#like without him we are just a fuckin Disaster

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

Hey I have a request! What do you think about Girlfriend reader hanging up on rafe multiple times during an argument and then he comes over w smut? 🫶🏽xx

THE ARGUMENT . . .

the argument starts over something dumb—rafe’s pissed because you left a couple of coffee mugs in the sink at his place, and you’re firing back that he’s got no right to lecture you about messes when his truck’s a disaster zone of empty beer cans and gym clothes.

it’s one of those fights that’s more about being annoyed than anything real, but you’re in a mood, all bratty and sharp-tongued, and rafe’s not backing down, his voice loud and clipped over the phone. “you’re actin’ like a damn kid,” he snaps, that outer banks drawl thick with frustration. “just clean up your shit, it ain’t that hard.”

“oh, please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes as you pace your apartment, phone pressed to your ear. “you’re not my dad, rafe. maybe if you weren’t such a slob yourself, i’d listen.”

you’re being extra, you know it, but you’re not in the mood to play nice, so you hang up on him, thumb jabbing the red button with a little too much satisfaction.

your phone buzzes almost immediately, his name lighting up the screen, and you let it ring a few times before picking up, just to make him wait. “what?” you say, voice all attitude, and he’s already heated, you can hear it in the way he’s breathing hard.

“don’t fuckin’ hang up on me,” he says, low and tight, like he’s trying to keep it together. “we’re talkin’ this out.”

“are we?” you shoot back, smirking even though he can’t see it. “’cause it sounds like you’re just yelling. i’m not in the mood, rafe.” and you hang up again, tossing your phone on the couch, feeling that petty thrill run through you. it’s childish, sure, but he’s been on your nerves all day, and you’re not about to let him win this one.

he calls back, of course, and this time you let it go to voicemail, watching the screen flash until it stops. a text comes through a second later:

you’re bein’ a real brat, you know that?

you ignore it, flipping on the tv, trying to distract yourself, but there’s a tiny part of you that’s waiting, knowing he’s not gonna let this slide.

later that night, you’re curled up with a glass of wine when there’s a knock at your door, hard and insistent. you don’t even need to check to know it’s him, and when you open it, rafe’s standing there, looking like a kicked puppy. his hair’s a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his eyes are softer than you’ve seen in a while, all red-rimmed and desperate.

“baby,” he starts, voice low, almost broken, and it’s so unlike him it throws you off. “i’m sorry, aight? i fucked up. i shouldn’t’a yelled about the damn mugs, it’s stupid.”

he steps closer, hands twitching like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure he’s allowed. “been sittin’ at home, and it’s… it’s fuckin’ empty without you. i hate this shit. i need you, okay? i’m losin’ it.”

you cross your arms, still holding onto that bratty edge, chin tilted up. “you didn’t seem sorry when you were yelling at me,” you say, voice sharp, but you’re already softening, the way he’s looking at you—like you’re his whole world—chipping away at your resolve.

“i know,” he says, stepping into your space, his hands finally landing on your hips, tentative at first, then tighter when you don’t pull away. “i was bein’ a dick. i just… i miss you when you’re not there, and i got all fucked up thinkin’ about you bein’ mad at me.”

he’s practically begging now, his voice rough, needy, and it’s so pathetic, so unlike the usual cocky rafe, that you almost feel bad for him. almost.

“you should be sorry,” you say, but your voice is softer now, and he catches it, his eyes lighting up with a glimmer of hope. “i don’t like fighting over stupid shit.”

“me neither,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. “lemme make it up to you, baby. please.” his hands slide up your sides, and he’s so close you can feel how much he means it, how desperate he is to fix this. “i’ll do whatever you want, just… don’t shut me out.”

you let him kiss you then, soft at first, like he’s afraid you’ll push him away, but when you kiss him back, it’s like a dam breaks. his hands are everywhere, pulling you against him, and he’s murmuring apologies between kisses, his voice thick with that drawl.

all “i’m sorry, baby” and “love you so fuckin’ much.” you’re still a little mad, but it’s hard to stay bratty when he’s like this, all needy and pathetic, like he’d fall apart without you.

he backs you toward the couch, and you let him, your hands in his hair as he kneels between your legs, tugging your shorts down with a kind of reverence that makes your heart skip. “gonna make you feel so good,” he says, voice low, almost a growl, but it’s not cocky now—it’s desperate, like he’s proving something. “my girl deserves everythin’.”

you’re still a little huffy, arms crossed as you look down at him, but the way he’s kissing up your thighs, soft and slow, makes it hard to keep up the act. “you better,” you say, voice sharp, but he just nods, like he’s agreeing with everything you’re saying.

“i will,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin, and when his mouth finally finds you, it’s slow, deliberate, like he’s worshipping you.

his tongue moves in lazy circles, teasing, drawing out every sound you try to hold back, and you can feel him watching you, gauging every reaction. “fuck, you taste so good,” he says, voice muffled, and it’s not his usual dirty talk—it’s raw, like he’s pouring himself into every word.

you’re trying to stay composed, but he’s too good, too focused, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place as he works you, slow and deep, until you’re squirming, your brattiness melting into something softer, needier. “rafe,” you whimper, and he groans, like hearing his name is enough to push him over the edge.

“that’s it, baby,” he says, lips brushing against you as he speaks, his tongue never stopping. “let me take care of you. my perfect fuckin’ girl.” he’s relentless but gentle, building you up until you’re trembling, your hands fisting his hair, your breaths coming fast and shaky.

when you finally come, it’s with a soft cry, your body shaking as he keeps going, drawing it out until you’re oversensitive, pushing at his head. he pulls back, kissing your thighs, your stomach, murmuring, “so good f’me, always so good,” and when he crawls up to kiss you, his lips are wet, his eyes soft and desperate still, like he’s not done proving himself.

“forgive me?” he asks, voice low, his forehead pressed to yours, and you can feel how much he means it, how lonely he must’ve been sitting in that big house without you.

you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “maybe,” you tease, but your voice is soft, and he smiles, kissing you again, like he’s never letting you go.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

𓂅 taglist ― @littlelamy @dollyfiles @drewstarkeyswife0 @icaqttt @urcoolgf @camercns @pointocean @dsfault @rafestoothbrush @huhidontknowstuff @drewssgirl

[rainrot4me]

new to your blog and saw your lgbt headcannons for the creeps (eating up all your posts lol)

can we get more of bi jeff

sincerely gay anon

My beautiful bisexual disaster, oh how you sing to me.

๑ Warning: Vaginal, anal, threesome, oral

── .✦

Bi Jeff doesn’t label himself, really, but he absolutely notices all genders and does not even question why. If you asked him, he’d say, “I’ll fuck who I wanna fuck,” and leave it at that. There’s a deep impulsivity in him, and he follows attraction wherever it goes.

If he looks at someone and gets hard, that’s answer enough for him.

He’s the type to have had his first same-gender hookup way before he even realized it was “a thing.” Middle school sleepovers, random drunken makeouts in high school—to him it was just fun, he didn’t question it, but there’s a lingering shame from his home life, from the way other kids called him “fag” growing up. That stuck in his ribs a bit.

When he does admit to liking men and women (and nonbinary folks too), it comes out aggressive, defensive, almost picking a fight about it:

“Yeah, I like dick. You got a fuckin’ problem with that?”

He still struggles to own it without bracing for a reaction, because he’s so used to being judged for everything else that he forgets sexual orientation is the least of his problems.

He flirts in the absolute most unhinged, horny way possible—complimenting your ass while also trying to steal your lighter, threatening to kill you if you break his heart but also saying “you’re cute” with his knife to your throat.

His attraction is a bit chaotic and all-consuming: if you’re beautiful to him, you’re beautiful, period. Gender presentation does not factor. He genuinely does not give a shit. He’ll go feral for a pretty goth guy with eyeliner as quickly as he’d drool over a hot femme.

If you’re bi too, he’d probably find that sexy, in a twisted sense of solidarity—but also get jealous as hell. Like, “You better only be lookin’ at me.”

When it comes to sex, he’s very… curious. Jeff is 100% the guy who would want to try everything. Pegging? Sure. Letting a dude choke him out? Fuck it, why not. He’ll experiment with a grin and then brag about it later.

He still carries a bit of internalized “guy culture” that makes him overcompensate. Like, he’ll get so macho after hooking up with a man, calling himself a “pussy slayer” and flexing for no reason, trying to bury that small voice of what if I’m not man enough? under the violence and bravado.

But when he trusts someone? When he feels safe? He’s incredibly affectionate, starved for connection, and open about how much he loves all kinds of bodies and how hot he thinks people are. A bi king with a killer streak, basically.

With a masc partner:

Jeff loves the roughness of another guy. It gets him going, seeing muscle, stubble, the scent of cologne mixing with blood and sweat.

He’ll mouth off the entire time—biting, growling, egging you on to fuck him harder or letting you pin him down. He’s not going down without a hard-won fight, but the reward is very sweet.

Likes mutual marks, bruises, scrapes. Will brag about them afterward, showing off the scratches on his back like trophies.

If you pull his hair or choke him out, Jeff will see stars. He craves that power play, going from threatening to begging in seconds, and will absolutely get off on being handled roughly.

One minute he’s the predator, next he’s biting his lip and whining under you— “Fuck, harder—don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop.”

With a fem partner:

He’s a bit more possessive with femmes, leaning into that aggressive, protective energy. Grabs your hips so hard you bruise, makes you repeat you’re his while he pounds into you.

Has a filthy mouth. Absolutely loves hearing a whiny moan and gets cocky about it— “Yeah? You like that? Bet nobody else can fuck you this good.”

Worships tits, regardless if they’re big, small, on T, off T, doesn’t matter—he’s a tits guy, will bite, suck, bury his face in them. All for sucking your nipples raw while he fucks you silly.

Would get off on seeing you ride him in a mirror, praising how pretty you look while he slaps your ass.

Bonus, bi Jeff mmf threesome:

Jeff is the type to see a couple making out in some divey club bathroom or a dark party corner and wedge himself right in. He’s that guy—smirking, all attitude, dirty laughter, sizing them up before he even says a word. The girl’s pretty, the guy’s rough and masculine—Jeff wants both.

He’d kiss one, then the other, biting his lip and egging them on. “Fuck, look at you two. Wanna get out of here?”

Jeff is equal opportunity filthy. He’ll get on his knees to suck the guy off, messy and aggressive, while palming the girl’s ass or fingering her until she’s shaking. He has zero shame about getting everyone off at once, seeing who he can make cum the fastest.

Loves to watch—will pull back and just stare while the other two fuck, stroking himself, then dive in again when he can’t stand waiting.

He’s got that unhinged energy, switching partners constantly—making out with one while railing the other, then swapping. It’s messy, it’s nasty, and the other two are lucky if they can even barely keep up.

Loves spit, loves bite marks, loves rough hair pulling. You’d hear him cursing under his breath the whole time, “Shit, you feel good. Don’t fucking stop.”

Mutual marks are a must. Scratches down his back, maybe the girl leaves hickeys on his neck while the guy fists his hair and pushes him deeper. Jeff lives for that overstimulation.

Position-wise, Jeff would absolutely volunteer to be in the middle, cock sunk deep into the girl’s cunt while the guy slams his hips behind him.

Threesome daisy chains? Yup. He’s happy to suck one off while someone pounds him, growling deep and throaty with a mouthful of cum and drool.

He’d also get off on double oral—he’d hold the girl’s hair while she goes down on the guy, then get in there with her, their tongues meeting while the guy moans. Jeff is nasty.

The more people fawning over how good he fucks, the happier he is.

꩜ .ᐟ

[hazbinhotei]

the devil's note.

warnings/tags: jazz singer!reader, alastor only has like one line of dialogue in this lol

word count: 2793

summary: As a talented and enchanting jazz singer, your performance turns personal when your bold teasing leaves the Radio Demon speechless.

alastor x f!reader. thank you to the anon who requested this story! guess who's back!~ so... i haven't uploaded in 10 days. i think you are all due for an apology, but i hope swear i'm not giving up on this account so quickly, so hopefully more uploads come along soon! i have many part two concepts in my head (including this story)—but the question is if i can write it all out before life gets to me. enjoy!

The day had started with one of Angel Dust’s usual antics—a grand proclamation over breakfast, fork twirling in hand, eyes glinting with flamboyant mischief.

"Alright, listen up, bitches! I got somethin’ special planned for tonight, and no, Vaggie, it ain't one of my 'educational' excursions, so don’t get your panties in a twist!" He waved a pink-gloved hand as if to ward off her immediate disapproval, grinning as he leaned back in his chair. "I’m talkin’ class, I'm talkin’ style, I'm talkin’ one of the best damn voices to ever grace the depths of Hell."

Vaggie narrowed her right eye, sitting up as she glanced at Charlie beside her. "This isn’t another one of your weird ‘bonding activities,’ is it? Like—like that time you tried to get us to go to a ‘How-to-Moan’ class?"

Angel scoffed. "Okay, that was one time, and I still think it woulda been fun!” He huffed, shaking his head to dismiss his previous rejected suggestion. “But no, babe, this is different! I got this girlfriend performing tonight, the kinda doll that could sing the socks off of any demon. Total smoke show, like an absolute bombshell—think old Hollywood but with a fuckin' bite!"

Vaggie sighed, leaning forward on the table, her forehead dropping into her hand. "This is gonna be a disaster, isn't it?"

Charlie bit down on her lower lip, hesitating before curiosity won out. She rubbed a hand over Vaggie's back, consoling her girlfriend as she asked, "What kind of venue?"

"A jazz club!" Angel declared, tossing his upper arms up with a twirl. "Live music, good booze, and a vibe that ain't total chaos—betcha didn’t expect that from me, huh?"

That immediately caught Alastor’s (previously devoid) attention, ears flickering up as his half-lidded eyes opened up. His usual grin stretched just a fraction wider with newfound interest. "A jazz club, you say?" His voice was light, laced with curiosity, a lilting note of intrigue threading through each syllable. "Now that sounds like a lovely way to spend an evening."

Charlie’s attention snapped to Alastor, ecstatic to see him actually interested in a group bonding activity for once. She immediately whipped her head back to Vaggie, who merely groaned in response to her partner’s current puppy-dog expression. Vaggie only sighed once more, pursing her lips. “Fine, we can go.”

And just like that, the deal was sealed.

The moment the doors swung open to The Devil’s Note, a sultry jazz bar nestled in the heart of Pentagram City, the group was automatically enveloped in a haze of warm, dim light and the slow, hypnotic strum of a double bass. The scent of whiskey and aged cigars wove through the air, mingling with the perfume of debauchery and whispered secrets.

Velvet drapes cascaded from the ceiling like blood-red waterfalls, framing mahogany walls adorned with vintage jazz posters and golden sconces that flickered with an otherworldly glow. A grand chandelier loomed above, its many crystal facets casting fractured light across the glossy black floors.

Husk barely had a moment to process the room before a passing server—impeccably dressed in a maroon vest and black bow tie—wordlessly handed him a fresh glass of whiskey. He took it without hesitation, grunting in approval before muttering, "Yeah. This place ain't half bad."

Vaggie, arms crossed and brow furrowed, took a slow, assessing look around before finally conceding, "This is… surprisingly nice."

Angel Dust twirled, four arms outstretched as he breathed it all in. "I know, right? Y’all thought I was gonna drag ya to some sleazy strip joint, huh? Give me some credit!" He leaned against Husk, smirking as Husk coughed mid-sip from the sudden movement. "Even whiskers over here is enjoying himself."

Charlie, expression starry with admiration, nodded vigorously. "I wasn’t expecting something this elegant! It’s like stepping into another era."

And yet, amidst all the chatter and appreciation, Alastor stood eerily still. His smile remained, but his gaze told a different story—nostalgia. He surveyed the space with an unsettling kind of familiarity, his fingers ghosting over the back of a chair as though touching a memory brought to life. The phonograph in the corner crackled softly beneath the low hum of conversation. The brass instruments glinted under dim golden light, polished and pristine. Authentic.

He inhaled steadily, deep and deliberate. "Now, this," he murmured, voice almost reverent, "is a proper establishment."

And with that, the group was ushered to a candle-lit table near the stage, where they settled into a plush, curved leather booth, sipping on devilishly strong drinks while Angel Dust gleefully droned on about how they were in for a real treat. Niffty bounced excitedly beside him, her tiny hands gripping the table as she took in every detail, while Husk, already halfway through his second drink, merely grunted in pacified patience. Vaggie remained reserved but intrigued next to an energetic Charlie who was practically vibrating with elation at the sight of the entire group together in an area that wasn’t the hotel. 

Even Alastor quieted his usual accompanying static, a sign of respect for the Hellborn jazz band on stage. His glowing eyes flickered about the place, his smile satisfied as he tapped along to the beat with a clawed thumb. He had been prepared for tacky, garish decor, for a club that spat on the essence of true jazz. But this—this felt like a whisper from the past, an echo of something he once knew. The deep thrum in his chest from the bass, the filtered wah-wah notes of the trumpet, the sharp keys from the piano—it was real.

His head began bobbing in time with the beat, and before long, he was humming—low, rich, an effortless accompaniment to the imps filling the room with old-world soul. His foot, ever so slightly, tapped along with the rhythm in addition to his thumb. It was a rare sight—Alastor, not just half-assed listening, but feeling the music, letting it settle into him like it was a life source.

Charlie, observing him from behind, leaned toward Vaggie with a hushed whisper. "He looks… natural like this. Like he belongs here."

Angel grinned as he overheard the princess’ words, twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers. "Ain’t seen nothin’ yet, toots." His mismatched eyes twinkled, delight bubbling just beneath his tone. "Just wait ‘til the real show starts."

As if on cue, the lights began to dim. A few guests around the club perked up, their murmurs laced with anticipation. The energy in the room shifted as a golden spotlight shined on the center of the stage, buzzing quietly with unspoken thrill.

A hush fell over the crowd as the jazz band eased into a rich, sultry melody, the notes weaving through the air like smoke curling from the end of a cigarette. The suspense in the room was palpable, some guests shifting forward in their seats, their low whispers betraying excitement. Then, as if answering their call, a graceful silhouette stepped into the soft light, emerging from the shadows.

You.

Draped in liquid satin, the deep emerald fabric of your gown clung to your curves like it had been painted on, the thigh-high slit revealing glimpses of silk stockings as you moved. Diamond earrings kissed your neck, sparkling under the spotlight, while a matching necklace sat snug at your throat, a glittering noose of old money elegance. Every inch of you screamed dangerously expensive, an untouchable femme fatale gracing Hell with her presence.

The moment your ruby lips curled into a relaxed, sly smile, the room seemed to exhale all at once—entranced, bewitched. Every step you took was intentional, high heels clicking softly against the stage as you moved with the languid finesse of a panther on the prowl. The mic stand welcomed the brush of your fingers, cool metal against your skin, and for a brief moment, you let the silence stretch—letting them wait, letting them want as you surveyed the crowd with bated breath.

Then—

You sang.

A voice like silk and sin, rich with the kind of confidence that came from knowing the effect you had. The song had started off with a bang, your voice powerful as you rang out the first electrifying note—long, steady, and clear proof of your skill. Your opening riff dripped with seduction, wrapping around the room like a velvet ribbon. Conversations hushed. All eyes were on you. 

Even Alastor’s.

He sat unnaturally still, red eyes burning like embers, fingers tightening around the glass of whiskey in his hand. His ever-present smile had not faltered, and yet, there was something in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his ears twitched as if trying to resist the very essence of your voice. His chest felt tight with a new emotion he could not quite place, his mind suddenly empty of all other thoughts as he watched you sway on stage.

The musicians followed in suit once you sang the opening, the floor vibrating as the swell of jazz rolled through the room like thunder dipped in honey. Every instrument answered your voice like a well-trained lover—sharp when you snapped, soft when you slinked. You didn’t just sing; you prowled, you played, you performed. Your hips moved with the rhythm, and every gesture was a magnetic force of perfected deliberation. Notes curved out of you like smoke rings, leaving the room hanging on every breath.

