#praying i get a stupid little costume

[triple-starsss]

cant believe im gonna be busy working as an elf during triple stars' first anniversary

[lucybellwood]

Lemme tell you a gay little story about an eagle.

Our town (~9,000 people) has a couple garages, but there's a big one on the main drag. My family has been going there for decades. I drive past it every day.

There used to be a huge pine tree on the corner of their lot, but last year it became a hazard and had to be taken down.

Shortly thereafter I drive by and see they've hired a guy to chainsaw sculpt the stump into a bald eagle.

Birds own my heart, but nationalism makes me twitchy. I withhold outright condemnation of the eagle, but I'm skeptical. (The original owner—an objectively Good Dude—sold the business to a younger couple a few years ago, and I don't have any knowledge of their whole deal.)

Then it turns out someone on staff is really into making costumes for the eagle. Every holiday. Every month. Stuffed turkey, witch costume, menorah headpiece, bunny ears. These people love to dress their bird.

The changing of the eagle suit becomes a source of joy every time I drive through town.

Until June, when the eagle is bare.

Now look, maybe I'm expecting too much asking my garage to celebrate Pride. But this is a small town. Every time I drive by that stupid eagle—this thing that has previously brought me so much joy—I feel hurt. I feel reminded that there are plenty of people in my liberal bubble who don't consider my community worthy of celebration. I drive to work, I feel bad. I drive home, I feel bad. The eagle is mocking me.

Then my A/C quits working.

So I book an appointent to bring my car in—and realize what I have to do.

I pick all this up at a thrift store for under ten bucks. I print the shirt with some weird heat-transfer fabric crayons I find in a cupboard. I loop gold elastic around the sunglasses and pray they'll fit on the eagle's head. (It is also important to draw your attention to the price of the feather boa.)

(Nice.)

My reasoning is thus: if I show up with a complete costume ready to go, someone will have to look me in the eye and say "We don't believe in that," at which point I'll be finding a new garage. But if they let me dress the eagle, then people in town get to have the joy I've been missing since the start of the month.

I listen to a lot of hype-up jams on my way over. I hate confrontation. I also don't wanna have to find another garage. I want to believe that this decision isn't actively antagonistic, but I'm not particularly hopeful.

I talk through the A/C issue with the guy at the desk, hand over my keys, then take a deep breath.

"Who's in charge of the eagle?"

"Oh, that's all Dylan. Second bay from the end."

I walk down the row of hydraulic lifts and find a disarmingly smiley middle-aged man pouring fluid through a funnel. I introduce myself and explain that, since the Pride parade is this Sunday and the eagle seems to be missing a costume, I have taken the liberty of making one myself, and can I get his blessing to go put it on?

Dylan grins this absolutely giant grin and goes

"Oh hell yeah."

So that's what's up now.

Happy Pride.

[pearlcigs]

⋆ i know my girlfriend is a . . . witch! — tlou discord server

witch costume!reader x ellie williams

summary ⋆ ellie is normally very good at keeping her cool in public, but the way your tits look in that tight witch dress... god, it's like you put a love spell on her.

warnings ⋆ 1.70k ⋆ halloween smut, tried not to describe the outfit too much i hate that shit too but i had to for the plot my bad yall, ellie LOVESSS tits, car sex, subbyish ellie, pet names (babe), choking (e!receiving), getting caught :(

it was chilly, just as every halloween night that you could remember since you were a kid. you remember long sleeves under your princess costume and a puffy jacket once the night was over to keep you warm in the barren cold. you can reminisce fondly now and thank your parents for keeping you warm unlike back then when you thought they were trying to ruin your costume. however, your parents didn't take you out for halloween anymore, so you had no one to follow you around with a coat and reprimand you until you wore leggings under your dress.

you knew you would be cold when you found the simple black, velvety dress, choosing it since you knew you'd wear it more than once and your hard earned money wouldn't go to waste. it was simple, no broom stick or book of spells to go with the outfit, only a small witch's hat headband and the hope that one of the buttons didn't rip open when you took a deep breath. okay, maybe you got a size too small in your haste to find a halloween costume for the stupid party you had to attend with your girlfriend. it would do, right? you could just go exchange it in the morning for a larger size and in the mean time pray that you wont pass out from the lack of air flowing to your lungs.

you did have to admit though, the tightness of the dress accentuated your features, highlighting the best aspects of your body, more than just a little bit of cleavage being shown. you didn't have time to complain or admire your dress though, already far too late. you finished getting ready, a pair of thigh highs to complete the witchy vibe, fixing your makeup to be just right, a pair of shoes that were sure to give you blisters. by the time you had arrived at the party, people were already drunk. you fought the urge to roll your eyes, looking through the sea of intoxicated mindless college students, trying to find your lovely girlfriend who made you come to this shit show.

you spotted her in one of the corners, dina and jesse by her side. and of course they were wearing a cringey couple costume, a bold 's' on dina's white shirt and a bold 'p' on jesse's black shirt. you laughed to yourself, shaking your head as you pushed through the crowd to make it to them. ellie caught your eyes from across the room, dorky smile on her face to accompany her dork costume. she wore a batman shirt along with an attached cape, on brand for her. when you got closer, ellie could see what you chose to wear, her eyes widening as her eyes roamed over you. was it hot in there or was it just ellie?

in a matter of moments you were at her side, her heart beating out of her chest at the way you looked. she always said she had the prettiest girlfriend in the world, and tonight, you were proving it. she couldn't take her eyes off you, even as you leaned in to give a small kiss on the cheek to greet her. "wow... just wow." ellie finally speaks up, her hand that wasn't holding an alcoholic beverage finding the curve of your waist. you laugh, amused at her dorky reaction. "i got a size too small, do you think it's noticeable?" you inquired, smoothing out the wrinkles on the dress with your palm.

"it's, well, i mean, i don't..." she stutters over her words, this time earning laughs from jesse and dina. she didn't hear their laughs though, her heartbeat too loud in her ears. "it's fine, yeah, fine." she swallows, squeezing your waist slightly. it was no doubt that you were a very attractive woman and ellie made sure you knew that always. "i mean, beautiful. you look beautiful. not fine, beautiful." her words gave you butterflies in your stomach, even if she did butcher them at first. "smooth, ellie. real smooth." dina chimes in, big grin on her face from watching her friend try to flirt.

"shut up. the ladies love me." she protests, squeezing your waist even tighter and taking a sip of her drink. maybe she just needed some liquid courage. "ladies? plural?" you question, teasing her for her cocky attitude. "lady. lady! obviously just you. obviously. if any other girl wanted me, well, i'd just have to drop kick them, y'know babe?" you can't help the snort laugh that comes out of you at her nervous attempt to smooth things over. normally she was so calm and collected around you, but right now, she couldn't even think straight. the only thing she could think about was your tits and how good they looked in that dress.

the way the fabric hugged them, watching your chest rise and fall as you breathed. with each breath you took, they threatened to spill out. god, ellie just wanted to leave marks all over your chest. you could see clear as day that ellie was staring. the way she was ogling at you was making you confident and maybe a little horny. time went on, talking with some people, getting your own alcoholic drink (because what's a halloween party without getting drunk), even convincing ellie to dance with you. and still, the whole time, ellie was mesmerized by you.

it was well after midnight, jesse and dina no where to be found. "of course," ellie thinks to herself. they always disappeared when it was time to leave. ellie didn't want to wait any longer, leading you to the car. you told her you could just take an uber, same as how you got here, but she protested that she could take you home. the two of you waited in the car, ellie fiddling with the aux after texting jesse you were waiting in the car for them. the window was rolled down, reminding you of the chilly october breeze. you rolled the window back up, not wanting to catch a cold.

you stared at your window, watching kids with their parents roam around with their costumes and buckets of candy. you wanted that to be you and ellie one day. however, while you were thinking of ellie wholesomely, she was still drooling over your tits. i mean, you were alone now, a few marks wouldn't hurt anyone. "hey. you wanna, y'know?" she smiles awkwardly as she nods her head to the backseat. "just until dina and jesse get their asses out here." she continues on, trying her hardest to convince you to make out with her right now. she wanted to taste you on her lips.

you rolled your eyes at her feeble attempt to convince you but somehow her loser charm worked on you. and before you knew it, you were both in the backseat, grinding down on ellie as she kissed your neck and chest. pants and heavy breaths filled the car, half-assed moans falling from both of your lips. "your tits look so good. like.. fuck, babe." she rambled, leaving the marks she craved to leave all night on the exposed skin of your breast. "this dress is incredible." she continued on, just praising your entire existence at this point. "would look even better off though." she smiled like a nerd.

"dina and jesse will be here soon..." you tried to weakly protest, not making any effort to stop her as she unbuttons the dress. your tits immediately spilled out, and suddenly being able to breathe better. "they're probably somewhere fucking." ellie counteracted, not wasting a second to put her mouth on your nipples. you gripped her shoulders, grinding your hips down onto hers and cursing under your breath. you were so sensitive, craving ellie in a way you hadn't before. maybe it was a full moon, but then again it didn't really matter. all that mattered was ellie tongue gliding over your supple skin.

"i could cum just from looking at you." her voice is raspy, becoming drunk on your taste. "really?" you moan out, hands exploring ellie's body and sliding underneath her shirt. her skin was so warm, so inviting. "'course, babe." she mumbles, too focused on marking up your perfect body. "i need you so bad." you admitted, bringing one of yoru exploring hands up to her neck. she looks up at you, eyes almost rolling back at the notion of you choking her. she presses her lips against yours, her hand fumbling to find it's way under your dress and into your panties. she ran her fingers through your folds before pressing against your clit.

you moaned into the kiss, moving your hips with no rhythm to desperately feel the pleasure you crave. you pull away, eagerly lifting ellie's stupid batman shirt over her head to reveal her sports bra. you dragged your hand down her body, starting at her neck all thw way down to the button of her jeans, all while careless whines fall from your swollen lips. it was your turn to leave marks now, doing your best to keep your focus as you put your lips on her neck. "fuck, babe. this is so hot." ellie licked her lips and tilted her head back to really enjoy your kisses. her fingers never stop, working at your clit like that was their only job.

the windows of the car started to fog now, past hand prints from previous moments like this reappearing and being lewdly illuminated from the moon. just when you were about to unbutton ellie's pants, there was a knock on the window, pulling you both out of your blissful state. it was hard to see through clouded over windows, but the recognizable white shirt with an 's' on it made both you and ellie's heart rates pick up. ellie hand was out of your underwear faster than it went in. frantically, you rebuttoned your dress and ellie struggled to get her shirt back on. "of fucking course." ellie grumbled, and you were thinking the same exact thing. oh well, maybe next time, or maybe on the car ride home if ellie was feeling bold.

[revelboo]

thank you again for all these wonderful stories 🙏 I was wondering if you'd ever consider writing something for Rumble? I have a big soft spot for the guy and I feel like he'd love finally being bigger than someone

Sure

Alcohol Eyes

IDW Rumble x Reader

• Frag, where’s Frenzy? And why had he let his twin talk him into this stupidity? A soft body brushes against him swaying with the thump of the heavy bass pulsing through the club, the flashing neon lights dazzling his optics. Around him costumed humans laugh and dance, bodies brushing against him, because to them he’s just another organic in a costume. He belongs and it’s such an odd feeling. Especially when little fingers catch his servos and turning he finds a human grinning up at him, a pair of crooked costume wings drooping on your back, one wing partially crushed.

• “Wow, you’re tall,” you laugh, clinging to the stranger’s hand. Somewhere behind you, there’s the sound of your ex calling your name and you tug at your new, big friend slipping between him and the guy hunting for you. As buzzy as you are, your ex is wasted and you have no intention of letting him get his rough hands on you ever again. You have enough scars for a lifetime. No, you’d rather take your chances with a complete stranger in a weirdly elaborate costume. “You went all out, huh?” Reaching up to slide your palm over what feels like metal panels. Wasn’t all that heavy and hot? The guy must be sweating in all that.

• Freezing, his lips part as the little human runs soft hands over him, head craning to smile up at him. And it’s so strange to have to look down at someone. Your expression becomes pinched as someone yells, then you’re reaching up and those unbelievably soft hands are cupping his helm to tug his head down. And a warm mouth suddenly presses against his, electric through him.

• That jerk is right there, bound to see you any moment so you pull the guy down to you and kiss him, praying your ex passes by. That this guy plays along. Not expecting for him to curl an arm around you to cup the back of your head or for the other big hand to grip your butt and drag you flush up against him. And those hands are warm as his mouth moves against yours, taking over the kiss and making it something demanding and hungry and deliciously unexpected.

• Primus, help him as you mold yourself to him, little hands clinging as your mouth opens to let him in, let him taste as his glossa explores, sliding against your tongue. His servos tangle in your hair, his other hand tightening on you to keep you from trying to escape, because whatever this is, he wants it to last. Growling when you break free, eyes hooded. “Slow down, sport,” your voice is lower, huskier as you nip at his bottom lip with a laugh, that sound going straight through him in a flush of need.

• “Don’t go,” he growls, big hands flexing against you as his already rough voice deepens. It’s not a request so much as a heated demand. And oh, it’s tempting. No one’s ever kissed you like that before, hungry and almost desperate. Reaching up, you curl your arms around his neck and his own arms tighten possessively around you. You’d come to the club alone, but if you have your way, your unwitting hero is coming home with you for a real thank you.

Next

[jensthwa]

woo's prelude: a clown's remedy to heal a broken heart (JWY x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

A drunk and kind of akward conversation inside of a closet is the start of Wooyoung's journey into healing his broken heart. Only he doesn't really know the name of the Scarlet Witch that helped mend a heart that wasn't supposed to break anymore, even if she starts plaguing his thoughts and dreams after that.

PAIRING: wooyoung x fem!reader.

GENRE: halloween hookup to [redacted] (we'll get to that when we need to).

WORD COUNT: 11.9k

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, drinking and drunk behavior, mature language, insults, woo getting his heart broken by his ex girfriend even though they're friends and they haven't been romantically involved in YEARS my god he's a dummy, reader getting her heart broken too, some self worth issues, frat bros being stupid and getting drinks throw at them for stepping over the line, howl!wooyoung (not for people with weak hearts and strong imaginations), making out, biting, description of female anatomy, sweet dirty talk and praising , fingering, semi-public (they're at a party, does that count?) and protected sex (wrap it up please), switching them positions for him, masturbation, hook up talk and the start of something new that we won't see for now but soon!

NOTES: hi everyone! decided to do a halloween drop on halloween day because spooky season is not over until i get this story out of my system it seems! this story is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH / SHOW & TELL UNIVERSE but can be read as a stand alone finally yay! THIS A PRELUDE TO WOO'S STORY, a little taste of what's to come for him and his boo (see what i did there?). this took place BEFORE we can't be friends (san's story) and will be placed accordingly on the masterlist to clear any future confusion. there's mentions of the characters that show up in wcbf so if u want to better understand the dynamics, you can read that but it's def not needed!

this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: october 31st 2024 at midnight!

masterlist

There's a particular way one too many tequilas can make a room spin that Wooyoung absolutely adores. 

When it happens, he lets himself catch the world swirling around him before closing his eyes and praying for a little bit of lucidity to come to him so he can get his drunk ass home safely. 

As he opens his eyes, his face scrunches at what he sees: San, dressed as Gomez Addams, waving a hand in front of him. It takes him a little to remember where he is. 

It's a bit extra confusing with all the costumes and strangers and the music blasting through the speakers but when it finally clicks, he's grateful that he's not completely gone yet. 

“Are you good?” He can faintly hear San ask over the music, San’s girlfriend by his side dressed as Morticia, eyeing him with a quirked brow. 

Why is San with her? He will never, ever get it. 

Kyungmi is not really right for him. It's been a few months already since they made it official and Wooyoung can just tell. He always tells. He's not as oblivious as everyone paints him to be. 

There's one girl who's right for San but, in all honesty, Wooyoung is too tired to fight him on it. 

San always shoots back with a comment about him and Gyuri, his ex girlfriend (now best friend) and it always brings his mood down for some stupid reason. 

He's oblivious to why that happens. By choice, of course, but oblivious nonetheless. 

He prefers it that way. 

Wooyoung would nod, but he knows it's dangerous to do so “Just peachy.” 

“Why don't you—” San starts but he interrupts. 

“Some air and water,” he smiles, taking the water bottle from his friend’s hand “Waaaay ahead of you, babe.” 

Kyungmi rolls her eyes “Quit calling my boyfriend babe, dude.” 

San laughs, Kyungmi does not. 

“Don’t be jealous because he loves me more than you,” sticking his tongue out, he stumbles his way around them both “I'll be back.” 

He focuses on putting one foot in front of the other until he reaches a very big window. It's larger than usual. 

Oh. 

It has a door. A door that slides! 

It's a balcony. Amazing, just what he needs: To be a safety hazard and a possible traumatic experience for everyone at the party. 

He should probably turn back around before he's accidentally leaping over the edge but then he sees it. 

He sees her.

Corpse bride. Her blue makeup being wiped off by somebody's tongue in a secluded corner of the backyard of this stupid frat house the friend group ended up for the night. 

Gyuri is kissing someone. 

His chest tightens, his mouth drops slightly and his heart thumps hard enough for him to feel it on his throat. 

Why is she doing that? 

She's wearing matching costumes with him. She carefully picked them out, she ordered everything a month and a half ago and now she's kissing some… Some… Attempt at a Superman costume. 

Which is pretty fucking hilarious because how do you fuck up a Superman costume? 

But Wooyoung is not laughing. He's hurting, he's fucking pissed and, at the same time, he can't pull his eyes away from her. From them. 

Is feeling this pathetic something that would fit Víctor?

Vector? 

Whatever his name is? 

He's never seen the Corpse Bride, so he doesn't remember the name of the dude he's dressed up as. He just knows he wants to wipe the pale complexion Gyuri painted on him off. 

Off. Off. Off. Out. He needs to leave. 

But he ends up going back inside and downing another shot before he can really think about it, giggling to San and pretending nothing happened because who the fuck is he to Gyuri to get upset over it? 

Her ex, sure. But that happened a long time ago, so it doesn't count anymore. 

So it doesn't really matter. Nothing really matters when he finds Yeosang (dressed as the Phantom of the Opera) and drags him to the dance floor for what it feels like forever.

And then, one thing leads to the other and he's sitting on the floor, in a circle of people he doesn't even know, playing spin the bottle. 

Or is it seven minutes in heaven? A vampire and a fairy kissed in front of him half a second ago, but Zuko and the creepy doll from that one netflix show got up and into a closet like… six minutes ago. 

He didn't really pay attention to the rules. 

Oh, well, he's about to find out anyway! 

Fingers grasping the soju bottle in the middle of the circle, he carefully inspects the faces of everyone sitting there, expectantly looking at him. 

His vision is a little blurry but he wants to pick whoever strokes his fancy the most to try and get rid of the funny feeling he gets when he sees Gyuri walk right in front of him and head for the drink table. 

He decides quickly that, as long as it makes him forget the image of that dude's tongue down the mouth of the love of his life, he's good. 

So he spins the bottle. It spins and it spins and it spins and everyone leans forward in anticipation until it stops in front of someone. 

There's someone on his left that audibly gasps and Wooyoung looks at them before his eyes focus on the person he has to… Kiss? Get in a closet with? 

What does he need to do? 

“You can skip her if you like,” some dude with red paint dripping down his forehead and cargo shorts tells him. He's not even sitting down in the circle but lying on the couch closest to it “She's in a bad mood.” 

That’s when the Scarlet Witch that the bottle landed on rolls her eyes and gets up. 

Wooyoung thinks he's about to lose his turn and wait for the next round or until the bottle lands on him when she offers him her gloved up hand. 

He gets up. He's a little bit more sober now, alert as he plants his feet on the carpet again just to not make a fool of himself, throwing a glance at Gyuri just to find out she's not actually looking at him at all.

The pang on his chest comes back. 

“Don't throw a drink on him just for trying to kiss you too, sweetheart, that's what the game is all about,” the same dude from before tells her as they both pass by the couch and head for the space Zuko and the doll who, he assumes, just got done with their seven minutes was occupying “Don’t say I didn't warn ya, Wooyoung!” 

Who is this obnoxious motherfucker and why does he know his name? 

It takes two and a half hazy steps until the darkness of the small space engulfs him and Scarlet Witch. 

It's one of those long closets with narrow walls that leave absolutely no space to move around when you actually need to put something away, but it's a perfect nook to make out. 

He would know, he's been in this situation many times. 

He lets go of the stranger's hand, only because she turns away from him and then she huffs once the door closes. Wooyoung hears a thump against the wood of it, so he assumes she hit it with her fist or her boot. 

“Fucking asshole.” She mutters under her breath but he hears it. 

It dawns on him that the reason he sat down to potentially kiss strangers that night was to be seen. 

