#maybe you can feel the frantic energy through the lines

[teeth-draws]

I’m ashamed at the difference in art style Liefred anyone would think you’re my favourite /// @shepherds-of-haven

Ohhh but he used to think nothing of it…

Torturing my fav RO again from @shepherds-of-haven

[monzamash]

easy to please lando norris x you rating – mature (sexual themes, coarse language) blurb for ✨monzamusings✨

thinking about u, the text read. above it, there was a photo – dark, a little bit blurry, possibly a figment of your weary imagination. a hand pressing down on black cotton, tanned and veiny – a hand you immediately recognised. fingers too, gripping the thin material and an outline that had you sitting up in bed, lazy smile slipping across your flushed cheeks as the picture came into focus. lip bitten. baby, was all you sent in reply. your eyelids fluttered shut momentarily, loosing the battle to sleep until you felt your phone buzzing, resting in your slack hand. they were coming thick and fast and bringing you back into the present. your fingers tingled from the sensation when you held it up and nearly dropped the bright screen on your squinting forehead. don’t baby me i miss u can i call please???? winky face emoji.

you sighed sharply into the plush pillow beside your head, wondering whether or not you had the energy for it. the appetite was always there. hell – all you could think about was him; even in the mundane moments, he was everywhere you looked – your work, your friends, the cheesy rom com that made you cry before wrapping yourself up in a blanket and falling asleep. you missed him. the back and forth, the will they won’t they bullshit nearly sending you into a spiral of complete and utter confusion. the future was uncertain; the distance between where you were and wherever he was in the world unbearable but what you did know was that you loved him, missed him. and he was yours.

heartbreakingly so. alright romeo but make it quick always am hehe. dickhead.

the phone call connected after one, maybe half a ring – there was no pretence anymore with you and lando. this was routine now, the late night calls across oceans, and it was always the same. whispered, i miss you's and i love you's, strangled moans, hands frantically chasing the high of what you knew felt like heaven together, by whatever means necessary, the best dirty talk you could ever imagine, barely tiding you over until you could be close enough to feel each other again.

“hi pretty girl.”

“hi boyfriend”

“ugh, i love it when you call me that. say it again…”

and you did, over and over until the late night giggles took hold and lando couldn’t breathe – the goofy smile scrunching the corners of his dry eyes, fatigue and exhaustion lingering in his hoarse voice.

“you should be sleeping.”

“i would be if you were here,” he stated matter of fact, not even a blinking, “i think i got used to having you with me over winter break… spoiled me too much and now i'm ruined for life.”

“so dramatic.”

“i’m being so real,” he yawned and by the soft grumble on the other end, he was definitely stretching out his sore, weary muscles like cat. there was a beat and a click of the tongue before lando spoke again, the ominous silence already making your eyes playfully roll.

“so… what are you wearing right now?”

“unbelievable…”

“you cant blame a man for asking, especially in my hour of need… show me pleeeeease” lando whined, toothy smile no doubt lining his chapped lips.

“what if I’m not wearing anything?” you taunted, snapping a quick photo and sending it through without a second thought.

lando quickly peaked, side-eyeing the screen sneakily and sighed when he realised you were pulling his chain, “i'm wearing some shirt you left behind because it’s hotter than satan's asshole here in london at the moment.”

he groaned more to himself than to you, eyes scanning your curves under the thin material, fixated on how unconstricted you were under the shirt he recognised, breasts pert. lando was restless and you really did deserve more than the desperado ‘what are you wearing’ pick up line but god, he wanted to know, no, he needed to know because if he didn't find out, he feared he may never recover.

after all, it was you that had him sick in love. and perpetually horny.

“think i might like you in my clothes more than naked…"

“you’re a sicko.”

“mmm you make me like this… and no bra, like are you trying to kill me?”

“always.”

you cupped your chest over his shirt and took another photo, teasing the gorgeous man waiting for your every move with bated breath. he’d sucked in his bottom lip, you could hear by how shallow his breathing had become, reminiscent of a panting dog – the sound alone quickened your heart rate. the image of him sitting in a hotel room alone, hand pressed to his aching cock thinking about you, parched to the point of a sleepless night was dizzying.

and it was easy with lando, the familiarity of his voice and the rhythm you effortlessly fell into. all remnants of consciousness melted away with him.

“wish i was there with you baby,” he whispered and you nodded, smiling, even though he couldn’t see how happy it made you to hear him say it.

“me too,” you sighed, relaxing into the stillness until your loud, obnoxious doorbell shook you from the peaceful silence.

“fuck!” you cursed, frozen in place.

“what?” 

“someones at the door…”

“what time is it there?”

“like 11pm… should i ignore it?” you were already grabbing the cardigan you'd thrown over the end of your bed and halfway to the door, curiosity winning out.

“nah, nah. you’re on the phone with me – answer it,” he encouraged, “i wanna make sure it isn’t your side piece coming ‘round when i’m not there.”

“ha-ha, actually my other boyfriend is already here, i've been trying to get you off the phone this whole time...”

"hmm, lucky cunt." he mumbled.

lando made you brave, stupidly brave so you swung the door open without hesitation, locked and loaded with a line of interrogating questions for the person interrupting the precious time you had with the man you love.

but you were hearing double as you held the phone to your ear and looked up – you knew that mess of frazzled curls and tired eyes anywhere, peering back with a smile the size of the moon curling at the corners of his lips. he was bundled up in a hoodie, one you knew would feel warm to the touch and smelled like him.

you had to be dreaming.

“better go tell your other boyfriend to pack his shit and get the fuck out of our house.”

“lando…” tears welled in your eyes as you lunged into his open arms.

“hi pretty girl…” he chuckled, picking you up without hesitation and hooked your legs around his waist, carrying you over the threshold.

“why didn’t you say you were coming home?”

“surprises are sexy, no?” he asked, voice deliciously low. he knew your answer.

“very sexy.” you moaned and pressed firm, fiery kisses into his strong neck, “you’re so sexy – all of this is sexy… god, i love you.”

“love you too sweetheart – let’s go to bed.”

“to sleep?” you asked, with doe-eyes and a devilish grin.

“yeah, i flew eleven fuckin' hours to just sleep… oh and by the way," lando narrowed his eyes and pointed to the crinkled shirt hanging from your shoulders, you looked a mess.

"i want my shirt back right now.”

you hummed and twirled down the hallway, “you’re gonna have to pry it off my cold, horny body, norris…”

“mission accepted,” lando confidently stated, chest puffed as he started stripping his hoodie from his body and inched closer and closer to where you were stood and all you could do was admire the gorgeous man stalking towards you.

oh, and blink a few times to make sure you definitely weren't dreaming, "i can't believe you were sexting me in the back of a cab."

“i know," he chuckled, "it was getting a bit much by the end there, so i walked the last couple of blocks to calm myself down."

you couldn't suppress the moan building in your throat at his touch and his confession – your mind was running wild, "that's so hot."

"you are." he quipped, hands slowly tracing your sides and cupping your chest in his warm palms.

"this is way better than phone sex.”

lando shrugged as you ran your hands down his toned stomach, thumbs circling the indents just above his hips, “i’ll take anything with you – it’s all good to me.”

“you’re easy to please.”

“well, you make it easy – god, look at you,” he exhaled, brushing the loose strands of hair from your face and all you could do was smile.

“i’m glad you’re home, ya goof. it doesn't feel right without you here."

“me too, baby. meee too.” lando smiled and planted a longing kiss to your pouty lips.

more writing...

bit of backstory with this blurb; it was originally going to be a follow up to another fic i wrote called lost in japan and then got buried in the wip graveyard. somehow it resurfaced in my doc folder right when i needed it and i feel like it still kinda fits in the lost in japan universe - selfishly i love those characters. anyways, i hope you enjoyed it 💋

[kinascum]

PICKUP - DAD!M. STURNIOLO

SUMMARY. when a stressed-out, sleep-deprived and chaotic SingleDad!Matt falls in love with his son’s kindergarten teacher.

CONTENT. no major warnings

WC. 1.3k

proofread by @baileysturns

You wait as the hours ticked by, the soft hum of the kindergarten classroom lulling you into a gentle rhythm. The children have long been picked up, their laughter echoing through the hallways replaced by the quiet buzz of teachers finishing up their duties. Then, you hear the distant sound of rubber soles slapping against the linoleum floor, approaching at a brisk pace. The door bursts open and in strides Mr Sturniolo, his eyes scanning the room frantically before they lock onto yours. His son, Tommy, who's a tiny bundle of energy, squirms in your arms as he calls out, "Daddy!"

Matt's cheeks are flushed with exertion, his tie askew, and his hair sticking up in every direction. You can see the lines of stress etched into his forehead, but when he sees you, his face relaxes into a relieved smile. "Thank you so much," he says, his voice a little too loud in the quiet room. "I had a meeting that ran over, and traffic was..." He trails off, shaking his head. You understand; the world of a single dad is often one of unpredictability and juggling responsibilities.

You hand over Tommy, who clings to your neck for a moment before launching himself into his dad's arms. "It's no problem," you reply with a smile. "We had a great time, didn't we?" The little boy nods enthusiastically, his eyes shining with excitement.

As they leave, you watch them go in a hurry, the chaos of the day seeming to dissipate around them. The hallways are empty, the lights flickering in the descending twilight. You pack up your things and head home, feeling a twinge of loneliness as the school falls silent around you. It's not every day you meet a parent who seems so genuinely thankful for your work.

-

The next morning, you're setting up the classroom when you see Matt standing in the doorway, Tomas tugging at his hand. He holds out a small box of chocolates to you, his eyes earnest. "I wanted to apologize again for yesterday," he says. "And thank you for keeping an eye on him. I know it's not part of your job, but..." His voice is gruff, and you can tell he's not used to being vulnerable. You take the chocolates, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. "It's okay," you reassure him. "It's what we're here for." He nods, his expression a mix of gratitude and something else. Something that makes your heart skip a beat.

As the days turn into weeks, you find yourself looking forward to the moments when you see Matt. His mornings are still hectic, but he always has a smile for you, and he makes a point to thank you every time he picks up his son. The two of you start to chat, sharing stories about the little one's antics and the challenges of single parenthood. You learn that he's a dedicated father, working long hours to provide for his child, and you can't help but admire his determination.

One afternoon, after the last child has been picked up, you're organizing the bookshelf when you hear a knock on the door. You turn to find Matt, Tommy nowhere in sight. "Could I speak with you for a moment?" he asks, his eyes searching yours. You nod, curious.

He steps into the room, closing the door behind him. "I know this is probably weird," he starts, "but I just wanted to say... I really appreciate what you do. For him, and for me." He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that somehow makes him even more endearing. "I don't know how I'd manage without people like you." He pauses, and you can see the weight of his words hanging in the air. "And I was wondering if maybe, when you're not busy, we could grab a coffee or something. Just to say thanks. Properly."

You're taken aback by the invitation, but the warmth in his eyes makes it difficult to refuse. "I'd like that," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "How about tomorrow after work?" He grins, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing. "It's a date," he says, and you can't help but blush at the term.

The next day seems to drag on forever, with every tick of the clock bringing you closer to the promised coffee. You're acutely aware of Matt's presence when he arrives to pick up his son, your heart racing every time you catch a glimpse of him. When the time finally comes, you grab your bag and walk with him to the small café across the street.

As you sit down, the café's warm lights reflecting off the polished wooden surfaces, you feel a mix of nerves and excitement. You've never done anything like this before, especially with a parent from your class. But something about Matt is different. He's not like the other dads who hover awkwardly or only engage in small talk. There's a depth to him, a raw honesty that draws you in.

The conversation starts off tentatively, with both of you sticking to safe topics like work and the school. But as the minutes stretch into an hour, you find yourselves delving deeper. He tells you about his life as a single dad, the struggles and the joys, and you open up about your passion for teaching and your hopes for the future. His laugh is contagious, and you find yourself smiling more than you have in a long time.

Then, in the middle of a story about his son's latest attempt at art, he looks at you with a glint in his eye and says, "So, tell me more about you, Y/N." You blush, surprised by his directness. It's clear he's trying to flirt, but you're his son's teacher, and there's a line you can't cross. You laugh it off, keeping the conversation light and professional.

The evening stretches on, the café slowly filling with the scent of freshly ground coffee beans and the murmur of other patrons. You both find yourself getting lost in conversation, sharing stories about your pasts and your hopes for the future. His son is a common thread, weaving through every topic, a reminder of the bond you share beyond the classroom.

As you sip on your now-cold coffee, you feel a pang of something unfamiliar. It's easy to be drawn to Matt's charm and the way he talks about his son with such love, but you know that this isn't just a casual chat between friends. You're his son's teacher, and there are boundaries that need to be respected. But the way he looks at you, with genuine interest and a hint of admiration, makes it hard to remember why this isn't a good idea.

Finally, you decide to address the elephant in the room. "Matt," you say firmly, setting down your cup. "I really appreciate the gesture, and I've enjoyed our time together, but I think we should keep things professional. I care about your son, and I don't want anything to jeopardize that relationship." He nods, understanding in his eyes. "You're right," he says with a sigh. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

The walk back to the kindergarten is a little awkward, the air thick with unspoken feelings. When you reach the door, he takes a step closer, his hand brushing yours. "Thank you," he says, his voice low. "For everything. And I'm sorry if I overstepped."

You smile, feeling a rush of affection for this man who's doing his best in a tough situation. "It's okay," you reply. "We're good." With a final nod, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with a jumble of emotions.

That night, as you lay in bed, you can't help but think about Matt. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about his son, the way his hand felt against yours. You know that you can't let this go further, but you also know that you're going to look forward to seeing him in the mornings, even if it's just for a brief exchange about homework and school events. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough for now.

tags! @christophersgf @rainuhh @mattandchrismakemewett @gxldenlush @immattsslut @slut4chriss @stasiesturn @jetaimevous @solarsturniolo @watercolorskyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @meowira @secretagentspy @shadowthesim @baileysturns

[daydreamingqueen1]

spencer gifting reader w lingerie for the first time and being all flustered giving it to her???

Lingerie

hi, love, thank you so much for the request, sorry it took so longg <3 Congrats on being my first request btw

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, suggestive, reader in her underwear, nothing explicit, no y/n.

Word count: 1.3k

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"It's creepy right? Who does this? Why did I buy it?!"

Spencer had been home for about fifteen minutes before he went and hid inside the bedroom. It took you another twenty before you ventured into the hallway quietly and heard him talking to himself in progressively more panicked whispers.

This was not normal but maybe it had been a bad case. However, when that happened, he was usually inclined to cling to you in silence until everything felt a bit less, not hide away.

This is not it.

"God, I'm a pervert!"

Okay, that's enough. You need to intervene. You give a few overtly loud steps to warn him of your presence.

Spencer is pacing the room back and forth, a black bag in his hand. He flies to hide the bag behind his back the moment you walk in, a blush spreading through his cheeks.

"Spencer? What's going on?" You ask cautiously.

He gives you a reassuring smile, a poor attempt at one at least, "Nothing! Nothing, everything is completely fine."

You arch your eyebrow, "Really?"

Spencer presses his lips together in a line and nods way too quickly.

You sigh, torn between amusement and slight concern, "You know you are the profiler of the two of us, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Then you shouldn't be this bad at hiding something, Spencer." Your deadpan look only manages to turn him redder.

Staring back at you guiltily, he gulps. "I– I'm sorry, sweetheart."

You give a few tentative steps closer to him, your expression turning more worried by the second, "What's wrong, Spence? Did something happen?"

He's quick to shake his head and reassure you, "No, no, nothing like that, everyone's fine."

You exhale a relieved breath.

"It's just... silly." Spencer finishes, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

Closing the distance between you two, your hand comes to rest over his chest, "It's okay, you deal with my silly all the time," you give him a small encouraging smile, "What does the pretty doctor have in between hands?"

"I–" he hesitates again before sighing and mumbling like a child, "I bought you something."

"Oh?" you truly didn't expect that answer, surprise flooding your features, "Why are you so flustered then? Can I see it?"

The crimson color returns to his cheek and you think he's a second away from bolting out from the room. He hangs his head in defeat and finally relents, revealing the mysterious black bag from behind his back.

Giving him a quizzical look, you take it in your hands. You're almost apprehensive as you pull out the silk paper from the top and discover a small nondescript box inside. The cardboard feels expensive against your hands, you shoot your nervous boyfriend another glance before finally opening it.

"Oh."

Silence fills the room for the next few seconds. You're about to open your mouth when—

"I'm sorry!" Spencer's nervous energy snaps and he starts babbling out an apology, "You don't have to wear it. I shouldn't have bought it without asking you first. I– I can't return it but we can just toss it and forget about it. I'm sorry, really, please don't think that I'm a creep."

You can't help it, you laugh at his frantic response, "Calm down, Spencer, you're not a creep. I love it."

Spencer seems about to go off into another lengthy apology before your words register on his brain.

"...What?"

"I love it." You smile genuinely at him before looking down at the contents of the box. Inside rests a set of lovely purple lace lingerie. Your hand reaches for the material and your smile widens even more at the luxurious feel of the fabric.

You launch yourself to hug him, "Thank you!"

"You're not mad?" He asks as if he was expecting you would slap him rather than hug him. You feel the heat of his flushed cheeks against you.

"Why would I?" You take the garments between your fingers and appreciate them closely. Taking pity on his nerves, you give his shoulder a comforting squeeze, "You're allowed to buy sexy underwear you want to see your girlfriend in, Spencer."

"Am I?" he says incredulously.

"Yes," You respond, chuckling and then grinning excitedly, "I'll go try it on!"

His eyes widen comically and before he can say anything else you run with your new set to lock yourself inside the bathroom.

You shed your clothes and put on the lacey bra and matching panties, critically observing your reflection on the mirror. It's a really pretty set. The lace feels soft and expensive against your skin, Spencer must have spent a considerable amount on it.

The lingerie set it's not even that risqué to have put Spencer at the edge of a panic attack, you think to yourself with amusement, you've seen more provocative stuff in department stores.

Trutfully, it's perfect. The bra hugs your breasts, pushing them up and leaving the top prettily displayed, the panties frame your bum flatteringly and cinch around your hips perfectly. Plus the color contrasts nicely with your skin tone, though you suspect that's not the reason why he chose it.

Giving one last appreciative glance to your figure, you fluff your hair before exiting the bathroom.

You find Spencer sitting on the side of the bed, playing with his hands like he always does whenever he's nervous. His head immediately snaps up at the creek of the door.

Gathering all your courage, you put on a show, walking through your room with an enticing sway of your hips, your eyes staring directly at him.

Humming the tune of that one sexy song, you give a slow and playful turn to let him take you all in. You stop when you are facing him again, your hands resting on your hips and your eyebrow raising expectantly, "Well? How do I look?"

Spencer is too stunned to speak, his mouth parted in a dumb expression of wonder. It gives you an incredible rush.

"Sweet heavens," he exhales, you don't think he knows he's saying it out loud.

Under his admiring gaze, you become suddenly shy, your hands crossing over your middle, not knowing how to deal with so much of his undivided attention. "Oh, um... it fits."

"It certainly does," Spencer whispers in that airy tone again, his fingers stretching towards you and delicately tracing the edge of the lace panties. Goosebumps erupt all over you.

"Didn't think you'd know my bra size," you comment, desperately trying to stop your heart from wildly beating inside your ribcage.

"I didn't," He pulls you closer and you fall onto his lap, your arms instinctively closing around his neck, "I calculated it based on my memories."

"So you've thought about me naked while you were buying it," you say, regaining some of your confidence.

That seems to pull him out of his indulgent trance, his ears turning a bit pink, "Well... yeah, but just because they said I couldn't return underwear and–"

You stop him before he flusters himself again, "I'm just teasing you, Spence. You are also allowed to think of your girlfriend naked."

He looks up at your face and his lips curl in an uncharacteristically smug smirk.

"Not now!" You exclaim chuckling and slapping his shoulder playfully, "I guess that eidetic memory can serve naughtier purposes."

Spencer huffs out a laugh and closes his arms around your waist, pecking your lips sweetly, "You liked your present then, sweetheart?"

"I do, it's lovely," You pretend to go for another kiss but instead push his chest, making him fall back on the mattress.

“Hey,” he protests weakly, looking up at you with adoring eyes.

You lean forward, caging his head between your arms, a coy smile forming on your face, “Let's give that wonderful brain of yours a fresh memory to relive, eh?”

Let's just say the lingerie set doesn't stay on for much longer after that.

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I'm shamelessly peaking my head in here again, sorry for taking so long without posting, life has been having fun kicking my ass but luckily I'm on vacation now so I'll be more active yaaay

♡, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

Requests are open!!

hope ya liked it, byebye

my masterlist

[milkywaydrabbles]

Number 15 for Alucard, it'd be so cute!

A/N: I don't think this is the fluff you were expecting LOL I promise it's a happy ending but the angst took over. In case you (or anyone else) was wondering the song is Cherry Wine by Hozier (i'm in my feels right now about this man I'm sorry) Anyways I hope you like it mwuaaah

"Sing to me again" x Alucard

Fight.

Attack.

Defend.

Alucard couldn’t think of anything except you and the baby while he was on the front line. The village had been so peaceful, for long he nearly forgot there were still monsters crawling around in the world. The stragglers that had grown stronger, the ones who persevered throughout the days, weeks, months. The stragglers that had already killed some of the makeshift infantrymen, the ones who have had nothing but time on their hands and are so hungry they see red. The stragglers that had Alucard running out to defend the village while you stay hidden away deep in the castle, barricaded and locked behind the safety of your shared home. They were evolved, instantly locking onto the dhampir who was the strongest amongst the men, bloodied grins widening: teeth sharp as blades that could tear through muscle and sinew with ease.  Alucard steadied himself, gripping a little tighter onto his shield and sword, kissing its hilt and imagining your sweet face, the sweet face of his newborn daughter, and lunged.

-

You were frantic, trying so hard to stay calm if only for your energy not to be poured into the babe huffing and crying in your arms. You’d been trying to put her to bed, but how could she? How could she sleep when she felt your panic, your anxiety pulsing into the very air she breathed in? How could she sleep when your soothing rocking was more jarring than anything, your voice shaky as you shushed her? How could you ever expect her to calm her sorrows when, if you tried hard enough, you heard the incessant howls and screeches from the deadly monsters outside castle walls.  You prayed, you prayed to all the deities and gods that could ever possibly exist to bring your Adrian back home. You’d never worry like this, he’s so strong, fending off the monsters with ease. But you’d never seen him so nervous like this either: having the heavy knocks of men on the castle doors begging for saving. The sheer strength of the creatures overwhelming them. 