As the final note lingered in the air, a wave of applause rippled through the audience. To Angel's excitement, his group all seemed to be giving signs of approval. Charlie and Niffty were clapping fervently, and even the usual impassive faces of Vaggie and Husk were now adorned with impressed expressions. And Alastor… He clapped too—but it was precise, calculated. Each movement measured, restrained, as his eyes smoldered with sudden intensity.

Angel leaned back, throwing an arm over the back of the booth, grinning smugly at the group. “Ain’t she great?” he drawled, clearly reveling in their reactions.

As the applause settled, you bowed elegantly, sending a charming smile to the crowd. “Enjoy your night at The Devil’s Note, darlings. There’s more where that came from—so stay tuned.”

The small crowd applauded a second time, your band picking up the beat once more as the lights cleared just slightly for an intermission. In the downtime, you spotted Angel in the crowd, a flicker of recognition lighting up your expression as you stepped down from the stage. You snaked towards their booth with effortless grace, the attention of a few Sinners lingering on you as you passed their tables to get to your good friend.

“Angel!” you called out, sliding up beside him as he beamed at you. “You always know how to gather an…”—You glanced at the motley crew, blinking in surprise as you took in his choice of accompanies tonight—”interesting crowd.”

He wrapped his upper arms around you, hugging you tightly as he gestured to the group with a free hand. “Doll, meet my weird-ass roommates. We got Charlie, she’s the princess—yeah, that princess. Vaggie, her overprotective watchdog. Husk—he’s grumpy but I promise he’s warming up to me.”

Husk snorted. “Not in a million years.”

Angel waved him off, continuing down the line. “That’s Niffty, she’s a firecracker, and last but definitely the freakiest—Alastor, ya know, the Radio Demon.”

After greeting each member individually, your gaze finally landed on the Sinner across from you, who sat ever so still in the curved booth, his grin wide as you both studied each other. You hummed softly when you met his red eyes, glowing with something akin to curiosity. You had heard of the Radio Demon in passing conversations throughout your time in Hell, but you had never expected him to be such a… dapper fellow.

He was dressed in a crimson pinstripe suit, essentially blending in seamlessly with the aesthetic of the club. The sharp cut of his jacket accentuated his tall frame, and the dark shadows surrounding him only seemed to grow in the candlelight, casting an eerie silhouette behind him. You almost had to hold back a laugh at the odd addition of two tiny prongs of antlers jutting between his large red ears—an unexpectedly cute detail that clashed comically with the otherwise pristine 1930s vibe he was going for. Something in his expression, the way his grip tensed around the glass at the way you watched him, made your brow lift in amusement. He studied you in return not with disdain, nor indifference, but with something far more interesting—contemplation. It made the hair on the back of your neck stick up; how thrillingly dangerous.

You leaned in slowly, purposeful, your elbow hitting the table as you rested your chin against your palm. You let the tension stretch, your head tilting as your charming smile morphed into a wide smirk. His watching eyes only seemed to track your every move, his body tensing slightly as if he were waiting for an attack. Then, with a teasing, sensual tone, you tilted your head and purred—

“You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous?”

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes, stunned into silence by your words. His ears shot straight up, blinking several times at you as if he couldn’t believe what you just said. The rest of the group seemed equally shocked by your bold move—both Charlie’s and Vaggie’s jaws dropped at your provocative comment as Husk merely took a long, slow sip of his drink to hide his amused smirk at Alastor's dumbfounded expression.

A second of quiet tension passed before Angel burst into laughter, cackling loudly. “Toots, you’ve seriously got a death wish! Fuckin’ flirting with the Radio Demon—I swear I’ve never met a gal as crazy as you!”

You turned back to the spider beside you, grinning deviously as his arm around your shoulder shook with every guffaw. “Please, I’m only teasing.” You couldn’t help but chuckle alongside Angel, shaking your head as you turned back to look at the rest of the table. “But seriously, I’m glad to have you folks here. Any friend of Angel’s is a friend of mine, so enjoy your time here.”

You backed out of the booth smoothly, gesturing for a passing waiter to bring a fresh round of colorful refreshments to the table. Angel lit up like he’d just witnessed the second coming, beaming at you with pure reverence for the free alcohol. You rolled your eyes with a smirk, giving his shoulder a playful push that made him giggle like a schoolgirl.

As the rest of the group oohed and aahed over the new drinks being set before them, you turned to take your leave—gown swaying around you—but not without one final glance over your shoulder. 

While the others were distracted by the sudden liquor, Alastor’s staring remained fixed on you, unmoving and unblinking. You met his gaze, letting your lashes lower just so. Then, with all the poise of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, you winked slowly… and blew him a kiss.

His smile snarled, revealing black gums—just for a moment—before your eyes caught the sharp bob of his Adam’s apple in an involuntary gulp. You glanced down at his free hand on the table, his red claws leaving a few scuff marks on the polished mahogany wood. You only huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you turned forward once more.

“For the Radio Demon, you don’t seem to be quite the talker!”

You were met with a sudden burst of radio static, the lamps above you flickering in tandem. You heard a few gasps from the group before Angel’s recognizable laughter rang out once more, wheezing even harder than before. Smirking, you continued on without looking back, sending a fluttering wave to the group behind you.

You ascended the stage once more, your heels clicking against the familiar wooden stage. The imp at the piano glanced back at the commotion, eyes darting between you and the table with a questioning brow, but you snapped your fingers lightly, calling him back to focus. He simply nodded and turned back to the keys.

As you reached for the mic again, you glanced once more toward the table—and found Alastor watching you. His menacing smile remained, tight and strained like a mask held too long. When you both made eye contact, his right eye twitched. You bit your lip, a coy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, whether that be from your clear effect on the Sinner or the dangerous thrill starting to blossom in your stomach.

Only one thought rang through your mind as you stepped into the spotlight, the music swelling behind you, the room holding its breath once more to hear your voice:

This will be fun.

tag list: @railgunuzi @frompiscium @rose-in-blue @catticora @milkissesx [want to join/be removed from the tag list? check my pinned post!]

[livingdxadwriter]

Mind Games (2)

Direct cntinuation to Mind games (til we lose control) (takes place before lost time)

Ben/Soldier Boy X Supe!Fem!reader

Summary: Herogasm proves to be a disaster for everyone involved, but at least you and Ben still have each other at the end of the night. Takes places during the Herogasm episode but like I did my own shit

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it mfs), p in v, shower sex (pls don't try to recreate this, SB has super strength, your man does not, you might break sum), oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, dom!Soldier Boy, praising kink, Ben calls her mean things a lot (but she likes it), choking, hair pulling, spitting, Soldier Boy cause mf is a warning on his own, typical canonical violence for this show, no use of y/n, Violet isn't her real name, just a nickname.

WC: 6.9k I'm so sorry

A/N: WHAT DID I TELL YALL MFSSS. Took me 2 years to revisit it but yk what it's fine cause every year is Soldier Boy's year. So yeah here we are. I will warn yall im not too good at writing action/fight scenes, like it made sense in my head but idk if that image translated well into the scene. I only know how to write smut im sorry. But to my Ben/Jensen girlie's, this is for you. I'll see yall in hell <3

Gif is not mine I found it on Pinterest

Universe masterlist | I no longer have a tag list so if you'd like to keep up with updates follow @midnightreadinglibrary

Fucking Herogasm. Christ, you didn't remember the last time you were here. Funny, the last time you went to a Herogasm party it was coincidentally with Ben. And it was in fact the last one you ever went to. It never felt right to go back without him. 

"Fuckin' Herogasm," Butcher laughed and shook his head, glancing back at you with intrigue, "You ever been Violet?" 

Your lips curled up a bit and you licked your lips slowly, glancing at Ben for a second before you found two pairs of curious eyes on you. 

"Yeah, every year for like ten years." You responded, and you were met with a look of disbelief from Hughie, and even Butcher had a slight glint of surprise in his eyes. Perhaps they didn't take you as the orgy, drugs and depravity type of supe, not that you blame them, that never truly was your idea of fun. But you weren’t entirely innocent either. "I'm serious. You can ask Ben if you don't believe me." 

Both men gave Ben a long glance and he laughed, shrugging at you. 

"She ain’t lying, I took her to her first one, in 74' was it? Should've seen her, such a pretty doe-eyed lil’ thing, with a face like hers she fooled everyone." 

"Oh, yeah, you showed innocent little me all the ropes. It was very educational." You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the small grin on your face, and Ben had one of his own. 

For a moment you forgot neither of the other two men quite understood whatever was going between you and Ben, so you missed the uncomfortable look on their faces. 

"Oh, I showed you a hell of a lot more than just the ropes, sweetheart." 

"And I'll show you both the barrel of a gun if I have to endure another second of your trip down erotic memory lane. Can we focus here?" Butcher groaned, looking both annoyed and disturbed by your relationship, like a parent who was tired of keeping his two horny teenagers in line. 

You exchanged a look with Ben, eyes big and lips pursed as you tried not to laugh and you gave him a look of having just been scolded. He simply rolled his eyes and half paid attention to Hughie and Butcher as they went back and forth about who was going in first. 

You, as always, just stood there and observed, absentmindedly twirling your knife between your fingers as you listened to them agree that Hughie should go in first so you could be in and out as quickly as possible. In between your own priorities, Ben being the main one, you had almost forgotten why you were here in the first place. Despite the fact that you were picking off Payback's members one by one, you quickly realized this wasn't for you, or Ben and his plot for revenge. No, it was about Butcher getting his. And the two of you were simply there to make it happen. 

You had begun to wonder if this was all there was to it, a means to an end, and in reality neither you or Ben had much of a chance to make it out this revenge mission alive. But if there was something you knew for sure, it was that you would die before you let anything happen to Ben again. Deep down, you hoped he would do the same for you. 

"I'm gonna go check the area before we go in, make sure there aren't any surprises." Butcher announced after a minute or two of waiting, Hughie not being back yet. He started walking, but not before turning to glance at you both with narrowed eyes, "And you two behave, last time I left you cunts alone you broke a bathroom." 

You did a mocking salute to him and snorted when he rolled his eyes at you, grumbling something you didn't quite hear as he began to walk away. He was out of your sight pretty quickly and you could already feel Ben's intense gaze burn on your face. You ignored it at first, but when he stood in front of you, eyes never leaving you, you had no choice but to look at him. You stopped your fidgeting and you looked up at him expectantly as you leaned back against a tree.

"I don't need to read your mind to know you want to tell me something, what's up?" 

"What you said back at the motel, did you mean it?" He questioned, leaning close to your face as he placed a hand beside your head. You stared at him for a second, trying to dig in your mind for whatever it was that he meant. You found his green eyes and you realized. 

Ah. The three fucking words. 

"Seriously Ben?" You groaned, your head falling to the side with annoyance, but more of all you wanted to avoid his gaze, avoid the shame of having confessed your deepest feelings, knowing feelings wasn't something either of you ever talked about let alone ever admitted to. Because feelings meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant weakness. And weakness wasn't something either of you would ever admit to.

He grabbed your chin, grip tight as he forced you to look at him, "Did you? ‘Cause I meant what I said, all of it." 

Your face softened and your lips slightly curved into a tiny smile. You never wanted to search his mind without his permission, it was like a line you never liked to cross, but you didn't need to this time. Just by looking into his eyes you always knew. You could tell a lot by looking into someone’s eyes. You searched his eyes for any kind of deceit or even manipulation, but you didn't find any. You knew what he meant, and coming from him, it meant everything. 

"Yeah," You sighed softly, "I meant what I said." 

"Good." His pink lips curved into a satisfied smirk as he squeezed your face and leaned down, capturing your lips into his own. It was slower, no rushed and desperate touches like before, but he still kissed you hard. There was nothing gentle about it, but was there ever anything gentle about him? 

His tongue slipped into your mouth as he dropped his hand, resting it on the column of your neck. He pressed his armored chest against yours, pretty much pinning you against the tree. His mouth was so skilled, like he knew exactly how to take your breath away in seconds, he knew you that well. You would never allow a man to have this much control over you. But it was always different with him. Your hands found his long strands as you explored his mouth, and you pulled hard. You felt him groan against your mouth and he squeezed your neck in response. You gasped, the sound quickly fading into a soft moan. He pulled back and watched with amusement the look of pure ecstasy on your face as he squeezed your throat. 

"You fucking slut, you still get off to me hurting you, don't you?" He bit his lip as he released your throat, thumb brushing over the skin he knew would bruise, just like everybody else's, even if it was for a little bit. 

You inhaled deeply, the short lack of airflow making you dizzy, but in the most delicious way possible. You opened your eyes, finding his green ones and god you wished nothing but to just ditch the mission and go somewhere where he could take you, over and over again. 

"Are we here to get revenge or are we here to get your dick wet? ‘Cause I'm getting some real mixed signals here." You mumbled, breath heavy and he chuckled. He leaned down, pressing his lips to your jaw before he moved them to your ear. 

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard I'm gonna break a hell of a lot more than just a mirror." He coaxed. The way he spoke in your ear made you rub your thighs together and the pool forming in your panties was impossible to ignore. It was embarrassing how quickly he could pull you apart and do with you what he pleased. "When we get back. Now pull yourself together, we're on a mission." 

And just like that he was standing a few feet away from you. He was looking behind his shoulder, almost as if he could hear someone. And of course, just in time for you to somewhat regain your composure, Butcher came back. Though it wasn't before you locked eyes with Ben one more time as you tried to control your breathing, and the cocky bastard winked at you, lips curled into a shit eating grin before Butcher actually approached you both. 

This motherfucker. 

"All clear. The twins are in there. You shouldn't have a problem going in," He said to Ben, but then looked at you, "You, though, you might get some attention. Pretty girl, dressed in black leather and strapped with knives, that's some BDSM shit if I've seen one." 

"Okay and?" You frowned, now standing by both men.

"Just stay close to him, people might recognize you and approach you. Do what you can to keep a low profile. You might have to get your hands a bit dirty." He looked between you and Ben. You stared at him with a small frown at first, but when he raised his eyebrows at you, you quickly realized what he meant. 

"Wouldn't be the first time." Ben commented with a chuckle when he caught on. You looked at him, slightly unimpressed by his lack of discretion but you simply rolled your eyes. 

Butcher sighed heavily, clearly done with your antics by then and he simply motioned you off with an unimpressed expression, "Off you go, ya dirty cunts." 

"Looks like you might get your dick wet after all." You commented to Ben as you both headed off to the house. 

He chuckled, shooting you a glance as you stood in front of the door. You were both eager to get this over with, you more than him. It was one thing for him to be able to face the assholes that betrayed him, and you were happy to do it with him. But the idea of being around dozens of supes, in an environment where there were no rules, no respect and no boundaries, made you uneasy. You didn't know if you could handle that many voices all at once. It had been a long time since you had been around other Supes, let alone that many, and you had made that decision for a reason. 

Almost as if he could feel the anxiety radiate from you, you felt a large hand fill your own. Confused, you looked down and saw he had intertwined his fingers with your own. "There's nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart, it wouldn't be the first time we do this." 

"I haven't been around other supes since…" You inhaled deeply, your throat slightly closing up at the memory. The last time you stepped foot at Vought Tower, when you realized you couldn't do it anymore. Ben looked at you, eyebrows slightly knitted into a frown, "It's been a long time is all." 

"Just stay by my side, nobody will lay a hand on you. I'll always protect you, remember?" He gave your hand a slight squeeze and the calm yet assertive ring in his voice made you feel almost at ease. Almost. 

You stayed silent, needing all your energy and focus to keep the dozens of voices beginning to infiltrate your mind one by one. The sound of Ben speaking as a very naked man opened the door sounded far, distant, you didn't catch much of what they said. You only knew to move when you felt Ben tug you along. Now the sound of your racing heart was almost as loud as the voices. So fucking many people here. So many Supes. So many voices. All at once. It was deafening. It disgusted you, to have to hear every passing thought these depraved beings had. You didn’t realize you started digging your blunt nails into Ben’s gloves.

It didn’t hurt, but your enhanced strength definitely made him feel the tightening grip of your shaking hands. He stopped and looked at you with a twisted frown.

“The fuck is wrong with you now? You look like you saw your father.” 

You eyes snapped up to find him looking back at you with both confusion, and his version of concern. You opened your mouth but you could only stammer but no words actually came out. You couldn’t think. It was so loud. Your lip quivered ever so slightly as you felt your chest start to grow heavy. Ben saw the look on your face, the way your eyes were frantically looking around the room, your jaw wound up so tight he thought you’d break it. The last time he saw you like this was when you first joined Payback and didn’t have full control of your abilities. 

“Stop that, right now.” He gripped your shoulders hard, really fucking hard, enough to make you shift your focus on him for a moment. You looked at him with wide eyes. “Hey, I need you to focus. Get your head under control. I need you to have my back here, okay?”

“I… I don’t.. I can’t get them to stop. They won’t stop.” You said, so close to being on the verge of tears. “There’s so many, I can’t get them to shut the fuck up. I--” 

“Hey,” He shook you ever so slightly, leaning in close to your face. “The fuck did I just say? Get. yourself. Together. You used to tune ‘em out, remember? So tune them out.” 

You breathed in, your chest rising as you tried to drown out the noise, focus on his face, on his voice. But you couldn’t. You hadn’t been around this many people in nearly a decade.

“I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.” You shook your head frantically and tried to slip out of his grip but he didn’t let you. 

“I need you here. Just—hey,” he grabbed your jaw, looking out of the corner of his eyes to make sure you weren’t bringing in too much attention before he met your teary eyes. “Just look at me. I’m right here. Remember you used to tune everyone else out and only focus on my voice, hm? Focus on my thoughts, okay? It’s just you and me, fuck everyone else.” 

You stared at him, the green in his eyes seeming more and more green the longer you looked. You even saw a ring yellow in there. His voice. His thoughts, they had always calmed you, centered you. The voices grew more and more distant the longer you looked at him. You listened to his voice as his thoughts became your own. Until only the sound of his voice was in your head. Your breath was shaky as you closed your eyes, a laugh of relief leaving your lips.

He held your face for a little longer, his deep frown less harsh as he watched your face slowly visibly relax and the tension left your body.

“Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” You exhaled deeply and nodded at him, feeling like you were slowly regaining control of yourself. “Let’s go find the terror twins.” 

You walked around this house for what felt like hours. But it didn’t help that you were being stopped every five minutes by every naked Supe you walked by. Ben was anything but amused.

“I swear to fucking Christ if one more of these slimy jizz-covered fuck faces asks you to use your knives on them I will actually shove my shield up their ass.” Ben grumbled with a look of disgust on his face.

“They’d probably like that.” You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing at the death glare he shot you.

“Eat shit.” You actually snorted this time, and you were full on giggling when he started mumbling curses at you as he walked off. 

You ultimately decided splitting up was probably the way to go, the house was way too big and had too many rooms, you’d find the twins quicker if you each went your own way. Ben was reluctant at first, a bit apprehensive to leave you on your own after you almost broke down earlier. But you reassured him you were fine and perfectly capable of going on your own. You ultimately realized you made the right choice. You didn’t know exactly when or how but out of nowhere you heard a loud blast in the next room and you were launched right through a wall from the blast. Pain immediately started shooting through your body at the impact. You were a Supe, sure, but you weren’t Soldier Boy, you weren’t fucking invincible. You bled and you felt pain like any human. 

It took you a good minute to understand what the actual fuck had just happened. And when you did, you almost forgot about the throbbing pain going through your body. You pushed yourself up to your feet, stumbling and holding on to walls as you dragged yourself through the rubble and burned bodies. Your jaw slightly fell open at the sight of this much mayhem. You didn’t believe in God, but fuck were you praying to a higher power for Ben to be okay. 