Wooyoung wanted people to see him so they knew he was completely fine and, as soon as Gyuri walked into the room, his motivation was for her to see him doing completely fine. 

Cool. He's cool. He's one of the actual cool guys at the university, he's been told so before. 

He also wanted her to feel a little bit jealous but now, eyes closed for a few seconds to try and regain composure after whatever just happened, he realizes that she probably wouldn't even care.

So this whole thing is useless anyway. Only now he gets to meet (kiss?) someone dressed as one of his favorite characters of the decade. 

There, as his eyes adjust to the minimum light that's filtering under the door, he realizes his mistake: he said nothing to defend her. 

In his defense, his drunk brain processes the information a little too late. And, in her defense, Scarlet Witch seemed like she didn't really care what the asshole said in the first place. 

Now he notices that's not true. 

It's hard to make out her figure but he hears another soft thump and when he turns his head to the right angle, he's able to make out that she just leaned against the door. 

He opens his mouth to apologize, he thinks, but she beats him to it. 

“We don't have to kiss or… fuck or whatever people do with their seven minutes.”

“Wow,” he laughs, his back finding a wall and almost knocking something placed on a tiny shelf next to his arm “I promise I wasn't expecting you to—” 

“Yeah, yeah, save it,” she lets out a breath. “If you want to tell them that we kissed, that's fine by me. I know how your frat bros behave when you don't do what you're supposed to.”

“They're not my frat bros. In fact, they are not even my bros,” he frowns, and slides against the wall because his legs are threatening to give in. He's suddenly very, very exhausted “I don't know them.” 

“Isn’t your name Wooyoung?” 

“Y-yes?” 

“Then you know them,” she shoots back, matter-of-factly “And I'm not interested in kissing any of your kind tonight.” 

“My kind?” 

“Men,” she clarifies and Wooyoung can feel her smile in her next words “Although frat bros are a different kind of species altogether.” 

“I'm not a frat bro!” 

It takes a second and his honest frustration but she laughs “Sure.” 

In the dark, with his ego bruised and his heart crushed, Wooyoung thinks it's a pretty laugh. 

He thinks it's even prettier when he hears a little ruffling and then her body heat invades his space, kind of. She just sat beside him, thigh against his and perfume reaching his nostrils. It's a mix of something sweet and something citrusy. 

It's really nice.

He gulps before asking “W-what was that about?” and then points to the door like she can see him. 

“He's in one of my classes. He thought he could kiss me and when I said no, because fucking look at the state of him, he tried to kiss me anyway,” she says all chirpy but Wooyoung picks up on the sarcastic tone and let's out a soft ew at the story “I preventively threw my drink on him because I got a little freaked out and now I'm sober and pissed off. I think he's a little upset about me thinking he was about to take advantage of me.” 

He grimaces “You can't never be too sure, though.” 

She hums and then sighs a: “I know.” 

“I don't even know his name but he does sound like a fucking asshole.” 

“Why does he know you?” 

Wooyoung shrugs and he's a little glad it's dark. He's not exactly smiling, his playful nature not coming out at the moment. “I'm a pretty popular guy.” 

“I don't know you.” 

“Well, I don't know you either, so we're even,” he shrugs again and it's kind of hypocritical because, to be fair, he didn't get a good look at her face at all “I just know you s-smell nice.” He murmurs, tripping on his words like a babbling drunk idiot. 

Maybe because that's what he is right now.

“Thanks… I guess.” She sounds weirded out by that but he's not sober enough to care. 

“You're so welcome.” 

There's silence in which Wooyoung does nothing but try to find her in the dark. He eventually does, given the fact that the light from under the door casts a little on her face now that she's sitting down.

He doesn't recognize her, which is odd. Wooyoung knows almost everyone. At least her voice would ring a bell but there's absolutely no frivolous memories with this girl and he kind of likes it that way. 

If she doesn't know him, she doesn't know about Gyuri. That's a plus because there's no reason for her to be walking on eggshells around him like every other student at the university who finds him attractive. 

There's another beat of silence between them both, music blasting outside and making the floor slightly thrum underneath him. 

He's not usually this quiet. When he doesn't feel like crying, he's usually very annoyingly outspoken. Mind glowing in red alert, he practically stumbles his words out to fix that. 

“I like your costume.” 

“You do? People didn't get it.” 

“That's because they care more about Captain America than Wanda Maximoff,” he scoffs. “It’s the Multiverse of Madness one, hm?” 

“Wandavision post-credit scene,” she whispers back and Wooyoung nods, encouraging her to go on even if she can't see him. He thinks she's about to maybe rant about the show or the character or the party or anything that can help him forget, but she does the opposite “I, uhm… Also like your costume.” 

There's a tint of shyness in her voice, like she's not used to being nice. 

“Victor, right?”

“I've never seen the movie.” He makes sure to clarify before she asks him about it. 

“You don't really have to see the movie to know the character, Wooyoung,” he feels when her head hits the wall slightly, on purpose maybe “I don't like him anyway.” 

“Then why did you say you liked my costume?” 

“I lied. It's called trying to keep the conversation going,” her explanation makes no sense to him in that state of inebriation, but he lets it go “I don't exactly know what to talk about when I drag someone into a closet.” 

Wooyoung pauses and then laughs to himself “We were not exactly supposed to talk in the first place. Have you never done this before?” 

“No. I don't usually go to frat parties,” she says after a second where Wooyoung was met with silence, a moment where he wondered if his question was out of line “Coming here tonight was a mistake.” 

He finds himself asking without thinking, again “Then why did you?”  

“I'm so bored.” 

That takes him by surprise. 

“Bored?” 

“Yes, I'm bored. My dorm room mattress has a hole in it because I never go out and… Well, there's a boy I liked that came here tonight, so, I came as well.” 

Liked? 

Wooyoung doesn't really ask her about it. 

Eyebrows practically touching his scalp, Wooyoung thinks for a split second she's talking about him but that's not really possible because they've never met until now, she said it herself. 

“Well did you find him?” 

She takes in a shaky breath and then lets it out. Sadness suddenly fills the constricted space and Wooyoung isn't sure if it's just him or if Scarlet Witch is going through a heartbreak as well. 

“Yeah, I did” she whispers back and doesn't elaborate, so he doesn't ask “There's a bride going around the party. I saw her, she looks really cool, maybe you could—” 

“She's my best friend,” he interrupts because the mention of Gyuri, so directly at that, has his heart racing with anxiety. So long for her not knowing about his ex girlfriend “We, uh… We dated in highschool and we stayed friends, so it's not really happening again.” 

“Oh… Do you want it to happen again?” 

“W-what?” 

“I mean,” she laughs a little awkwardly, like she's nervous “You sounded very sad when you said it, a little angry too.” 

“Did I?” 

He definitely didn't mean to sound like that at all. 

Scarlet Witch hums in agreement and he really thinks about what to answer. The short answer is a simple yes but, if he's being honest, he already knows that they're not good for each other. Not like that, anyway. 

“I don't really know what to tell you.” 

“You don't have to tell me anything,” she says right away and it calms his nerves a bit. “Just know that there's no real helping when you like someone, it doesn't matter if you thought you didn't like them anymore. It just happens. It sucks but it just happens.” 

The unsolicited advice doesn't really help him, if he's being honest. It stirs something inside him that he wants to keep hidden, concealed, so he turns the topic of conversation away from him. 

Away from Gyuri. 

“Speaking from experience?” He asks, half jokingly.

“Yeah, so I can confidently say that it fucking sucks.” 

She turns to him with a smile (he's hyper focused on her, there's no way he could've missed that) before laughing and a tiny force lifts up the corners of his lips. That's one pretty laugh.

Maybe, in an universe where was a little bit more sober, he could've actually spent these seven minutes kissing her. 

Kissing her. 

He wants to kiss her. That's going to take his mind off Gyuri, sure. 

His heart beats quicker this time, for a completely different reason. 

He leans in. 

He's going to kiss her. 

She clears her throat “Are you going to the party next saturday?” 

Huh? 

Oh. 

“Yes, I think so,” he's a little breathless and probably blushing because of what he was about to do “Why?” 

After the night he had, he thought he was going to struggle to even bring out this sort of excitement out of himself. When Scarlet Witch raises her gloved hand and brings it to the nape of his neck, he wonders if she actually has magical powers. 

It effectively distracts him, it sobers him up and makes him feel drunker at the same time. Short nails caress the skin where her fingers lay and then she grasps the strands of hair sticking out, not gelled down for the sake of his costume. 

“Is this real?” 

What does she mean? This feeling taking over his body? The heat that spreads all around? He's not sure if it is, if that's what she's asking. 

Hia mouth feels like cotton when he asks “Is what real?” 

She laughs softly again “The hair, the length.” 

Oh. 

“Yes, it is.” 

Maybe he should've taken his time in answering because, as soon as he does, her touch leaves him. 

“You should go as Howl,” she murmurs and he melts a little “It'll suit you better than a Tim Burton character, I think.” 

He laughs, it's short lived and through the cloud he feels he's on right now “You think?” 

“Yeah,” he can't see her, but he knows she's nodding “Even if you claim that you're not a frat bro. You know, the whole seducing ladies and stuff.” 

Wooyoung laughs “Howl did not seduce any ladies, it was all a rumor!” 

“He did, in the book.” 

“Oh, I don't read.” 

“See?” she clicks her tongue and then her shoulder touches his, teasingly “Total frat bro.” 

Wooyoung thinks about it again. 

Kissing her. Now out of pure want instead of selfish motivations. 

She said she didn't want to, earlier, if he recalls correctly and that's okay. 

He still wants to though, so… 

The question is on the tip of his tongue, he even thinks he makes out the start of it before it's cut off by the sound of the door opening. 

Closing his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light, it takes a few seconds for them to adjust to it and, when they do, he finally sees her face. 

He should've kissed her. 

The costume she's wearing it's cool, sure, and she's even wearing a wig that looks very expensive so he confirms the fact that she likes to dress up sometimes but that's not really what amazes him. 

Maybe it's because he sort of already formed a judgment of her character but she's beautiful and he really, really, really, should've kissed her. 

“Time's up, you're hogging the closet. Oh, and someone is looking for you,” the girl dressed up as Zuko points in his direction and then, because neither of them makes an effort to stand up, she nods and steps aside “I'll give y'all a minute.” 

Scarlet Witch laughs and Wooyoung wishes he could share the sentiment. At this point, he thought he would be done with a makeout session and in desperate need for another drink to keep the night going. 

Now, he wants nothing but take her hand in his and find a quiet spot where he can keep getting to know her. Maybe get her number. 

And he swears he's going to ask, but the universe is not in his favor. When she turns to him, he loses all ability to speak and when she leans in to peck his cheek his breath hitches and he feels like a teenager getting a crush for the first time. 

“In case you need to tell anyone I kissed you,” she whispers in secrecy, leaning back a bit “So you don't have to lie. I hate liars.” 

He gulps “Noted.” 

She doesn't even give him the opportunity to escort her out of tiny space: she gets up, bolts for the door and when Wooyoung's brain catches on to the gigantic problem of his own creation, as he gets out of the closet and looks around for her, she's already out of his sight. 

“Are you good?” 

It's the second time tonight San has asked that. It's not annoying by any means but when it comes with the concerned faces of Yeosang, Kyungmi and Gyuri he has to think his response through.

But the Scarlet Witch's words echo in his mind. 

I don't like liars. 

“No, I'm not,” he says, a little out of breath “I didn't get her name.” 

This time, the entire crew joins him, Gyuri, Kyungmi and Yeosang to go to the party. 

He wishes his other best friend came along as well, but she's really not that fond of parties in general. 

Which sucks because she would look good in a costume and maybe that would prompt San to act on his feelings and break up with Kyungmi in the process. 

She was a pain in his ass tonight. Didn't really help his nerves at all. 

Yes, he's nervous about possibly seeing Scarlet Witch again. 

Yes, he thought about her all week and tried his best to find her on social media but couldn't. 

Yes, he's aware tonight's theme for the party is a mix of a masquerade and a normal costume party or whatever the sorority organizing it said in their invite. 

And yes, he's dressed up as Howl Pendragon, wearing a black and white mask that he borrowed from one of the girls in the group. They decorated it with little gold and pink stars and it looks cute on him but that's not the point! 

Masks complicate his quest for the night. 

He hopes that she's here tonight. He also hopes that the costume alone is enough for her to recognize him: There's a lot of people here tonight. 

Even waiting in line to pay the cover fee for the party felt stuffy. 

He turns to Gyuri and she's laughing at something her date for the night is telling her. That's right, for the first time in many, many years, Wooyoung is not her date. 

Superman is. He's dressed in the same costume he saw him in last weekend, he thinks he even sees as smudge of Gyuri’s corpse bride body paint on it. 

She's Wonder Woman for the night. So original. 

Wooyoung feels bad as soon as the bitter thoughts go through his head. He didn't even know they exchanged numbers, let alone kept chatting to coordinate their costumes for tonight's party. 

He found out when she told her that the Raven and Beast Boy costumes would have to wait until next year. 

And he, actually, was relieved that he didn't have to paint his face green for God knows how many hours just to keep losing his date in the crowd and finding her kissing someone else. 

Ugh. 

Bitter. He's as bitter and jealous as someone who has to see the love of his life not give a damn about them or their feelings can be.

But that's okay, he has other plans for the night anyway. 

As soon as they all get through security (there's security at a house party, what the hell), they all scatter to do what they do best at parties. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa head for the drink table, Yeosang and Jongho head for a corner of the main room, San, Kyungmi, Gyuri and Superman go straight to the backyard and Mingi, his girlfriend and Yunho walk with him to the dancefloor. 

He dances with his friends, he pretends he's paying attention to their banter as his eyes scan the crowd looking for someone familiar behind a mask. 

He thinks he remembers her face very well, it stayed on his mind for a whole week but, even after dreaming about their conversation, Wooyoung is having a hard time in finding her. 

She didn't even tell him what she was going to dress up as or if she was even going to show up. 

Or did she? 

His memories are all blended together. He's going to make sure to be sober tonight, just for the sake of remembering every little detail if he does end up finding her. 

But the hours go by and he still can't find her. 

He's losing hope, he's beginning to believe she didn't even show up to the event which, hey, sucks but that means that he can finally get her out of her head. 

Sort of. 

There's a Scarlet Witch staring at him. But there's this alluring nature to his Scarlet Witch that can't be replicated, or so he thinks. 

He's about to convince himself he drunk dreamed the entire thing but then he sees him. 

The obnoxious motherfucker. Her classmate, mister can't-take-no-for-an-answer. 

In all honesty, the first thought that crosses his mind is to punch him in the face. He's still dressed up all frat bro-ish and his mask is a paper mask, completely diy-ed and with a dick drawn on the right side. 

And then he abandons the thought because, although an asshole, he can lead go finding his Scarlet Witch. 

Only issue is: Mister asshole is walking away with a girl on his arm and heading straight to a… room? bathroom? 

Stopping his movements, mid a Troye Sivan song and cutting Yunho off in whatever he's telling him, he let's out a loud “Fuck!” 

Yunho stops, Mingi and his girlfriend turn slowly to them with wide eyes and concerned expressions 

“What did you do to him?” Mingi asks Yunho and his best friend laughs nervously. 

“I didn't do anything! Did I do something?” he turns to Wooyoung “I didn't, did I?” 

“No, no. Sorry, I… I gotta go.” 

“Go where, Serena Van der Woodsen?” 

Wooyoung doesn't get the reference Mingi’s girlfriend makes but he laughs like he does “I'll be right back!” 

He's never been so determined before, moving through the crowd like his life depends on it and crashing into Batman and his Joker on the way to stop the guy who's potentially changing the course of his night. 

“Hey!” He yells behind him but the music is somehow louder on this side of the house and five people turn their heads, but not the guy pushing a Silent Hill nurse into the bathroom door to kiss her before opening it. 

Damn it. 

He runs faster and faster and he thinks he's going to miss his chance when the tip of his boot catches the door before it fully closes on his face. 

Breathing hard, his lips turn up in smirk when he catches the way the guy's face scrunches in confusion before opening the door again and looking at him.

Wooyoung takes it a step further and gets into the bathroom with them, closing the door behind him and lifting up his mask.

“What the fuck, Wooyoung?” 

“Hey, so sorry for interrupting your fifth makeout sesh for the night but I need to ask you something. Hi.” He says to the nurse and she smiles a little before turning to the Frat Bro and raising her eyebrow inquisitively. 

“And it couldn't wait?!” 

“No,” he says right away, smiling sardonically and getting straight to the point afterwards. “So, remember the Scarlet Witch that I ended up going to the closet with last week?” 

“Who?” 

Wooyoung is going to kill him.

“The girl who threw a drink on you last week for trying to kiss her even if she said no the first time you tried,” he reminds him, “Is she here?” 

“Y/N?” the name comes out in a whisper and Wooyoung sucks in a sharp breath. 

Y/N. 

It fits her. 

“Your classmate, yes.”

“Uhm, yeah, I think she's here,” he looks a little embarrassed at the recalling of the events of last week and Wooyoung wants to smile because of it, but he just looks at him with an insistent look so he can catch that he needs more than that to find her. To find you “Look, bro, I don't know where she is right now. I think she's dressed as a… Clown? A jester? Some weird, indie costume, uhm… She has a pointy black birthday hat? I don't know.” 

He's slurring his words but that's not enough for Wooyoung to feel bad for him. He, however, does not want to speak with him anymore. 

“Alright, thank you for that, I'll… Leave you to it,” he opens the door again and frat idiot scoffs, so he turns and looks directly at the Silent Hill Nurse “Please make him wear a condom.” And he can tell she's a little turned off with the whole conversation. 

So, as he closes the bathroom door and scans the crowd one more hopeful time, he counts that as a second victory. A little revenge on your name, even. 

He wanders the house, the hallways and rooms and little hideaway spots but he finds no sign of you in them so he heads for the backyard and looks up to the second floor. 

The first room is presumably empty, lights turned off and no activity in it the few seconds he observes it. 

The second room has an ambiance light turned on and he sees what looks like a Mad Hatter run across the window and then he hears something crashing, so he hopes that's not where you are. 

The third room has a balcony. It's dark, there's not one light lit in the entire room but there's neon lights in the backyard and streetlights and the moon casting perfectly on it, so he's able to see it perfectly from where he stands. 

And there, draped in some sort of vintage looking clown costume, wearing striped tights and a black and white pointy hat, mask in your hand and your forearms supporting your weight, you stare past him. 

You look sad, but it could also be the illusion the makeup you put on gives. 

He doesn't know you enough to know what your sad expression looks like and it bothers him a little. 

You also don't notice him at all, which is odd, because you're staring directly over his shoulder. You only blink fast and focus on his face once someone calls out: 

“Woo!” That's Gyuri's voice. Raising your head, you wave to him and smile a little. He smiles back. 

He has to literally force himself to peel his eyes from you and look behind him, at his best friend “Are you okay? Come hang out with us!” 

She looks so happy. A little drunk, but happy. San is also right beside her and he shoots him a knowing smirk that he ignores because he has to leave and speak to you. 

“I'm a little busy, Yuri. I'll be down in just a sec,” that's a lie but she nods happily and so he turns to you, your smile a little bigger now “Don't move.” He warns cheekily in a whisper and you seem to get it, because you smile wide, raise your arms defensively and open your, once again, gloved hands in defeat. 

He practically sprints to the second floor after that. 

You hope Wooyoung didn't notice. 

Staring daggers at the girl he told you last time is his best friend? Yeah, that could turn into a fight really fast if he reproaches it. 

You don't remember her name but you do remember her kissing the guy you've liked since forever. She's been doing that all night tonight, too. 

It pisses you off for all the wrong reasons. Sure, she's not exactly at fault, but the human mind is horrid when it comes to mental self flagellation and you, unfortunately, are an expert at that. 

All kinds of things went through your head. The main one, a question: Why do you feel so possessive over something that clearly isn't yours? 

His heart. 

His heart it's not yours, it never was, it never will be.

It's time you come to the realization that that's okay even if it hurts you. The obsession you have over it, over what happened with the two of you it's starting to get pathetic and it makes you feel lonelier than usual.

You really hope Wooyoung didn't notice. 

As you walk to the door and unlock the room you claimed for the night (because you want to leave, but the cover was expensive and there's no way you're letting it go to waste) you let yourself detach from the emotions you've been feeling all night. 

Wooyoung doesn't need to know what's going on in your head. You have a good memory of him, you even filtered a little last weekend and you want to keep that going. 

He doesn't need to know, he doesn't need to stay in your life for too long either.

It makes you giggle when he opens the door and scans the moonlit room of this sorority house like he doesn't really believe you were there in the first place. He smiles wide when his eyes land on you, back against the wall closest to the door. 

“Hey.” You say, biting down a smile.

His chest is heaving, like he ran all the way up here and it does nothing but send nervous tingles down your spine.

