#stumbled upon some cash a few days back

[d3stinyist1red]

out of everyone on yandere town, yan cowboy is definitely my favourite <3

YESSS IKR HES SO CUTESYY

yan cowboy who wants you to ride him badly

yan cowboy who first meets you when you stumble upon his farm, literally the cows were gonna jump ur ass until he popped up

"hey there, sweets! What'cha doin' around here?" He asks, looking at you with a tilted head as he pat the cow's head. "U-uh, sorry i just-" you got interrupted by the cowboy laughing at ya.

"ma, why do you seem so nervous? It's alright!" He said grinning down at you, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and introduces himself.

yan cowboy who is now ur buddy, talking to you every second of his fucking day like damn lil bro chill

yan cowboy who you began seeing everyday, coincidences piling up. No matter where you went, he was there, lingering just at the edge of your vision.

yan cowboy who wants you to ride with him and his horse everyday, holding onto your waist as he leads the horse on where to go, your back to his front, slowly rubbing himself against you.

yan cowboy who is a possessive and jealous freak. Any interaction you have with others, specifically other men, makes his jaw clench and his eyes narrow. He might not say anything at first, but you’ll notice how quiet he has gotten.

yan cowboy who confronts you about the man you were hanging out with earliar

"Hey darlin', what was that man tellin' you? Why were you talkin' to him? Do you think hes better than me? Sweets, im sorry. Darlin' lets talk about this, okay?"

"boy i literally just asked him wheres the nearest wingstop"

"why? are you hungry? Because I have some meat for you could eat-"

yan cowboy who makes you the center of his world, if you dont talk to him hes GONNA AND WILL have a bad day, grumpy and pissed off until you talk to him

yan cowboy who has a garden his mother owns, and always gives you flowers, your favorite ones

yan cowboy who literally every woman wants bc hes fine asf, strong, and BRO HES SWEET TOO LIKE HELLO??? but he only needs you. Whenever hes talking with another woman, he always drifts his eyes away from her to try to find you, not paying attention to whatever the woman was saying

yan cowboy who literallys gets so hard whenever he sees you bend down to get some strawberries you planted, already knowing he was gonna fist himself inside his car

yan cowboy who always gives you handwritten notes

"hello n/n! I might not be able to see you today because of my mother telling me ive been slacking off since ive been leaving early from farming. But darling, you know I can't stay away from you for so long! I need to see you! Anyway baby, I left you some cash, treat yourself, aight babes? - Your lovely cowboy <3"

yan cowboy who sees you growing some plants in the hot sun and immediatly panics, he runs over to you with an umbrella. A UMBRELLA BRO

"darlin'! Its so hot out here for you to be outside! Come inside, love!"

"bro ive only been outside for 3 minutes"

"3 minutes too long! Now cmon and rest! Ill do the work, lovely!"

yan cowboy who helps you when you barely started growing plants and stuff, guiding you with his hands ontop of yours, his chin on your shoulder.

yan cowboy who sees you carrying a heavy bale of hay, and immediately scolds you

You wipe the sweat from your brow as you lift the bale of hay, determined to carry your weight on the farm. Your cowboy always helps you with everything like bro i could be independent too hoe. You’ve seen him do this like a thousand times, and you’re confident you can handle it too bc ur a bad bitch period

But before you can take more than a few steps, a shadow falls over you, and you feel a firm hand on your arm. You glance up, and lowkey you were scared it was gonna be schoolboy69 lowkey but nah their infront of you was your cowboy, eyes narrowed in a mix of worry and frustration. He was practically glaring at you, mad that you picked up something without his help, even if you picked up something as heavy as a bag of cookies he would be mad and see red like alpha dawg sigma 4000

“What do you think you’re doin’, darlin’?” His voice is low, but you still heard the irritation in his voice.

“I’m just helping out,” you say, trying to brush it off as no big deal. “It’s just a bale of hay, I'll can handle it.” You said shrugging, about to walk past him until you felt the heavy hay get off your shoulders in a quick manner.

that lil bitch took the hay and walked away but not before blowing u a kiss and saying "i love u n/n, get ready for tonight bc imma need u to blow my back OUT-"

yan cowboy who always is complimenting you, doesnt even matter if your in ur christmas pjs from 2016 he will say "id lowkey eat you out in that"

yan cowboy who is ur obsessed boy who luvs you more than he should<3

yan cowboy who is ur such cowboy who couldnt be more lucky to have you with him! <333

GUYS IM BACK FROM THE DEAD BITCHESSS

GUYS YALL COULD SEND REQUESTS BUT ITS GONNA TAKE A LITTLE BIT BC IM STILL WORKING ON OTHER DRAFTS LIKE THESE

GUYS WHO HAS YAN WINDERBREAKER MANHWA BOOKS PLS I NEED JAY JO AND OWEN

[eddiesghxst]

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACCIÓN - AN EDDIE MUNSON X READER AU

credit for cute lil cut off divider: @cafekitsune

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x pornstar!reader

summary: eddie is short on rent this month and needs quick cash, luckily he stumbles upon an ad for casting in an adult film and finds himself shooting a porno with you

contains: strangers to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, mentions of smoking, awkward situations, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected — be safe pls), mentions of people being judgemental of readers line of work, mentions of anal, slightly exhibitionism, lots of smut, a sliver of mechanic!eddie, and eddie being the charming loser he's always been <3

word count: 13.5k (i am so fucking sorry omg)

-masterlist-

Eddie might be way in over his head.

Eddie’s been naked in front of groups of people before (the high school boy's locker room is a scary place to be, honestly), but never in those awful days of forced physical education was Eddie’s dick the center of everyone’s attention.

It’s weird, no doubt about it, standing at the front of a conference room with a table full of producers and writers and whatnot just… ogling Eddie’s naked frame.

“Can you lift your dick, please? So we can see your balls.”

Yeah. This is definitely going at the top of Eddie’s ‘weird things I’ve done for money’ list.

Still, Eddie reaches down and presses his dick up against his lower stomach to give his audience an unrestricted view of his balls.

Jesus.

“Okay, you can put your clothes back on.”

Honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for Robert, the manager at Eddie’s job— well, old job. 

Robert had some kind of weird fucking vengeance out for Eddie. Maybe it was because Eddie came back high from, like, most of his lunch breaks, but should that really matter if Eddie still got the job done? How coherent do you have to be to organize music records by name? Not very fuckin’ much.

Robert disagreed, though, so he fired Eddie.

Robert was an asshole, though, and whenever Eddie would nicely warn him, ‘Hey, Rob, I’m gonna be out of town next Saturday,’ Robert would still fucking schedule him to close on that exact day! 

Good riddance.

Except now, Eddie’s short on rent for the month, which is why he’s found himself standing fully naked in a room full of adult filmmakers.

Eddie’s almost dropped out of this deal ten times by now. He wasn’t sure if he was keen on the idea of his bare, naked body being out for the entire world and future generations to see. But then Eddie thought about it, and, well, he’s got a pretty decent cock. It’s an average size, and it’s not weird looking or anything, and his balls don’t sag— and, like, isn’t his dick primarily the star of the show? Eddie Jr. could pass for a star, Eddie thinks, and so do the people looking at it right now. 

And he also really fucking needs the money, so. Porn it is.

Whatever.

Eddie could deal with it as long as he gets enough money to keep a roof over his head. Which reminds him— “Hey, uh, how much will I be getting paid, by the way?”

Eddie’s now fully clothed, car keys in hand, and ready to go now that he’s been dismissed, and he’s scratching the back of his neck as he waits for an answer.

One of the men at the table (Eddie thinks his name is Brian, but he’s not 100% sure) glances up at Eddie from the pile of papers he’d been sorting through, “Eight hundred for the booking and ten percent from the sales.”

Which, yeah, that covers Eddie’s rent. It also leaves a little bit of change in Eddie’s pocket, so “Sweet.” Eddie nods.

So, Eddie follows one of the assistants to her office, where she hands Eddie a file with the word SCRIPT written in bold and red letters, “Read over it, practice the lines a few times, do whatever you need to do to prepare for Friday.” She kindly smiles.

She’s sweet. Short, stout, and pretty, and she has these cute glasses that remind Eddie of a ladybug. Eddie takes the manila folder, bowing his head with a cheesy smile, “Thank you, Emily.” 

“So, will I be getting a costume? Do pornos still have those dramatic plots with, like, pirates and shit?” Eddie rambles as he cracks the folder open to take a gander.

Emily snorts, “Sure, but unfortunately, you’re not a pirate for this one,” Eddie glances at her and dramatically pouts, “You will be taking on the role of a neighbor. Pretty simple and easy, not much setup needed, but I’m sure you’ll see that when you read over the script.”

Eddie looked over the script as soon as he got in his van, and Emily was right: there’s not much setup at all. There’s a few cheesy lines, cliche porno shit that definitely gets skipped over, and then they go straight to fucking. Eddie tries to run his lines a few times, but then he fails miserably, so he ends up tossing the script in his passenger seat and making a mental note to look at it later.

How hard can it be?

Apparently pretty fucking hard.

It’s Friday, and Eddie’s a chaotic mess as he walks in through the doors of the film studio. He’d just spent the last 30 minutes in his van trying to practice his lines, but Eddie was never the greatest theater kid, and the lines wouldn’t stick, so he ended up smoking a joint to ease his nerves.

People are bustling around the room, calling out orders and setting up lights, mics, furniture— the whole mile. It’s an entire ordeal that Eddie has walked into, and for a second, Eddie forgets that he’s one of the actual stars when someone walks up to him and says, “You're the new talent?”

“Huh?”

“New talent. Are you the guy we’re filming today?”

Eddie glances around and catches a glimpse of a half-naked girl eyeing him from across the room as a lady fixes her hair for the cameraman. She’s pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Nice body and soft-looking skin that Eddie would like to sink his teeth into and leave pretty little marks.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m Eddie.”

“Good. You’re late.”

Shit. Eddie must’ve lost track of time while practically hacking up a lung in his hotboxed van.

The person drags Eddie to a vanity and nudges him toward the high chair, “You’ll get your hair and makeup done, then we should be rolling in about half an hour.” 

It’s jarring, really, seeing the amount of work that goes into the shitty raunchy films Eddie jacks off to, but it’s captivating nonetheless. Eddie can see the movement behind him through the vanity mirror, but he’s more focused on the pretty girl still posing for the camera. If that’s the girl Eddie will be working with, then this will be way easier than Eddie thought it would be because he’s already getting hard. Some might call it pathetic, but oh well.

“Hiya, hon! You the new talent?” A chirpy girl walks up behind Eddie, pearly white teeth and glossed lips working in tandem as she chews her gum and blows a quick bubble. She doesn’t wait for Eddie’s response as she digs her fingers into Eddie’s curly strands, tossing and gently pulling them about to see what she’s working with. 

Her name is Nicki. She’s friendly and very talkative; Eddie comes to learn, because for the majority of the time that she’s working on Eddie’s hair, her mouth is running nonstop. Eddie doesn’t mind, though; honestly, it helps to take his mind off of whatever the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

Emily, the assistant from earlier, walks up to the vanity, her cute ladybug glasses slipping down her nose as she steps into Eddie’s view— and Eddie is happy to see a familiar and kind face. “Will you be needing a fluffer?”

Eddie blinks, eyes fluttering when the hairstylist dusts his bangs over his lashes, “Uh— a what now?”

Nicki loudly pops her gum as she shakes a can of hairspray, “A fluffer, honey. Someone to jack you off and get you ready for the scene.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened for a split second, and he made the mistake of glancing over at the girl who was still modeling across the room. Her tits are out now, and they’re perfect, and she catches Eddie’s eyes for the second time, and it makes his already stiffened cock stir within his pants.

Eddie shakes his head as he looks back at Emily, his voice higher when he responds, “No, I uh… I think I’m good.”

Which, duh. Eddie's dick is practically breaking the seams of his jeans because of the pretty girl, and it’s only getting worse because now she’s walking toward him dressed in a white robe. “You must be Eddie.”

Eddie’s surprised you know his name, but then he figures, obviously, you must know his name given the fact that you’re about to let him swing his dick near you. “That’s me,” Eddie smiles, “You must be… I’m sorry nobody’s told me anything.” He awkwardly laughs.

You nod with a shrug and tell him your name, “Is this your first time filming?” You ask.

Eddie nods, “Is it that obvious?” He nervously asks. You shrug, “Most guys in the industry need more than a pair of tits to get that hard.” You nod towards Eddie’s crotch— and oh god. How embarrassing! She knows you were checking her out!

“No need to be embarrassed though, Eddie. Pretty soon, you’ll be shoving your cock down my throat, so.”

Eddie’s cock may have gotten harder from those words alone.

“A rookie? Seriously, Don?”

Your makeup is being done, so you don’t see how your manager rolls her eyes at you. “When I said I wanted someone fresh, I didn’t mean never-been-under-the-camera fresh.” 

The makeup artist finishes with your touch-ups, and you take the opportunity to turn to Don and glare at her, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Don.”

The older lady waves a dismissive hand, “He’ll do just fine, babe,” she deadpans. You shake your head, turning to look at the man of the hour. He’s attractive; you’ll give him that. Tall, pretty curly hair, sweet brown eyes, a panty-dropping voice. Sure, he’s attractive, okay. But he’s got no clue how to do this type of thing. Clearly— I mean, you’re literally watching him gaze down at the dildos that have been lined up for you as if he’s never seen one in his life— which you doubt. If he knew how to find an adult filmmaking studio, then he’s definitely seen some fucking dildos.

You suppress a laugh when he accidentally drops a glass dildo, turning back to your manager as you ignore his chorus of apologies to the staff, “My case in point.”

Don fails to hold back a laugh, “So he’s a little off the walls,” she shrugs, “He’s cute though. And his dick is nice. Trust me.”

And, well, she’s not wrong.

Don’s never been one to lie without reason, so unfortunately, Eddie’s cock is nice. Pretty, even. Which is weird because after some time being in this industry, the thrill of a nice-looking cock has gotten lost on you because they practically all look the same— just different shades of colors, really.

But Eddie’s cock is nice in the sense that it’s real. He’s not shot up with steroids to make it overly veiny and big or cleanly shaved or any of that superficial camera-ready shit. No, Eddie is natural. He’s got neatly trimmed curly hairs across his pelvis that smell like his body wash when you nuzzle your nose against it, and he’s big enough to wrap your hand around, but you know the second he pushes inside of you, it will be a nice stretch. He’s cut, and he has a slight curve to the left, and he’s so sensitive his cock jumps when you tap the pearly white drop that leaks from his tip. You giggle, shuffling forward on your knees as you stroke him.

You’re already done with the opening scene, finally. Eddie couldn’t remember any of his lines, so it took a lot longer than it should’ve, but you think it was worth it either way because the way Eddie moans when you finally wrap your lips around his tip is the prettiest sound you think you’ve ever heard.

“F-fuck,” He quietly curses, hips shifting as you swallow more of him. He sinks a slightly shaking hand into your hair, gently cupping your head as you work your mouth over him. Your eyes flutter to gaze up at him, and your stomach flutters at the cocky grin he gives you. “You’ve got such a good little mouth on you, sweetheart. Gonna let me fuck it?”

You hum and nod as best as you can with his cock in your mouth, and he hums, “Open up for me, baby.”

You shift on your knees, finding a comfortable position for the action before blinking up at Eddie, indicating you’re ready. Eddie’s hands are steady and certain as he cups both sides of your head, holding you still as he draws his cock out once before slowly thrusting in until your throat tightens around his tip.

He fills your mouth so perfectly, just enough to where you won’t get bored, but you also won’t get an overly aching jaw, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. Can’t wait to feel how his cock twitches when he first nestles deep in your walls or how much better the sounds he makes will be.

It’s a nice feeling, having Eddie fuck your mouth, and you usually don’t care much for shots like this because most of the time, it’s either underwhelming or overwhelming, but Eddie fucks your throat in a sense that’s dirty yet so caring. He’s spewing out filthy praises, and you're drooling onto his balls, but he’s looking at you with these soft brown eyes and caressing you so gently you might quiver. Fuck, you really wanted to hate him.

Behind the camera, the director makes a motion for you to cut to the next action, but since your back is to them, Eddie is the one that sees it and gently coaxes you off from his cock, cooing when you let out the smallest whine that only he can hear. He smiles, thumb running beneath your swollen lip to catch the strings of spit and cum, “What? You liked having me down your throat, sweet girl?”

You mewl, pressing your chin into his palm as you nod.

"Yeah. Want it, please?" You whisper. God, you didn’t expect to be fucked out within the first scene. "Aw, maybe next time, princess. You can keep me warm as long as you'd like."

It’s almost embarrassing, how much you like the sound of that and how it makes your tummy flip, but you don’t have much time to think about it because Eddie’s ushering you up from the floor to climb onto the couch and straddle his lap. 

You’re both bare now, and when Eddie had first taken his shirt off, you wanted nothing more than to run your hands down his graffitied chest, but you were too busy sinking to your knees. But now you have the chance, and boy, do you fucking take it.

You marvel as you coast your hands across Eddie’s body, fingertips gliding through fields of inked stories and vast skin. His breath hitches when you graze over his nipples, and his hips shift beneath you, wet cock slipping against your sticky folds. You whimper, grinding down onto him, and he curses as he grabs ahold of your hips. “Y’like them?” He sweetly asks, referring to his tattoos.

"Yeah," you nod, grinding down harder to have his cock nestled between your folds, his ruddy tip nudging your clit. “I can tell you all about them if you want.”

You giggle at his timing, but before you can respond, a director speaks up from the side, “Less talking, please.”

Eddie glances over your shoulder and salutes the man, “Roger that, sir.”

You can’t help but snort at his actions, but you’re quickly hushed when Eddie reaches down to paint his cock between your folds before lining himself up, “Go ahead and sit on it, baby.” He whispers.

You listen, nuzzling your face against his shoulder as you wriggle yourself down the length of his cock.

And god, you love being fucking right. The stretch is so good, better than you had imagined it to be, and you can’t help the high-pitched moan that slips from your lips when Eddie thrusts up into you. 

"O-oh. Oh fuck," You whimper. You’re practically boneless as Eddie fucks you, your entire body just draped over him as his hands dig into your ass to help bounce you on his cock. “Jesus fucking— you feel so good,” He pants, and you mewl, cunt clenching around his cock as he drills up into you. “You gonna cum for me, hm? Be my best girl and cum for me. I know you’ll sound so pretty.” He whispers.

Before you know it, you’re moaning out and writhing in Eddie’s hold, juices dripping down his cock and forming a sticky mess in the patch of curls at his base as you cum.

“Let’s have a shot from the back.” 

Your body feels weightless as you and Eddie change positions so you’re on all fours. You’re blinking through a hazy fog, and it feels so good. Eddie’s hands send chills up your spine as they grip your waist and tug you towards him. 

“Oh, baby, you’re shaking,” Eddie hums, running his hands over the fat of your ass, thumbs digging into the skin to spread you open. You’re so wet you can hear the sticky noise of your folds parting, and Eddie groans as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. “You open up so well for me, sweet girl.” 

Jesus.

You don’t get much of a warning before you feel Eddie lapping and sucking at your cunt, devouring you until you’re nothing but a mess of moans and quivering limbs.

Jesus Christ, that wasn’t in the fucking script. Half of the shit Eddie’s doing isn’t in the fucking script, and it's making your head spin.

God, who is this man?

You whimper his name, reaching a shaky hand back to grapple at his hair, and Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into your cunt, nose nudging your ass in a way that makes your toes curl. He’s good. He’s really good, you’ll give him that.

You and Eddie go at it for about an hour, switching positions and pausing every now and then to get a good shot of your cunt wrapped around Eddie’s cock, or Eddie’s tongue lapping over your clit or tits.

And it's fun doing this with Eddie.

Eddie is like a breath of fresh air. Most guys in this industry are stuck up and make things annoyingly serious, and most girls are either bitchy or just want to get it over with, which you don’t blame them for. 

But Eddie makes things feel so normal— like you’re just two best friends getting filmed having sex— because he keeps whispering tiny jokes to make you giggle. He tells you how pretty you sound and look, and he’s so incredibly clueless because he keeps leaning in and asking things like, “Is this, like, a good angle for the camera?” and “Should I maybe kiss you more?” and “Is it okay if I stop fucking you for a second? Because I’m about to blow.”

And all you can do is breathlessly moan and nod because he’s plunging himself so deep into you that it almost hurts, but it’s so good.

You’re so fucked out you barely even register Eddie’s words when he tells you he’s about to cum, but your body immediately reacts when he pats your hip, indicating for you to get ready.

You scramble down from the couch, limbs weighted from pleasure as you settle on your knees, batting your lashes up at Eddie as he towers over you, stroking his wet cock. Eddie rests a hand on your head, fingers grasping your hair to keep you still as he gazes down at you. You’re impatient, so you can’t help but let yourself sneakily lick the tip of his cock, and he grins, “It’s coming, precious girl. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You shuffle closer, sticking your tongue out as you eagerly await the taste of Eddie on your tongue— and when you get it, god, you never want it to stop. Everything about it is perfect: the way his face twists up, the way he tastes, the pretty moans he lets out. You want it on repeat.

You might buy this film just to relive it.

You take every last drop Eddie has to give you with a happy hum; a little bit catches your lip, and Eddie swipes it with his thumb before bringing it to his mouth and suckling. You whine, frowning and causing Eddie to laugh, “You got most of it, sweetheart. Can’t be too greedy, can you?”

It’s like you’re both in your own world. Only talking to each other and enjoying each other's bodies because Eddie just… it’s weird, but he makes the room go away. He makes things feel less performative— and maybe it’s just your hazy, blissed-out state of mind, but you think you might like Eddie.

You’re snapped from your trance when the director yells cut, and then everyone’s springing into action to tear down the set because another crew will be using it next. Eddie helps you stand on your wobbly legs, “You alright?”

You nod, “Great. You did good, by the way.”

Eddie leans forward and grabs your robe that had been pushed to the side. He smiles as he holds it open for you, “Thank you. You did pretty awesome yourself.” He responds as you slink your arms through the sleeves.