You managed to stay on your feet despite the pain. It would go away eventually, in a day or so, but the first few hours were brutal. Still you pushed through, determined to find Ben. You stumbled into a hallway, the walls were falling apart and chunks of cement were all around the floor. But what caught your attention was the sight that fucking American flag and blonde head of hair you had grown to despise. Your heart stopped, you were frozen. You held your breath as you realized fucking Homelander was here. And he currently had Ben pinned to a wall.

This was such a bad fucking idea. You could die a very agonizing death. A bad idea indeed. 

Adrenaline kicked in, you sprinted and with a bit of momentum you landed on Homelander’s shoulders. You were surprised he didn’t hear you coming.You were thankful he was preoccupied with Ben. Your nails dug into the side of his temples and you used all of the energy and power you had coursing through your veins, and sent that straight to his brain.

You weren’t sure if it would even tickle. You tried using your shock powers on Ben once, a long time ago, just to test out how it worked on Supes with enhanced strength, he said it felt like being electrocuted. And right about now you were praying Homelander felt something, enough to stun him at least. You could kill an average Supe if you used enough power, but you weren’t so sure if you were strong enough.

You held on, but you were struggling, commanding your body to release this much energy was mentally exhausting but the sound of Homelander groaning in pain made you smile the slightest bit. The shocks of electricity weren’t going to kill him, but it sure did hurt, and it stunned him. Nobody’s brain was invisible afterall. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it motherfucker? Your body may be indestructible but your mind can only take so much before it breaks.” You spat. Sparks were coming from your fingers as your eyes flashed bright purple. “It’s fucked when its you being held down against your will, huh?”

He screamed, stumbling around as he attempted to grab at you, but this wasn’t the first time you tried to fry someone’s brain off while on their shoulders. You gasped when you saw his laser eyes go off as he screamed, leaving indents on the wall. This split second of distraction was enough to make your focus falter, and it gave Homelander the opportunity to find a grip on you. You cried in pain when he grabbed your ankle and tossed you off. 

You landed fucking hard, it knocked the air right out of your lungs. You coughed as you attempted to get up, but Homelander was grabbing you and pulling you up by your neck before you could blink. He held you up in the air as he levitated so you couldn’t find a way to escape. He held you at arm’s length so you couldn’t reach him, either. The way his empty, ice cold eyes stared you down with evil glee as you gasped for air was terrifying. 

“I always knew you were a fucking bitch. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance. Matter of fact, I’ll do that right now.” Your eyes widened when his eyes gleamed bright red. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Ben behind Homelander, with a grin as he grabbed Homelander’s cape and pulled down, and he pulled really fucking hard. Your body collided with the ground roughly, landing on your side with a pained cry. But you still saw Ben throw Homelander around by his cape, and had you not been mere seconds away from death, you would have laughed at the comedic irony. You were in and out of consciousness, an aura surrounding your vision. But in between your delirium you could see Butcher and Hughie had arrived, and the three of them were taking on Homelander. It wasn’t long before the three of them had Homelander pinned down. You could feel yourself fade, your muscles give out and your mind shut off. You hadn’t used that much power since you were in Payback. 

You heard indistinct voices and shouting before everything went black. 

“The fuck are you waitin’ for? Blast this cunt!” Butcher shouted and Ben grunted.

“I can’t! Just—Fuck.” His eyes found you in the corner, bloodied and passed out. You couldn’t run away and you wouldn’t survive the blast, he knew that. “You—kid, take her, and get out here. Now!”

“No fucking way!” Hughie shouted back, and Ben felt the urge to blast him instead. 

“Do what he says, take the fuckin’ girl and go!” Butcher shouted at Hughie, catching on to what Ben was trying to do. But before any of them could do anything, Homelander blasted his lasers, screaming as he overpowered the three of them while they were distracted. And just like that he was gone. 

The three men sat in silence, in defeat. They had a chance and they blew it. Ben knew it was mostly his fault, he shouldn’t have hesitated. But he refused to ever let you get hurt. In silent anger he glared at both of them and he stood and walked over to your passed out body. He clenched his jaw as he picked your limp body and carried you. He made eye contact with Butcher and Hughie and it took all of his power not to shoot both of them in the face. 

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

Your whole body ached, and your head was founding. It was unbearable. You winced in pain as you began to peel layers of clothes off your body. God it fucking hurt. You closed your eyes as you attempted to hold back tears, only snapping back into reality when you felt Ben trace his fingers over your back. He noted every bruise and every cut. He knew they would heal, sure but it still made him seethe with anger. 

“What the fuck were you thinkin’, taking on Homelander like that? Did all the fucking pills you take for your psychosis fry all of your neurons or what?” He was so angry, and he never was exactly kind with his words. You always knew that, but it still hurt when he talked to you that way, especially when you had only been trying to help him. 

Your back was turned to him, so he couldn't see the hurt frown on your face but he did notice you huff at him and move away from his touch, refusing to look at him. 

“Okay.. Hey, no. I didn’t.. I didn’t mean it like that. Fuck.” He bit his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut with regret of his choice of words. You kept your back to him as you continued to undress. He groaned. “You would have died. And it would have been on me. I couldn’t live with that, is all.” 

“Well, I was passed out so it would have been a quick death, if that's of any consolation to you.” You answered shortly as you stripped down to your underwear. You don't think he understood that you stopped caring whether you lived or died a long time ago. 

“Okay, could you not be a bitch for two seconds?” He sighed, already annoyed by your attitude. 

“No. If you want a girl who doesn't talk back to you, go find Countess. Oh, wait, you can't ‘cause she sold you to the Russians. Guess you're stuck with me.” You answered with even more spitefulness, just to tick him off a little bit more. You didn't need to read his mind to know he was beyond pissed. You weren't exactly in a colorful mood, either. Your back was still turned to him as you tossed your bloodied gear in a corner. 

He breathed in deeply, pitching the bridge of his nose, “Violet, look at me when I'm talking to you.” 

You turned around with exasperation, your eyes open wide with a ‘what’ expression as you motioned your hands around passive-aggressively. 

“I didn't mean what I said. I know you were trying to help me… And I know that you can't always control your powers. I sometimes can't deal with my own head, I can't imagine having to deal with everybody else's.” Ben wasn't one to apologize. He was actually allergic to the words I'm sorry. You knew that. But you knew he at least tried to apologize using other words. So you listened. You knew he was having a hard time, too. “But I'm not really one to talk. I think I'm the one that's fucked in the head.” 

Your lips slightly parted at his words and you looked at him with a tiny bit of sadness. You never asked him details of what happened to him. Sure, you could look, but you never wanted to dig through his mind without his permission. He'd tell you if he really wanted to. But you didn't need to know everything to understand that what he went through messed him up. And it messed him up a lot. What happened at Herogasm was proof of that. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened at Herogasm? Don't make me look through your head, I don't want to.” You sighed softly, ultimately giving in, like you always did. Your delicate fingers dragged over his vest as you absentmindedly began to take off his gear. 

Ben stayed silent for a long time. He didn't think he even knew what happened. You were down to the last layer of the top part of his suit by the time he opened his mouth. 

“I blacked out. I don't.. I don't know what the fuck happened. I was talking to the fuck twins and then nothing. Next thing I remember is the burned bodies and the place was all fucked up.” He breathed out a little unevenly, a frown knitted deep on his face. He looked down at you when you stayed silent. “I didn't mean to. You believe that, right?” 

You did. But did he? 

“Of course I believe you.” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, hands flat on his chest. He brought one of his hands to the back of your hair, holding your head in place. After a few seconds, you hummed, parting your lips slightly. “Can I ask you a question?” 

He nodded. 

“Why didn't you kill Homelander? You had a shot. Why didn't you take it? You would have done the whole fucking world a favor.” 

Ben stared at you with confusion. Did you really not get it? Were you that clueless or was he just that bad at showing his devotion for you? Probably the latter. 

“You saw what my blast did to the house. You wouldn't have survived that. I should have, I know, Butcher won't stop fucking reminding me. But he has nothing left to lose. Can't kill two girlfriends in the same week, y'know?” 

Your mouth fell open with indignation and you shoved at his chest, but deep down you felt warm at the fact that he chose you over his mission, for once. You still pretended to be angry at him, though. “Fucking prick.” 

He brought his lips to your jaw, leaving blunt kisses and you pretend to hate it. But the smile on your face was inevitable. 

“Wanna shower now or what?” He eventually said. That was the reason you were in the bathroom after all. 

You nodded. You could use the hot water on your bruised skin. You finished stripping, Ben just watched you with a perverted grin and smacked your ass before he stripped himself. 

He got in first, turning on the water and letting it run until steam began to fill the small space. He knew you liked it boiling hot. He didn't mind. You got in and immediately went under the shower head. You moaned in relief, the hot water running down your tense muscles, alleviating the soreness on your body. Ben watched you with a surprising amount of patience as he stood behind you. He leaned down and pressed his soft lips behind your neck, licking along the skin before he moved down your neck to your shoulder. He rested his hands on your hips, squeezing the skin as lightly as he could. You had enough bruises for one day. 

“I'm gonna take care of you tonight, m’kay?” He mumbled against your skin before he made you turn around. 

He crashed his lips against yours, rough fingers gripping your jaw as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You whined, already craving more. When he kissed you like this, you just couldn't help yourself. 

“Need you, please.” You were breathless against his lips, your blunt nails digging into his chest desperately. He gave your bottom lip a small tug as he pulled away. 

He made you stand in front of him, his back to the shower wall as he slowly sank to his knees. Your eyes followed him longingly.

“C'mere.” He pulled you towards him, his eyes were full of greed as he made eye contact with you while he directed you to rest one of your feet on his shoulder. 

His eyes stayed locked with yours as leaned forward and licked a long stripe from your hole up to your clit. He wrapped his lips around the bud and sucked. You gasped, instantly pressing your hand against the damp wall to keep yourself up. Your mouth fell open in delight as he dragged his tongue around your sensitive clit. 

“O-Oh. Shit. Shit, Ben.” You whined softly, your free hand falling to his wet hair. He held your hip with one hand, steady vice grip holding you in place as he pushed his tongue into your hole. You swore the cry you let out was heard in the entire apartment. “Oh, my God. Fuck. That feels so good.” 

Ben hummed in approval as you wrapped your fingers around his hair and held his face against you. As if he would go anywhere. He happily kept his mouth on you, head moving up and down as he worked you with his tongue, his nose brushing your clit with every movement of his head. To say that you were so close was an understatement. You could feel your leg start to give out under you the longer you felt that heat build in your stomach. Ben was more than happy to assist you with that, too. His free hand grabbed the underside of your thigh and forced you further against his mouth until your leg was dangling over his shoulder. His other hand stayed on your hip, vice grip holding you upright effortlessly. 

His tongue found your clit one more time, and the emptiness it left was replaced by two long fingers pushing into your cunt. Your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell open in a silent cry. You leaned your forehead against the tile as you dug your nails into his scalp. Fuck, you didn't remember the last time a man ate you out, let alone ate you out like this. It felt so good you wanted to cry, you didn't even remember the pain in your body, all you could feel was pleasure. 

“Feels good, doesn't it sweetheart?” He spat into your clit as he fucked you with his fingers. If the shower hadn't been running the lewd sound of his fingers dragging in and out of your wet hole would've been so loud. But he could still hear it, and fuck did he love it. He took a second to look up at you. Such a pretty little thing when you were so close. “Oh, you wanna come don't you? Mhmm, yeah, you do. C'mon, gimme what I want. I know you can do it.” 

His tongue was back on your clit, he licked harsh stripes as he slipped his thick fingers in and out of your cunt with urgency. The sounds of him licking and sucking on your clit were almost as filthy as the sounds coming out of your mouth. His fingers fucked you without mercy, there was not a single thing gentle about his touch. It was rough and relentless. Just like he was. And it had you seeing fucking white before you even realized. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, lips parting in a silent cry as you held his face against you. But it wasn't like he'd go anywhere, if anything he kept his tongue on your swollen clit and his fingers never stopped. Tears formed in your eyes as your thighs shuddered. And when he didn't stop you were pulling at the ends of his hair to pull him off you. He groaned at this. Quite unhappy to be leaving the warm place between your thighs. 

“I wasn't done.” He looked up at you with a frown. You took in a deep breath, blowing out a small laugh as you grabbed at his face, weakly attempting to pull him back up.

“You can be down there all you want later, I just..” You swallowed hard, somewhat regaining your composure as he stood up to his full height. You pulled him down by his face and kissed him, and you kissed him fucking hard. And the taste of yourself still left on his tongue made you need him even more. “Just need you, okay?” 

“Need me where?” He grabbed your jaw, fingers sprawled out over your throat as he held your face back. He stared you down, malicious eyes full of greed as he waited for your answer. And he wouldn't give you anything until you did.

“Inside me.” You muttered through gritted teeth, almost delirious as you rubbed your thighs together with anticipation. He didn't look satisfied. You breathed in deeply, the aching need between your legs unbearable. “Need your cock, inside me, right now, Ben.” 

He lifted his eyebrows up in satisfaction and gave you a simple hum before he switched positions with you, without a word pressing your front against the shower wall. 

“I fuck you once and you're already acting like a pathetic whore? Okay. But you better fucking take my cock like the good fuck doll you've always been, hm?” He kicked your legs apart with his knee, his back pressing you further into the wall as he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance. You took a deep breath. “Yeah, you're gonna take this cock like a good lil’ fuck doll.” 

You gasped when he pushed himself inside with a snap of his hips, but it quickly turned into a moan when he pushed himself to the hilt, hips rutting against your ass. You dug your nails into nothing as you closed your eyes, taking in the delicious feeling of his thick cock stretching your walls.

“What a tight fucking cunt.” He grunted, gripping your hips, not wasting any time. He barely gave you time to adjust. “So fucking wet. Just for me, huh?” 

You were nodding against the wall instantly, pushing your ass back against him as he fucked you without mercy. You felt his lips on your shoulder as he leaned over you. The lewd sound of slapping skin was drowned out by the shower running but you could hear it clear as fucking day. 

“Yes! Mhmm feels so good.” You moaned softly, mindlessly reaching behind you to touch him, any part of him. Your fingers found his beard as you ran your hand over his face desperate to feel him, then you found his hair, and you latched on for dear life as he drilled into you. 

“Yeah? Like how my cock feels in your guts? You missed it, didn't you?” He pressed the side of his face into your head, allowing himself to close his eyes and soak the feeling of your nails on his scalp, he could even feel the faintest bit of electricity shooting through your fingers. He fucking loved it. 

“Yes! God yes.” You couldn't even describe how much. 

Ben smirked at this as he wrapped his arm over your chest and his fingers found your throat. He forced your head back, making you look at him. 

“Open your mouth,” He ordered, he held his finger to your pulse as he felt the fast rate of your heartbeat. You did as he said, and with a huff he spat in your mouth. “Slut. Swallow it.” 

How he could so easily break you down to nothing and treat you like no other man could, truly was beyond your understanding. But your mind didn't have to understand it. Your body just did it. You felt a pool of wetness seep through you at the damn near animalistic groan that rumbled in his throat. 

“You're such a good fucking girl.” He spat, pressing his lips against yours in a messy filthy kiss. You could barely keep your mouth open, not with the way he was so determined to make you fall apart for him. “You're my good fucking girl.” 

“I want to come. Please I—fuck.”  Your words were broken as your whole body burned up, and it wasn't from the hot water. 

“Of course, you do. It just feels so good, doesn't it?” He squeezed your throat harder, only choked out sounds could leave your mouth as he slipped his other hand to your swollen clit and rubbed harsh circles. 

Your orgasm hit you so hard you didn't realize it until you were shaking violently, your eyes rolled back into your head as you fucked yourself on his cock. Not that he ever stopped. He moaned loudly at the feeling of your wetness seeping on him. The wet sound of his cock slapping against your cunt made him want to come, too. 

“Fuck. Fucking Christ Violet. C'mon, make me come. Fuck yourself on my cock just like that. Be a good fuck doll for me, that's it.” His hand left your throat to pull at your hair. He dug his fingers deep into your scalp as his face fell on your shoulder. With a deep grunt he held you down on him. “Fucking take it, that's it, girl. Just like that. Fuck.” 

You could feel your mixed releases slip down your thigh. You sighed deeply, allowing yourself to close your eyes in ecstasy as he pressed his lips to your jaw. You hummed softly, reaching behind you to run your fingers through your hair. 

“I never want to leave this cunt. Feels so fucking good.” He muttered against your skin. 

You laughed softly, eyes still closed, you breathed heavily, “You're gonna have to eventually.” 

“Like fuck I am.” 

Both of his hands were on your hips and he turned you around. You whimpered softly at the emptiness he left you, but it was quickly replaced by choked out gasp when he grabbed both of your thighs and effortlessly hoisted you up around his waist. Your back was pressed against the tile wall and he slipped his cock inside you without a warning.

“Ben—” 

“You wanted my cock inside you? Well you better fucking take all of it. Every fucking inch ‘til I say so. You want it, don't you?” He spat, already fucking into you like you were nothing more than a toy. He held you up by your thighs as he kept them wide open so he could take as much as he wanted. And that he did. “Of course you do, this cunt is all mine to with as I fucking want. That ain't never gonna change.” 

What a long fucking night you were going to have. But you'd take a million of this over another day without him in your life. And this? This was all you ever wanted. You didn't need anything else, just him.

[angelically-yours]

Disease | Billy Butcher x Female Reader Oneshot | 18+ SMUT MDNI!!!

Plot: After the disaster with Neuman and the supe-killing virus, you find yourself trailing alongside Butcher on whatever road trip he’s taking you on. Where? He won’t say but the car ride is long and silent. You’re terrified of him, for obvious reasons, after seeing what he was capable of, but you both still can’t help but feel the tension from before, despite his new powers.

Warnings: Porn with some plot, Reader uses fem pronouns/fem anatomy, mentions of blood and canon violence, NO use of y/n, smoking, DUBCON(???), Butcher is meaaaan and manipulative/slightly ooc uses his tentacles to stimulate you but no penetration, teasing, nipple play, Unprotected PinV (don’t be dumb, plz wrap it), doggy position, nicknames (Pup, Dove, Love, etc.), swearing, downright filthy I’m so sorry-

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: It’s here!! I wasn’t expecting so much love and enthusiasm for this prompt so I can’t thank you guys enough for this! ❤️ please enjoy! I’m so sorry this took so long 😭

A disease, as defined by Merriam-Webster, refers to a condition that disrupts the normal operations of a living organism or its components. This condition is typically marked by specific signs and symptoms. Merriam-Webster also defies a disease as a disordered state of the mind or intellect, or a corrupt state of morals in society.

There is no better way to describe William Butcher than that.

You were currently stopped at a gas station in Bumfuck, Nowhere. Somewhere just on the border of New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Billy was pumping gas as you came out with a slushy in hand. Cherry mixed with Coke, of course. You tossed the plastic bag full of snacks into the passenger seat through the window, gazing up over the hood of the black Cadillac to him.  It had only been over an hour since what happened with Neuman, the memory surging through your veins and swirling in your stomach.  You saw it all. You were right there next to Hughie discussing with the rest of the team on how to use the virus and Victoria against Homelander. Her daughter was right there. Butcher went MIA after passing out in a bar days ago, so imagine your surprise when he showed up, looking like when you first met. The color in his skin was back, the menacing light in his eyes returned. You knew that look. You remember the gross black tendrils that ripped through his chest towards Victoria. The sound of blood splattering on the pavement was engraved, on a broken record, ringing through your ears. Butcher’s large hand engulfing your bicep took you out of your daze of deep red, meeting his icy blue stare. His voice was a low rumble. “Yer with me, luv’.”  He called out to the rest of the team who was just in as much shock as you. “Oh, by the way…” “You’re all fuckin’ welcome.”