He smiles beautifully, entering the room and closing the door behind him “Hi.” 

Peeling your back from the wall, you start walking around the room because that keeps your body busy and unable to embarrass you. 

“Thought I missed you completely tonight, Y/N.” 

Frowning, you give him a glance over your shoulder “You know my name.” You say, rather than ask. 

“You didn't want me to?” 

Shaking your head, there's a tiny smile that curves your lips when you turn to him. He's walking around as well, slowly, carefully, like you're about to disappear if he moves too fast. 

“I don't really enjoy mysteries that much.” 

He smiles as well “You didn't tell me your name last time.” 

“You didn't ask me,” shrugging, you take a few steps his way and scan his costume without any discretion “You see?” 

“Hm?” 

“How good you look as Howl?” tilting your head slightly, you don't miss the way his cheeks darken slightly and that makes the remains of your shyness disappear from your body. You tell yourself that you, in this room, there must be no space for it. You point at his cape “Was it hard to get this?” 

“Overnight shipping,” he whispers, taking a step in your direction “You look very cute.” 

“You think?” 

“Yeah, I really like the, uhm…” he gestures to your costume “Vintage vibe.” 

You don't have to be a genius to notice he doesn't really know what you are. “I'm a pierrot clown.” 

He scoffs “I knew that.” 

“Sure you did, buddy.” 

There's a pause and then you both laugh but it dies down quickly and there's this tension between you both you don't really know why it's there.

You two didn't exactly connect that much last time. At least, you don't think you did. He was kind of drunk and you weren't really thinking straight either. 

“Y/N…” Your name sounds good out of his lips. 

“Yes?” 

“Why did you disappear last time?” 

That makes you laugh again. You didn't exactly plan on it, you were going to wait for him outside the closet but then you saw them kissing goodbye and your heart couldn't really stand it, so you bolted. 

You walk towards one of the two beds, sitting down on it carefully, to not disturb it too much. He follows you with his eyes, his head turning slightly in order to do so.

“You mean when I left the party? I didn't disappear on you,” that's not really a lie, you convince yourself. You kind of bid your goodbye to him that night “Didn’t think you wanted me to stay, either. Did they give you too much shit?” 

“For what?” 

“I clearly didn't kiss you that night. I think it was obvious, so… Your frat bros didn't give you shit for it?” 

Closing his eyes, the smile he gives you in return for the inside joke you two have going on makes your heart flutter “Stop insisting on that, will you?” 

“You can't really fight the truth, Wooyoung.” 

“Hm,” he walks over to you again, sitting on the bed next with his thigh touching yours. Innecesarlly so, because there's plenty of space, but you enjoy the warmth it spreads around your body so you don't say anything “You did tell me you didn't like liars.” 

“Oh, you remember that?” 

“I remember everything,” he nods, “I wasn't that drunk.” 

You give him a look “Weren't you?” 

He laughs again and you follow, pushing him slightly with your shoulder like you did back in the closet as well.

You don't really know what to say anymore, so you clear your throat slightly. 

“Are you enjoying the party?” 

“Are you?”  

“What do you mean?” 

“You seemed kind of sad when I saw you, there,” he points at the balcony and that makes you sigh. He noticed, kind of. That's disappointing and impressive at the same time. “I thought it was the makeup but it doesn't really seem like it.” 

“I’m not sad,” you admit, “I'm hurt.” 

“Isn't that the same thing?” 

“Not really, no,” shaking your head, you stare out of the big panel windows into the night sky. He doesn't need to know entirely, but you can tell him something about it “Remember the guy I told you about last time?” 

“The guy you went to the party for?” 

You nod “Well, he's here tonight too. With a date this time.” 

“Oh,” when you turn, catch him licking his lips before continuing and your eyes are fixed on the motion for a second too long “And that hurts you, duh, obviously.” 

You think it's adorable he's also a little nervous but you only smile and don't give him shit for it like you would do to anyone else “When you're obsessed with the idea of someone specifically seeing you a certain way, yes, it hurts,” you shrug “I'll get over it though.” 

“I feel that,” he says and you can imagine. You sensed it in his feelings last time, you can't actually believe the coincidence and irony of it all “Did you and this guy…?” 

“We went to highschool together. He was the only person who I thought saw me for who I was, whoever that is,” there's a bitterness in the laugh you let out you don't enjoy “We kissed a few times, he told me pretty things and I feel. Totally forgot about me when he had a summer glow up before we started our first semester, though.”

“Well, he's an asshole.” 

“He's not, not really,” and you desperately need to change the topic to him, so you bump your shoulder against him one more time “Did you come with your Sophie?” you ask, pretending to not know about Wonder Woman and the fact that she's here with somebody else. 

He catches who you're talking about, though and shakes his head, giving you. tight smile. 

“No, no, uhm… She has a date.” 

You hum “Are you hurt too?” 

“I'm bitter,” he whispers back, right away “Don't know if that's the same as being hurt, but I'm bitter.”

Silence falls comfortably around the understanding in between you both. You stare at each other, lips slowly curving upwards until you end up laughing yet again at the absurdity of the situations you're both in. 

“Guess we're just… A pair of losers tonight, huh?” 

“And what a pair we make.” 

You agree. There's this electricity running through you, you even dare to say it's running through him too and it makes you slightly regret not kissing him last week. 

If you did, the desire to do so right now would be easier to come to terms with. 

Thankfully, the same thing seems to be going through his mind “I know I was drunk, but I wanted to kiss you so bad.” 

“Are you drunk now?” You ask back in a whisper. He shakes his head. 

“Don't want to ruin your pretty makeup. Besides, you said last time—” 

You lean into his space a bit. 

“That was then,” you interrupt with a tiny smile “And now is now.” 

“That's how time usually works, yes,” he laughs and you join, rolling your eyes at the bad joke. You can see the second he makes the decision, his hand hesitantly finding your cheek and, when you don't recoil at the possible contact, he leaves it there “But are you sure it's okay?” 

You know why he's asking. He doesn't want to take advantage of a vulnerable moment, neither do you.

But you want to kiss him. 

“It’s matte,” you say instead and you hope he understands the real meaning behind your answer “The lipstick, it's matte. And the base It's set with really good powder, too, because I thought…” 

You thought that somebody else was going to kiss you tonight. 

He gets it. He understands why you did it and he scoffs with mild annoyance at it, which makes you smile. 

“Y/N,” he closes the distance between you even more and your breath hitches with anticipation before he whispers: “I'm going to kiss you so good, you'll forget about his lips forever.” 

That's the best thing someone has ever said to you, ever. You shudder at the thought and just stare, eyes dropping when he leans in further and his nose bumps into yours. 

“Do you want that?” 

Sleeping with Wooyoung won’t fix your problems. It sure won’t, not yours, not his but it doesn’t need to. You don’t know what the remedy for a wounded heart is but a distraction from the hurt can’t be all that bad. 

It's still a little bit pathetic how you whimper in response to his question. 

But it gains you the prize of tasting him for the first time, his minty flavor mixing with the remnants of whatever soda you had earlier and you sigh into the encounter. He’s not as delicate as you thought he would be. 

Wooyoung kisses you hard, with want, with need, with something you recognize in yourself and give back: the need for a distraction, for a feeling other than that hurt and bitterness you two mentioned not even three minutes ago. 

You don't know what to do with your hands, where to put them, but he fixes that. He grabs them, puts them on his shoulder, scoots a bit more into you and so your chest touches his and he sighs in contentment at that. 

You feel a little bit nervous, but that’s okay. 

It’s not like you’ve never been touched, like you’ve never done this sort of thing but it is the first time you want it. You want him. 

You’re not numb this time around, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when his other hand joins and keeps you in place, pulling back a second to take in some air before going back in for another toe curling kiss. 

Mind disconnecting from the outside world, you curse the layers of clothing (and there’s a lot) in between you when his hands travel down to your waist, against your body, caressing it and then grasping it in a way you’ve never felt before. 

It’s not rushed and it doesn’t really feel like something that you both want to get out of your system even though it is. You don’t really expect Wooyoung to ask you on a date after hooking up at a sorority party, after all. 

Oh. 

The party, that’s right. Did you lock the door? No, no. He walked in and didn't, you think. 

You can’t really think straight when he’s biting your bottom lip and then licking it as an apology for his misbehaving. It draws a breathy moan out of you and he drinks it, tongue meeting yours for the first time ever as you stand up from the bed, kiss never breaking, his 

body following yours. 

You’re wearing a lace ruffle white collar that goes with your costume. It’s cute, surprisingly not itchy at all and right now it seems to be getting in his way. His fingers look for the velcro clasp and then, when he loosens it enough, he janks it off. 

Somehow, you enjoy the theatrics and you giggle as his mouth abandons yours.

“Woo…” You manage to say when his lips start to make acquaintance with your neck, over your pulse. Craning your head to the side, he moves to the skin that unveils because of it and it’s hard to think of anything but the way you start to tremble under his touch. 

Grounding yourself by sinking your fingers in his hair, you attempt to speak again but he keeps distracting you. 

“Fuck, say that again.” 

Humming, you return “Woo,” you say again, “the door…”  

He moves to the other side of your neck “What about it?” 

“It’s— Oh,” teeth sink into your skin and you moan out loud, you can practically feel his smirk on your skin after that and your face burns as a consequence. “W-we need to lock it.” 

“Afraid someone will walk in on us?” he finally pulls away enough for you to see his face. His lips are swollen and there’s a flush across his cheeks that sits beautifully there when he smiles, forehead resting against yours a second later “You don’t like that thought?” 

There’s a part of you that doesn’t think it’s proper. It’s bad enough you’re hooking up with a somewhat stranger in a room that isn’t yours, but people finding out? That should terrify you. 

But it doesn’t. He seems to read it on your delayed response and the way your eyes widen with need when he pulls away again to watch your reaction to what he said. 

“You do, don’t you?” and then you’re moving, backwards, backwards, backwards until your back hits the door and there’s this passion glistening in his eye that excites you and sends spikes down your spine and into your core “You want people to know I’m kissing you dumb, hm? You want them to see what I’m doing to you?” 

He pauses and you feel like it’s on purpose, you feel like he takes in you heaving chest and the way your eyes follow the veins down his arms when he presses his hand behind you, pushing into your space a bit more and you should feel overwhelmed like you normally do with everyone else, but you don’t. 

You want him to get even closer.

“You want them to see what you do to me?” 

His whisper shakes you, awakens something in you that you desperately want to explore. It makes you feel shy and brave at the same time and the contradiction makes you bite down a smile. 

There’s no need for you to see what you’re doing to him, you can feel it when the hand that wanders to his waist pulls him closer, forward, until his hips meet yours and his leg finds a home between yours. Grunting, he raises a brow and gives you a knowing grin, but you enjoy surprising people. 

Your black gloves contrast against his skin and the white of his shirt when you caress the arm planted next to you and he follows the motion, letting out a breath “What if I don’t?” you ask, low, like it’s a secret you don’t want anyone else to find out even if you’re alone in this room “What if I want to keep you all to myself?” Watching his expression carefully, you try to measure if you’re crossing the invisible hookup line with your words but he closes his eyes and there’s no way for you to tell, so you correct your possible mistake in a whisper “For the night. You don’t want me to be only yours tonight?” 

Something twitches against your leg and the brief tension melts from your shoulder. Damn, you’re not that mouthy during these sort of scenarios so you almost, almost fucked up, huh? 

It doesn’t really matter when his free hand brushes his knuckles against your stomach, over your clothes and the ridiculously big buttons of your costume and then leaves you to twist the lock on the door “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, by the way.” 

“I want you.” The words get out before you think it through and you don’t mind it. You value honesty, you love when your body acts before your mind has the time to make you feel ashamed of your own feelings and wants. 

It pays off because his expression morphs in pure want and his tone is a whimper when he begs you, forehead meeting yours again “Again.” 

“I want you, Woo…” You whisper against his lips and then his mouth is on yours hungrier than ever before. The wood hurts against your back but Wooyoung’s hands pull you against him to move you away from it. 

This time, your hands know exactly what to do, because you know exactly what you want. They tug at his cape, trying to find the clasp of it with desperate trembles because your heart is beating faster and faster and you’re impatient, body too impertinent and rebelling against your wishes of taking this slow and savoring every little touch.

Cape on the floor, you feel his hand trying to figure out your costume. It makes you laugh and you’re glad he returns it, looking down at it and frowning at all the fabric he finds. With your hands against his chest, you push him into the mattress and he lands gracefully on it, supporting himself with his arms “I’ll do it.”

“Baby, this is a great costume and you look so fucking cute on it but why is there so much layering?” 

The nickname is new and he doesn’t seem to catch that it slipped out of his mouth so you don’t comment on it but it sure deepens the color on your cheeks and you laugh shyly, tilting your head to side in a playful manner. 

“I told you I like dressing up.” 

“And it shows! Mine’s a little simple,” without the cape, he just looks like a dude with a loose white shirt and black trousers. A handsome dude, but just a dude nevertheless “But I wanted you to find me, so…” 

“What was the first option?” 

“Beast Boy.” 

There’s something that crosses his expression that goes away the second he sees you slowly working the buttons and the skin underneath reveal after each one. His eyes fix on it and you’re sure you look ridiculous in the makeup and the get up and all but he’s looking at you with so much need you feel sexy wearing it. 

The shirt comes off. You’re wearing a cropped top and a bra underneath and you hook your thumbs under it to make him believe you’re taking it off, but you don’t. 

“You’re killing me.” He groans out and you laugh at him, making a show of bringing your hands down your torso and into your hips. You move to take off the striped bloomers that are matching with the tights you plan on taking off next. 

Your underwear doesn’t exactly match but you weren’t really planning on any of this with anyone. You weren’t planning on going this far but you don’t really care when it’s all, eventually, it’s just going to be off, so it doesn’t really matter. 

“Want to take these off yourself or you’re going to make me do all the work?” 

Smiling, he sits straight on the bed, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his mouth he nips the satin fabric of your glove, it loosening around your index when he pulls. He must see the way it affects you immediately, the way you breath catches, because the corner of his lips lifts up before he does the same to the thumb, the middle finger, the ring and the pinky and then he pulls the glove completely off. 

You feel like you short circuit for a second, even more so when he keeps the hand close to him and starts kissing the pad of your fingers so softly it doesn’t match the hunger in his eyes at all. 

And you’re killing him? 

It happens in a flash but the other glove is off and then your tights, your top and his shirt are off and on the floor and you’re sitting on his lap, tongue parting his lips and mouth bruising against his and you feel like you’re in a small pocket in time no one can really disturb. No one can burst this bubble, this cloud you land on when he turns you around and the expensive material of the sheets touches your bare back. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” 

When did he take off your bra? It doesn’t matter, his lips are making their way down your throat and exploring your chest, gaining puffs of air and moans from you when he flicks your nipples with his tongue, expert and careful, measuring your reaction and doing it again when your back arches off the bed instead of verbally asking for more. 

He kisses down, down until his teeth are catching your underwear. Looking up to you, he searches for an answer in your eyes and you both come to an unspoken agreement. Even if you’re both taking your time in exploring each other, there’s no actual time for him to eat you out, for you to get on your knees and taste him as well. 

You immediately wonder if there’s going to be another opportunity to do all of that. Either way, there’s not enough time to wonder. You help him get out of his trousers, his boxer briefs and you stare at him with an eyebrow up and an open and watering mouth. 

He laughs at your reaction, like he was expecting it. 

He stops laughing when you reach for him. Breathing hard when your thumb teases his tip, gathering precum, he shakes his head and you immediately stop “Baby, we… Not tonight.” 

Then when? You want to ask. 

You just nod before bringing the thumb to your mouth, tasting him and humming in content. Wooyoung leans in and puts his tongue on yours a second later.

He smiles, teeth sinking on your bottom lip before diving in for another kiss “Dirty girl.” He teases you and you shrug. 

“You look so good,” You say against him, pecking his lips, “Couldn’t help myself,” fingers grasping the hairs at the nape of his neck, like you did the night you met, you stop him from kissing you again just to whisper “You taste so good too.”   

His eyes almost roll at that, hips stuttering against you and almost brushing where they need to. “Fuck, don’t say shit like that to me, Y/N.” 

“Sorry.” You say but it’s clear in your smile that you’re not sorry at all and maybe you shouldn’t have because when it comes to taking your last piece of clothing off, he takes his time. 

Fingernails raise goosebumps as they softly go through your skin and he lets out a ragged breath “So fucking beautiful.” 

You feel beautiful. That’s good, because earlier tonight, before you catched him staring up at you on the balcony, you felt undesirable. You felt little, small, incomparable in the worst way possible because… Why not you? 

His words reassure you. Even if you know that’s something you need to do yourself (built enough confidence to not let the choices of a man who doesn’t give a damn about you define your self worth), it helps you tend that wound that reopened. 

He touches you and you feel worth it again. You believe it when your panties fall to the ground and your legs part for him and he looks at you in delight, thumb finding your clit and circling it right away “So fucking wet, fuck.” 

Your hips go up when he finds the right pacing, the right pressure to it and you really shouldn't moan this loud but you don’t care when he lets out a moan of his own at the way your face scrunches in pleasure “I want you.” You let out, breathy and pliant under his touch. 

“You got me,” he’s sweating but you don’t really care, you love the way his pretty nose touches yours when he leans in, index searching and then entering you. “Fuck, I could slip right in, hm? Is that what you want?” 

A moan slips out when he finds your sweet spot and strokes it carefully, he takes it as a reply and, honestly, it is all you can let out at the moment. You squeeze the second finger as it enters you, so it gives away how much you like the thought of that. 

“You do,” he says, teasingly and smiles against your lips as he pecks it “Dirty girl,” He repeats and you shake your head again, hips bucking up when the heel of his hand press against your clit and it sends a new wave of heat across your entire body “Impatient girl. I wish you were in my room now, fuck.” 

You wish that too.

“Woo…” 

“I had to—” 

“I know but there’s people—” Passing the door, you can sense it. In this midst of anything, you can sense it. 

“Who cares about them—”

There’s a phone vibrating somewhere in the room and it’s definitely not yours. He ignores it, fingers picking up their pace. 

“I need you,” you whisper, propping yourself up to kiss his mouth “Please, please fuck me.”

“I want you to come first.” He communicates his crude intention so cutely you might actually miss him when this is all over. 

“And I want to come with you.” 

That stops him and you can literally feel him get harder where he rests against your inner thigh.

“Condom?” You ask in a whisper. 

“Condom, right, fuck—” Both moving to reach his pants on the floor, you giggle and his lips find your cheek for a second as your torsos hang from the bed and you can safely say you never had more fun during sex before this. 

It’s lighthearted even if you’re both practically strangers and then it grows hot, sexy, passionate again when he finds the condom, breaks the package open and then rolls it on with practiced moves. He kisses you, laying back down against the pillows and aligning himself with your entrance. 

“Wait, let me just…” 

“What?” 

You turn around, laying flat on your chest and arching your back just a little so that you can open up your legs for him to enter. You look at him over your shoulder and his surprised expression makes you giggle “You never tried this one?” you ask and at his silence, you nod “Look how easy it is for me to—” Reaching down your stomach and reaching your clit with your fingers for him to see, you circle it a few times and close your eyes at the sensation. 

He kisses the small of your back “Holy fuck, Y//N.” 

“I told you that I’m coming with you, I’m helping.” 

He leans into you, his tip pressing against your clit deliciously “You’re so fucking hot, I almost came.” 

“That’s the point, Woo.” You say through pants, his hands kneading your ass and spreading you open for him to see. It’s a little nasty and you wonder what you both could do with a little more time and less people waiting for you outside. For him, at least. 

When he enters you, the moan that leaves you echoes his and you probably needed just a little bit more prep for the size of him but since you’re so turned on it barely matters when he’s completely seated inside of you and this position just makes it feel ten times better “You feel so good, baby, fuck.” 

“Yeah?” His chest is touching your back now and his lips are leaving open mouth kisses on your shoulder. He moves his hips experimentally and you moan into the sheets, sweat running down your neck and your chest into them but you don’t have time to feel bad for the owner of the bed at all “Was that okay?”

“You can go harder.” 

“Yeah? Fuck.” 

He complies right away and it feels so good you let yourself close your eyes and fully enjoy it, consequences be damned. 

People outside the room hearing you moan? Who cares when your fingers the weight of Wooyoung against you feels so right? 

When his thrusts help you grind your clit on your fingers just right, especially when he increases the speed of them and the wave of pleasure that hits you squeezes him around you so good his moan bounces off the walls and outside of the balcony where someone downstairs giggles and whistles. 

“Oh, God,” he says, a little ashamed but never slowing down and you turn your head, searching for his lips “We should’ve closed that door too.” 

You decide to tease him to wipe that emotion from him and just focus on you “Thought you wanted to give people a show.” 

Opening your eyes, you are able to watch when his eyes harden slightly at the thought, pace faltering as he lets out a tiny whimper. 