What felt like days passed, it could have been a few minutes, it could have been a few hours. You’re not sure, you and your daughter going in and out of sleep, waking at every creak and bang that was heard. You shushed and cooed, steadying yourself the best you could to maybe sing a lullaby to your darling girl. “Shh, shh, I know sweet pea--I miss him too. But he’ll be safe, he’ll come back..” You whispered, kissing her forehead as a tiny hand balled into a fist rubbed at scrunched up eyes. 

Her eyes and words are so icy oh, but she burns like rum on the fire. Hot and fast and angry as she can be, I walk my days on a wire. 

It looks ugly, but it’s clean, oh momma don’t fuss over me.

Way she tells me I’m hers, and she’s mine. Open hand or closed fist, would be fine. The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

The cries lulled to a few whines and whimpers, holding her to your chest as you continued your hushed tones.

Calls of guilty thrown at me, all while she stains the sheets of some other. Thrown at me so powerfully just like, she throws the arm of her brother.

But I want it, it’s a crime, that she’s not around most of the time.

Way she tells me I’m hers, and she’s mine. Open hand or closed fist, would be fine. The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

Singing has calmed you enough to keep a gentle bounce, baby slowly falling asleep in your arms. You internally sighed, thankful that at least the immediate worry of your child has been quelled. 

Now all you can do is wait for your beloved.

-

Alucard ended the life of the final monster, hearing the victorious cries and hollers of the villagemen around him. He was grateful the battle had ended, retreating quickly to your shared home, finally able to hold you in his arms. Slowly, he opened the doors, knowing any sudden movements could stir his (hopefully) sleeping baby girl. He didn’t want to increase your stress, already guilty that he had to leave you in disarray. He made his way to the room he’d left you in, sure you’d still be in there: the nursery. The very nursery that you two built with your own hands, right next to his old bedroom.

Just like Vlad and Lisa.

 As Alucard got closer, he heard small hiccups and babbles from his daughter, along with the soft singing coming from you. He recognized the song, a song you’d often sing to yourself when you thought he wasn’t listening. The same song you’d sing into his hair when he was half asleep. He pressed the door open, his heart stopping at the very sight of you whispering the song into your daughter’s fluffy mess of a head, eyes closed. You hadn’t noticed him, and he was grateful. He wanted to just take in the moment, all panic and anxiety of constantly thinking that something might have happened, that something might have gotten through the castle, all quelled the moment he saw you both. 

He let you finish, giving you a moment before softly knocking on the door, your eyes darting to him immediately, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “Adrian..” You whispered, voice heavy. He crossed the threshold, kneeling at your feet and holding you both without disturbing the sweet babe. “Oh thank god you’re safe.” You did your best not to cry, you really did, not realizing just how scared you were for his safety. But he was alive and well and back in your arms. “I’m here now, love, I’ll keep you both safe always.” He whispered into your hair, looking down at his baby with adoration. 

“I heard you singing, love.” You hummed, calm enough now to put your girl down in her crib. The moment you sat back down though, Alucard’s head rested on your lap, hugging at your legs. You pet his hair, combing your fingers through the blond tresses. You hummed the melody of the song to him as his eyes fluttered close, breathing even. By the end you’d thought he’d already falling asleep, instead he spoke a whisper: “My darling, will you sing to me again?” Your heart clenched, and with a smile you responded:

“As long as you keep coming home to us, I’ll sing to you every day.”

[neyswxrld]

weightless

Wrecker & Tech

summary: Wrecker and Tech meet in the afterlife.

warnings/vibe: it's not something that is all too sad i guess; there's an explosion, some clichés (the light in the darkness, force ghosts, you know the drill!)

words: ~1490

a/n: happy final bad batch eve! 🖤❤️🧡🖤

ok, hear me out - i don't want to fuel or believe in any theories before the final episode tomorrow. this is just for myself, for comforting and assuring myself that no matter what, everything will be okay eventually! of course, i absolutely hope nothing bad is going to happen, but for the case that wrecker dies ((and tech actually is dead)), i needed something to hold on to. and i'm sharing this because maybe someone finds some comfort in this one, too.

p.s.: english isn't my mother tongue, sorry for mistakes!

The last thing he sees is a bright fireball.

The last thing he feels is that burning heat all over his body.

The last thing he hears are Crosshair's frantic screams for him.

And then there's nothing.

Everything is quiet, peaceful.

There aren't any aches, or pain.

He isn't hungry, thirsty, too hot or too cold.

Everything feels content and for a short moment he thinks he's flying.

Floating around, weightless. Which is funny, because due to his mutations, he's always been the biggest of his brothers. And the heaviest. But he didn't mind, as long as he was able to protect them. Keep them safe.

He almost feels comforted by the nothingness surrounding him.

Everything seems balanced. Okay.

For the first time in a long while, he doesn't even feel scared. Just... indifferent. Good indifferent.

But suddenly there's that small light in the distance.

It's almost sparkling, whirling around, and he almost feels like it's calling for him.

Slowly, he starts to float towards the light.

It seems to be warm and bright, a huge contrast to this foreign quietness surrounding him, but it's not unwelcome.

It kinda... feels like home. Like he needs to go to that light. He needs to touch it. Feel its warmth, its energy.

Carefully, he reaches for the light.

The warmth emitted from the ball suddenly swarms through his body, reaching every inch, every hair, every scar. Inside and outside.

It's so good... It feels so good. Like he has to be here.

The longer he touches the light, the brighter it gets, filling up all the surrounding space.

He has to close his eyes, the light is getting too much, and... and-

When Wrecker opens his eyes for the next time, he looks into the googled face of his brother.

This one looks down at him with a confused frown plastered across his face.

He looks... Just like on the day they lost him.

"Tech?" he asks, confused, worried.

Why is he here? Is he dreaming? Tech was... Tech is... Tech is dead. How could this be?

"Wrecker," Tech says, adjusting his goggles.

"What's goin' on?" he asks, groaning slightly as he sits up.

But it's more a reflex. Nothing... hurts. He feels fine.

"How long was I out? Has to be for a long time, I feel good, nothin' hurts. At all," he raises his arms over his head, stretching, "I- I dreamed you died. Stupid plan 99, should've never came up with that, you'd never leave us like that, right, Tech? Wouldn't just... do that," Wrecker rambles and scratches his neck with his hand, looking up to Tech.

His older brother looks at him with a weird look on his face.

"I indeed executed plan 99. It was the only way out for the majority of the squad. I kept you safe," Tech says, pulling his lips into a straight line.

"W-What?" Wrecker asks confused, before shaking his head.

For the first time, he looks around and sees some sort of space shuttle. Maybe Phees ship? Or was it the one Rex arrived with? He had no idea.

"What can you remember?" Tech asks next, shuffling on his feet a bit.

He stands in front of the bunk Wrecker lays in. The rest of the room was empty, quiet. He could hear some muffled voices outside the room, but he couldn't make out any words.

"We were going in on Tantiss. There was this massive animal kicking my ass. Hurt like hell... But I still made it. I'm not made of sugar, right? Then...," Wrecker stops for a second, thinking about everything. His memory starts to get sloppy.

"Just remember meeting Omega somewhere. She freed that zillo beast. It was huge! And then... There's something about an explosion. Crosshair almost got caught in it. I shielded him, I think," Wrecker murmurs and takes another deep breath as the memory of that burning pain around his body catches up with his brain.

But that's all - just a memory... Nothing hurts for real.

"Is he safe? Are the others? Where are they? Why are you here? Tech, I'm really confused right now," Wrecker shakes his head and looks up at his older brother again.

Tech swallows before nodding.

"They made it out fine, Wrecker," Tech assures him, before swallowing for a second time.

Why is he acting so weird?

"Great!" Wrecker exclaims, at the same as Tech says, "But you didn't."

They look at each other, keeping quiet for a while.

"I didn't?" He asks, "What do you mean by that?"

"You blew up, Wrecker. I think... you died," Tech states.

"I'm dead?" he echoes, before adding, "You think?"

"It appears that the explosion you shielded Crosshair from was a lot heavier than anticipated. While you saved Crosshair's life, you... you lost yours," Tech explains, breaking the news to him.

Wrecker looks at him for a few seconds, speechless.

That would explain why there isn't any pain. Or why he's able to talk to Tech.

They're both dead.

"I-I don't... Where are we? Why are we here?" is the next thing he wants to know, not fully able to understand how he should approach this new... situation. Everything's so strange.

"Currently, we are on a shuttle with the others. I dragged you up here. It appears that we are some kind of ghosts. At least we're in a state after life, which takes part in either some kind of parallel universe or in a temporal upheaval. I am not certain about that," Tech says, adjusting his goggles again.

Wrecker looks at him with raised brows, a huge question mark forming in his head. "You don't know?"

"In all that time I've been here, I wasn't able to fully conclude the whole extent of this... situation. But I've met some other clones, following their loved ones around in this state. So I assume it's a part of life, or, more precisely, the afterlife," his older brother sighs a little.

Wrecker pulls his feet over the edge of the bunk so he's fully sitting now, holding his head in his hands.

"Can the others see us?" Wrecker asks and Tech looks at him like he just lost his head.

"Of course not."

Wrecker feels like he just lost his head.

"It takes time getting used to. I'll leave you alone so you can think about it," Tech says.

Wrecker thinks he still acts a little odd. Not like the Tech he used to know. Not like the Tech that... was alive.

Tech seems to be honest about the fact that it takes some time to get used to the new situation. Wrecker isn't sure if his brother even got used to it by now. Not with how he's acting. And now... He's here, too.

"Tech," Wrecker starts and reaches for his brothers' wrist, gently laying his fingers around it and pulling him towards him.

"I-I don't want to be alone. Can you stay?" he says and moves to the side a little.

Tech nods and carefully sits down, unusually close to him.

"Have you been alone the whole time since..?" he wants to know, but Tech just shrugs.

"I was following the squad around," Tech murmurs and sinks into Wrecker's side as he lays an arm around him.

They haven't 'cuddled' like that in so, so many years.

"But now you have me," Wrecker whispers almost. He doesn't know if he's glad or sad about it.

Sure, he saved Crosshairs life. He helped his brothers. He had Tech again. But he'll miss the others. So, so much.

Tech has had to go through those first steps alone. He must have been so lost in the beginning. So lonely.

"Are we going to see the others again when they... When they die?" he wants to know after some time.

"That seems to be very likely," Tech answers, and Wrecker nods again.

That means he could still watch over them, be with them, and meet them again. And now, neither him or Tech, or the others will be alone for a while. Hopefully.

They freed Omega, they made a run for their lives.

They lost brothers, gained friends and family.

They settled down on a remote planet.

Quiet and peaceful.

They made a life for themselves, far, far away from the empire and all the evil in the world.

They saw Omega grow up.

They saw the others growing old.

They saw the others live the life they never had the chance to. And they were happy for them.

When Hunter joined them one day, they welcomed him with warm hugs and reassurances that everything would be fine.

As soon as Crosshair was with them, they almost felt complete once more.

When they followed Omega to Rex and his remaining brothers, they met Echo again.

Together, they kept watching over their baby sister, never forgetting their promises of staying with her.

MASTERLIST

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@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023 @freesia-writes

[whatdoidosatoru]

First Date (Keisuke Baji x OC) chapter 1

PART 1 of The Only Exception

experimental emo!baji fic (Baji x OC that's just reader but with a name because i'd rather shoot myself than write y/n)

part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - ao3

Both, Baji and OC are into alternative music and I've tried to not describe OC physically so she can be anyone :)

pairing: Keisuke Baji x reader

word count: 7.2k

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

I don't know how to tag but here goes nothing: oral sex (both receiving), fingering, slight dirty talk, face-fucking, penetrative sex, bathroom sex, slight asshole!baji, fem!reader

The met at a night club and turn it into a whole thing, songs to go with the story:

𝆕 Playlist

18 - Anarbor

First Date - blink-182

Bring Me To Life - Evanescence

The River - Good Charlotte

Ocean Avenue - Yellowcard

Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon

DONTTRUSTME - 3OH!3

Cherrypie - Warrant

Rebel Love song - Black Veil Brides

The day of the event finally came. I’d been looking forward to Emo Nite for almost a month now, ever since my best friend called me screaming that the new date had been announced. You’d think being in university with the event manager would help stifle the excitement over it since we could get any information about it whenever we wanted, but it’d been months since the two of us had gone out anywhere. It was the only thing on my mind as I dragged myself through my lectures, 3 pm could not have come any sooner. Finally, as the last lecture of the day came to an end, I started packing up my notes, trying to figure out what I was going to wear. 

My apartment was a short walk away from the university, the club, and our favourite gym, therefore this entire day was made that much easier as I didn’t have to depend on public transportation to get anywhere. 

Just as I opened the front door to my place that I shared with my best friend and roommate, I was attacked by my favourite playlist blasting from her room, the playlist I had made for her to get in the zone for these kinds of parties, all consisting of the music I had got moaned at for listening to in my teens. It very obviously was not a phase, mom. 

“You should put on 3OH!3” I let myself into her room.

“I don’t know what that means!!” She was frantically going through her wardrobe looking for something to wear.

“Give me the phone, trust me,” I said with a wink.

I clicked on the song and noticed some of my own clothes strewn over her bed, evidence that both of us currently had the same issue to decide on. I loved showing her the music I u̶s̶e̶d̶ t̶o̶ listen to as she never got to experience peak emo and scene culture in the town where she grew up. 

“What the fuck kind of line is ‘I’m a vegetarian and I ain’t fucking scared of him’”

“Mai, don’t question peak songwriting. It’s iconic.” 

She rolled her eyes, but I knew she was enjoying it. 

It was my turn to cook so I got to work preparing food for both of us before a well-deserved rest. Since I’d never been good at estimating the amount of rice needed for two people, there was now a full pot of leftovers that I promptly put away while cleaning up. 

The music blasting from Mai’s room was making me dance around the kitchen and postponing the tiredness I’d felt ever since opening my eyes in the morning. To take advantage of that burst of energy, I cleaned up all surfaces in the kitchen and dining room, giving Mai a break from her turn for cleaning that day, and moved on to the bathroom, where I made sure everything looked decent enough not to put me into a slump when we wake up the next day. Satisfied with the work, it was time to take a short nap before going to the gym. 

“Maybe this was a mistake, maybe we were too ambitious to plan to go out after the gym.” My friend complained on the way home.

“Well, maybe you should’ve done a low-intensity set like me like I told you! Because I’m feeling great!”

“I’m too old for this shit.”

“You’re 22! I dread to think how you’ll feel when you’re 80.”

She just stuck her tongue out at me in response. 

Both of us felt rejuvenated after a shower and it was high time to start getting dressed and doing our makeup. The playlist was back on and so was the random singing and shouting. I decided on a black blink-182 top, black jeans that are so ripped that I put fishnets on underneath, and an oversized denim jacket over the top.

The guitar pick necklace matched the t-shirt and all that was left was to put a fuck ton of eyeliner on. I went into Mai’s room to check on her and, damn, she looked incredible. She’d fit right in with her shorts, completely ripped black tights, Linkin Park t-shirt, and a plaid shirt wrapped tightly around her waist. I wolf-whistled.

“Not sure I can let you out like that, Mai.”

“Is something wrong with it? Is it too much? Oh no it’s too much isn’t it…”

“Hell no I’m just thinking of the best way to swat people away when they start swarming you.”

She smirked at the comment “You look just like you did in your old photos…just with better hair.”

“Please don’t remind me, I can still smell the hair spray.”

We sat on the floor and started doing our makeup, occasionally changing songs on her speakers and cracking stupid jokes. When we were done it was around 10 pm and Mai insisted on taking photos before leaving. My eyeliner sort of matched her plaid shirt, big black wings with red lines underneath, on my inner corners, and slicing through my eyebrows. On the lips, I opted for black-red ombre lipstick hoping it doesn’t transfer onto my cup of whatever I chose to drink. 

The walk to the club was pleasant as it wasn’t too cold or too hot. With those last breaths of fresh air of the night, we walked in and found our names on the list to be let inside. The space wasn’t very big, but it had only a few open windows so I felt sweat dripping down my back almost as soon as we got to the dance floor. Waving at the DJ and the event manager, we made our way to the bar. Mai started flirting with the bartender and I really had to respect the swiftness with which she got her first free drink of the night.

I grabbed my extortionately priced can of Red Bull and a straw and headed to the floor. There was quite a big crowd of people on one end of the room so we danced our way to the other side. The big reason why I loved going out with Mai is that she left all her shyness at home and sang from the top of her lungs even if her words were wrong. I, on the other hand, had to be broken out of my shell every time. 

After a while, having gotten comfortable with a big crowd of people all around us, I started noticing familiar faces walking in. Some of Mai’s friends from one of her lectures were there and we very quickly joined them in carving out some space for our group on the dancefloor. I could feel the makeup melting and everyone was getting water to freshen up so I decided to venture out to find the nearest toilet. Mai followed me out and kept singing as we walked past a group of guys, one of whom nearly knocked me into the wall.

“Watch it, assholes!” She shouted after them as I was regaining balance.

There was broken glass stuck in the soles of my vans and I could feel it scrape the floor as I walked on. 

“I swear some people don’t understand the concept of personal space, are you okay?” her worrying was adorable.

“Yeah, I just have to pick out the glass from my soles now. He didn’t even apologise, did he?”

“Nah, that’s okay I’ll find him back inside and feed him my fist though, don’t you worry.” I laughed as she pretended to punch the hand dryer. We tried to dab some sweat off of our faces with toilet paper but soon gave up as it would probably build up as soon as we stepped back into the room. Heading back, my favourite song came on and I had to sprint to get back to our group and share my excitement with others. 

“I really fucking love this song!” I shouted into someone’s ear, only to realise it was not one of my people, but the very asshole that pushed me in the hallway minutes before, along with his friends. He looked me up and down and, smirking like I was a child expressing their enjoyment of an animated film, chuckled “Good for you”.

I turned to find Mai, but she had already seen the interaction and followed what happened with raised eyebrows. 

“Was that…”

“Someone that still needs to get punched for being a dick? Yeah that’s the guy.”

“Mai, he’s hot. Why didn’t you tell me he was this hot! I would’ve pushed myself to save him the trouble of doing it himself if he needed me to!”

“I can’t hear half the words you just said and I don’t think I want to. You’re too sexually frustrated for your own good.”

Still I couldn’t stop picturing his face as he looked me up and down. Did he like what he saw? Did he find me cringe? Did he realise I was the person he pushed? I could’ve sworn I caught a glimpse of adorable fangs in his mouth, was he one of those weirdos that wore fake fangs to emo events?

Mai dragged me to the bar to get another drink, but I kept scanning the room to find the asshole vampire guy. With a new can in hand, I went towards the DJ to talk to the event manager. She was a really cool girl I had met waiting for our professor to start the lecture because both of us wore the same band t-shirt. Ever since she started organising these parties, Mai and I have been on the list and stayed until the very end of the party. 

“What’s wrong? You never not sing along to Ocean Avenue,” Hana waved in front of my face. Mai chuckled and told her I was just too horny to function. 

“Who’s the target tonight?” Hana asked with a massive grin.

“That long-haired asshole next to the bar,” Mai pointed towards him and his group of friends, all of them with drinks in their hands and not really dancing or looking like they were there for the music.

They kept talking while I made my way back out of the room to get some air and space to think. When someone stood next to where I was crouching, I assumed it was Mai trying to get me back inside.

“Sorry about pushing you earlier,” a voice that definitely wasn’t Mai’s said.

I looked up and was greeted by a pair of bronze eyes and a serious face framed by long black hair. Leaning on the wall with hands in his pockets, it was Asshole Vampire from before. The one I couldn’t stop looking for in the crowd, now he stood next to me where I could hear him better. I quickly stood up and swayed a little from getting up too fast. 

“I didn’t think you even noticed someone falling and stepping on glass because of you.” My voice was vibrating from screaming along with the music earlier.

“I know it’s not really an excuse, but I tried to get back as soon as possible to hear the song that was playing. I love Black Veil Brides.” He chuckled and looked down.

I looked him over, he was wearing a white button-up shirt that was slightly unbuttoned, black jeans, and black Converse. His hair was long and shiny, falling forward nonchalantly. 

“I will say that just might be a good enough reason, I’ll try to call off the hit I put on you.” I tried sounding casual despite the fact that he was standing so close to me I could feel the warmth of his body.

“That would be great, thanks. You have a good music taste, apparently. Good Charlotte is one of my favourite bands.”

I looked at him and blushed, that meant he definitely knew it was me shouting in his ear earlier.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I thought you were someone I knew.”

He looked amused, “I’m Keisuke. Now I’m also someone you know.”

I shook his hand, trying to secretly admire his beautiful long fingers. “Yuna. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“I’ve never managed to get my friends to come with me before, and I’m not the type to go out to clubs by myself.”

“Well, I hope you get them to come next time as well, I’ve been to every Emo Nite and they’re always amazing. I’m friends with the event manager as well.” Wow shut up, I thought to myself, who gives a shit. 

“They’re not really into the same music, that’s why we’re just standing there like statues. Just observing. Like a bunch of creeps.”

That made me shiver a bit. Was I actually holding a conversation with this guy? If only Mai could see me now…she’d probably run over to punch Keisuke in the face. 

“I get it, luckily, my friend is discovering this music now and likes it, I’ve been into it since I was probably 10.”

“Ahhh, the right age to sing about all the greatest pains in life, back before you even knew what the real world was.” He stared ahead like he knew that pain now.

“Yeah, but it’s been 12 years since then, and it’s still my day-to-day music.”

“You’re 22 then?” He looked back at me, “Are you from around here? We could’ve been in the same year..”

“I moved here for university.” Okay great, he was my age and he had the same music taste. I couldn’t help but wonder what his lips would taste like…

“You know I can see you staring at my lips, right?” He grinned, obviously very pleased with himself having caught me staring.

“Hm? Oh…yeah. You’re insanely gorgeous, sorry,” I cringed at myself. What the fuck is wrong with me? May as well go get Mai and head home, there is no way I could enjoy my night after this. A soft chuckle escaped his mouth “Likewise, I didn’t get a very good look at you inside, but now that I can see you properly, I’m really glad I came out to check on you.”

Wait, what? “Check on me?”

“It seemed like you were unwell, and when you headed out I wanted to make sure you didn’t collapse or something,” he shrugged. My heart started pounding, he was looking at me inside? He worried about me? He wanted to help me? Woah. 

“That’s very kind, coming from the guy who almost flattened me with the wall.”

He threw his head back and laughed, “Are you going to hold that against me forever?”

“Maybe,” I smiled at him, “unless you make it up to me.”

He turned to face me completely.

“Well, how about we head back inside to enjoy some music together, and you think of a way for me to me it up to you?”