The next thing you knew, you were here, as if waking up from a nightmare. Only the nightmare was real. “Where are we even going, Butcher?” You asked over the hood. His nose scrunched up a little, annoyed by the question you’ve been asking for the last hour. “Come off it, luv… do I need to remind ya of what happened? Could jog yer memory…” He threatened with a low timbre. This wasn’t the Butcher you worked with over 5 years ago. This was some other monster and you hated him. Without another word, you got back into the car with him and he began to drive again. The only sound was the soft drone of the wet and dark road under the tires. The soft glow of street lights as they passed illuminated his face. Your eyes drifted down to where his jaw met his neck. A small, black, worm-like creature under his skin snaked its way up his jaw towards his ear, making goosebumps form on your arms. You quickly looked away, looking back to the road.

A couple minutes later, his voice cut through the silence harshly.

“Fuck off, mate…”

It startled you a little, making your shoulder move up in a soft jump. You’ve heard him mumble to himself before, but he was more confident with it now. You recall a memory…

MM had just kicked Butcher out of TruthCon. Butcher was rightfully pissed. You decided to follow shortly after getting a talking to from MM after he nearly knocked out Billy and by the time you approached…

“Oi, fuck off…” Butcher’s voice carried through the empty backlot, as did the sound of one of his recent coughing fits.

Did he spot you? You grew closer and he turned, his reddened eyes meeting yours. He looked pale, sickly.

“Sorry… I’m just trying to understand why you have been acting this way.” you prodded.

He let out that stupid signature smirk followed by a scoff.

“Don’t know what ya mean, luv… I’m just tryin’ to get shit done around ‘ere. Got no time to sit around jerkin’ these fuckwits off and doin’ fuck all while Sage is in there.” As he rambled, his eyes went back behind him. You could see the look of confusion as if he was… looking for someone.

“Hey, I’m not done yelling at you.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood and get him back to your eyes. When his steel eyes met yours again, he shook his head softly, parting his lips to speak again. There was a silence, a moment of understanding as he looked at you.

“Come on then… Boys’ll need us…”

You settled onto the slightly damp sheets of the cheap motel. The only sound was the drone of the rickety air conditioning unit. It was ungodly humid so you went to crack the front door open, just to be stopped by a large hand snaking from behind you. Butcher’s warmth radiated from his coat through your flannel shirt and jeans. Too close. “It’s humid.” you spoke sternly. “You’ll live.” He replied shortly before securing the gold latch above your hand. You didn’t even give him a chance to sit before finally hitting that breaking point. “Okay, what the fuck is going on?” You placed your hands on your hips, like a disgruntled parent.  He looked at you incredulously, raising an eyebrow and letting out a short laugh through his nose. “Don’t know what ya mean, luv.” He replied, taking off his trench coat. Your eyes couldn’t help but dart to his arms, those same arms that you wished would wrap around your head and- Nope. Not right now. Push that thought away.

“How about we start with you disappearing for three days straight and then coming back all of a sudden looking like you didn’t have cancer?” You asked, your tone sharp.

Butcher looked at you, pausing in his steps momentarily. Like you were actually getting through to him…

“You took V. And you didn’t tell me.” You spat once more, standing taller. Braver.

“And don’t even get me started on all this secrecy, me not knowing where we’re going, why you dragged me into this without asking me?”

“But you came along anyway, didn’ ya? Obedient pup, you are…” he mumbled, his smile challenging. That damn smirk…

In a way, he was right. You didn’t have to follow, but you did. You didn’t ignore the flutter in your stomach at that name either.

‘Pup’.

“I promised I was in this with you until the end didn’t I? After TruthCon? After what happened with Ezekiel?” You reminded him, your voice gentler. You moved your hands to cross your arms.

He looked at you, studied you. Like he was looking at a ghost. But he went back to his duffle, his tone low.

“Yeah… ya did. Guess that’s why I picked ya…” he replied, a rasp to his voice.

The room fell silent suddenly and you took the opportunity to take a shower after a long day.

The water wasn’t hot, but warm enough. The shampoo dried out your hair and the conditioner was useless. With a sigh, you used the small bar of soap to rinse off the grime of the day, your eyes landing on a drop of blood in your arm.

Nueman’s blood…

You scrubbed at it until your skin was raw, the warm water from the shower only making things worse. But you didn’t care. No matter how hard you scrubbed, it was still there. Under the surface, spreading like a fungus to your hammering heart.

Just breathe. It’s over, You tell yourself. It’s all over…

When you exited the shower, you were alone. Each bed empty and the door outside to the balcony propped open with the safety latch. Wrapping the stiff towel around you, you padded across the damp feeling carpet towards the front door, peeking through the crack.

Billy was outside, smoking a cigarette. The cherry red end lit up his lower half, catching the shine of some grey hairs that stuck to his dark beard. You couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs at the sight, your argument long forgotten.

“Havin’ a nice look, aye?” He muttered, his whiskey smooth tone sounding stuffy past the white stem of the cigarette between his lips.

“Can ‘ear your heart from here, luv…”

His broad shoulders turned to get a look at you, both of his elbows resting against the railing as he tilted his head. His tacky palm leaf shirt was buttoned low. He was watching you carefully. His eyes were black, dangerous, as they raked down your body.

You swallowed and took a step back, noticing his shadow moving with you under the door. The artificial light behind him cast a figure in the doorway, making him appear menacing. You couldn’t help but feel that familiar warmth spreading just under your stomach. You watch as he tilts his head yet again, slowly.

A low rumble escapes his throat, a laugh.

“You always ‘ad such an interestin’ flutter to your heart, pup… ‘eard it when I took that Temp V… can ‘ear it now…” He spoke lowly, so full of bass it nearly shook your chest. He took a couple steps forward, heavy boots against carpet, before closing the door.

And suddenly, you felt trapped. Not that you were complaining.

“I know you’ve noticed me talkin’ to somethin’… somethin’ that ain’t there…” he smirked.

“And it says a lot about you…”

You couldn’t help the tremble in your voice.

“W-What about me?” You prodded, the back of your legs hitting the edge of the closest bed.

“How it absolutely wants to take you and ravish you ‘til you’re gaspin’ and pleadin’ us to stop.” He spoke so matter-of-factly. As if it was destined to happen eventually.

And maybe it was.

And that’s how you ended up here.

Your towel was long forgotten in the floor, thighs parted as he eyed at you like artwork. He was rudely still clothed, unable to get enough of the sight. Your hair was still wet against the pillowcases, spreading out in a fan.

“Just let ‘im play with your pretty tits, yeah? Won’t ’urt you, promise…” he spoke smoothly against your ear, his beard scratching as he kissed just below it. Your skin prickled as his breath fanned over you, the heat feeling almost too much.

There was a squelching sound, familiar to you from before. And then you felt it.

Sticky, but not uncomfortable as it slithered up your abdomen towards your breasts. Heavy and hot. Your breath hitched at the contact.

“B-Billy, I don’t know-” you stuttered out, but he cut you off.

“S’alright, pup, let ‘im play…” he crooned, deep and threatening.

The tentacle flicked over your hardened nipples, resulting in a whimper from your throat. Your hips rolled up against this beefy thigh that sat between your legs.

“Look at you, luv… pretty as a fuckin’ paintin’ you are…” he hums, his lips moving down your collarbone.

Another squelch came from his chest, quiet and ominous as it wrapped around your thigh, parting it for him. Another tentacle wrapped around your other thigh, parting it as well. Billy finally pulled up and you could have smacked that stupid grin off his face if he wasn’t so hot.

“My girl… all spread and drippin’ for me, eh?” He chuckled. His thumb found your clit, swirling the digit around and making you whine. Your thighs struggled against his tentacles.

“B-Billy, wait-”

“Nah. Waited too fuckin’ long.” He interrupted, his finger not slowing despite you pulling against the current

The tentacle that once sat pretty on your chest slithered down, leaving a slimy black trail behind that left you both thrilled and disgusted. It flicked over your clit, replacing his hand as his fingers brushed against your weeping cunt.

“Already so fuckin’ messy, huh pup?”

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you, your hips writhing as he inserted a finger, curling it upwards against your gummy walls. You muttered his name, low and sweet as your lashes fluttered.

“Look at you, good fuckin’ girl just can’t help herself… s’alright, poppet…” he teased rudely. So mean.

“Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, yeah? She’s beggin’ me, she is…”

The way he spoke to you was enough to result another whimper from your lips.

He inserted another finger, moving them in a scissoring motion for you. You groaned his name, your hips bucking up against his hand as his tentacles kept their strict position on your thighs. Butcher let out a low and mocking hum, kissing your temple and letting his beard scratch at your jaw.

He teased you relentlessly, mocked you, made you feel used… and you liked it. The way your skin prickled under his breath, his fingers scissoring you open… it was all so delicious and yet felt so wrong.

“Bet this is why I took you with me… for my use. When this fucked up lil’ life gets t’much…”

“Listen to her squelch, pup, s’fuckin’ needy…”

“Bet you like this, huh? Bein’ my good little doll, all for me… m’so lucky, sweethear’…”

You felt so hot and sticky, not only from the tentacles holding onto your trembling, plush thighs, but from how close he was. A small sheen of sweat was seen on his chest just under the tuft of hair on his pectorals. Your lips found the hollow of his throat which resulted in a deep growl that rumbled your chest.

“P-Please, Billy… too much…” you managed to stutter. Butcher tutted at your pitiful sob, but in his eyes, you’ve never been more beautiful. You looked absolutely broken, glossy eyes and swollen lips from his rough kisses that led to this moment in the crisp white sheets. The rise and fall of your chest with each gasping breath and pornographic moan. Soft and supple skin slick with sweat, thighs covered in your arousal.

He had enough.

In a swift motion, he had you on your stomach, bare ass high in the air and face smooshed into the cheap pillowcase. His tentacles were tight around your thighs still, another one emerging to press on your back to keep you down as he unbuckled his belt. The sound of metal was piercing to your ears.

“Billy, wait, we don’t have a condom-!” You protested, despite feeling the emptiness with his fingers now gone.

“No, no, dove, I’ll pull out. Swear on m’life.”

You didn’t even have to look at him to know that was a lie. You could hear the smile on his face.

You feel him slide against your soaked folds, gliding upwards towards the forbidden (for now) area of your puckered hole. He was searing, hot and heavy against your sensitive skin, not huge in length, but girthy and thick. Your skin was so slick that you couldn’t tell what part of his tentacles were touching you and what were his hands. But you felt him spread you apart to get a good look at every inch he could.

“Fuck me… been hidin’ this all along, havent ya? Look at ‘er…” he grumbled, more to himself than anything.

He leaned down, grabbing the nape of your neck in one large hand while whispering.

“Now just hang tight and let me feel ya, luv…”

It was slow, so painstakingly slow. Deep. A stretch that left you gasping for air.

“Eaaaasy, girl, easy… should see how she’s takin’ me, fuccck…”

His hiss caused a whimper and a hum of approval out of you. Something you never thought would come out of your mouth. Yet, here you are, ass up feeling him pulsing into you.

His tentacles wiggled gently like a snake around your limbs and left inky trails. His large hand tightened around your neck as if to keep him grounded. Like you were the only thing keeping him tethered that this was very real.

His thrusts were even and deep, so deep. You were so drunk on the feeling, you didn’t even notice the drool pooling onto the pillow as a groan escaped past your lips.

“Poor girl, droolin’ like the right pup you are… Ohhh… that’s a good girl.”

He let up his grip on your neck as his hands clawed down your back to dig into your hips. Just before you could adjust to breathing again, you feel a tentacle wrap around your neck as it tightens a bit. You could feel it… the shit eating grin on his face as him and his little helpers took you this way.

“Oh, if only you could fuckin’ see what a fuckin’ lovely mess you are, poppet…” he whispered in your ear, harsh through his smiling teeth. He picked up the pace, groaning deeply with each thrust to the hilt.

Hot tears streaked down your flushed cheeks and soaked the pillows. Skin slapped against skin, filling you to the brim of him. The scent of cheap cigarettes and whiskey from him, his throbbing cock in your wet heat, his large hands at your hips as he watched. You were so ruined, you couldn’t even pay attention to the words he was saying. He was so filthy.

The slimy tendrils suddenly tightened, including the one around your throat as he lifted you against his chest. The coarse hairs stung at your back. His pace never stopped, pulling out and slamming back into you like in a desperate effort. Like you were the only thing that could cure his hunger. His rough beard scraped against your jaw and his teeth, found your neck, biting into you like an animal pinning its mate.

“Gonna cum in this pretty cunt, yeah? ‘S all I want, luv, please?” He asked in that mockingly sweet tone. You were too fucked out to answer, too focused on the feeling of him all around you. In your fluttering pussy and on your arms and throat, all so sticky and wet with a sweet mix of sweat, arousal and inky slime.

“P-Please, Billy… need it so bad…” you managed to rasp out past a whimper. He smiles at that as your ass slams against his thighs.

“Gonna cum… please make me cum…”

“I got ya, cum on my fat cock, pup…” he cooed with a kiss to your temple. His tongue sliding over your salty skin was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

In a white hot wave to your senses, you let out a loud and whiny moan. He curses under his breath, muttering absolutely nothing into your ear as his cock twitches in you, spitting white ropes that coated your used walls in warmth. Time stood still for a moment as you both caught your breath.

Your skin stuck to each other, separating only when he pulls out and his tendrils retract back into the gaping black mass on his chest. You were left boneless against the sheets, limbs loose. The shuffling of sheets was the only thing keeping you in this reality of what just happened as he got a rag to clean you with. The towel was cold against your heated skin as he swiped off your mixed release.

The next thing you knew, your breath was knocked from you when he pulled you against his bare skin, big arms engulfing you. A soft kiss was pressed to your temple past his scratchy mustache.

“M’sorry for all of it… letting you see that… dragging you with me after it all. Deserve better than me…” he muttered, nuzzling into your hair and taking a breath.

“I… I don’t think so.” You finally confessed past a soft voice.

He chuckled at that, low and mighty.

“Yeah well… you’re stuck with me now, darlin’.”

A/N: Holy shit gang, we got here. Nearly six months later! Thank you to those who have been so patient with me. I really have my best friend to thank as well as she helped me write some lines (real queens help write smut)

Thank you SO much and let me know what you think! Banners: @fic-dumpster & @cafekitsune

[galaxy-stardust]

Time-out with the Task Force

Part 5

The fire crackled, filling the quiet gaps between words. Outside, the wind howled against the cabin walls, a reminder of the snowstorm still raging beyond the safety of their hideaway.

Price swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the flames dance. "Y’know, I remember a time when you didn’t say more than five words to any of us, Ghost."

Soap smirked. "Aye, and half of those were probably 'fuck off' or 'stay sharp'."

Ghost scoffed, shifting in his chair. “Still applies, mate.”

Gaz chuckled. "And yet, here you are, sittin’ all cozy in a cabin, staring at her like she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you."

Ghost didn’t take the bait, but his fingers tapped against his knee, a subtle tell.

Price leaned back. “Truth be told, I worried about you for a long time, Simon.” His voice carried the weight of years of battles, of losses, of seeing too many good soldiers break. “Didn’t think you’d ever let someone in.”

Ghost exhaled slowly, rubbing a thumb over the edge of his glove. “Didn’t think so either.”

Soap nudged him with his foot. “So what changed?”

Ghost was quiet for a moment, watching the fire. Then, in a voice low and steady - "She didn’t leave.”

No one spoke.

It wasn’t just words. It was a weight. A confession without being one.

Price nodded slowly. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? Finding someone who stays.”

Soap hummed. “Aye… most don’t.”

Gaz glanced toward Ghost. “And you? You stayin’ too?”

Ghost’s fingers curled slightly against his knee. His gaze flicked to where you slept, bundled up, peaceful, unaware of the conversation unfolding around you.

“…Yeah.”

Soap grinned, lifting his glass. “Well, ain’t that somethin’.”

Gaz smirked. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Price just chuckled, taking another slow sip. “Enjoy it while you can, lads. The world doesn’t give us much of this.”