“And I thought you wanted me for yourself tonight,” he resumes his relentless pace, thrusting in and out of you with ease now and your cheek meets the sheets again so the bed can muffle your sounds “Maybe next time.” 

Next time. 

You don't really have time to dwell on what that means because you’re so worked up it won’t take much for you to come. You let Wooyoung know and he nods, his forehead against your shoulder again “Kiss me.” He whispers and you crane your neck to do so, to swallow his moans down and keep them with you forever. 

You swallow all of them down when his hips stutter and he comes and you know he keeps yours when you let yourself come right alone with him. He fucks you through both of your orgasms and slows down gradually until he grows sensitive and hisses at any tiny movement and your arms go kind of numb underneath you. 

There’s a sense of urgency your mind picks up immediately after but you ignore it. You have nowhere to go and they charged you twenty dollars to get into this stupid party so they can wait for you two to return to it. 

But there’s a phone vibrating somewhere. And even if you both hear it, Wooyoung turns you around and leans in to give you a kiss so sweet you almost want to keep it with you as well. 

When he pulls away, you wipe the sweat on his forehead with your hands and brush the hair out his face so delicately he closes his eyes and seems to enjoy your touch. 

Now what the hell should you say at a moment like this? Where he doesn’t seem in any rush to leave you and you don’t really want him to leave either. 

Do you tell him he did good? Do you tell him you enjoyed it, that he made you feel safe? That’s the first time in ages you enjoy a quick fuck this much? 

That—

“Please give me your number.” 

Oh, he’s actually adorable. He takes your stunned expression and silence the wrong way, though, and he sits on his knees, pulling out of you and working on getting his condom off while he speaks. 

“I can give you at least ten reasons you should give me your number. Number one, I enjoyed this a lot and I can do better if you give me time, number two—”

“Woo, you literally just fucked me with clown makeup on. I think we’re past you giving me reasons to sleep with you,” you sit up as well, taking his face in your hands again and leaning in to kiss his cheek soundly “Give me your phone.” 

He gets off the bed and looks around the room for the trash can. It’s a tiny one, sitting on top of a desk and you really, really start to feel bad for the girls who are going to have to sleep off their drunken night in this room. You’re surprised that no one knocked on the door but, on party eastern time, it’s still kind of early. 

Two thirty am reads the clock on Wooyoung’s phone when he hands it to you, unblocked. There’s messages flowing in and you try your best to not read them as you enter your number and name into his contacts but you do notice they’re from a group chat. 

You wonder if his friend group is big, if he’s close to all of them, what kind of friend he is. You’re impatient, you want to get to know him all of the sudden and you know it’s dangerous for expectations to grow after a hookup but, as you hand him his phone back, you can’t help but let out a “Woo, do you just want to fuck me or do you want to be my friend too? Something more?” 

He’s reading the messages on the group chat with a frown when your questions register in his brain and he looks up, a curious expression and a tiny smile “You’re very direct, aren’t you?” 

“I hate wondering and mysteries,” you shrug, “I don’t want to expect the wrong thing.”

“Fair,” he nods. “I’m more of a… Just wait and see what happens kind of guy, but if you want an honest answer I just don’t really know. I want to see you again, though.” 

“I want to see you again, too,” You murmur back and he smiles, leaning in a fraction to try and kiss you again but then there’s a thud against the door and a soft ouch coming from behind it that interrupts you “We should really get out of here.” 

It takes a millisecond for him to misinterpret what you meant, smirk growing on his lips when you shake your head disapprovingly and blushing while you pick your panties from the ground and get up to slip them on. 

“Not what I meant!” 

“I mean,” he starts to dress himself as well, “I wouldn’t mind.” 

“No,” you say but you don’t sound so sure of it yourself and it makes him smile even wider, so you roll your eyes. “Where are my…”

“Here.” He hands you the tights and you thank him, almost falling while trying to put them on fast the next second. He laughs at you “Just sit down, babe.” 

“Don’t laugh!” 

“I’m literally not!” 

You tease each other as you get in costume again. This time the fabric bothers you a little but only because you’re sticky and sweaty even if it’s the last day of october. 

Fully clothed, you walk to the door and you suddenly feel very shy and nervous at what can await you behind it. Wooyoung seems to see it on your face, so he steps in your space and kisses your lips sweetly, holding your waist respectfully like he didn’t just make you come less than ten minutes ago. 

“I’m so glad I met you,” he whispers against you and you melt even if you don’t want to. He doesn’t specify why and you don’t ask, but he does smile when you peck his lips one last time before stepping away “Do you want to step out together or do you want to go first, should I go first? We can meet downstairs,” he clarifies before you can think the worst and you giggle “We can leave together too, if you want.” 

You know he means the party. 

But his phone vibrates again, insistently shaking in his pocket and you rest your head against the door softly “I feel like you have people that need you right now.” 

He takes the phone out of his pocket. The screen reads “yuri”, with a series of heart emojis and a middle finger emoji at the end and his expressions turn worrisome immediately. 

“Shit, no, you’re right, um…” 

Stepping away from the door, you grab the knob and open it for him “Do your thing, Woo.” 

You think you know exactly who's calling him. 

Like you already knew, sleeping with Wooyoung didn't fix yours problems at all: 

It hurts that she's been chosen over you again, but you keep the soft smile on your lips either way. 

“I'll text you. I'll call you, I—” he leans into you again, stealing a hard, parting kiss that you probably are going to think about until he keeps his promise “Hey, everything alright?” You faintly hear when he picks up the call. 

When he leaves the room and closes the door behind him, you sag against the wood of it and let yourself meet the cold floor to try and plan out how you're getting out of there and how long it would take you to walk to your dorm room at this time. 

But then your phone digs in your hand, screen lighting up the dark room and your face. 

+82-8-918-2910: my friend got sick bc she drank too much. wish i could take you to your dorm. text me when you get there, yeah? x 

It makes you smile. Despite it all, it makes you smile really hard. 

+82-8-918-2910: it's wooyoung btw ;)  +82-8-918-2910: send me pic of how you save meeeee  +82-8-918-2910: okay my friend is puking in the pool and her date it's fucking useless i have to go text me back pls!! xx 

When you catch yourself re-reading the texts on your home screen and grinning, this time like a complete fucking idiot, you know you'll have to start thinking of another recipe to mend yet another broken heart. 

That's fine. At least you're not thinking about Superman anymore. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated, don't be afraid to go to my inbox and leave your thoughts there, i love reading them!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

Batman Has Arrived - Matt Sturniolo

Pairings - fwb!Matt x fem!Reader Summary - Two weeks into the break Matt proposed, he pops up on you at a Halloween party. Warnings - Strong language. Sexual suggestions. Fluff. A lil angst?? W/c - 2560 A/n - That tiktok Matt posted had me dreamingggg. It's now no nut November (idk if I'm participating) so I didn't want to turn this into a smut lol. Let me know what you guys think!! 🦇 Tags - @lvrsturniolo @thepubeburgler (if anyone else wants tagged just let me know!) My Masterlist Current series - City of Love (Matt) Current works - part two to You Like me? (Matt) Latest work - Pierced (Chris)

“Code red!” your best friend sounds from behind you, making you whirl around to face her. “He’s here and he’s so pissed,” she tells you before taking a sip of her drink. Your heart drops to your stomach, the drunken haze you’re in isn’t making it better, “you told me he wouldn’t be here!”

“I didn’t think he would be!” she throws her hands up defensively. It had only been two weeks since Matt proposed a ‘break’ between you two. His reason being - ‘he wasn’t in the right mental state for a girlfriend.’ You thought it was bullshit, and it was. Matt had a bad habit of not being straightforward with you. Truth be told, even though he was always the one to suggest a break, he was always the one to come running back. His constant need to go back and forth left you feeling mentally and emotionally exhausted. This wasn't the first time he brought up the idea, in the beginning you'd constantly check in on. After the third or fourth time of him doing the same stupid shit, you decided ignoring him was best.

Already knowing how the night will end, you pour yourself another shot. Before you can bring it up to your lips, “Batman has arrived,” you hear your best friend scoff. She throws a shot back with you as Matt approaches the kitchen island. “Drinking away your problems, huh?” the familiar voice makes you hold your breath out of nervousness.

You roll your eyes almost immediately, “I didn’t have any problem until I noticed you were here.” You were still holding a grudge. It had been six months since you and Matt first started hooking up. He was probably the most confusing man you had ever been with. One minute he’s talking about a future with you, and the next he’s telling you he needs a break, that he's not ready for a relationship. You’d feel a lot better if he actually communicated, telling you what’s truly wrong, but he did the exact opposite. He never told you shit, just springs unexpected breaks on you like your feelings don’t matter.

Even worse, Matt knew you were head over heels for him. Everyone knew. The way you stare at him when he was in close proximity resembled a schoolgirl swooning over her first crush, that’s what it felt like anyway.

“Don’t be like that, Y/n/n,” he says after leaning down to your ear. The loud music blaring through the house made it hard to hear anything. His hands fall to your waist, and he leans you back against his chest, “I only came out tonight so I could see you.”

You tilt your head to get a good look at him. Black paint smears over his eyes making him look more mysterious than he already did. You gape at him, “Batman?”

Matt’s fingers make gentle circles on your waistline, the fabric of your costume bunching up in the process. You were dressed in all black, as a fallen angel. Before the break, you and Matt planned on going as Catwoman and Batman, inspired by Robert Pattinson and Zoe Kravitz. It was one of your favorite superhero movies, along with his. Apparently, Matt wasn’t creative enough to come up with another costume idea. Seeing him in the costume you coordinated for him made your stomach twirl. Little did you know - he was praying you'd come dressed as his Catwoman.

“Fallen angel?” he asks before he spins you around to face him. You nod, a bit taken back with how touchy he was being. Matt wasn’t the pda type of person, just like he wasn’t the going out type. You figured Halloween was a special occasion since it was his favorite day of the year. Matt keeps his grip firm, “you look really good.”

“Are you drunk?” you ask him, leaning in so he can hear you better. Matt immediately shakes his head, “I can’t miss you?”

Sucking your teeth and shaking your head at him, “no.” You let your eyebrows knit together, looking at everything except Matt. Truth be told, every time he suggested a break it left you heartbroken. In a way, you felt like you weren't good enough to be his girlfriend. That’s how the constant back-and-forth shit made you feel, like you weren’t good enough for him.

Your drunken state makes it harder for you to blink away the tears prickling at your eyes. Matt’s hands move from your waist to your arms, rubbing them gently like he’s trying to distract you. “Well, I do,” he tells you, searching your face for answers neither of you seem to have. The reasoning behind all the breaks wasn’t because of another girl or wanting freedom. It was simply because he felt like his mental health didn’t allow him to treat you the way you deserved to be treated, and he knew that.

Sucking a breath in and deciding to stay strong, “I’m not doing this tonight, Matt. I came here to get my mind off of you,” you spit out as you take a step back. You run your finger through your hair, hoping the night wouldn’t end how you expected it to - in Matt’s bed.

Before he can say anything else, your best friend, who had been eavesdropping the whole time, snatches you out of his grip. “Okay,” she stretches out, “that’s enough arguing for tonight.”

Matt’s face drops and he keeps a firm grip on your arm, “what? We weren’t arguing,” he defends himself. You look down at the tight grip on your arm, “c’mon y/n/n. Please don’t be like that,” empathy leaking through his words.

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can Chris appears out of nowhere. He whispers something in Matt's ear, making him realize he’s causing a scene. He keeps grip tight as he looks around the room, taking in the people who are staring at you two. Innocent bystanders probably thought he was some crazy overprotective boyfriend. That wasn’t the case though, and it made your heart hurt. Matt being possessive over you was pointless if he never had any plans to make you his.

Six months. Six months you had been fucking him and he still hasn’t asked you out. You were losing hope at this point. You had the ‘don’t go back to him’ talk with your best friend time after time but you never learned your lesson. Nights like this always ended with an angry Matt fucking you into his mattress as you spoke in tongues against his pillow, leaving drool stains on the process.

Chris wraps arm around his brother's shoulder, guiding him away from you, and waving an arm over his shoulder. It was his way of signaling you to get the fuck out of there. You quickly take notion, spinning around and hauling ass out of the kitchen, your bestie close behind you.

“That was fucking intense,” she tells you once you lead her to an empty bathroom, closing the door behind her. You groan, throwing your head back, “did you see how fucking good he looked?!”

“No, no,” she says in a panicky tone. “You’re not going home with him tonight!” She knows you too well. Looking in the mirror, you critic your Halloween makeup, making sure none of it got ruined yet. Your best friend makes her way to the toilet, quickly dropping her pants and squatting, “sorry I have to pee.” You shrugged at her, knowing you’d do the same if you really had to pee.

“I feel so bad though,” you tell her while applying more lip stick. “Bitch, he should feel bad for constantly playing with your emotions,” she scoffs.

“He does. You seen his face,” defending him against her harsh opinions wasn’t uncommon at this point. Y/bf/n was just as protective over you as Matt was. Her knowing every detail about the relationship you shared with him made her question his true intentions towards you. You were never the type to have a friends with benefits relationship, and Matt was pretty much forcing you into it. He hadn’t left you alone since the first night he had you, but he never talked about furthering things either.

“Just because his face says one thing, it doesn’t mean it’s accurate,” she tells you honestly. She had a point, but you knew Matt. You knew he wore his emotions on his face before he communicated them to the world. He held a lot back from a lot of people, you included.

You shake your head in disagreement, but before you can talk, she does, “I know you’re gonna leave with him. But at least tell him what you actually want before the night is over and if he doesn’t give it to you then you need to leave him alone. Matt’s not good for you, Y/n.”

After y/bf/n finishes lecturing you, you quickly exit the bathroom, making your way back to the living room. Only problem was, Matt was standing by the doorway with Chris and Nick, scoping his surroundings in hopes to find you. As soon as his eyes land on you, his feet move in your directions. Nick and Chris in tow close behind him, you’d think they were babysitting their drunk brother, but Matt was nowhere near drunk. He was fuming.

“Y/n,” he calls out as soon as he approaches you. You let your face do the talking, scrunching your nose at his comment. Matt never called you by your first name unless he was serious. “You’re coming home with me,” he states, not bothering to give you an option. He quickly redeems himself, “cause you’re drunk.”

“Right,” you huff, running a hand through your hair, “that’s why.” Matt's lips curve upward a bit like he’s trying to smile but he fights it off, keeping them pin straight. Nick lets out a laugh behind him, followed by Chris. Ear hustlers.

You really didn’t have the time or patience to have your Halloween night ruined. You were a girl who liked to have a good time, so Matt putting a halt on your night made you give in to what he wanted. Anything to avoid the conflict at all costs, you had a soft spot for him. You couldn’t tell if it was black paint he had smeared across his eyes, something told you had to go home with him. Then again, your conscious convinced itself every other night you needed him. Holding out for the past two weeks did neither of you the justice it should’ve. It only made the infatuation worse.

Not even twenty minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of Matt’s car. He sped through traffic occasionally glancing at you with the sour expression still stuck on his face like glue. Two weeks and you were already wasted at a Halloween party, giving any random guy the opportunity to make a play on you. It pissed him off to no end.

Matt knew every time he suggested a break, it broke your heart a little bit more. He couldn’t bring himself to publicly announce your relationship, he feared the attention would ruin it all. If you were soft for him then you’d be soft when the hate comment came along too, and he wasn’t willing to let that happen. As overprotective as he was, he knew he’d lash out at anyone who threw a negative comment your way. He had a soft spot for you, he just didn’t let it show. Deep down, you could sense it every time you were with him and that’s what reeled you in more each time.

“What’s with the looks?” you decide to finally break the silence, cutting the tension that floated in the air. It didn’t matter how mad he was, the Batman costume was doing wonders for you. Matt gives you the silent treatment, mentally scolding himself for practically kidnapping you. He knew it was toxic, and he knew he was the cause of it. The rest of the car ride is silent until he pulls up to his apartment.

“C’mon Matt,” you whine, “I really like the way your face is painted,” pulling the sleeve of his shirt. Not wanting to fight with him anymore, you caved like usual. Instead of letting his shitty mood get the best of you, you made light of it, doing anything you could to make the night end well.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” keeping his tone low and teasing, “you ghost me for weeks and now all the sudden want me, wonder why?” This wasn’t unfamiliar for you and Matt to be so hot and cold with each other. Whether you liked it or not, it happened too frequently. As soon as the door is open, you rush inside to kick off your shoes, stumbling in the process, “slow down!” Matt reaches a hand out, snaking it around your waist to steady you. A blush creeps up to your cheeks as you hold on to his bicep in an attempt to steady yourself even more, “I’m drunk.”

“I know, baby. I can tell,” he keeps his grasp tight on you, kicking his shoes off, and leading you to the bedroom. Needles and pins stick into your feet with every step you take, making you take a mental note to never wear those heels again. Matt pushes his bedroom door open revealing his messy room. He never made his room look nice unless he was expecting someone you. In a way, you found it comforting because you knew he didn’t fuck anyone during your breaks. Instead, he sulked, trying to find ways to make the situation better but it never worked. He never put in full effort, and he knew it. It killed him.

You take your spot on Matt’s bed, making yourself comfortable. “I’m gonna go wash up,” he tells you quietly.

“What nooo,” you stretch out, rising to your feet and stumbling in the process. “I told you I like it,” crossing your arms over your chest.

“Seriously?” He asks as he takes off his jacket, hanging it on the back of the door. “I thought you were kidding,” he chuckles. Even though he was still upset over the whole situation, he couldn’t help but think your drunken haze was the cutest thing. He loved how goofy and playful you were, like all the shyness disappears.

You reach out to him, taking the hem of his sleeve between your fingers, “I really wanted to be your Catwoman tonight, y’know,” giving him those seductive doe eyes you mastered years ago. That look made him crack every time.

“The least you can do is be my Batman,” filling in the gap between the two of you. You press your body against his and wrap your arms around his neck, “you missed me?”

Matt hangs his head, making sure he’s ear level to you, “I did,” growling lowly. He places a sloppy kiss on your earlobe and sending shivers down your spine. Matt's hands wrap around the back of your thighs, and he pulls you closer to him. It never failed, as soon as he got you in his possession, there was no keeping his hands off of you. The break ended right then and there.

[jji-lee]

maybe it was jeno’s ‘good luck’ or the 3 shots of tequila that he had just downed with haechan, but mark was feeling very optimistic about finding you. he wandered around the frat house, stopping to greet some sexy wonder womans, just in case meeting you doesn’t go as planned, until he was led out onto the house’s patio.

it was mainly men back there, the march winds much too cold for any girl’s skimpy costume. just as he was about to leave he spotted an attractive looking girl with cat ears, well, mark couldn’t see her face per se… but her ass looked attractive. he prayed that this kitty was his mystery girl, because he might just leave this party with her and not you, not like you really knew who he was anyways.

as he approached you, he noticed the empty drink in your hand, eyes roaming the patio, hopefully looking for him.

“hey… kento girl?”

he saw your eyes widen slightly, pink cheeks peeking out from under your mask. score.

“uh yeah, you’re long lee? god that name sounds stupid when you say it out loud.”

you both chuckled at the mention of his dirty username. since when did his mask start feeling so hot? his hands reached towards your mask-

“nuh uh, we said we’d keep our masks on remember?”

mark would have to fuck you without seeing your face first, and to be honest, with a body like yours he didn’t really mind. he thought of his wise friend haechan’s words worst case scenario, just put her in doggy style and problem solved.

“sooo this is weird right, meeting officially but not knowing who we are.”

his mask muffled his speech, blaring music making it even harder to hear him, you reached towards his neck softly pulling his face down to meet yours, smiling before turning your ear towards him.

“sorry i can’t really hear you that well, what did you say?”

ok yes, you had heard his question, but what’s the harm in a little flirting? and clearly it was working as he stuttered his response out.

“um i was saying uh that it’s weird right you know like meeting but still not knowing who we are.”

mark was losing his mind. first of all he’s never met a girl to make the first move on him, you’re not slick, and second why did that noob level flirting actually do something to him. your cheeky smile was proof that you were proud at the fact you managed to fluster him,

“hmm i guess it is, but at least you know what half of my face looks like now, it’s only fair if you let me see half of yours.”

mark wasn’t even thinking before he pulled up his mask to reveal his lips and the bottom of his nose, feeling strangely naked in front of you (this was the most clothed he’d ever been near a girl he’s speaking to) he prayed you didn’t recognize him, what if you were a mark lee fanatic that knew him by his birthmark and you could-

“nice mustache.”

you snorted reaching up to touch his facial hair. he had forgotten to shave so caught up in the idea of meeting you tonight he had forgotten to shave. did he think that he’d keep the mask on all night? that he’d be balls deep in you, bare ass naked with a spiderman mask on? mark refuses to let a girl see him with facial hair. call it a silly superstition, but since that night drunk jisung told him that his chinese roommate had mentioned something about mustaches being bad sexual luck, mark has stayed clean shaven.