I took in his gorgeous jawline and the canines peeking through his lips.

“Lead the way, Keisuke.”

We went back inside, I immediately started scanning the crowd for Mai or Hana. They waved me over to them and I grabbed Keisuke’s hand to lead him to them. Mai’s eyes went wide and I knew we were going to have to talk about this later.

“Keisuke, this is Mai, my best friend, and that’s Hana, she organised this event,” I shouted into his ear, inhaling the scent of his hair.

Mai looked him up and down and Hana shook his hand. I was pleading with Mai with my eyes not to beat the shit out of him right then and there, signalling that I didn’t want him dead.

“I’m going to stay over at Hana’s tonight, if that’s okay with you, Yuna.” Hana turned to her with questions in her eyes, but Mai pinched her arm and smiled at her. 

Was she trying to give me some kind of a signal? Keisuke looked between us, all I could do was just nod and go dance. It seemed too convenient that the next song that was playing was a slow one. Keisuke grabbed my hand, “I assume you want to dance to blink-182,” he nodded at my t-shirt and necklace. 

I couldn’t believe it. We’d been dancing for several songs now, surprisingly, he’s actually got rhythm. Mai decided to stay with Hana and not come back for me, which normally never happens. It was always the two of us against everyone in the room. Maybe she saw the tension between Keisuke and me - wait…was there tension between Keisuke and me? He was looking down at me and smiling most of the time, save for when he was belting out to the music. Especially when both of us were singing the wrong lyrics to Fall Out Boy. After a while, he dragged me to the hallway to speak to me.

“Do you want to get out of here?” He looked at me intensely. It took me a few seconds to catch on.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Do you live nearby?”

This wasn’t weird, right? To the rational part of my brain, it sounded like a bad idea, but I’d been imagining what his lips would feel like on my neck for a good part of the night. 

“Yeah, walking distance,” As soon as I said that he leaned down and caught my lips with his. I reached for his neck and brought him closer, deepening the kiss. His lips were soft and I could smell his shampoo as his hair fell to tickle my face. There was a low vibration in the back of his throat. When he broke the kiss he looked into my eyes like he was trying to read them. I could get lost just staring at his face. He smiled and took my hand, “Lead the way, Yuna.”

I fumbled around my pockets trying to text Mai while he let his friends know he wasn’t going home with them. It seemed like a fortunate coincidence that Mai was staying over at Hana’s tonight.

Yunaaaaasty, 01:28

i’m going home with vampire guy, am i making the biggest mistake of my life?

Mai Darling, 01:29

thought so :) why did you think i made Hana let me stay over?

Yunaaaaasty, 01:29

you’re a mastermind and i owe you for this

Mai Darling, 01:30

oh yes you do but honestly it’s not as fun singing i’m not okay without you <3333

just let me know if you’re dead or alive in the morning so i can alert the police kbye have fun ;)

I looked up as Keisuke reached for my hand, his grip was so warm it immediately made my heart jump. I could feel warmth pooling in my stomach in anticipation of what might happen in just a few short minutes. Keisuke kept asking me questions about my life on our way there, though I wasn’t exactly sure why he was so curious if this was to be only a one-time thing. Maybe he was trying to determine if I was a psycho killer of some sort…or maybe he was? Oh well, he was so gorgeous I wouldn’t mind dying if it meant having some fun with him beforehand. 

We walked up the stairs and he started kissing behind my ear. My skin felt tight in anticipation of his touch and I felt myself shiver as his kisses trailed down to my neck.

“You’re distracting me, I’m trying to get us inside at least,” I chuckled at him.

“How long does it normally take you to unlock your front door?”

“Hey it’s difficult finding the key in this mess of keychains, now I have you making me thinking about uhhh…other things as well.”

He moved to my lips and nipped at my bottom lip. “Oh and what is it that I’m making you think about?” There is no way I was saying that out loud outside my apartment, so I just pushed the door open and dragged him inside after me.

~

I started taking my denim jacket off all the while not breaking the kiss and leading him to my bedroom. I shut the door and clumsily shook off my Vans, starting to unbutton his shirt. He looked at me with hungry eyes, his hands travelling along my hips and up to my breasts. Luckily, the fairy lights around my bed frame were left on so I could see his eyes as he was drinking in the lust in my eyes. When he shrugged off his shirt, he started unbuttoning my jeans and pushed me toward my desk, still messy with my coursework and at least four dictionaries and other heavy tomes. I broke the kiss to put the books away when he chuckled, “Damn, I was kind of hoping to knock it over in the heat of the moment and eat you out on top of the desk,” As hot as that would’ve been, this was the product of a month of research and hard work and it deserved to be put away safely.

“If I hadn’t spent all my sanity working on this paper I would say yes.”

“Can I still eat you out at least?” I felt my knees threatening to give out, why was his saying that so damn hot? 

“Please,” I moaned into his mouth and started to peel my fishnets off when he grabbed my hands to stop me.

“Keep them on,” his breathy voice rolled into my ear, “but how attached are you to those panties?”

This confused me, but he already grabbed the fabric of my underwear and started ripping them on the side and casting them away. He lifted me up and put me on top of my desk, now trailing his mouth down my torso to where my panties were a few seconds ago. His large hands ripped the crotch of my tights and started putting his hair up into a ponytail. I hadn’t noticed the hair tie that had been around his wrist until he took it off and held it with his teeth.

My head spun when he lowered his lips to my heat and started to lick long strokes between the folds. Leaning back on my hands, I let out a breathy moan that made him chuckle into me and start sucking on my clit.

“Oh my..Keisuke yes,” I couldn’t keep it in anymore, his tongue swirled all around the most sensitive area and when I looked down at his face his eyes were set on me, as if he needed to make sure I was coming undone. As if my moans and hitched breaths weren’t enough of a sign, he needed to see it with his own eyes. 

My hand went to the base of his ponytail to bring him closer to me, as I did so it felt like he dug in with an even stronger intensity than before. I was nearing my peak when he inserted a finger inside me. I could feel his lips spreading into a smile when he saw my reaction like he was saving that move until the end.

“Let go, Yuna. If you cum on my tongue now I’ll let you ride me.” That was all that was needed to push me over the edge and make me shake with pleasure while his hand held me down on the desk. 

He got up and pulled my t-shirt off, slowly unbuckling my bra and adding it to the pile of clothes on the floor. Keisuke let his hair back down and started pulling my hair into a ponytail, tying it with his hair tie. I pushed him onto my bed and crawled up to his crotch, pulling his jeans down as he pushed his Converse off his feet.

When I pulled down his boxers I was met with his hard cock slapping his abdomen and, looking up into his eyes, gave the head an experimental lick. His eyelashes fluttered and he closed his eyes so I took it as a sign to continue. 

Keisuke let out the sweetest moan when I took as much of his length as I could into my mouth, one hand on his shaft, the other on the balls. With long, circular motions, my tongue slid all over his cock, licking off any drops of precum it dripped.

His balls were in my hand, softly being massaged, causing him to huff and moan softly. His hand reached for my hair and grabbed it to lead me how he wanted me. He held me in place as his hips thrust up. As his thrusts got more and more frantic, my throat had had enough, so I released his balls from my hand and grabbed the hand that was holding my ponytail signalling I needed a break.

He released me and dragged me up to his face to kiss me, but I had to get things moving to get him inside of me as soon as possible. 

Leaning over to my bedside table, I pushed aside my phone and Polaroid camera, grabbed a condom from the drawer, and turned on some music, “Alexa, play Oh My Word It’s Happening playlist.” When the first song started playing, he let out a laugh,

“Really, First Date?” 

“Hey, I want to make this night last forever, okay?”

I handed him the condom and straddled his abdomen, leaning in to kiss him deeply. Keisuke’s hair was spread over the pillow like a dark halo, framing his beautiful face, I almost forgot how to breathe. His hands were trailing along my thighs, still covered with fishnet tights, as I positioned myself above his hard cock, slowly lowering myself down, his eyes rolling back and filthy moans escaping his soft lips.

When I sunk fully onto his cock, I couldn’t help myself but let out a high-pitched moan which seemed to wake him from the bliss he was in. He grabbed my hips and helped me bounce myself on him. The thickness that spread my walls made me feel full, and each thrust scratched an impossible itch inside me. When Keisuke started grunting with each thrust I knew he was nearing his peak. I reached to rub my clit with one hand, but he swiftly knocked it aside and replaced it with his own. I threw my head back in pure pleasure and let out all the pent-up pressure from my throat as I came all over his dick, he followed soon after with an animalistic moan and stopped thrusting. 

He looked spent and let go of my hips, I needed to burn the image of him lying underneath me into the insides of my eyelids. I reached over to grab my camera,

“Do you mind if I take one of you?” I motioned with the camera. He gave me a small smile,

“Is this some kind of a psycho killer trophy you’re collecting?”I couldn’t help but laugh,

“Maybe, but I want to remember this.” He nodded with a blissful smile, so I looked through a viewfinder and pushed the button. Putting the camera aside, I got off of him and lay next to him, gently taking the condom off and launching it into the bin.

~

“I feel obligated to mention that I’ve never done this before,” He raised his eyebrow at my comment, causing me to correct myself, “I mean, I’ve never brought someone home like this, especially after just meeting them.” He was tracing shapes on my stomach, all the while staring into my eyes.

“Me neither,” he admitted, “I’m still not convinced you’re not some psycho killer taking advantage of young men, taking salacious photos of them, and then disposing of their corpses in the nearby bushes.” I just had to laugh at the notion,

“You seem to have put a lot of thought into this scenario, are you sure you’re not the murderer?” He leaned over to place a kiss on my shoulder,

“Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Looking over at him, I took in his loose hair, now messy and half-resting on my pillows.

“Honestly, after this, I think I would gladly let you kill me. I don’t remember the last time I felt this good.” When Keisuke pulled me closer to him, resting his hand on my hip, I swear I could have floated away.

After some conversation that sounded way too casual considering the way we had just made each other feel, I heard Keisuke’s stomach rumble so I offered to get him some food and dragged him out of bed and into the kitchen. He managed to put his boxers back on while I put on my pyjama top and we made way to investigate the food situation. 

“I’ve got some leftovers from today, I mean, I guess it’s technically yesterday now.” I pulled out the tub with leftover fried rice and chicken and stuck it into the microwave while he inspected the fridge door that was littered with polaroids of Mai and me, some from our work with other coworkers, some of us cuddling her cats from back home, some of our birthday and end-of-exams parties, and others of my old dance group from different competitions we attended.

“You have cats?” He seemed really interested in all individual photos.

“Ah, no, those are Mai’s parents’ cats. They live in the middle of nowhere and have a bunch of animals, unfortunately, we couldn’t get any of her pets here when we moved in,” I pointed at another photo of me with a big black labrador sitting on the beach, “That’s my dog, but he lives with my parents, as I’m too busy to take care of a dog right now.” He nodded and looked over a few more photos before stepping towards me and pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. 

At that moment the microwave beeped and I went to grab the food and plate it up. We ate standing in the kitchen, neither of us feeling inclined to move away from each other. Keisuke was stuffing his face like he hadn't eaten in days,

“I think you need to slow down,” I said with a smirk.

“This is amazing, I can’t stop,” he said with his mouth full.

When he was done, he started to put the plates into the dishwasher and I offered him something to drink. With him in the kitchen, I made my way to the bathroom to wipe my makeup off, noticing the lipstick hadn’t transferred at all. Keisuke appeared behind me when I had taken off most of the makeup and started touching my ass. Luckily I didn’t put any underwear on, remembering how he ripped the pair I wore earlier. I looked at him through the mirror and smiled at his gentle caresses. He seemed entranced by my skin and started making his way towards my bare heat. Gently rubbing my sensitive lips, he elicited soft moans from my lips. Our eyes met in the mirror and he returned my smile,

“You’re so beautiful, did you know that? I loved seeing you with  the makeup, but this,” he reached for my cheek with his hand, the other one still rubbing my pussy, “is incredible.” 

He grabbed my face and kissed it, making me moan into his mouth which made him change his approach and sink a finger inside of me. He groaned when my walls sucked his finger in, adding another and hooking them to hit the most sensitive spot inside. My legs started shaking with pleasure, which seemed to amuse him enough to giggle and move to stand right behind me, spreading my legs.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” Keisuke whispered, “but you’re making me feel feral, like no amount of touching you will ever be enough,” his voice was making me wet with desire.

“Feral? We can do it like they do it on the Discovery channel then,” I invited him for another round. I opened one of the drawers under the sink and passed him a condom, causing him to chuckle,

“Very convenient.” 

“We like to be prepared,” he aligned his once again hard cock with my entrance and pushed in, throwing his head back in pleasure, my back arching to get a better angle, still holding the edges of the sink. He pushed into me until I couldn’t take any more and gasped loudly. He stopped and started pulling out and pushing back in, only up to the point I could handle. This angle made hitting the sensitive spot so much easier, it made me gasp and whine with every single one of his thrusts. His hands were squeezing my ass like it was the only thing keeping him grounded on this Earth. His cock was buried deep inside of me, hitting my most sensitive areas, pulling me apart from the inside.

I threw my head back and Keisuke took the opportunity to grab my jaw and pull me towards his face. He was grunting into my ear and kissing my neck, I was certain I wouldn’t last much longer. 

With his teeth, he scraped along my neck. With a cry, I creamed on his cock, which only seemed to make him go faster and harder. “Good girl, hold on tight,” he whispered into my ear, letting go of my jaw and instead holding the base of my ponytail as I held onto the wall in front of me for dear life. One of his hands snaked around me and found my clit, rubbing it in circular motions, sending me into another orgasm, this one louder than the last.

Never breaking pace, he chuckled and smacked my ass three times before returning both his hands on my ass, pulling me into his hips repeatedly.

“Faster Keisuke, please!” I cried out, and he obliged. Soon after that I felt another wave of pleasure threatening to swallow me whole. Just as I started crying out his name again, he moaned into my hair and finished, slowing his thrust leading us both through our orgasms. Once he stopped, our eyes locked in the mirror once more, I didn’t know if I had it in me to smile at him. His cock slid out of me and he took off the condom and threw it away, spinning me around to kiss me with all the energy he had left. I had half a mind to thank him, but I couldn’t form words anymore, I just grabbed his hand and led him back into my bedroom, cuddling into him on the bed. 

~

“Yuna?”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you okay?”

Turning around to face him, I caressed his face, taking in his loose hair, soft eyes, slightly protruding canines, and soft lips. I wanted to look at him forever, there’s something arresting about his face making me incapable of looking away. 

“Why do you ask?” Was he overthinking this whole night? Is he trying to make me start kicking him out so he doesn’t have to make the first move?

“You haven’t said a word since…since we fucked in the bathroom.” His tone was that of worry. 

“I think… you may have taken every ounce of energy that I had saved for conversation,” I said with a giggle, “I came twice before that, and then three times in the bathroom. A girl needs to breathe and rest.”

His smile returned, lighting his face up, I just had to close the distance between us and kiss him softly. 

“How are you feeling?” I wondered, gently caressing his arm.

“Completely empty. I feel like all my worries and stress just,” he made a floating gesture with his hand, “disappeared.” 

“I think we both deserve some sleep, don’t you agree?”

He looked into my eyes as if to read them again, then rolled me over, pressed me into his form, and softly whispered good night.

I grabbed my phone only to be met with a few messages from Mai:

Mai Darling, 2:30

hope you’re not dead because Hana said there’s another party in 2 weeks and she’ll kill us if we don’t come

Mai Darling, 3:15

ok you’re either dead and i have to clean up the apartment of your blood or you’re still fucking and i hope to everything holy it’s the latter and i don’t have to get the blood out of the carpet

Mai Darling, 4:45

i’m gonna choose to believe you’re so fucked out you can’t even pick up your phone. get it girl. Message me when you can though

Yunaaaaasty, 5:20

alive but barely. came five times. hurts my brain to think we have work today. see you soon.

Mai Darling, 5:21

YESSSSSSSS i knew that little bastard had it in him…or more accurately he had it in you! ;)

i’m home around 9, prepare the report and i’m making us some coffee for that piping hot tea

What a weirdo. My eyelids closed to the soft sound of Keisuke’s light snores. 

~

With a start, my eyelids flew open to quickly switch off the alarm before it woke up Keisuke. With a groan, he flipped over to his back, hand reaching over to try and locate his phone. He sat up to rummage through the pile of clothes we left on the floor to fish it out of his pocket. 

“Ah, shit. I have work in a few hours,” he looked over at me and smiled, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t stay a tiny bit longer. That is, if you want me here?” His eyes were full of hope.

I pulled him towards me and caught him in a kiss, his hand started wandering underneath the sheets, grabbing my boobs, hips, thighs, pulling me closer. Every time he squeezed me a moan escaped my mouth into his, which seemed to make him more eager each time.

His hands travelled down to my pussy and started to softly spread my folds, ghosting over my clit with each move. In an attempt to get more friction, I started to roll my hips on his hand, desperately trying to unravel the bundle of tension already forming in my belly. He smirked and probed my entrance with a finger, catching the gasp coming out of my mouth with his own. 

I was already reaching back into the drawer to fish out another condom, expecting another round, when his mouth left mine to trail kisses and nibbles down my neck to my collarbone while his other hand was holding my neck. Am I getting into this? His hands are so pretty that I kind of want them around my neck for a little longer. 

“How are you so amazing at this?” I squeezed out between moans. He chuckled, “It’s a curse.”

“Then please curse me again.”

His head snapped up and we locked eyes. Grabbing the condom from my hand he got in my face, “Only because you asked me nicely, gorgeous.”

This time his thrusts were slower, towering over me, leaning on his elbows, his hair fell into my face, smelling of his shampoo and my perfume mixed together. Citrusy and sweet. I hoped the pillow he had slept on kept the scent a little bit longer. His eyes were focused on my face, following every hitched breath as he hit my sensitive spot with every move.

My insides squeezed his length with the desire to keep him inside a bit longer, the slow and lazy motions we were going through seemed very fitting with the chilly morning air coming in through the open window. As fast and rough as last night’s sex was, this morning’s sex was gentle, careful, and deliberate. My hands were firmly planted on his back, nails scratching slowly. I was soon brought to my peak again, this time it wasn’t sudden and needy, but slow and sure. 

“Keisuke I’m close,” I moaned right into his ear, which seemed to set off something in him as his pupils dilated and his movements became needier. Like he’ll drop through the ground into the centre of the Earth if he doesn’t chase our orgasms. 

“Say it again,” he squeezed out through his moans.

“Keisuke! I’m so close, keep it going please!”

“More,” his voice was desperate, his eyes were squeezed shut with concentration.

“Please I need you, Keisuke! You feel so good, you’re making me cum!”

With a cry, we finished in sync and he dropped on top of me, barely breathing just like me. He pulled out slowly and discarded the condom, pushing his hair back from his face. 

“How many times was that?” 

“This was my sixth, but it felt more intense than the ones before.”

The look on his face was that of beaming pride and bliss. “Not bad for one night,” he said with a wink, “but I’m afraid I have to get going if I want to at least shower before work.”

“Where do you work?” Considering how much we talked throughout the night, I didn’t get this important piece of information. Sure, now I knew what his life goals were, how old he was when he broke his first tooth, and how many bikes he had crashed in his childhood, but somehow his place of employment hadn’t popped up.

“Pet zone. The one next to the main square.” He raked his fingers through his hair, leaving me in awe of his lean body and toned arms. He started putting his clothes back on, so I got up to find a new pair of underwear and an oversized T-shirt. 

Now that we were both dressed, we met in the middle of the room with another deep kiss, this time he pulled me into a hug. Huh, we had fucked 3 times and I fed him, but we just hugged for the first time. I could’ve just melted in his arms, but the sound of the front door unlocking made me step away and see him to the door. 

Mai walked in with a big smile on her face and a bag of groceries.

“Good morning sleepyhead, time to start on breakfast!” She said with too much energy for both of us. 

“Actually, I have to get going or I won’t make it to work,” with a quick kiss to my lips, he started for the door.

Mai turned to him as if wondering what he was still doing there.

“Okay, great seeing you, Kazuki,” she said with a smile.

“Likewise, Mirei.”

She frowned slightly, “It’s Mai.”

He smirked, “It’s Keisuke.” He winked at me and closed the door behind him.

Mai turned to me with a grin, “I like him, he can take a joke. Right,” she clapped her hands, marching into the kitchen, “I’m making coffee, you’re getting ready to spill everything. Apart from the coffee, of course.”

With sleep still in my eyes, I made for my bedroom to put the books and papers back onto the desk and let some more air in, since the whole room smelled of sex. As I raked through my hair, I realised his hair tie was still in my hair, I wondered if he left it with me on purpose.

[starillusion13]

FRIENDS!? Chapter 27

🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳

Series ML

Pairing: poly!ateez × f!reader (An ATEEZ Office AU)

Genre: Mature, Angst, Yandere

Warning: mention of memories (nothing much just go with the flow).

W.C: 3.2k Network: @k-vanity

[Reblogs and Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you for reading and have a nice day ahead. Please always take care of yourself everyone.]

Hello, Can we be friends please?

The only word that was ringing inside your head was...RUN!

Seonghwa was across the street and you were facing towards Mingi who was slowly walking towards you, aware of your scared form and then there Jongho to your other side, still standing in front of the glass door of the shop.

One step...two... three...

You took the steps backward and in flight mode, you turned around and started running. You need to find a safe place and quickly call Taeyong for help. Or maybe Beomgyu, they would definitely come for your rescue.

"Y/n!" Mingi's shout made few people to their heads turn towards the voice. You were cursing at yourself for being out at evening instead of morning. This wouldn't have happened.

It was clear that you couldn't outrun them but still a sudden burst of energy made it possible for you to run fast.

As you glanced over your shoulder, you see them calling your name, their voices mixed with concern and desperation. The adrenaline kicks in, and you push your legs to run faster, weaving through the crowd. You can hear their footsteps gaining on you, but you don't want to hear their apologies just yet.

Heck! You don't want to hear anything.

You duck into a side street, hoping to lose them. Your heart races, not just from the physical exertion, but from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside. Part of you wants to stop and listen, but another part craves the freedom of distance.

You pause for a moment, catching your breath behind a corner, and try to collect your thoughts. It was garage sort of area and there was a hiding spot where you quickly ducked in and dialed the number for help.

"Hello! Y/n...what happened?" Taeyong's voice, full of worry and confusion.

You pressed your palm over mouth to silent the sob and speak slowly, "Taeyong, they are here. They are after me. I'm scared. I don't want to go back to them, please. Help me."

You could hear him cursing at someone or something and he spoke up again, "stay wherever you are. I'm coming and if possible, try to run towards the house. Okay?"