The fire crackled, and for once, Ghost let himself just be.

~~~~~~~~~

The fire burned low, casting long shadows across the wooden walls. The storm still rattled outside, but inside, it was warm - comfortably so. The quiet between them wasn’t heavy, wasn’t awkward. Just men who had spent years together, who didn’t need to fill every silence with words.

Soap stretched out in his chair, rolling his shoulders with a grunt. “Damn, I’m gettin’ too old for this shite. Back’s killin’ me.”

Gaz snorted. “You’re what, thirty?”

Soap scowled. “It’s an experienced thirty, thank you very much. And my body’s been through more than yours.”

Gaz leaned forward. “Mate, I’ve been shot. Twice.”

Soap held up a hand. “Ah, ah, but have you fallen off a moving helicopter and survived?”

Gaz blinked. “…You fell off a heli?”

Price sighed, rubbing his temples. “He jumped off the damn thing.”

Soap grinned. “Semantics, Cap’n. Thought it was goin’ down, figured I’d rather take my chances with the ground than an explosion.”

Ghost huffed, shaking his head. “Daft bastard.”

“Hey, worked, didn’t it?” Soap smirked. “Broke my leg, but I lived.”

Price chuckled. “You lot ever think about how much shite we’ve survived?”

Gaz exhaled. “Honestly? No. If I did, I think I’d have a crisis.”

Soap tapped his chin. “Best near-death moment? Go.”

Ghost lifted a brow. “Best?”

Soap shrugged. “Aye, y’know, the kind where you should’ve died, but somehow, you pulled some ridiculous shite and made it out.”

Gaz smirked. “Like the time you ran through a burning building with a hostage while also being shot at?”

Soap grinned. “Exactly!”

Price sighed. “Y’know, back in my day, we didn’t call that a ‘best’ moment. We called it a fuckin’ disaster.”

Ghost shifted in his chair. “Karachi. Had to crawl through a sewer pipe with a busted arm. Thought I’d bleed out before I made it to the exfil.”

Soap winced. “Oof. That’s grim, mate.”

Gaz snorted. “Still not as bad as Soap’s great ‘heli jump’.”

Soap threw a pillow at him. “Oi, legendary heli jump.”

Ghost smirked. “Legendarily stupid.”

Price chuckled, taking another sip of whiskey. “Hell, I remember back when I was still green - thought I could clear a minefield by walking real careful.”

Gaz stared. “Did it work?”

Price grinned. “Still here, aren’t I?”

Soap whistled. “That’s some next-level luck, Cap’n.”

Price shrugged. “Not luck. Just a very, very slow walk and a lot of prayers.”

Ghost shook his head, exhaling through his nose. “You’re all insane.”

Soap grinned. “Aye, and you love it.”

Ghost rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

The fire crackled, and for a moment, they just sat there, content in the quiet. Men who had been through hell together, laughing at the absurdity of survival.

A storm outside, warmth inside.

For now, that was enough.

Part 6

[cupidsworstcrime]

Johnny x reader angst cause im a sad sad bitch

based on this (yes i know im stupid)

You and your best friend have Polaroids of each other tucked into your phone cases. Yours is of him mid-laugh, eyes scrunched, sun catching on his lashes and that dumb little smirk of his taking up half the frame. His is of you in a hoodie three sizes too big, yawning with sleep-crusted eyes. He says it’s his favorite. Says it’s “the real you. No pretendin’. Just mine.”

You’ve both sprayed them—his smells like your perfume, yours like his woodsy cologne and somehow his gun oil. You pretend not to notice how often he lifts his phone to his face and breathes in. He calls it “home smell.” You pretend it doesn’t make your heart ache.

You go on midnight drives, him showing up in gym shorts and some ragged old shirt that should’ve been thrown out five years ago. He doesn’t even knock anymore, just texts: “Outside. Bring yer lazy arse. I need fries an’ a fat burger.” And you go. Of course you go. You always do.

“Can’t sleep without seein’ you,” he says one night like it’s casual. Like it doesn’t make your chest cave in.

When you were in the hospital, he let you call him thirty times a day. You did. He answered every single one. From the locker room. From work. From the middle of training. Whispering, grinning, eyes red, but happy. Always happy to hear your voice. “You okay? That’s all that matters. Nothin’ else.”

His hands are rough, calloused from battlefields and bars and whatever hell he walked through before he found you. But when they touch you—when they trace your skin—it’s like he’s holding something sacred. Like you’re a prayer he’s too afraid to say aloud. Like he doesn’t believe he deserves you but thanks every god anyway.

And you laugh during sex. Every time. When his leg cramps or you fall off the bed or he moans a little too loud. You giggle, and he hides his face in your shoulder and grins like it’s the only place he wants to be. “We’re a fuckin’ disaster,” he says. And you answer, “Yeah. But we fit.”

You fit.

He tells you about his day with his forehead against your shoulder, and that’s when you love him most. When it’s quiet. When he’s soft. When you get to pretend that this is it. That this is what forever could look like.

When you made a comment about your weight, not even seriously, he looked at you like you’d insulted something sacred. Next thing you know, he’s back in the gym, pushing himself like a man possessed. And when you joked again, he just growled, “Call yerself too heavy one more time an’ I’ll carry you e'erywhere. Don’t tempt me.”

You laughed.

He didn’t.

And when you asked him out—heart in your hands, throat tight with all the years of maybe—he cried. He actually cried.

“I love you so much it hurts,” he said, voice cracking, tears slipping down those beautiful, bruised cheeks. “But I’m not good for you. I’m broken. I’d ruin you. I’d ruin this.”

You didn’t argue.

You didn’t scream.

Because a part of you knew it was true. He’s chaos wrapped in charm. He’s fire. You’re kindling. And you’d burn so fast, so bright, you’d never come back from it.

So now?

You’re just friends.

And it kills you.

But you keep going. You still take the midnight drives. Still laugh at his stupid jokes. Still hold his hand when no one’s looking and pretend your heart isn’t crumbling.

Because loving him—even like this—is better than not having him at all.

And if this is all he can give, then you’ll take it.

Even if it burns every time he looks at you like he wants you.

Even if it never stops hurting.

Even if it means pretending forever.

Part 2

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

May I ask for a request of tangerine x reader who works with Tan and Lemon. Idiots in love type. And on a mission one takes a bullet for the other or does something stupid during a mission to keep the other safe? and then when they are in the clear they get into a big argument about how stupid the other was and like all the yelling and arguing leads to slipping out a love confession. You can choose who gets injured tan or reader.

Also, I could totally see Lemon in the back just watching them argue sipping on some water that isn’t poisoned.

hii sunshine! love love love it! thanks for requesting, hope you like it 💌 @thewinterv I combined this with your request, hope you don’t mind 🤍

HONESTY HOUR.

tangerine x implied fem!reader

word count. 792

warnings. couple blood mentions

Missions were always complicated with Tangerine. Not because he’s difficult to work with or unskilled, but instead it was your feelings towards him that made working with him so tricky. Confusing feelings pertaining to the unspoken, unacknowledged connection between you.

And because of that, you never knew where you stood with each other. You each knew there was something there, a spark as such, but neither of you would dare speak on it. These repressed emotions have been marinating for far too long, the approaching expiry date much like that of a ticking time bomb. 

Today's mission was particularly challenging: you and Tangerine were tasked to retrieve something —you still were unsure of what exactly— while Lemon retrieved the other. You’d all often split on missions, though today two diversions were needed, and without a moment to think on it, you found yourself following after Tangerine. 

In hindsight, it may have been stupid – the current bullet wound in your lower arm acting as a giant looming ‘I told you so.’ As soon as you and Tan were rushed into a trap —a setup— it all kind of went blank, and you fought on autopilot without a single comprehensive thought. 

You were hardly aware that you were hit until Tangerine noticed it – the trail of blood leaking from your arm and on the floor in an inconsistent pattern. 

“What the fuck have you done?” Tan yells, eyes widening as he rushes over to you – jumping over the small pile of dead bodies.

“I don’t know,” you shout back, looking down at your arm in panic. “I don’t know.”

“Oh fuckin’ hell,” he continues his yelling for some apparent reasoning. “God, this is a fuckin’ disaster,” he says, moving a hand to cover the wound in your arm, his palm firm over the small hole – trying to apply pressure. 

“It’s starting to hurt,” you wince, tugging your arm away. The adrenaline beginning to wear off.

He holds onto your elbow with his other hand, keeping you still and stopping you from pulling from his attempt of help.

“Keep bloody still, man,” he furrows, eyes narrowing at you for a brief moment. “Knew you should’ve gone with Lemon.”

“Well if I did, you’d be dead. So you’re welcome,” you retort, eyes squinting at him in that same frustrated way.

“Yeah, well too late for that now, ain’t it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snark, snatching your arm away – holding over the wound in the same way he did. “Don’t have to be such a dick to me all the time, okay? I’m trying.”

“You never fuckin’ think. You always throw yourself in danger and I have to come and bail you out,” he scoffs, staring you down. 

“I never ask you to.”

He chuckles, the sound amused. “Oh, come off it.”

“I don’t need you to treat me like I’m a little princess,” you retort once more. “I don’t need your help, okay? I’m fine on my own.”

“Well maybe that’s our fuckin’ problem then,” he says, voice far calmer now. 

“What does that mean?” you ask, tone softening like his. “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head, exhaling heavily. “Forget it. I don’t care anymore,” he scoffs. “We gotta get back to Lem and get you sorted.”

And as he goes to leave, walking past you, you grab a hold of his arm to halt him. “What do you mean by that?” you question, eyes darting over his face.

“Nevermind.”

“No,” you tug his arm, extending your neck to meet his eyeline. “Tell me.”

He sighs, purposely avoiding your eyes. “I care about you, alright?” he confesses, speaking almost reluctantly. 

You move to stand in front of him, making him face you – forcing him to look at you. You smile faintly at him, the softness in your eyes silently prompting him to say what else he was thinking.

“I like you, okay? I don’t wanna see you hurt,” he admits. “Happy now?”

You nod sincerely, smiling at him. “That’s why I always go with you… sounds stupid, but I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Yeah?” he says softly, a faint grin lining his lips. “So what’re you saying?” he chuckles, pushing you into a confession like you did him.

“I’m saying,” you pause. “I’m saying I like you.”

“You do?” he takes a step closer.

And before you have a moment to reply, you hear footsteps approach, the presence snapping you from this little honesty round with Tangerine. “Oi, there you fuckers are,” Lemon shouts, spotting you both. “Got shit to do, now chop chop.” And when he sees each of your faces, he can’t help but laugh. Both of you looked so guilty. “About to finally do it, weren’t you?”

I fear this may be total ass

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter XXIII: Bitter Tears and Broken Hearts

masterlist | playlist | prev. | pin | read on ao3 | read bee's diary

songs for this chapter: supercut by lorde, my oldest friend by have mercy, teenagers by hayley williams

chapter tags: dialogue heavy lore drop, you’re welcome!, angst, hurt/comfort (kinda?), mutual pining | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | REMINDER: THIS FIC IS RATED EXPLICIT. 18+ mdni.

a/n: i know it’s cruel to drop a flashback chapter after the events of the previous one… and yet im doing it anyway! ty wife for beta reading these last two chapters i love u

taglist @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r @justalotoffanfiction @bl0ssomanddie @eddiesgirl1944 @longlivedelusion @aliensfeltmyjoy @kissmyacdc

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, my tumblr and ao3 are the only account that feature and contain this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere Reblog to support the author!

—

May, Six Years Ago (four months before the arrest)

Bee:

“Tweety!” Eddie calls you from the end of the hallway, and you wave letting him know you’ve heard him. You take your English notebook from your locker, tossing it into your stuffed backpack. It’s the Friday before finals, the last of your high school career. Unfortunately, you don’t have that same hope for Eddie, who hasn’t once shown the motivation to even try at all in his classes this year.

“Hey,” He leans against the lockers next to yours. Much to your dismay, he’s not even carrying a textbook, let alone his backpack. “You ready?” It’s the end of the day, technically, but the bell has yet to ring signaling the official end of the day. 

“Yeah. Where’s your stuff?” 

“Ah, probably left it in Hellfire. Dustin can grab it for me.” Like it’s nothing. “You got plans tonight?”

“I’m hitting the library later with Robin, our English final is Monday.” You hoist your backpack onto your shoulder and follow Eddie out to his van. “You could come with us. I know for a fact you haven’t even looked at the book since it was assigned a month ago.” 

“Aw, Tweety. It’s like you know me or somethin’.” Eddie jests, nudging your shoulder with his. “I already got stuff planned, though. Chris and I are gonna hit up the shop, see what we can see. You should come.” 

“I have no desire to follow you both down the road of misdemeanors, believe it or not. Have fun, though. Don’t let Chris get you in more trouble than he’s worth.” You tug on the passenger door of his van while Eddie loops around to the driver’s side. 

“Not sure I can make any promises.” Eddie throws the car into drive, and peels out of the Hawkins High student lot.

—

Eddie:

He watches as you hop out of his van, and up the walkway to her house. Once you’re safely inside, he skirts off the curb, tires screeching as he makes his way to the body shop. 

“Ed!” Chris approaches him, wiping the motor oil from his hands with a goofy grin slapped on his face. “You’re never gonna believe what came in, man.” He motions Eddie into the shop, presenting him with the most beautiful machine ever to grace his presence. 

“No fuckin’ way.” He has to resist the urge to slide his hands across the hood. “Whose beauty is this?”

“That’s the best part. It’s Carver’s.”

Though Chris’s eyes are gleaming with a mad sort of eagerness, Eddie feels his heart skip. “Oh, dude, I don’t think I can go in on that with you.”

“C’mon, Ed. It is a ‘64 cherry red convertible. How’re you gonna pass this up?” 

“It’s the chief of police’s car, Chris.” 

“That’s just a bonus.”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me sit on it, man. I gotta go, though. You comin’?”

“Yeah, gotta clock out. What’s the rush?”

“Got invited to a study date, it’s rude to show up late.” He wrings his hands, fidgeting with the metal on his fingers. 

“A date, huh? Who’s the lucky lady? Or man, I don’t judge.”

“I’m not answering that.”

“So I know them, then. Guess I’m comin’ with ya.”

“Chris. Please, just. Let me have this.”

“Lemme think…. Nope!” He tosses the oil stained rag onto the workbench and grabs his duffel. “Cmon, Munson, you’ve got studying to do.”

–

Bee:

You and Robin have been studying the symbolism of every single book you’d read in class this year for three hours.

“I’m tired of this, Robin!” You groan, head in your notebook.

“Well, that’s too damn bad!” Robin slaps your arm with her deck of flashcards. “Now, why is it important to note the lack of authority in Lord of the Flies?”

Before you can muster up the strength to answer, there’s a cacophony of laughter bursting in through the door, followed by a fed up Mrs. Beasly shushing them to no avail.

“There she is!” Eddie and Chris stroll through the tables full of miserable high school seniors, over to where you and Robin sit in the corner, surrounded by books, note paper, and highlighters of every color. 

“Shh!” You and Robin both spit at the boys as they drag empty seats out from the table, Eddie flopping down next to you while Chris sits across from Robin. 

“Sorry!” Eddie whispers, holding his hands up in surrender. “Figured you’d been here long enough, we came to rescue you.”

“We’ll have you know, dingus, that neither Bee nor I need rescuing from you.” Robin bites, flipping a notebook page so hard it rips. “Shit.”

“Of course, you don’t need it, but we figure you might want it anyway.” Chris refutes, snatching her notebook out of her reach.

“Come on, some of us actually care about graduating!” 

“Ouch, Rob.” Eddie clutches his chest in mock offense. “Didn’t know you were so elitist about grades.”

“She’s not elitist, she’s just a nerd.” Chris teases, and Robin’s face goes red with frustration.

“Can you both just leave? Please?” You shove Eddie away from you for emphasis. “We’ll be out in an hour. Just give us that, okay?”

“Ugh, fine! But we’ll be coming for you in exactly sixty minutes. Be ready.” Chris gets up, and looks to Eddie. “C’mon, man.”

“Right, one sec.” Eddie looks back to you. “You promise you’ll come out?”

You nod. “If you leave right now, I will come out with you tonight.”

He holds out his pinky, and you hook it with your own. Finally, he gets up, and follows Chris out of the library.

“Such a pain in the fuckin’ ass.” Robin mumbles, and you snicker.

—

Eddie:

Before he can think better of it, Eddie shoves Chris harder than necessary. “What the fuck, man?”

“What? That obviously wasn’t a date, that was my sister and her weird friend. I saved you from hours of unnecessary boredom! And, they’re gonna come out tonight.”

“Y’know, I am more than capable of making my own decisions about my own free time.”

“Clearly, that’s not true. Now, c’mon, we gotta go get the keg for tonight.”

“How are you gonna get the keg if you’re with me? I’m not twenty-one, remember?”

“Maybe not, but you’ve got two extra arms I could use. Stay in the car, I’ll get it. You’re just gonna have to help me put it in the trunk.” 

“Fuck you, dude. You’re gonna be the reason she never talks to me again one of these days.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you can fuck that up all on your own.”

–

Bee:

You wish, desperately, that you hadn’t agreed to come out. The party is out at Lover’s Lake, and seems to be populated with every single delinquent in Hawkins. Unfortunately for you, this means your brother and Eddie are the center of attention. 

“Hey! You made it!” Chris approaches, red solo cup in hand with Eddie in tow. “You guys wanna drink?”

“Absolutely!” Robin snatches the empty cup from Chris. Before he can argue, he’s being pulled in another direction by one of his cronies, leaving you alone with Eddie.

“How’d you get stuck as the designated driver?” He matches your stride, falling into step as you follow Robin to the keg. 

“Didn’t really feel like waking up with a hangover tomorrow.” You shrug, taking a sip from the water bottle you’d brought with you. Eddie rolls his eyes. “What?”

“It’s senior year, Tweet. You gotta live a little bit.” He takes a swig of his drink and belches. You wrinkle your nose at the display. 

“I can live all I want when I get out of this Hellhole. So can you, Ed. You’re not like my brother, you don’t have to be stuck here forever.” You hadn’t meant to sound so distraught, but the crack in your voice makes you wince. 

“Chris isn’t stuck, Bee. He’s here because he wants to be. There’s nothing wrong with that, either.”

 It’s unbelievable how naive he is. “Why are you defending him? My brother’s a loser, Ed. You know it, too. I don’t get why you like him so much.”

“Can we stop talking about this for a second, please?” Eddie has raised his walls up, not willing to talk about anything that matters. “Just, try to have some fun, okay? For once?”

“Fine.” You snatch his drink from him, and gulp the rest of the lukewarm beer down your throat. “Fun enough for ya?” And before he can respond, you’re stomping off, into the woods, alone, only to stop to refill the cup.

–

“Tweety?!” You hear him before you see him, footsteps getting louder as Eddie ultimately finds you at the picnic table, about a mile away from the party. You’ve downed your second drink, and the trees around you seem to wiggle in the settling sun. You giggle to yourself, shaking with them.

 “Christ, Bee. You’re lucky it’s just me, you could be killed out here alone.” Eddie hikes up the incline, and sits across from you at the splintering table, now a home for the spiders and ants more than a place to sit. “You okay?”

“I’m great!” You say, definitely not great, but excessively intoxicated. You’re not used to drinking, so clearly you haven’t discovered your tolerance. Apparently, it’s pretty low. 

“Right, and I’m definitely buying that. What’s wrong?” He sounds like he cares, but you and Eddie haven’t been close in a long time, so you’re not sure you can trust your judgment of him right now. 

“Well, I’m wasted.” You avert his gaze, talking to your hands. “So don’t expect me to be gentle with you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other day, sweets.”

“My brother sucks. He sucks so badly. And I love him, seriously.” Words are falling out of your mouth before you can think. “His heart is so big and he is so kind, but he is such a reckless person, Ed.” Eddie only stares at you, unblinking while you ramble on. “He’s careless when it comes to his safety. He looks for trouble. I don’t want you going down that path.” You have to press your lips together between sentences to keep from bursting into tears. “I can’t watch you throw your life away.”

“I can take care of myself.” He defends, crossing his arms over his chest, brow furrowed. 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. You know I’m right, Ed. If you feel like hanging out with my moronic brother is the right thing for you, then that’s your choice. But you can’t blame me when all of it finally catches up to you. You can’t expect me to throw my life away, too.”

“Is this because of the library? Look, I wanted to come alone, but–”