You turn to Eddie as you close your robe and tie it shut. Your assistant, Emily, hands Eddie a robe for himself, and he thanks her, curtly bowing his head as he grabs the plush article. “So,” Eddie starts as he slips on the robe. You both start walking towards the dressing rooms as he speaks, “Think I could make a career for myself here?” He asks. 

You halt at that, turning to Eddie with a confused look, “Is that… is that not why you’re here?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head as he ties his robe, “Nah, I got fired from my job. Needed some cash for rent this month.” He explains.

Is it selfish to say you’re disappointed to hear this? If Eddie had been wanting to join this industry, you would’ve had the opportunity to work with him again. But maybe it’s more selfish to say you’re happy he isn’t joining this industry. Eddie becoming an adult film star would mean half of the time, he’d be fucking other people, and unfortunately, that idea alone makes your gut twist with jealousy.

You nod, pursing your lips as you fiddle with your fingers, “Well… would you be interested in this type of thing?” You try your best to sound casual about it, and you think it works because Eddie only shrugs again with a short hum, “I don’t know. Wouldn’t be opposed to it, I guess.”

Before you can respond, Emily calls your name, “Don needs to speak with you in the other room about your next shoot.”

You turn back to Eddie and try to commit his pretty brown eyes to memory, “I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie.” You smile. Eddie smiles back and does somewhat of a dramatic bow, and you snort as you walk off.

You glance over your shoulder as you walk with Emily.

“Could you do me a favor?” You ask her. Emily nods, and you take one last glance at Eddie before he disappears into the dressing room. 

“Get his number for me. And leave it in my purse, please.”

A couple of weeks have passed since Eddie made his big debut in the film world.

Eddie made a pretty penny from that film, enough to pay his rent and have some play money on the side. Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have to scramble for cash this month again because he got a job at the mechanic shop downtown. It’s a lot of labor and a lot of hours, but the pay is good, and nobody gives a shit if Eddie comes back from lunch smelling like a dispensary, so.

Suck that, Robert.

However, Eddie’s still thoroughly surprised to see you sitting in the shop office when he returns from a quick smoke break. “Woah, funny seeing you here. Car problems?” He questions. Eddie tries not to think about the fact that he’s seen you completely bare before. Tries not to think of how he’d spent over an hour in your guts last month or how you swallowed his load like it was nothing. Eddie fails miserably.

You shake your head as you stand up from the leather couch in the office, grabbing your purse as Eddie walks closer to you, “No, actually, Lola’s doing great.”

Eddie cocks his head, “Lola?”

You nod, “My car.” You gesture out towards the window where your car is parked. Eddie makes an understanding noise as he nods. 

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.” 

Eddie pauses at that, confusion settling over his body as he looks at you. You’re beautiful, kind, soft eyes with soft, pretty lips that Eddie thinks about kissing when he goes to bed. Eddie points to himself with raised eyebrows, “Me?”

You nod again, “Yeah, about like… my job and stuff.”

Oh.

Ohhhh.

“Oh, shit, yeah, um,” Eddie glances around the office and nods, “Yeah, we can step out and talk, like, in my van, maybe?” He offers. Not because he’s, like, ashamed to talk about porn or something, most people watch it! But a few of the guys that work here are downright dipshits, and Eddie won’t hesitate to punch one of them if they say some sly shit about you or your job. And, well, Eddie would like to keep his job, so.

You don’t take offense to it, though; you just nod with your pretty smile and tell Eddie to lead the way.

Eddie’s van smells like weed, cologne, and a hint of whatever he had for lunch.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles as he clears off the passenger seat that’s filled with bottles of different drinks, rolling papers, food wrappers, and things of the like. “She’s seen better days.” 

You smile nonetheless, thanking him when he steps away and holds the door open for you. You hop into the seat, glancing around as Eddie shuts your door and jogs to the driver's seat.

He gets in with a heavy sigh, hair unruly from the wind, brown eyes wide and excited when he looks at you. “Hey.” He huffs with a smile, and there’s a piece of hair in Eddie’s bangs that’s sticking straight up. “Hey.” You giggle, reaching out to fix the rebellious strand. Eddie softly thanks you, and you swear you see a hint of pink dust across his cheeks.

He shifts in his seat, rubbing his hands against his thighs as he sighs again, “So… what’s up?”

God, he’s so cute. So incredibly weird and awkward and cute. He looks handsome in his navy blue coveralls, grease stains smeared across his torso, and some sneaky smudges on his neck. “You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know?” You tease.

Eddie’s face twists in confusion, “Huh?”

You shrug, distracting yourself by poking around at his dashboard, sifting through the CDs and tapes he has lying about. Eddie doesn’t stop you; he only watches, and you give him a cheeky smile. “My assistant got your number, right? But then you, like, never answered my calls.” You shrug as you flip through more of his things. You hear Eddie mumble something about needing a new cord for his home phone before he asks louder, " So, how’d you find me?”

God, he must think you’re a stalker or something. You didn’t really think that through, honestly.

You hum, “Just asked around a bit. You’re a bit of a hot commodity around here, by the way. Heard you started a cult? What’s that about?” 

Eddie’s eyes widen at your words, and you laugh, “Oh god. Jesus, no, I didn’t start a cult. I just,” he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, “I was just weird in high school.”

“You’re still weird.”

Eddie’s face falters at your words, but you smile as you add, “I like it.”

Eddie blushes again, but he turns to look away this time, and you think he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever set your eyes upon. He turns back to you with a shy grin, “Did you come here just to flirt with me?” He teases, wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger to twirl in a shy manner. “Maybe… but I also have a question.” You respond.

Eddie nods, “Shoot.”

You take a deep breath as you shift in your seat, “Well, uh, I wanted to ask if you maybe…” You glance at Eddie, who's expectantly awaiting your question, and your stomach twists with nerves. Why are you so nervous to ask Eddie for something you’ve already done before?

“Well, I’m doing a shoot tomorrow,” you finally begin, “And I just found out the guy they paired me with is, like, a total asshole— I’ve worked with him before, he’s just… awful,” You explain. “So, I was just… I don’t know; I was just wondering— hoping— you’d be up for it, maybe? To take the guy's place, I mean.”

You finish rambling and glance at Eddie as his eyes widen, “Oh, um. Like— like, film with you again?”

Eddie could leap for joy right now.

Not only are you, like, the cutest, prettiest, kindest fucking human being to ever grace this earth, but you’re sitting in Eddie’s van, chewing on your lip and asking Eddie to fuck you for the cameras again.

Eddie must’ve done something incredibly right in his past life.

“Oh!” Eddie starts, “ Um… yeah, I’d love to!” What? Weird, take that back. “No, I mean, like, not in a weird way. I just— I’d rather not let the asshole do it if I can do it.”

God, could Eddie sound any more pathetic?

Still, despite how dumb Eddie sounds, you smile and clasp your hands together, “Oh, are you sure? I know it’s last minute, and it’s not really the ideal task—” 

“Woah, wait. What do you mean not the ideal task?” 

Because literally, what do you mean? How could that not be the ideal task? And who made you think that fucking you isn’t the ideal task? If it’s that asshole you were supposed to work with, then Eddie has a few colorful things to say about and to him.

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers in your lap, “Nothing, I just know my job isn’t… you know, traditional or whatever. And you had only done it that one time because you needed it, so I get it if you’re, like, not in the mood to fuck on camera for a bunch of random people.” You ramble. Which, uh, no. You could not be further from the truth. Eddie would love to fuck you on camera for a bunch of random people. Hell, Eddie would love to fuck you under any consensual circumstance, if he’s being honest, so. Yeah, he’s pretty excited.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “No, I— I want to, really, I do.” Eddie nods.

Your unsure frown spreads into the prettiest smile before you reach across the center console to pull Eddie into the most bone-crushing, you-scented, chest-warming hug Eddie’s ever been given as you spew out a chorus of thank yous.

“I brought a copy of the script for you to look over so you’re not totally confused,” Eddie watches as you pull back to reach into your bag and pull out a manilla folder. “I usually like to color coordinate my scripts, so I did it for you too. The pink is me, and the red is you, and the specific actions they want us to do are in blue.” You point out. And Eddie thinks he might kiss you right now— you’re so fucking cute!

“Wow, thanks, um… I wish I were, like… good with these types of things, but I think you saw how majestic I am with scripts.” Eddie huffs out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. You smile, “I can help you— if you’d like.”

Oh, you’re trying to kill Eddie at this rate.

Eddie nods either way, even though he’s six feet underground and knocking at the fiery gates. “I would love that, actually. I finish work in about three hours if you’re free.”

Eddie definitely broke a handful of laws while driving home.

Since you offered to help Eddie with his lines, you both decided to meet at Eddie’s place. He gave you his address, told you how to get into the complex, and said see you later. Now, Eddie is ecstatic to see you, obviously, but Eddie can’t remember if his home looked normal or like a Walmart clearance aisle after black Friday, so he ran through multiple stop signs and red lights to get home before you showed up so he could clear things up.

He’s hustling through his apartment like a madman, picking up strewn clothes and cat toys before speeding through the few dishes he had in his sink. Honestly, Eddie’s apartment has seen worse days, so there’s not much cleaning he has to do, but he’s still stressed when he hears a knock on the door. 

Eddie doesn’t even like candles, but he lit one just in case there’s a smell he’s grown used to lingering about. Eddie just doesn’t want you to think he’s a slob. Because he isn’t. He just has an orchestrated chaotic lifestyle.

Eddie couldn’t be happier when he opened his door because there you were, beaming with a smile and a bag of takeout, and Eddie thought it wasn’t normal to be this soft for someone you’d basically just met.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Eddie dramatically bows with an extended hand to show the entrance of his small, homey apartment. You smile as you walk in, taking in your surroundings.

It’s nothing extraordinary, honestly. Eddie’s home is really just vomit of everything Eddie likes: favorite colors, favorite movies, favorite game characters, etc. It’s like Eddie’s brain exploded and painted itself all over the place. Eddie had a girlfriend many moons ago, and she changed things around to become more coordinated, so now it’s less of a shit show and more of an abstract museum sort of thing.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway because you’re gasping and picking up the little roommate Eddie has. 

“Who’s this?” You coo at the little creature. You’re looking down at the furball as you scratch behind her ear, “That,” Eddie sighs, “Is the reason why I didn’t get your calls.”

You look up at Eddie, confusion written across your face. Eddie points across the room to the wall where his home phone hangs, except the wire is broken. “Little asshole chewed through the wire, and I’ve been slow to replace it. Her name is Banshee.”

The cat meows at the mention of her name, wide eyes blinking up at Eddie as you coddle her. She’s a fluffy cat with a black coat decorated with two white spots: one on her back and the other just behind her ear.

You hum, “So technically,” You drag, “It’s your fault.” You tease. You coo as you press your cheek to the tiny kitten, gazing up at Eddie with these soft eyes, “I don’t think you can blame this cutie for your laziness.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, wills away whatever power he has to not kiss you, and gently takes the takeout bag from your hands so you have less to carry. “Fine then. Ask her what happened to the laces of my work shoes, too, since she’s so innocent.”

Eddie’s home is so… Eddie.

He’s got music and horror movie posters framed along his walls, cute little scary figurines randomly placed within his bookshelves, and there’s an overall smell of Eddie’s musk and the sandalwood candle he has burning. It’s cozy, a nice space for one person who enjoys their alone time, and he let you choose a record to play from his extensive collection, and he has the world's cutest little cat, so it’s safe to say you could spend an eternity in Eddie’s world.

“Shit, that wasn’t my line,” Eddie stresses. You smile as Eddie tosses the packet onto his coffee table and falls back onto the couch, “We’re wasting our time here, princess. I dropped out of theater for a reason.” He grumbles.

You sigh, tilting your head against the couch cushion as you gaze at Eddie, “You’re thinking too hard about it.” You say. “It’s a porno, not a Grammy-nominated film.” You point out.

Eddie snorts before giving a short shrug, “For the record, I think you could land a Grammy, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, right. You don’t need to suck up to me, Eddie, you’re already gonna fuck me tomorrow.” You jokingly say.

Eddie waves you off and shifts into a more comfortable position. “So,” He starts, “What’s the asshole guy's deal?” 

Banshee has hopped onto the couch and made her way into your lap, tiny paws kneading the material of your jeans as she settles. You gently pet her as you glance at Eddie and shrug, “Not sure, he’s just a total dick,” You grumble. “I worked with him once last year, and he, like, told me I wasn’t the best or whatever— which, okay, I can totally understand,” You ramble, “I don’t think I’m, like, some sex god. I don’t expect to be everyone or anyone’s best fuck, but still! It just… it didn’t make me feel good, the way he said it.” You windedly explain. You distract yourself with the cute animal in your lap as you finish your explanation, “So, I asked my manager never to pair us again, but—” You shrug.

Next to you, Eddie shifts once more and scoffs. “He’s a fucking shitfaced liar, princess.”

You snort, playfully rolling your eyes, “Eddie—” “No, I’m serious. He’s a liar. Anybody who even gets the chance to touch you is a lucky fucker, okay? If anything, he probably begged your manager to let him work with you again.”

“You’re just saying that. I don’t need you to try and make me feel better, and it was so long ago anyway.” “Yeah, but that’s the thing, I’m not.”

You frown as you gaze over at Eddie, watching as he sits straight and looks at you with a serious gaze in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s up with that guy, maybe he was dropped as a baby too many times, but anybody with common sense and a properly functioning dick knows just how fucking amazing you are. End of discussion.”

And well, it’s pathetic how your chest warms at his words, but it does. And as Eddie goes on to ramble about his hectic week at work, you can’t help but let your mind spin with Eddie’s kind words until nothing is in your mind but the echoes of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Not many times has Eddie woken up with a girl in his home. Well, at least not a girl that he’s actually liked for more than a one-night stand or a shortly-lived fling.

After running the script for the last time, Eddie suggested putting on a movie and digging into the takeout you’d brought. The meal was delicious, and the movie you’d landed on was hilarious, but it’s hard to keep your eyes open on a full stomach, so when Eddie felt your head drop onto his shoulder, he couldn’t help but let his body sink into the couch and fall asleep too.

You’d woken up about an hour later and tried to make your escape quietly, but Eddie insisted you shouldn’t drive in such a sleepy state, so he let you make yourself comfy in his bed. Banshee, the little traitor, trotted right behind you and left Eddie on the couch to snuggle up beside you for the night.

You’re cute in the morning, Eddie thinks. You have an adorable little pout, and you yawn about 80 times until you’ve had a sip of coffee. 

It takes nearly a lifetime to drag you away from Banshee so you and Eddie can head to the studio because you adore the little asshole, and Banshee loves anything that’ll give her the time of day. You make Eddie promise to let you see her again, though, so you sadly say goodbye with a soft peck to the fluffy area between her eyes and let Eddie drag you to his van.

The car ride is nice; Eddie lets you mess around with the contents of his van and go through the stack of CDs he’s compiled over the years. You land on one of Eddie’s favorites, an old mixtape Wayne made in college that Eddie spent most of his high school blaring loud enough to blow out a speaker.

Today, you’re shooting in a house— a nice one that Eddie could only conjure up in his dreams—but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s being dragged over to makeup and hair as soon as he steps in.

“You thinking of joining the industry?” Nicki asks as she works a nice-smelling mousse into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie had been busy watching you talk to one of the producers, but he finds the strength to tear his eyes away and gaze at Nicki through the vanity mirror. “No, not exactly. Just… doing a favor for a friend, I guess.”

Nicki raises an eyebrow, “A friend? Don’t act like I didn’t see you two come in together.”

Eddie’s face warms at that, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters, “Huh?” 

Nicki looks at Eddie with a ‘Don’t bullshit me’ look.

“I mean, like, yeah, we had breakfast together–” “Mhm.”

Eddie huffs out a gentle laugh, “No, really, we’re friends.”

“Friends that fuck on camera and look at each other the way you two do? Sure.”

Eddie doesn’t ask what Nicki means by that because— well, he knows what Nicki means by that. He’s caught himself looking at you like you put the stars in the sky one too many times, and it’s almost embarrassing. Almost.

But can you blame Eddie? Can you really blame him when you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, the softest smile, the greatest laugh, and the sweetest personality? It’s not Eddie’s fault that you’re perfect.

Eddie just thinks you’re neat. 

He thinks you’re amazing, actually, and it’s hard to remember his fucking lines when you’re standing under a steaming shower, wet body glistening and pebbled nipples practically begging for his mouth.

He’s butchering the script, that’s for sure, but he figures it’s not too bad since nobody’s corrected him. 

The scene starts with you taking a shower and Eddie being a peeping tom, which ultimately leads to Eddie sinking to his knees and licking into you until you’re a quivering, sticky mess on his tongue. Eddie would spend forever on his knees, between your legs, if he could because you taste heavenly and sound better than any song Eddie’s ever listened to, and that says something.

Your fingers thread through the wet strands of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie rapidly blinks when he gazes up at you, only to get an eyeful of his wispy bangs. You smile, petting back his bangs so he can see, and he hums, nudging his face further against you, his tongue teasing more, fingers curling deeper.

It doesn’t take long to make you cum, and the second you do, Eddie is standing up, shutting off the shower, and ushering you out into the expansive main bathroom. It’s almost as if it’s just Eddie and you in the room. No cameras, no directors or producers, or that weird pervy lighting guy that compliments you way too fucking much for Eddie’s liking. It’s just you and Eddie.

“Let’s do an over-the-counter shot next.”

Fuck. It’s not just you two, actually.

What a buzz kill.

Either way, Eddie finds himself pressing your wet, naked waist down against the sink, smiling when you squeal at the cold marble touching your skin. “Stick your ass out, baby, let me see that gorgeous ass.” 

You mewl as you follow Eddie’s instructions, tipping your hips back to present yourself to him and the cameras. You’re dripping. Swollen and wet and throbbing, and Eddie— god, Eddie feels like a fucking animal.

“Got such a pretty pussy, honey. All wet and ready for me, hm?” He teases, gently running his fingers through the sticky arousal between your legs. You shakily breathe as you nod your head, “Yeah. All for you. Please.”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing his cock and painting it between your swollen lips as he hooks his other arm across your shoulders, pulling you back to press against his chest. He presses a wet kiss to the skin of your cheek in front of your ear, voice dry and needy as he whispers in your ear, “You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” His eyes catch yours in the mirror as you keen. “Ask me to fuck you.”

You whimper out loud, wriggling your hips back into his as your hands grip the counter, “P-please fuck me. Please. Need it so bad, want your cock so bad I— o-oh.”

The slide to home base is fucking otherworldly. It was life-changing the first time, and it’s life-changing now, and if Eddie ever gets the chance to fuck you again, he knows it’ll be life-changing then.

You’re so warm, and you're sucking Eddie’s cock in so nicely, so sinfully, that Eddie almost makes a deal with the devil right then and there. Your chest is heaving by the time Eddie’s pelvis presses to your bum, his cock nestled deep into your pulsing cunt. Eddie leans forward, pressing his chest against your back as he loops an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight to him as he gives one slow thrust. He coos when your eyes flutter shut, and your jaw drops, a shaky hand reaching up to sink your nails into Eddie’s forearm.

“S-so deep,” You slur, wriggling your hips back against Eddie.

Eddie grunts, “Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Always so warm and ready for me, hm?” Eddie’s lips are wet against your jaw as he whispers into your ear, and you nod with a mewl.

Eddie works up the pace relatively fast in favor of the cameras, and at some point, he reaches down to grip the thick of your thigh and haul your leg up to rest on the counter so you’re spread open even more. The angle makes it easier for him to catch your spot, and it’s better for the camera to capture the sight of your soaking pussy wrapped around Eddie’s cock, dribbling onto both of your thighs and creating a sticky ring of arousal at the base of Eddie’s dick.

Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your throat when you begin twitching around him, mumbling promises of your climax, and Eddie doesn’t waste time in sinking his hand between your legs to help you reach the edge quicker. Your moans fall silent, eyes squeezed shut, and jaw dropped wide open as Eddie fucks you through your orgasm— and fuck, you feel so good. Squeezing and pulsing and dripping around Eddie’s thighs, throat vibrating beneath his palm when air comes back to you.

“There we go, baby. Get it all out, push it out, honey.” Eddie encourages you.

You’re shaking, trembling like a leaf in Eddie’s arms, and Eddie wants to spend forever tucked into your pussy, warm skin sticky against him, pretty little whines and mewls coating his brain in this cutesy pink fog that makes him want to fucking marry you.

Get you a home, give you his babies, maybe even get you a fucking dog and just live happily goddamn ever.

Jesus, Eddie’s a goner.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Eddie pulls out last second, jerking himself off between your cute ass cheeks until he’s spurting white ropes of cum up your back.

Eddie, ever the considerate man he is, pushes your hair out of the way to avoid getting any of his sticky release in it. You’re breathing heavily, pretty eyes glazed over as you glance back at Eddie, a shy glint in your eyes at the sight of your skin painted in his cum.

Eddie’s obsessed with you now, no doubt.

His ringed fingers slide through the sticky mess on your skin as he grips your ass cheeks, gently spreading them apart and humming when you arch your back, proudly swaying your ass in front of him. The sight makes Eddie dizzy; pools of cum dripping down your back to slink its way through your ass and over your sticky folds. “You’ve got such a cute little hole, baby.” Eddie compliments, taking his thumb and smearing his cum over the puckered muscle, softly laughing when you whine. 

He lightly slaps your ass then, reaching forward to gently grasp your face with his messy hands and pull you back to press a firm kiss over your lips. His thumb, the one that had smeared his cum over your tight hole, sinks between your moving lips, pushing into your mouth and onto your tongue as he whispers a small command to taste it, and you mewl.

“So good, princess—”

“Cut!”

You both jolt at the booming voice, getting rudely snapped out of the daze you’d fallen into. 

These fucking cameras.

You smile, dropping your cheek onto your shoulder as you bat your eyelashes up at Eddie from over your shoulder, “You’re a natural, Eddie, you know that?”

Eddie huffs a laugh, thanking the assistant when they bring you towels and robes.

“Well,” He breathes as he slinks the robe over his shoulders, watching as you do the same, “I’ve got the best coach.” He winks.