"Yes...they are near me. I can hear them. Just come fast."

"I'm coming."

You take a deep breath and lean against the cool wall, listening to the sounds of the city blending with their distant calls. You know they're not far behind, their footsteps echoing through the street.

Pushing off the wall, you start running again, darting around corners and dodging pedestrians. Each turn feels like a small victory, a momentary escape. You can't shake the guilt creeping in, but the need for space overrides it.

"Why am I afraid of them? I didn't do any wrong. It's them who should be afraid of facing me but still I'm the weakling they know who is running away from them." You mumbled to yourself.

As you sprint, you find a park up ahead and head for the tree line, hoping the thick foliage will help you lose them. You duck behind a large tree, your heart pounding as you catch your breath, feeling both exhilarated and conflicted. What's next? Do you keep running, or is it time to confront what's really happening?

No you don't want to. You don't even want to face them so confronting is not an option here.

You watched in silence from your place, Seonghwa was not there in your sight but Jongho and Mingi were looking around for you frantically, trying to get a glimpse of you. You could see the desperation and frustration in the behavior and body language.

They went to a direction when Jongho got a call, opposite from yours. As soon as both of them were out of your sight, you breathed heavily and waited for few more minutes until the street was all clear.

Jongho pressed the call to his ears while walking with long steps along with Mingi, who was looking in every direction and calling out your name.

"Did you got her?" The other side of the line asked quietly.

Jongho rolled his eyes, "no. She was just in our grasp but she managed to escape."

"Why did you let her escape? It was you then why did she run away?"

"She was scared, Yeosang! She didn't even wanted me to touch her. If only you could have seen her then you wouldn't have been yelling at me." Jongho was frustrated. Hearing that Mingi glanced at the younger one.

He ran his fingers through his hairs, it's messed up...the situation is out of hand, no one is able to fix it. Even if they all try to make things better, oh..wait...what would they say?

That, y/n we were monsters back then...but we have changed, we care for you. We love you.

But after seeing Hongjoong, Wooyoung and Yeosang losing their mind, he was not sure if a normal talk or you should even come to face them.

They are literally out of control.

Yeosang being out of his mind, means San is out there thirsty for blood. He wouldn't let you to go anywhere, he would drag you back to them and keep you locked up again just to see his friends and brothers happy.

Everyone knew that yesterday it was San who followed you to the cafe and he heard your conversation with Beomgyu. It's better that he didn't make any scene out there.

Jongho cut the call and was about to step forward when Mingi grabbed his hand. The younger one glance at him, furrowing his brows.

"Don't you think we should let her go? She needs to stay away from us."

"What do you mean?" Jongho clenched his teeth.

Mingi stared at him blankly, "do you want to see her like that again? You hated her crying and scared of us. It's the same again. We should let her go free."

"I...I want her..."Jongho trailed off.

"I want her too but she won't be happy with us. She'll be happy with him."

"And who?" Jongho's question got no reply instead Mingi dialed a number.

"Hello...Beomgyu..."

>>>><<<<

As you catch your breath, a sudden roar of an engine breaks the stillness. Glancing over, you see someone pulling up in a car, his face a mix of determination and concern. Wooyoung's jaw was tensed and he dimmed the lights to stare at you. There were turmoil of emotions. You wanted to run away, far away but at the same time, you wanted to run into his arms, hit him, shout at him and ask him. Why did he treat you like that? Panic surges through you, and you sprint deeper into the park, weaving between trees and benches.

Just as you think you've found a moment of cover, you hear the sound of tires skidding and a bike approaching. Yunho, focused and intent, rides swiftly along the path, scanning for you.

And then there's the third—your tech-savvy boyfriend—no your worst enemy, who's tracking your device. You can almost sense him calculating your location, his eyes darting around as he follows the digital breadcrumbs.

You threw your phone away, it was ringing but the thing you missed it was Beomgyu who was calling you continuously.

With each passing second, the feeling of being cornered grows, but you push on, darting into a thick cluster of trees, hoping to momentarily evade all of them. Your heart races—not just from the chase, but from the realization that this is getting more complicated than you ever expected. You can't keep running forever; eventually, you'll have to face them.

You decided to get out of the park and bushes. For a moment, you met Yunho's raging and hurt eyes, there were some unspoken words and one of them, you could still hear.

Promise me, you'll come to me when you'll remember everything.

You step forward, towards him and he was confused. Though, he was not sure what to do, he turned off the engine of his bike. He watched you quietly, with no movement, only his eyes on your slow steps approaching him. You could only meet his eyes, peeking from the helmet.

A sound broke your trance, to your side in a distance, a car was approaching your direction. You realized who was driving it, but before it was in a distance for you to take a proper look of Wooyoung's face. It stopped in his track and turned off the engine. You glanced between him and Yunho to your front but your steps halted.

Gulping down the exhaustion and fear and rage, you shook your head, grabbing your hairs frantically and looked down. Tears flowing down your eyes, nothing reasonable was coming to your mind except running away from them. Still, a part of your heart craved for them.

You hated yourself for still feeling like that.

Raising your head, you glared at Yunho and Wooyoung, both were taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor. You stepped back and Yunho was quick to call out for you.

"Y/n, stop running. Please let us explain to you."

You shook your head, he will try to make you believe that you are overreacting and he will again lock you up in the house and would force you to believe what he and they will try to say.

Wooyoung rolled down his window, peeking his head out of it, "please y/n. Come to us. If you're afraid then please tell us what you are thinking. You promised me that you won't run away."

"You said you'll come to me. Then please come here. I'm waiting for you." Yunho said and extended his gloved hand.

As far as you could made out, both were wearing black leather outfits, blending well with the surrounding.

"Y/n-"

You didn't let Yunho to complete his sentence when you turned around and darted off.

You could hear their yelling and revving of the engines. You need to get away. Your phone. Oh shit. In fear, Yeosang was tracking it, you threw your phone away at the park. You cursed so badly. Atleast Taeyong and Star or maybe Beomgyu could know from your whereabouts. Now they would be more worried if they don't get you on the call.

You dashed down the narrow path, branches whipping at your arms and legs as you pushed yourself to run faster. Fear surged through you, a visceral instinct driving you away from Yunho and Wooyoung. Their voices echoed behind you—Wooyoung,s requests mingling with Yunho's concerned shouts.

"Wait! Just talk to us!" Yunho called out, his tone a mixture of frustration and worry. But all you felt was a desperate need to escape.

You rounded a bend in the trail, glancing back for just a moment, and that's when it happened—a sharp jolt as your foot snagged on a protruding rock. Time seemed to slow as you stumbled, arms flailing for balance. Before you could react, you hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from your lungs.

"Come on!" Wooyoung shouted, slamming the car door and sprinting toward you, the sound of his footsteps echoing in your ears. Yunho jumped off his bike, panic etched across his face.

You pushed yourself up, wincing from the impact, but the fear hadn't dissipated. "Please, just leave me alone!" you yelled, scrambling to your feet, ready to run again.

"Stop! We're not here to hurt you!" Yunho urged, his voice softening as he approached, hands raised in a placating gesture. You could see the genuine concern in his eyes, but it only fueled your anxiety further.

Wooyoung reached you, breathless but determined. "We want to help, not fight! Just listen!" His words rushed out, each one filled with sincerity.

You backed away instinctively, heart pounding in your chest. The distance between you felt like a chasm, one you didn't know how to bridge. Their intentions seemed genuine, but the fear you felt was overwhelming. Your mind raced with thoughts of how this had spiraled out of control. All you wanted was space to breathe, to think.

"Why are you scared?" Yunho asked, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "We're not mad at you. We just want to talk."

The tension in your shoulders started to ease slightly as you took a shaky breath. Maybe you didn't need to run after all. The urgency in their voices hinted at something deeper, something you hadn't wanted to confront. But standing there, facing them, you realized that avoiding the situation wouldn't make it go away.

"I didn't know how to handle it," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you were angry with me."

This is all their act, isn't it?

Wooyoung stepped forward, closing the gap just a little. "We were worried about you. We just want to understand what's going on."

Looking between the two of them, you saw their concern was genuine. Maybe it was time to stop running. You hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. "Okay, listen y/n" he said slowly, a flicker of resolve igniting within you. "Let's talk."

You just stared at him, not replying anything.

There was a hope that finally you were letting them to explain the situation but you proved it wrong the moment you stepped back.

"No......I don't want to talk."

"Y/n please..."

But this time, your movement was restricted by Yunho who grabbed your wrist and made you turn to him. Looking around for help, you couldn't see anyone but in the end, you met his eyes, his name automatically rolling out of your tongue.

"Yunho..."

"I'm sorry, baby. The things we did-"

"What are you even sorry for?" You turned to look at Wooyoung, "what about you? Is there something fir which you feel guilty about?"

"Everything..." he blurted out. But Yunho kept quiet, just staring at you and holding your hand firmly.

"Then do me a favor and let me go."

"I can't, Y/n. I can't leave you, please. I love you." Yunho's tears spilled down the face. Your fingers itched to wipe off the tears instead you curled your fingers and glared at both of them.

"Isn't this how you kept me locked up?" You scoffed and continued, "you both promised me your love and protection. You know what, you both are psychopaths...monsters. I hate you!"

Yunho's grip falter on your wrist and you took that as a opportunity to snatch it away but Wooyoung quickly cupped your cheek, his eye searching for a little ray of feelings for him in you, "no, y/n...please. You should hate me...hate us but don't go."

You pried his hands away from you and pushed him, steeping back and pointing your fingers at them, "don't take a step forward. Leave me alone. Why can't you both understand? Leave me."

"You were always alone, y/n. We just wanted to be a part of your life. We love you." Yunho's voice wavered.

"But I don't!"

"I loved you all, I really loved you but you all played with my feelings. You all took the advantage of my innocence and befriended me. Why? Just because of my money? You could have asked me, I would have given everything to you. But why you had to lie to me? I had trusted you."

"We didn't lie, y/n. We loved you and we still do. We didn't fake our feelings for you. I know it's complicated but there was a reason to befriend you but our love was genuine... the friendship was genuine. We really accepted you as part of our friends group and everything." Wooyoung was saying in a single breath and he was about to cry.

You shook your head, not believing any of their words. Licking your lips, you again took the speed, running towards the only open direction. That's not the way to your house but still, you want to be anywhere except near them.

But to your fear, the road leads to the mountain cliff. The same place where you went last time in the hope of escape and then someone hit your head with something. Rest you remember waking up in hospital, where you were with doctors and then they told you it was all because you were sick and you were unconscious and hit the ground.

That's how Mr. Kim took you to Mr. Choi's house. So the man you remembered you used to spend time was Mr. Kim. Where is he now?

Wiping the tears, you still went forward to the direction, if anything, your fear of height and this particular cliff shouldn't be a hindrance to your way. You will hide somewhere there or threaten them to jump off.

The same path and the same way you are running like that. Your hand was burning with the earlier scratch when you fell on the ground.

Reaching the ground, the dark surrounding, only dim lights of the post and the moonlight was illuminating the place. You could see them just caught up with you in their own rides, you still stepped forward, but you soon stopped.

In a distance, to your front there stood Hongjoong, leaning against a car with his hands tucked inside his pocket and staring at you. To his side, Seonghwa was leaning against his bike. They both were staring at you, the same desperation in their gazes.

The other two vehicles stopped behind you and to your side you heard your name.

"Y/n..."

Snapping your head to your side, you could see Yeosang and San getting out of a car and tried to step forward but when you step back, they stopped.

The only side where there was no one, you tried to ran to that direction but soon three people appeared running towards you, Mingi and Jongho and with them, Beomgyu.

You quickly ran towards him and hugged him tightly.

"Guy, please I want to go home."

He placed a kiss on your head and rubbed your back, "yes yes. I am here to take you away."

"Where is Taeyong?"

"I don't know, I thought he is here but he is not picking up my phone."

The other eight eyes were watching you feeling comfortable in his arms. They wanted to be him. They hated that even in this situation there was a pin of jealousy in their hearts. This is time to apologize and let them say everything not to feel jealous.

When you heard Hongjoong called out your name, you hugged Beomgyu tighter.

"Who told you I am here?" You asked him.

Beomgyu looked at Mingi and Jongho and said, "them."

Slowly, you looked up. And then glanced at the two of them where he was looking at.

"Why did you trust them?" You asked him in disbelief.

"Because they wanted me to take you away from them."

Yeosang was about to launch at them when San grabbed his hand.

You stared at both of them, "why?"

When a car sped up in the scene and stopped in the middle of all of you. The one who was driving was wearing a mask and a black cap so it was impossible to recognize.

He got out of the car and shut the door. Folding his hand and glancing at each one of you. The outline of the stranger was somewhat very familiar and after putting pressure on your memory, you recognized.

The one you met at the restaurant where you went to date with Seonghwa.

The man noticed your eyes and that you could recognize him.

He titled his head to the side and chuckled, "lets the story begins."

"Or should I say, let's end it for good."

Guess who!!!!

NEXT

—————————————————————————

Taglist :

@mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @anyamaris @yeoobin @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @brrrkdslek-personal @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @luhwaine @ilove-taeyong @dinonuguaegi @endeav0rsb1tch @loveforred @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @sousydive @aliona124754 @tunaasan @iykyunho @jennifermakmur

(open! dm me/ send ask/reply here)

[colorisbyshe]

June's Monthly Music (PART DEUX!!)(I KNOW ITS TOO LONG IM SORRY)

Click here for part one (highlights being Kaytranada and Charli's albums)(listen to Cactus Water by Channel Tres who was on Kaytranada's album)

RECENT MUSIC:

Goat Girl's motorway is for the girlies into... the indie girlies. Music to reflect on your life to.

JESSIE WARE!!!!!!! & ROMY's LIFT YOU UP! Feel good dance track. Just vibrant and joyful. What a lovely way to end Pride month.

Normani FINALLY released her album. Not mindblowing (and some of the teaser versions of songs are better) but it's enjoyable to listen to all the way through. Highlights are "All Yours" which feels luxurious, "Take my Time" which is sweet and pleasant, "Insomnia" which has a sprinkling of Daft Punk in some of the vocoding, and a more energetic "Little Secrets" which closes the album out. This is a solid debut which promises greater things down the line. Good sensibilities, just needs a bit more oomph.

Spinning off of that, check out "Endless Night" by Maeta.

Tove Lo & SG Lewis are back at it again with a mini EP! Let Me Go OH OH sounds the way Kylie's Love at First Sight MV looks, if that makes sense. Busy Girl is for Cunts on the Runway. Heat is for dancing at the club. Desire is a club mix track that is generic and yet perfectly calculated--like a chocolate chip cookie made up premium ingredients.

Megan Thee Stallion has an album out and narrowing this down to a handful of tracks is hard, even with singles excluded! Rattle is scathing and yet too cool for the haters. Down Stairs DJ combined with Where Them Girls At has convinced me she needs to collab with Cupcakke*. Worthy is summery and poppy. Spin with Victoria Monet will have you doing body rolls without even realizing, Otaku Hot Girl is a fun sample... I forgive her for insulting Sasuke avis I know where she's coming from lol.

Nayeon's album is kinda hit or miss to me but I love ABCD's bigger than life energy and the dance break in the MV. HalliGalli is just like refreshing fruit punch on a hot day

Despite not feeling the title track, Red Velvet did pull through with some music you can just float around to, Last Drop and Night Drive would be nice to wade into the ocean and stare up at the stars to. Bubble has an almost 80s Jpop veneer to it. And Love Arcade gives the album some energy it very much needed, lol. Not my fave RV project but not the bummer I expected!

She, this blog's namesake, has a new mini album! Spectral Touch and With You are expansions of She's Chiptune sound but maybe with some appeal you might find in Kavinsky's music--not the same sound at all but that sort of "driving at night through neon lights" type vibe.

The Used has a new album out, it's more of the same, but I loved the video game trailer bombasticness of Depression Personified and the return to an older whininess (said with fondness) in Before I Leave. Emos, check it out.

Catharsis by 9mm Parabellum Bullet is more rock music. Japanese and surprisingly melodic, this track is haunting. Maybe Buck-Tick enjoyers should check it out.

If you liked the Tove Lo ep, check out Baddy on the Floor by Jamie xx. Honey Dijon absolutely elevates this track into transcendence.

Amaarae said "Fountain Baby Part 2!!!" this! is a swooning afrobeats track, wanted is a song that crawls to you and up your body and grabs your hips, and sweeeet is such a natural evolution of Fountain Baby. This whole project is worth a listen!

TuNGSTeN is by Hiroyuki Sawano (TECHNICALLY a different project than my other shout out) and it's just evocative and makes me clutch at my chest but also wanna run.

Power of Two by Victoria Monet. Idk why she's doing a Star Wars song but... fuck, she hit it out of the fucking park. It's like of Kendrick/Sza's All the Stars had a dark, more cosmic child.

Lynch. has some more Japanese metalcore for anyone interested. Standouts are the frantic Un Deux Trois and A Fierce Blaze while the track Remains might appeal more to the crowd who wants more of the melodic bits that Catharis had. Buck-Tick fans I'm saying try out Remains. Not as good but you'll see the vibe

Getting no Sleep by Tinashe is a surprising follow up to Nasty but suuch a good follow up to her album BB/Angel and its more cerebral elements.

"Know You Did" by bongjeingan is a korean indie rock song not afraid to get WEIRD with it. This is a song that is everything all at once. Goes surprisingly hard at the end.

Somethin Bout You by The Knocks and Holiday87 ft Betsy feels like a dream of the 80s had by someone who passed out at the club after too much fruity drinks.

"Security" by Raleigh Ritchie (AKA LOUIS FROM IWT!V!) is a a more lowkey track than some on this but the lyrics are relatable and I remain charmed by his blunt writing style--he gets to the heart of the matter and carves at it.

OLDER MUSIC I'VE BEEN INTO:

"Shout" SawanoHiroyuki[nZk]. Type of song that worked great for a Trigger adventure anime (but not dunmeshi lol).

Selecta by Chase & Status ft Stefflon Don. Dancehall drum & bass great for playing a first person shooter. Click heads and bop.

9m88 was recced to me and while I haven't explored much, "Love Rain" is crooning and jazzy and a song that exists outside of time.

A throwback older than some of my followers Sonique's Sky is just good eurodance.

*this month was too stacked and i haven't listened her new album but i WILL!!

[strafepanzer]

fangs | g.jaegerjaquez

chapter one: shit | chapter two (tba) | chapter three (tba)

▸ ▸ ▸ warnings: dark content, 18+! a/b/o stuff (pheromones, fangs, alpha-omega, animalistic tendencies), blood (a LOT), biting, drugs, gangs, fighting, (more to be added as chapters progress)

▸ ▸ ▸ wordcount: 3k+

▸ ▸ ▸ a/n: this has been in the works for a while but i finally have a bit of energy to put into it, so that's fun! also ive taken parts of omegaverse lore and made it my own, so if things get confusing, feel free to ask questions! thanks for reading!! ♡

“Shit,” he hisses, tongue running over the split in his lower lip. His glare intensifies as he shoots it over his shoulder, landing on the little turd shaking in his boots, wooden baseball bat held tight in two white-knuckled fists.

“I didn’t even do that! Y-you bit your lip with those freakish fricken fangs!” The kid argues, blue eyes wide with terror, that distinct childish whine caught in his throat.

“Right, so you swinging that bat at me had no impact on the state of my face at all?” He turns his body towards the boy, cracks his neck as he rolls his shoulders. “Sounds like a crock a’ shit, squirt.”

“Uncle will be mad if you hit me!” He reasons, knees knocking together.

“Oh, but you can hit me?” Grimmjow raises his brows, wiping the blood with a knuckle as he stalks towards the kid.

“You’re the gang’s Mad Dog! You’re supposed to be too good for me to hit!” He frowns, stepping back as the predator steps forward.

Grimmjow grins then, his hulking canines pressing uncomfortably into his lower lip, the one on the left shining with blood. “Maybe I wanted a reason to discipline the young master.”

“Jaegerjaquez,” Tousen appears out of nowhere, like usual. “Boss has a job for you.” Is all he says before turning to the kid. “You know how your mother feels about you using that bat for violence, young master.”

The kid’s pouting, obviously happy to have been spared, but upset that he’s being scolded and losing his babysitter-slash-impromptu-martial-arts-instructor all in one fell swoop.

“Where’s he want me?” Grimmjow straightens, rubs the sweat from his hands down the thighs of his faded blue jeans, re-pops the collar of his barely buttoned Hawaiian shirt. Tousen regards him coldly through the lenses of ridiculously priced glasses, as usual, like Grimmjow is worse than the dirt beneath his stupid black leather loafers.

“The usual place.” Tousen turns his nose up at Grimmjow, and gestures back to the kid. “You need to stop sneaking out of the house when Starrk falls asleep; let’s go.” He orders, heading towards the winding forest path that leads back to the main house.

“We were training.” The kid argues back, pouting. “Everyone always talks about how strong the Mad Dog is, and I’m gonna be stronger.”

“Strength isn’t necessarily how hard you hit, or how many bones you break, Kaiden. Remember that.” Tousen sends Grimmjow one last look before the pair disappear behind the yellowing Japanese Maples, the young master waving frantically and promising to return.

This makes Grimmjow grin, smirk elongating as he heads back into his shack, imagining how Aizen’s prissy bitch of a left hand man has to listen to the kid praise him. What makes the young master’s idolisation of him that much sweeter is the fact that the little brat hasn’t presented yet; Tousen can’t blame the kid on being affected by Grimmjow’s Ridiculously Potent Dominant Alpha Pheromones, has to accept that he just likes the way he is. Thinks he’s fucking cool.

Betas, as a rule, tend to harbour a little bit of hatred towards alphas or omegas, especially in their line of work, but Tousen takes the goddamn cake.

With a spring in his step, Grimmjow packs a duffel. His little house— if you can call it that— is a bit of a mess, so finding what he needs is a pain in the ass, but he manages. Ten year old Motorola Razr (in ice blue), wallet, and switchblade are all on his bed, still there from being dumped out early this morning when he got home from a job. His first aid kit, pheromone patches, and inhibitors are all in the stall he calls a bathroom, and— he checks the package— he’s running low on patches. The last thing on his mental list— his knuckle dusters— are in the kitchen sink, still caked in dried blood, but he throws them in the bag anyway.

He leaves his leather jacket and just opts for his keys; the summer’s been long and hot, and he loves the way the air feels on his skin as he speeds the streets of Karakura.

+

Ichimaru’s Ikeman Fantasy is a front that even the blind can see, yet it’s been untouched by the law for years. Grimmjow parks his bike in its usual spot, holds the duffle by the handle and tosses it over his shoulder, before strolling past Yammy and the other bouncers, and in through the front door.