“sorry was that a bad joke, it actually does look good on you, well, looks good on half of your face.”

you smiled up at him, and suddenly he felt like maybe his luck wouldn’t be so bad tonight.

“i don’t usually go out much so shaving isn’t necessary, most girls hate it.”

lies. but he thinks so far the loser totally not frat boy thing is kinda working for him.

“i thought you didn’t talk to girls huh, are you a secret player my sweet romeo?”

this loser gets no girls thing was totally working for him. how did you get lucky enough to get matched with a nice guy who isn’t just interested in sex and (from seeing half his face) doesn’t seem to be completely unattractive? flirting didn’t come so easy for you, but those jello shots you had taken with chenle at the entrance seemed to finally be soaking into your blood stream. he chuckled nervously,

“yeah and what if i am?”

“then you’d have to go talk to another sexy cat woman tonight, sorry.”

you both knew you weren’t going anywhere as tension started to build. the cool air seemed to fade away as heat grew between the two of you. playful banter was always your favorite type of foreplay and spiderman’s nervous reactions to your flirting was only making you more excited.

“but if you reallyyy want me to stay i may need some convincing, maybe a little hmmm”

you pointed at your lips, slightly puckering them as you pretended to think.

“oh yeah?”

you didn’t even have to look up to hear the smirk in his tone. you smiled wide,

“only if that’s okay with you of course, i know you’re not too good with girls.”

his hands came out to grab your waist and slightly tug you towards him, your chest meeting his. a small gasp escaped you making him smile. he brought his face down to yours, breath fanning against your lips.

“you sure about this my juliet?”

you nodded slowly causing your lips to brush, and that seemed to be what finally broke the tension. his lips pressed against yours a soft groan coming from him. your arms came up to wrap around his neck pulling him impossibly closer. you slightly parted your lips allowing him access to your mouth, which of course he happily accepted, his tongue came out quickly to interlock with yours both of your mouths moving is sync. his sneaky hands came down to grab your ass slowly massaging the muscle. damn when was the last time you got laid? definitely not long enough to make you take this mystery man home with you, that’s for sure. you pulled away from him making sure to unstick his hands from your latex covered ass, if he had kept his hands there any longer you have no idea what you would’ve done.

“you’re a pretty good kisser mr. romeo.”

“not so bad yourself my juliet”

his hands reached out again to grab your waist again,

“we can take this somewhere more private if you want.”

oh if only he knew how much you wanted to.

“mmm i don’t think so, not tonight at least, we just met, and i have no idea who you are-“

he went to pull the rest of his mask off but you grabbed his hands stopping him.

“no! i mean not in a bad way just, no i don’t wanna know just yet!”

he let out a sigh, you could see his cheeks burn red from embarrassment.

“i’m gonna go meet up with my friends now okay? don’t follow me! until we meet again my romeo.”

you gave him a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into the house.

“what the fuck just happened”

mark looked down at his now tight spiderman suit, did you just blue ball him?

𖦹 .ᐣ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ cryptic crush — [6] zoo wee mama

previous — masterlist — next

notes : surpriseee i’m posting this early cause i feel bad for making you wait 😔 plot twist chenle’s roommate is jisung that’s how jisung knew she was hot earlier in the smau!!!

taglist : @sunghoonsgfreal , @dalsosapple , @nanaxwi , @neverbeurs , @miichellehciim , @h-aechanie , @hizhu , @mystverse , @wonwootakemyheart , @ppeachyttae , @jae-n0 , @onlyhyunjin , @alethea-moon , @onyourmark-99 , @sunnystarred , @p-d1ddy , @hisrkive , @flwrs4marklee , @haechskiss , @rutheaflowers , @busy-daydreaming02 , @byeonwooseokabs , @bunniin , @odxrilove , @candied-czennie , @injunnie-lemon , @sunflowerhae , @nosungluv , @222brainrot , @vklve , @aerivrs , @slayhaechan , @aek1ra , @honeynanamin , @roseangelxfuma

[the-californicationist]

Pas de Deux

For @glitterypirateduck's May 2024 Ghost challenge (item #100)!

I don't write Ghost, but I love Duck too much to pass it up. <3

You invited your brother, Kyle, to come and watch your performance as Odette in Swan Lake. He makes it to the theatre, but he brings his friends. That's when you fall head over heels for Simon Riley.

You’d begged your brother to come to your final performance. You needed him there, needed to feel him in the crowd, even if you couldn’t see him out there. Kyle promised he would be there, and as you went through your pre-show routine, you hoped he would be true to his word. 

You knew it was difficult for him to get away from work. You’d left him with four tickets, asking him to invite his mates, if that would make it easier. You remember seeing his soft smile as he fanned out the bright gold tickets, inwardly laughing at you for not understanding the contrast between your world and his as he commented,

“These blokes aren’t really keen on ballets, Duck.”

He’d always called you by that stupid nickname. Well, the longer version had been his favorite as a teenage boy: the Ugly Duckling. But, it was fine. You’d called him Vile instead of Kyle most of his life, so you felt like it was an even score. 

“It’s important to me,” you’d insisted. 

“I know,” he nodded, conceding, “I’ll try.”

So, as the lights were warming up and you were applying your third layer of powder, praying for a smooth night, your heart stretched itself out, begging not to be broken, the whining strings of the cellos and violins in the pit below your feet made the sounds that your heartstrings were feeling — too quiet, too off-key. 

“Hey, babe,” one of your fellow dancers hissed at you from behind the backstage door, “Why didn’t you tell us you had a hot brother with a bunch of hot friends?”

“What?” You asked, confused, shaken out of your mental focus.

Then, over her shoulder, you saw Kyle’s face. He beamed at you, giving you a little wave. You leapt up from the floor where you were stretching, not yet in full costume, wrapping yourself in a warm wool sweater, rushing to greet him.

“You came!” You smiled up at him, wrapping him in a big hug. He hugged you back, full of his immense strength. You stood back to get a better look at him. He was all dressed up, and you couldn’t believe it. Someone behind him cleared their throat, getting your attention. 

“Oh, right. Duck, these are my mates,” he pointed them out one by one, “Johnny MacTavish, John Price, and Simon Riley.”

When he pointed to the last one, you felt your breath catch in your throat. It felt as if he was the one who caught it. He was a tower of a man, and his broad, muscular shoulders dwarfed his big friends, making the dancers who were rushing by him back and forth to the stage seem so small. Unlike the other two, his face didn’t light up in a warm smile. His bright eyes simply took you in, drinking you like a long draught, swallowing every piece of you. He studied your makeup, your neck and your shoulders, all the way down your legs, scanning you like he would be given an exam. 

“Nice to meet you. Thank you so much for coming, seriously. I’ve been trying to get Kyle to show up for months.”

The stocky man with the beard smiled back at you warmly, 

“We love a good ballet, don’t we, lads?”

You didn’t miss the way his elbow jutted out to stab Simon in the ribs, prompting him to speak. 

When he did, his voice was quiet, and although he had a thick Manc accent, his tone was controlled, measured, even, 

“Aye. Big fans.”

“Oh, well,” you couldn’t stop staring at Simon, so you pinned your eyes to the floor instead, “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Drinks after, yeah?” Kyle said, rubbing your arm supportively.

You nodded, watching them head back to the main auditorium. 

A few friends, dancers and stagehands alike, rushed up to you as they left, gushing about how attractive they all were. 

“Who was that bloody blond giant? Dressed in all black. He was lookin’ at you like he was hungry.”

“I want the Scot with the mohawk. I’m not takin’ no for an answer, girlie. Oh, my God. Did you see his kilt?”

“Your brother is so damn fit! What the fuck, babes?”

“I liked the scruffy one the best. Bet that beard feels good between —”

“Okay! It’s almost showtime. Let’s circle up,” you escaped from the prop room, scurrying back onto the main stage, trying to get your head back in the game. 

You went through your warmups with your dancers, and you let your costumers fit you into your opening dress. You needed to think about your work, but you couldn’t get Simon’s sharp gaze out of your mind. He did, in fact, look hungry, and the way his eyes raked over you made you feel every bit like a hot meal. 

As the music began, your mind went blank, blissfully quiet and clear. Your muscle memory took over, and you powered through the motions, enjoying the feeling of your blood rushing through your veins. You trusted yourself to get you through the first act, hitting all of your marks and expecting nothing less than perfection. 

It wasn’t until you put on the black mask for Odile’s dance with the prince that you began to lose your concentration. There was a wildness that took over you when you played the black swan, a ferocity that your studio director gushed about to the press and to anyone else who cared to listen. 

“She’s like an animal! It’s to die for. You must come and see her on stage. It will change this ballet forever!” 

You weren’t sure you appreciated being referred to as an animal, but you had to admit that there was something beastial about your transformation. The mask made you feel like you were a new person. It gave you the ability to become someone else, something else. You were sexual and aggressive, dominant and fearsome. It was just what Odile needed, and you delivered. 

Except, when you put the mask on tonight, you caught a glimpse of him from backstage. He was sitting in the box that you had bought for your brother, and one of the spotlights’ films had lit his cheek. It was a soft light, but it was enough. As you took your first steps on stage, you couldn’t help but look up towards him, and the flash of hunger in his eyes was still there. So, you decided to give him your animalistic side. 

You’d never danced the way you danced that night. The crowd was roaring, and your costar whispered to you,

“Go off, queen. What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, lying through your teeth. 

By the time you left the stage, daring to look back over your shoulder, Simon hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for one moment, and his nostrils flared, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself from your display. 

Before you knew it, the curtains closed, and you were bowing, dodging thrown roses and teddy bears, elegantly taking your leave. Your body was dripping sweat, and you rushed over to your bag, scarfing down some power gels and cracking open a nutrition bar, hurrying to bring your body back to normal after its ordeal. You’d be expected to pose for some VIP photos in just a few minutes, so you touched up your makeup, but there was only so much you could do. 

“My star!” Your director burst through the back door, “Beautiful! You were incredible tonight. Bring your masks. I have some people who want to meet you.”

You nodded, scooping up your masks and giving your bag to one of the other dancers to take back to the barre room. 

You schmoozed for a bit, but something itched at the back of your mind. You felt like you were being watched. Then, just while you were taking a photo with someone’s eager six-year-old, you spotted him. Simon stood behind Kyle, staring at you without shame while the other men laughed and joked with a gaggle of dancers. They had swarmed them, fluttering about, insisting to be invited for drinks, and Kyle was eating it up. You didn’t care, though. There was only one thing you wanted — aside from a hot bath and your comfy bed — and that was to enjoy those things with Simon Riley, if he agreed. 

“Excuse me, Madame Savoie. I’m exhausted, and my brother is in town. May I take my leave for the night?”

“Of course!” Your director beamed at you, “After that performance, you can take whatever you want.”

She laughed. Her rich friends laughed. You didn’t, but you managed a smile. 

You made your way through the crowd over to Kyle and broke the news, 

“Kyle, I’m not going to make it to the pub. I’m beat. I think I’ll just walk home.”

“You can’t walk home by yourself, Duckie. You live in bloody Soho.”

“I’ll be alright. I’ll just —”

“I’ll take her,” that Manc accent oozed its way through the din, and almost everyone turned to look at Simon as he offered his services. 

Kyle made a face at you, his arms wrapped around two dancers, one on each side, and he shrugged, 

“Alright, Duck. Tomorrow for breakfast, though. No excuses.” 

You watched as your brother untangled his right arm from one of your swans, and stuck out his hand for Simon to shake. You saw Simon pause, making clear eye contact with your brother, and extending his wide, pale hand. 

You weren’t exactly sure what weird sort of ritual you were witnessing, but it seemed like the two men had an entire conversation in just that short span. Then, Simon’s attention was turned fully back to you. 

“C’mon, then. I just need to get my bag.”

He didn’t say anything, but he did hold the door for you, and his huge stature did help part the crowd like some sort of biblical sea, making sure you had easy access to the exits. 

The barre room was a bright, white open space, and the wooden floors popped and creaked as you walked across them. 

Your impromptu bodyguard followed close behind, but he paused near the door when he was presented with the huge room.

“I’d hate to meet that ballerina,” he chuckled. 

You turned around, confused by his comment, 

“Which one?”

“The one who hit her head on the ceiling to make them build it this bloody high.”

You looked up to where he was pointing, laughing at his odd joke,

“It’s for the piano,” you explained. 

“That’s even scarier,” he grimaced, staring up at the high ceiling as if pianos would start falling from it. 

You laughed harder, then, imagining a flying baby grand. 

“No! No,” you caught your breath, “The sound. It helps us hear the music.”

“Ahh,” he nodded knowingly, conceding to you, “I see. That makes me feel safer.”

You knelt down and started to pack your back, changing your shoes and slipping out of your outer costume, laying the pieces out like you had been trained to do.

“So, which one do you like better?”

“Hm?” You looked up at him, and he bent his knees to squat down in front of you, plucking your white swan mask out of your bag and touching the fine silk bow with his thumb. 

“Which swan?” He asked, his eyes staring at you carefully. You got the sense that your answer really mattered to him.

“Well,” you said carefully, “Every girl wants to be Odette. She’s the star. It’s her story. And she gets to fall in love with a prince. But… once you play Odile, I think you realize that there’s… well, there’s something to be said for falling in love with yourself, too.”

You smiled, grabbing your black mask by the nose and holding it up to your eyes, glaring at him to make your point. 

“Same person on the inside, though,” he commented, looking down at the white mask in his hand. 

You stood up, and you grabbed his hand to help him up, 

“C’mere. I’ll show you.”

“You’re not going to find a tutu that fits me, love.”

“No tutus for you, I promise. Just… stand here. Like that. Put your hand out like this. Good.”

Once he was in position, you grabbed the white mask from him and tied it around your face, willing your sore body back into position. 

“This is Odette,” you said, making your hands and feet flutter to life. You spun into his hand, letting him feel the weightlessness of your body as you moved against him, the soft silken rustle of your leotard against his huge, callused hand. Eventually, you came to rest facing away from him, your thigh brushing his hip in a long, extended arabesque. His hand never moved from your waist, and you leaned into it, letting him balance you, his palm warm against your belly through the thin fabric. 

“And this…” you replaced the white mask with the black one, changing yourself for him, metamorphosing right before his eyes, “...is Odile.”

This time, you challenged him, making him feel your muscles and bones with each spin, pushing against him like a threat. You could feel his uncertainty, but he naturally steeled himself, grabbing you with more power, trying to harness your energy. But, you knew he couldn’t. He didn’t know what do to. All he could do was stand there and feel you as you moved against him, aggressive and virulent. 

As Odile, your final arabesque pressed into him lustfully, translating that fiery rage, your thigh slammed flush with his body, your hips forcing his hand to grip you to keep you from pushing him backwards. 

Then, you stepped away, removing the mask and doing a little bow for effect. 

“I see,” he murmured, seemingly unphased. But, even though he tried to hide it, his slight adjustment in his black dress pants did not slip by you. He stalked closer to you, closing the space that you had opened. His thumb came up to rub your cheek, right at the edge of the black mask, “Does the mask help?”

You dropped your volume to match his, still catching your breath a bit from the turns, 

“Yeah, it reminds me that I can be someone I’m not.”

“Or maybe you can finally be someone you are,” his thumb traced your smooth skin down to your mouth where your lipstick stains and cracked powder were surely a right mess. But, he didn’t care. He pressed the pad of his finger to your bottom lip anyway, moving so carefully and deliberately you felt like you were under his spell. 

“Maybe.” 

“Hm,” he said noncommittally, backing away from you, releasing you from his invisible hold. 

You finished packing, and you made your way into the dark night with him, walking quickly to get out of the spitting rain. He kept his arm around you, wrapping you in his warmth, shielding you from passersby. 

Your mind was racing. You had taken this stranger home with you, no questions asked. It was a risk that you just didn’t take. When was the last time you even had a bloke in your flat, much less one that you desperately wanted to snog? At least you had cleaned yesterday. It was too small of a place not to pick up at least a little bit each day. There was no room for you to be messy. 

“This is me,” you jingled your keys and pointed up to the tall, modern apartment building, gleaming in glass and steel amidst the historical Soho houses and businesses. 

Every floor was the same. It was all modern and white, almost sterile. You felt like you lived in a museum. 

“Mm, posh,” he commented, a little disgruntled. 

“Free,” you rolled your eyes, “The ballet company houses all of us here.”

“Why can’t my free accommodations ever look this good?”

You cracked open the door to your flat and let him inside. Your cat, Mustard, immediately began her figure-eight dance between his legs, her favorite hello to every person who dared enter her domain. 

“What do your accommodations usually look like, then?” You asked, pouring out some kibble for the cat and hanging your bag on its hook.

“Usually a tent, sometimes a cave. They even gave us a house once, no windows in it, but hey. You win some, you lose some.”

“I worry about Kyle, you know. You lads don’t have an easy job.”

“He’ll be alright. He’s a good one.”

“I know,” you smiled softly, staring up into Simon’s eyes, then you remembered your manners, “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, I’m alright,” he smiled back, turning his head to look around your flat. 

You gave him the short tour,

“Bathroom’s in there, and here’s my bedroom slash office slash den… Only enough room for the bed, really. I’m not here very much.”

“And…” He spoke slowly, carefully, no joviality in his tone this time, “Is it alright that I’m here, love?”

He eyed you cautiously, moving toward you, towering over your small frame, his hulking shoulders curling in on you, casting dark shadows across your vision, keeping you from the light. 

You peered up at him, ignoring his question,

“Do you want to shower with me? I’d fucking murder someone for a hot shower.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, bending forward so that he could press his soft lips to your mouth, kissing you as gently as you’d ever been kissed. But, you could tell, just by the way he moved his jaw, letting his tongue lazily trace your bottom lip, there was so much more fervor under his skin, waiting to be unleashed. Right now, he was Odette, on his best behavior. 

But, you wanted to see his Black Swan. Where was the beast that you knew must lurk within?

He pulled away from you, smiling a bit, and you giggled softly, dragging him along by his wrist, ducking into your spacious bathroom. It was the one thing you loved about this place. There was no living room to speak of, but damn if the bathroom wasn’t perfect. The huge glass shower was enough for a party of four, and the dual shower heads made you feel like some sort of royalty. You couldn’t wait to let your muscles soak under the cascade. Maybe tall, blond and handsome could put those strong hands of his to work and rub you down. 

You stood in the mirror together, looking at each other, and you started to undress. He twisted a finger under the collar of your sweater until he could feel your skin. Then, he slipped it off of your shoulder. You dropped your arm, letting it slide to the floor. Then, as slowly as he could, you watched as he writhed his finger under your leotard’s strap, pulling it down your arm. When it got to be too taut, you helped him, removing your arms and rolling the soft nylon down your aching body. 

Your wig was still on, but you weren’t about to wear it to bed, so you took it off in front of him, running your fingers through your short curls, letting your close-cut fingernails scratch your scalp.

Now, as you stood in the low light of your bathroom mirror, you were naked in front of him, standing with your back to him, covering your breasts in the mirror. Simon bent his head down so he could kiss your neck, and you felt him wrap a big hand around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. His kisses felt hot, and they were deeper than before, more hungry, pressing into you with more power. 

You sighed, enjoying his mouth as it worked on you, but well-aware of just how caked on the sweat and the makeup were after a show, making excuses for yourself,

“I’m sweaty,” you whispered.

“I know,” he smiled, sticking out his fat, pink tongue and licking his way up to your ear, just to make his point. 

He wrapped his arms around you, retreating for a moment, looking at you in the mirror. Then, when he saw you covering yourself, he gently pushed your arms away, making you reveal your bare breasts to him. 

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he praised you, kissing your scalp chastely. 

You turned your back to the looking glass to face him, and you tangled your fingers between the buttons of his dress shirt. You weren’t in any hurry to peel him apart, but as you did, you saw more and more evidence of his hard life. His enormous muscles were inked with old tattoos, war scenes etched into his creamy flesh in black and gray. But, carved across his skin were tens of deep, jagged scars, standing as proof of the cruelty he’d endured. 

You let your mouth fall to his chest, kissing him indiscriminately, licking when you wanted to, nibbling when you wanted to, giving in to your hedonism fully. 

He untucked his shirt for you, peeling it off of his shoulders, and you watched as his muscles rippled and bent around his bones, stretching under his will. You worked on his belt, and he watched you take him apart, both of your heads craned down, staring at your hands as you freed him from his trousers. The zipper fell smoothly, and all that was left were his boxer briefs, underneath which hung a very girthy cock. 

You touched him through the fabric, and he let out a shuddering sigh of relief. 

“You’re a big man, Mr. Riley,” you teased, playing with his head through the thin fabric, meeting his gaze and finding him fully unraveled. His eyes were hooded and lustful, and it made you wonder how he liked to be touched so you could keep him like this, under your spell.