Now that you and Eddie have done two films together and basically had a sleepover, you’re practically inseparable.

It’s funny, really. Eddie thought maybe the fact that you’ve seen each other bare and had sex on camera might hinder the aspect of any friendly connection because, well, Eddie’s never done this before! He’s not a pornstar, so he’s not sure how the friendship/relationship aspect of it works, but luckily, it’s easier than most normal friendships Eddie’s had before.

You talk almost every night over the phone (Eddie finally fixed the wire), going over one another’s day and laughing at embarrassing or funny moments. You go on for hours until either one of you falls asleep, and it’s usually you since Eddie has the sleep schedule of a newborn baby who doesn’t know the difference between night and day. All the better for him, though, because he gets to poke fun at you the next day and tease you about how you sometimes snore.

And Eddie loves listening to you talk— could spend hours cuddled up with Banshee as he listens to you ramble on about whatever new show you’re watching or the latest gossip at work. It’s Eddie’s favorite part of his day, talking to you, so he kicks himself when he realizes he forgot to call you last night.

He’s getting ready for bed when he remembers, and he practically sprints to his phone on his nightstand and dials your number in less than thirty seconds. It takes you three rings to answer, and Eddie smiles at the sound of your voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, princess,” Eddie responds.

You gasp, “Eddie, hi! Oh, I was just about to call you! Where have you been?” You ask. Eddie groans, dropping back onto his mattress with spread arms. “Working. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. I just started a new schedule at the shop, and the hours are awful.”

Eddie can hear your frown when you respond, “Bummer. I’ve got a way to cheer you up, though.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed, and sleep is so heavy in his bones he feels like he’s sinking through the mattress, but he smiles as if it’s second nature when he responds, “Hit me.”

You cheer, and Eddie hears the rustling of grocery bags on your end as you speak, “My manager gave me a shit ton of holiday chocolates she had left over, and well, I was wondering if you’d like to drown yourself in sugar with me?” 

Eddie softly laughs, folding his arm to rest his hand on his tummy as he nods, forgetting you can’t see. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

The drive from your flat to Eddie’s is typically around twenty minutes, but with the benefit of it being nearly midnight and most normal people being in bed by now, you’re knocking on Eddie’s door in just a little under twelve minutes. 

Eddie opens the door to let you in and immediately just wants to kiss you. You’re dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, loose pajama pants with cute little ducks printed on them, and fluffy house slippers. You grin up at Eddie as you lift a bag full of candy, “I come bearing gifts!”

Eddie had been exhausted all day, but now that he’s had two handfuls of sugary treats, he’s ready to run a fucking marathon.

He’s sucking on a sour apple jawbreaker and watching some shitty romcom with Banshee curled in his lap when he feels your head softly drop onto his shoulder. He glances down at you and sees the soft flutter of your eyes, “Are you tired? You can take my bed.” He offers.

You tilt your head to blink up at him tiredly, ���Will you come with me?”

And well, Eddie was originally going to take the couch, but you’re looking up at him with these cute, bleary eyes, and Eddie can’t even imagine saying no. So, he shuts his TV off, makes a mental note to clean up the candy wrappers sometime tomorrow, and lets you drag him off to his room.

Banshee decided to take advantage of the new space on the couch and sprawl out, so Eddie doesn’t have to worry about asking if you’re okay with her cuddling up on his bed like she usually does. 

Eddie doesn’t do this very often— sleep with other people in his bed, he means. And sure, he’s had partners before that would stay the night here and there, but he hasn’t had that in over a year now, so it’s safe to say that Eddie’s a little bit nervous.

He doesn’t know if you want to be close, but considering how cuddly you are on a daily basis, he’s not surprised when you press yourself into his side with a content sigh, snuggling deeper into the warm covers. He turns, shifting to wrap his arms around your frame, trying his best to ignore the fast beating of his heart in his chest— but that’s not the main issue. The bigger problem is— “Eddie? Are you hard?”

Shit.

God, this is awful. Nothing even remotely sexual happened, and Eddie’s popping a boner and practically stabbing your stomach. Fuck, you probably think he’s a perv now. Nice going.

“No.”

It falls silent for a moment, and Eddie can feel the quiver of your body as you giggle into his shoulder. He smiles, an embarrassed blush rising over her cheeks as he lifts a hand to palm at his eye, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You turn in Eddie’s arm, pressing a hand to Eddie’s shoulder to lay him on his back. You stay lying by his side, body pressed to him, head resting on his shoulder. You nose at the curly strands of hair on Eddie’s neck, and your hand runs down his torso, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “O-oh. No, you don’t need to, princess.” Eddie says, yet his voice is shaky and holds anticipation as you drag your nails through the coarse hair leading to his cock. 

“I want to. Please?” You ask. And you’re so good, so obedient, not touching Eddie’s cock until he swallows and nods his head yes. You wriggle, like a happy pup that got a treat, and your hand sinks lower, wrapping around the thick of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie’s breath hitches, sinking into the feeling of your warm hand stroking up his cock, your thumb running over his leaking tip. Eddie curses, hips twitching up into your hold, and you press a kiss to his jaw, and Eddie nearly bursts into stars.

You press another kiss to his jaw, soft and sweet, and Eddie slinks an arm around you, sinking his hands into your hair and shakily breathing. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’m gonna— fuck.”

And it’s so pathetic; you’ve only had your hand down his pants for less than five minutes, and Eddie’s quivering like a virgin having their first time. God, this is so embarrassing.

You kiss Eddie once more, “Wait, wait. Not yet.”

And then you shuffle away from Eddie, and he’s frowning because he feels cold without you snuggled against him. But then you’re sinking underneath the covers, and Eddie’s cursing, “W-what are you doing, honey?”

He lifts the covers just as you wriggle your way between his legs and hook your fingers over the band of his sweats. You peel his sweats away, mouth opening like a hungry lion when Eddie’s cock pops out. You push the front band of his sweats to catch just below his balls, and Eddie’s hips squirm from the pressure making you giggle when his cock twitches.

You loop your fingers around his cock, twisting up on a long stroke, “Did I ever tell you how pretty your cock is, Eddie?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie breathes shakily through his nose, tummy quivering as your gaze flickers; he shakes his head no. Eddie sinks a hand to pet your hair back, smiling when you nuzzle into his touch, letting your lips brush against his tip, “You think it’s pretty, baby?” He asks.

You nod, letting your tongue loll out of your mouth to catch the pearl of pre-cum dripping from his tip. You don’t say anything else as you lean forward and wrap your mouth around him, languidly taking him as far as you want and sucking him for all he’s worth.

Eddie’s head drops back then, his entire body just losing strength to do anything as you slowly fuck your mouth over him. The blanket falls over you then, and Eddie curses, scrambling to push it back over your head so you don’t, like, suffocate on his cock.

And Eddie was already close before, so it doesn’t take long for him to start cursing and warning you that he’s gonna cum. Before he knows it, he’s emptying himself into the warm cavern of your mouth, soft mixes of curses and your name tumbling from his mouth as you happily take every last drop.

You pull off of him with a small pop, licking up the small remnants of cum that drool down his cock. Eddie feels weightless now; the effects of sugar are long gone now that you practically sucked his soul through his dick. You tuck Eddie back into his pants, and as if you couldn’t get any cuter, any sweeter, you press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s tummy right where the waistband sits.

Eddie’s got a loopy grin on his face when you crawl back up to snuggle back into his side, mumbling something about how you love licking his cock. Eddie nearly dies, by the way.

He thinks he’s in love with you, maybe.

You breathe in deep, draping an arm across Eddie’s tummy and slinking your leg between his, and you sigh all sleepy and cute as you say, “G’night, Eddie.”

Yeah. Eddie’s definitely in love with you.

Weeks go by as you and Eddie become thick as thieves.

You carry on with your nightly calls, obviously, but now there’s a healthy mix of one of you going to the other's home and crashing there for the night, then that bleeds into the next day where you just spend hours with each other doing fuck all.

Eddie just likes being around you. You don’t have to be doing anything particularly fun or sexual; no, Eddie just enjoys your company. And most times, you and Eddie will be doing your separate little activities— you reading or watching a movie while Eddie writes up new campaign ideas for Dustin— and you will reach out to twirl a strand of Eddie’s hair around your knuckle and gently tug or poke your finger into his cheek where his dimples reside and Eddie just melts.

Most of the time, you’re only doing it for your peace of mind (Eddie knows because you told him when he asked), but something tells him maybe you actually have something to say when you poke Eddie’s cheek for the third time.

He turns to you, brows raised and hiding beneath his bangs that so badly need a trim, “Yes, doll?”

You smile now that his attention is on you, and you shift, careful not to wake Banshee in your lap from your movements. Eddie thinks Banshee might like you more than she likes him, which is just downright traitorous, considering Eddie’s the one who feeds her and keeps a roof over her head. He doesn’t really blame the cat, though. 

“What are you doing on Saturday?” You ask.

Eddie hums, closing his notebook and leaning back into his couch, “This Saturday?”

You nod, and Eddie shrugs, lips pouting as he speaks, “Nothing, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

You sigh heavily, sinking into the couch as you gently pet Banshee behind her ear, “We have an event for work, and I was just wondering if you would maybe wanna tag along?”

Eddie’s head tips in interest, “Sure. Is it, like, fancy dress shit?” He asks. Eddie thinks he has a tux somewhere deep in the trenches of his closet. Probably the one he wore to Wayne's wedding two years ago; he hopes he still fits.

You shrug, “Eh, nothing too fancy schmancy. Slacks and a nice shirt will do,” You mindlessly watch the television, gently rubbing Banshee’s ear between your fingers. “That I can do, princess. But uh,” Eddie pauses, “You don’t seem too ecstatic about this.” He points out.

You shrug, glancing over at Eddie, and Eddie wants to kiss your pouty lips because you look adorable swallowed up in a throw blanket with sleepy eyes blinking up at him. “S’cause I’m not,” You huff, “I hate those ignorant assholes— don’t get me wrong, some of them are good friends of mine! But most of them are just…” You make a face and roll your eyes, and Eddie softly laughs. You let your head lazily turn to gaze at him, “Don says I have to go, though. So I figured I may as well drag someone I actually enjoy being around.” You softly smile.

Eddie’s heart flutters and grows three times the size of his body.

Saturday night comes quicker than most, and Eddie spends nearly an hour digging through his closet. By the time Eddie finds a nice enough shirt to pair with his neatly ironed (to Eddie’s standard, which is probably not very high) slacks, he’s running behind and starts to stress that he won’t pick you up on time, and he’s just totally made an ass of himself.

It’s five o’clock when Eddie gets to your flat, and when he knocks on your door, he’s out of breath because he smokes more than a godman grill, and he skipped every other step on the staircase to get there quicker. He’s thinking of a million ways to apologize for being late, and he thinks he has it right when you open the door, but then— “Oh. Hey Eds! You’re early!”

Eddie huffs, nearly doubling over in exhaustion because he seriously needs to quit smoking, “Wha– early?”

You hold the door open for Eddie to step in and nod. You’re in a white fluffy robe with house boots on, and your hair is tied back, so you have a clear canvas to work with for your makeup. “Yeah, it starts at seven.” 

And, oh, what the fuck? Here Eddie was stressing and thinking he’d completely ruined his chances with you because he decided to be an asshat and lose track of time on his video games, but in reality, he’s nearly two hours early?!

“Oh, but now you can help me pick a dress. Come on.”

No, Eddie has zero complaints, actually. He’s grateful that he’s timely challenged, he thinks as you drag him toward your room.

Eddie spends the next thirty minutes or so seated at the foot of your bed, judging whichever dresses you surprise him with from out of your closet.

It isn’t easy to give a solid answer because, well, you look good in all of them. And Eddie’s not even being biased because he’s got a sickening crush on you— no, you genuinely look amazing in every dress.

“Eddie, you’ve said yes to all of them.” You huff. “Because they all look good!” Eddie exclaims.

You frown, resting your hands on your hips and tilting your head at him. Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know why you’re upset with me when it’s technically your fault.” He points out, to which you roll your eyes and jokingly throw a dress at his face.

It takes a while for you to decide; by the time you’ve figured it out, there’s about forty minutes until the event begins.

The dress you landed on is evil, to say the least.

It’s a black puffy babydoll-style dress, except instead of a poofy top half, it’s tight fitting and pushes your chest up to sit nice and pretty, and the straps are thin, and Eddie thinks about the sound you’d make if he just reached out and teasingly snapped it against your skin. Wants to coo when you squirm and mewl and press yourself into him.

And the dress is so short, long enough to cover everything, but you wouldn’t have to bend over very far to flash a lucky person, and the sight of your thighs makes Eddie’s head spin.

He doesn’t know where the courage comes from because Eddie is anything but bold when it comes to people he has ridiculous crushes on, but Eddie couldn’t help himself, watching you bent over the sink as you do your last touch-ups to your makeup, the way your silky thighs rub against one another when you shift to get closer to the mirror— Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

He’s behind you before he knows it, and you’re smiling at him through the mirror, “Almost done, promise.” You say.

Eddie lets his hand slink around your waist, dropping his head to nuzzle into your neck, brown eyes fluttering up to hold your gaze through the glass as he kisses your skin before playfully nipping at you. You squeal, curling away from him, and he smiles as you push at him. “You’re cute,” Eddie softly says, and he grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip when you shy away from his gaze, “So pretty.” He adds.

Eddie turns you to face him as he presses you against the bathroom sink. He seeks your lips, but you pout and shake your head, “My lipgloss.” 

Eddie huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, careful not to catch any of the sticky application before sinking to his knees, hands gentle and greedy as they caress your thighs.

Eddie leans forward to kiss the inside of your knee, “Gonna let me taste you, honey?” He hums, leaning in the press a kiss further up the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches, legs subconsciously spreading wider to accommodate Eddie. Your nails dig into the countertop as you shakily breathe, “W-we’re gonna be late,” You weakly say as Eddie lets his tongue draw shapes in your skin. Eddie hums, sucking the fat of your thigh into his mouth before leaving with a pop, lips brushing against your hot skin as he says, “I’ll be quick. Promise.”

He doesn’t wait for your response as he coasts his hands up your thighs to loop his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down your legs and helping you step out of them. 

Eddie doesn’t waste time then; he kisses a sloppy wet trail up the inside of your thigh, fingers digging into the fat of your skin and helping you spread open for him so he can nuzzle his head beneath the fluffy tulle of your dress and begin his task of devouring you. You’re wet, dripping, and throbbing for Eddie’s tongue, and this is the third time that Eddie has found himself licking into you, and god, it never gets fucking old.

The sounds you make, the way you writhe, the tiny gasps you give, and then the way your cunt pulses around his tongue— it’s the pinnacle of Eddie’s night, he already knows. 

“E-Eddie— oh,” Your breathy whine makes Eddie stuff his face further into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit as he thrusts his tongue into you, your hands scrambling down to sink into Eddie’s hair and tug.

And it took Eddie longer than he’d like to admit to get his hair slicked into the neat bun he’s sporting, but with his tongue plunged deep inside of you and your pretty moans filling his ears, Eddie can’t seem to care that you’re definitely messing up his hard work.

Eddie could spend eternity here, down on his knees, under the dress of your skirt, lapping at your pussy like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. And sure, Eddie makes this conclusion, like, every single time he finds himself between your legs, but can you blame him? You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of dealing with.

You lift a leg to hook over Eddie’s shoulder, the heel of your foot pressing into his shoulder blade and pushing a moan from the depths of Eddie’s chest as he snuggles deeper into you, licking and sucking and nipping. 

“S-so close…” You whimper, thighs beginning to quiver on each side of Eddie’s head. He fixes his grip on your hips because Eddie wouldn’t dream of letting you fall in his presence, and you’re standing on your tiptoes when you fumble over the edge, crying out for Eddie as you soak his tongue.

Eddie’s moaning into you, fingers massaging and caressing the thick parts of your hips and thighs as he continues working you through your orgasm. You’re twitching and heavily breathing when Eddie parts his mouth from your slick folds, strings of arousal and spit snapping and falling to his chin. God, it makes Eddie ache in his pants.

He presses sweet and sticky kisses to the insides of your thighs, savoring every moment he has here, breathing you in, tasting you, feeling you, hearing you. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that he looks like a madman when he brings his head out from under your dress, and you giggle, pressing your hand to your lips.

Eddie wants to hear that noise on repeat. Put his headphones on and, like, clean his house or something. Let your giggles play on a constant loop until they’re engrained into the grooves of his brain so he never has to go a second without hearing them.

“What?” Eddie smiles, hands still under your dress and soothingly squeezing the shaky muscles of your thighs. Your eyes are glazed from pleasure, and you look warm as you speak, “I– your hair,” You laugh. You press the wispy curls of Eddie’s bangs back, “I’m so sorry. It looked so nice, and I messed it up.” You happily frown.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your knee and shaking his head, “That’s okay,” He responds, reaching over for your panties to help you slip them back on. “It was for a good cause.” He winks.

Eddie doesn’t frequent fancy parties.

The fanciest event Eddie’s ever been to was a masquerade-themed dinner that he and Jeff snuck into because there were rumors of a big hit producer being there, which, big fucking shocker, they never found him since everyone was in a fucking mask. It was a waste of time, but at least they ate like kings that night.

Besides that, Eddie doesn’t go to fancy places— it’s just not his kind of scene. And it’s not like the event you’ve brought him to tonight is, like, Buckingham Palace tier, but everyone here looks like a million bucks and up, and Eddie’s not quite sure he’s up to that standard.

He would be more worried if you weren’t clinging to him like a koala bear and keeping him in light conversation.

You introduced Eddie to a few of your industry friends, and one or two of them even remembered Eddie from the films he’d done with you, which, Eddie doesn’t know why, but his head grew three times bigger in size from that. And for the most part, you keep to Eddie’s side, pointing out different people from across the room and telling him the lore behind them and whatnot as you share a plate of snacks.

And you love grapes, apparently, because Eddie’s had to get up and refill on them about three times now. “Do you want more?” Eddie asks when he realizes you’re almost done. You glance at him with a small smile as you nod, “I’ll get it this time, though. I want to try some of the cheese.”

So, Eddie nods and keeps an eye on you until the crowd obstructs his view. He busies himself with watching the room, tries to see if he can pick out anyone from any pornos he’s watched before he realizes that’s fucking weird and cringes at himself for being a perv. He finishes his glass of champagne, which Eddie isn’t a champagne guy, but it was either that or whiskey, and Eddie would rather not get shitfaced tonight.

And what’s taking you so long? You’ve been gone for a while now, and Eddie had first thought you maybe made a quick stop at the restrooms, but it’s been more than enough time, and he misses you (as fucking sappy as that is), so he gets up and makes his way to the food bar.

He’s got his empty flute in one hand and the other in his pocket, brown eyes softly scanning the room as he walks. And then he spots you, near the food where you said you’d be, with some guy talking to you, but something isn’t right. 

Eddie’s spent enough time with you now to be able to tell when you’re feeling uneasy just by the way you anxiously drag your nail against the length of your thumb, the way your eyes dart around, or the tense pull of your shoulders.

Your gaze lands on Eddie, and your eyes soften, and Eddie doesn’t even have to think twice before he walks over.

The man's back is facing Eddie, so he doesn’t see the curly-headed boy until he steps around and slinks an arm around your waist, pulling you close with a soft smile, “Been looking for you, sweets.” He presses a kiss to your forehead as you sink into him.

“Mm, just catching up with..a friend.” 

Eddie doesn’t miss the pause. He looks over to the man you’d been talking to, and you take a breath, “Eddie, this is Chris, a coworker.” You introduce the man. And Eddie remembers that name; he thinks he remembers seeing it on the script of the last film you and Eddie did together— the one where you’d asked Eddie to take over because the other guy was an asshole.

Chris reaches out a hand, “Chris. You must be a good friend of hers?”

Eddie doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that he doesn’t refer to you by your name, or the smug grin on his face, or the sly tone in his voice when he says it. 

And Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, okay. He doesn’t know why the words fly out of his mouth or why he didn’t, like, think it through, but suddenly, Eddie’s introducing himself as your boyfriend. Which, Eddie is not your boyfriend. And you’re not his girlfriend.

Eddie would love to be your boyfriend, and he’d love for you to be his girlfriend, but— but you’re not. So, Eddie doesn’t know why he does it, but he does, and god, it’s comedic how the guy's face falls. Eddie can feel your gaze on him, and he panics a little because what if Eddie just crossed the line big time?

Chris’s gaze flickers to you, and his brows raise as you look at him, “So, I take it this is why you’re only doing solo content now?”

Which, fucking gross. That’s definitely none of this meathead guy's business! So what if you’re making solo content only? And why does he know, and why does he care? God, this guy’s a creep.

But also… why are you only doing solo content? Eddie can’t help but wonder. Did something happen? Was it this asshole's fault? Eddie will kill him if he has anything to do with it. You and Eddie have become so close; you tell each other everything about everything, so why didn’t you tell him about this? It’s not a big deal or whatever, but—

“Does it matter?” Shit, Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud.

You’re both looking at Eddie in shock, and Eddie just blinks and waits for an answer.

You take in a deep breath, arm squeezing around Eddie’s as you answer— since this guy can’t take a fucking hint, “Yeah, actually, it is. Just didn’t feel right.” You shrug.

The guy nods, pursing his lips together, “Fair enough. Well, if that ever changes, you know where to find me.” He winks before turning around and leaving. Eddie cringes, and he almost steps forward to say something, to tell him to fuck off somewhere, but your grip tightens around his arms, and Eddie understands that you just want the conversation to be over.

Eddie’s quickly turning his attention to you, though, when you press yourself into his side, “Thank you.” You sweetly say.

Eddie nods, a warm hand reaching up to squeeze your hand that's resting over his bicep, “Don’t sweat it, princess. That guy’s a douche.” And you huff, nodding your head, “Yeah. You definitely scared him, though. It was pretty hot.”

Eddie tries not to let that get to his head. 

He fails.

The rest of the night goes well with fewer dickhead run-ins and more grapes, and Eddie is more than Elated when you say it’s time to go.