“No,” You interrupt, shaking your head. “This isn’t about anything you did. I just know my brother. I know he loves you more than me, and it hurts like hell but I can’t do anything about it.” You’re not even sure you’re making sense, and Eddie isn’t giving you anything to work with. “I know he took my best friend from me, and he doesn’t see any issues with that. So now I’m here in the middle of the woods too drunk to tell that best friend that I am terrified of losing him.” Your voice cracks, and your resolve breaks. You catch your head in your hands as the tears begin to fall.

“Oh, Bee,” Eddie stands from his seat across from you, rushing to your side and wrapping his arms around you. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. You are still my best friend. The most important person in my whole entire universe, okay?” He kisses the crown of your head and pulls you closer, rubbing soothing circles as you cry into his chest while the crickets chirp in the trees.

–

Eddie:

“Go to prom with me.” It’s Monday, and you’ve just finished your first final of the week. You close your locker to see Eddie standing on the other side of it, a small bouquet of white daisies clutched in his shaking hand. He’s wearing a button down black shirt, and his hair is far tamer than usual. “Will ya?”

“What the hell are you doing?” You lean against the lockers, arms crossed with distrust. “Weren’t you the one that said prom was a scam? Built by ‘the man’ to trick kids into thinking we’re destined to have a perfect, fairytale night?”

Eddie only shrugs. “Maybe I am not immune to propaganda.”

“Why are you asking me? After all that shit I said on Friday, I figured I wouldn’t hear from you until you needed me to bail you out of jail.” It’s a mean joke, but you’re too upset to take it back. 

“You wound me.” Eddie pouts, offering the flowers to you. “But if there’s anyone I’d want to spend a miserable night making fun of everyone’s attire and the choice of music with, it’s you.” He gives you a half smile that never fails to make your stomach flutter. 

“Fine. I will go to prom with you. On one condition.”

“Anything you want.” His smile widens.

“You have to participate. No moping, no pranks, no bullshit. You have to lean into the fairytale. Just for one night.”

He groans dramatically, but ultimately decides against arguing with you. “Okay, fine. Deal.” Once again, he offers out his pinky, and you take it with yours. 

“Deal.”

–

Bee:

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror like it’s your job. You’ve been dressed for two hours, with your hair and makeup done as you pace around your bedroom, riddled with anxiety. 

“Can’t believe you convinced Munson to take you to prom.” Chris sits on your bed next to Robin, arms crossed as he watches you pace. “You must’ve hexed him or something.”

“Eddie used to like fun, believe it or not.” Robin spits, getting up to stop you from creating a literal rut in your floor. If anyone’s more sick of Chris than you, it’s Rob.

“He likes fun! Just, a different kind of fun.” Chris chuckles, swinging his legs up onto your bed in Robin’s spot. “You might like it, Bee. You too, Rob.” You roll your eyes, ignoring your brother’s instigation when the doorbell rings. 

“I’ll get it!” Robin scurries out of the room, leaving you alone with your brother. 

“You need to leave Eddie the fuck alone.” You look at Chris behind you in the mirror, and his eyes widen. “You’re gonna get him in fucking trouble, more than you already have.” You adjust the strap of your dress for the seventh time.  

“He’s a man, Bee. He can make his own decisions.” 

“And he’ll keep choosing you.” You turn abruptly to face him, to look him in the eye as you release your anger. “Because he looks up to you, for some reason completely unbeknownst to me. You’ve got him by the balls, and I need you to give my my fucking friend back.” You put as much venom behind your words as you can muster without ruining your lipstick. 

“I have absolutely no control over Eddie. He just likes me more than you. That’s why he hasn’t fuckin’ shown up yet.” You glance at your phone, and the time reads 7:45. He’s late, and you haven’t gotten a single text from him. 

“He’ll be here.” You mumble. “You, however, can get the fuck out.”

“Right, sure.” With that, Chris exits your room, and slams the door to his own. Robin returns with Steve, decked out in a slick black tux, next to her. 

“Sorry, I know I’m not the one you were hoping for.” Steve says sheepishly, but you wave it off. 

“No, but it’s just as nice to see you, Stevie.” You wrap your arms around him, and he hugs you close. “You look really good.”

“And you both look stunning. Can’t believe I’m taking the coolest girls to prom!” 

“Hey, you’re taking me. Bee has her own date.”

“Right, I forgot. Where is Prince Charming, by the way?”

You shake your head. “Pretty sure he stood me up.”

“No he fuckin’ didn’t.” Steve frowns at you. “He’d be the biggest imbecile in the world.”

You shrug. “Stranger things have happened.”

—

Eddie:

He’s been staring at himself in the mirror for the last hour. His navy blue suit is too small, jacket tight around his arms, cuffs not reaching his wrists. He feels stupid, and he’s certain he’ll look just as such standing next to you in a pretty dress. Everything feels wrong, he’s sweating, and he can’t convince himself to leave the house. The corsage he’d bought for you taunts him from his desk top.

He’d also gotten the news today that he wouldn’t be graduating this year. He failed three of his six finals, and had to repeat his senior year. Needless to say, he was not in the mood to party.

“Ed?” Wayne calls from the kitchen. “You almost ready? It’s impolite to keep your date waiting!”

“Wayne, I don’t think I can go.” Eddie mumbles, but Wayne still hears it because his footsteps are already approaching.

“What the hell do you mean?” He stands there, arms crossed in the doorway to Eddie’s room. “You said you had a date and everything!”

“Maybe I lied.”

“Why would you lie?”

“To not seem like such a goddamn loser! This suit is not helping with that, though.” He stretches his arms out in front of him, causing the sleeves to ride up higher on his arms. “I’ll just disappoint her anyway.”

“Then that’s her loss, son. Whoever this girl is, she’d be lucky to go to prom with you.” 

“I don’t think you’d be saying that if you knew who I’m supposed to be taking. Which is why I will not be sharing that information.”

Wayne frowns. “Are you sure you don’t wanna go?”

Eddie sighs, flopping down on his bed. “I can’t. She’s gonna be so mad at me, but I can’t do it.”

“You’re gonna have to make it up to her, then.” Wayne motions for Eddie to get up, and he does. Wrapping his arms around his nephew, he says, “I’m sure she’ll understand, but you should call her.”

—

Bee:

“Bee, please!” The knocking has become insistent. “I’m so sorry, please let me explain!” You’d gone to prom alone. Well, with Rob and Steve. You’d been lucky enough to have fun, despite the ache in your heart every single time a slower song would play. You’d had no one to laugh at the jocks with, no one to pretend to be miserable with. No slow dance partner. Eddie has now been standing outside your house for three hours, wearing a suit a size too small, wilted flowers in his fist. 

“Go away!” You shout from your bedroom window. You’re still in pajamas, the makeup from last night smeared on your cheeks from crying yourself to sleep. “You promised me, Eddie! I have nothing to fucking say to you.” 

“I’ll stand out here ’til you run away to school, baby. You can’t get rid of me.”

“I will literally call the fuckin’ cops.” You practically spit out your window. “Go home.” 

“Call ‘em! I’m not goin’ anywhere until you talk to me!”

You groan, slamming your window closed before rolling back into bed, face shoved in your pillow.

—

Eddie:

He’s about to give up when your front door opens. It’s not you he’s met with though, just your brother with a sour look on his face.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to apologize to your sister.” Eddie fiddles with his hands. “How mad is she?”

“She’s pretty pissed, man. Probably for the better, though. Not like you’d wanna be there anyway.”

Eddie sighs, climbing into the van and slamming his door. “That’s the thing, Chris. I did want to be there. With her. And I fucked it all up.” He cranks the radio down as he speaks, the sappy love ballad fading into background noise. 

“She’ll forgive you, man. You guys are best friends, there’s no way she’d hold that grudge.”

Eddie shrugs sadly. “I don’t think I can take your word for it.”

Chris walks around the van, hopping into the passenger seat before Eddie can object. “Okay, so don’t. Let’s go blow off some of this steam. But first, maybe change you out of this ridiculous attire?”

Despite himself, Eddie chuckles, throwing his van into drive and peeling out of your driveway, taking one last look at your closed bedroom window. 

–

It’s been a week, and Eddie hasn’t made another move to contact you. He’s stared at his messages between you, wondering what he could even say to fix all of this. 

He types and deletes:

> can we talk?

“Ed?” Robin approaches him in the hallway on the last day of school. “Good to know you’re alive. You doin’ alright?” Her kindness is unexpected.

“No, not really. I have to repeat my senior year.” He hands her the slip with the news on it, after finding it in the back of his notebook. 

“Shit, Eddie. That blows, I’m so sorry.” She takes the sheet from him to skim it. “They couldn’t even offer you summer classes?”

He shakes his head. “Apparently they are ‘not confident a retest would make a difference.’” He snatches the paper back, crumpling it before tossing it into his mess of a locker. “On the bright side, though, I have no reason to clean this out.” He slams the locker door before turning back to Robin. “Don’t tell Bee, okay?”

“She’s gonna find out when you’re not walking at graduation. Or Chris will be the one to tell her, and I don’t see how that’s a better option.” 

“I’ll tell her, I just need some time. She hasn’t even looked at me since prom.”

Robin stops walking.“What happened there, by the way? She was really excited to go with you.”

He sighs, staring at his shoes. “I’m a coward. I freaked out, and I couldn’t bring myself to even explain it to her. It’s probably for the best, though. She deserves way more than I can give her.”

“Are you in love with her?”

The question startles him. “What?”

“Are you in love with Bee, Eddie?”

“I– where did that come from?”

“Well, you asked her to prom for one thing.”

“As a friend!” 

“Right, totally. You two are the most platonic people I’ve ever met. That was proven by the way she acted when you stood her up.”

“How did she… what do you mean?”

She sighs. “You can’t tell her I told you, but she was distraught. She hid it really well, but I could tell she missed you. Every time there was a slow song, and especially when they announced the court. It broke my heart to watch her mope.” 

“She’s never gonna forgive me, is she?”

She shrugs. “You won’t know until you try.” 

Eddie shakes his head, confused. “Why would she?”

“Because, dingus, she loves you. You’re her best friend. As much as I’ve been fighting for the title these last four years, you’ve earned it, until recently. She feels like she’s losing you. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, but I’m getting tired of you two tiptoeing around each other.”

It stops him, cold. He’s been distant, he knows that. Mostly because he’d been trying to suffocate the less-than-platonic feelings he’d developed for you since high school started, but also because of your own brother. He’d been swept up in Chris’s chaos, leaving no room for the relief, the calm, you’d brought to him. His eyes stung, the more he thought about it. “Now go fix it, dummy!” Robin shoves him playfully, but still hard enough to make him stumble. “You gotta go tell her something. Clean up this mess you’ve made, yeah?”

Eddie nods, backing away from her, down the hall. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Tell her to call me when she gets home!”

Eddie scoffs before turning heel and jogging down the hall, off to find you.

–

Bee:

“Can we talk?” Eddie’s voice makes you jump. 

“I have nothing to say to you, Eddie.” You’re about to leave Hawkins High for the last time, but you don’t have that sense of excitement you thought you would. You feel empty, and a little lonely.

“Okay, fine. I’ll talk, I just need you to listen to me.” If not for the break in his voice, maybe you could have resisted his begging. “Just let me explain.”

“Fine.” You turn to face him, immediately wishing you hadn’t. His eyes are wet and puffy, like he’d spent the last day of school hiding in the janitor’s closet crying. He leads you to his van, parked in the back of the senior lot, away from everyone else. He opens the back doors, making room for you to sit next to him amongst the old blankets in his trunk. 

“First, I wanna apologize. I am so goddamn sorry about prom, I know nothing I say will be enough of a reason to earn your forgiveness.” You don’t say anything, just twiddle your thumbs in your lap, waiting for him to continue. “I got told that day that I failed senior year. I’m being held back.”

That makes you look at him, your heart sinking. “What?”

“Yeah. Looks like I really am gonna get stuck in Hawkins.”

You shake your head. “No, you won’t. You’ll be okay, Eddie.”

“Not without you, I won’t be. You’re goin’ to New York, right? So I’ve got, like, three months left before you forget about my existence?” He sounds so broken when he speaks, each word a stab to your heart. “And I guess maybe that’s another reason, subconsciously, that I bailed. That was supposed to be our last night as Hawkins High students and instead it was a reminder that I’m getting left behind.”

You twist your body towards him. “Just because I’m leaving the state doesn’t mean I’m leaving you. You are always gonna be a part of my life.”

“Even after I stood you up?” He looks at you with big, hopeful eyes. “Because I’d understand if that was a deal breaker.”

You shake your head. “It’ll take a lot more than standing me up to get rid of me. I just wish you’d called or something.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, I should have.”

You scoot closer to him, wrapping your arms around his midsection, causing him to stiffen slightly before relaxing into your touch. “You are my best friend, regardless. You’re gonna be okay. I’ll be home during the holidays, and I’ll call you to help you study. You can come out to visit me on weekends, if you want. Tons of pretty college girls and boys to make you swoon.”

Eddie chuckles sadly, wrapping his arms around you. “I love you, Bee.”

“I love you too, Ed. Let’s go home.”

—

Eddie: 

He’d meant it. In every sense of the term, he loves you. He’s not sure you’ll interpret it that way, but for now saying it feels like enough. You’re sitting next to him on the couch of his trailer, shoulder to shoulder as the TV flashes with some movie on cable. The window AC unit hums to little avail, the trailer still stuffy from the heat outside. 

He’s focused on your profile, the way your smile twitches when something funny happens on screen. You toss popcorn into your mouth absentmindedly, eyes glued to the television.

“What are you staring at, Munson?” You aren’t even looking at him. “I can feel you staring.”

“What? No I’m not!” He slaps his hands over his eyes. “Can’t see a thing!”

Your giggling makes his heart slam against his ribs. “You’re such an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot, right?”

“Obviously. My own personal, limited edition idiot.”

“One of one sold.” He moves his hands to find you looking at him now, eyes big and sparkly, he could drop dead if he looks too long. “Extremely rare.”

You blush bright red, and Eddie’s sure his own cheeks match. The next words you say are barely audible, but he’ll never forget them. “Guess I just got super lucky.” Before he can react, you plant a kiss on his cheek, and turn back to the movie like nothing happened.

Meanwhile, the feeling of your lips on his skin will be seared into his memory for the foreseeable future. 

[mammons-lover]

Fuckin' Sugar!

When I was younger, my older siblings would offer me candies and snacks so I could clean their rooms since I got very hyper and needed something to do. But when we ran out of snacks, they'd give me spoonfuls of raw sugar, lmao. And that shit had me jumping off the walls, cleaning, running around, and then crashing. I believe they would do this with Beelzebub.

Cred: @enchanthings-a for the divider

Buy Me Coffee💖

Satan stared at the list of chores stuck to the fridge like it was personally out to get him. “I’m not doing the kitchen. I did it last time.”

Ugh, same. I just did my skincare routine and there’s no way I’m risking fumes and elbow grease on my pores. Not happening.” Asmodeus said from the doorway, already filing his nails.

Satan turned to glare. “You never do the kitchen.”

“Well then, it’s your turn to keep up the streak,” Asmo said sweetly, giving him a wink.

They both stared at the disaster zone that used to be the kitchen. Crumbs. Grease. Questionable slime. Something was moving in the sink but neither addressed it.

Asmo sighed. “Too bad Beel’s not home. He’d do it if we gave him snacks.”

Satan looked at him slowly. “...Is he not home?”

Asmo blinked. “...Wait. No. He is home.”

Both of them turned in unison, eyes lighting up.

Beel was on his bed surrounded by snack wrappers, eating what looked like a meat bun stacked with marshmallows. He blinked slowly as they entered, mid-chew.

“Hey Beel,” Asmo said, voice sing-songy and suspicious. “If you wash the dishes, I’ll give you this whole box of cupcakes,” Asmo said sweetly, holding it up like a treasure chest.

Beel stared. “...All of them?”

“All twelve,” Asmo nodded.

Beel stood up immediately and marched to the kitchen without a word.

Satan and Asmo exchanged grins.

Five minutes later, Beel was scrubbing the stove with unnatural vigor. Satan dropped an entire blueberry pie on the table.

“Nice job. Do the counters too and this is yours.”

Beel didn’t even respond. Just nodded and kept scrubbing.

Asmo came back with a handful of fancy chocolates and candies. “If you clean the hallways too, I’ll throw these in.”

By the time Levi peeked into the hallway, Beel was on his knees scrubbing tile grout with the focus of a man on a mission.

Levi blinked. “…Why is Beel doing all the chores?”

“He’s working for snacks,” Satan said, arms crossed and smug.

Levi narrowed his eyes. “No way. For real?”

“Yup,” Asmo chimed. “We just gave him some desserts and now look at him go.”

Levi stared a little longer, “...Are there any snacks left?”

“Almost out,” Satan muttered.

Levi ran to the fridge, flung it open, empty. Just sauces and condiments. He checked the freezer. A single bag of peas. He turned to the cabinets. Nothing but flour, chocolate chips, and random baking supplies.

“Guys—there’s no food left.”

“Sucks for you.” Satan said smugly.

Leviathan starts going through the ingredients and pulls out a tub of frosting. “Beel! If you sweep the dining room, I’ll give you this!”

Beel was already halfway there with the broom.

Next came the chocolate chips.

Then some jelly.

They were throwing ingredients at him like bribes.

Two hours in, everything was gone. Every. Last. One.

Levi opened the fridge. “Guys... we’re out of everything.”

Satan slammed the pantry. “Nothing in here either.”

Asmo opened the cabinets, then froze. Slowly, his eyes fell on a giant glass jar sitting at the back. “I mean... we do have the sugar.”

All three were now looking at the big glass jar tucked in the back.

“No way,” Levi said. “Lucifer will kill us.”

“Just one spoon,” Satan offered. “It’s not like we’re feeding him crack.”

“That is his version of crack,” Asmo muttered, but no one listened.

The lid came off.

One spoon went in.

Ten minutes later Beel was moving like a blur.

Like a demon possessed. Like if caffeine had legs.

The living room? Spotless. The hallway? Gleaming. The ceiling? Polished. He was scrubbing walls with one hand and vacuuming with the other. Someone handed him another spoon of sugar and he immediately started cleaning under the couch cushions.

“He’s not even doing assigned chores anymore,” Asmo whispered in awe, clutching the empty sugar jar.

“He’s cleaning the doorknobs,” Levi said. “Individually.”

Satan stares like he was watching a ghost.

By the time the front door creaked open, the house was sparkling. Literally sparkling.

Mammon walked in first, mid-sentence. “I’m just saying, if anyone touched my chips again, I’m gonna—”

He froze.

Mammon slowly took off his sunglasses. “...Did we get robbed by a cleaning crew?”

Belphegor wandered in, yawning. “Is it… glowing in here?”

Lucifer walked in behind them, scanning the walls like they were booby-trapped. “...What the hell is going on?”

Every surface was gleaming. The banister reflected the chandelier. The hallway smelled like sugar and victory. Even the doorknobs looked polished.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes and walked toward the living room.

Beel was passed out cold on the couch, drooling into a pillow. Asmo was laying face-down on the rug. Satan had his back against the wall, looking dazed. Levi was curled up next to the entertainment system with a bruise on his forehead.

Lucifer blinked. “…What happened.”

Asmo held a finger to his lips. “Shhh… we just got him to sleep.”

Lucifer didn’t say anything. Just slowly turned and walked toward the kitchen. That’s when they heard it.

“WHERE THE HELL IS ALL THE FOOD?!” Mammon screamed.

Lucifer stormed back in.

Levi, Satan, and Asmo all looked at each other and shrugged.

Lucifer gave them a long, murderous stare.

No one moved.

Lucifer stared, fuming. “Explain. Now.”

Satan pointed at Beel. “We... may have fed him sugar.”

“A lot of sugar,” Levi added.

“...Like... half the jar,” Asmo admitted, wincing.

“Well…the whole jar.” Satan added.

Lucifer didn’t speak. His eye twitched.

One second passed.

Two.

Then—

“YOU GAVE HIM FUCKING SUGAR?!”

This basically sums up my early childhood—being the youngest meant I was the designated sugar-powered cleaner. Honestly surprised I don’t have ten cavities and a permanent twitch, lmao.

Mini life update (if anyone cares): I did good in my classes (yay me), but now I’m trying to transfer schools and it’s lowkey a nightmare. I wanna go fully online, but apparently that costs a kidney, a chunk of soul, and possibly a loan (Noooooo). I thought it’d be cheaper since I’m using my own devices and buying my own supplies but nope, it turns out online school is just bougie homeschooling.

Fingers crossed someone gives me a full ride. Anywayyyy bye bye nowwwww 🫶✨

[lvrsturniolo]

“a boy two boys who are jacked and kind..”

‘Slim Pickins’

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws 💓