Smells like easy omega in here.

“Afternoon, Jaegerjaquez!” Nel hollers, tits bouncing as she waves from her spot behind the bar. They never used to get along, but the years of living and working in close proximity forced them into a friendship of sorts. Now they dye each other’s hair.

“Nel,” he nods, duffle landing on the bar with a thud. “Aizen here?”

“‘Course he is,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “He’s always here.”

“Like you.” He grins. “You’re part of the furniture, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighs, nodding back towards the kitchen. “Someone’s gotta keep Nnoitra in place. I do miss you being here, though.” Her nose scrunches up. “All the new boys are boring.” There’s a bit of bite behind her bark, and usually that’s what he looks for in a woman, but she’s never affected him. He can’t get hard for other alphas; all part and parcel of being a dominant himself. Omegas or nothing.

“Maybe if I was better at lip service.” He shrugs, tossing his feline stare over his shoulder to sus out the place.

“Or if you were worse at brawling,” she leans on the bar, those too big breasts pushing up and together in a way that makes them look like they might pop out of her shirt. “They’ve started calling you The Grim around here, you know? You come and go, then someone shows up dead.”

“That’s dramatic; I don’t kill people.” Always.

“Keep your secrets, Jaegerjaquez, I don’t want them.” Nel shakes her head, perks up a bit when someone else comes in.

It’s too early to open, and Grimmjow has no idea who this girl is. She’s cute, nervous-looking. Undoubtedly omega with her candy-apple scent.

“You’re getting girls in here now?” He asks when the candy apple omega is escorted through the lounge and into the back rooms.

“Yeah, Gin’s wanting to expand with the beauties.” She whispers, leaning close. “But you know Aizen: don't fix it if it ain’t broke.”

“Fox face wants to bring girls in here?” Grimmjow balks, a little too loud. “To work?” He questions, voice dropping.

“Yeah, for the back room stuff.” Nel looks undoubtedly uncomfortable. The main draw for the club is that it’s catered to women; less violent outbursts, less brawling, less police attention.

“Huh, never would’a picked it.” Grimmjow sighs, brows raising. “Matsumoto’s surely against it.”

“Yeah, so’s Ai—“

“You’re here,” Aizen’s voice isn’t loud, but it's commanding. There’s a quiet cruelty there that keeps people on their toes, a suppressed dominance that he’s master at concealing. “Come, Grimmjow, I have a task for you.” He’s across the lounge, standing in front of his office, the door right next to the one the candy apple omega disappeared behind.

“Sure thing,” he nods, suddenly professional. He gives Nel one last look before grabbing his duffel and slinking off towards his boss— The Boss.

+

Aizen’s office is the epitome of old European money; velvet chaise, dark filigree wallpaper, gold accents, cherry stained hardwood. Grimmjow feels like a stray dog attempting domestication each time he stalks into the room, can’t bear to sit lest he destroy or dirty something. The Boss doesn’t even offer him a seat anymore, just places a lowball of whiskey in his hand and starts on the task at hand.

“There’s a small motorcycle gang that’s started to sell on our turf,” he says, opening a beige folder and tossing its contents on his desk. “Need you to rough ‘em up a bit before they get too big for their boots.”

“Kids?” Grimmjow scowls, picking up the pile of photos and tossing them back to the desk as he looks at them. They’re in their late teens to early twenties, with their black leather jackets and little white baggies. “You’re sending me to deal with kids?”

Aizen sighs and sits down in his polished leather chair, taking a sip of his own whiskey. “You’re right.” He nods, leaning over the table and picking up one of the photos Grimmjow’s tossed down. “Normally, I’d send Yammy, or even Tousen— if I wanted to deal with it diplomatically— but this kid,” he holds up the picture of a blonde, his head tossed back in laughter, canine-like fangs protruding out of his mouth. “Is a dominant like you.”

He takes the photo from Aizen and looks it over, then goes through the ones he tossed and picks up a clearer one of his face. “He’s not even wearing patches,” Grimmjow shakes his head, glaring at the glossy photos. “Just swinging his dick around like he owns the place.”

“Exactly,” Aizen stands and gathers the photos, holds his hand out for the ones Grimmjow’s still scrutinising. “I’ll send the lot of them to your phone.”

“Boss, I can’t see shit on my phone,”

“I told you to buy a new one.”

“Why fix something if it ain’t broke? Besides, I got the little fucker’s face memorised, don’t sweat it.”

“They hang around by the train station at the end of the street most nights. Rough them up a bit, feel free to knock some teeth out.” Aizen smiles then, golden eyes shining as he shows his own fangs.

To the naked eye, he looks like a beta or omega with his average-sized canines, but Grimmjow knows better. Knows he’s had them filed down; that he does so on the regular.

Dangerous fucker he is.

+

After sticking around for a couple more drinks with Nel, he pockets a knuckleduster and leaves her with the rest of his shit. "I'll come get it when I'm done with the job." He drawls, tapping his scent blockers to test their saying power�� excellent, considering he replaced them after Aizen dismissed him.

"Don't kill too many, Grim." She calls a little too loud, smiles a little too broadly. It draws attention from the other patrons, the few older women sitting at and around the bar suddenly interested in him.

"Don't lose my shit." He glares back, fang grinding on the still fresh wound from this morning when he tenses his jaw.

Undeterred, she waves him off with a smile, before undoubtedly weaving tales about his murderous escapades to the nosey hags asking too many questions. He doesn’t stick around long enough to confirm or deny his own suspicions.

The damp heat of early summer clings to Grimmjow like a second skin; seeing others unaffected— still dressing in light layers and boots, some with scarves and gloves— makes him feel a little claustrophobic, even outside in the streets. He knows it’s him who’s wrong, knows his medication has side effects and his second gender has drawbacks as well as perks, but still it’s enough to plaster that scowl to his face. At least it makes people avoid him, gives him a little bubble when it’s crowded, even in rush hour.

Hands shoved deep in his pockets, that glare is set straight ahead. He’s on a mission, and it’s something he’s not too happy about. Sure, he’s used to cleaning up Aizen’s messes, used to brawling, bleeding, biting, and bitching; but dealing with pups never ends well. These kids probably think they’re kings, think that their blonde ringleader is gonna make them rich or famous, or both.

Probably both.

Flashing fangs like that around here, though… that’s gonna get you killed.

Grimmjow’s nothing if not morally grey, however, so seeing the little posse down an alley on the way to his destination brings a rush of excitement. The sooner he can get this over with, the better.

“Oi,” he calls, entering the alley. “Heard you’re selling.”

“Who’s askin’?” One steps away from the wall— not the blonde— and tilts his chin up at Grimmjow. It takes all the willpower in the world not to match that snarl with one of his own, but he just shrugs and tries to act innocent, keeps his shoulders hunched so he seems smaller than his six-four frame.

“Just some guy,” he drawls, keeping his fangs concealed. “Why, you discriminate?”

The kid snarls at him again, infuriated, “Discrimin—”

“Cool it, Tetsu,” the blonde finally steps forward, and his pheromones are no joke. It’s been a hot minute since Grimmjow’s come across a dominant who doesn’t conceal what he is, and he has to physically stop the warning growl that wants to vibrate up his throat. “This old man just needs a hit, don’tcha grandpa?” He grins, condescending lilt to his brow.

“Nah, you got me all wrong, kiddo,” Grimmjow stands tall— taller than the blonde by at least five inches— and cracks his knuckles, apathetic grin turned evil. “I just need to relay a message to you little fuckers about who’s turf you’re selling on.”

The blonde postures, baring his fangs as his pupils blow wide, “Bring it on, old man!” He yells, pheromones turning the alley sour and crippling his friends.

Grimmjow says nothing, just mirrors the young alpha, and roars.

His pals throw up, one passes out, and the blonde’s pupils revert before his fight or flight kicks in, and he launches himself at Grimmjow. He knows the fight would be over if he just removed his scent patches, but where’s the fun in that? What kind of Grim Reaper would he be if he let it end at that?

Blondie lands a hit to Grimmjow’s jaw, and he feels it crack his bone. Adrenaline and anger mask the pain, and in an instant he’s above the kid, landing blow after blow after blow to his face with his bare knuckles, colouring his face crimson in a matter of seconds.

“Old man?” Grimmjow grunts sarcastically, the adrenaline subsiding with each moment of non-resistance. “This old man better not see you on this side of the tracks with intent to sell again, or I’ll rip those useless canines straight outta your face, got it?” He finishes, holding the blonde up by the front of his bloodied leather jacket and glaring down at his swollen, weepy face. Blondie can only groan in pain before going limp in Grimmjow’s grasp.

He drops him to the cement and glances up at the rest of the gang. With both alphas done with their brawl, the pheromones in the air have thinned, and the rest of the kids are in the process of regaining their composure.

“I fucking mean it,” Grimmjow continues with his warning. “I know you think you’re fucking invinci—”

He’s frozen by a sharp stinging sensation in the side of his neck, and when he swipes at it, something small, cylindrical, and plastic hits the ground next to his knee and rolls away from him.

A syringe.

They’ve drugged him.

“Run!” Someone screams from behind him, lurching with speed and strength Grimmjow knows wouldn’t be possible from anyone other than another dominant alpha. He grabs for Blondie, tosses his limp body over his shoulder and takes off down the alley as the rest of the gang scatters.

Grimmjow stumbles as he attempts to give chase, his vision swimming and heart pounding. He stops and crouches there in the alley behind a dumpster, closing his eyes and trying his goddamn hardest to regulate himself, to pinpoint the problem. His limbs are fine, and there’s no numbness, so that’s a plus, but he’s dizzy as all hell, and—

Slap.

He opens his eyes to see one of his scent blockers— a shriveled-looking skin-toned bandaid— lying there on the cement like it’d been used more than a few times. But he knows that’s not the case, knows that was a brand new fucking blocker and that it should’ve lasted him until at least tomorrow morning even if he wanted to sleep with it on.

He reaches for the one at the other side of his neck, and that one, too, slides off, looking a little more than worse for wear.

His pheromones have sweat the patches off.

This hasn’t happened to Grimmjow since he was going through goddamn puberty and the doctors couldn’t find the right dosage of inhibitors for him. He’s early thirties now, has been on the same goddamn pills since, and has never missed a dose. If there’s one thing Grimmjow cannot fucking stand, it’s an alpha who can’t control his fucking ruts.

And now he’s one of them.

Those shifty little fuckers have thrown him into rut.

“Motherfuckers!” He roars, knuckles meeting cement out of pure frustration, the pain that’s supposed to come with maiming oneself simply not present.

Grimmjow gets up and braces himself against the wall, breathing heavily and glancing between the mouth of the alley and the direction in which those little shits ran off. It’d be absolutely insane for them to want to stick around and try jump him, especially considering Blondie wasn’t using blockers, so there’s no doubt the end of the alley isn’t a completely dead end. Heading towards the street would only end in mayhem, so he stumbles deeper into the alley, using the brick wall for support when the cramping takes over and he needs a moment to breathe.

Fuck, he’s forgotten how this felt; forgotten just how base he goes when his hormones are running rampant, forgot how primal he is. He’s hungry. For food, for sex, for a good fucking fight.

His cock aches.

Still, he fights it. He’s not completely gone yet, but he can feel it pulling at him, irritating him, can feel it tickling his brain like a loose thread; one tug of it, and he’ll be feral. He’s exhausted, fighting the urge to pull the string, finds himself panting as he clutches at the spray paint covered brick with a bloodied hand, sweat dripping into his eyes, plastering powder blue hair to his forehead.

He briefly wonders if Aizen knew that they had this little ace up their sleeve, before deciding— with a baleful chuckle he didn’t know he still had in him— that he doesn’t even wanna know.

The last thing he sees before the world goes black is his own reflection in a shiny metal baseball bat

[sitp-recs]

Eager for the Sky by @oknowkiss

Harry/Draco, minor Harry/Ron and Draco/Blaise (2022, Mature, 35k)

It was announced, just as the Triwizard Tournament had been, at the start of term feast. A year-long, international Quidditch varsity match — the inaugural Wizarding Academy Cup. In which Harry is Hogwarts' star Seeker, Draco is on the bench, and they both have a thing or two to learn about playing for the same team.

Draco hated that, the way Potter would sneak up on him, proving he’d been listening. He had always seemed to be caught up in his own head, never paying attention to anything or anyone but himself, but now that Draco was starting to know him, he was beginning to see the truth of Potter.

When I started this blog over two years ago, I’d write (smaller, but still) recs for every fic I liked. At some point I was reccing up to 3 fics a day and started bookmarking them all to keep track of my own recs - maybe that’s why I got more than 600 bookmarks lol - and it was really fun and fulfilling, but it also demanded A LOT of time and energy. As they both became scarce, I changed strategies and decided to only rec fics that touched me in a more personal way. These days I write recs mostly on a whim; it happens less and less because I’m not reading as much, sure, but also because it needs to be a frantic urge, almost like a trance, and it needs to hit me right after I’m finished a fic otherwise it won’t be fresh in my mind.

I’ve wanted to rec something from E for so long and after being left intrigued and impressed by any day now and licence to kill (two solid recs if you haven’t read those yet!) I couldn’t see what was holding me back. Now I ask myself if I had been waiting for Eager for the Sky. And not necessarily because it’s the perfect fit for my tastes - in fact, I barely read or care for 8th year fics nowadays - but because this fic found me at the moment I needed it the most. Coming back from a brief hiatus (that felt longer than life itself) right before Christmas last year, I can say that reading this was a refreshing and lovely experience, but also magical in many ways. And funnily enough, this rec has been sitting in my drafts, half-finished, since January. Once again, something I couldn’t figure out was holding me back until I saw this gorgeous binding post by @a-gay-old-time (go check it right now!!) and I accidentally found out that last week was E’s one year fandomversary! Perfect timing to wrap this up and post it as a humble homage to one of the authors whose talent I’ve enjoyed and admired the most in the past year. What a gift to have you in this fandom, and what a privilege to read this incredible 8th year romance!

Way beyond the delight of watching Draco and Harry fall in love over the course of a (very cool and inventive) Quidditch championship, I was so touched by the amount of tenderness, youth and heart this story coveys. There is something unbearably sweet about an enemies to friends to lovers journey that explores the wonders of being young and free to flirt, experience and discover. I could feel the joy of falling in love all over again through every line here, through every knowing smile and surreptitious touch. The slow burn is masterfully done in a way that never feels empty, boring or dragged. Every little moment brings new discoveries about each other and is important to bring them together as friends, and then as lovers.

It’s worth mentioning that there’s a fair amount of longing, UST and some infuriating delicious cockblocking but somehow the way it’s written and the context it’s given make the experience even sweeter and more rewarding. I was in no rush to see this over and found it very charming that they saw value in wanting, teasing, flirting, chasing. Because I really ready young Drarry I had almost forgotten how fun a pining Draco can be in all his teenage complexity, capable of signaling confidence, vulnerability, inadequacy and tenderness all at once.

His emotions felt so very real I could feel a lump in my throat, and I was especially moved by his genuine response to Harry’s prior involvement with Ron (Be still my Rarry heart!!! For those wondering: this is a minor but significant plot point that made my heart ache and grow twice its size, I’m so soft for this brOTP! By the way - side Rarry & Blaco? A fic after my own heart!). Even more brilliant is the fact that E published Eager for the Sky and July Tree pretty much back to back and these two fantastic 8th year tales complement each other perfectly. They got a very different tone from her usual edgy “mature Drarry” which I also love - and maybe that’s why I was caught off guard by how fast I felt emotionally connected to this softer, more innocent brand of love. Not to mention that superb art by @upthehillart - killing me softly as per usual, with the ultimate teenage Drarry headcanon what a treat!!

This fic was exactly what I needed and it gave me the delicious catharsis I was looking for without really knowing. It pulled me back into the fandom with its light, easy, unpretentious young romance, sprinkled with some excellent dialogue and charming banter that will make you laugh out loud at their sass, plus a sweet and delightful mix of curious, inexperienced but extremely insightful and lovable characters. I’m so happy I found this fic and that I got to write a rec for it! Thank you E for sharing this beauty and so many other fantastic stories with us - I’m delighted to share this space with you and can’t wait to see what comes next 💜

Read on AO3

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

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Chapter XVIII: I Gave My Life Away

pre warning: tags contain some non specific spoilers

warnings: 18+ MDNI mentions of a suicide attempt, alcoholism, narcotics addiction, depression. Adult content not meant for people under the age of 18. (spoiler for next tag!) Grinding/heavy petting, an inkling of smut. Angst, hurt feelings, heavy subject matter. reminder that this is fiction and i do not condone the actions of my characters! afab!gn!reader, they/them pronouns, rockstar!eddie, use of y/n lol i did not use y/n once!, pet names

a/n: i am… so sorry. that’s all i’ll say for now.

Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.

—

January 1991

Eddie’s POV

“Eddie? Eddie!” The voice is familiar, but too far away. He can’t see anything beyond a spinning figure, but he feels the harsh slapping on his face before someone drags him by his armpits into the bathtub. “Cmon, man, please.”

Then there’s water, and it’s cold, and Eddie’s trying to move but he can’t, he can only cough and choke as the shower spray gets into his nose and mouth.

“Oh fuck, thank fucking God.” Then there are footsteps, and Eddie’s hauled out of the bathroom on a stretcher, the frantic voice following closely behind.

-

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

“Ed, they’re looking for you. Two minutes.”

Eddie nods, waving the security off and turning back to her. “You’re still in Ohio, then?”

“Yeah, seems it. Nothing really goin’ on here, though.”

“Isn’t that kind of a good thing?”

She shrugs, her lips pursed. “Guess so, if it means you’re here.”

Eddie chuckles shyly. “Well, I should get moving, or Steve will have my head.

She nods eagerly, wrapping herself tightly around Eddie’s torso, causing him to shift uncomfortably. He hasn’t seen her since before, and he realizes now he’s not that person anymore. It causes his heart to skip with anxious energy.

“See ya.” She sends him a wink, and he waves as she turns on her heel to venture back into the crowd.

The security guard is still there, humming the chorus to Under The Bridge as it plays out of the house speakers, leaning against the wall as he waits for Eddie to finish with the pretty, dainty girl he’s with, and Eddie returns to him like a scolded child. “Alright, let’s go.”

“That your girl?” He asks, making small talk with the rockstar he has likely no interest in.

Eddie shakes his head. “God, no. A friend, maybe. Not even that much, not anymore.”

“Guy like you doesn’t need to dwell on that, man. Sure you got plenty of ladies lined up for a chance with you.”

He snorts, amused by this guy’s casualty. “You’d be surprised.”

The guard escorts Eddie all the way to the stage, where Steve is seething and huffing about, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Sorry, sorry. Ran into someone.”

Steve’s expression softens slightly at the mention. “Was it-“

“Yeah. But it’s fine, really. Civil, even.”

“Right. In that case, I’m still mad at you,”

“Sure, of course. Can we hold off on my discipline until after the show?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, breathing deeply as if to prevent himself from taking a swing at Eddie. “Fine. Go.”

Eddie bows his head to thank him, and takes his place next to his bandmates, who’d been left waiting restlessly for their frontman, again. “Hey-“

“Shut up.” Jeff silences him. “Don’t wanna hear it.” And it’s fair. They shouldn’t have to listen to his excuses. He’s supposed to be working on himself, and all he’s managed to do is piss off the people that matter to him most. The house lights dim, and Eddie watches as the crowd grow feral, shoving toward the stage, shaking the metal barricades standing between them and the stage. His heart thumps in his ears, in time with the crowd’s eager chants of “COFFIN, COFFIN,” a command he’s inclined to obey. It drags him forward, led by his band onto the stage to present themselves to a mass of people that want to tear them apart.

The stage lights up with the first chord, and Eddie hears the audience beyond his monitor. He looks back to Gareth, who’s awestruck at the noise, then to Jeff who holds his hand over his chest, genuinely thanking these people for coming. Eddie wants to feel it, too. The warmth these people seem to offer his friends, but he’s somewhere else. He can’t get used to it, like he’s wearing shoes half a size too small. It makes him shift uncomfortably inside his skin, constantly feeling the eyes of thousands on him, relying on him, there for him. It’s then that he realizes he’s sober on stage, for the first time in five years.

He’d stuck to his word, now twenty four hours without consuming a drop of alcohol. He feels his chest tighten, like a hand made of knives has broken open his ribcage to squeeze his heart until it pops. His lungs will fill with his own blood and he’ll choke, he watches as it flashes before him, a panic stricken fantasy but Eddie wouldn’t say unrealistic.

His friends are looking at him. The crowd is calming with their increased confusion; a late start and now a strange, empty pause. He has to fill it. He can’t find you, and he’s taking too long, and it’s starting to confuse his band, so he shouts into the blackness “HELLO, COLUMBUS!” and the room combusts with the release of tension. “I am so sorry we’re late. Thank you for waiting. Let’s burn this fucking place down.” Gareth hits his sticks together, both a warning and a courtesy that there’s no stopping now, and Eddie rides the momentum. He nails every incoming note without thought, and he can feel the vibrations through the building, both of the music and the crowd. He gets the same rush he used to, when he was wide eyed and bushy tailed, younger and in love with the life of a rockstar. For a second, he feels it again, in the same place he’d felt the least alive at this time two years ago.

-

Your POV

“What the hell!” You stomp up to Steve, screaming over the noise of the stage into his face. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Steve only smirks. “How does it feel, huh? To not have a fucking clue what’s going on? He’ll tell you. I can’t-“

“Blah!” You throw your hands into the air, “I get it, you can’t tell me. Just… who’s the girl?”

Steve’s smile only grows. “Are you jealous?”

You groan, more from exhaustion than embarrassment. “Of course I’m fucking jealous, Steve! Don’t play dumb! Please, don’t make me feel stupid.”

His face falls, and he grabs you by the shoulders, jolting you into focus. “You have nothing to worry about. That I do know.”

It’s not enough, but it’s all you’re gonna get. You can’t help but respect it, the commitment to keeping Eddie’s business to himself. Truth be told, Steve is probably dying to tell you. “It’s that big, huh?” He nods sadly, and you mirror him in understanding. “But he’s going to tell you. He’s gonna tell you everything, and it’s gonna be a lot to digest. So I’ll be here when he tells you.”

“Steve, you’re scaring me.”

He nods. “That’s my intention. You might not get the answers you want, but you’ll get answers.”

-

You watch the tail end of their set with your brain going in circles. What could Steve possibly mean, the answers you don't want? What answers do you want? Who’s the girl, for starters. But mostly, what happened, in the two years without contact? What made you so angry? You can’t imagine an answer heavy enough to break you, not off the top of your head. Whatever it is, you want it. Even if it’s just to understand Eddie a little more. Even if it means he can’t be with you. Even if it means you have to let him go.