The ride home is pleasant, and you’ve been extra cuddly all night, so Eddie’s heart is practically the size of Texas when you bring his hand into your lap and slink your fingers together. You’re spending the night, so Eddie’s kind of excited to get in bed and snuggle until you both pass out— but then Eddie’s thrown in for a loop when you both get under his covers.

Banshee is busy in her bakery down at the foot of the bed, kneading little biscuits in preparation for her sleep, and you’re fresh-faced and wrapped in one of Eddie’s shirts when you look over at him with a teasing look, “So,” you start, “You’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie blinks at you, wishing the bed would just let him sink in and become one with the mattress. “Oh god,” He groans, pressing his hands to his face, “I’m sorry, it just came out! That guy was being a dick, and it was the first thing that I thought of, and— god, I’m sorry.” He drags his hands over his face and shoots you an empathetic look. “You can totally, like, kick me in the nuts.”

And Eddie kind of braces himself for you to chew him out or something; tell him he’s a weirdo, and he’ll never in a million years get to call himself your boyfriend because you’re way out of his league. But then you giggle. 

And it’s not the teasing ‘get a load of this loser’ giggle— no, it’s your sweet, kind, and adoring giggle.

“No, no. I was… I was wondering when you would ask, actually.”

Eddie’s never turned his head so fast. He thinks he imagined you saying it, like, maybe he drank too much champagne even though he literally only had less than two full glasses the entire night. “Huh? I– w-what do you mean?” Eddie gapes. “Like… like, ask you to be my girlfriend?”

And you’re so cute as you shyly nod, glancing at Eddie with this expectant gaze.

“Shit, well uh, I-I wanted to ask you in like a bigger way. Like flowers and shit because I… well, I really like you, and it’s what you deserve and—”

You cut Eddie off with a laugh and scoot closer to him, and if Eddie’s heart beats any faster, he might die. “Eddie,” You lowly and softly say, holding his gaze. Eddie nods, eyes darting down to your lips as he holds his breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Shit, Eddie’s never said yes so quickly in his life.

————

a/n: HELLOOO! if you have made it to the end of this awfully long baby i am so thankful and appreciative of you, these two are my babies so I hope you enjoyed them as much as I've enjoyed my time with them <3 as always, thank u for reading and being here, i love and appreciate any feedback, ILYSM MWAH <3

————

cutie teeny taglist: @vol2eddie @paleidiot @hideoutside

[suiana]

(yandere! ghost husband x gn! reader)

In many asian cultures,

it is taught to people to not touch any offerings or money that is left on the ground.

For if you do so,

you shall be married to a dead person.

however, you chose not to heed these warnings and picked up a heavy wad of cash that was left on the sidewalk of a forest.

you picked it up, happily thinking it was just some rich guy who dropped his money while on a nature walk, that you got lucky enough to stumble upon his secret stash.

so you brought it home with you, thinking of all the wonderful things you'd buy with this newfound money you got.

unfortunately, that was just the start of many unexplainable things that begun to happen to you.

"dude can you not close my door?! I'm trying to go on a date!"

you yell at the air, staring at your door which suddenly slammed shut. it had been a few weeks since these events had started occuring. and events as in, random paranormal events. yes, paranormal.

it all started when you found that thick wad of cash on the sidewalk of some asian country and brought it back home with you. you thought you were lucky to have stumbled upon such treasure. like, holy shit that's a few hundred thousand of dollars!

yet the second you stepped foot inside your house, chills ran down your spine and you couldn't help but feel absolutely scared to enter your home.

but you simply shrugged it off, thinking you were just overthinking and worrying over nothing. must be the scary asian ghost stories you heard.

you should've went to the exorcist the second you felt that gut instinct though.

because as the days went by, your lights started turning in and off by itself, your house would be cleaned meticulously even when it looked like a fucking dumpsite a few hours before, and more importantly, you'd start hearing voices of a man who claimed to be 'your husband'.

at first you wondered if you were schizophrenic. holy shit, were you hallucinating right now? why the hell was there this attractive voice that kept on talking to you from time to time?

but it wasn't you being schizophrenic, unfortunately.

for what you were experiencing was very much real. there was now a ghost in your house, or rather around you, that would not leave no matter how hard you tried.

and you came to live with it, until today.

why? because you were about to go on a date with this super sexy guy but then this... this ghost husband wouldn't let you!

freaking slammed the door when you tried leaving! like who even does that?!

"ugh, you're being unreasonable!"

you yell at the air, glaring angrily as you place your hands on your hips. you didn't know where this ghost husband of yours was, but you did know he was near you. i mean, the temperature drop was a clear sign that he was.

"me? unreasonable?"

ah, there he was.

you turn around to face the aur, glaring angrily as you feel your skin prickling. his voice came from behind you and he was whispering into your ear. he always likes to do that, you noticed. speaking from behind.

"yeah, you! dude i just want to get laid!"

you reply in irritation, hands on your hips as you shake your head. you wait for his reply, pursuing your lips angrily before shrieking as you feel him blow cold air against your nape.

"but you have me, don't you?"

"well I don't want you! I didn't know you'd come together with the money! and I can't even use the money..."

you mumble off, shivering slightly as you continue to glare at the air. god damn it, so much talk about being your husband and you don't even know how he looks like! heck, you can't even see him!

"I don't even know how you look like! how could you prevent me from going on a date with this sexy guy-"

in the middle of your complaint, you suddenly yelp as an attractive male, albeit a translucent one, stares right at you, an unamused face as he looks you down.

"well you can see me now."

he mumbles, arms folded across his chest as he glares back at you.

your mouth is dry, cheeks slightly pink as you stare at the man. holy moly! you have a hot husband?!

"holy cow! you're hot?"

"what's that supposed to mean?"

you stare at the male, jaw dropping before you slap your face and look him up and down. he was clad in a traditional outfit, looking expensive and absolutely drop dead gorgeous- well he's dead but... gorgeous!

"damn okay, I won't go on that date..."

you drool slightly, moving away from your door as you continue staring at your ghost husband dumbly, giggling as you walk past him onto the couch.

"of course you won't. you're already married to me."

your husband follows after you, a cold aura following him wherever he went, chilling the area. thankfully the heat in your body helped to warm you up.

"why didn't you show me your face earlier? you're so sexy..."

"well you never asked."

he shrugs before floating over to you and resting his head in your lap. his eyes look into yours, a lovesick expression in his eyes as he traces his translucent hand into your skin, making the area tingle slightly.

you stare down at him, pursing your lips before giggling stupidly and blushing. damn, you really did have a hot husband. even though he's dead, he's still your husband! you only wish he was alive... then maybe you two could get dirty and-

"you know i can still pleasure you right?"

the ghost suddenly deadpans, looking right at you as though he had read your thoughts. you blink at him, not registering his words before you suddenly choke on air and look away.

"oh, are you choking? don't die yet... i like your body heat."

your husband suddenly moves away from your lap, getting up to pat your back in a pitiful attempt to relieve you from your choking fit. all you felt while you coughed was the tingling sensation of cold hands.

"damn you can't just say stuff like that-"

"but you were thinking about it, no? i can hear your thoughts, you know."

you proceed to choke on air again, having yet another coughing fit as your ghost husband continues to pat your back with his cold ghostly hands.

"oh my god just kill me now... this is so embarrassing-"

"no, i already said i like your body heat and you can't die yet."

you immediately shut up, staring at the ghostly male with dead eyes.

before you know it, you're walking to your kitchen to grab a knife to kill youself just to spite him. but of course, you were stopped by your husband who immediately wrestles the knife away from you, smacking your head painfully hard before dragging you back to the couch where he begins to suck your warmth away like a leech.

damn him, maybe you should get an exorcist.

"you know i can hear your thoughts right? you're not getting rid of me."

damn him, you really are going to get an exorcist.

"what? darling i just said no!"

you're getting an exorcist.

[lexirosewrites]

O!Steve is pregnant w Tommy's baby out of wedlock & he knows Tommy will use the pregnancy as a means to essentially trap him in a horrible marriage he doesn't want.

It's 1969, abortion is now newly safe & legal in California so Steve makes a decision. B!Robin helps as he gathers all the cash he has hidden away under the floorboard in his closet; Christmas money, birthday money, and painstakingly saved wages plus tips from working the ice cream shop every summer. Robin gives him all of the tips she'd saved as well.

All they need now is a ride out of town & all the way to California. Steve’s car is recognizable & registered to his father. Robin can't drive except for her bicycle, but she is skilled at reading a road map. There's no one they can rlly trust with the truth of their destination, till A!Eddie Munson stumbles upon them on the side of the road by the Hawkins sign.

He recognizes them, they of course recognize him, and he reveals he's skipping town to bum around California following music festivals and chasing fame. Robin tries lying for them saying they're just headed to California for a summer anywhere but Hawkins. Eddie doesn't seem to believe them, throwing glances Steve's way.

After 3 days they scrounge together some money for a motel room & they all finally get the chance to shower. Eddie takes the opportunity while Robin is showering to bring up tht Steve is obviously pregnant. He promises he won't say anything again after he gets an answer to his question: is Steve safe if he returns to Hawkins without a baby?

Steve breaks down into sobs as he admits out loud tht no he's not safe in Hawkins at all. Not even in his childhood home. That while he does want to b a mom he doesn't want to b one yet, doesn't want to have a child with this person, doesn't want to end up married to someone who'd only restrict his few freedoms till there was only a shell left behind. Robin comes out of the shower to find Steve crying in Eddie's arms.

Eddie vows to them both he'll help Steve get to California.

Eventually they get to San Francisco & Eddie goes w Steve to a clinic. The procedure is done with Steve holding Eddie's hand. In the end Steve asks to b w Eddie through the summer & Robin goes back to Indiana on a bus w promises tht Steve will write to her. Noone pretends Steve or Eddie will go back to Indiana ever again. A summer of music festivals in California turns into autumn in a town outside Seattle & Eddie’s found work in a mechanics shop while Steve waits tables at a diner. They've found a place to live, and got their mating officially registered at the courthouse. In their free time Steve paints and Eddie plays his acoustic guitar. Till three years have passed & they decide they're both ready for a baby.

Their little girl is born with ten fingers and ten toes on May 18th, 1971. Exactly 3 years to the day tht Eddie let a pregnant Steve & worried Robin into his van on his way to California.

the bar might be on the floor for men, but alpha Eddie being pro-choice, supportive, and helping omega Steve get the abortion he needs to be safe will always make me melt😭💕

[ameliora-j]

‧₊˚ piercer!ron weasley x reader ‧₊˚

so anyway this has been on my mind since i got my nipples pierced specifically bc of the way i was moaning like a lil bitch in the piercer’s chair 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

content → piercer!ron, needles, nipple play, voyeurism, slight pain kink, praise, nipple piercings, blood mention, lightheadedness, 18+ BLOG MDNI

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡

you’re anxious as you walk into the shop, but you know you have to do this. it’s been years upon years since you’ve wanted this specific piercing—ever since you turned eighteen to be exact. you called on one of your breaks at work, asking if the tattoo shop did nipple piercings.

the kind lady connected you with the shop’s piercer—who to your surprise was a man with an english accent. after telling you the price, he asks specifically for cash. when you see the exact cash amount in your wallet, you figure it’s a sign. anytime that you plan in advance for any kind of piercing or tattoo, you lose the confidence of going nearly the day of—so it’s now or never.

when you walk in, a girl with bright pink hair looks around to see if anyone was available for a walk in. most of them were half asleep, and you feel bad for waking them up from their naps—but they don’t seem to mind. you’re surprised that they aren’t busy on a saturday evening, but a brunette man with round glasses stands and stumbled to the desk, ready to ask what tattoo you have in mind.

“um… hi… i called earlier um a-about… about nipple piercings” you stammer shyly, unable to hide the blush growing on your cheeks.

he wasn’t overly muscular or large, his small amount of tummy pudge peeking out as he stretched his arms high above his head, revealing more ink lining his torso.

“oh!” the man nods as he turns around and walks towards the back. “ron! piercing” you hear a soft grumble and a deep sigh—not of annoyance, but from just waking up. a tall redheaded man with broad shoulders appears. he has sleeves of tattoos lining his arms and some small tattoos on his hands. there was a small stud piercing beneath his eye, a few tattoos on his face as well.

you feel as though your breath is knocked out of your chest as he smiles at you, a small whine leaving his lips as he finishes his deep stretch. “sorry, i just woke up” he chuckles.

“oh no, don’t worry… i’m surprised you guys aren’t more busy tonight” you say, and he nods in agreement as he grabs the papers.

“i know, i was thinking the same thing” he chuckles, grabbing a pen. “i just need you to initial and sign this paper and then i need your id” he tells you, handing the paper and pen over to him. you nod softly and do as he says, passing over your id and scanning over the paper, initialing each line.

it isn’t long before you’re done and he comes back up to the front, leading you to his small section of the tattoo shop. “go ahead and sit right there” he nods, pointing to the tattoo chair as he looks over his tool tray and all that he has. you sit down in the chair, making yourself comfortable as you take your bag off and adjust yourself.

you learn quickly that ron isn’t much of a talker, but thankfully neither are you. he already has his tray set up, asking you a few quick questions as he moves everything over towards you. “so… obviously i don’t have a privacy curtain, i’m sorry about that” he blushes a bit as he finishes washing his hands. “If you just… bare with me a bit” he chuckles nervously.

he looks around his small station, noting that it’s basically out in the open. he’s a sweet man, you learn quickly, so you smile at him. “that’s alright” you reassure him. you wiggle a bit in the seat, still slightly anxious. “i’ll be fine” you nod, more so assuring yourself than him this time.

“go ‘head and take off your shirt, and then if you can just pull down your bra for me” he nods, turning around towards his desk and getting a little care package ready for when you go—wanting to give you at least some semblance of privacy while undressing.

when he turns back around, his cheeks tint pink as he looks first at your boobs then up at you. “you can just turn and face this way” he nods as he rolls over in the small circle chair. you do as he says and face him just as he turns to his tool tray. though he doesn’t have a privacy curtain, he uses his large body and broad shoulders to cover your breasts from the other piercers and the large windows—there were no other patrons in the shop besides you, so this made you feel incredibly at ease. “have you had your nipples pierced before?” he asks.

“no, never” you shake your head. he notices the tremor in your voice and gives you a little reassuring smile. he can tell you’re anxious, and he’s doing everything he can to ease your nerves. “i just have one rule for all my tattoo artists, piercers, nurses… anyone that comes near my body with a needle” you ramble a bit as you list the different occupations.

he chuckles a bit as he nods, grabbing an alcohol wipe to clean your nipples. “what is it?” he hums.

“don’t count.” you say seriously. “i don’t want 1, 2, 3 or 3, 2, 1… if you count i’ll tell you to stop and just go home” you tell him. ron laughs a bit harder, his orange curls bobbing as he nods in understanding.

“alright, i can do that” he nods. “i’m just gonna clean them, and then i’ll mark them and show you, and after that i’ll do the piercing” he informs you, and you’re nodding along with each thing he says. once you’ve gotten the nitty-gritty out of the way, you keep your head down, watching his arms and his body as he works. “do you have a preference of which one you want me to do first?” he asks.

“no” you shake your head. “just go for it” you giggle a bit, and he smiles at you. ron takes a gloved hand, starting with your left tit and gently pinching your nipple between his fingers. he flicks it a few times, his brows pinching together in focus as he plays with your nipple in order to get it hard. you don’t even notice ron has the needle in his hand until you feel it piercing through the sensitive skin.

you suck in air through your teeth, squeezing your hands into fists as you try, but fail, to bite back a whine. “breathe… breathe, it’s okay” ron whispers softly, inching a bit closer to you. “you can squeeze my shoulder if you need to… you won’t mess me up” he says softly. his movements are slow and deliberate, taking time to not mess up your piercing as he pushes the needle through to the other side.

a moan of pain tumbles past your lips once more as you squeeze his shoulder and grit your teeth. “owowowow” you whine, trying your hardest not to squirm or cringe away in pain.

“i know, i’m sorry” he murmurs softly. “you’re doing so good, we’re almost there” he whispers. just as he says that, you feel the needle poke through the other side, and you let out a sigh of relief. your relief is short lived as he pushes the jewelry through the new hole he just made in your body and another high pitched moan tumbles past your lips. “there we go…” he says softly, gently rubbing your side. “i just have to screw this in and then i’ll move on to the other side” he tells you as he grabs the ball end of the jewelry.

the second one is nowhere near as painful as the first—going in much easier as well. however, it still has you making those pretty little sounds on that are making ron’s cock harden as he wonders what other sounds he can pull from you. “that’s it” he praises gently, nearly having to physically restrain himself from placing a kiss to your delicate skin. “you did so good” he hums, beginning to clean the spilling blood.

“thank you” you smile at him as he finishes up, letting you know you can redress and beginning to clean his station. as you pull your bra back up and grab for your shirt, the room begins to spin. you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, a small smile gracing your lips as you become slightly loopy. “um… can i lay down for a minute?” you giggle softly.

“yeah of course!” he smiles as he turns to look at you. “are you lightheaded?” he asks, walking over to his mini fridge. when you only hum and nod in response, he hands you a capri sun and a pack of scooby-doo fruit snacks. “here… sugar will help” he tells you. he sits in his chair as you pop open the capri sun, now done cleaning. “eat the fruit snacks. all that sugar will help.” he tells you softly when he notices you only drinking the juice.

you nod lazily, squinting your eyes open as you make a small rip in the package. “yanno usually i’m paid to see my tits, not the other way around… and you didn’t even compliment them” you sigh, your head still spinning a bit as you smile lazily. you bite back a giggle when you imagine the blush that you definitely know is coating his cheeks.

his only response is a chuckle, and you think that’s the end of it until you’re checking out and paying him—now ready to actually stand straight and be able to drive your car. as you hand him the money, he gives you a care package, a cute sticker, aftercare instructions, ointment and alcohol wipes, a lollipop, and a blank card with his name and number. “text me a picture when you have the gauze off so i can make sure they look alright… maybe then i’ll compliment them” he winks slyly.

suddenly, you’re the one blushing as you walk out to your car.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡

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[envysparkler]

Jason tucked himself deeper into his hoodie and tried not to shiver.  His fingers were numb around the tire iron, more from panic than the chill in the air, and he felt like he was being turned to ice, inch by painful inch.

He could still see the cold look on Johnny Six-Fingers’ face, the reek of tobacco, the ultimatum ringing through the air and echoing inside his head.

Jason had a debt to pay, and Six-Fingers had gotten tired of waiting.  Jason had one night to scrounge up two grand in cash, or he’d have to pay it off the usual way.  By standing on street corners.

Six-Fingers didn’t care that Jason was only twelve and didn’t have any way to get a real job.  He didn’t care that the money had all been funneled into the black hole of Jason’s mother’s hospital expenses.  He didn’t care that the money hadn’t even worked, that Jason’s mom had died, wasting away with every breath, and Jason was left with no parents, no home, and a debt to one of Crime Alley’s most infamous money-lenders and pimps.

He didn’t care that there was no way Jason could scramble together two grand in cash in one fucking night.

The wind was biting on his cheeks and Jason took a few deep breaths as his eyes prickled.  No.  No.  There—there had to be a way.  Jason wasn’t going to become a whore.  He’d find the two grand—he’d steal it if he had to, he wouldn’t become one of the empty-eyed men and women standing on the streets, lighting up to detach themselves from reality.

But it was late.  Very late.  No one was out on the streets this late at night, not when the Batman lurked.  Most people in Gotham had better sense than to get in the way of a prowling nightmare of darkness and claws, lest they end up as another bloody body in a gutter.

Jason unfortunately had to sacrifice sense for speed.  The one skill he was very good at was jacking tires, and they didn’t sell for much, but if he found a really good score, he could maybe bargain with Tony at the shop to get the two grand.  He’d owe Tony then, but the mechanic would let him pay it off by working at the shop.

It was a horrible plan.  It relied on Jason basically stumbling upon a pot of gold, and avoiding Gotham’s most infamous murderer while he was at it.  Jason was usually careful to jack tires during the day—if Batman ever caught him, Jason would be seeing his own insides.

At the moment, it was a risk he was willing to take.

It was going to be fine.  Everything was going to be fine.  He was going to find some tires, sell them, get Six-Fingers his money, and then maybe his mom would come back to life and tuck him into bed.  Jason exhaled harshly and tightened his fingers on the tire iron.

He needed to get the cash.

Crime Alley was quiet.  The pubs had closed an hour ago, which left no one on the streets.  There weren’t many cars here, and none of them had tires that would sell for more than a hundred bucks.  Jason was consciously aware of his heart pounding in his ears, like a ticking clock counting down his fate.

Tick tock.

He had to find something.

Tick tock.

He wouldn’t become a whore.  He wouldn’t.

Tick tock.

Please—he had to find something, please—

Tick tock.

He wanted his mom.  He wanted his dad.  He wanted someone, anyone, to tell him it was going to be okay.

Tick tock.

He wanted to find a car that was gleaming and dark and all tricked-up, with massive tires and novelty rims, and—oh shit, that was the Batmobile.

Fuck.  Everyone knew of Batman’s tank of a car, how easily he evaded police and gangs and everyone, blasting through Gotham like he owned the goddamn city.  And given that no one had been able to stop him even once in the last decade, he probably did.

Jason had already turned to flee before his mind caught up to his legs and reminded him that he hadn’t done anything illegal.  Yet.  Running would be suspicious.

He let himself casually ogle the car as he took inching steps backwards, his heart pounding so loud he was surprised it wasn’t echoing in the alley.  Every fraction of his attention was focused on listening for a whisper of a cape, or perhaps the hiss of claws scything through air, his tire iron clutched firmly to his chest.  He was going to get out of the alley calmly and carefully, and—and if Batman was prowling around Crime Alley, Jason’s chances of getting that two grand had just vanished, and he didn’t want to go back to Six Fingers, and—

Those…were nice tires.  Fancy tires.  The kind of tires that would totally be worth two grand.  No sane person would want anything to do with Batman’s tires, but Tony did work for the Families too, and some of them could be interested in trophies.

If Jason actually managed to get the tires off without being murdered or having a heart attack.

He didn’t want to.  He desperately didn’t want to.  But the choice was between Batman and Six-Fingers, and Batman wasn’t here.