He tucked his thumbs in his pants and pulled them down, bare with you, and he held your body flush to his in a warm hug. You could feel his cock trapped between you, wet and warm on your belly, and his big hands came down to grab two handfuls of your ass, prying you apart so that the cold air of the room would hit your pussy and tell you how wet you were, enjoying the feel of your meat between his fingers. 

“Good thing you’ve got a bloody big shower, love. Might actually be able to stand under the tap, me. Can’t believe it.”

You watched him step into the large glass box and turn on the stream, the heat making him sigh. You joined him, jealous of the feeling, and let your own shower head beat your muscles into submission. 

You hissed in pain and he heard it, snapping his attention to you like a dog with a bone.

“What is it?”

“Sore. End of the week is hard.”

He poured some of your soap into his hand, way too much, but you didn’t correct him, and he commented as he bathed you,

“I read about it before we came, you know. Read about the story. About what you have to do to be the star. Hard work, that.”

“There are harder things,” You said in a low voice, tracing a particularly suspicious-looking wound in the shape of a bullet on his right hip.  

“Not many. Turn around,” he commanded. You were pleasantly surprised how much you liked it when he took control. 

Here, in the warm nest of the shower, you gave him your weakness and let him take care of you. He massaged your shoulders and your back unprompted, rubbing slick suds all over your skin, and he washed your hair. You moisturized on your own, letting him smell all of your tonics and potions, washing your face as he fondled your ass again, enjoying you fully. 

You felt like time had stopped. 

You washed him, letting your hands roam, caring for him as he had cared for you, and when you were both clean, you couldn’t help but linger on each other a bit. He reached between your legs and explored you for a moment, swiping his huge finger through your curls. When he found your warmth, so different from the steam of the shower, and a different wetness, too, he sighed. 

“Is it alright if I stay the night?” He asked. 

It surprised you. You assumed that getting naked and showering in front of a man who would be immediately boxed up and shipped back to Khandor on the next flight out would have stayed without asking. He would have assumed that his presence was his invitation. 

You nodded, 

“Please stay, Simon.”

He touched your breast, plucking at your nipple softly, seeming like he was uncertain despite your answer. You pried,

“Are you worried about Kyle? Did he say something —”

“No,” Simon smiled, “He knows you’re a big girl. It’s just been awhile… for me.”

“If you want to go…” You let your hands spread wide across his chest, purposely avoiding his cock, not wanting to sway him in a covinous way. 

He shook his head,

“No. I just want you to be sure. I can’t… We leave again, and I can’t make promises.”

“No promises. I know what you do. I know who you are because I know who Kyle is. You aren’t misleading me here, Simon. But, if you don’t take me to bed, I might lose my bloody mind.”

The smile that spread across his face then was a true one. It couldn’t hide. It squeezed his cheeks up into his eyes and wrinkled their edges like a paper fan. His full lips pulled tight across those white teeth, his incisors long like fangs and just as sharp. And he blushed, that pale skin giving away his feelings to you. 

He kissed your forehead and turned off the taps, retrieving two towels and bundling you in one, on your way back to bed, you snatched your lotion and started to put it on in a half-assed way, hurrying for his benefit. 

“Hey, stealin’ my duties?”

Simon plucked the lotion out of your head and nodded to the bed. You lay down for him, waiting for what he had in store. He pumped the lotion into his hand, less this time, you noticed, and began at your thighs. His wide palms rubbed and massaged you until he had covered you, paying attention to your hands and feet, before commanding you again:

“Flip over, love.”

You gladly did, sighing and moaning shamelessly as he rubbed lotion all over your back and legs. When he got to your round, plump ass, he took more of his time. 

“Watchin’ you move up there on that stage, tryin’ to seduce the bloody prince, fuck… it made me feel like you were dancing for me. The way you move… your body… I’ve never seen anythin’ like it.”

“I was,” you confessed. 

“What?” He stopped massaging you, putting the lotion on your table and crawling into the bed with you. 

You waited until you were under the covers with your head firmly planted on his chest before admitting it to him, 

“I was dancing for you tonight. When I saw you with my brother… you were all I could think about. I could see you in the box, when I was Odile, and I wanted you to look at me.”

“I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

You weren’t sure who kissed who, but you were now trapped within each other, sucking at each others’ mouths, moaning and writhing in each others’ arms. Snogging like you were dying. 

His cock was already hard, but you felt its smooth, silky body pressing and throbbing against your belly as he held you close, hungry for your wet hole, eager to be the one to fill it. 

You let your hand fall between you, jerking him off, rubbing slick circles around his head until he had to break your kiss to cry out for you. You raised your leg over his hip and moved to put him inside you, but he shook his head and started chanting in short, breathless whispers,

“Wait, wait, wait…”

Then, he disappeared, leaving you at the top of the duvet alone, licking and sucking his way down your body until he reached your pussy. As he began to eat you, he also spread you apart. You’d never felt so exposed before, but he wanted to lick your petals, slurping them into his mouth like the lobes of a sweet orange, one by one devouring you in your sensitive state. 

Your hands scratched at his scalp, which he seemed to enjoy. You watched his eyes flutter with pleasure after a particularly vigorous passthrough. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Gimme that come, baby,” he growled, gently circling your entrance with two thick fingers before fitting them into you with a wet, slick sound. 

“Oh!” You called out, staring down at him as he planted his mouth over your clit, suckling at its swollen body, razing your nerves to ashes. 

It didn’t take long before he had you coming for him, and when he felt you tense up beneath his hands, that true smile was back. He sat up on his knees and helped you come back down, slowing his movements just enough to calm your breathing, but keeping you precariously balanced on the edge where he wanted you. 

“Turn over on your belly, love.”

For some reason, it made you feel incredibly vulnerable to have him behind you, and your body shivered from the tension. He noticed, and he lay himself over you, soothing you, whispering right into your ear,

“I’ve got you, love. You wanna stop, we’ll stop. No problem. That clear?”

You nodded your head, and he met your eyes, making damn sure. Then, satisfied, you heard him digging around in his discarded dress pants, the crinkle of the foil condom, and then the slick roll of the barrier slipping over his head. 

“Thank fuck for condoms,” he laughed, “Might give me a chance to last more than a few minutes in this pretty fuckin’ cunt.”

You laughed with him, shrugging,

“You come, we try again. I’m not bothered.”

“Mm,” he nuzzled your ear, laying his body over yours and letting you feel his weight. His cockhead was tickling your entrance, but he didn’t go any further, saying, “This must be my white swan I have beneath me. Sweet on me, huh?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, reeling from the sensation of his tip rolling around your hole’s entrance, desperately grinding for more. 

“What would the black swan say to me, huh?”

You looked over your shoulder at him, meeting his eyes, and just like you had in the barre room, you showed him your other side. When he saw the flash in your eyes of your wildness, he knew he’d gotten his wish. You shoved your hips down, spearing yourself onto him before he was ready for you, making him gasp as your pussy slaked over the first few inches of his cock. 

“Give me your cock, Simon.”

He recovered, biting his lip and thrusting into you, stuffing himself inside of you deeper and deeper, 

“There she is. My girl…”

The power that he used to fuck you was beyond anything that any other man had dared give you. You didn’t know this was a possibility. Your whole body was trapped beneath him, being kissed and crushed and fucked into a wet, submissive mess. His arms were planted beside you, pinning you in, and honestly, you had never felt so safe. 

You could smell your coconut body wash on him, mixing with whatever it was that made him a man, musky and dark, a hint of his Camel Blues. You wanted to bathe in him, just as he had washed you with his hands. Instead of soap, you wanted it to be him, smearing himself all over you, caking you in his essence. 

“Fuck, you are so tight. Squeezin’ me. Fuck…”

He was off of you in a flash, and before you knew it, he’d flipped you over. He spread open your legs and played with you for a moment, trying to stop himself from coming. His cock was in his other hand like a vice, and you watched him struggle with no small sense of pride. 

You decided it was your turn to lead this dance, and you sat up, kissing him full on the mouth, letting your tongue loll against his, sensuous and warm. Then, you wrapped your knees around him and shoved him back toward the foot of the bed, riding him down. When you caught your balance, you reached behind you to feed him into your pussy again, pressing into him with your weight. 

“Wait! Oh, fuckin’ hell.”

Simon’s hands went to your hips and then immediately to cover his mouth, stopping himself from gasping from the sensation. You ignored him, bucking against his huge cock, discovering you could take him even deeper. As you began to grind against him, you let your hands play in your folds, vibrating your clit and driving yourself wild. Your other hand went to his balls, rolling them gently in your hands behind your back.

“Ungh… You are gonna make me come, love.”

As soon as you heard his confession, you released him from your hand and paused at the top of your thrust, hovering on his tip in midair, teasing him ruthlessly. 

“Oh… you —” Simon never finished his sentence because he grabbed you around your hips and dropped you back to the bed, prowling over you and huffing like a stuck bull. You were laughing in gasping breaths from the shock of his strength, and you almost missed the moment when he began to press his swollen rod back inside of you, spearing you mercilessly. 

You whimpered, wrapping your hands around his neck like a lifeline.

“Mmm,” he purred proudly, “She needs me, now. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, letting him kiss you languidly with soft, pliant lips.

“Needs me like this, huh? Tell me.”

“I need you, Si—”

“Tell. Me.”

“I need you so bad! Please, please… fuck me like this. Fuck —”

He covered your mouth with his own and chased down your orgasm like a thief, watching as your eyes got wide, pulling away so he could hear you keen. 

“Yes, yes, yes…” He chanted in your face, not moving away for a second, unwilling to miss even one moment of it. 

“Simon…” You whined, feeling the shock of your release and the afterburn of your pleasure as it flooded through your core, messy and salacious. 

“Feel so good, baby,” he was barely speaking above a whisper, sounding like he was drunk, struggling to keep his rhythm.

“You gonna come in me?”

Hope and bliss flashed across his face, and he kissed you again, pressing his nose right beside your nose and muttering into your mouth, 

“Fuck yes, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

As he came, he held his breath, locked, frozen in time, his eyes wrenched shut and his mouth wide open in a silent scream. You held his head in your arms, keeping him close to you, keeping him safe like he had kept you.

When he finally took a breath, it was ragged and gravelly. He panted like a tired hound, sucking in air and leaning against you to recover. For a while, you just lay together, his big body draped over yours, healing in you, using your wet come as a salve. 

Then, he slipped away, leaving you bereft at the loss. 

He pulled you into his arms, making sure you were covered and warm in your bed, finding your eyes and kissing your cheek, wordlessly thanking you for what he had done to you.

“Do you want me to go?” He whispered, his eyes closed as if he couldn’t face the answer.

“Please, stay. Don’t leave me, Simon. Not yet.”

“C’mere,” he sighed, curling his body around yours, securing you in his arms, breathing with you until you both tumbled into a deep, dark sleep.

AO3 Link

[steviewashere]

If Found, Return to Me

Rating: General CW: Implied Sex (Mild), Mild Panic Attacks Tags: Post Canon, Post Season 4, Established Relationship, Humor and Hijinks, Eddie Munson is a Little Shit, Steve Harrington is a Little Shit, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Panic Attacks, Dork Eddie Munson, Dork Steve Harrington, 3+1

Okay, the idea was going to be a 5+1, but I couldn't get past three ideas without feeling the crawl of burn-out, so I lowered it to three. But this is based on This Post from @apomaro-mellow

👕—————👕 1. He grips the hem of his shirt and tugs. Chin tucked into his neck so that he can read the text, which is bold and black and dark on the white background. ‘If found, return to Steve.’ Eddie groans. “Do we seriously have to wear these?” He whines.

Steve stands in front of him. Hands on his hips. One foot cocked. “Yes, Eddie,” he answers emphatically. Even a little annoyed. Which, sue Eddie for having to ask over and over, but it’s sort of embarrassing. Especially when his boyfriend is wearing a similar shirt that just reads: ‘I’m Steve’. Makes Eddie look sort of childish, if you were to ask him. “If I’m taking you out of town, to a place I’ve never been before for a convention—something I’d probably never even go to—you absolutely have to wear that shirt. Knowing you, you’ll see some action figure stand and I’ll be abandoned by the comic books.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Or, y’know, we can just link arms and walk around the convention center?” Steve only widens his eyes and raises an eyebrow. He groans again. “Okay, fine! We’ll wear these stupid t-shirts.” His head tilts back, eyes to the ceiling of their hotel. Huffs through his nose. “I don’t even know how you got these,” he grumbles, “I’d rather not know.”

Sure, Eddie’s prone to running off. He gets excited, okay? Especially when it’s something he knows a lot about, or something he’s been hunting down for literal years, or if it’s a thing he can surprise the people around him with. Thinking of the last time he wandered off and Steve had to practically scruff him, it’d been while he was purchasing a dice set for Dustin’s birthday. So maybe Steve has a point. And maybe it’s sort of a genius idea. Eddie just wants to be stubborn about this, it’d save him the humiliation.

Except, he’s still wearing the shirt (Steve in his matching one) when they finally get through the doors of the convention center. There’s people in costumes all around them: Spock and Kirk, Marty McFly, Indiana Jones, Predator, and a few kids with their dads all dressed like those ponies that Erica likes. Something in Eddie trills. And he’s already a few steps ahead of Steve before he knows it. Steve trails behind him, wonder and awe shining in his own eyes, trying to keep up with Eddie’s frantic nature.

But then they’re not even close to each other. They buy lunch a couple hours in. Steve gets a large lemonade and downs it like he’s never had something to drink before. And then Eddie’s being told, “Please wait here by the bathrooms. Don’t go do anything stupid.”

He’s leaning against the wall that reads: ‘Restrooms’. Arms intertwined over his chest. Legs crossed on one another. In the distance, his eyes lock onto a Dungeons & Dragons booth. There’s tall shelves stocked with every mini figure he could ever pray for. A few long tables that showcase various maps, dungeon master screens, and little trays for dice. However, there’s an odd rack in the booth. A hat stand. And on it, he spots the perfect thing for Steve. It’s probably expensive, Eddie debates with himself, but it’s Indiana Jones’ hat. His feet are moving before he registers the people walking past him.

And then he’s there. Holding a classic fedora hat between his hands. Turning it around in his hold. Thumbing at the material; marveling at how smooth and buttery soft the fabric is. He spots the price tag, ‘$8.00’. It’s not a terrible price. Isn’t damaged in any way. So he keeps it in his left hand, grabs a paladin mini figure in his right, and purchases both items. Bag in hand, he moves to leave the booth, but is stopped by a gentle hand tapping on his right shoulder.

He turns and is met with a girl. She’s level with his chest, eyes wide and calculating, hand retreating back to her side. “Hi—um—you don’t know me at all, but I found somebody named Steve looking for you,” she states, “I saw your shirt and figured you were the guy he was talking about.”

Eddie slumps. A part of him can’t believe the stupid shirt even worked. “Yeah, it’s probably me that he’s looking for,” he sighs. “Take me to him.”

She’s hard to follow in the crowd of people. Shorter than most and extremely quick. But she links his arm with hers and practically drags him back towards the bathrooms. And there he is, Steve Harrington with his hands on his hips, a furrow to his brow, mouth thin-lined. “Eddie,” Steve greets. He smiles, though it’s not all that sweet, but kind enough for this stranger that had to shepherd Eddie. The girl leaves them. And Steve steps closer to Eddie, crosses his arms over his chest, and then has the gall to snort. He raises a hand and plucks at Eddie’s t-shirt, directly on the word: ‘Found’. “Looks like my stupid t-shirt worked,” he snarks. The sass to this guy is unbelievable.

“Yeah, har har, laugh it up,” Eddie says dryly. “Maybe you don’t want the little gift I got for you.”

Steve perks up. Eyes glowing with curiosity. “What’d you get?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smirks. Digs into his bag and flaunts the hat. “Saw it at a D&D booth, surprisingly. Probably would’ve been something we walked by, had I not…wandered.” He steps a little closer into Steve’s space, sets the hat on top of his head, and nods in approval. “Think that this purchase was a success. You look dashing, Mr. Jones.”

In a flurry of movement, Steve snatches the hat from off the top of his head. Gaping at it. “Eds,” he breathes, “this is so fucking cool.” He places it back where it was, pulling it tight to his hairline, and grins brightly. “Thank you, but also please don’t leave me alone here,” he says, “I got worried.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs sheepishly. “Just thought about how excited you’d be about the hat and couldn’t resist. Won’t happen again, promise.”

Steve chuckles. “I know it will, but that’s what the stupid shirts are for. Anyway…Can we go look at the Lego set-up that we passed by in hall E? I think I saw a spaceship and—“

“Lead the way, Indy.” He might have to buy his own shirts with how Steve bounds away from him.

——— 2. “If…Lost?!” Eddie exclaims. “Steve, what the fuck? Why—How—Where the hell are you getting these t-shirts?” He asks. They’re at Steve’s house, getting ready for a day trip in Chicago. And, sure, Eddie’s never been in his life. Doesn’t know the streets of Chicago like the back of his hand. Maybe Steve does know more about where they’re going, but that doesn’t change just how ridiculous this shirt is. How it glares at him in the bathroom mirror.

Steve sidles up next to him. His t-shirt the same as the one from the convention. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist. Rests his head on his shoulder. “I have my ways,” he states ominously. “And, again, I know you. Your sense of direction is practically non-existent. You can’t deny that, baby. The only reason you found Skull Rock is because you stumbled upon it.”

“I was on the run, couldn’t exactly look at a map,” he grumbles. “But do we have to—“

“Yes,” Steve sighs. “Now, can you come out to the car with me? I’m ready to go.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but does as he’s asked. Sits in the passenger seat. Shuffles through the radio stations. Teases Steve for his taste in tapes. But then they’re parking, getting out, walking around the city.

He follows Steve…for a while. Into a record shop. In the back of a diner, playing footsie under the table. Then he goes down a side street. Following a guy in a white t-shirt, hair high on his head, Adidas sneakers on his feet. However, the guy turns slightly. And…that’s not Steve. Eddie’s not sure how long he’s been following this stranger, or when he started, or from where he started from. Tries to rake through his brain to the last time he heard Steve talk about the street they were originally on, but there’s nothing. The words and names escape him.

He’s stranded in a city he’s never been to. Down a street he should’ve never come across. Wearing the most humiliating t-shirt known to mankind. Somewhere, again he’s not sure, behind him Steve is probably standing by some shop entrance, hands on his hips and a scowl perfectly framed on his face. And Eddie can’t help but panic. Standing with his back against the nearest wall. Breathing through his mouth like he’s about to beef it on the sidewalk. Eyes darting over and under and left and right. Trying to find semblance of normal, any little speckle of Steve. Something.

It’s not until he’s nearly sick to his stomach, churning and flipping and knotting, that a different stranger makes their presence known. They gently invade his space. Voice soft as they notice his panic. “Hey man, are you Eddie?” They ask. He nods way too quick, but sidelines the blur to his vision because talking to this stranger seems hopeful. Especially since they know his name. “Okay, cool,” the stranger mutters, “I ran into your…friend. Steve was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when I spotted him, said he couldn’t find you, but didn’t know where to look. So I volunteered to find you. And—well—judging by your shirt, I can gladly and safely reunite you guys. If you…If you wanna follow me.”

“Please,” Eddie murmurs, “I don’t know where I am.”

The trip back to Steve is arduous. Through crowds of people and past noisy cars. Bustling shops and the waft of various seasonings from a number of restaurants. But sure enough, Steve is on some precipice. His hair a mess and face pinched nervously. Then, he spots Eddie. Eyes lighting, clearing and glistening. A look of ‘I want to touch, but know I can’t.’

When he sidles up next to Steve after the stranger leaves, he carefully joins their hands. “I followed a complete stranger for probably thirty minutes,” Eddie admits, whispering. “His hair looked similar. And he was also wearing a white t-shirt. I got so scared, Steve.”

“Well, at least our stupid shirts worked again, right?” Steve asks, breathless and still verging breakdown.

Eddie squeezes their hands. “Can we go home, please? This is gonna sound crazy, but I think I prefer middle of nowhere Hawkins. At least I know where everything is.”

Steve nods rapidly. “I need to touch you in ways I can’t right now. Let’s go.” And then he tugs their hands, pulling them along sidewalks and through groups of people, down a couple side streets. It’s partially worth it, in the end. Definitely with the way Eddie’s skin is now decorated with Steve’s love, sticky and warm with it, too.

——— 3. The shirts end up following them to the Indiana State Fair.

Steve stops them at the front entrance, right after the ticket booth, and makes Eddie face him. “Listen to me,” he murmurs, voice low and near demanding. “If I turn my back for a second and you are gone, I will lose my absolute shit. Got it? Do not make me have to keep a rope tied to your belt loop.”

Eddie groans. “I get it, Steve. Can we at least try and enjoy ourselves?”