“Thank you!” Eddie shouts after the final note of a song you couldn’t name. “Thanks for comin’ out, Columbus!” The crowd shrieks, ratting your brain inside your head. “And give it up again for DEATH DANCE APPROXIMATELY!” The crowd politely continues cheering, and a small girl next to you sends you a bright smile. “So, so grateful to have them on this whole tour with us, you have no idea.” Eddie laughs bashfully, out of character for him to do while on stage. It’s a small thing, something you shouldn’t have noticed, but of course you did. He’s nervous. You squint, as if it will help you read him better, and it doesn’t. “This is our last song, I wanna hear you all. Loud as you can, alright?” The crowd whoops, and Corroded Coffin start in on Sweetheart, and you almost choke on your tears immediately.

Eddie has always said the closing song is the most important. It’s the one freshest in their mind, the one that will stick with them the most. It has to be perfect. He’d never used Sweetheart as the closer, and it’s obvious Gareth and Jeff weren’t ready for it, probably assuming Eddie skipped it reading the setlist. Eddie’s voice shakes slightly as he sings, but it’s perfect. His eyes stay closed the whole time, and you desperately wish he’d open them, find you in the wings, and sing the words to you again. Like he had, any time you’d asked him to just because you could. You sing along, lose yourself in the lyrics for the first time in years, actually hearing the words meant for you.

And then it’s over, and they’re thanking the crowd and bowing, and walking off stage, and even though you know you’re gonna see it all again night after night, even though you have seen it tens of times already, you miss it. The feeling of a shrieking crowd feeling all of their feelings while you feel yours. The feelings you hope you can give to your own audience. You feel like a teenager seeing their favorite band for the first time, and you’d forgotten how good that felt.

Robin seems to appear from thin air next to you. “Hey!” She semi-shouts over the bustling crowd. “Are you crying?” It’s a question you should absolutely be used to by now. You hadn’t noticed this time, though. “Oh!” You sniff, wiping a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, guess I was. Not sad, though.” Not necessarily true, but for now a nonissue.

“We’re all goin’ out tonight.”

You shake your head. “I’ll catch up.” She frowns at you. “It’s okay! I’ll tell you everything I can after.”

The possibility of a gossip session soothes her curiosity, and she squeezes your arm before continuing to wiggle through the crowd. You follow her backstage, into the massive dressing area backstage, where Eddie sits with his bandmates in a circle of metal fold out chairs, each of them holding a beer. Besides Eddie, who fiddles with the label of his water bottle.

“Right!” Jeff pats Eddie’s knee as he speaks, “We’re goin’ out. celebrating our biggest show to date.”

It’s then that Eddie lifts his eyes and catches you staring. You don’t bother averting yours to the floor, already having been caught red handed. “Do you guys mind if I sit this one out? I uh, have a prior engagement.” The girl, you’re sure. The girl you have nothing to worry about, the girl Eddie knows in the nowhere state of Ohio. You chew on the inside of your lip until you draw blood, anxious and suddenly unsure of everything Steve had tried to warn you about.

“Yeah, man, of course. Come out if you change your mind, though.” With that, Gareth and Jeff exit the room, and your friends follow suit soon after, leaving you and Eddie alone.

-

Eddie’s POV

Now, I have to do it right now. “Hey,”

You face him, eyes wide with questions he so desperately wants to answer for you. Your hands are clasped tightly together, your knuckles white and arms flexed, jaw clenched. “You wanna get some coffee?”

Your nod is vigorous, and he holds his elbow out for you. You quickly latch onto him, and Eddie feels just how anxious you must be. He can’t imagine where your head’s at, with your nightmares and your constant, irritating habit of caring about him so much. He’s exhausting you, and all he wants now is to let you rest.

Eddie asks a remaining staff member to escort the two of you out the back way, and into the warmth of the summer night. “Is there even somewhere that sells coffee around here? Let alone somewhere that’s open?” You joke, and he chuckles.

“I guess I didn’t think that far ahead. Ah!” He points down the road, to the glowing 7-Eleven sign. “Onward!” You laugh, and it floods through Eddie, like it’s drenching his head in ice water, refreshing him. He’s since dropped his arm, but yours stays locked around him, like if you let go he’d run away. As if he’d ever think to do such a thing.

He breaks the thick silence finally, after several minutes of walking through it. “You uh, said you wanted to talk?”

You look up at him. “I did?”

“Yeah, uh, this morning? We didn’t really get the chance.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah I guess so. I just,” You shake your head, frustrated, “I have questions.”

“Okay,” Eddie shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant. He wants to give you the answers. Finally, he wants to be completely open with you.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, shoot. I’ll answer your questions.”

“Any of them?”

“All of ‘em, sweetheart.” He can’t help it, he loves watching you shy away at the nickname, cute and soft, under all that armor.

-

Your POV

“Okay…” You have to be careful. One wrong move, and he’s shutting you out again. “Where’d you go tonight?” A subtle way to ask it, you think. Not accusatory, just curious, bordering on nosey.

“I ran into an old friend. From group.” You snap your neck, catching the words he says so casually.

“Group?”

Eddie nods, “NA-slash-AA.”

This is nowhere near where you thought this conversation would go. Every question you’d had crumbles at his answer. “What?”

“I’m more of a casual attendee, lately.” You feel your head fill up with more questions, and you’re drowning. “When did you-“ You’re expecting him to cut you off, but he waits. “When did you start going to meetings?”

Eddie looks to the sky as if to find the answer in the blackness above. “Early into 1991. There was still snow on the ground.”

“What um,” You’re walking the tightrope here, and you heed Steve’s warning. “What made you decide to go?”

Eddie looks at you again, his expression sad. “Had a really, really bad night.”

“What happened?” You ask, too quickly. It’s not fair, and you don’t have any right to know the answer, but Eddie snorts a laugh, like this news isn’t breaking your heart to learn. “Steve saved my life. I’m surprised he hasn’t divulged this story to you, even with the fact that I begged him not to tell anyone. Took me years to even tell the guys. I had gotten so bad, I didn’t care what happened to me. I was drinking myself to sleep every night, wallowing in self pity, barely able to function. I was worse than any time before. Worse than I was when you’d called me that night.”

“What night?”

“You were drunk, you probably don’t remember. Sometime in September of the year before, I’d been up all night trying, and you called me at home.” The memory comes back in a tidal wave. You’d just finished recording your EP, your first cohesive body of work, and with it had been signed to Sub Pop. Things had been looking up for you after cutting things off with him in July, but somewhere far away, Eddie had been drowning.

Before you can say anything, he continues, “Anyway, we were on a kind of hiatus as a band, had been for about a year at this point. I had nothing to get me out of bed before three in the afternoon, nothing to distract me from my pity party. I went out every night, drank until I couldn’t see, and did lines in the bathroom with people I didn’t care to know. I probably slept with six or seven different people a week, sometimes more. I couldn’t stop, because then I’d have to feel my feelings, and I was so afraid of them. One time,” He has the gall to chuckle, “after I got kicked out of a bar in New York for trying to fight the bouncer, I was so wasted and beaten that I fell asleep in my front yard with my pants around my ankles. Really glad I don’t have neighbors.”

It all pours out so easily now, like he’s telling you about his trip to the grocery store. “I uh, only got worse after that.” He stops, and you look up at him, waiting with wide, stinging eyes. “You sure you want me to keep going?” You nod. You don’t want to know, but you have to. As much as you suspect it’s gonna hurt, it means something that he’s finally willing to tell you.

He pushes forward. “On New Year's Eve of ‘91, I mixed whiskey and Steve’s Xanax. Way too much of it. Harrington found me passed out in the bathroom of my hotel room at around 1AM and called an ambulance. I'd written a note and everything.”

He pauses again to let you digest it all, and the silence sends a piercing ring through your ears. The words coming out of his mouth feel so far away, disconnected from the mouth they’re coming from. You’d never known Eddie to give up. Nothing had stopped him before; from finishing high school, from getting out of Hawkins, from being a rockstar. Regardless of how angry, or frustrated, or beaten he'd gotten, Eddie had always bounced back.

He finally pulls you from your thoughts. “That was the worst of it, but it had been a long time coming. When we were,” He gestured lamely to the air, “seeing each other, I was usually either on a run or coming down. I didn’t hide it well, I was almost sure you’d known, or at least suspected something. I was so angry and twitchy all the time. As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn’t bring you into it, though. I never wanted you to know, and in a lot of ways I still don’t. Actually, please tell me you don’t wanna know. I’ll shut right the fuck up.”

“Nice try, but you underestimate how nosey I am.” He laughs, and you smile despite it all. “When did you start, I guess doing coke?” He doesn’t think about it for long. “Ironically, New Year’s Eve 1990 was the first time. I was a pro at it by May. I'd been drinking heavily for years by then, guess I wanted to jazz it up to ring in the new decade.” He stops walking and pivots to look at you, suddenly eager, and in no way aware of how jarring what he’d just said was. “Do you remember when I would get nosebleeds all the time, or when I’d sneeze and there’d be a giant snot bubble?” You nod, your face contorting with disgust at the memories. You remember a specific time, when you’d been making out with him in his hotel room in Boston, and his nose had just started dripping blood onto your bare chest. He’d gotten so pissed off at himself he’s left without putting his shirt or shoes back on. “Yeah, that had nothing to do with the humidity. Deep down, I think you knew that.”

He’s right, but you can still feel the crack in your heart spiderweb and spread as you hear these suspicions about Eddie confirmed.

“When was the last time?”

“The first or second night of the tour, I think.”

“Are you still drinking?” Dustin’s question makes more sense to you now. You wonder how he’d found out.

Eddie hesitates, as if fighting himself on whether to answer truthfully. “I didn’t today. It’s the first full day I’ve gone in a while. Touring is always difficult, and I’m sure you understand why this time is uh, particularly stressful.”

“Because of me.” Obviously.

“Because I know how badly I’ve hurt you, and because I know I haven’t made it up to you yet. I haven't earned your trust or even your time by any means, and I hate that you’re seeing me like this when you should be enjoying your first full US tour.” He chokes the last words out. You’ve stopped walking again, waiting at a deserted intersection, not yet ready to cross. “I’ve been fucking up recently, which is why I haven’t said anything. It’s not because I don’t want you. I want you so, so much. I just can’t do it yet.”

“Eddie,” You reach for him, and he lets you. You hold his face in your hands, feeling his flushed cheeks warm your palms as you look at him under the streetlights. “You don’t earn things like help and support, Eddie, not from people that-“ You pause. Not now, it’s not fair. “People that care about you. Thank you for telling me, I can’t imagine what you must be feeling; surrounded by triggers at all times, having to see me so much. I never would have agreed to the tour if I’d known—,“

He cuts you off, shaking his head, wafting the scent of his shampoo at you. “Don’t do that, please. This is not your fault, this is my own undoing. You are exempt from blame here.”

“I wish I’d known you were struggling. I wish I could have helped.”

Eddie traps your hands with his own on his face. “I know. I do, too.”

A sob shoves its way through your lips, and you can’t rebuild the dam fast enough. You’re crying, ugly sobbing with snot and mascara painting your face into a sad clown. It may be a cry of relief, having finally understood where your love had gone, so to speak, and seeing a glimpse of him right now. A version of Eddie happy, warm. He smiles at you, a big, beautiful smile, but his eyes are so sad. “I wish I had known to ask. Would have saved us both so much trouble.” Eddie drops his hands to your waist and pulls you closer to him, your coffee quest long forgotten. “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.” You do not fight it, because there’s so much for him to be sorry for, regardless of if you want the apology. You trust that he means it. “I won’t push you for anything else. But I need you to ask for help, when you need it. I'm not gonna turn you away.” You wrap your arms around his torso, as physical proof of your words. You feel his arms as they surround your head, and he pulls you further into his chest. His breathing deep and even, heart beating soundly, you let yourself inhale him, indulge in his closeness even for a second. You eventually start to pull away, but he catches you, and you crane your head up to look at him, your nose inches away from his. Eddie’s eyes flick to your lips. It’s a fraction of a second, but you notice because you always do. You mimic him, flicking your eyes over his soft, pink lips and back to his deep, sweet brown eyes.

He moves first, but you’re quick to follow, and Eddie catches your lips with his, and you fight the urge to once again burst into tears. The kiss is one you haven’t felt in so long, like sleeping in your own bed after months being crammed inside a van or a two star motel. It’s a deep, yearning type of kiss you hadn’t known you were missing. Eddie moves a hand to cradle your head, like he’s holding the most valuable thing in the world. He’s gentle, almost timid, like the wrong move will ruin everything, break you both into pieces you won’t be able to fit back together. His lips are so soft, with no aggression or anxiety behind them, no nervous, frantic energy like he needs to consume you before you disappear. He takes his time, and you swim in the calm of it all. You rest your hand on his jaw, your finger lightly brushing his ear, the other stuck with your palm against his chest, squished between your bodies.

The last time Eddie kissed you like this was the day before he almost died. Before he cut that stupid sheet rope and tried to be a hero, he’d held you like you were the only thing on earth worth dying for. This time, though, there’s no rush, no impending doom to cut it short. You wonder if you’re pushing it, if this is too much for him, because it’s almost too much for you.

You pull away for a second. “Is this allowed?”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I think I know what you’re asking, but what do you mean?”

“Like, while you’re recovering. Shouldn’t you be more focused on that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Probably. And I will be. But I’m sober right now, at least, and all I can think about is you. And now you know everything, and you still kiss me like I’ve always been worthy of it. Even when I’m still not.”

“Do I really know everything now?” You lace your fingers through his and resume your walk.

He looks at you. “Do you have more questions?”

You have so many, but you’re so tired, so emotionally drained. “What do you think about, when you think about me?”

Eddie snorts a laugh at your question and you hide your face in your free hand. “Nothing good. You’re under my skin, doll. Always have been. Hey, look at that,” you look to where he’s pointing, the bright lights of the 7-Eleven store. “I’m kinda over coffee. You wanna watch a movie? For old time’s sake?” You nod wordlessly as your heart skips about, and he opens the door for you so you can grab some snacks instead.

-

Another hotel room, with boring white walls and bright white bed sheets. Eddie’s suitcases already sit in the corner, placed there by the hotel staff, complimentary mints on the pillows. Eddie flicks the bedside lamps on before fiddling with the remote, and you immediately realize, you’re once again without your own clothes. “Could I borrow-“ Eddie throws a shirt that lands perfectly draped over your face and you’re overwhelmed with his scent. “Thanks.” You deadpan, removing the fabric. He’s tossed a pair of his shorts onto the bed in front of you as well, and you’re silently grateful, because you wouldn’t have asked for them. He quickly flings his shirt off his head, and you watch as he swaps his jeans for a pair of worn flannel pajama pants.

Eddie then clicks the TV on, searching the channels aimlessly for something to watch before quickly giving up, muting it on a late night talk show. “How are you doing?” He’s already sprawled on the bed, resting his head in his hand to look at you, still in your clothes.

“I’m just digesting, I guess.” You face away from him to pull your sweat soaked shirt over your head and toss it on the floor, feeling his eyes on your bare back. You never wear a bra onstage, but you’re regretting it now. You yank Eddie’s shirt over your head to hide your butt as you yank your tights down, suddenly very aware of the color of your panties: red, and far too lacy for these circumstances. You yank Eddie’s boxers up your legs, and feel decent enough to face him again.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He blurts as you slide into the space next to him, on top of the covers still.

“What do you mean?”

“After dark, sharing a bed, sharing my clothes,” He gestures to you, dressed head to toe in Eddie Couture. “Someone might see us. People are gonna start getting suspicious.”

“You think they’re not already?” You shift to lay on your side, now looking at him straight on. “We aren’t exactly being discrete as of late.”

He gives you a half shrug. “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“The fans, making assumptions.”

You think about your choice of words. “I thought it would. I think it bothered me more that they weren’t right.”

Eddie cracks a goofy smile, and you swat at him uselessly. “You want to be having a steamy secret affair with the douchebag frontman of Corroded Coffin?” He teases, poking at you.

“Oh, shut up.” There’s no malice in your voice. “You know what I mean. They have it all figured out. We’re together, in love, not ready to share it with the world or whatever. Much less complicated than whatever it is we’re actually doing.”

Eddie considers this for a moment. “Guess that’s true. I don’t think I could explain any of what we’re doing to Steve, let alone the public.”

You sigh. Poor, ignorant Steve. There’s only so much you’d be able to tell him for sure. “He’d have a heart attack.”

“I’ve already spooked him enough for a whole lifetime, I can’t drop this bomb on him too.”

“Let’s not worry about that. We don’t even know what we’re doing.”

“I just know I wanna keep doing it.” The way he says it sends you reeling instantly, drawing you into him, closing the distance between his lips and yours. You melt into him, wrapping your leg around his waist as he grips the flesh of your hip. Your hand slides effortlessly into his hair, tangling around your fingers, pulling a moan from Eddie’s throat as you tug him further into you. You can feel his gentry twitch in his pants, only a few thin layers of fabric separating him from your core. You roll your hips against him, sighing as his tip bumps against your clit, desperate for friction.

Eddie moves, latching his lips onto your throat causing your brain to fog. Your chest heaves as he nips at your skin, marking you, making your head swim with pleasure. You feel his fingers toying with the hem of his t-shirt, his calloused fingers sliding under the fabric to caress your skin, sending chills up and down your whole body. You shiver, and he pulls away. “Wanna stop?”

“Shouldn’t we?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

So you kiss him again, hungrier now. You help him yank his shirt over your head, abandoning it on the floor next to yours. Eddie shifts again, pressing your bare chest against his before breaking the kiss suddenly. “May I, uh,” He stutters like he’s a nervous teenager again, as if he’s seeing his first pair of boobs ever.

“Please.” You sigh, and it propels Eddie on, shifting down the bed until he’s eye level with your chest.

“God, I missed you.” He rasps, and you don’t have time to ask if he’s talking to you or your tits before he runs his tongue over your nipple, pulling a whine from your throat. You feel his other hand slide down your torso, freezing when it reaches the waistband of his boxers. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you let me take care of you?”

—

chapter XIX

haha hehe hahahahah ha ha. ha

tag list: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @littlepotatobeansworld @poisonedluv @kellsck @m-chmcl-rmnc

[oonajaeadira]

I'll Never Fall In Love Again: Scene 7: The Sex Scene

Fandom: The Bubble

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings: story jumps back and forth in time, playing fast and loose with "how things are done" in the film industry, consensual troublemaking with just a little boundary testing, frottage and thigh-riding (nothing super explicit but still very much a focus of action), messy feelings, indulgent yearning, angst, performance anxiety.

A/N: Thanks for your patience on this. It's nice to get back to these two idiots. I went light on sex and heavy on feelings and I hope that's okay with y'all because you know my kind of porn is feeling porns, right? Right. Okay. Let the disaster continue.

On film, kissing can’t be faked. Sex most certainly can.

When you enter the dim studio, Natalie and Nate, your stand-ins, lay artfully folded around each other in the back seat of a sedan, bared to the world in nothing but nude underwear as the crew work to set proper lighting levels and the DP makes sure this tight shot’s gonna work.

Unlike Natalie, you’re in a skirt and blouse, but only for the time being–it will be Dieter’s task to open that blouse and get that skirt rucked up around your hips soon enough.

Shit. You really should have taken some time to mentally prepare yourself for this. Taken a page out of Dieter’s book and, what? Had a stiff drink? (Heh. Stiff.) The butterflies that are escaping the cage of your stomach and eating at the supports in your knees should have been tended to prior to this shoot–

But then Dieter comes and takes a stand next to you and those nerves just…go away.

Yes, you both had your feelings out the other night, it should be awkward now, but it isn’t. There’s understanding now. Healing is coming. Has started already. And there’s never been anyone you’ve trusted more on set than Dieter fucking Bravo. You know he’s a pro. He’s a mess and a menace. But he’ll take care of you. Still.

“Hey,” he bumps a shoulder into yours. “You wanna have sex with me?”

Smiling down at your feet, you nod. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

Maybe not the best choice of words, even jokingly. You can feel his energy droop beside you, almost hear the wattage of his good mood bawooing out. “We okay, Cakes?”

Reaching for his hand, your fingers weaving into his own, you serve him a confident smile. “Of course. I’m glad you’re here.”

Like you have been for so many of my major career firsts.

The frantic kissing and the tussle in the rear car seat goes well; it’s okay to let your character get lost in his, to lean in and borrow from the way you and Dieter claw at each other. He kisses you hungrily, hands grasping your jaw, sucking in any breath you’ll give him, taking control of the kiss so you can concentrate on stripping him of his shirt and pants in the confines of the car seat as parsed out with Annie and the intimacy coordinator. But it's work and it's professional. Mostly.

You’d fall in love with his talent if you actually thought he was acting.

A few takes with resets of hair and makeup, a few different angles and a few shared giggles, and a few hours later you’re moving into the full shot, from the moment of first contact all the way through the deed.

And the kissing continues to go well–easy, pleasing, second nature. You’ve done enough takes to be able to get his clothes peeled away with ease.

But it’s when it comes to exposing you–to his big fingers somehow making short work of your dainty blouse buttons, to his palms sweeping up the sides of your thighs to push your flounces up and away–something yips in you, steps over a line into an unknowing void and you fixate.

It would be the same with any other actor, but it seems so strange here with Dieter–technically your husband–that you’ve never been in this state of undress with each other. With your breasts out, him slotted between your legs in nothing but a genital sock thrusting without actually making contact other then his hot breath in your neck and hands curling under your back and would it be better if he was making contact and you think about that night on the couch and what came after and your head’s not in the game here and Annie makes you take one shot, two, five–

“Cut, please,” Annie begs after take eight. “Take a break you two. Reset. We’re gonna try another angle.”

This isn’t good. Dieter peels himself from you, and you look anywhere but his face–although you have to avoid staring at the cock sock, at his whole bronzy naked body, really.

Something’s not working here.

And you both know it’s you.

A PA approaches Dieter with a robe open to receive him, but before you can ask him for reassurance, he simply snatches the robe as he passes the poor assistant, lazily throwing it on and padding off the set into the darkness of the crew area, covering his naked ass in his own time. “Hey. Annie, can I talk to you?”

Shit. FUCK.

It’s very telling that neither of them are turning to you immediately. Annie giving up on offering direction and Dieter has no encouragement in him anymore. Like they’re gonna huddle up and decide what to do with you. The thought of disappointing not just one but both of them–a director you admire and a friend and fellow actor who you had looked up to not so long ago–is heartbreaking and ego-shattering in so many ways and imposter syndrome shrinkwraps itself around your heart, preserving it in a marinade of cringe.