“You can do this,” he whispered to himself, his fingers twisting on the tire iron.  Steady and careful.  Silent and quick.  “You have to do this.”

Jason checked one last time for shining claws and white eyes in the darkness, and got to work.

~#~

The combination of fear, dread, and panic helped Jason work faster than he ever had in his life.  He unscrewed the bolts, kicked the tires off, and rolled them to the next alley to hide them below a stack of cardboard.  It was going to be tricky to get them all the way to Tony’s shop, but first Jason had to get them off.  The minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow, as his fingers grew clammier and his breaths grew shorter.

The world had narrowed down to his numb fingers, the bolts, the tires, and his distressingly loud heartbeat.

Jason, working away at the third tire, didn’t realize he had company until he heard the low growl, right behind him—“What are you doing?”

Nerves strained to the breaking point, Jason reacted on instinct.  He jerked away from the tire, yanking the tire iron back with him, and shifted his grip as he spun and swung with the movement.

The tire iron crashed into a nightmare.

The nightmare staggered back with a grunt.

Jason allowed himself a split second to feel—oh no oh fuck oh no—before booking it.

There was a time to fight and a time to flee the fucking country, oh fuck, he attacked Batman, he was going to die, he didn’t want to die and the pulsing sound of his heartbeat was overridden by the too-loud sound of his shoes smacking against loose asphalt.  He didn’t hear Batman, but he hadn’t heard the monster before he spoke up, and there was no fucking way Jason was looking back to check what’d happened.

Run, screamed every cell in his body, run and hide, adrenaline coursing through him and narrowing his focus on the desperate effort to get away.

If Jason had been slightly less panicked, he might’ve remembered that this alley was a dead-end before he nearly brained himself smacking against the brick wall.

Run, everything inside him insisted, and Jason clawed at the wall in an attempt to climb it, but there were no handholds, nowhere he could jam his fingers and hoist himself up.  The chill down his spine grew to a sharp, vicious ache as the weight of silent regard grew heavier and heavier.

Jason stared blankly at the brick wall and felt his face begin to prickle.

He was going to die.  It wasn’t a theoretical.  Batman murdered criminals, everyone knew it, and no one could stop him.  Certainly no one would care if he murdered Jason.  Jason was dead, and every breath he took could be his last.

His face was wet, and he was trembling all over.  He felt curiously detached from his body, like he was in a dream, and when he blinked, the world went dark for a stretching moment.  He didn’t want to die.  He didn’t want it to hurt.  He desperately didn’t want to feel pain.

A footstep echoed right behind him.

“Please,” Jason’s voice said hollowly, the words spilling from his mouth without permission.  Everything was blurry.  “Make it quick.”

One punch of the claws through his back, and Batman could rip his heart out.  It would be done.  He couldn’t hear Batman move, but the presence behind him intensified, and the world retreated a little bit more when a gauntleted, clawed hand settled on his shoulder

A slash of razor-sharp metal through his throat would be equally fast.  Jason let himself be maneuvered, let the threatening grip turn him around, let cold and bloody claws tip his chin up to look at Death.

It was terrifying.  This was the last thing many people saw before they died.  A hulking outline of shadows looming above them, a full-face mask with pointed ears and glowing white eyes, red glinting ever so darkly against the black armor.

“What’s your name?” the growl ground out, distorted and echoey.  It sounded like what monsters in the closet were made of.

“Jason,” he forced out through trembling lips.  Dead boys had no need of names.  A fresh wave of prickling crawled across his face, and everything went blurry again.

“Where are your parents, Jason?”  Oh, Batman was really pissed.  Luckily, Jason had no family for the monster to take it out on.

“Dead.”

Something changed in Batman’s posture, a tightening that some instinctive part of Jason recognized as anger.  There was nowhere to hide though, no kitchen table to crawl under with a dog to wait out the rage, and Jason just cowered against the brick wall.

“Who do you live with?”

“N-no one,” Jason stuttered.  Batman was determined to vent his fury.  Well, a little voice spoke up in his head, you did steal his tires.  What did you expect?

Batman was silent for a stretching moment, studying him.  Jason waited for his verdict, shivering despite his hoodie, cold with more than just the wind.  When Batman spoke, it was worse than all the horrible things Jason was imagining.

“I will take you to a social worker,” intoned the low growl, and Jason felt a new kind of terror rush through his veins.

“No,” he said automatically, his mind screaming in horror—at least with Six-Fingers he would just be a whore, he wouldn’t be a pet, he wouldn’t be owned—“Please—please don’t—”

“Jason—”

Jason was aware that he was interrupting, aware that this was Batman he was arguing with, but Jason was dead anyway, what more did he have to lose?  “Please,” he begged, dropping to his knees to plead for any mercy this nightmare possessed, “Please, just—just kill me, please, don’t—don’t give me to the traffickers, please, I’ll do anything.”  Jason had to break off to shudder through a sob, but before he could resume begging, Batman was moving.

The Terror of Gotham knelt in front of him to look Jason in the eyes.  The shock was enough to startle Jason into silence.

“Jason, I’m not going to kill you,” the growling voice said, “And I’m certainly not going to give you to traffickers.”

Jason…couldn’t tell which one of those was the lie.

“I know of a trusted foster parent that would give you a safe place to stay while I look into these traffickers,” Batman’s voice rang out firmly, “Would you like to stay with him?”

No, Jason would very much not like to stay with a buddy of Batman’s.  It was a trap, that much was obvious, but Jason had no choice but to walk straight into it.  This was Batman.

Jason nodded meekly, and took Batman’s proffered claw-tipped hand—slick with drying blood—to be pulled up to his feet.  “You can wait in the car while I put the tires back on,” Batman said, opening the door to reveal the darkened interior.

Jason wanted to protest, wanted to take his chances to run at the opposite end of the alley, wanted to wheedle his way into getting the tires himself so he could escape, but those glowing white eyes had transfixed him, and Jason’s fingers were sticky with someone’s blood, and he didn’t feel up to arguing.

He silently got in the car.  The tears didn’t stop.

[sporadicthingcollection]

Kiss, Marry, Kill: Part 2/2 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy saves your bacon and you continue to lie to yourself. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Explicit. Word Count: ~2.3k (of 5.3k) Warnings: Canon-typical violence, sexual fantasies, needles.

A/N: I was going to wait a few days to post this, build some anticipation, but y'all thirsty and I am a woman of the people.

---

Does Buggy feel a twinge of regret as he hauls ass out of Arlong Park? Sure, but not out of any sense of honor or decency or whatever. He just wishes he could have seen your lovely face one last time.

And he must have racked up some good karma recently, because he does indeed see your lovely face. It's curled up in a snarl as a fishman bears down upon you, but it's hot in a warrior princess kind of way.

You throw a right hook that collides with the fishman’s jaw, but no dice. He belts you right in the mouth. It lays you flat, but you take it like a champ and pop right back up.

He hates the idea of such a pretty face being marred in such an unfair fight. So he lends a hand.

Detaching said hand, he sends it floating toward the scuffle. A hard pinch on the ass throws the fishman off guard with a yelp.

You see the opening and slam him across the face once, twice, a third time. He collapses to the side. You waste no time jumping atop him, straddling his chest as you wallop his face into hamburger.

Still kinda hot.

Satisfied that he’s unconscious, you climb to your feet, resting your hands on your hips as you catch your breath. You run a hand through your hair, mussing it in a most handsome way.

Buggy saunters up behind you. Not particularly quietly, but you’re so winded you must not notice. He hovers his chin right over your shoulder. “Boo.”

You screech. Loudly. And whirl around and throw a haymaker that he only just catches with his remaining hand.

“Aw, c’mon,” he grumbles. “That any way to treat your coffee soulmate?”

You blink at him. “When’d you— How— What?”

He recalls his other hand. It reattaches with a little flourish. “Saved your life, babe. You're welcome.”

You look around, then frown. You give his chest a weak shove and stumble away. “I gotta… gotta find Usopp…!”

“Up-bup-bup. Not so fast.” He snags you by the back of the shirt and pulls you back. You whine in protest. "You owe me, Miss Sawbones.”

You scowl at him. “I didn’t ask for help.”

“No, but you got it. Which means…” He taps the tip of your nose. “You.” Tap. “Owe.” Tap. “Me.”

“Fine. Whatever. Cash it in later when I’m not in a rush.” You try to run again, and again he snatches you. “What’s your problem?!”

“My problem is that, if everything comes up Buggy, I’m never going to see you shitheels again.” He leans in close enough for his nose to bump yours. “But I don't like having unfinished business.”

Your eyes are so hot that steam might as well be coming out of your ears. “Just tell me what you want and fuck off.”

Finally, just what he wanted to hear. But what to ask for? You most certainly don't have money. And the map's a wash — even if you could get it, all your little friends would beat him black and blue. No, this has to be something that will get under your skin. Pull your pigtails a little. Hurt your pride.

Like a ray of divine inspiration, it hits him. He can't help but grin as he steps towards you. You take a step back. He matches it. Another step. Another. He backs you right into a tree.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing his finger down your jaw to tip your chin up. He pulls out his best imitation of that damn cook. "Give us a kiss, love."

Your face screws up in disgust. You slap his hand and try to jump away, only for him to grab your arm. Swinging you back around, he pulls you flush against him, his free hand on your waist. He revels in your warmth. He missed his body so much.

He puckers his lips. “C'mon, just a little smooch. Won’t even use tongue.”

You yank your arm from his grip and stare up at him. Grabbing him by the collar, you jerk him downwards. He braces himself for a slap. Or maybe a punch. That seems more your style.

But then you yank him forwards and his lips collide with yours and every joint, every tendon, every inch of sinew in his body locks up. It's all he can do not to topple into a thousand parts and pieces.

He's in shock. He never freezes. Not in the middle of a performance, not in the middle of a fight, and certainly not in the process of sweet talking a kiss out of a pretty little thing.

And yet, here he barely stands. Probably because it’s none of those things — there's no one around, the fight's over, and you're not a pretty little thing. You're a very beautiful grown woman.

His heart flutters against his ribs like a starved hummingbird barred from a flower. He wants more. He wants everything. He wants you.

Oh, this isn't good. It's never good when he catches feelings. Especially not this quickly. Never ends well for him.

...but maybe this time...

You pull away with a pop, but your grip on his waistcoat stays strong. Your mouth remains open, and you waggle your lower jaw, running your lip along your bottom teeth. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips.

He wants to lick them too.

You let out a yip as he swings you down and dips you low, one hand on your neck and the other hooked under your leg. You gaze up at him with wide eyes, twinkling like mischievous little stars.

He dives in for the encore before he can lock up again. Somewhere, some idiot sets off fireworks.

Oh, what a kiss. It’s the kind of kiss they write songs about. The kind that breaks fairy tale curses and turns frogs into princes. The kind that lonely sailors dream of, wishing on shooting stars for someone to love. Someone to laugh with, argue with, cry with, share a treasure with, share a bunk with, share a crown with. Someone to be his and his alone.

And then he feels it. A little nudge against his lips. He pulls away in surprise. “So much for no tongue.”

Smears of red lipstick and flakes of white greasepaint coat your lips. You lick them anyways. “I never agreed to that.” You throw your arms around his neck and force your way inside his mouth.

Now it's the sort of kiss that haunts the dreams of all men. Fiery. Slick. Dexterous. You stroke his teeth and nip his lips and fill his mouth in due measure. He can barely keep up.

The images come unbidden. You, lying across his bed, eyeing him like a tigress eyes her meal. Him, ripping your shirt off to get at those delicious breasts. You, bouncing on his cock, moaning like a whore. Him, flipping you over to fuck you more efficiently. You, begging and whining as you hit your peak. Him, climaxing so hard he sees lightning. You, resting your head against his chest as you drift off to sleep. Him, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair and whispering sweet little things that you won’t remember—

God damn, are all your kisses like this? Is this what you treat every man to? A lightning strike, a cool plunge, a searing brand, all in one? What kind of devil did you make a deal with to be so beguiling?

His head spins like a carousel as you pull away, from either shock or oxygen deprivation. Probably both.

Even more old paint covers your face. And you still don’t care. Your chest heaves and your gaze burns as you lick your chops. 

While his brain processes what just happened, his poor, stupid heart takes the wheel and shoots its shot. “Wanna come with?” he rasps.

The smolder in your eyes snuffs out and your brows scrunch. “Huh?”

“Ditch the punks. Join up with me. It'll be great."

You blink a few times, eyes darting around. “Why?”

Why? A kiss like that and you’re asking why? “Group of weirdos like us could always use haircuts.”

That marvelous sound leaves your lips. First that glorious snnnrrrk and then that clattery laughter. Your face lights up with glee, your pretty teeth on full display. “Sell me on it.”

That’s a good sign. “Your own cabin. An operating theater. More treasure than you can carry and the best barber chair it can buy.”

Your smile grows. You slip a finger below his chin as you gaze up through your eyelashes. “Sweeten the pot.”

Oh, that’s a dangerous look. His mouth starts writing checks his ego certainly won’t let him cash. “Your own act. Your name in lights. And you can kiss me like that whenever you want."

Those eyes turn downright smoky. You say in a low, low voice, "Just kiss you?"

He almost drops you. All the blood rushing to his cheeks stops dead in his arteries. Then it waterfalls all the way back down.

He jerks you upwards and presses his lips to your ear. “I’ll screw you to the wall every night and eat your cunt like a wild dog every morning. How’s that sound?”

A little hiccup of a gasp escapes you. “Sounds— Sounds good to me, Captain.”

He's ready to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour when something whistles through the air above him. He looks up. Pain explodes across his jaw, popping his head off and sending the rest of him sprawling.

It takes him a moment to shake the stars out of his eyes and get the blood back where it belongs. The sniper kid stands a few yards away, quaking in his boots as he loads up his slingshot. Next to him, you scramble to your feet, clutching your makeup-smeared hand.

"Nice timing," you say to Usopp. You pat his shoulder, leaving a streak of white.

“Don’t mention it.” He swallows. "What do we do about him?”

“Iunno. Either kill him or let him buzz off.” You grip your wrist. “Yeow, that hurt…”

Buggy recalls his head to his neck and gives it a good shake. How dare you? How dare you use him like that? Give him feelings only to play with them? What kind of heartless bitch are you?

He's got quite the eloquent insult prepared, but it vanishes as soon as his mouth catches up to his thoughts. “You...!”

He launches his fist at you, but the kid fires off a round from his slingshot. Buggy yelps as a dozen pinpoints of pain pierce his palm, and he recalls it back. There are, in fact, a dozen pins buried deep in his hand. Ow.

He looks up, but the kid is speeding away. You're close behind, but you do glance back. He swears he sees a glint of remorse in your dark eyes, but you're gone moments after.

Alone. Again. After getting his emotions kicked around like a naughty puppy.

Fuck this. Fuck Rubber Boy. Fuck the sniper kid.

And, most of all, fuck you.

—-

You're no good at art, but you're the only person around here with steady hands, a sterile needle, and a willingness to inflict pain. Thus, redoing Nami's tattoo falls to you.

"So how was it?" she asks.

You're so focused on tracing the design onto her arm that you almost don't respond. "Not too bad, if I do say so myself. Might have to adjust the angle."

"Not that. The other thing."

The tangerine connects to the tangerine leaf. The tangerine leaf connects to the pinwheel spoke. “Yes. Of course. The other thing.” 

“Heard you kissed the clown.”

The pinwheel spoke connects to the other spoke aaaand the pen slips from your fingers. Fortunately for you, it doesn’t screw up your careful tracing. “We’re gonna need a new sniper when I’m done keelhauling the old one.”

Nami laughs. It’s not bitter anymore, which you’re thankful for. Girl’s been through a lot. “C’mon, how was it?”

You scoff. “Sudden. Sloppy. Tasted like greasepaint and self-loathing.”

You leave out that you actually like all that. Surprise. Spit. Theatrics and desperation. What can you say? You’re a dumb bitch with a bad taste for pathetic men. You accepted this about yourself a long, long time ago.

If Nami picks up on your deception, she doesn’t let it show. “Thanks for taking one for the team, doc.”

Taking one for the team. Yeah. That’s what it was. A distraction. A diversion. You didn’t manipulate a madman’s feelings for you. He didn’t read you like a giant neon sign. Nor did you feel anything in that kiss. Not in any of them.

Certainly not the first time — that was impulse. Nor the second time — that one was thrust upon you. And the third time — brain was preoccupied with stalling for time so your cooch took over for a moment.

A moment that almost led to you abandoning your friends for a psycho, your conscience reminds you.

You shake the guilt off. “I’m not a doctor,” you mutter, “and let us never speak of this again.”

You swear she stares right into your soul. That she knows what you’ve done. But she nods. “Speak about what?”

It takes a few hours, a few curses, and a few tears, but the tattoo comes out great, if you do say so yourself.

And the entire time, you’re distracted by thoughts of a psycho with a very persuasive tongue.

---

Never had you on my mind

Now you're there all the time

Never knew what I missed until I I kissed ya

---

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

[radioisntdead]

Eeeeee oki, so I just finished watching boy swallows universe (an absolute masterpiece) and I was wondering what if the reader was like sold drugs or just did bad stuff for money for their family, like they grew up pretty fricking poor and did whatever they could for the extra cash (which is why they're in hell). They die somehow, land in hell and get treated like absolute dirt because they're small and they're wearing plain ass clothes, not powerful at all. Then comes Susan, and she's like "I'm so sick of the pathetic youth today, I'm taking you home with me" and just teaches them how to be proper and less shy and stuff, and to tear people with their teeth (yhey never got used to the whole eating people thing, Susan rolled her eyes and asked if she was a vagitarian or whatever it was called) and this reader hardly talks to anyone but Susan. Then they get introduced to Rosie and Alastor and it's just Susan simultaneously boasting about them telling them to stand up straight

Good evening my dear! This is definitely one of my favorite requests that I have gotten,

I finished boy swallows universe while writing this and I cried, I'm trying to convince my best friend to watch it now, it was very good.

I'm imagining the reader to be around the size of Niffty, maybe a little taller?

Susan's grandkid

Susan & reader

WARNINGS!!

Drug usage, child neglect, cannibalism, murder etc etc Susan kinda treats you as a stray pet in the beginning, not proofread so apologies for any spelling mistakes!

You died young, tragically young, you died in the winter, cornered away curled into a ball, clutching your stomach, wearing a old thin sweater that your older brother gave you, overalls, flimsy socks with a couple of holes in them, and worn down sneakers, you were beaten and bruised, you wanted your mom to hold you and tell you that everything was alright but she wasn't coming,

Did she know where you were? How would she react knowing her kid was gone?

You were a good kid, you just made a couple of bad decisions for your family, you mimicked what you saw,

No one ever suspected the kid with a babyface was dealing, getting involved in shady stuff and horrible, horrible people who couldn't care less that you couldn't even drink yet.

You woke up with brimstone and sulfur around and a dingy old sign saying welcome to hell, It was unfair.

You wondered around aimlessly, you were small enough that most folks didn't notice you at first, and those that did well, they either ignored you completely, tried to kick or spit on you, or something else you didn't want to know.

You stumbled upon a mirror, you looked...

different from when you were alive, alot shorter, you kept the same clothes you died in though, it was a struggle the first few days but you managed to stay alive and relatively unharmed, you always were resourceful.

Eventually you ended up on the cusp of cannibal town, your overalls were covered in dirt and whatever else, you were curled up against to some wall when she found you, in all her old woman glory.

"Good grief youth today is pathetic, how'd you even get down here you little shit?" she tsked as she bent down and picked you up by your overalls, you barely had a chance to react before she put you on her hip and continued her way home.

She didn't put you down as she entered her home claiming that you'd get mud on her floors,

She filled up her bathtub with warm water and bubbles, she took off your shoes and plopped you right in the tub, she put a glob of shampoo into your hair and foamed it up like one would bathe a pet.

She left the bathroom as you looked around the bathroom , confused on why this random old lady just picked you up like a soggy stray dog and dunked you into warm water, and put soap in your hair.

You weren't complaining by any means but you were caught off-guard.

She came back within a few minutes carrying children's clothing like the other cannibals wore, she washed your hair and your back, scrubbing off the grime, she dried you off and put the clothes on you, the next few hours were a blur, she picked you up, sat you at a table and placed what looked to be part of a raw arm on your plate.

You stared at it while she went ahead and dug it,

She raised an eyebrow, "you one of those vegetable people?"

You shook your head, poking at the arm slice

"Speak up, are you mute?"

You look up at her, "No ma'am."

"Speak up you sound like a mouse, now use those teeth of yours and eat."

You simply nodded and opened your mouth to dig into the arm,

You'd rather not eat what you assumed to be another person but you hadn't eaten in days and well, it was rude to refuse a free meal, right?

After the meal Susan handed you a toothbrush and told you to brush, giving you a set of pajamas to change into before leaving you to do a night routine,

Once done she picked you up and tucked you into a bed, turning off the lights and closing the door leaving you in pitch black darkness.

Living with Susan wasn't particularly easy but it was better then when you were alive, you didn't have to worry where your next meal came from, or maybe you did considering Susan had a diet of sinner meat, you didn't have to worry about not making ends meet, about the possibility of the folks you dealt too coming for you,

You did miss your family terribly though, you wondered if they missed you, or if they've found your corpse yet, maybe you were permanently put as a missing person, maybe you were chopped up into pieces,You didn't want to know.

Susan would teach you how to properly eat someone, you already had sharp teeth so you were a quick learner in that regard [Although you did prefer normal food]

You would cower behind her and she'd grab you by your shoulder and move you Infront of her, telling you to stand up straight, smacking your lower back with her cane if needed, some days She'd place a book on your head and have you practice walking around with it to correct your posture.

You wouldn't talk much at first but soon became a chatterbox with Susan, and mostly only Susan, keeping talking to others at a minimum unless Susan made you, she paraded you around cannibal town getting you used to the tight-knit community.

You soon went from a rather timid and frankly weak child to a more confident person, Susan wasn't usually seen without you skipping along behind her, eventually once she deemed you as proper she took you to Rosie's Emporium to introduce you to her and obviously get some treats,

"This is [Name] I got them off the streets and I made em' into a proper member of society, [Name] stand up straight, say hello"

Susan said moving you to the front where Rosie was,

"Hello."