And they do for the most part. Steve plays at a few game stalls. Eddie carries the prizes. Their legs interlock underneath a picnic table, sharing greasy funnel cake and way too sour lemonade freezes. They watch a few performers, pet some fair animals, judge prized pigs like they know what they’re doing.

But then the ferris wheel comes up and Eddie sees an opportunity already forming. Like dots connecting or the stars aligning. He wants to drag Steve through the line and sit with him in one of the seats, wait for the wheel to stop at just the right height, and kiss him as the lights dim low and the darkness of the sky envelops them. Though, because he always misses a few steps in his plans, he doesn’t tell Steve that they’re going to the ferris wheel. Just starts walking. Shoving past other couples and accidentally sidelining a couple kids. He sneaks around large families. Maybe bribes a few people to let up on the ride’s queue.

Then, Eddie turns to his left. Where Steve is.

Or…Where Steve should have been.

“Shit,” Eddie spits. “Steve?” He calls over his shoulder. Frantically, he whips around in line. Eyes wide over people’s heads. Shoving them out of the way, albeit a little rough. Spreads the line into two little rows. But he comes up unsuccessful.

Until, right on cue, a stranger is tapping on his shoulder. Instead of letting them go into their whole spiel, he just sighs defeated, “Take me to him.”

There are no words exchanged. Not when Eddie follows behind, head bowed to the ground, dragging his feet like a petulant child. And then he stops where he sees Steve’s shoes, the bright blue Adidas sneakers he’d recognize anywhere.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Thought you were with me.”

Steve just sighs. Something kind of disappointed that shrivels Eddie slightly. “Where’d you even go?” Steve calmly asks.

Eddie finally looks to him, his eyes pleading. “The ferris wheel, but…But! In my defense, I thought you were with me. And I was going to get us a seat on the ride. Was gonna wait until it got up to the highest point and do something cheesy like kiss you…or blow you, whatever. But I—“

“Why didn’t you just ask me, Eds?” Steve laughs with his full body, deep from within his stomach. “We can do that, babe. All you gotta do is ask, y’know?”

“I didn’t think—“

“I know you didn’t,” Steve teases. “Seems like my stupid t-shirt idea worked again. That’s three times, you dork.” Eddie can only groan. He knows that he has a bad habit of wandering, doesn’t mean that the idea is any less annoying or dumb. “Come on, Eds. Stop throwing a fit. Let’s do your thing.”

“You sure?”

“Eddie, if you don’t kiss or blow me on that ferris wheel, I’m banning D&D at my place for a month. Let’s go.”

When they get off and start walking back to the car, Steve tugs on the back of Eddie’s jeans. He yelps, startled, but quickly shuts his mouth when he’s faced with a stern look. “You know what I just remembered?” Steve asks him. There’s mirth in his eyes. Eddie doesn’t trust this at all. “Earlier, when I was telling you about wandering, I mentioned maybe tethering you to a rope. I might have to do that. Since you can’t behave.”

Eddie heats from the inside out. A coil tightens in his stomach. “You couldn’t even if you tried,” he bites back.

Later, he finds out, Steve is exceptional with rope. What a fucking boy scout.

——— +1 The Mall of America didn’t earn its title for nothing. The place was huge, that much Eddie could discern. Which made perfect sense when buying the new and improved: ‘If found, return to…’ shirts. However, this time, it was Steve with ‘If Found’ t-shirt.

At first, Steve didn’t know how to feel about the new shirts. Simply because he didn’t seem to see a reason for why he’d get lost or wander or be found in any capacity. But given the surprise Eddie had for him, the reason definitely fit the bill.

What Steve didn’t know, that Eddie one hundred percent knew, was that a Lego store was opening up at the mall. Or, has been opened at the mall. It was the perfect time for a little road trip. A little Fall of 1992 trip to Minnesota. Driving by trees and such. Parking in the Mall of America’s lot. Figuring out what stores to hit first, what food they wanted to eat, where the bathrooms were located. Typical day out sort of things.

However, one moment Steve was with him and the next…Eddie was scouring the food court for his fiancé. Trying not to throw up the meager lunch he just had. Swallowing down panic after panic after panic that rose in his chest like tsunami waves. This place was too big for either of them to wander or get lost or have a mind of their own. Not with the way they impulsively purchases things, an awful habit they both exuded—today is the worst day to do just that.

Which leads him to tapping on the shoulder of a guy around his age. Who’s carrying two large yellow Lego bags. Just sitting back in one of the food court chairs, minding his own business. Until, he whips around to find Eddie startled and red faced. “Uh…Can I help you, man?” The stranger greets.

“Sorry, hi,” Eddie says. “I just—You look like somebody who can maybe help me. I’m looking for my…friend, his name is Steve. Uh—White, around my height, dirty blonde hair. He’s wearing a pair of near skin tight Levi jeans, light wash and a white t-shirt that matches mine. Except, his says ‘If found, return to Eddie’. I’m Eddie, by the way. Anyway—Uh, you probably just came from the Lego store, yeah?”

“Sure,” the guy says, completely unsure of this interaction. “Why do you need to know—“

“So you can like lead me there? I’ve never been there. And like he’s really obsessed with those damn sets and like that’s really cool or whatever, but I need to know where he is because we’re from out of town and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing in this mall or where to—“

“Alright, dude, calm down,” guy placates. “We’ll find your friend. Just…That store is pretty fucking busy. Really popular, you know? I’ll take you there, but with how panicked you are, it would be best if you waited by the entrance of the store. Is that…”

“That’s perfectly fine to me!” Eddie nearly shouts. 

He follows on this person’s heels. Bobbing and weaving through crowds of other over-consumers. Maybe shoving a few of them out of the way just so he can stay with that guy. But eventually, they make it to the outside of the rather precarious Lego store. Its yellow storefront nauseating to Eddie. Almost—Genuinely frustrating him beyond belief. And he sees Steve. Standing near the back of the store. Staring up at one of the shelves, but he lets the stranger he found grab Steve for him. Because no way in hell is Eddie going to survive being swallowed up by the awfully large crowd swamping the store.

Steve emerges from the crowd, a bit offended and a lot upended. But then has the gall to appear sheepish when he’s led directly to Eddie. With a nod and a tight smile, Eddie waves the stranger off. Almost wants to run back and get his name, send him a thank you card from the Hallmark store he saw on their way there.

He turns to face Steve, though. Leans them into the wall. “Jesus, Steve,” Eddie groans. “Is this what you put up with?”

“Is what—“

“The fucking panic? The—The whirling around and checking in the weird obscure places? Tapping on stranger’s shoulders only to see if they have a single goddamn idea where anything is…ever? Like—“ He sighs. “I thought that I’d never find you, Steve! You could’a at least told me you were going to go somewhere on your own. Maybe give me an idea of where you’re going?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh, so now that’s important to you?” He petulantly mutters. “Can’t go off and have fun without being pestered—“

“I’m not pestering, Steve!” Eddie grits. “I’m being concerned! I’m—You scared me,” he admits quietly. “And you ruined my surprise.”

“Ruined?” Steve echoes, confused. “What do you…oh. Oh. I—“ Then, Steve looks down to the floor. Eyes ashamed and arms tight to his body. “I didn’t…I was just excited, I’m sorry. The store was on the directory when we first came in and I like—“ He chuckles a little bit, loosening up. “—I fucking memorized where to go. What path to take. Because I just really wanted to look in there. They’ve got—Eddie, they have this one set in there, it’s a freaking spaceship and it’s called the…The Galactic Meditator or something? I can’t—That doesn’t matter,” he rambles. Takes a deep breath and pushes himself tighter into Eddie’s space. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie gives a single nod. Closes his eyes and staves off the rest of his panic and anger. He’d be a hypocrite if he lashed out right now. He knows that. And, honestly, seeing Steve geek out about toys…of all things…is kind of endearing. Maybe even doing something for Eddie.

He puts on his best smile, something genuine and pulled from within him. “It’s alright,” he whispers. “I—I should’ve known that you were going to come over here.”

“I mean, you did a little bit, right? Had to find somebody that led you here?”

“You got me,” Eddie breathes. “Y’know all my tricks.”

Steve hums beside him. “I’m actually sorry, though, that I ruined the surprise you had in mind. This is a pretty cool thing.”

Eddie smirks. “Steve Harrington admitting to a geek thing being cool…When did the tables turn?” He teases. “Seems like God has heard my prayers,” he jests. With a quick sneaky look around, he grabs Steve’s hand. Squeezes firmly and exhales the last bit of his panicked nerves. “Does my fiancé want to…Oh, I don’t know…Get a Lego set?”

The hand in his tightens with a harsh, unbelieving amount of strength. He almost winces. “Really?” Steve asks, perking up. If he had a tail, it would most definitely be wagging. “Can we actually? I really want that one that I found in there, the uh…Galactic whatever it was called. I’m bad at the names, which is weird because I’ve been building these sets for a while, but I always seem to get the names wrong and I—“ Eddie interrupts with a squeeze to his hand again, a smile bright and plastered to his face. “Sorry,” Steve sheepishly says, “Let’s go in there. I can show you and maybe…you can get one of your own?”

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against Steve’s cheek, leaving a very chaste but all the same kiss there.

The panic was worth it in the end. Because watching Steve in his element, nerd-ing over toys and how to best put them together, really makes Eddie’s chest warm. In a way that tells him he’d put up with wandering all his life, if only to get Steve to smile the way he does when proudly displaying his new spaceship.

👕—————👕

[mokulule]

A Pinch of Salt - snippet 2

Okay, so I have been reminded by @clockwayswrites that I could post some things instead of just hoarding them like the dragon in my icon. So here ya go. Maybe I'll even get around to updating Catnip in the coming days who knows. Previous

Fuck, Danny cursed internally as he struggled to keep up with the long-legged stride of Trenchcoat. Whatever had happened to that ghost to make it into something like that was not good, he needed to do something! But as long as Trenchcoat was here he couldn’t exactly do as he usually would: transform and punch it. The man had seemed very ready to do something to Danny and the unspeakable soul situation going on had Danny extremely leery of finding out what that something was.

At least getting eaten seemed unlikely from the man’s earlier horrified response.

So running.

They went down a hallway, up a staircase, down another hallway and into a would have been shop. They stopped for a moment in the square space catching their breath. Trenchcoat let go of him to go peek back around the corner. Finally Trenchcoat’s shoulders relaxed.

“We lost it for now.” Actually it was more like the ghost lost interest in them; as they’d gotten further and further away from the central plaza of the mall the ghost had stopped following them. Not that Danny was going to tell Trenchcoat that. He had no idea how he’d explain it in a way that didn’t make him extremely suspicious. His hair was dripping salty water making it hard to forget he’d already been assaulted twice - he did not wanna know what else the man stored up his sleeves.

Preferably, somehow he’d get Trenchcoat to leave.

The moment of inattention cost him as he was grabbed once again by Trenchcoat and towed through the would-maybe-someday be a store to a door in the back. This led to a store room and a door to the outside. It was unlocked it turned out and Danny realized this was probably how the man had gotten in.

“Alright, kiddo, time to leave.”

Trenchcoat opened the door and pushed at Danny’s back.

“No way!” Danny exclaimed digging his heels in.

“Yes way,” Trenchcoat mocked, “go home kid, I’m a professional.”



 There was no way Danny was leaving, not at this point. Ghosts were his area of expertise - or well, Danny couldn’t really claim to be an expert, but they were his responsibility at least! He had a unique skillset and no matter what Trenchcoat claimed, he did not look any sort of professional. He made his opinion of his claim known by giving the man his most dubious look.
 - 
John hated teenagers and this teenager in particular.

He didn’t know what it was about teenagers, but they were just merciless in their judgment in a way adults were probably usually too polite to be. In any case that little up and down there, with the slightly raised eyebrow made him feel like he’d worn a clown costume to an accounting job.

“Bloody Hell, will you just leave before I decide to feed you to the specter!”

The boy crossed his arms, standing his ground. “You can try.”

John dragged a hand down his face, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“What are you even doing here?” “I’m here for the ghost.” Plain, even, said with not a smidge of hesitation. “You’re here for the-“ John cut himself off, hands opening and closing, inwardly cursing children and their stupid dares. “And what pray tell where ya gonna do when you found the ghost?”“I figured I’d try talking to them.”“You what?!” John spluttered. He’d expected him to say he hadn’t expected to find a ghost, there went his theory of this being a dare.

“There is no talking to that!” He pointed vaguely in the direction they’d lost the spectral storm. “Of all the sodden-“

“Them.”

John’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “What?” “Them. They are a them, not an it or a that.”

John opened and closed his mouth. Was he really getting a lecture on pronouns?

“It is a spectral storm. Whatever poor spirit it used to be, is not there anymore. There’s no mind there, it’s pure emotion out of control. There’s no way back from that.”

The boy scowled at him, clearly disagreeing. It didn’t matter. 
John pointed at the door.

“Leave.” “No.” They stared at each other neither giving an inch.

Urgh, this had to be why Batman was so grumpy all the time. John could not do this. He threw up his hands and turned around. He worked around things, not through them and here he was engaging in the folly of arguing with a bloody teenager.

“Suit yourself.”

Gods, he needed a smoke. He’d hardly finished the thought before he was pulling the package of smokes out of its pocket with practiced ease. He was lighting the smoke by the time he noticed the unimpressed look he was getting. Satisfied, he took a deep drag and slowly breathed out the smoke. The kid grimaced and John smirked.

“Those are gonna kill you.” “As opposed to the rest of my lifestyle?” He returned with a nod in the direction of the Storm that probably couldn’t kill him, but the kid didn’t know that. Satisfied at the way the kid’s nose scrunched, he walked back the way they came from.

“And what are you supposed to be?” Kid asked falling in step with him, and John just knew he was being annoying on purpose with that tone of voice. He was not gonna bite. He was an adult. He kept his gaze straight ahead as the kid started guessing.

“Excorcist? Ghostbusters wannabe?”

There was a pause, then a flash of a sly smirk John only caught because he’d stopped to look down the hallway.

“Ectologist?” The suggestion hit John like a metaphysical sledgehammer and he recoiled in disgust.

“Fuck. No.” He shuddered an extra time as if that would remove the oily feeling. “I’m an occult detective. You happy now? Shit kid, you don’t pull your punches do you?”

-

“So what’s the plan, Trenchcoat?”

“Trenchcoat,” John mouthed to himself before shaking his head. “The plan is you keep out of the way and I deal with the raging ghostie.”

“Yeah, no, you’re gonna do better than that. This is not my first time dealing with a ghost. But I don’t know what occult detectives do.”

John pondered the statement about this not being the first time he’d dealt with a ghost, and maybe there was something to the death magics he gave off after all. He groaned internally, why was he doing this?

“Standard practice, kid. Contain and banish.” He held up first one finger then two.

Danny rolled his eyes. It didn’t sound too different from his approach to ghosts, he caught them and sent them back to the ghost zone, but Mr Occult Detective didn’t exactly carry around a Fenton thermos.

“And how do you contain? No,” he offset the clearly sarcastic response. “I mean what are your requirements?”

Trenchcoat rolled his eyes, but humored him.

“I need a large enough open space and a small moment of preparation, then just gotta lure it in and do a binding spell.”

Danny narrowed his eyes and looked towards where he felt the raging storm of ghost energy. “Like the plaza.”

“Ideally yes.”

“So you need a distraction.” Danny started walking. A hand fell on his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going? If you’re so insistent to stay, you’re not leaving my sight.”

Danny shrugged off the hand and turned around.

“The plaza is the center of the their power. You need someone to lure them away.” Danny watched the emotions flash across the man’s face with a small bit of amusement. He really didn’t want Danny involved if he could help it. Finally the man’s face settled on exasperation.

“I will figure something out.”

Danny smiled, taking a step backwards.

“No, you will give me a ten minutes headstart to lure our ghost friend far enough away they won’t immediately notice your stench so close to the heart of their haunt.”

As if sensing his intentions Trenchcoat made another grab for him which he dodged. And then he ran. He was sure it was only the threat of the ghost that prevented the man from yelling after him.

He just hoped he’d listened, because Danny was about to go piss off an already raging spirit. Trenchcoat better be ready.

Fun times.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Rewatching Shadow and Bone so here are some of my favourite little details that I haven’t seen loads of people talk about (this is almost definitely just part 1 so stay tuned)

The bird cage in Heleen’s office

The masks on stalls in the Ketterdam streets, including Komedie Brute masks, what look like the Jackal masks, and what I believe might have been a sun summoner mask

The song that Ravkan soldiers in Mal’s unit sing whilst they march in s1e4 is the Kerch drinking song Nina sings for Inej on the boat in Six of Crows

Matthias’ hesitation before saying “I feel nothing for you” and Nina replying “then I guess that makes you good at your job” is SO reflective of Matthias’ realisation that Brum didn’t have to drown the good parts of himself to do terrible things the way Matthias always did; Matthias had grown to admire Brum for what he believed was the ability to silence the good in himself in order to do what “must be done” because he found that so difficult to do, and acknowledging that Brum didn’t find those things difficult the way he did was one of the most important moments of being able to separate himself from the Drüskelle beliefs and begin to understand that what he went through was actually abuse and what’s implied to be at least similar to Stockholm Syndrome (I’ve written at length about this and if I get going I’ll never stop, so if anyone wants to know more lemme know and I’ll tag you in my post about it)

“Pomdrakon Players”, the group the Crows join to infiltrate the Little Palace, references Ravkan desert “Pomdrakon” where you soak raisins in brandy then set them on fire and try to grab them in the dark that Nina tells Matthias about on the ice

This isn’t an observation I just thought you’d all like to know that when I was watching the map room scene in episode 4 every time Alina said ‘Aleksander’ I repeated her in a stupid voice, which was really unfair to Alina because she doesn’t know but it was a genuine reaction and I stand by it because screw the Darkling

The comment that the Fjerdans don’t mark ash tress because they’re scared, I love that. I wonder if they pray when they mark trees, like they do when they cut them down? I personally got the impression that all trees were precious but ash trees were sacred when I read the book

The valve to turn out the lights in the Royal Archives Heist because all the lighting is gas powered!! Like I know this probably was just a thing we knew without really thinking about but it’s also really cool in that it reminds us about the class difference between the Crows and the others since, at least in the books, gas lighting isn’t as common to the Barrel as candles and bone lights are but is implied to be more common among the Merchants

Also not an observation but “you’re the quarter master, aren’t you?” “Yep” *wallop* will never not be hilarious and iconic

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the costume department for this show were goddamn miracle performers thank you for your service. I’ve banged on about the symbolism in the costumes before so I won’t now, but I have really only talked about s2 so I guess if you want more I could talk about s1

“No guns” *walking past Jesper* “no knives” *walking past Inej* “no weapons of any kind” *wait where’s Kaz* will always be fabulous

I genuinely have no idea how they did the Tailoring on Alina’s hair when Genya first does it for her but it is incredible like I don’t know exactly what changed but it just… I don’t know, it’s amazing

[partycatty]

can we get ninja mine johnny and we’re riding him and pulling on his little scarf like it’s a reign and his makeups getting all smudge and he’s overstimulated and about to cry

love you 💙💙

ohmyfuixdindgodyes love u MORE 🩷

johnny cage > silent movie

you and your co-star sneak off for some costumed fun

warnings: u get FRICKED, porn with like the slightest tinge of plot, johnny whimpers, author prays to a mk1 ninja mime altar on the daily (the one in the armageddon chapter was mk11 johnny, dammit!), you're also wearing a stupid costume, cockwarming?

notes: pookie ur goin CRAZY in my inbox rn ily for it

[ masterlist ]

• you two swore to keep it professional, but every brush of a hand against your ass or the way you'd press against him in scenes you were backed into his body only sent you too into a dazed neediness. johnny especially.

• the agent that put you up to this contract was a godsend, you realized. at first you saw a hefty paycheck for a ninja mime sequel, but then you got to see johnny in all his glory. even with that stupid, stupid makeup on, you had to wonder if you were quite literally soaking through your own ridiculous clown-doctor getup.

• the tension hit a hard peak when you two were given a break when some of the equipment malfunctioned, and although instructed to remain close, johnny gripped your arm and looked into your eyes with what you could only describe as a carnal desire. a look you knew far too well, one that suited his features nicely.

• you could barely close the door to your trailer before he's sauntering up to you, and you only get a quick glimpse at his raging hard-on before he's snaking his hands around your sides.

• foreplay is a myth when he's crawling up your side, placing sloppy open mouth kisses against your neck. there's no time to giggle at the lipstick marks he leave behind because he's already trying to seek more contact by humping his boner against your thigh. you almost want to tease him for his desperation. who would have thought that an a-lister like himself was such... a needy whore?

• needing to get impossibly closer, your hand finds the red scarf hanging neatly around his neck and you tug with fervor, massaging your lips into his so hard that you feel the sudden border of his teeth. all the while, he's rutting into your thigh and dropping lazy whimpers, spewing about how much he needs you.