Why? Why can’t you just portray sexual pleasure? Sex can be faked! Tap into the arc of your character using this man who’s crazy about her to get off? You’ve got real life experience to draw on, and–if you're sly about it–you can play a little of life imitating art here….no. You don't need that. This shouldn’t be hard.

But it is. And you know full well why.

You can just make out Annie’s serious face and Dieter’s waving arms over by the craft table.

Shit. Well, union rules are union rules, and you might as well take advantage of the break. If you make it quick, you can get all the tears out and still swing by makeup to cover it up before anyone misses you.

____________

That summer after Cannes and Seattle was a whirlwind. Fall of Timon had its major release and there were regional premieres and panels, talk shows and interviews, everyone fawning over the director and Davey and Dieter; those few who paid attention to your involvement mainly asking about your experience with those two and then of course your marriage to the latter.

Auditions came hot and heavy. Dieter had some last minute ADR work for Hunger Strike and then took on a voice acting gig for a major video game company, so he rarely allowed himself to speak much after hours in an effort to manage his instrument.

But there were a few nights that hot summer, balcony windows open, curtains billowing and blowing through your room out into the lounge where you and Dieter sweated against the couch, taking turns getting up for cold beer and ice cream, laughing through a classic 80’s romcom. Those were good nights. Happy nights. You-and-your-best-friend nights.

By the end of August he was gone. Venice’s Film Fest first, then Toronto’s to promote Hunger Strike. Straight from there back over the ocean to Jordan for filming a season on a sci-fi series.

He called almost every night. Not long. Just a harried recap of his day–your morning–the shoot, his victories, his irritations, outings with the cast, hot goss. And you fought so hard against your jealousy–of him for his adventure, and of the cast for getting his presence. You found any and every excuse to be out at night with friends rather than streaming tv by yourself in a big, empty house.

But more and more he’d tire of talking and beg you to tell him about your day. Well. Your yesterday. If you didn’t have much to tell, he’d push you for details of a meal you ate or what you wore or even what the weather was like. It became clear that he was growing weary of being away from home and just wanted to hear you chatter, that your voice was his bedtime routine, that he would sleep better just hearing you complain about traffic.

And more and more, you realized your day was better when you could speak to him at the beginning of it.

And soon enough it was Thanksgiving week, Hunger Strike’s Stateside premiere, and Dieter was coming home. His schedule was tight–a mere five days to hit the premiere, the afterparty, the talk shows, a few auditions, and a recording session–and yet, he took you by surprise and reserved an evening just for the two of you.

Dieter new people, like any celebrity might. And one of the people he knew–an old college friend–happened to be working an install at Geffen Contemporary, able to open the gallery after hours for a private walkthrough on the weekend before the exhibit was set to open.

Takashi Murakami–one of your mutual favorites. A surprise for you. And as much as he was happy to get the chance to see the exhibit before he flew back to Jordan, he spent most of the time there just enjoying your delight at all of the bright colors, the insipid smiling flowers, the crazed and euphoric animals, the fountains of anime jizz.

Standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling mural of repeating cartoon faces, you’d turned to him, grinning like an idiot, only to find him regarding you with the same expression.

“This is a nice treat. Thank you, Deets.”

“Happy birthday,” he beamed, severely proud of himself.

You laughed, your nose wrinkling in confusion. “It’s not my birthday.”

“I know,” his smile faded a bit, “but we didn’t do yours properly. So since we’re done here, we’re going to the weiner stand.”

“Is that a metaphor?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Do you want it to be?” But your pseudo-husband granted you mercy, turning to go before your face betrayed the whammy he’d just dealt you, leading the way out of the gallery and into a silent Uber. The trip ended up with the two of you sharing a messy order of Holee Molee Fries with your hands, standing on the sidewalk in front of the hot-dog shaped walk-up eatery under the husky rose and umber L.A. sunset.

He always looked so content and warm and beautiful in the twilight hour.

You weren’t prepared for Hunger Strike. Or rather, how it would make you feel.

The premiere was grand, fun. Davey and half the cast of Timon were there making the occasion a mini-reunion, and Dieter’s stylist had struck up a deal with de la Renta, so you were matched in a tasteful floral cocktail gown from the same series as Dieter’s suit. Which meant plenty of couple photos on the carpet. It wouldn’t have been wrong to slip off and let him take the spotlight alone, except he simply wouldn’t let you, holding tight to your arm and joking that you were his fanciest and most slimming accessory–nobody would notice that he’d gained weight since the filming if they were all drooling over you.

But you weren’t fooled. And he wasn’t trying to fool you. Just trying to keep you beside him because he wanted you there. Simple.

It wasn’t until he found you in a quiet corner of the afterparty that he was able to seek your opinion, your mind whirring with the premiere you’d just witnessed, Dieter’s performance brilliant, unnerving, inspired, breathtaking–leagues more surprising and career-making than his work in Fall of Timon.

“Hey, I wondered where you’d gone,” he breathed, relieved to be away from the crowd for a hot second. “You okay?”

He was quiet while you gathered your thoughts, while you tried to articulate the swirl of emotions after watching your best friend–your mentor, your damned fake husband–fucking kill it on that screen. Finally, all you could manage was to pull him into an embrace that he eagerly returned, to press a kiss into his cheek and tell him, “That was astounding, D. I’m so, so proud of you.”

In those scant seconds after you let him go, he was transformed–haloed in pride, drunk on your praise, even though he’d had more thorough words from the mouths of a hundred guests–you watched the world begin to fall away from him as his eyes held yours, yearned after more. There was something he wanted to say, something that started with, “Yeah? You really think so,” and might have ended in god knows what if he’d been allowed to finish, but a couple of VIP guests had noticed the lack of crowd around you and paid no respect for the private moment, swooping in to take the opportunity to have you both to themselves.

As it was, all you got out of the night were some blisters from your designer heels and a press photo someone had snapped behind your back--your arms around him and your lips to his cheek, his fingers gripping the back of your dress and his face buried against your shoulder, eyes squeezed tight in agonized bliss as if your approval had meant more to him than the whole theater combined.

You refused to entertain the possibility of that being the truth.

You found a printout of the photo hung on the refrigerator after he flew back out to Jordan the next morning. Like a toddler that did a good job on his spelling test and wanted you to remember the best of himself.

You had a suspicion that a twin printout was in a bag on its way to Jordan.

____________

“What’s going on?”

The crew is in a flurry, doing final light checks and adjusting the car set when you’re called back into the soundstage after being redressed and reset again.

Dieter’s back in his full costume as well. Looks like it’s another full take again.

“They’re doing a slight adjustment on the lighting,” he says, watching them. “Talked to Annie. We’re gonna try something different.”

“Uh…what?” You’d just gotten used to the fact that this scene was happening and now they’re changing it? “Does the I.C. know?”

He shrugs. “She’s not here. What she doesn’t know won’t get her buttplug all twisted ‘round.”

“And were you two going to clue me into these changes or…..?”

Here’s where he finally turns to you, but can’t seem to meet your warning gaze for long, chewing on the inside of his cheek. God, he’s pretty when he drops all his swagger. If only Dieter knew how good vulnerability looked on him….“You trust me, ‘Cakes, yeah?”

An old warmth returns, melting you like the earth turning back towards the sun in spring. It’s an instant recognition that whatever he said to Annie was about you–and in your best interest–and just like he did during Timon, he wants to help you again.

“‘Course I do.”

One of the assistants calls over to the two of you, ready for you to return to the set, and you follow close to Dieter as he whispers, “Listen. You’re just wearing a snatch patch, right?”

“W-what? Yes?”

“Good. A full genital guard would have been rough."

The assistant dressers crowd you, doing a last minute swat for lint, trapping fly-aways, fixing your waistline. “Um, okay, why–”

“Alright, you two,” Annie appears beside you, all smiles, her tiny frame belying the big sass that you know lurks underneath. “So Dieter and I talked and he made me see the very rare error of my ways and here’s the deal.”

Your director goes on to explain that Dieter alerted her to the fact that this is an escalation point for your character, that little by little you’ve been taking control of your situation and this is the moment you take control of Dieter’s character. Trapping you under him was cutting you off from options to express that.

“We’re putting you on top,” Annie says to you, continuing when she sees your dropped jaw. “You let Dieter guide. This isn’t about you seducing him or dominating him. It’s about you learning to let go and enjoy him, to own your own sexual freedom. So we’ll start with the buildup as is, disrobing as is, but then let him pull you on top. It’ll give you more opportunity to play.” Pinching your chin and giving it a sisterly shake, she growls, “You got this, kid. Feel free to really give into her wildness. And remember it’s your call if you need to stop at any time. Dieter leads, but you’re in control here? Okay? Now. If you want to rehearse a take, that’s your right, but I’d like to roll for spontaneity’s sake.”

Looking away from her glittering, black eyes, to Dieter–standing there like a taught rubber band, his arms hanging but his twitchy fingers betraying his trapped kinetics–and back to Annie, you give her a nod. “Let’s do it.”

A shake of the shoulders, a fist bump with your scene partner. A silent commitment to do better for both of them.

And while Annie gets situated behind the monitor and the DP synchs, you keep Dieter’s focus, allowing yourself just for the moment–for the hour, the day–to fall back in love with him.

You wonder if he senses this change. You’re certainly sensing one in him, his fidgets melting, his jaw unclenching.

You both know what to do.

His kissing has improved since……well. Perhaps he’s more confident when he’s acting rather than being drunk or jet-lagged. But right now…now he’s intoxicating. Traces your jaw and ears with the soft bend of his nose and plush of his lips, taking care not to let his scruff tear you up too much. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to devour your breath, keep your tongue dancing tempo with his, put his big hands in all the right places to press out all your tension.

It’s not even whispered, just mouthed against your lips: “That’s good.”

His shirt comes off first, and you take the lead in stripping away his jeans, but then the choreography changes as he slows you, brings your focus to him, pushing up your skirt in order to hold your hips and guide you to his lap, pulling you into a straddle, watching your expression as you land.

Only the thin fabrics of his genital sock and your modesty patch separate your softer sections from his harder ones.

And he drags you against him.

And you gasp.

There’s a moment where you pause with your eyes and mouth wide in surprise, his air trapped within him as he waits to make sure he hasn’t crossed the line.

He has.

But your skirt covers things. And what Annie and the crew don’t know can’t hurt them.

Suddenly you’re in the mood to match his trouble.

And you begin to slowly ride.

And in his escaping breath, there’s a “Yeah.”

His hands give you a gentle pull and leave you with the subtle direction to keep rocking while he takes his time working his way through your blouse buttons, pushing the fabric down over your shoulders but not your arms, leaving it to drape artfully from elbow to elbow across your back, giving you a little more cover, a little more security, allowing his naked character to be the vulnerable one.

And as you roll against him, wetting your breath-dried lips, he watches you, checks in with you.

You okay with this?

Yeah.

A rise of his hips. I’m gonna pick it up.

Please.

That’s good, Babycakes. Just like this.

And all of a sudden, it clicks. It doesn’t matter that the set is full of people, doesn’t matter that Annie is hoping for a saving take, doesn’t matter that millions of people will watch this intimate moment between the two of you.

All that matters is that you get to have it with him.

As he rocks you closer to breaking, your lips part, your eyes close, and your forehead lands upon his.

“That’s it, Baby,” he breathes, his words just hurried shapes and pops, “I want you to feel it this time. I want you to have this. I’m here. Use it. I want you to have it.”

Later, Annie will tell you what a perfect arch your back makes when your character finally lets go.

____________

After the Hunger Strike premiere, he called less often. He was bouncing around Europe, shooting a commercial, visiting friends, auditioning a few treatments, and when he was back in Jordan, he was far enough off the grid that he’d have to use the production’s satellite phone to call and that was getting governmental aerospace involved, so communication slowed to a crawl.

You’d had an unsent message sitting in your drafts for weeks and was just about to delete it one dreary January morning as you lazed in bed. Alone. In a big, empty house.

But then the phone rang in your hands and you dropped it on your face with a loud curse, fumbling and snatching it back with the hope that the call was coming from the person your message was addressed to so you wouldn’t have to say it–

“SWEETHEART!”

No such luck. “Heyyy Morgan.”

“Well, you did it, kitten,” your agent’s bangles rang over the phone as you imagined her clutching her fists and doing a little shimmy, “congratulations!!!”

“Huh?”

“Wait. Are you kidding me? The nominations dropped today. Don’t tell me you slept in.”

And all of a sudden you were a windmill of arms and legs and flying sheets, a shrieking and thudding mess across the carpet as you ran to the desk to open a laptop. “Shit! Tell me!!!”

“Supporting actress, hon. I TOLD YOU.” Morgan knew you’d be sitting there in a permanent gasp, so she took the opportunity to spill. “Fall of Timon is one of the big takers; film, director, special effects, supporting actress, lead actor–”

“Dieter?” you squealed. “Oh shit, he’s going to be so excited–!”

“Ah, no. I mean, yes, but Davey’s been nominated for Timon. Dieter did receive a lead nom, but it’s for Hunger Strike.” As if she could feel the turmoil in your silence, Morgan laced her voice with a smile pushed forward. “And this is marvelous; the press will be all over you two, the power couple who have to war with rooting for their spouse or their project. Good visibility.”

“Well,” you force a chuckle, “I mean, yeah. Davey’s my costar. But of course I’ll pull for Dieter because I know he’ll be pulling for me.”

“Yes. Although. He’s going to have to support Chelsea as well.”

“Chelsea? What? …Oh.” Chelsea Seagate. His nemesis in Hunger Strike. “But…that’s easy, right? She would be up for leading actress, so–”

“The studio thought she’d have a better chance at taking supporting, so that’s where they championed her.”

“Oh.” Direct competition.

Somehow you’d made it through the rest of the conversation. Somehow you’d managed to fake full enthusiasm for Morgan’s sake while you were sitting stunned on the edge of your bed. Somehow you’d let her congratulations sink in.

But you’d also fallen back onto the mattress, all fetal position and stunned silence.

It wasn’t anything to cry over. But your adrenaline was running high off your own nomination and you were stupidly excited for Dieter of course.

If he had been there, it wouldn’t have been an issue. You would have hugged and jumped up and down and called in a mess of takeout and downed some edibles and just been happy for each other.

But he wasn’t there. And you felt it. Had been feeling it for weeks and living in denial that it meant anything. The year was close to being over and there was no need to complicate things. Catching feelings wasn’t part of the deal and the logistics of being tied to Dieter Bravo for a long haul just weren’t built on solid enough ground.

Especially since he’d been calling less. Being out of country meant he could probably mess around easier without anyone finding out. He was doing his best, keeping his promise, slowly repairing his image and not making you look foolish for marrying a–well, a bit of a slut, really, if reputation served. And if he was getting his dick on, well, he’d been discreet and you could appreciate that.

You told yourself he was having his fun but being discreet for you. There was no way you’d believe he was denying himself for your sake. Not Dieter. Entertaining that thought would be like admitting that…

That you didn’t want him to.

Shit.

Laying with your cheek to the sheets, squinting in the cold January sun, a thumb-drag across your phone opened it to your messages. It was easy enough at first to avoid the unsent one.

--Congratulations, D!

Still skipping past the unsent text.

--I’m so proud of you!

You should have closed the phone, but your heart teetered on the edge of a gulf, hovering over the send icon.

There had to be a different way to say it.

--If you were here, I’d take you out to celebrate.

It was the wrong thing to say, because it was true.

And it hurt. And the realization of what you were then admitting to yourself pulled the tears out even faster. All the times you almost told him out of some nagging need, and then, as if he knew you needed to hear from him he’d call and then it just lived there in your drafts, but oh god, this was a big twist of the knife, and it hurt, and you just thought, fuck it, and hit send.

--I miss you so much, Dieter.

____________

Silence.

Stupid. For the next week you tried to push the mental groan of anguish out of your head. This is why you should never text when you’re emotional, you big dummy. He might have been too far out on location. Or trying to text and it didn’t come through. There was no reason to believe he was ignoring you or you’d overstepped. After all, it was text and didn’t have intonation behind it. You could still be his best friend and miss him. That was allowed.

No need to fret.

Anything would be preferable to silence though.

What was going to buoy you was a celebratory get together at Davey’s place that weekend. An invite went out to cast and crew of Timon, and Saturday night saw old friends converging in Beverly Hills, Davey and his partner Mark’s mid-century home still lit up from Christmas.

It was exactly what you needed to relax and find your smile, to be among friends, and, of course, proceed to get just a bit more than tipsy thanks to the catered bartender.

Davey mentioned that he’d gotten into pinball lately and at one point in the evening a friend asked to see his collection, so the whole party took a detour to the outbuilding that he’d turned into a throwback dive-bar setup with nine vintage pinball machines.

Everyone was crowded around Mark, watching him play for the high score on the very suggestive cowboy machine that would trip the bucking bronco. He’d just missed, and there was a loud, raucous groan, that ended in Davey cheering, “Well fuck you, you son-of-a-bitch Oscar-traitor! Aren’t you supposed to be in Egypt or some such shit?”

The group spun as a messy whole to find Dieter standing in the doorway, offering up a dumb grin and a wave, causing everyone to whoop.

You were too drunk to feel anything but delight and shock, and it must have shown, because once he saw you in the crowd–saw you gasping smile and brimming eyes–he came straight at you, bowling you backward in a sloppy embrace, growling contentment as everyone else slapped and patted his back in welcome.

“I missed you too,” he mumbled against your shoulder. “Surprise!”

And everything that felt broken in you found its way back into place.

He made the rounds at the party, said his hellos to friends, but kept you close by until it was just the two of you creating your own little bubble, both leaning head and shoulder against a wall in the hallway–you a little overwhelmed with drink and him jet-lagged–explaining that he’d hoped to be here a day or two sooner, but there were re-routes and delays and he’d be flying back as soon as he could guarantee a stand-by. He’d literally been traveling over 24 hours just to surprise everyone and come celebrate.

And you’d stood there, asking him questions about the location and the shoot, listening, laughing a little too hard, hanging on every word, holding his hand as if he’d fly away the second you weren’t tying him to you. But he wasn’t going anywhere at that moment. He was as grounded to the moment as you were.

Maybe an hour? Two? Another drink? An Uber ride home. Laughter. You almost dropped your keys on the doorstop trying to unlock the door.

“You wanna see my house? It’s really big and I live here all alone,” you joked, chuckling as you kicked off your shoes and stumbled into the dark living room, your oncoming headache keeping you from turning on the light.

Dieter followed, but didn’t join you in the merriment.

“I’m sorry for not calling more, Cakes. We’re literally staying with the Bedouins, there’s nothing out there–”

“Hey. You don’t have to apologize to me. If I need company I know where to find it.”

That made him smirk. “Yeah? You’d cuck me in my own house?”

“Ah–” stammering, you tried to make light of what you assumed was a joke. “That’s not the kind of company I meant. Besides, you’re the one out there away from prying eyes with the desert roses, Mr. Bravo. So. No pointing fingers at me.”

“That’s what you think?” You couldn’t see his face in the dim light, but his voice told a story of quiet disappointment. Oh. So not a joke then. “I flew back here to surprise you.”

You had to put some mental distance between what he was saying and what you hoped it meant. “And to go to the party.”

“Because I knew you’d be there. I wanted to get home earlier so we could go together. Like we're meant to.”

You wished a lot of things in that moment, the main one being that you were more sober.

You didn’t get that wish. But you did get another one.

Because he didn’t pull back when you crashed your mouth into his. He didn’t push you away when you wrapped your arms around him. And even when the momentum of a few kisses pushed his calves against the couch and he lost balance and fell onto it, he was the one who reached up and pulled you onto his lap and kept begging you silently not to stop.

Delirium. Bliss. You were both sloppy, but equally present and willing. “Holy shit your lips are soft. Like pillows or some shit,” he mumbled, unable to help himself.

At one point you felt the evening dragging you down and you could sense yourself slipping into fatigue, threatening to steal precious hours with him away from you, but you fought it, trying to crank it back up by reaching for his belt.

He laughed softly against your lips as he gently moved your hand away. “Mmmmnnnope. You’re drunk, ladybug.”

“All the easier for you to take advantage.”

“I know,” he groaned, just a shadow of regret coloring it. “Another time maybe.”

“But you came all this way,” you whined, reaching again for his buckle and then switching to a purr. “Don’t you want to sleep with your wife?”

That made him stop. “Fuck, you’re making this hard on me.” He pulled your hand away again, this time guiding it up to receive a kiss to the knuckle. “No means no, missus.”

Oh shit. Thinking you’d really gone too far, misread the situation–how?--you shifted backward, moving to get up.

“No, no. Wait. C’mere.” Hands on your hips guided you back and he put a thigh between yours. Urging you to sit, he pulled you back to his mouth as he whispered, “Just. I can’t… Not me. Let me help you.”

And he did. Although he denied you any payback. He simply held you, gave you his kisses and his thigh, and your head swam and your desire glowed. But each sigh got longer, longer, longer…

Until you woke up the next morning on the couch, covered with a blanket, a glass of water on the coffee table in front of you twinkling in the cold wintry morning sun, the spike of pain in your head matching the one of complete mortification in your heart.

____________

I want you to feel it this time. I want you to have this. I’m here. Use it. I want you to have it.

Standing in the trailer at the end of the day, you flip through the divorce papers absently, unfocused, not really seeing anything but a word here and there; “differences,” “lack,” “unable,” “resolve.” Yours is the only signature. It’s inelegant–either your pen didn’t have enough ink at first or you hesitated–

“Hey.” Dieter stands in the doorway, confused, not expecting to find you in his trailer. As you turn toward him, he notices the papers in your hand and cringes in recognition, sucking in a rallying breath as he enters and pulls the door closed behind him. “That mad, huh. Listen, Cakes–”

But his jaw drops as you grip the top of the small packet….

…and give it all a neat tear down the middle.

Dropping each half to your sides, it signals an end to something between you that isn’t your marriage.

He waits for you. A little bit anxious. A little bit hopeful. Expectant and quiet.

And you make him wait.

Then you simply place what’s now garbage in the bin.

“I see you’re still in your robe.”

“I see you’re still in yours.”

“That was some trick you pulled, Mr. Bravo.”

“I can’t tell if you’re mad.”

“I’m not.”

He’s still not sure where this is going, keeps watching you with those same puppy eyes, Fight sitting on one shoulder, Flight on the other, waiting for a million shoes to drop.

“You didn’t finish during the scene.” You say, pointing to a shape that’s hiding under his robe. “How very professional of you. I suppose you came in here to take care of it.”

He swallows, nods eagerly, his hope utterly, adorably transparent.