Rosie immediately adored you, after all you were small enough to put in her pocket, she leaned down to shake your hand, and in that time

Susan proceeded to accidentally left you at the emporium and Rosie saw her chance and took it,

"Well aren't you adorable! Let Auntie Rosie spoil you, okay?"

Within seconds you were sat in a comfy chair with a plate of cannibalistic desserts infront of you and Rosie across from you, chatting until Susan came back for you two hours later.

She knew she left you after like five minutes she just didn't want to make the trip back and let Rosie babysit you.

Another time she took you to Rosie's Emporium the infamous radio demon was there, and while you didn't particularly know much about overlords and the like since you mainly stuck with Susan, or in the safe parts of cannibal town, you did know that overlords were more or less dangerous,

Susan did not care though and immediately started insulting the radio demon,

"Why don't you have a wife yet? Do you not like woman? Then why don't you have a husband then??"

"Susan, I believe that's none of your-"

"It's because you don't brush your fucking teeth isn't it,"

"Susan-"

"You probably blind all the ladies looking like Rudolph's nose"

"Excuse me?"

You quickly intervene before Susan ends up being the radio man's dinner, Alastor tilts his head at you and bends down,

"And who is this Little one?"

Susan moves you Infront of her and puts her cane between you and Alastor,

"My grandchild, they're very well-mannered unlike you now get away before you influence them to listen to your modern jazz music"

"̵̢̯̫͕̀̀̓̕M̷̧̧͎̬̹̦͚̺̼̳͊͒̽̌̅͑́̕͘ỹ̶̱̮͙̕ ̴͇̹̣͙̖̉̽̏̊͜m̸̡̧̱̲̱͔͉̲̫͋́̄̎̄̔̈̈́͠ö̵̢̢̙͍̩̩̮̺́̃̿̎ḑ̵̰̪͎̀̿̔͊̒͛̄ͅͅͅę̸̪́ř̴̛̳̥̭̼̌͊̄̉̑̽̇̚n̴͕̥̗̻͕̊̅͐̒̂̌͆̚̚͜͠ ̵̛̪̹̔̈́̈́͂͝͝Ẃ̸̽̓̈́̾͂ͅH̵̨̢̯̳̗̦͕̭̯̑̈͆̇̚̕̚Ḁ̸͍̱̩̠̼͚̾̉̚T̵̥̠͓͛͊"̸̛͎̼̺́̔̀̎͛̀̈̕͠

Thankfully Rosie soon appeared before Alastor and Susan could get into a brawl,

She handed you a lil' box of treats and sent you on your way with Susan.

A very polite way to get kicked out in your opinion,

The next time you see Alastor he brings Niffty, trying to get her to influence you enough to drive Susan to insanity.

It backfired.

You, on the rare occasions you roam outside of cannibal town you see someone you may have known during life, you usually don't interact with them, but sometimes they recognize you too, they give a look of mixed disbelief, pity and guilt or just indifference, you made similar decisions to them.

You saw a member of your family, trying to sell something on the streets one time, you went up to them with the confidence of Susan talking to Alastor,

You know they recognized you, you may look different but you were still you, just better then before.

Their face dropped seeing you, filled with guilt and shame, you weren't supposed to be down here, of all places, you should've gotten to live to be old and wrinkly, shaking their head they shoo'd you away in what you assumed was a way to tell you to move on, make the best of your afterlife.

"I don't know you, now shoo' go home."

When you got home to Susan making cannibal meatloaf, nagging you about getting home in a timely manner as you take off your shoes and place them by the door, it gives you a somewhat nostalgic feeling,

You may never seeing the majority of your family again, after all maybe they're in heaven or below with you,

They'll always be your family and while they weren't perfect but they loved you, and you loved them, and you always will even if you were apart.

And now you had a new family member, Your Grandma Susan,

And you loved her, and while she didn't outwardly say it, you knew through her actions of making you a scarf, bringing you a bowl of peeled or cut fruit, or something else, she loved you too.

good evening folks! Hope you enjoyed this, I'm making my way through the requests now so tune on in later for those!

[dickmedowndc]

When Stars Die - Conner "Kon" Kent x Reader

Word Count: 1,868

Summary: There was always the knowledge that someone bigger, someone worse could come – they could descend upon the Earth and the best line of defense would always be the heroes. But it was hard to bow down to the knowledge that they were not invincible. You had the chance to sleep next to one almost every night, and it seemed like almost nothing could stop him. Nothing could touch him; nothing could keep him from you. Until it does. Until the world is ending and you can do nothing to stop him from being taken from you. 

Notes: Requested by @/Anoymous (Tumblr). P A I N. I was told to make this one hurt. Somewhat based off the Apokolipse War movie, but not directly from it – this is also an older Superboy, as all my writing use adult/young adult versions.

…★…

”Mm, good morning, my star.” you hum, rolling over to throw one lazy arm over the torso of your lover. 

The early morning light has already caused him to stir, but he only whines in response and tries to bury his face deeper into the pillow, determined to put the day off for a while longer. “It can be a good afternoon if we wait a few more hours.” 

“It could be, but I was promised breakfast this morning and I still want to cash in on that.” 

He groans once more before shuffling over onto his side so he can look you in the eye – though he seems to be having a hard time keeping his own open. Nevertheless, Conner still has a soft look on his face, with that same sweet smile, as he gazes at you. “You’re lucky I can’t say no to you.” 

“So, is this a good time or a bad time to remind you that you still have chores to do today?” You grin, wide as the cheshire cat before sneaking just out of his reach when he makes a half-hearted grab for you in retaliation. 

“I’m gonna burn your food.” he swears, pushing himself to his feet before stretching, standing on the side of the bed opposite from you. 

“You don’t have the heart to burn my food,” you stop, scrunching your face before making a sound of concern, “at least on purpose.” 

“I thought we weren’t going to mention that again?” He says, moving over to you sluggishly, just so he can drape himself across your shoulders. 

“And I didn’t, technically, say a word about it.” you remark, poking your finger to his nose before pulling away from his embrace – no matter how much you wanted to remain. You wanted even more to get to the kitchen and watch him cook with that silly apron you had bought him last year. From behind you can hear him reluctantly stumbling after you with little more than a whine falling from his lips. 

“You get what you get this morning.” 

You snort at that before giving a funny bow. “Of course, chef.” You take your seat, moving the mail he had left at the table away so you can watch him. “Do you have anything planned today?” 

Kon glanced back at you as he took some of the pans from the drying rack. “I don’t think I do, but.” 

His words were cut off with a thunderous rumble in the distance and the sky outside turning a dark red and orange. You both froze where you were, sharing a worried glance with one another before making your way to the window. 

Dotting the sky above, in the distance leading to Metropolis were scattered arrays of war ships. None that you recognized from stories, but you shuttered as more came through boom tubes and filled the sky. Earth had faced its fair share of attacks over the years, and despite the win that the heroes brought home, it never erased the damage done. With the number of vessels above, it was going to be extensive. 

Avoiding the damage had been one reason Kon had wanted the two of you to stay in the countryside – to keep you away from the more populated areas likely to be targeted first, as seemed to be the case currently. 

“Get to the cellar,” he demanded, eyes hard and voice stern as he placed one hand on the small of your back. “Generator is ready if you need it, I wrote down the channel you need for the radio if it comes to that. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.” 

It was like second nature, as terrifying as that was. To be ready to hide at a moment's notice. To lock yourself inside until your evening star returned to you with the news that all was okay. You were always terrified, deep down, that one day it wasn’t going to be him opening those cellar doors to pull you out. Or that bad news would come to you over the radio. Still, you follow him out the door silently, ready to jump at any sound, or at the gentle touch he places on your arm. “Stay safe,” you beg, before placing a kiss to his lips that lasts a heartbeat before he’s nudging you underground to safety. You know he waits for you to lock yourself inside because with your ear to the door you can hear when he takes off. 

There is a stone settled in your stomach, the fear and apprehension weighing too heavy on you. You have enough reserves to last you for a time, medicines you could get a hold of, and well water you could access if needed. You had learned from last time when the world had been ending, after the pair of you had moved in together, and Kon had worried when he had been away for days unable to reach you. At least like this he knew you would be okay for some time, and you knew it took one more worry away so he could focus on his task. 

Shutting the secondary door he had insisted on, locking it down, you make your way further inside. He had been kind enough to help you set up a reading area to keep you occupied, the houses' electricity still running through and keeping the lamps on until it would no longer be able. Then you would have to go with the lamps or the generator for lights. But you hoped it would not come to that for some time, if at all. Instead, all you could do was wait. 

Times in the past Kon had been lucky. Sometimes the world would just be ending for the day – and while the damage was nothing to scoff at, there was time and chance to rebuild. Others, fights had raged on for days. The League had gotten stronger, recruited new heroes, new abilities, but sometimes it just wasn’t enough to end a fight against an army quickly. And to Kon’s horror, as soon as he had looked out, he had recognized the battleships above his home as Darkseid’s legions. 

One of the only things driving him is knowing you'll be safe. His first goal is to reach as many of his teammates as possible, as quickly as he can. Darkseid had moved so carefully this time that to the best of Kon’s knowledge, no one had even known he was gearing up to strike once more. Or he had already taken out any members that might have been able to warn Earth. Neither was an appealing option, but they had handled him before. He just hoped they could do so quickly this time. 

This, Kon realized after a month of fighting, was a wish that fell only on deaf ears. Darkseid had come more than prepared for the League and anyone else brazen enough to stand against him. The paradooms had descended on the Earth like a plague, wiping out and stealing away anyone they found. Cities had been burned to ash and leveled in days, scores deceased. The League, or what little was now left of them, had needed to draw back almost immediately when their main fighters had more than met their match. Ambushed almost as soon as they had stepped foot on the ship to face him, they were overwhelmed. Some were killed, some were kept and altered like battle trophies, and some were still missing. 

Kon himself had barely managed to escape, sustaining his own fair share of injuries in the process. And even then, with the threat of bleeding out, he was more terrified of the idea that you could be in harm’s way. That a paradoom could have found you. The consistently returning thought had driven him into a sleepless fueled haze, driving him to beg one of his teammates to reach out to you on the radio. Before they made their next stand. 

You had been waiting, day by day and trying to gauge what was going on outside without going up. Limiting generator use, limiting light, rationing food as much as you could. So, when you had been half asleep only to hear the radio crackle to life with your partner's voice you had nearly cried on the spot. The radio had been rigged so you could respond, and you nearly fell over yourself in a mad dash to do exactly that, on a one-track mission to relieve the desperation you could hear in his voice. 

The audio was patchy at best, blanketed in a layer of white noise, but it was enough to hear his calls for you. 

“I’m here! I’m here, Kon. Right here.” You stammered out, still barely in the seat before you had begun to respond. 

On his end, Kon nearly collapsed, overwhelmed by a brief sense of relief. “I don’t have a lot of time – we’re going to attack the terraforming machines tomorrow – and I can’t talk much. I just needed to know that you were okay.” 

You breathe in a sigh of relief, it’s enough for now to know that he is alive. But you would be a liar to say it doesn’t kill your heart not having him next to you. You're lonely, and the world is on fire around you or in rubble. It’s terrifying. But your rock is needed out there, so you can’t be selfish and beg him to come back. Especially when you know that he might give in and do just that, or he will at least consider it. So, you put on a brave face, collect yourself, and try to keep your voice steady as you speak to him. “I’m okay – I've stayed down here. Nobody has been by, and I haven’t heard anything outside.” 

“Promise me you’ll stay there until I come to get you?” 

It breaks your heart to hear him like this. “I promise you.” 

Kon can barely stop himself from crying, but he can still see the motions to get off the radio, so he chokes it down to end the conversation. “Stay safe, love, okay?” 

You nod, forgetting for the moment he can’t see you before you risk speaking. “I will. Just make sure you come back to me, okay?” 

“I always do.” The words sit heavy on his tongue as he speaks them, terror evident, but he hopes you don’t notice. 

You do. 

You always do. But you don’t mention it this time. Concerned that you’ll break if you say anything else, instead you sit silently by the radio, hoping that tomorrow you’ll hear his voice or see his face one more time. 

But tomorrow comes, and the burning light of the day takes every star with it. It even takes yours – not in the form of light hiding them away, or a scarce cloud. But the sun shines a light down on your evening star as he is snuffed out by gnashing teeth and jagged claws, in overwhelming force. Leaving you in the dark of the cellar, alone with no more than your rations and worries while you wait for your guiding light to return. 

[stanleypinesgf]

Falling for Mystery - Chapter Four

Falling for Mystery Masterlist Warnings: No warnings for this chapter, but there is some more themes of anxiety so please be mindful if you're sensitive to that, I hope you enjoy! Please note: this is a slow burn fic with eventual smut and mature themes, 18+ only and please check warnings at the start of chapters! ALSO idk how long I'll maintain a daily posting schedule as I have a 9-5 too LOL but will try my best!! TYSM for all the support so far!!

w/c: 1,863

The next afternoon, I found myself standing outside the Mystery Shack once again, feeling a little more put together than the last time. Another night at the motel rewarded me with a half-decent night's sleep, a hot shower and a morning of debating if I should even come back. It was one thing to stay in town because I liked it, but staying an extra night for a man I’d only known for a few hours? That was a whole different matter.

Pushing my anxious thoughts down, I’d decided to wear the Mystery Shack t-shirt I bought the day before—it was surprisingly soft and, if I’m honest, kind of cute. It fit me in a way that flattered my figure, the quirky logo printed across my chest as a reminder of the oddball charm this place held. It made me smile. I’d made a little extra effort by putting on some makeup and running a brush through my hair. Not that I was trying to impress anyone, but... something about this town made me want to feel more like myself again, or maybe someone new. Someone ready to start fresh.

A small group of tourists stood around, murmuring among themselves as they waited for the infamous Mr. Mystery to begin his tour. I was part of the group now, blending in with the rest of them, but I couldn’t help but feel a little out of place. The others were here for the spectacle, for the "freak show" charm of the Mystery Shack, in pairs or groups chattering amongst themselves. I was still trying to figure out why I was here, feeling a little more on edge than before.

The door creaked open and out walked Stan, the same confident grin plastered across his face. His eyes scanned the crowd briefly before landing on me, and for a split second, I could’ve sworn his expression shifted—something like surprise or recognition—before he slipped back into his well-practiced showman routine. Seeing Stan again seemed to settle some of my nerves; a familiar face can make all the difference and I couldn’t help but notice how easily he commanded attention with his grin and bravado. It was... kind of charming actually, not that I’d ever admit it. He seemed to have the knack for making me feel right at home. 

“Alright, folks!” he bellowed, clapping his hands together and pulling me from my thoughts. “Step right up and prepare to have your minds blown by the wonders of the world-famous Mystery Shack! You’re not gonna find exhibits like these anywhere else! Guaranteed!”

His voice had that same magnetic pull, full of bravado and charm, like he was selling something much bigger than this shabby tourist attraction. The group was hanging on his every word, and despite myself, I found that I was too. Something about him—about the way he ran this place—kept pulling me in. As he launched into his first over-the-top explanation of the ‘world’s only six-legged beaver,’ I couldn’t help but catch his eye again. His gaze lingered for just a moment, his grin turning a little more mischievous. Maybe it was the shirt, or maybe it was something else, but I had a feeling this tour was going to be far from ordinary.

Despite the quirky charm of the Shack, a thought kept nagging at the back of my mind: I needed a job. Whether I was going to stay in Gravity Falls or not, my cash was running out, and while the Rusty Oak Motel was cheap enough, I couldn’t afford to stay there much longer. A part of me had hoped I wouldn’t have to think about money for a little while longer—maybe I’d stumble upon something miraculous. But life, as always, had other plans.

As the tour ended and the tourists dispersed, I found myself circling back to the front counter, where Stan was adjusting a display of cheap tourist trinkets with a cocky grin. After he rang up the final patron, I leaned against the counter, watching him reorganize some keychains for a moment before sighing.

"You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s anywhere in this town hiring, would you?" I asked, half-joking. "I’m running a little low on cash."

Stan’s eyes flicked toward me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to laugh. But instead, he leaned back, one eyebrow raised. 

"You lookin' for work, huh?" He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, as it so happens, I might know a place that's in need of some help. No experience required. The pay? Well, let’s just say it’s… negotiable."

I tilted my head, unsure if he was serious or just messing with me. "Wait, are you offering me a job at this place?"

"Hey, hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it!" Stan shot me a smirk. "The Mystery Shack is a thriving business. Just yesterday, we had, uh..." He paused, clearly pulling a number from thin air. “Fourteen tourists come through here. People are dying to see our quality attractions, but I could use a hand keeping the place in tip-top shape. You know, help sell the dream to these schmucks."

I couldn’t help but laugh. "And you said the pay is negotiable? Give me the numbers, Mr Mystery.”

Stan’s grin widened. "How about you take the spare room in the back. Cozy little spot. Maybe a little spending cash on the side, if you’re lucky. And please,“ he stressed, “call me Stan.”

I paused, weighing the offer. It wasn’t like I had many options. A bed and a roof over my head sounded better than sleeping in my car or paying for the motel, and honestly, the idea of working here had a strange appeal. Sure, it was a tourist trap, but something about the Shack—and its strange, hustler owner—made me curious. Maybe this was just the kind of fresh start I needed.

"Alright, deal," I said, extending a hand.

Stan shook it firmly, his grin still plastered on his face. "You won’t regret it, kid. You’re lookin’ at the start of a very lucrative partnership. Welcome to the Mystery Shack, where every day is an adventure... or a con. It depends on how you look at it." he mused with a lighthearted shrug. As I stood there, hand still hovering after the handshake, the weight of my decision hit me. Trusting a man I barely knew, in a town that didn’t even seem real? Maybe I was crazier than I thought. A quiet voice in the back of my mind warned me to be cautious, but I pushed it aside, there was no point letting old fears hold me back any longer.

After sealing the deal, Stan led me to the spare room he’d mentioned. To call it cozy was generous. The walls were wood-paneled, the floorboards creaked underfoot and the single window let in a dim sliver of sunlight. The old double bed was made haphazardly, covered by a patchwork quilt of mismatched fabrics. It was faded, yet soft to the touch, like something hand-stitched years ago. There were a few odd trinkets scattered around—a chipped vase, a stack of yellowing books, and an ancient radio—but nothing that made it feel like home. Still, it was a place to stay, and right now, that was more than I’d had in weeks aside from dingy motels. I tossed my bag onto the bed and took a deep breath, the scent of pine and old wood filling the air. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine—for now, at least.

"Not bad, huh?" Stan said, leaning against the doorframe. "You think this room’s got character? You should see the other one. Let’s just say, you lucked out."

I smirked. "I believe you. Well, thanks. It’s better than the back seat of my car."

Stan gave a short nod, as if he understood what that was like. "Get some rest, but don’t get too comfortable. Tomorrow’s your first day, and I’m gonna need you bright and early. Got a lot to teach you if you’re gonna make it here."

"Looking forward to it," I said, only half sarcastically.

With that, Stan gave me a wink and left me alone in the room. I flopped down onto the bed, letting out a long sigh as it creaked, the old wooden frame protesting as if unused to guests. It wasn’t where I’d pictured myself when I left Portland, but something about this place felt... right. Even if I couldn’t explain it yet.

I rolled onto my back, staring up at the wooden ceiling, its rough, knotted surface illuminated by the dim light filtering through the small window. The faint scent of pine and dust hung in the air, mingling with the distant creak of the floorboards beneath me. A sense of both uncertainty and hope swirled inside me, much like the shadows shifting along the walls. Maybe I was crazy for accepting a job from a man I didn’t even know, in a town that seemed to elude the outside world. Something about this place and Stan’s demeanor made me feel... safe. For now, at least.

My eyes wandered to the small collection of forgotten trinkets scattered around the room—each one worn and dust-covered, like relics from another time. A chipped vase stood crooked on the corner table, filled with dried-out flowers, their petals brittle and gray. Stacks of yellowing books lined the shelves, their titles barely visible under layers of grime. They felt like pieces of someone else’s story, remnants of lives that had passed through here before me.

I’d spent so long tethered to plans that never really felt like mine. Here, in this strange little town, I finally had the chance to break away from all of that. Maybe I wasn’t just finding a job or a place to stay. Maybe I was finding something deeper.

Still, something about Gravity Falls nagged at the back of my mind, a strange pull I couldn’t quite explain. The town had an odd way of making everything feel slightly... off. I wasn’t sure what I’d gotten myself into. The Mystery Shack had its charms, but it also felt like it was hiding secrets just out of reach. I couldn’t shake the feeling that working here would be more than just selling cheap trinkets and giving tours.

The longer I stared at the ceiling, the more I felt something shift inside me, like the tension I’d been carrying for months was loosening, unraveling with every passing second. There was a freedom in the unknown, in stepping off the path I’d been following for so long. The weight of expectations, of plans and responsibilities, seemed to fade into the wood grain above me.

I hadn’t planned on staying in Gravity Falls for more than a day or two, but now, here I was, about to start a job at a tourist trap run by a man who was equal parts charming and gruff. The air was still, almost expectant, as though the room itself was holding its breath alongside me.

Tomorrow was uncertain, but for the first time in ages, I wasn’t afraid of the unknown, I was ready for it. Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[starzioo]

𝐁.𝐙 ❦ 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍.

This is a Blaise Zabini x Y/n one-shot. No warning just fluff. ^.^ This is one of the first one-shots I ever actually wrote and tbh I still rlly like it. pls don’t judge all the typos if there is any lol. I converted all the galleons to USD because it was confusing for me lol. T.T

Word count: 2622

You're a Pure Blood, Slytherin in your 5th year at Hogwarts. Growing up you always had a fancy for card games. You were a natural at card games, you were always able to tell if someone was bluffing. At first, you started gambling with food. Then that led to you gambling on bigger things. Money, Homework, but the thing you never gambled was yourself. You didn't want your fate being held in a card game. The odds were just too risky. During your 4th year at Hogwarts Draco had come to you with a proposal.