• needing to feel how hot and hard you make him, you tug his costume upward, exposing his delicious abs and giving you plenty of access to his waistband. you sink under hungrily, wrapping your hands around his shaft the moment you can make out its form, stroking over the veins and only barely making it to his tip with each movement. johnny pulls away from your lips only to breathe, gasping at the sudden skin contact and lurching forward to bite down on your shoulder.

• if anyone heard you two, you'd definitely face a consequence that felt too distant at the moment. now, you had a pretty boy begging for your body, and i dunno about you but that takes number one priority.

• you pull him from your shoulder and push him onto the couch of your trailer, a devious glint in your eye. he falls back with a husky "oof," legs spread and waiting for whatever you'll do to him. you counter this preparation by pushing his legs back together and fumbling with the rope belt that held up his costume's pants.

• his cock springs free of the getup, curving down him with a thick, clear droplet of precum sliding down his shaft. you stick out your tongue and gather a palmful of saliva, coating him evenly and messily. you needed him inside of you just as much as he needed - well, he'd take anything you'd give him.

• your pants are shaken off quickly as you straddle his thick thighs, hiking up your lab coat with your clean hand as you reveal your wet pussy to him. his dick visibly twitches at the sight, and he lets out a deep, rumbly sigh.

• it's clear that between your mixture of fluids and the heat in the room, you're both ready. you spread your folds out wide as you do your best to encapsulate his cock inside of you, feeling burned by the stretching but accepting it like it's your destiny. it doesn't take too long for your hips to meet his, and all johnny can do is whimper and cover his mouth, head tilting back as even glancing at you would make him cum. an embarrassing threat from the man who's a self proclaimed playboy sex god.

• "let's see how silent this mime can stay," you giggle to yourself as you shamelessly swivel on his cock, earning a heavy buck upward. johnny is shaking, quite literally trembling over your pussy. he wants nothing more than to worship your body and taste everything you give.

• as your pace picks up, you realize you're fed up from only seeing the underside of his chin, and you tug on the scarf again to get his head to snap up to face you. his eyes widen at the sensual horror in front of him, you're riding him like a damn bull.

• johnny normally yaps, but you've rendered him a pathetic disaster of a man. he can only mutter curses and whimper your name like a prayer, like if he doesn't reach the quota of saying it you'll disappear. tears prick in the corners of his eyes as you tug on the sides of his neck from the fabric.

• disgusting slapping echoes off of the tiny trailer's walls, and johnny's hands fly to your ass to squeeze your cheeks. alternating between gripping the side of the couch cushion and your ass is the most he can bring himself to do.

• your fist keeps a firm grip on the scarf, but you tilt your palm up to insert a thumb into his mouth, one that he accepts embarrassingly quickly. his tongue flattens as he tastes your thumb, eyelashes fluttering shut as he blinks away tears.

• thank god the studio didn't invest in waterproof makeup, because you swear you've seen the sight underneath you in a medieval painting or some shit. he looked good, too good. johnny's tears melted down the sides of his face, leaving flesh-toned streaks behind. his pink lips were more apparent past the lipstick. you ruined him.

• his fingers dig into your asscheeks with pure delight, his hips now sloppily bucking up into you to meet you halfway with each drop. a part of you wanted to tie his arms down with the scarf and take control, but he was such a good boy for you, so patient.

• you mutter praises, your hand in his mouth now raking through his hair, knocking that damn beret from his head and ruffling his brown locks. the praises sounded like the angels of heaven calling his name, and he shot upward with one final, deep whine. just as you felt him twitch and empty himself inside of you, a firm knock was on your trailer door.

• "ms. lastname, the issue's been resolved. we're going to retrieve mr. cage and get back to filming," a production assistant drones into the crack of your door to get the message through. your hand returns to his mouth, this time holding it against his mouth to muffle his orgasmic whimpers.

• it took all these years of acting lessons to finally pay off, as you keep your voice level and as normal as you could possibly muster.

• "coming!" you reply with a devilish grin as you feel him continue to paint your insides, his eyes rolling back as he heavily pants through his nose. all you can do is sit there and take in every drop he gives you, unmoving on his cock to not alert the assistant outside.

• when you determine the coast to be completely clear, you lift yourself off of him, clenching your thighs tight. johnny gasps and frowns at the sudden coldness around his semi-hard dick, like he wasn't quite done with you.

• "you'd better come up with a good excuse for that," you say, making a circular motion with your finger at his makeup-clad face. he drunkenly grins at you, lopsided and low-lidded. "you look ruined."

• "good," he replies sleepily, still beaming like a fool. "is it a good look on me?"

• "very much so, ninja mime."

[freemansgirl]

killer

pairing: amber freeman x fem reader

summary: reader is held at gunpoint once amber finds out that reader knows her big secret. (inspired by nate pulling the gun on maddy scene in euphoria because that is A CLASSICCC angst scene and one of my favorites in media)

warnings: gun, dark!toxic!amber, amber is being manipulative, amber not being a good girlfriend, emotional abuse, physical abuse, amber pulling a gun on reader, reader is crying, traumatized reader

it’s not like you wanted this to happen, same can say for amber. you didn’t mean to trip over the ghostface box that had her costume and knife in it, it was accidentally sticking out of the bed. you never seen the box before and opened it out of curiosity. this was all a big mistake, amber tried to keep it a secret from you as much as possible. at some point, this was going to happen… some secrets cant stay hidden forever.

“amber, have you lost your mind?! what the fuck is this, how can you keep this a secret from me?!”

“you weren’t supposed to find this, (your name).”

the two of you began to get into a heated argument, you felt the need to run away because you know you can’t DATE a serial killer, it’s morally wrong to do that. your friends, family, and everyone around you would hate you if they knew the truth. as you begin to try to run to get to the doorframe in amber’s room to escape, you felt a very familiar pale-skinned hand grab your wrist, yanking you, causing you to fall back a little. “not so fast.”

once you turn around and want to open your mouth to protest amber to let you go and leave you alone, you see something black and shiny is pulled out of her back pocket… it’s a gun. you can feel a chilling spine crawl all over your body, your hairs on your body are standing up while you look at her with widened, scared eyes. “i love you, i love you, i love you.” you say rapidly, as you try to calm her down and pray that will help her put the gun away so she doesn’t kill you. you hear a small yet sinister chuckle escape her mouth as she looks at you with an evil smile. she knows you’re saying this out of fear to escape the moment, not because you actually love her, she’s not stupid. mindy tells her about all of the time about manipulation tactics from the victims side in abusive relationships in movies, plus amber has seen way too many horror movies to see how this plays out in abusive relationships or how people beg for mercy when a serial killer is about to end their lives.

she puts the gun to hip of your body and she seems to lead you to her bed, as you start to frantically look at her, unable to read her blank expression. “you’re…. scaring me… put the gun down…” you say, biting your lip to prevent your lips from trembling for a bit. she still had a blank expression, her eyes never blinked and looked deeply into your soul. you hated when she would sometimes do this in an argument, when she would purposely show no emotion so you couldn’t understand her or predict her next move. your girlfriend tilted her head to the side and smirked…, “good, that’s the point.” is all that comes out of her mouth. the gun is still adjusted to your hip, her hand is sitting on your thigh as she gently sighs looking into your watering eyes.

“now, you know i… love you right, baby? you know i know you a lot better than everyone else around you, just like you know me better than anyone else around me.” she whispers, as she rubs your thighs lovingly, you can feel your whole body tense as it begins to shake. she begins to look down at the locket necklace she has on her neck, she opens it and stares at the happy picture of you two… moments before disaster… she starts to sigh again. you start to stare at her, once again, before you shake your head agreeing with her. “now… let’s see if your words match your actions.” she says, as she leans above you and presses the barrel of the gun towards your head, the muzzle pressing more into your forehead skin. “stop, stop, amber…. please stop, i won’t tell anyone, i won’t go to the police… just let me go and we can talk about this!” you yell to her as you start panicking as you move backwards due to intense force that was on your head, as you feel your back pressing into the bedsheets. the words don’t do anything to her, as her figure is officially above you now with the gun still against your forehead.

“shut up!” she got loud and angry for a second before her facial expression returned to normal, “just… quiet down, princess. i don’t want anyone hearing us, (your name), do i make myself clear?” she spoke, sternly with a serious look in her eyes as you nodded. she didnt like the fact that you got loud, worried about the fact if anyone in the neighborhood can hear you from the window. speaking of the window, she got up and closed the blinds so no one could see the scene. she walks back over to you, hovering above you like she was before with the gun pressed against your forehead again.

“hm….” she hums softly, looking at your saddened and shaking figure, you start whimpering, more and more as tears spill out of your eyes. “back to what you said earlier about talking things out, i like this way of talking more, straight to the point and simple.” she says, as her other hand caresses your face softly. you flinch from her touch and look away to the side, this causes her to get mad and grab your face roughly. “you say you won’t go to the police, right? you say you love me, right, despite me being a killer? swear on it.” she says in a scary and upset tone, as she is breathing heavily on you.

you start to get quiet and as she starts talking to you, too scared to answer. “answer me!” your girlfriend grabs you by your shoulders with her left hand, keeping the gun on your forehead with the right hand. your body was so shaken up from fear and trauma, causing you to sniffle and hold back your tears. all you did was stare at the girl you love, trying to open your mouth but all that came out was choked sobs. this was another one of amber’s tests… she truly needed to see if you loved her, she wanted to know was what you had was real with her. first, she asked you would you still love her even if she was the killer one time you guys hung out…. you did say yes because you know how her humor is and didn’t take her seriously… but now you’re stuck in this… disaster. “yes, i won’t tell anyone, please! i love you too much to do that to you, baby, i won’t tell anyone, please just believe me!” you scream back at her, freaking out and you just wait for her to put the gun down.

she stares at you, still feeling unsatisfied with your performance, she nudges the gun into your forehead. “fucking swear on it!” the raven haired girl yelled, her voice was laced with fury and her eyes got larger. when you stared into her eyes, you weren’t dealing with amber freeman, you were dealing with ghostface. this is not the girl you ended up in love with, the same girl you smile, kiss, hold hands, laugh, cuddle, have sex with, have movie marathons with. this is not the same girl that cuddled and protected you through all of the ghostface murders just for her to be the one responsible for it. this is a whole other person.

“i swear! i swear!” you yelled at her. this is finally what was able to satisfy her, she finally smiles now that she got what it is that she wanted. you can feel the weight on the bed shift as she gets off you, giving you a bit of space. she walks to you, she begins to rub your shoulder as she gives you quick reassurance. you start to flinch from her touch, your body is curled up in a ball. “hey, sweetheart, it was just a joke. there’s no bullets in the gun, see?” amber says, holding the gun up to show you the inside of the barrel. that makes the situation even ten times worse than it already was. she sees all of this as some bullshit joke, she didn’t even care about the drama and harm she caused to you.

honestly, amber didn’t WANT TO DO THIS… she needed to do this just to make sure there was trust and loyalty between you two. “i’m sorry, baby, i thought you would know better enough to know that i’d NEVER hurt you… i’d never kill you. i love you too much to do such sick, twisted things.” she says, as she begins to grab the black box off of the ground. you couldn’t believe the words that came out of her mouth, she claimed that she would never hurt you, but she did. she begins to start getting ready as she slips on the infamous ghostface black robe. “if you loved me, you’d never do this. if you loved me, you wouldn’t put me through this!” you shout at her from across the bed, holding your knees against your chest.

but that’s the issue… the fact that she did this to you… that makes her a killer. this is her true nature. she could feel herself getting frustrated as she lets out a laugh while looking over at your cuddled position. “and if you loved me, i wouldn’t have to do this if you wouldn’t tried to leave. anyways, i have places to be and things to do.” she walks over to you about to place a gentle kiss on your cheek but you flinch away from her again and seethed your teeth. “don’t touch me!”

the reaction that you gave amber caused a smile to tug at her lips. she sighs, not wanting to deal with your attitude because she had better yet important things to do. she’ll have to just deal with you later. as she begins to just turn her back on you, amber grabs her mask and shoves her knife inside of her pocket. she starts to walk away as she leaves to go to her car, leaving you stranded and crying all alone on the bedroom while she plans for her next kill.

don’t worry, this is only the beginning….

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

CW: child whumper (sidekick), mentions of previous abuse. (If you find any more CWs I’ve missed, please tell me!)

Villain was feeling great. Todays plan had gone perfectly and now hero’s own sidekick was tied to a chair in front of them. Poor sidekick probably had no idea where they were, Villain smirked.

‘I bet your praying hero is going to show up and save you. I assure you they won’t. They don’t even know where my lair is; besides, do you really think they’ll go through all the effort just to save their stupid little sidekick who got themselves kidnapped?’

Sidekick was shaking. Terrified. Now completely at the villains mercy, their identity was going to be revealed, they just knew it. And then it wouldn’t just be sidekick that will die, but their loved ones too. Hero has told sidekick about villain. Sidekick knew villain was a ruthless killer. Their fear mixed with their guilt for having endangering not only themselves but their friends too. Hero would be so disappointed in sidekick. Villain was right, hero would never bother to save them. It was their own fault that they had messed up and gotten themselves kidnapped.

Villain crouched down and reached out to sidekicks face-

‘Let’s see who’s under this disguise- which I must say, is rather pathetic. Could you not have come up with a better costume for yourself?’, villain joked.

-Sidekick flinched away, but villain swiftly grabbed sidekicks mask and roughly pulled it off their face.

‘I bet you’re-‘,

The villains grin dropped along with their stomach. This was not what they were expecting. Rage shook through villain. Sidekicks face showed nothing but absolute fear.

‘A child. You’re just a child’

Villains face softened as they tried to hide their anger from the kid that sat before them. Hero had sent a child to fight them. A child. How could hero do this? And who was responsible for sidekicks black eye? Villain knew it wasn’t them. Was it hero? When villain got their hands on them-

But that could be dealt with later. Villain needed to focus on the terrified face in front of them.

‘I’m not a child. I’m 15’

‘Who told you that was old? Was it hero? You can’t even drink yet, darling. You’re a child.

And to be clear, I am not going to hurt you. I know hero’s probably told you horrible lies about me, but I can assure you, they’re not true… at least most of them aren’t true. But I would never intentionally hurt a child’

Sidekick was shocked by the softness of villains voice, which was completely different from the roughness it had been filled with 2 seconds ago. It was just an act. It had to be. Sure, hero could be harsh to sidekick, but sidekick deserved it right? Hero was just training sidekick.

‘Are you hungry? Injured? Let me patch you up’

Villain gently brushed sidekicks hair out their face to get a better look at the purple bruises forming on their forehead. Sidekick flinched away from the hand, letting out a small whimper.

That was it. Villain vowed they would destroy hero next time they saw them. But first, they have got to help the poor kid.

————————————————————————————————

This was my first time writing something like this, so any feedback and help would be appreciated. In fact, it think this is the first time I’ve written a story outside an English lesson (which I haven’t done as a subject since GCSE’s) since I wrote a short Harry Potter headcanon when I was 12 lol. I still remember that headcanon tho, and I’m pretty sure it might still be on tumblr somewhere 🫡

[badlydrawn-brostrider]

uhhhhhhhh, i don't know why i have to be the one to give you this because it's weird and you are WEIRDER and also, probably a terrible person? but, you can ask someone else who is not me! anyway since you died or will die in a way that's stupid and lame here is a bed that is just as stupid and lame as you are. ༄

D: . . .

D: . . .

[ He doesn't know if it'll work. You're just a corpse laying in his arms now, though, no harm in trying. ]

[ He lays you down . . . ]

[ Gentle, careful, all while he hopes and prays in a way he never has before. Your body slowly begins to glow and--

TG: this story fucking sucks

TG: we literally just went through this shit, its not "spooky" or "scary"

TG: also why the hell is egbert in your shitty story

TG: kind of a dick move actually to bring up our trauma like this

TG: SOME of us couldnt even god tier man

TG: what the fuck is your problem

TG: yeah what the fuck is your problem

TG/TG: FUCK--

BRO: Where's yer joy? The Halloween spirit? The suspension of disbelief? You shits didn't even let us get to the good part.

BRO: Impatient little brats.

TG: what

TG: the fuck

TG: are you fucking

TG: wearing

BRO: My costume.

BRO: Brought along D's costume too. Don't think I don't see ya runnin'.

D: god fucking dammit

[ Halloween event open!! Ask questions to the . . . prince of breath? ]

@badlydrawn-alphadave <3

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 23 - Don't Hide That Smile

some cute comforting H <3 sorry for being days late my loves

FICTOBER

Patreon

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“Y/N…. Come on.” Harry pleaded. “I think that got a smile out of you, don’t hide it away!”

It did, in fact, get a smile out of her. But the absolute fail of a costume had made her very, very upset at first.

In hindsight, Y/N knew that attempting a full costume as a first sewing project was ambitious to say the least. What was supposed to be a floor length gown ended up looking like a giant tube, the seams wonky and her poor attempt of dying the fabric last minute making the fabric look like it had been a weird bleach accident. It was the night before halloween and they’d had a check in, Harry wanting to see and Y/N bursting into tears when he’d aside to see the finished product. 

To make matters worse, she had pretended she had it all under control. To a fashion student Harry. She’d wanted to impress him, but she had made a fool out of herself and told Harry she was a phony, which he quickly reassured she wasn’t and thought it was cute she wanted to impress him. When he’d asked to see it, if maybe he could help fix it, she assured him he couldn’t, but it still didn’t help when his reaction to the dress had been a wide eyed “Oh….” 

That had sent another bout of tears, making Harry panic at now being the source of them, so he tried to mend his error. 

“I didn’t mean a bad, oh!”

“I mean, I’m shocked but I wasn’t trying to be mean!” 

“It isn’t awful, please don’t cry. 

“Babe, it’s camp… no. It’s French.”

The reference to Fleabag made her crying stop for a moment, trying not to laugh. She still felt like a failure when he gently dragged her hands off of her face and tried to wipe her tears, frowning as he really didn’t like to see Y/N upset. No one would. She looked so sad and heart wrenching when she cried, her eyes rounding and the little pout- no. 

“I-It can’t be saved, Harry. I watched project runway and i thought I could do it cheaper but-but its so hard to sew on the little machine I got and-and fabric is so, so expensive!” That was a fact Harry knew firsthand. No wonder he tries to get thrifted things so often. “I thought helping my grandma when I was younger would have paid off but no. So now I look dumb, I cried in front of you and I’ve got no costume. It’s too late to go gething now, they’re all gonna suck.” She sniffled, making his heart throb when her sad look hit him. 

He couldn’t lie- the dress was bad. Awful. He didn’t know how she overestimated or cut the length so long, or why the ruffles were sewn over each other or how the bodice was crooked, but somehow she had created an atrocity. But it was abstract, if you’d want to think of it that way- and god, he needed to to calm her down. Functionally, the dress was useless, but in a matter of art, anything could be good. 

There was no way he wouldn’t be flattered that she had done this to impress him. It was beyond cute and sweet and he just wanted to squish her cheeks and kiss her little lips but he held it together. “It’s okay, sweets. You aren’t dumb, we’re all set with the crying now, and we can find you a costume. It’s totally okay. We can match…” He tried to think of what else they could be. Their original was prince and princess, but he had to think on his toes. Looking around, he prayed for inspiration and to actually be quick on his feet sometimes- and thankfully it was answered as he looked at her muted TV. 

“Pam and Jim!” he exclaimed. “Yes- you have the things to be the cat, I can do the paper shirt thing. What do you think?” 

Y/N seemed to mull it over, sniffling again as her eyes scanned Harry’s face. That had been quick, but… “That’s a good idea.” She smiled slightly, making him sag with relief. He couldn’t handle seeing her sad. “A-are you sure, though? I know it’s a downgrade from the other costume we planned. I’m sorry.” Y/N really did feel stupid about it but it really didn’t seem like Harry minded.

“Not a big deal, baby. Promise.” His hands smoothed her hair back, smiling lightly down at her. Halloween wasn’t his thing and he had agreed to go to the costume party with her so he’d made his costume, but he was sort of relieved considering his prince outfit could get a bit hot. “All that matters is we’re going to be together and ditch Niall’s as soon as we’re ready eat our body weight in sweets. I ordered that variety bag, y’know?” 

Her eyes lit up at the mention, making her nod. “Does it have Kit-Kats?” She whispered, her grin widening when he nodded back. “Okay. It sounds good to me then.” Her face plastered to Harry’s chest, body sagging in relief. The secret was out, the embarrassment was over, and now she could finally breathe again. Although.. “When he said he was going all out for the pe party.. I just really hope Niall doesn’t get one of those fog machines inside the house. You can’t breathe with that stuff on”

“About that….” Harry hissed, pretending to wince. 

“For fucks sake. Maybe we are ditching super early.” “I’ve got no problem with that.”