It was one of those random afternoons where you, Matt, and Chris were just hanging out at their house(Nick had just gotten back from a space camp meeting and was taking a nap),scrolling through TikTok and tossing around ideas for what to do. Chris was laying sprawled across the couch, scrolling through his For You Page, while Matt sat at the table pretending to be interested in something on his phone. You were sitting on the floor, back against the couch, doing the same thing until Chris suddenly sat up.

“Yo, have you two seen that one TikTok trend to the Sabrina carpenter song?,” he said, grinning like he just had the best idea ever.

“The Juno pose one? Cause I’m not doing that if that’s what you’re thinking of.”

The boy giggled softly. “No, no. It’s the one to- I think the songs called slim pickins?”

You squinted at him. “What’s that?”

He flipped his phone around to show a video of some dude lifting his girlfriend onto his shoulder.

“Absolutely not,” Matt muttered from across the room without even looking up.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start. It’s not like you’d be the only one lifting her. We’d do it together. Team effort.”

You laughed, looking between them. “You seriously think both of you could pull that off? You’re barely strong enough to pick me up in general, let alone on your shoulder.”

Chris was already hyped. “Nah, we got this, it’ll be both of us together;piece of cake! We’re stronger than we look, right Matt?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself.

“C’mon,” Chris said, nudging you. “You in? It’ll be funny. Worst case, we drop you and it’s great content.

“Worst case, I break a bone and you’re paying my hospital bill,” you shot back, but honestly, it sounded kind of fun.

Chris clapped his hands together, leaning down and kissing you softly on your forehead. “Thank you baby, it’ll be fun I promise.”

It took another ten minutes of you and Chris trying to convince Matt, but when he saw you giving him those eyes. The begging eyes,he finally caved. “Fine, but if this goes south, m’blaming both of you,” Matt grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris said, dragging you both to the center of the living room where there was more space. “Alright, so here’s the plan. You get in the middle, we both squat down, and then we lift you up. Easy.”

“Easy for you to say,” Matt muttered, shaking his head but moving into position anyway.

The first attempt was a disaster. You couldn’t stop laughing long enough to actually get steady, and Matt kept losing his grip.

“Bro, hold her fuckin legs higher!” Chris yelled, adjusting his grip on your thigh.

“I’m trying! She keeps moving!” Matt shot back, struggling to keep his balance.

“Guys, I swear if you drop me—” you started, but you were laughing too hard to finish the sentence.

By the third try, you were all red-faced and wheezing from laughing so much. Finally, Chris and Matt managed to get you up on their shoulders at the same time, and you threw your arms out like you were on top of the world.

“WE DID IT!” Chris yelled, spinning in a circle while still holding you up.

Matt looked up at you, smirking despite himself. “Not bad, huh?”

“Alright, alright, you proved me wrong,” you said, laughing and holding onto their heads for balance.

You all stood there for a second, just laughing like idiots and feeling way too proud of yourselves. It wasn’t perfect, but it was your kind of perfect.

“Alright, one more time for the TikTok,” Chris said, already setting up his phone.

Matt groaned. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! Why weren’t we filming before?”

“Come on, Matt,” you teased. “For the content!”

And honestly? It was worth every awkward, giggly attempt.

Mel speaks~I know this is shit but I tried 😋😋 I loveeeee Chratt so much

[slut4smokemoore09]

Poison Ivy Chapter 2 "Costa Rica"

Ivy pushed her suitcase into the guest room, the familiar walls of her mom’s house wrapping around her like a bittersweet hug. The faded wallpaper, the framed photos of her as a kid, her mom’s ever-present scent of cinnamon and vanilla—all grounded her in ways she hadn’t felt in years.

“Girl, you’re home for a minute, at least,” her mom said, drying dishes in the kitchen. “We’ll help you get settled till you find your own spot.”

Ivy nodded, dropping onto the bed. The past few days felt like a whirlwind, and now she could finally breathe—or at least try.

Later that evening, after dinner, her mom sat across from her, eyes soft but probing.

“So, Ivy... I saw you and Michael talkin’ at the party.”

Ivy’s fork paused mid-air.

“Yeah?” she said coolly.

“Baby, you know I’m just sayin’—he’s your best friend. I know y’all had some rough years, but maybe...” Her voice softened. “Maybe y’all gon’ find your way back.”

Ivy laughed, a little bitter.

“Mom, he left. Like he just vanished. And you saw how I was with him tonight. I don’t even know if I want it to go back to ‘how it was.’”

Her mom reached over, squeezing her hand.

“I know it hurt you. It hurt him too, I promise. Sometimes people get caught up in things, and it ain’t easy to say sorry right away. But Michael... he’s been through some stuff.”

A few days later, Michael’s mom, Donna, stopped by with a basket of homemade cookies.

“Hey, Ivy,” Donna said, voice gentle. “Your mama told me you’re settling in.”

Ivy nodded, eyes cautious.

Donna sat down, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Listen, I know you and Michael got some history. And maybe some hurt. But your moms been talking, and we think maybe it’s time for both families to take a break—to celebrate Ivy’s big accomplishment—and just get away.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow.

“Where you thinking?”

Donna smiled. “Costa Rica. Sun, beach, fresh air. We all could use some time to breathe.”

Back at Michael’s place, he paced, phone in hand, scrolling through travel options. The thought of a family vacation made his chest tighten, but it was also a chance—a chance to be near Ivy without the weight of the city pressing down on him.

Michael had been avoiding more than just texts and calls.

He’d been battling his own demons.

The pressure of Hollywood, the new responsibilities as director of Creed 3, and the fresh project with Ryan Coogler on The Sinners had taken a toll. Behind the scenes, anxiety and depression had crept in like shadows, and he hadn’t known how to say it—not even to Ivy.

But this trip? This could be the moment.

A way to finally explain. To reconnect.

To maybe, just maybe, find their way back.

The future was uncertain, but the sun-soaked beaches of Costa Rica promised a fresh start.

And Michael was determined not to let this chance slip away.

Michael stood at the top of the stairs, heart hammering in his chest. He’d already talked to Ivy’s mama downstairs—awkward, quiet, tense. She didn’t say much, just gave him a look that said, "Don’t make things worse."

Now he was at Ivy’s bedroom door. It was cracked open. He stepped in slow.

She was sittin’ on her bed, legs crossed, oversized tee slid off one shoulder, phone in hand. Her suitcase was open, bikinis and sandals all over the place.

Michael cleared his throat, easing onto the edge of the bed. “You uh... you packin’ like ten bikinis for one trip?”

She didn’t look up. “Why you here Mike? What you want wit me?”

“Ivy…” He tried to keep his tone light, “Just stoppin’ by. See how you was doin’. Figured you might wanna talk.”

She scoffed, setting her phone down. “Talk? Now? You got the nerve to come up in here and make small talk like we cool?”

Michael sighed, “Nah, I just... I ain’t know how to start.”

She looked at him sharp. “Start with why the fuck you here.”

He licked his lips, leaned forward. “Because I been carryin’ this shit for too long. The guilt, the silence, the space. I was scared. My life, my mental health—it was a fuckin’ disaster. I didn’t wanna drag you into that.”

Ivy’s voice cracked with fury. “Bullshit. You left me. Left me to cry alone. You don’t disappear on people you love.”

“I do love you,” he shot back, eyes glinting. “I loved you since we was kids. But you never let me.”

“Don’t put that on me.”

“It’s the truth! Even back then, you’d pull away when shit got too real. You never let me love you.”

“Because love ain’t safe!” she screamed. “It’s never been safe for me. My daddy cheated. Beat my mama. My mama stayed and told me that’s what bein’ strong looked like. So yeah, I run from love. ‘Cause I only seen it destroy women like me.”

Michael’s voice softened. “That’s not love, Ivy.”

She stood up, eyes wild, chest rising fast. “Don’t act like you know everything about me. You don’t know what it’s like wakin’ up every day feelin’ like a fuckin’ burden.”

“I do,” he said quietly. “I tried to kill myself. Twice. First time after that press tour—remember when I went ghost for a month? I wasn’t in New York. I was in a hospital. Second time… was after I saw you post that birthday pic, all happy without me. I figured you was better off.”

Ivy’s eyes filled, her voice a whisper. “I tried too. After you left. I thought I was unlovable. Broken beyond fixin’.”

He stood, walked to her slowly. “You’re not. You are lovable. But you gotta let yourself be.”

She stared at him, trembling, breath catching.

He stepped closer. “You’ve been pushin’ people away your whole life ‘cause deep down, you think love equals pain. You think lettin’ somebody in means settlin’ like your mama did. That it means losin’ yourself like she did. But it don’t gotta be like that.”

“Shut up,” Ivy warned, voice shaking. “Just shut up.”

“You need to be honest with yourself—”

“SHUT UP!” she screamed, and without thinking, her hand flew. She slapped him hard across the face.

Michael didn’t flinch. His head turned slightly with the force, but he stood still, eyes locked on hers, face stinging but unshaken.

Her chest heaved, fury and pain bubbling over. “You don’t get to say that to me! You don’t get to stand there and pretend like you understand every fuckin’ reason I built these walls!”

“I don’t have to pretend,” he said, voice raw. “I lived behind them too. But I climbed out. And I wanted you there with me. Always did.”

She broke down then, voice cracking through the sobs. “I’m scared, Mike. I’m scared to be loved. Scared I’ll lose myself. Scared it’ll hurt worse than bein’ alone.”

Michael reached for her again, slow and gentle. “I know. But you’re not alone. You never were. Even when you thought I left, I never stopped lovin’ you. Not for a second.”

Her knees buckled and she collapsed into his chest, sobbing hard. She beat on him with her fists, not to hurt him but to let the pain out, to expel years of buried fear and grief.

“I hate it when you cry,” he whispered, arms tight around her, face buried in her hair. “I hate that I’m part of why you cry.”

They stood there for a long time, tangled in silence and tears, both finally letting go.

When she’d calmed, breathing heavy and eyes puffy, Michael looked over at her suitcase.

He wiped her cheeks gently, a weak smile forming. “So… all these tiny-ass bikinis? You packin’ to cause a riot or just tryna remind the whole damn resort who the baddest is?”

She let out a watery laugh, sniffling. “Gotta do what I gotta do.”

But the truth hung in the air, thick and unfinished. They weren’t friends again. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But something broke open between them—and maybe, just maybe, that was a start.

[ares-shithole-writing-blog]

XMen Older Brother HCs

Scott, Kurt, Gambit, Kevin (Morph), Mortimer, Todd, Pietro, Piotr, Warren, Beast, and Prof. X.

Scott Summers

We all know this man is the most overprotective older brother ever.

Like, you have a bad day at school, he's taking you to a movie to make you feel better.

If any teacher/student hassles you for something, he's getting Ororo, Logan and Jean to pull up and help him fuckin' go off on the principal/parents.

And afterwards he's taking you wherever you want for dinner and letting you stay up super late and will let you skip school the next morning.

Remy LeBeau

He's a self proclaimed disaster but is doing his best for you.

He deffo has French nicknames for you.

He's literally fistfought kids who bullied you to make you feel better. Much to Rogue's dismay when she has to bail you two out of jail.

He's always making food for you. Always. Hungry? There's warm jambalaya on the stove. Cajun shrimp in the fridge. Gumbo too if you want it. He loves cooking for his little sibling. It makes him nostalgic.

When you have a particularly bad day at school, he'll get a bottle of wine from the fridge and pour you a (very small) glass and let you drink it and he'll put on your comfort show/film/youtuber and watch it with you.

Kurt Wagner

He takes you to church every Sunday.

Now don't be angry; he's found an accepting church that supports the LGBTQ+ community and does discuss world issues.

He even lets you step out to take a breather during services if you feel uncomfortable.

Afterward he takes you to lunch with some of his church friends and you guys pray about whatever issue was discussed in church that week.

He likes to volunteer at the church. He goes to bible study and is a camp counselor for church camp. These he doesn't make you help with, but when you do, he's really happy about it.

He has German nicknames for you.

Kevin Sydney

They are trying their darndest.

They try their best to make you breakfast in the morning. They make pancakes, waffles, eggs, french toast, sausage...

Without fail, the bacon always ends up burnt. It gets to the point they ask you to make the bacon so they don't ruin it.

They're really lenient about eating where you want in the house. Do you wanna eat in your room? Sure! On the couch, watching tv? Go ahead! On the roof??? I don't know why you're asking but sure!

They ask you for advice about Logan really often. Sometimes they also do the dumb thing where they practice asking Logan out on you.

Mortimer Toynbee

tbh idk much abt him

He found you as an abandoned baby and took you in.

The second he brought you back to the Brotherhood base, Blob and Avalanche were fawning over you.

Mortimer was very insistent he could take care of you on his own, and he managed to pretty well.

Except for that one time he misplaced you.

By that i mean; you started walking and he set you down for a minute when Magneto called him for something and then when he came back you were gone.

When he found you, he was relieved/kinda terrified to find you napping on Juggernaut.

He had to beg for Juggs to give you back.

Juggs relented on the condition he got to be your uncle.

Todd Tolansky

He felt absolutely horrible when you guys became homeless.

He begged, borrowed and stole for you to be able to eat and stuff.

He got used to having to steal from big box stores like Walmart and Target to clothe you.

He was very distrustful of other homeless folk and shelter workers. He never let them even see you. Whenever he went to go barter/get things from shelters, he'd leave you in a particular spot in an alleyway between two dumpsters. He told you to stay until he came back. He always came back.

When Mystique found you one of the days just as he returned, he nearly fistfought her.

He doesn't trust the Brotherhood members around you - especially not Mystique. He's almost relieved when you befriend that stupid Summers boy. Almost.

Pietro Maximoff

Bro ignores you alot of the time.

But when he doesn't he picks on you.

One time he put your white clothes in with Wanda's red clothes and laughed when they turned pink.

Then Wanda made him buy you guys new clothes. He has no regrets.

He actually cares about you though, obviously.

When you're hungry, he feeds you. You need school supplies? He's buying it for you. He swears it's because he doesn't care, but we all know he does.

Piotr Rasputin

Russian nicknames for you because baby sibling.

Will use his metal form to intimidate your bullies.

Him and Illyana coddle you so fucking much.

Traditonal russian food with family dinners. Traditonal bedtime stories.

idk much more abt him so that's it for now

Warren Worthington III

idk much about him but i gotta try

He flies you to school every morning.

No ifs, ands, or buts.

Yummy and filling breakfasts.

Expensive clothes/shoes/whatever you want.

Has threatened to sue the school whenever they don't do anything about you being bullied.

Hank McCoy

He's always working so you don't get to see him often.

When he does, though, he throws himself fully into spending time with you.

He gets you to watch Space Odyssey and falls asleep halfway through while you're super invested.

He cried when Hal died in "2010: The Year We Make Contact."

He lowkey simps for Dr. Chandra

You somehow got him a Dr. Chandra bodypillow as a gag birthday gift and he kept it.

Charles Xavier

Works with what he has to take care of you.

Uses his telepathy to find dirt on people who bully you and gives it to you to even the playing field.

Once you have a family, he lowkey puts you on the X-Men's "Protect at all costs" list.

Just a general good big brother.

[baekhyunsbestie]

Can you do how EXO members react to accidentally getting hard when their girl Best Friend sits on their lap? Like in the car or on the couch or something. 🫶🏽

HAHAHAHAHENFWELKN THE WAY THEY WOULD ALL B FIGHTING FOR THEIR LIVESSSSSS

⟢ jongin

it was his idea.

the living room was packed, bodies crammed onto the couch, sprawled across the floor—any open space instantly claimed. and that’s when your best friend, resident big-brained genius kim jongin, casually patted his thigh and said, “just sit here.”

so, you did. you plopped right down, snuggling into him as the movie started, completely unaware of the internal war he was about to have with himself.

at first, he was fine. totally fine. hands resting lightly on your waist, posture relaxed, playing it so cool.

and then you shifted. just a tiny adjustment to get comfortable, but to him? catastrophic. his whole body stiffened. his hands twitched against your sides before gripping your hips—too tightly.

“don’t move,” he muttered, voice low, tight.

“huh?” you turned slightly to glance at him, and that was mistake number two.

because now you were looking at him, your face way too close, and he was fighting for his life.

“just—” he cleared his throat, staring at the screen, trying so hard to focus on the movie. “just watch.”

but then you adjusted again.

and that’s when disaster struck.

his fingers dug into your waist. his jaw locked. his breathing stalled. his brain was screaming, begging, for his body to behave—but nope. betrayal.

and then—you felt it.

you froze.

he froze harder.

the movie played on, people laughed at something on-screen, but neither of you were paying attention anymore.

“jongin,” you whispered, your voice full of realization.

he squeezed his eyes shut. “please.”

you bit your lip, trying to hold back laughter. “is that—”

“please, for the love of god, shut up.”

your shoulders started shaking, and he could feel your amusement radiating off you.

“sooo… you still want me to sit here?” you teased.

he let out the most suffering sigh, arms dropping limp around you. “i hate my life.”

“i mean, we could make it worse—”

“get off me right now.”

but the room was too crowded, and moving would definitely draw attention.

so you stayed.

and he suffered.

⟢ chanyeol

this was supposed to be a normal trip.

a simple drive with friends, nothing out of the ordinary—except for the unfortunate lack of seats. the car was packed, everyone squeezed together, and you were left standing outside, debating where to sit.

your bestie, chanyeol, being the ever-so-helpful idiot that he was, grinned and patted his thigh.

“just sit on my lap. we’ll be fine.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t think much of it. you’d sat on his lap before, no big deal. so, without hesitation, you climbed in, settling into his lap like it was nothing.

for the first few minutes, he was fine.

but then the driver hit a speed bump.

catastrophic.

you bounced. not much, but enough.

chanyeol’s breath hitched. his hands, which had been resting lazily at his sides, snapped to your waist. his fingers gripped you on instinct—too tight.

you paused.

he went completely still.

“…did you just make a noise?” you asked, turning slightly.

“uh. nope.” his voice was higher than usual.

you shifted slightly to get comfortable, and that’s when he lost it.

his hands tightened on your waist, hard. “don’t. move.”

your eyebrows raised. “what is your problem—”

“just don’t move.”

oh.

oh.

the realization hit you like a truck. and then—you felt it.

your lips curled into a slow, evil grin. “chanyeol…”

he groaned, tilting his head back against the seat. “please. don’t start.”

“so… you’re telling me i just sat here, minding my business, and you—”

“stop talking.”

you bit your lip, barely holding back laughter. “but i thought you said we’d be fine?”

“i was wrong,” he muttered, staring aggressively out the window.

so, naturally, you decided to make it worse. you shifted just slightly.

his hands clamped down on your hips so fast you gasped. “what did i just fucking say?” his voice was dangerously low.

you lost it. full-on laughing, your body shaking against him—which did not help his situation at all.

he groaned again, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “worst fucking day of my life.”

“do you want me to move?” you asked sweetly.

“where? we're in a moving car, genius.”

you grinned, leaning back against him. “guess we’re stuck like this then.”

he muttered something under his breath, something suspiciously close to “this is actual hell.”

and when the car hit another bump and he had to physically restrain himself from making a noise?

yeah, you were never letting him live this down.

⟢ sehun

it was just supposed to be a casual movie night. the living room was packed, every inch of space on the couch and floor taken, leaving you standing with nowhere to sit. sehun, ever the nonchalant best friend, didn’t even look up from his phone when he patted his thigh and mumbled, “you can sit on my lap.”

it was whatever. you had sat on his lap before—no big deal.

until, for some reason, this time? it was.

at first, he was fine. slouched against the couch, legs spread comfortably, arms draped lazily over the backrest. but then—you shifted. and his entire world collapsed.

his body went stiff. his fingers twitched against his knee. his jaw clenched so tight he thought it might lock. this wasn’t happening. except, oh god—it was.

he sucked in a slow, deep breath, forcing himself to stare at the screen like his life depended on it. he could get through this.

but then—you adjusted yourself again.

his hands snapped to your waist immediately. 

“stop,” he warned, voice so low and serious you actually paused.

you turned slightly, confused. “what?”