~FLASHBACK TO YOUR 4TH YEAR~

You had just finished your notes for Snape during potions. You had felt a paper ball hit the back of your head. You turn around seeing Draco gesturing for you to look at the paper ball on the ground. Looking around making sure Snape wasn't looking you carefully reached for the paper.

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝟏𝟏:𝟎𝟎 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭...

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨.

You turn back around to see him looking at you straight in the eyes, he nodded then went back to his notes. You brushed it off, seeing potions was your last class of the day when you got back to your dorm you took a nap.

~TIME SKIP~

When you woke up you hadn't realized how long you were sleeping. Looking at your watch it was already 10p.m you hurried and put on some sweatpants and a Slytherin sweater. You put your wand in your pocket incase Malfoy tried anything. You and the other Slytherins weren't close but everyone knows you well enough. Heading up to the tower you realized you were 20 minutes early. You sat there for awhile until you heard footsteps coming up the tower.

"Hey, so I have a proposal for you."

"Hm?"

"You know how you like cards?"

"Yeah..."

"What if we started a club..."

"What kinda club"

"One where we play cards of course." Draco says with a smirk.

"Hm...sure I'm down. Wait isn't gambling against the rules?"

"Well no shit. That's exactly why the club is secret. Only Slytherins will be allowed in. Me and you will be the owners of the club. 25% of all the money bet on the games will be profit for us. I just need a couple hundred from you to get the stuff we need."

"A couple hundred? I have some cash stashed in my dorm let's go."

*Back at your dorm you gave him the money*

"Ight this better be good Malfoy, if you don't make this cash back ima be pissed."

"Damn don't worry bout' it I got you."

"Get outa here before someone sees you."

~BACK TO PRESENT TIME~

"How are you so good at this Y/n!" Flint said getting mad you won the previous 4 games. "I'm just a natural" you said shrugging. Winning games against people like him were easy. They don't know how to keep a poker face. Even when they try they are easy to read. The only person in the club who was even close to being as good as you was Blaise. You've never played against him, but from hearing around the club you knew he had a fair chance of winning against you. You weren't about to let him win either breaking your perfect streak of 456-0 you've won every game you ever played in the club. "Well anyone else wanna play?" You said smirking shuffling a deck.

After playing a few games of Poker and Speed with Crabbe, Goyle, and Adrian. You started to feel bored. These games were too easy to win. You wanted to play a game that would make you actually work for a win. 'Eh I can work on that later' you thought. You decide to go look around the common room and see how the other games we going. Most people who even were in the club came from wealthy families making you and Draco's earnings very profitable, so it was only courtesy you saw how much everyone was betting. You happened to stumble upon a game of Poker between Draco and Blaise over by the fireplace. You had a view of Blaise's cards. He had a Royale flush, your eyes widened a little you noticed Draco was looking at you; so you decided to help Blaise out a bit and you made an iffy face. Draco saw and smirked, shuffling and placing his cards in different places. Other spectators from around the game can bet on who's going to win too, you decided to throw in 90 on Blaise's account just to make things a little interesting. Pansy who was the dealer told them to show their hands. Blaise won of course considering he had the best possible hand. He took his cash and gave a light smile to you. In return, you winked back. "Well shit. That makes his score 456-21 now." Draco said defeated "I can't wait for you and Blaise to finally play each other Pansy said. "Well what'ya know I'm in a good mood tonight why not." You said with confidence. As you approached Blaise you saw people staring Blaise was the only person you have never played a game against. "Hey, Blaise?" You said looking slightly up, he was taller than you by a few inches which did make you intimidated at first. "Hm?" He said eyeing you up and down slightly. "Would you care for a game?" His eyes lighted up a bit, "Sure..." he smirked.

Now sitting at the round table surrounded by people, Pansy was shuffling a deck. "Tonight we will be playing 5 card poker, aces wild, five rounds. Sound good?" You said lightly to Blaise as you played with a betting chip. "What are we betting?" He asked, his voice was deep, cold, it could make you melt. "Hm...I'm feeling bold tonight how about 200 a chip? Sound good?" You said with a smile. Blaise's eyebrows furrowed a bit. "Yes...but just what are you playing at Y/n?" He said. "Just feeling good tonight, nothing more." You said with you head resting on your hand. "How many chips would you like to start out with?" Pansy asked. "I'll take 50 please" you said. "And 40 for me." Blaise said sternly. Pansy then started dealing out ten cards, five for each of us. You look up at Blaise to see him already studying your face. You pick up your cards and study them for awhile. "Everyone please place your bets on the game, Draco will be coming around with a bag please put the money in there. Blaise, Y/n, you can either fold or place your bets. Starting with Y/n." Pansy said. You took a moment to think 'I have a pig. None of my cards line up maybe I should take the high road, make him fold.' You take all 50 of your chips and put them in the middle of the table. "All in." You say staring directly into Blaise's eyes. Pansy pauses for a second, you hear whispers around you. Talking about 'who just has that much money to throw around?' You couldn't care less about the amount of money you have. Most of it was earned from the club. Pansy clears her throat, "Blaise, Y/n currently has $10,000 in the pot. You can either bet or fold." Pansy says lightly. "I'll fold." He says, throwing his cards down. "I had a pig anyways." You say smirking, taking all your chips back.

The next three rounds were tedious. Blaise had won 2 and you had won 2. "We are now heading into the final round that will determine who will win the game overall. Everyone please-" "Pansy? I have a rather special request..." Blaise says looking at you in the eye. "If I win I get to have a date with Y/n."

Your eyes widened at the suggestion. "That will only be in place if the other player accepts. Y/n do you accept this offer?" Pansy says with a questioning face. "Hm...I will only accept on the terms if I win; he has to pay me double what's been betted during the game." You say trying to figure out what he was thinking. "Blaise, do you accept these terms?" "I do." You hear people whispering and gossiping about the new conditions of the game. After Pansy dealer our cards she said "Everyone can now place their bets on who will win this game..." You see there are more people around you than when you first started the game. More and more people started betting. Knowing no matter what you would get your money back you felt good. You didn't care about the money though. You cared that Blaise wanted a date with you and not money? It confused you, but you were intrigued. Intrigued to know the reasoning behind why he was wanting a date with you. "It is now time for the showdown. Y/n how much would you like to start off the betting with?" Pansy asked. You looked at your cards again you knew no matter what you were going to win but you didn't show it. You placed 20 of your chips in the middle of the table. "Y/n has put $4,000 in the pot. What do you wish to bet Blaise?" Everyone was watching intensely. "Call." Blaise then puts up 20 of his chips too. "Y/n you can raise or fold. The pot is now $8,000" "Raise." You put up your last 30 chips. "Blaise, the pot is now $14,000. What do you wish to do" "Call." He says putting up 30 chips, smirking seeing you have no more chips left. "Y/n the pot is at $20,000. You have no more chips left, you can buy more or stop the betting, and go on with the game." "Pansy if it wasn't too much trouble could you get me 100 chips please?" You said nonchalantly. Everyone went silent. "O-Ofcourse" she said giving you 10 stacks of chips. "So where we're we at?" You said. "Continue betting or fold." "Raise, all in." You said pushing every last chip infront of you. Looking straight at Blaise from around all the chips. "Blaise the pot is now at $40,000 what do you wish to do?" "Fold." He said looking at you with a poker face. When you both dropped your cards everyone was shocked to see your royale flush, while as Blaise had a straight flush. "Y/n is the victor of this game; please go to Draco for the money." Said Pansy. Both you and Blaise stood from your chairs and shook hands. Before he could pull away from the handshake, you put your other hand on top of the handshake and said "Thank you for that game...it's been a while since I had a truly fun time playing cards." You said with a smile. He stays silent but instead of walking away he takes your hand a lightly kisses it. "It was my pleasure." He says looking at you.

Walking over to Draco for the money he looks at you like you're crazy. "Y/n do you know how much money you just got us?!" "Yeah" you said innocently "now if you don't mind I would like my cut wired to my account"

"I mean okay then." He says taking out a check book. You tried looking around for Blaise you wanted to ask him why he wanted a date with you. After minutes of walking around the common room looking for him, you went to Pansy. "Pansy have you seen Blaise?" "Oh yeah. He said he was tired and needed some sleep. He should be up in his dorm." "Thank you" you said with a smile. Heading up to the boys dorms and look for Blaise you never knew exactly what dorm he stayed in but you knew he shared with Draco. You keep walking till you see a dorm with its door slightly open. You enter to see Blaise unbuttoning his white under shirt. "Oh, I'm sorry.." you said immediately exiting the room. "No, it's okay come in..." You slowly entered the room again. This time he was sitting on a chair infront of the fire place. (This time with a shirt on ;)) "So..why are you here?" He asked lightly. "Uhh I guess I just wanted to talk to you about tonight." "What do you mean?" "You know why did you wanna go on a date with me instead of getting the money I bet. You could've won if you wanted to, I hope you know that." "Well Y/n I don't know if you know this but usually when someone wants a date with you, they usually like you more than a friend." He said fixing the cuffs of his shirt. "I-I mean I know that but-" "But I like you more than a friend and I just never knew how to tell you, so I thought instead of asking I could win a date with you. Also no I couldn't have won I had the worst hands and I could never beat you at a card game." He laughs a little. "Well I just wanted to let you know you don't have to pay me that money from the game...although I would still like that date." "Really?" He asks. "Yeah..." you said looking into his eyes.

After awhile of talking about where and when. About just random stuff you realized how much you actually had in common with Blaise. "I never knew that you and me took the same classes in first year." You said smiling. "Yeah I guess that's when I first started to want to know you..." Blaise said slightly embarrassed. You hear the door to the dorm open. "Woah hope I didn't intrude on anything. I can uh leave if you want me to." Draco said with his hands in the air like he was surrendering. "Uh no it's okay I'm getting tired anyways, and I'm guessing Pansy is wondering where I am." You look back to Blaise to see him glaring daggers at Draco then looking back to you with a softened expression. "Lemme walk you back to your dorms at least." Blaise said as you were walking towards the door. "Yeah that would be great" you said with a smile. As you two are walking in a comfortable silence Blaise says "I'll somehow get the money to you soon. I don't know how-" "it's okay..Really I don't need it I was really just trying to get you to fold." "You're Crazy" you slightly hit Blaise in the arm, then you realize you are now at the door to your dorm. "Well I guess I should go to sleep now" you said to Blaise "Do you have to?" "Duh I'm tired" you say slightly laughing. "Okay, goodnight...make sure you're ready by 1 to go to hogsmeade." Blaise said waving his finger at you. He turns around to walk back to the boys dorm, you grab his hand and pull him into a hug. Your arms wrapped around his neck slightly pulling him down. "Thank for everything tonight.." you whisper to him. You kiss his cheek and walk into your dorm.

'Did Y/n just kiss me?' Blaise thought as he stood there holding his cheek.

=============

Pls lmk if you liked this chapter! Idkkk it’s kinda cornballish if u ask me but regardless I still like it. Sorry for any mistakes in the one-shot. Also lmk if you want more Blaise content because I have way more stories I’ve wrote. ^.^

[aardvaark]

expanding on that post about sophie devereaux backstories, grift ones and real ones and the things in between:

a year or two after they meet, tara and sophie are somewhere near drunk in a hotel room after a con, high heels thrown against the wall, dresses unzipped and halfway off. tara asks for her Story. the Story. and maybe she wouldn’t have asked if she were sober or maybe tara is simply a little too bloody brave sometimes, a little too determined.

so sophie tells her about a father in the military, a mother who died young, a family that moved houses, towns, regions, countries, all the time growing up. about lying to impress kids at every new school. about desperately doing almost anything to fit in for the months or year she’d stay in that area. about sweet talking her way out of a few little crimes here and there, cash that she would certainly never steal from her rich friends’ parents’ wallets, some driving rules she broke when she was too young to even have a license, yet old enough for a cop to encourage her flirting. sophie tells tara that her father died when she was 19, and the grief had led to recklessness. she made a mistake on a too-ballsy grift. she would’ve gone to jail. instead, she faked her death (for the first of many times) and never looked back. it’s the only funeral of hers that she didn’t attend.

and then, tara told her an equally untrue Story in return.

when sophie is duchess charlotte prentiss, her husband william asks far too many questions about her past. of course, charlotte has a Story. all of her aliases have Stories, even the ones she only uses for a day - they all have birthdays, childhood pets, first kisses, people they love. so she tells him that her parents died in a car crash when she was 16 and instead of going into the foster system, the authorities figured she was old enough to become an emancipated minor. she tells him how it was difficult at times, incredible at others, and sad and exciting and embarrassing and bittersweet. she weaves a damn good tale about charlottes life, if she may say so herself - one that’s just painful enough for william to stop asking questions. it works perfectly. but when she tucks astrid into bed that night, and the little girl looks up at her with big round eyes and asks if ‘charlotte’ misses her mummy and daddy and says that she’s sad for ‘charlotte’ because she knows what it’s like to miss a mama… sophie freezes. there’s a lump in her throat and goosebumps on her skin. she blinks down the tears and recovers just enough to fake a smile and kiss astrid’s forehead as she leaves the room. lying has never hurt like this before. it takes all her strength to shut it down, shove the emotions in some tiny box in her head that she simply refuses to acknowledge. she decides, then, that she has to leave this house as soon as possible.

the charlotte Story is one of many that hardison finds. it’s inevitable, when he has to cover all their tracks so thoroughly, that hardison would stumble upon various old aliases. he only learns about the charlotte one from the job in england - there’s no links between her and sophie, but he destroys a decent amount of excess duchess charlotte prentiss information just in case, and then looks for any other mysterious women who happened to pop up or vanish around that time. he notices that there are some things that all of sophie’s aliases share: their parents are dead, they have no siblings, and their life changed dramatically somehow in their mid-to-late teens (usually with those parents’ deaths, or gaining an inheritance, or moving far away). he knows that these are all pretty standard, convenient details for a fake identity. but he wonders, sometimes. couldn’t she have made up dead siblings? estranged but alive parents? a dramatic event in her early childhood or in her twenties? he doesn’t know if the consistent parts mean anything. he doesn’t ask for her Story - not outright, at least. though for the first couple months of knowing her, he does sometimes enquire about little things here and there. did she grow up with sisters, what was her high school like - that sort of stuff. information is his thing, sue him! sometimes sophie just smiles. sometimes she answers, and he eventually learns that her truths, at least, are very much relative. when he decides that she is family - which is pretty early on, to be honest - he also decides not to ask anymore. he destroys old aliases when necessary, but he never reads more than he has to. he loves sophie and that is enough.

eliot never asks anything about her life. not even the innocent, casual, unthinking questions that sophie is used to from other people: where’d you grow up? did you ever have any pets? i always had to share a room with my sister, what about you? eliot clearly avoids asking her any of it. she’s somewhat surprised by that. sure, he’s polite, but he’s also suspicious both by nature and due to certain unfortunate experiences, so she sort of expected him to interrogate her when they first met.

one night, they’re the last two left at nate’s apartment. even nate had gone to bed and left them there, long given up on shooing his team out at appropriate times. sophie’s been drinking tea and flipping through a latvian phrase book to refresh her memory for tomorrow’s grift, and apparently that 90-minute-a-day sleep schedule allows for eliot to be doing one-handed push ups in the living room at this ungodly hour. too tired to retain any more information, sophie studies eliot instead. he’s a straightforward guy. she decides to be straightforward too. she breaks the silence of the apartment and simply asks - is he ever curious about her Story? eliot pauses a moment. looks her in the eye, quiet. doesn’t brush her off gruffly like she thought he might. instead, he asks if she’s ever curious about What He’s Done. that is answer enough for the both of them. they don’t talk for the rest of the night, each going back to their own activities, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. on the contrary - the mutual understanding ends up solidifying their relationship.

nate isn’t always so intensely careful about his questions like eliot. well, actually, there were many times back in his insurance days that he very much did ask her questions on purpose. and of course, for five years, he asks after her real name. sophie generally thinks of it as a fun game. she smiles at his useless determination and teases him when he comes back from jail. after a while, though, she realizes that the questions about her Story mostly stopped when leverage formed, and stop completely once he proposed. nate never hears any version of her Story. she’s here now, and that’s all he needs or wants to know - just like how sophie is her real name in any way that matters.

the moment that sophie realizes this is the moment she stops caring about the real Story, the burden of the secret and the guilt and shame of keeping it from her newfound family. in that moment, she understands that what happened back then is just a small drop in the ocean, irrelevant to the life she’s built and come to love. she never tells them the story, and she never needs to.

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Kinji Hakari x Reader

⚠️Spoilers for chapter 238 kind of?

Kinji Hakari:

Your favorite movie is fight club, you love femboys or you just have a strong passion for dancing.

First Date:

You were out of money as usual and had heard rumors of an underground fighting ring. "It may not be legal but bills need to be payed. Besides, taxation is basically theft anyway so it evens out." You made your way towards the Gachinko venue, taking note of the other contestants. "This will be easy!"

You were now standing against your first opponent, a large, muscular man. "Hmpf. What are you supposed to be?" he sneered. You grinned. "My pronouns are they/them/causing mayhem!" You then struck him in the face, feeling his nose crunch under your knuckles. You only lasted a few more rounds, the rest of the guests being too scared to fight you.

As you were counting your earnings, a boy hung his arm around your shoulder. "Can you take my temperature?" You stumbled back awkwardly and tried to put some distance between the two of you. "...Why?..." The boy got right in your face. "Because you're giving me a massive fever babe!"

"..."

He took your silence as a okay to continue. "My name's Hakari and I think we can help each other out. I'll help you get some cash in exchange for hanging out with me and my crew for a day." You were already suspicious. "Crew?"

"Yeah, I have a harem of femboys. We wouldn't be dating though as I'm already together with Kirara and would need to ask them if they would be alright with being in a polyamorus relationship." The nerve of this guy to assume that you were already about to leap at the idea of going out with him! "I'm pretty good at gambling and I can get you some sweet cash from those earnings of yours. What do you say?" You shook his hand without hesitation. "All right, but you better not fail or your ass is grass and I'm going to mow it!"

Hakari introduced you to the gang and then took you to the local casino. "Stay here, I just need to make a quick stop!" It was now ten minutes later. "How good are you at baby sitting #######?" You noticed something behind him. "What the fuck is that?!" Standing there was an elderly man with teal hair. Damn, Hatsune Miku got old. "This is the old man. I can't leave him by himself and he needs an occasional walk every now and then."

Did he take some poor stray dog/old man to play house with? "This isn't what we agreed upon!" Hakari put his hands up in self defense. "I know, I know. Don't worry, I'll get you your money, you just have to make sure he doesn't sneak off. He's got a habit of getting into fights with people."

"Ugh, fine!" You eventually made it to the casino. You were worried that you would need ID but luckily the old man was able to "chaperone" the two of you. "Here's what we'll do. We split the money in half and then meet again in two hours." You then went your separate ways. You weren't really sure where to start so you went to one of the pinball machines. "Seems easy enough"

You were starting to get the hang of it when your ball hit a snag. "Huh?" You managed to open up a slot of some kind. "Three in a row. Well, here goes nothing!" You hit three times and were surprised that you didn't see bells or fruit. You had a match but you had never seen this before. Suddenly the words "FINAL EGGMAN" popped up and you then got a game over, losing everything that you had.

You kicked the machine. "Screw this game, I give up!" The old man then pipped up. "That's how losers think!" Whatever! You were off to find Hakari. By the time you found him you knew you regretted your decision. The boy was shirtless and yelling something about a "pure love train". You didn't see what all the fuss was about. After all, it's just pachinko.Wait, why was there music now? Shit. He was getting turnt up. "Hakari, stop!" But it was too late, for the next four minutes and eleven seconds, he was immortal. No one could stop him now. He ran out of the building and then used his femboy radar.

"I see one! The only problem is the giant meat head." Hakari then grabbed you and the old man. He threw a bag your way. "Here's the money. Now distract that guy over there for me while I go put on some smooth moves!" Ew. You were definitely never dealing with this guy again. "C'mon old man, let's get this over with."

Hakari had run up towards the stranger. "I'M BURNING UP FOR YOU BABY!" They grimaced. "I don't know who you think you are but let me help you cool off!" They raised a hand and an icicle pierced through Hakari's brain stem. "That takes care of that. Wait a minute. Where is my lord!?"

The two of you were going up to distract the random guy as Hakari had tasked you with but you weren't really sure on a plan on how to stall him. Then the old man began clutching his chest. "Hey! You're not having a heart attack are you!?" What came out of his lips wasn't something you had expected to hear. "He's so beautiful!"

"Huh?"

"Move out of my way, I need to see him!" The old man began to run off and honestly you couldn't really care. You were just glad that you could finally go home now. The old man was now in front of his target. "How can you connect with others?" The man raised a brow. "How can you love those beneath you... While knowing nothing of weakness?" Just before he could respond, the old man fell over.

"It seems he died of a heart attack." He looked down at his stomach which was frowning. "I should see if Uraume can get some use from this corpse and fashion me some waffles for breakfast."

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

65+87 please?

this has been sitting in my drafts for almost a month lol, i hated it when i wrote it but i just stumbled upon it again and realized it was sad to leave it sitting unread even if its not my favorite - so i hope someone enjoys my slightly angsty take on the prompt

65 First Kiss/Date + 87 Unresolved Sexual Tension

If it were anyone else calling Mickey ‘patient’, he’d laugh in their face.

But Ian had brought out much more outlandish qualities in him over the last few months, so it's no surprise that when it comes to him Mickey could find nearly endless patience. 

Three months ago, standing in front of Ian with his lungs screaming from the cold air he listened to Ian tell him that yes, this was him breaking up with Mickey. 

Mickey looked at Ian for a second. Looked at his pale, shivering form and couldn't find any anger for him. He was fucking heartbroken, and had to turn and look down the street just to take his eyes away.

“Take your meds, Ian” he simply. “Break up with me, sure. I can’t make you love me, I don’t want to. But you have what it takes to get control of this thing, with the meds or therapy or whatever and you’re really, really going to regret it if you don’t just because you were too busy being a mopey asshole to try.”

 “Fuck you, Mickey. I’m doing this because I love you, I’m letting you go, you don’t fucking owe me anything.”