You take a step toward the back where the crash bed is. Jerk a thumb back over your shoulder in its direction. Cock an eyebrow. “Well? I’m sober this time. You wanna consummate this thing or not?”

It’s not his birthday, but you might as well have just told Dieter you were taking him out to the wiener stand.

And this time, it would most definitely be a metaphor.

____________

NEXT

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

[cerealmonster15]

Kalim and the Great Relationship Rescue [Twst] [Kalisil + Jamiazu]

[Ao3 Link]

Chapter: 1/?

Word count: 1165

Summary: Kalim makes it his mission to help Jamil fix his relationship with Azul - even though Jamil never asked for his help in the first place. He enlists the aid of his trusted friend and classmate, Silver, as well as their fellow schoolmates, to ensure success. After all, the chilling tension between Jamil and Azul is really throwing off everyone else's mood, so something has GOT to change, and fast. Surely the power of persistent friendship and the minds of several devious teenagers coming together can lead them to success… Right?

“Hey, Floyd! You guys have a basketball game tonight, right?”

“Sure do! Why? Don’t tell me Sea Snakey forgot to tell ya?”

Silence.

“...Hellooo?” Floyd called through the phone. “Sea Otter? You drop the phone in the toilet or somethin’?”

“No, no, sorry! I’m here… it’s just, uh… I think Jamil’s a bit…”

Kalim paused and looked over at where Jamil was laying in a prone position on the bed, arms wrapped tightly around a pillow, face buried inside, muffling his voice as he let out a frustrated scream.

“...Stressed?”

Kalim could hear Floyd’s amused laughter in response on the other end of the line. “Hey, maybe he’ll make more interesting plays tonight with that kind of energy on the court, hehe…”

Maybe Floyd was right. Maybe basketball would be a good distraction for Jamil right now! It was a physical outlet - and dancing always made both of them feel better, so surely basketball would have a similar effect. Maybe all Jamil needed was to play a really intense game with his supportive teammates, and he’d cheer up.

“Yeah, good point! I look forward to seeing you guys play. Are Jade and Azul comi-?”

Kalim’s question was abruptly cut off by another loud, angry, and strange combination between a sob and a shriek from Jamil against his pillow.

“Oh! Uh,” Kalim moved the phone away from his mouth and frantically turned around. “Sorry, Jamil! I was just asking Floyd about your basketball game tonight. You’re… still going, right?”

Jamil only responded with more muffled screams.

Kalim took that as his cue to leave, quickly hopping up from the edge of the bed and scooting towards the door. ��Okay! I’m gonna let you have some alone time, and… Um, I'll come get you when it’s time to go to the game, alright?”

“Just GO!” Jamil shouted, lifting his head just long enough to get those words out before immediately flopping his face back down and resuming his wails of disgruntled anguish. 

“Right! Got it! See you later!”

Kalim hurried the rest of the way out of the room and shut the door behind him. He sighed, and put the phone back to his ear.

“Sorry about that, Floyd. Are you still there?”

Floyd, again, responded with laughter.

“Sure am! Sounds like Sea Snakey’s definitely gonna play an interesting game. I’m gettin’ fired up just thinkin’ about it!”

Kalim sighed. “Man, I really hope it helps him feel better… How’s Azul holding up…?”

“Oh, terribly. But what else is new, right?'' Floyd said, though he did not sound particularly concerned about the matter. “I mean, he’s insistin’ it’s fine and all, but he’s an awful liar when it comes to feelings - especially feelings about Sea Snakey. He keeps pretending to be busy and holing himself up in his office, snappin’ at people that bother him too much.”

Kalim made his way down the hall and into his own room, flopping down onto his back on his own bed. “Oh no, really? That’s awful!”

“Ehh, he ain’t actin’ super different from regular cranky Azul, really. Probably most of the Mostro Lounge employees wouldn’t be able to tell the difference when he’s in ‘business mode’ on the clock. Me ‘n Jade see right through him, obviously.”

Kalim sighed and started fidgeting with the corner of one of the many pillows covering his bed. “Well, at least you and Jade are there to support him…”

“Heh, sure.” 

A door could be heard opening on Floyd’s end, followed by what sounded like Jade’s voice.

“M’kay, I gotta run, Sea Otter. Jade and I’ll try and pull Azul out of his wallowing to the game tonight, but no promises!”

“Yeah, alright… See you later, Floyd!”

The line clicked and went quiet, and Kalim rolled over on his stomach to open his texts. He scrolled through the long list of conversations he’d had throughout the day, and tapped Silver’s name.

Hi silver! Wanna come to the basketball game w/me later? You can come over 2 my dorm and hang out til then if ur not busy!

Silver texted back a few minutes later.

Okay. I will be there in a few minutes.

Kalim’s face brightened, a feeling of relief washing over him at Silver’s prompt reply. He didn’t know who else would be at the basketball game, but at least he could count on Silver to keep him company in the stands.

Moments after sending the text, Silver arrived at Kalim’s room and took a seat beside him on the edge of the bed.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Silver!” Kalim exclaimed, rolling over to face Silver with a distressed pout. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do about Jamil!”

“Is he still having a hard time with his and Azul’s breakup?” Silver asked, straightforward as ever.

“Yes!” Kalim wailed. “He’s completely miserable, but he doesn’t ever want to talk about it when I bring it up, so I just don’t know what to do to help!”

“Perhaps he needs more time,” Silver lightly suggested. “I imagine heartbreak is not an easy thing to experience. My father often says that ‘time heals all wounds,’ after all.”

“Maybe…” Kalim sat back up and scooted over beside Silver. “I just want to help him feel better sooner, yknow?!”

Silver nodded in silent understanding.

“They were so in love…” Kalim continued. “Jamil smiled more after you all came back from that trip to Fleur City… More than I’d seen him smile in years. And… And I refuse to believe it’s truly over!”

Kalim stood up, followed by a confused Silver.

“What do you mean?”

“I think there’s still hope! And I think they’re still in love!” 

Silver tilted his head. “Really? But then why would they break up?”

“I… don’t know!” Kalim sighed, furrowing his eyebrows. “But I do know it has to be a mistake. I think if they just gave each other a chance to talk it out, they’d understand each other better. Then maybe they could make up!”

Kalim headed to the door, Silver following behind. 

“I have to find a way to help them. I don’t know how, but… Jamil is my best friend!” He glanced down with a sullen expression and sighed again. “I owe it to him to try and help him find that happiness again…”

Silver nodded again. “That is a noble cause, and really nice of you, Kalim. I’ll help you however I can.”

“Really!?” Kalim halted his stride to turn and face Silver, eyes wide.

“Yes. Jamil and Azul are our friends. I don’t want to stand by and watch our companions suffer if there’s something we can do to lessen their anguish, and you would know better than anyone if there was a way to help Jamil. I trust your judgment.”

Kalim’s face relaxed into relief and delight. “Oh, I’m so glad…Thank you, Silver! I don’t have a plan yet, but I’m sure you and I can figure something out between the two of us!”

Really, how hard could it be?

[sweet-self-indulgence]

Bleeding Out Part 3: Bonus Pizza Intermission Chapter

I had this scene in my head while writing, but I didn’t want tonal whiplash in either of the other 2 chapters. So, here’s some bonus fluff where they suffer only a little bit. <- when I wrote this note I thought there would be significantly less emotions 🙃

Also, a formal apology to Damien fans. I love him too! I just couldn’t see him doing anything other than being non-verbal in response to this kind of stress.

“You all look like shit.”

The comment is so undeniably Sam. Relief washes over Mika. He’s here, he’s really here!

The other incubi are roused by the sound of his voice as well. James, Erik, and Matthew all start talking over each other

“We need updates on—”

“—energy is okay for now—”

“Dude! What happen—”

Mika tunes them out and focuses on Sam. Their intertwined hands squeeze reassuringly. A tear slides down her cheek and drops into her lap. Sam’s eyes go wide, he lifts his head a fraction before—

“Oh, shit he fainted!”

“Thank you, Matthew”, James sighs. He goes to slide his glasses up his nose but startles when he finds no glasses there. He looks down at his hand tainted a deep golden yellow. “We need energy, fast.”

Erik chimes in, “and to clean up”, gesturing with his bloodied hand towards Mika, Damien, and Matthew with their own copious blood stains.

“Not to mention the, uh—mess in the entryway…” Mathew adds.

“And sleep is a thing”, Mika’s so exhausted that her eyes feel like sandpaper.

“Okay.” James holds his hand up, “Mika, call in some delivery then go and wash up. You’ll have to get the food at the door. It typically takes 30 minutes for delivery. Erik and I can clean the foyer while Matthew and Damien wash up.”

“I’ll stay here with Sam I don’t need to wash up”, Mika volunteers.

James kneels in from of her and states gently, but firmly, “We need you to interact with the driver. We won’t be able to glamor until we get some food and rest.”

Mika opens her mouth to argue but is cut off, “You can take the first shift watching Sam while you make the call. I’ll come relive you, then switch with Erik. By then Matthew or Damien should be done.”

Reluctant to admit defeat, at least verbally, Mika pulls out her phone and starts dialing the closest pizza parlor. James nods and places a warm hand on her shoulder before scattering with the rest of his brothers.

She intends to draw the call out, maybe she can spend 15 minutes with Sam, but as soon as he hears the employee on the other end of the line ask, “What can I get for you?”, a ravenous hunger takes over her mind. She simply states, “One thousand dollars worth of pizza.”

For some reason this does not phase the employee, payment details are exchanged quickly, and Mika has the customary half hour until delivery.

James comes to relive her all too early. The sickening smell of blood and cleaning chemicals wafts in with him. Mika fights back the nausea but elects to take the back stairway up to her room.

When she enters her bathroom, her reflection takes her by surprise. The woman she sees is absolutely filthy. She’s soaked in blood from her feet to her knees, with splatter across her thighs. Her hands are stained almost to the elbows and there are generous smears across her cheek and forehead and into her hair.

Mika glances at her nice deep bathtub longingly then shakes her head. In my state I’d just be sitting in a pool of bloody water after five minutes. She sighs and turns the shower to its hottest setting. Dried blood cracks and falls onto the floor as Mika peels her grimy clothes off. Sam’s blood has soaked through to stain her skin in places.

She sits in the shower, scrubbing one body part at a time. When the water swirling the drain finally runs clear, Mika reaches up to turn off the water. She wraps a towel around herself as she steps out of the tub.

A hand reaches up to wipe the condensation off the mirror. Mika’s stomach roils as she notices the blood caked under her fingernails. She scrubs her hands frantically in the sink, jamming whatever tools she can finger under her nails to scrub the blood out.

The sink suddenly turns off. Mika startles as she sees Damien in the mirror. He’s dripping wet from his shower too. He gently grabs her fingers, pulls them up to his lips and kisses her knuckles softly. He grabs a towel and pats her hands dry. Mika winces as he rubs lotion into her hands, it stings where the skin is rubbed raw.

“I’m sorry”, Mika feels her chin wobble, “It’s just all too much right now…”

Damien rubs her arms, then drags her into her bedroom. He pulls sweatpants, a t-shirt, fuzzy socks, and cotton underwear from her dresser. As he turns to leave, Mika catches his elbow. Without argument, he sits at the end of the bed and dutifully stares at the floor while she puts on the clothes.

When she finishes, she sits beside him and pulls him in for a hug. Suddenly she notices he’s also wearing sweatpants. She knows how much he prefers his human form so it’s not that surprising. But no shirt?, she thinks.

Damien taps a finger on his horn in response. Of course, the neck hole…Mika shoots off the bed and produces one of Sam’s flannel button downs from the closet. Damien gratefully takes the offered shirt.

As he buttons it, the doorbell causes both of them to jump. Mika dashes to the front door, she snaps her eyes shut against the intrusive memories as her feet land on the final step. She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes to find the room surprisingly clean. The faint smell of bleach causes her to wrinkle her nose, but at least the stench of blood is gone.

The doorbell startles her out of her thoughts, and she runs to open the door, “Sorry I was—Wow that’s a lot of food!”

The delivery driver shrugs their shoulders, “Guy said you asked for a thousand dollars’ worth.”

“Right. Yeah. I was so hungry I didn’t know what I was saying!” Mika quickly slides the stacks of pizza boxes just inside the door.

As they turn away, the driver mumbles, “stupid rich people.”

Mika sighs in relief as she closes the door. She grabs a handful of boxes and meets the hungry incubi in the living room. The room is quiet at first as everyone devours their own pizza.

The aching, hollow, hunger she feels surprises Mika, even after devouring an entire pie by herself. Wordlessly, she grabs another armload of boxes from where she left them stacked by the door. The boys must feel the same way since they pounce on the second helping as quickly as the first.

A few slices in, Mika is able to focus on something other than eating again. “What the fuck?”, she blurts out. Four concerned expressions whip around to face her. Mika can only point towards James’ hand where he holds two slices of pizza folded on top of each other so that the cheese is inside two crusts.

“Is something wrong with my food?”

James looks genuinely alarmed, and Mika quickly clarifies, “Why are you holding it like that?!”

“I… To not make a mess?”

“…to not make a mess…”, Mika parrots quietly as she looks around the living room. We just waded through an ocean of blood together, we’re sitting on the floor cause it’s going to take a miracle to get all the blood out of the furniture… and James is worried about crumbs.

Mika can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of her. There’s a manic edge to her laughter, it’s a little too loud and a little too long.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Matthew starts laughing with her. Between laughs he manages to wheeze out, “Bro- Bro, that’s psychotic!”

“Don’t be melodramatic!” James snaps, “It’s the best way to keep the toppings from sliding off!”

At this, Erik fights through a smirk, “You’ve managed to take all the pleasure out of eating! I bet you can’t even taste anything other than dry crust!”

“Wha- You to?” James seems almost offended. He looks to Damien who only shakes his head solemnly.

The rest of the room devolves into another round of giggles as James stares at the ceiling, theatrically dejected. He holds his much-maligned pizza high and unfolds it with a flourish. Mika, Erik, and Matthew cheer as though a great victory has been won.

Matthew and Damien make a game out of trying to eat their remining slices in the strangest ways possible. Highlights include folding inside out and rolling the tip of the triangle around the crust.

Erik starts bartering slices of his plain cheese for some of James’ double pepperoni. Only after James absolutely swindles Erik out of 3 slices, does Mika mention “Oh there’s still some more out in the hall—”

“And you let this fiend take advantage of me?!”  Erik puts a hand over his heart in mock indignation.

Mika grins broadly and shrugs in response, “I just wanted to see how badly you’d get conned.”

James and Mika shared a quick laugh at Erik’s expense. Their moment is quickly interrupted by a startlingly loud noise from Damien. All heads whip in his direction as he shakes in the doorway with his hands over his mouth.

“I can explain—" Mika starts, but James, Erik, and Matthew are already up and out the door.

“I know I said we need to eat but…” James trails off as he stares at the ludicrous amount of pizza still in the entryway.

“I may—” another fit of giggles overtake Mika, “I may have let my stomach do the talking!”

Damien lets out another howl of laughter from where he’s leaning bodily on Erik. James and Matthew deliver a large stack of boxes and immediately begin bickering as they search for their favorite combinations of toppings.

“I’m not giving you the supreme, you’re just going to pick all the olives off of it.”

“Yeah, but you always want to add them to whatever you’re eating anyway, so it’s a win-win!”

Mika picks up empty boxes and starts stacking them in the corner.

“Incoming!” Matthew shouts.

She barely manages to dodge the airborne box, laughing as she has to support the tower as it lands haphazardly on top. “What was that?! You almost sent the whole stack down!”

“You need more finesse, Matthew!” Erik teases as he flings his empty box like a frisbee, it lands much more gracefully.

Soon it’s a new competition. The room cheerly wildly whenever a box lands. The boys take turns trying to teach Mika the proper form for box throwing, but she never manages to land hers.

It turns out five magic users, heavily depleted of energy, can eat a lot of pizza. By the time the limits of their stomachs catch up with their energy needs, they’ve made an impressive stack of boxes that’s almost as tall as Mika.

She feels punch-drunk. Everything is hilarious, even the fact that she’s giggling at everything that happens is funny. Mika presses her palms into her ribs in hopes of alleviating the muscle cramps from laughing too hard.

Matthew wipes tears from the corners of his eyes between fits of giggles, “I think—I think we need to go to bed before we explode!”

Another wave of chuckles ripples through the room. Damien gets up and pokes James in the ribs, “Hmm? Oh yes, we should have extras.”

The pair disappear briefly and return with a handful of vials. Erik and Matthew each grab one. Erik raises his hand in a toast, “To living another day!”

The other demons echo his words, and they down the potions in unison. Their appearance seems to ripple and blur, or maybe my eyes are just too tired. Mika rubs her eyes and represses a yawn. When she opens her eyes, the boys look human again.

Mika’s should sag a few inches as she releases tension she didn’t know she was holding. The normalcy of the situation warms her, it could almost be any other night when they all accidentally stay up too late. She turns to look at Sam for the first time in what feels like hours. He’s still in his demon form, unconscious, with pressure bandages tied tight around his middle.

Almost.

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

Emotions are high

Humans don't have evil cycles, or at least that's what they say. But given the fact that iruma had one, you had to say that the theory must be wrong. Maybe the more time humans spend surrounded by demonic energy, the more likely it is to occur.

So it seemed like you were also bound to have one at some point. The problem was as a human you were more or less used to pushing aside any negative feelings. So you had a lot buried deep, very deep within you, with nowhere to go. But well, lines do get crossed. And wires tightly strung do snap.

It started out as a normal enough day. You maintained your usual routine, and nothing had made you upset. If anything, everything was going great.... maybe that was the problem? You were so used to things going wrong and having more bad days than good that you weren't really sure what to do with yourself at this point.

If you had to be honest, it scared you. The realization that everything you put yourself through all your struggles were over. And the fact that there was nothing for you to fear aside from getting eaten... well, it stirred up all kinds of thoughts. Clutching your hands over your chest as you tried to breathe, you remembered why you always kept busy and in a rush all the time.

You hated being alone with your thoughts. Your head is playing with your fears and anxiety and always coming up with worse case scenarios. Grinding your clenched teeth, you tried to breathe more air through your noise as a familiar ache weighted down on your chest. 'Heavy,' you thought. Quickly pushing yourself forward and erging yourself to find someone anyone in the house.

You didn't want to share your feelings, but you certainly didn't want to be left alone with them. Distraction, you needed a distraction. The tears bubbled in your eyes, and your throat clenched tighter as you searched frantically in the ridiculously big mansion. "Darling? Is something wrong?" Sullivan, you heard Sullivan's voice calling out to you.

Without thinking without worrying about any kind of reaction, you threw your body into the demons direction. He caught you with no problem and cradled you to his chest. You clung to the fur on his suit and hid your face into his shoulder. No words were shared it seemed that he knew they weren't needed. Your body just trembled as you processed your surroundings now.

Listening to Sullivan's heartbeat, smelling the familiar scent of his pheromones that made your perfume. Feeling his hand gently, he rubbed your back as your body finally started to settle. The pressure is easing a small bit and allowing you to breathe better. Your eyes get droopy as you clung to the fur in his suit.

"Can I just stay with you today?" You voice barely above a hushed whisper, and you're so glad that demons have better hearing than humans as the chairdemon happily humms,"of course you can!" While still holding you close. You could hear him commenting about how cute you were being today and about how he was gonna spend all day cuddling with you.

You relaxed more in his hold. While he wasn't your real father, it was comforting to know that he was willing to give you the contact that you needed as you sorted through your overwhelming thoughts. Keeping you grounded. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw opera snapping a few pictures. You grumbled and turned your face to hide from the camera.

A small price to pay you suppose. A soft smile, painting your lips as your thoughts stop screaming at you, and you begin to feel tired. More tired than you had ever been before. Maybe a small nap might help you. Your eyes finally closing and you just find peace in the safety of your fathers embrace.

*few hours later*

You had woken up feeling different... maybe it was because you had finally addressed all the added weight you had been carrying around, or maybe it was just because you were not used to falling asleep in people's arms, but you just felt raw somehow. Noticing that you had been wrapped up in Sullivan's coat, you realized you weren't currently at home. You frowned.

One hand, you were happy that he took you with him. Even him leaving his coat meant he didn't intend on staying away long. But well... for some odd reason, you were feeling extremely clingy.

Slipping your arms through his coat, you began making your way out of the room. Once in the hall, you recognized that you were standing in the general meeting hall for the 13 crowns. You hmmed your displeasure as you made your way to the noisy meeting room. Loud, they were always so loud. And not in the good and fun way like home was.

You slammed open the door and glared at them, feeling nothing but raw irritation when you realized that your father wasn't in the room. The ones who were attending the meeting today stared at you in silent shock as if unsure about your presence.

Your hair was wild and out of order due to bedhead. Your eyes shone with your emotions. The fact that you who were usually calm and polite to those you met had marched down the halls, slamming open doors was a complete 180 to how they had known you. This must be you on an evil cycle. Course what they don't know is you're usually just grouchy after you wake up.

You spot opera in the corner of the room, and you find yourself speaking out of character. "Tell Papa that I am not happy that he left me to go play with his friends." You're words simply, but the biting hiss seemed to have all in the room on edge. Opera bowed and quickly ducked out a side door, leaving you alone in a room with the most powerful demons.

Henri tried to be the one to find order in this situation and tried to speak. "How dare you bar -" "Shut your mouth. It's not like you were having a private conversation. I could hear you yelling at each other from across the hall." You snapped. Henri's horns twitched, and he shifted uncomfortably. You suddenly had all the crowns' attention at this. You were not to be messed with today, it seemed.

"Sweetheart! Did you have a nice nap?" You tilt your head to the side, eyeing the tall demon as he skips into the room. You could feel your eyes twitching. "Sit" it was an order, a command directed at Sullivan, one of the highest ranking demons in hell... everyone paused with baited breath, waiting to see what punishment you might receive for demanding he submit to you.

There was no punishment. Although the older demon was startled by your personality swap, he figured it was similar to what iruma had gone through. Besides, he would do anything for his precious child. So he sat immediately right there on the floor. Cause several crowns to fall out of their own chairs in shock.

You let out a pleased hum before walking over and sitting in his lap. Sighing once, that raw and irritating feel had died down from the contact. "I'm gonna take another nap. And by the time I wake up, we better be home." The thinly veiled threat making all in the room shudder as they watched you snuggle back into place. Sullivan squealed happily. "Soooo cute!"

Suffice to say you were an emotional cuddle bug that did not like to be left alone during such times. All had better drop whatever plans they had for the day if you deemed you needed affection. And none of the 13 crowns could ever look you in the eye again without remembering that icy tone and those killer eyes.