he didn’t respond. he couldn’t. because if he opened his mouth, he might just embarrass himself further. but then, you noticed how tense he was beneath you. the way his thighs felt like solid rock, his fingers digging into your sides like he was physically restraining himself from reacting.

and then—you felt it.

you blinked. “wait—are you—”

he cleared his throat aggressively, still refusing to look at you. “no, i’m not.”

you smirked. oh, this was gold. “so you just… randomly have a—”

“do not finish that sentence,” he gritted out.

but you? oh, you weren’t letting this go. “should i move?” you teased, shifting just slightly.

his hands gripped your waist so fast, you gasped. “i swear to god, if you move again—” his voice was dangerously low, his fingers tightening just enough to make you realize—he was losing it.

so, naturally, you did what any good best friend would do. you leaned back, biting your lip to hold in your laughter. “so… are we just sitting like this, or—”

“get off.”

before you could even react, he lifted you off himself, setting you beside him with one swift motion. his hands immediately grabbed a throw pillow, slamming it over his lap.

you just stared at him. wide-eyed. grinning. he exhaled sharply, glaring at the screen. he looked like he was re-evaluating every decision he had ever made.

you leaned in, voice dripping with amusement. “sehun…”

his head slowly turned toward you, his jaw locked, his gaze sharp. “shut. up.”

⟢ kyungsoo

it was just a simple drive with friends, heading to a late-night restaurant after hanging out. the car was packed.

“just sit on kyungsoo’s lap,” someone suggested. “it’s a short drive.”

you turned to kyungsoo, expecting him to refuse, to glare at them until they backed off. but instead, he just shrugged, giving you a short nod. “yeah, it’s fine.”

so you climbed in, settling onto his lap like it was no big deal.

except, for kyungsoo? it was a huge fucking deal.

he was fine at first. stiff, but fine. hands resting on his thighs, eyes locked straight ahead like he was focusing on something very important.

then—the driver hit the brakes a little too suddenly.

you shifted.

his jaw clenched. his fingers tensed. his entire body went rigid.

nope. nope nope nope.

he inhaled through his nose, willing it away. he just needed to stay still, stay calm, and—

another turn. another shift.

he was not okay. he froze completely, his hands hovering awkwardly before landing firmly on your waist—not to hold you, just to stop you from moving.

but you noticed. you turned your head slightly, brows furrowing. “kyungsoo, are you—”

“shut up.”

his voice was so sharp, so firm, it made you pause.

and that’s when it clicked.

the slight tension in his jaw. the death grip he had on the side of the seat. the fact that he was refusing to look at you.

“don’t wanna hear it.”

you wiggled slightly—just to mess with him.

his hands were back on your waist in an instant. “if you do that again, i’m opening the door and throwing you out.”

you lost it. you had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing out loud so the others wouldn’t be suspicious.

his head tilted back against the seat, and he exhaled so hard, his breath almost shaky. “god, why is this drive so fucking long.”

you leaned in closer, whispering, “think we got a few more turns before we’re there.”

his eyes flicked to you, dark and dead serious.

“jesus fucking christ.”

and that’s when you knew. 

this was the moment you were going to tease him about for the rest of his life.

⟢ junmyeon

oh, he’s trying so hard to keep it together. emphasis on trying.

when you settle onto his lap, he stiffens immediately, his hands awkwardly hovering like he doesn’t know where to place them. “you comfy?” he asks, ever the gentleman, voice smooth—too smooth.

you hum, shifting slightly, and that’s when disaster strikes. his breath catches. for a fraction of a second, his fingers twitch against his thighs before he clenches them into fists. his entire body has gone taut, his jaw tight, his soul leaving his body.

he wills himself to stay calm. he’s an adult. a composed, responsible, leader-like man. he is not going to react like some teenage boy who can’t handle his best friend sitting on him—except, well… he is.

“jun?” your voice is soft, teasing. too aware. “why do you look like you’re going through an existential crisis?”

“i—i don’t,” he lies immediately, clearing his throat way too hard. “i’m just... thinking.”

“thinking?” you repeat, smirking now. “about what?”

his ears turn bright red. he refuses to meet your gaze, his eyes fixed on the farthest corner of the room like it holds the secrets to the universe. “about... tax benefits,” he blurts out.

you blink. “tax benefits?”

he nods. because at this point, he has no choice but to commit to the bit.

he exhales slowly, gathering every ounce of dignity he has left. then, in the most casual, totally-not-panicked way possible, he places his hands on your waist and gently—but very purposefully—lifts you off his lap. “you should probably sit next to me,” he says smoothly.

except it’s not smooth, because the second you’re off, he subtly tugs his sweater down over his lap, crossing his legs like a flustered schoolboy.

you grin, watching him shift uncomfortably. “so... tax benefits, huh?”

he sighs, rubbing his temples. “don't...please.”

⟢ baekhyun

the moment you plop onto his lap, he’s already spiraling, but he plays it off like it���s no big deal. he smirks, resting his hands on the couch, legs spread a little too confidently—until you shift. that’s when his entire world crumbles.

his body tenses, and his smirk wavers for just a second before he recovers. “whoa, hold up—” he laughs, voice slightly strained. “if ya keep movin' like that, i might hafta start charging you for personal space.”

you pause, blinking at him. “...why do you sound weird?”

“i don’t sound weird.”

you tilt your head, squinting at him suspiciously. that’s when you notice it—the slight clench of his jaw, the way his hands suddenly aren’t resting on the couch anymore but gripping the hem of his hoodie like he’s physically restraining himself. and then, you feel it.

“oh my god.”

his eyes widen so fast. “NO. no, no, no, don’t—just—listen—" he’s scrambling, trying to come up with an excuse, any excuse, but you’re already staring at him in horror (or amusement, he can’t tell, and frankly, he doesn’t want to know).

“baekhyun.”

“you don’t understand—"

“oh, i understand.”

he groans, throwing his head back against the couch dramatically. “this is your fault,” he grumbles, arms crossed like a pouty child.

“MY fault?!”

“yes! you—you sat on me all careless and warm and—ugh, just get off before this gets worse!” he hisses, lifting you off his lap himself because there’s no way he’s letting you linger another second.

as soon as you’re off, he pulls a pillow onto his lap so fast, arms crossed over it like he’s shielding himself from embarrassment. you’re grinning now, and he can already see the teasing comments forming in your head.

he glares. “not a SINGLE fucking word.”

but you? you’re living for this.

⟢ minseok

he thinks he’s got this under control. you’re just sitting on his lap—it’s not a big deal. he’s calm, collected, completely unaffected.

…until you shift.

fuck.

his grip on his thighs tightens, his jaw clenches, and suddenly, he’s facing an actual crisis. the warmth of you, the way you settle against him—it’s too much. but minseok is a master of self-control, so he does what any composed man would do.

he stops breathing.

literally. he just holds his breath and wills his body to behave. maybe if he doesn’t move, doesn’t react, this will all go away.

except it doesn’t.

and then—you move again.

his whole body betrays him. his fingers twitch against his thighs, and he knows you felt it. he’s already preparing his exit strategy when you pause, turning slightly.

“…min?” your voice is laced with amusement, and that’s how he knows he’s doomed.

before you can say anything, he acts. his hands grip your waist firmly, and he lifts you off in one swift motion like you weigh nothing. no hesitation. no second-guessing.

“what the—” you start, landing beside him.

he clears his throat, brushing imaginary lint off his pants. “my leg was fallin’ asleep,” he lies, so effortlessly it’s almost believable—almost.

but then you see it—the way his ears are flaming red, the slight tension in his jaw, the subtle way he leans forward, forearms on his knees, like he’s casually repositioning himself.

you smirk. “your leg, huh?”

he exhales sharply through his nose. “yes.”

“so… absolutely nothing else going on?”

his jaw tightens. “not. another. word.”

you just grin. minseok might be good at keeping a poker face, but this? this is gold.

⟢ yixing

this car ride was supposed to be uneventful.

just a quick trip back home after hanging out, except the car was packed. too many people, not enough seats.

you stood there, debating your options, when yixing—sweet, unsuspecting yixing—patted his thigh.

“just sit here. the ride shouldn’t be too long,” he said, voice calm, completely oblivious to the mistake he was about to make.

you didn’t think twice about it. he was your best friend, and this wasn’t the first time you’d sat on his lap. so, without hesitation, you climbed in, adjusting yourself until you were comfortable.

yixing? oh, he was fine.

…for about thirty seconds.

then the driver hit a sharp turn, and you shifted.

and suddenly, he wasn’t fine anymore. his body went stiff. his hands, which had been resting politely at his sides, curled into fists.

his mind started racing. he tried to think of something—anything—to stop what was happening. cold showers. meditation. breathing exercises. nothing worked. his fingers twitched. his jaw tightened. he sucked in a slow breath through his nose, trying to stay calm. he could handle this.

you tilted your head slightly. “you okay?”

his eyes snapped forward, staring straight ahead like he was suddenly very interested in the road. “mhm,” he hummed. too quickly. too forced. suspicious.

so you shifted again, just to test your theory.

and that’s when you felt it.

oh.

“please don’t move.” his voice was low. strained. desperate.

you bit your lip, barely holding back your laughter. “wait—are you—?”

he cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. “no. i am not. ignore it.”

but you could feel how tense he was beneath you. how his breathing had changed. how he was gripping the seat so hard his knuckles had turned white.

“should i—” 

“if you move again, i swear i will open this door and tuck and roll.”

you burst out laughing. he did not.

“this is your fault,” he muttered, closing his eyes in suffering.

“my fault? i’m literally just sitting here.”

“exactly.”

and when the driver hit another bump and yixing physically jolted beneath you, his hands tightening on your waist like he was barely holding on? yeaaaah, you’re gonna tease him about this for awhile.

[fullofgutsndopamine]

What’re You After (Some Kind Of Disaster)

or: you and hasan are rivals for trivia night. Until one day, you come up with a plan.

tw/cursing, drinking

one of four miniseries

more hasan here

Thursday’s became your favorite day, easily.

cheap beer at your local pub, walking distance, and a chance to nerd out with your fellow classmates over a basket of too greasy fries.

everything would be perfect.

if it wasn’t for the other team.

the other team is everything you hate.

to begin with, when it’s a subject one of them know, they all have an elaborate hand shake they do, some kind of loud cheer and high fives passed around the table, clapping each other on the shoulders-

and they always looked over at your table, smaller, but crowded, elbow to elbow with your friends, poured over the piece of paper with the questions on them-

they were polar opposites, acted like this was some kind of event they stumbled into, by accident and oops became the top team.

they were cocky, and your team was determined to knock them down a few pegs.

You come in early to steal their table.

it’s petty, at the very least, but part of a strategy you and your best friend Sarah, spent the week planning. Anything to throw them off their game, to confuse them.

you walk in straighter than usual, shoulders squared, ready to proudly take the table in the corner, right by the trivia hosts stand-

and the son of the bitch is already there.

you can’t remember his name. you try to not remember your enemies name, but if you thought really hard about it, you could swear it was something with a ‘H’. Henry, maybe? No, that’s not right. it was a name you hadn’t heard before-

you get into the threshold of the door and his eyes meet yours with a smirk, sets his pen down and takes his glasses off, eyes narrow as he picks up his drink and takes a sip.

bastard.

you duck your head and walk to the normal table, about to text Sarah to abort the plan, when you slide into the seat, ready for it to be over-

“were you trying to take our table?”

you jump when you hear his voice, fumble with your phone, don’t want him to get the satisfaction of seeing your face red-

“Why would we want your stupid fuckin’ table?” you call back, not looking at him as you open a text to Sarah: “it’s not the table that’s making you win.”

he laughs, appears at your table, “That’s right. it’s skill.”

“skill is putting it generously. cheating, is the running theory-“

“You all think we’re smart enough to cheat? flattered, truly. This seat taken?” he asks, pulling out the wooden stool but not sitting.

“is-is this your fucked up way to try and psych the opposing team out?” a smirk falls on your lips and you hope it covers for the red on your face, “are you all threatened by us?”

you try to ignore the hurt evident on his face.

“Oh, just like trying to steal our table, yeah?” he pushes the stool in. “Good luck tonight, you all will need it.”

and he stalks back to his table.

okay, so you sort of feel like a dick, yes.

he seems the most reserved out of the table, like he accidentally stumbled into this group of people. sure, he shares the high fives and whatnot, but when they huddle together, the rare times they do, he always seems on the border, on the outside looking in.

you turn in your seat, ready to offer the seat up again but his glasses are back on the crook of his nose and he’s poured over a book-

luckily, the rest of your team meets up before the guilt can really eat at you, something for later tonight, when your seconds from sleep, to keep you up, is when you’ll remember this-

Annie slides in across from you.

“So,” she begins talking right away, picking up your glass of water and drinking immediately without asking. Annie talks a million miles an hour, loudly, and everyone else is simply along for the ride, “I did some research on pen names, but like, fuck, what an absolute rabbit hole that was. Did you order food yet?”

she continues talking, mostly about ordering food for the table, and your half listening as his table fills in behind you. (Was it an H on second thought? is it? wade?)

“those bastards are going down.” is the first thing Sarah says when she comes in, her book back is overflowing as usual, and she has three different pens and two pencils in the bin of her hair- “i brought my lucky charm.”

Annie groans comically, “Sarah, they already don’t take us seriously. they’re going to take us less seriously if you take your stupid fucking glass elephant out-“

“hey!” Sarah narrows her eyes, “we don’t talk bad about him. no disrespect. Here, now he’s pointing at you. Look of shame. take that in, babe.” as she turns it towards her.

“this is why they don’t take us seriously,” you groan, rubbing your forehead, “Henry or wade or whatever the fuck- saw me try and steal their table.”

“Henry?” Sarah says at the exact time as Annie says: “William?” with disgust.

their heads whip around to the other table, catch him looking at you and they duck further in their seats before turning to you: “His name is Hasan-“

“are you fraternizing with the enemy, you son of a bitch?” Annie says immediately, and her voice is loud enough you throw a used napkin at her in hopes it doesn’t draw more attention to her.

“i’m not fraternizing with anyone. keep your voice down, jesus christ.” you groan, “he just saw i tried to take the table and talked to me, briefly.”

“Spill.” Sarah says immediately, “Did he say anything that we could use against him? Did he admit to cheating?”

“The complete opposite,” you sigh, tearing at your napkin, feeling like a dick again. “He asked to sit down and i all but shooed him away. He looked like a beaten dog.”

Annie and Sarah look at each other from the corner of their eyes, a shared look with a smirk.

“what?” you groan, “i hate that look. what?”

annie and sarah both lean in at the same time, almost hitting heads with you, “listen. we have an idea, okay-“

Sarah interrupts, “and listen to the whole thing before you shoot it down.”

“Ask him out.”

You snort. it’s loud, and ugly, and if your mother was here, she’d grip her necklace and glare at you about how ladies act in public-

“Yeah!” Annie says, “Listen. Okay. you ask him out. distract the other team so he’s so lovesick or busy or whatever that he misses or the team falls apart.”

you shake your head, “y’all are out of your god damn minds-“

“Hasan!” Annie breaks from the huddle, waves him over, “cmere.”

“Annie, no. you son of a bitch-“

Hasan was drawing in his notebook, wasn’t paying much attention to his small group, narrows his eyes, but obeys, stalks over.

“If you all want a truce, i already tried to make one with this one here earlier,” he teases, jams his thumb at you. “and the answer was a loud no.”

“That’s only cause they wanted to ask you out for a drink after,” annie takes the lead, “to celebrate”

“celebrate?” Hasan smirks.

“either way it goes, a drink on us.” Annie insists.

his eyes narrow, not sold yet.

“How about this, if you win, you two get a drink together. our treat. if we win, we’ll leave you and your team alone.”

he snorts, “didn’t you win a certificate last week for longest running streak of not winning?”

“dick.” you say gently under your breath, but he doesn’t hear it.

he shakes his head, “yknow what? deal. I could always use a drink.”

and he sticks his hand in the middle of the table, annie going for the shake but he ignores it, shakes it off, ducks his head so he’s looking at you: “it’s a deal, yeah? c’mon.”

you hesitate long enough for annie and sarah to both kick your shins under the table and you sit up a little straighter, swallow all the pride you have: “it’s a deal.” as you tighten your hand around his.

he doesn’t see the smirks and shared glances the three of you share.

[officer-sebastian]

*Sebastian huffed and squeezed his way through an unexpected number of scientists and other employees through Sector E’s halls. Giving quick “excuse me’s” and “pardon me’s” as he kept rubbing shoulders with lab coats. Sebastian figured that this stretch of the Science Team must be clocking out for a late lunch, he’s never seen any sector’s halls so packed before, unless you count the highest level of top-side customer service and protection from the general and oddball public.*

Christ al’mighty Ah’m jus’ tryn’a git ta mah shift, y’know, th’shift that keeps y’all from actin’ like dogs without horses.. Clearly it ain’t helpin’ much, Jesus.

*After a few more left turns, the checkpoint position he had been assigned comes into view, another guard tapping his fingers on the desk and perking up at the sight of Sebastian.*

“Christ, Seb, what took you so fuckin’ long, eh? Was ‘bout to just clock out and leave this place hanging.”

*Sebastian just chuckled* Yeah, yeah, mighty sorry ‘bout that. Fer some damn reason th’halls were packed full of them lab rats an’ Ah could hardly git past. Go take’a piss an’ then cool off on yer lunch, Pauly, Ah got it from ‘ere.

*The guard scoffed and crossed his arms* “Whatever. Thankfully those old cronies only now just took lunch, what ever reason you’re filed under checkpoint over here, you’ll be glad to know it’s practically empty now. Have fun staring at the wall.”

Yer too kind. Ah take it ya prob’ly scared ‘em off an’-

*There was the faintest rumble between under their feet. Several lights from down the hall suddenly flicker and blow out, the emergency lights immediately turn on, painting the metallic walls an eerie red. Sebastian goes quiet at that, steadily eyeing the darkened hallway and listening close for anything suspicious.*

*Officer Pauly swallows audibly, eyes still on Sebastian* “The hell was tha-“

*BUZWARN* Warning. Power Outages Detected In [SECTOR E]. All Affected Personnel Please Be Advised.

*BUZWARN* Warning. Unauthorized Biological Forms Detected In [SECTOR E]. All Non-Disaster Response Personnel Evacuate Immediately.

*GARBLED BUZWARN* Warning. W-Warning. Security i̴̜̒̚͠n̵̢̫̞͍̍̆ ̵̢̦͈̜̏̂̑̉[̶̨̰̹̟́͛̑̓S̶̢̰̤͛̀ͅĖ̵̟̲̌Ć̴̥͍̣̞́̐T̴̯̿O̴̻̮͚̅Ṛ̵̠̟͍͒͆́̄ ̵͔̓Ḙ̷́̏͘]̷̧̪͗̎͗͋ ̵̠̝͌͜͝R̵̖̼̰̬̅̍e̴̱̔͒̌p̷̡̙̥̜̊͆õ̸̻r̴̗̤̀̽̏̇t̶̨̧̺̫͠ ̵̞̻̲͑̑́̐T̷̯̰̘̦̍̒̌ơ̴̼͔̿ ̵̘̣́[̶̖̰̓̇̓Ḁ̸͓̞̿̂̔̌D̷̞̫̣̻͗͗V̴͓̿A̸̢̻̤̘͂N̶̳̙̫̊͂C̷̜͎̆E̴̙̘͛̉̈̕D̷͙͕̜̹́͝ ̴̠͖̗͛͝ͅB̷̲̞͊̊͗Ḯ̸̘Ợ̵̩̒̏̇L̸͉̖̒̄̆̉O̵͇̅̀͘͝G̶͓͇̊̓̽Ḭ̴̦̥͕̌̌̊Ç̷̓A̴̮͉̩̋̀̀ͅL̶͎̈̆̇̚ ̸̗͕͌R̴̨̰̋̾͝È̷̺͕̏̓ͅS̴͕͆̚E̴͚̩̫̍̀̆͜͝A̷̼͋̃̍R̸̤̳͑̚C̴̩͕̼̬͠H̶̥̤̓ ̴͖̦̱̈̓͂̈͜C̶͙̿̒O̶̼̖̳̼͆M̷̠̖̬̦̽̾P̵̠͕̰̈͂̇L̸̝̀E̴̺̮̱̊̈̑͠X̵̛̗̹̂]̷͍́̃͑́ ̷̬͈̬͖̋͆Ị̸̛̩̲̦͒̅m̷̦̠͋̇̃͠m̵̖͕̙͉̿̚ë̸̬́̋͌d̴͈̹̝̀i̵̤̔̈́à̴̟͇̍̓͌t̸̲͍̦͒̽̄e̵̠̽̈́̇̈́l̶̰̍͜y̷̡̧̘̒̏̈́̈

*The two security guards listened in shocked silence as the automated comms buzzed in and out, the emergency lights flicking at the same time. Sebastian persed his lips in a straight line, taking a deep breath and suddenly pushing Pauly into the checkpoint box*

“THE HELL ARE YOU-?!” *The guard began to shout in protest, before Sebastian tossed him inside and shut the door. Pauly gets up immediately, pounding on the glass* “OI ASSHOLE! The fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

*Sebastian snapped his fingers and put one up to his lips* Quiet. Ah’m goin’ ta check it out. It ain’t lookin’ good on our department if they go an’ lose two men on th’job. Ya sit tight an’ wait it out fer me, ‘kay?

*The guard sputtered a few times at that response, gesturing his hands wildly before sighing and giving up any retort, having known Sebastian long enough to know arguing with him like this is fruitless* “If you go and get yourself killed I won’t be there for whatever shoddy funeral they give you. It’ll be all your fault down to the grave, Seb.”

Thank ya, kindly, Pauly. How ‘bout we go an’ git’a beer with th’boys if Ah make back it in at least 3/4s? Ah’ll make a’bet with ya. *Sebastian clicks off the safety of his pistol and checks the magazine while he talks*

“Wh- Pfft, fucksake, Sebastian. Fine, whatever, I’ll bet. Quit wasting time.”

*Sebastian nods and runs down the hallway, making a salute with his pistol before turning around completely*