Mickey shook his head, indignation finally welling up in his chest. He pushed the gate open harshly and stomped up to stand toe to toe with Ian “you’re doing this for you, because you want it to hurt. You think you deserve it, and you think I deserve it too.”

Ian looked so tired, like he wanted to cry. So Mickey just huffed a sigh, bringing a hand up to his cheek, patting it once before turning to walk away. 

“I can’t do it with you watching” Ian said suddenly. “I can't make any promises but if I’m going to try to make it work with the meds and get myself back on track, I need to do it alone.”

Mickey looked back with a huff, he knows that Ian wasn’t trying to be mean, but he couldn’t help but feel like Ian was blaming him. And maybe Mickey was the problem, Fiona and Lip and even little fucking Debbie had told him enough times that Ian needed to be in the hospital. 

“But if I can get to a better place, can I come find you?” Ian asked hopefully.

It was like their moods had swapped in a matter of seconds, Mickey just drew his mouth into a tight line, shaking his head slightly. “Let’s not make any promises to each other,” was what he decided on before walking away, back the way he came to crawl back into the den of misplace objects that had taken over his home and get drunk.

The next morning Mickey called over some guys he knew from the moving business that went bust to buy all the suitcase shit and haul it away. He took all the baby stuff Svetlana left behind and shoved it in the attic, working away at a bottle of whiskey as he went. 

It was like doing an autopsy to see how fucked up his life had become over the last couple of years. Unearth a condom here, a little baby sock here, Mandy’s blonde hair dye-

Mandy, Mickey realized with a pang of horror. Mandy left and he’d hardly even noticed. He spent the rest of the afternoon calling (almost) everyone Mandy knew and narrowed down where she moved to. He woke up the next day before the sun was completely over the horizon and started driving South East. 

Kenyatta might not have seen it in the moment, but he got very lucky that all it took was a bullet in the leg to get Mandy into Mickey’s car. 

She got a job at a high end restaurant, as hostess and then quickly moving up to waitress. Mickey started small time dealing again, making just enough cash to cover his meager expenses. They didn’t really hang out for a while, both siblings holed up in their rooms, licking their wounds. 

Mandy left him alone until he came home with a busted up face after he missed off the wrong supplier with his big fucking mouth. She hounded him after that, about getting his GED with her, going to community college.

“What are you going to do when dad gets out?” she asked, following him to the kitchen.

“Hope that this stint of fucking guys for a few months liberalized his views on same sex relationships” Mickey snarked back.

“Mickey, come on.”

“Or claim there was a gas leak that made me crazy for dick” he continued sarcastically reaching into the fridge.  

“Look Mickey, you’re twenty years old, you have no record as an adult and you should be making an effort to keep it that way unless you want to end up in and out of prison like dad” Mandy said testily, snatching a beer out of his hand.

“What the fuck do you want me to do Mandy?”

“Jesus!” she exploded. “The only thing I’ve ever seen you give a shit about was your stupid fucking boyfriend. You’re worse than me!”

Mickey just stared her down with a brusque fuck you and started walking away. 

“He’s getting out in less than a year Mickey,” she warned. “I’m saving up to rent my own place until then, and I suggest you do the same.”

She was right, he knew that and he just wanted to be a pigheaded asshole for a little while longer so he started scrolling through craigslist ads for security until something caught his eye. 

He lied through the interview, surprisingly at ease as long as he was able to be pulling a con in some way, even if he was just lying about who he was. He was armed with the knowledge that he’d bribed Linda Karib into saying that he was a valued member of the security staff at her large, upscale market and that Mandy would pick up the phone and follow any lie he’d told them.

“You got a job where?” Mandy asked incredulously, picking up the two suits he’d been given as a uniform from where he’d tossed them on the couch after he was hired.

“The Art Institute” He said around a mouthful of cereal. “You know, the big building on Michigan Ave with the Lions out front.”

“Why the hell did you want to work there?” Mandy asked incredulously. 

“It pays more than any other security gig I could get without a GED,” Mickey said. “And it’s like really cool, I’ll be guarding fucking Van Gogh and Michelangelo.”

“Yeah, guarding them from fifth grade class trips,” Mandy teased. “There’s a Michelangelo in Chicago?”

Mickey scowled and sucked his teeth, “you know what I mean.”

Against all odds, Mickey loved his job. He was vigilant enough to keep kids and entitled adults from touching anything they weren’t supposed to, but mostly spent his time rotating with the shift changes, getting exposed to something new and beautiful. Ancient Korean pottery, massive modern canvases, baroque paintings applied to wooden triptychs, and he had a front row seat to all of it.

He had nothing but time to think, he’d start his shift hating the painting across from him, and after a few hours he’d come to understand it, if not like it. 

It kept his mind off of Ian, which was important. He’d be reminded of his ex-boyfriend in a particularly golden shade of red, or the odd bright splash of green, but after a while he’d learned to let those thoughts come and then quietly escort them out without any anger or resentment. 

In short, four months after Ian broke up with him, Mickey was relatively happy and fulfilled. He had a good relationship with his family (the only member that mattered anyways), a job he liked (well, didn’t totally despise), and modern technology took care of everything else (grindr).

He was getting ready to meet up with a guy from the app when a wrench got thrown into the whole machine. He had showered and gelled his hair, putting on a clean shirt that showed off his arms, he was grabbing his wallet from the kitchen table when he noticed the shock of red hair contrasting with the grey of his living room. 

Ian turned around once he’d realized Mickey had come out of his room. Mandy must have let him in, seating him on the couch and leaving him like a sadistic little gift for Mickey to find, the fucking bitch. 

Mickey froze, hand outstretched as Ian turned to face him, scrambling up off the couch. 

“Hi Mickey,” Ian said breathily, attempting a grin. He looked good, healthy and normal. He looked like the Ian that left Mickey in his room to run off to the army, just a little older. 

“Uh” Mickey said, unhelpfully. “What are you doing here?”

Ian surveyed him up and down hesitantly. “Your sister let me in,” he said lamely.

Mickey raised his brows to say not the question I asked, fuckhead.

“Do you want to go get something to eat?” Ian asked nervously. 

“I’m not really hungry” Mickey said stupidly, not understanding why Ian was standing in his living room.

Ian deflated slightly “we could get a drink, or just go for a walk or something.”

“What are you getting at, Gallagher?” Mickey asked tiredly.

“I’m trying to ask you on a date” Ian said with a halfhearted smile. “I’ve been on my meds consistently for three months now so I thought-”

“Congrats, Ian that’s really great” Mickey said, bittersweet. “But if you got your shit together because I was gone, I should probably stay away.”

“No!” Ian blurted out. “No, I got better so I could see you again. I wasn’t going to put you through anymore than I already had.”

Mickey didn’t say anything to that, so Ian continued. “I know that I hurt you when I said that I needed to do this alone. But I’ve been working for the past few months to try and become someone I was proud of, so I wouldn’t feel so fucking sick every time you looked at me.”

Taking a deep breath, Mickey tried to calm down. He wanted to yell, he wanted to hug Ian, he wanted to leave and never see him again. But most of all he saw that he was being given the chance to start over, and he wanted to take it. 

“Fuck it, yeah, let's go to dinner” he agreed. 

“I thought you said you weren’t hungry,” Ian asked curiously, grinning wildly. 

“I can always eat,” Mickey said, finally sliding his wallet into his back pocket. “Can we get pancakes?”

“Yeah, hell yeah. Let’s go get some flapjacks” Ian agreed excitedly. “Wait-were you going somewhere?”

“Nah” Mickey dismissed. “Faceless Jonny can murder some other twink tonight.”

Ian laughed. It didn’t have that hyper, nasty quality Mickey had grown to flinch away from. 

It seemed like they agreed to set any uneasiness aside for the night so they could sit together and share a stack of pancakes. 

He told Ian all about the rescue mission to Indiana, the way Kenyatta charged at him in the living room before he could get his gun out and had to hold his own against the absolute mountain of a man before he managed to get his gun out. He told him about the spring he’d mostly shared with his sister, about the museum.  

“You do what?” Ian said, letting out a stalling laugh, nearly choking around a mouthful of bacon. 

“Stop laughing, it’s fun and I make good money” Mickey grumbled. “We can’t all be training to save lives.”

“Do you wear the little suit?” Ian asked, ignoring him. 

“Do you?” Mickey shot back. 

“Not yet but I will,” Ian said proudly. 

Ian didn’t share very much about what he’d been doing. Mickey managed to figure out that he was working working at Patsy’s for a while, before he started EMT training, he talked a lot about his family, Debbie getting pregnant and Carl going to juvie, but he had this was of talking around himself that made Mickey realize he probably spent a lot of the last few months pretty miserable. 

“So, I mean-this is our first date, right?” Ian asked with a grin, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Yeah, I guess so” Mickey said hesitantly.

“So, tell me stuff I don’t know” Ian said like it was obvious. “You know, siblings, childhood, likes and dislikes.”

Mickey snickered sarcastically leaning back with his arms crossed “number of siblings unknown, childhood was horrific. Likes; guns, redheads, tattoos, dutch renaissance painting, italian futurist sculpture, Bon Jovi, high fructose corn syrup. Dislikes; boston accents, bostson sports teams, men who can’t fight, vegetables that aren’t fried, and any pop song on the top 100.”

Ian grinned wildly, giddy and joyful “That is a very comprehensive run down, A+.”

Mickey chuckled a little, leaning forward and letting out a quick thanks. He turned to Ian and motioned for him to start talking.

“Five siblings. Mixed childhood, mostly good. Likes summer, professional hockey, pop music, thin highlighters, bad boys-hey, don’t kick me!-call of duty, and these days green tea. Dislikes Romantic comedies, football, mood stabilizers, menthol cigarettes, and hoodies without zippers.”

Mickey grinned at his stupid list, and his stupid smiling face. He felt himself getting sucked back into Ian’s magnetic orbit. 

“Would you let me take you out again?” Ian asked eagerly. “This was a pretty good first date.”

Reality came crashing down on Mickey again, and he remembered that this wasn’t really their first date, that nothing was normal between them “are you sure you’re ready for-whatever if is you’re trying to get out of this?”

Ian’s face fell, “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. I’ve spent the last few months trying to get to this point so I could come back to you.”

Mickey leaned forward to make eye contact with him, trying to decide wether or not to trust him. His eyes were wide and anxious but steady. Taking a deep breath and praying that it wasn’t a mistake. 

“Yeah, okay. I believe you,” Mickey agreed. “But I’m not doing this again, if we break up again it’s fucking over, I’m not going to spend the rest of my life running around in circles with you.”

Ian nodded enthusiastically “yeah, no, that makes sense. I don't want to do that either.”

He paid the check and they left together, when they got back to Mickey’s house he nodded up at it with a grin, “come in, Mandy won’t be back until later.”

Hesitating slightly, Ian took a deep breath and paused. “So, I’m totally ready to start dating you, totally ready. And I’ll come up to watch a movie or play video games or just hang out, but I don’t to have sex tonight, or for a little while.”

Looking down at his crotch automatically, Mickey pulled a questioning face. 

“It works,” Ian supplied with a blush. “It’s back up and running and everything. I just-once I could finally think clearly, I started getting this really uncomfortable feeling like my body isn’t mine, because I didn’t make choices I’m proud of, all the time. I’m still kind of struggling with that so if we can just go out and not fuck for a while that would be great for me, but-”

“Ian chill out. That’s fine, we can hang out.” Mickey said urgently. “You’ll want to eventually though, right? ‘Cause if this is a never again thing we'll need to figure-”

“No! No, definitely not never again, just like give me a couple weeks” Ian amended.

“Yeah, that’s fine. However long you need” Mickey agreed, walking up the stairs, “come on, I’m gonna’ kick your ass at the new grand theft auto just as bad as all the others.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ian groaned and flopped down on Mandy’s purple comforter.

“What’s got you all moody?” Mandy asked, uncapping a bottle of nail polish. 

“Your fucking brother won’t get naked for me” Ian whined.

“Ew! Jesus Ian” Mandy shrieked. “Just apologize for whatever he’s pissed about.”

“He’s not pissed,” Ian insisted. “Why would he be pissed?”

“I don’t know, why else would he be holding out on you?”

“On first date after we broke up, I mean-I guess that was our first date period, I told him I wanted to take it slow, at least with sex. After everything I’d done before getting diagnosed I just-didn’t want to jump into a physical relationship right away” Ian explained. 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Mandy agreed. 

“Yeah but that was almost three months ago and I have been very ready for a while and making it very fucking clear, but every time he shuts me down.”

“Shuts you down how?” She asked noncommittally, carefully painting her big toe. 

“The other night we were making out on the couch so I was trying to take his shirt off and he just pulled it down and looked at me like I was trying to fucking deflower him.”

Mandy let out a laugh, moving on to her other foot “have you tried telling him point blank that you wanna’ bang?”

“Kind of, not in so many words but I’ve tried to imply, in a seductive way, that I am really, really beyond ready and that by balls are starting to hurt.”

“You’re just being dramatic,” Mandy dismissed. “Just tell him what you’re telling me, which is what you should have done a week ago.”

“Yeah, I should have just told him. But now it’s like, weird. Like it’s weird that he’s purposely ignoring the like, big neon sign stuck to my forehead that basically screams I’m horny.”

“Maybe he’s not ready,” she said disinterestedly.

“He was three months ago,” Ian said, eye brows drawn. “So you think I’ve like, turned him off?”

“I have no idea, Ian!” She exclaimed. “I’ve already talked about my brother’s sex life way more than I wanted to this afternoon, it’s weird that you guys sleep in the same bed every other night but don’t have sex. And if you’re not the one with the problem, maybe he is.”

Ian laid back, deep in thought until Mandy kicked him out so she could get ready to work. Mickey got back an hour later, dressed in his dark suit. It didn’t fit him perfectly, but it made the darkness of his hair and eyelashes stand out even more. 

He said hi to Ian quickly before disappearing into his bedroom, unaware of Ian perking up and following him. “Mickey?” He asked curiously through the door. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hold on,” came a muffled reply.

“Can I just come in?” Ian asked impatiently. 

He waited a beat, then Mickey came out fully dressed in jeans and a teeshirt “jesus, where’s  the fire?”

“Why won’t you have sex with me?” Ian blurted out. “I mean, we both want to, unless I’m reading the signs wrong but the sexual tension feels pretty fuckin’ intense.”

Mickey licked his lips and looked away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Ian asked incredulously. “So you’re going to pretend that I haven't been basically practically jumping you every night for the last few weeks?”

“Whatever, you’re the one who didn’t want to have sex” Mickey shot back defensively. “You haven't said anything else since and I know I can be-y'know a little pushy, so I backed the fuck off.”

Ian moved forward quickly, moving to bring both hands up to Mickey’s cheeks and pulling him close before allowing his hands to travel downward slowly until he could tuck his hands comfortably into the back pockets of his jeans. “I get that it’s been weird not having sex, and I really appreciate you being so considerate, but if it’s alright with you I’d like to to back into your bedroom and suck your dick to say thank you for your extraordinary patience.”

From this close, Ian got to actually feel the affect this words had on his boyfriend and watch as his cheeks flushed and pupils dilated sightly. “Yeah,” Mickey nodded, nonchalant like his voice didn’t pitch up a couple octaves. “Yeah, I mean you can do that, if you want.”

Smiling, Ian ran a hand up his back so that he could lead Mickey back through the doorway by the back of his head, rubbing and rocking it lightly, stomach flipping in excitement.  

Believe me - I will be revisiting museum security guard mickey again, taking down heists, helping lost kids, and knowing where all the major pieces are so when wimpy little art students like me come in looking for specific pieces he can give directions -the possibilities are endless.

link to AO3

[talesfromtheshatterhome]

The town was dying.

Thunder Falls, South Dakota, was a small mountain town, founded on gold prospecting and fur trappers. Later, as the mines ran dry and the wildlife grew scarce, it simply became a small town between places. It was almost liminal. In the late 60's a university was built. Focusing on the sciences, the school became a small draw for the town, as it saw its population almost quadruple in the first decade of the campus being built. Small apartment buildings went up and suddenly, the town was back on the map. The low levels of light pollution warranted a planetarium and drew in astronomy students. The town's rich geography pulled in historians, geologists, paleontologists, and naturalists of all sorts to study. The old timers kept a sense of historical preservation to the town and its rich folklore. Old tales of monsters in the woods and giants in the mountains. One fellow had carved a tree in his yard to a detailed sculpture of Paul Bunyan. The town continued to grow from this thirst for knowledge.

Decades later, in 2014, geology students from the University stumbled on something that would reshape the landscape of the town. Then they found large pockets of natural gas beneath the mines. Multi Billion dollar companies all came, vying for the attention and permissions needed to begin harvesting this rich resource. With promises of riches for all, the shady conglomerates attempted to wrap their hands around the town and this new exploit. The college erupted in response. Every reputable scientist protested, petitioned and lobbied local landowners and politicians to block any fracking. They brought well written and well spoken arguments, clearly listing the dangers not just to the physical world and landscape around them, but to the local economy and infrastructure. The other side brought the better argument however: wealth, cash, and the ability to prey upon the greed of weaker men. Over time, ranchers, homeowners, and politicians signed over huge tracts of land. Rather than living spread out in their homesteads they began moving to the center of town, building taller apartments and homes. The demand for the places built for students forced the well-educated out of the town. Slowly, the college began to diminish as students found housing near impossible to find. With less and less students and traffic to the university, there was less and less protest to hinder the Corporation as it wove intricate tendrils throughout the local economy. The promise of business and revitalization to the town had everyone eating from the palms of the hands of the Rich. Like cattle being fed by a butcher.

The fracking began, forcing thousands upon thousands of tons of water and waste through deep crevices of the Earth. Tremors began to rattle the town at random times and places. The corporation assured everyone that this was a normal part of the process, that it was just the earth settling after each day's work. The gas began to be harvested, and the money began to flow. But not into the hands of the townspeople. The mayor found himself with a bigger house, and more land; a few of the other wealthy citizens did as well, having sold or rented large swaths of land to the Corporation. But the rest of the town didn't see a penny of it. Some folks were swindled into lesser deals that hinged on how much gas was harvested, or if they would even find any on their plots of land. They were promised more once the gas was flowing. The promises kept adding up, and the bills and debt kept piling up along with them.

After feeling the tremors, one old man recalled a story told to him by his father, who heard it from a trapper and guide back in his day. There was a story of the mines having to close down because of a beast; a massive monster that had eaten the horses of the prospectors before returning to the mountainside. He seemed to think something in the ground made the monster sleep, and the miners had dug too deep.

No one had thought of the story in generations. It was hardly an annotation in the sole copy of the town's history and folklore in the university library. But in a world where creatures like Godzilla existed, where a space dragon attacked Japan not 10 years prior, in a world where there was a giant moth that was advocating against climate change through two fairies… could such a tale afford to be disregarded to the annals of history?

The university geology department was in an uproar. The tremors were centered around a moving epicenter, one that followed its own path, and one that was circling in on, and growing ever closer to town. These reports were ignored by the Corporation, and town officials paid no heed to these warnings. The scientists were disregarded as fear mongers who were trying to stir the town up since their previous protests and arguments failed.

The tremors increased in ferocity, day by day, and the damage began to pile up. No longer were a few dishes falling from a single shelf, or a porcelain doll from the mantle. Now a barn collapsed, now an oil tank erupted in flame as electric wires collapsed. A fissure opened up in front of a stampede of cattle and the whole herd fell to their deaths. The rancher was on the phone calling it in, he reported what sounded like something was tearing through the cattle inside the fissure, though the ground had ceased moving they were still pulled deeper than he could see. There was a faint orange glow between the cracks in the rocks and down the fissure. He voiced concerns about an underground fire, much like Centralia in Pennsylvania where a coal mine fire still burns to this day. The receptionist taking his report at the police station reported that he heard his horse scream moments before the rancher did, then the line cut out. Rescue crews were working overnight to search the fissure to look for the man. There was no trace of him anywhere on his ranch or near the fissure. Just great upheavals of rock and stone protruding from the ground.

The sun was just beginning to cross the eastern slopes of the mountains. The sky turned from a deep lavender, to a rosey pink, now to a deep orange, like the clouds themselves were being set aflame. The ground in the center of town began to tremble, the buildings shook.

Suddenly large plumes of dirt and debris were hurled through the air, as if the ground were being shelled by artillery, but it was rhythmically constant, until suddenly a glowing orange horn pierced the surface, and then one massive clawed paw, and then another. Then the monster dragged itself from between the pillars of the Earth itself.

The story called the creature Baragon. It lived in the mountains and slept beneath the bedrock. When it last stirred, it ate several horses and miners who dug too greedily and too deep. That was over a century ago. That was a myth. That was a tale that should not have been forgotten. What erupted into the center of down, what began a tale of horror for those who remained, what was to become a reckoning for those who had abused the land once more was no myth. No legend sought the most primal form of justice nature could enact. This was real. This set fire to the town, this consumed the livestock: this tore its way through earth and stone, through concrete and pavement, through man and beast until it reached the gas refinery across town. No legend destroyed the plant and set fire to the gas within, or made a nest in the ruins.

In a world of monsters, where old myths wove new truth to our lives… Baragon was unleashed.

This day was a horror, and a bloody red mark in the histories of the state and the country. The refinery was on the opposite side of town from the University, so the University became a refuge for the citizens fleeing the beast. They were also the first to study the creature. They found that the natural gas of the area induced a trance in the creature, much like a shark turned upside down. They were able to use this knowledge to keep the creature subdued until it could be relocated safely. The Corporation was prosecuted by the townspeople, rather than the torches and pitchforks they deserved, they found themselves shackled to litigation. Ignoring the scientists, ignoring the safety data, failing to properly zone and inspect the areas and work zones, failing to follow through on their shady bargains to the townspeople. The company was found solely responsible for releasing the monster and the destruction and bloodshed it caused. The mayor died in the attack, as did most of the other wealthy elite who moved into the center of town with their new wealth from the Corporation. Nature's wrath found swift justice, but the town's justice took years, but set a precedent for the responsibility of all in the face of such a tragedy. Now after everything…

The town lived again.