#the mystery is why i keep coming back to play their shit

[chrisspirategirl]

Stream —> C.S. (ᥫ᭡)

“Chat, hear me out.. y/n.. she’s sooo bad!”

It had been a while since the triplets hopped on a twitch stream, with editing done and nothing better to do they decided joining a stream would be fun for an hour or 2.

“What is up chat!!” Chris yells from the top of his lungs as the excitement fills his veins

“Dude. You’re so loud the stream just started.” Matt responds as he adjusts the web camera and Nick sits in the far back on Matt’s bed scrolling on his phone.

“Okay so basically, we have no reason to be on a stream but we’re bored so we thought hopping on for a bit would be cool.” Chris explains as he leans on Matt’s gaming chair, the chat filled with thousands of comments a second.

User: CHRISSSSSS

User: yo why Matt looking a little.. 🫣

^User: @/user no cause real.

User: Nick sitting in the back is so me.

User: missed you so bad Chrissy poo.

User: Matty b back at it again with the messy hair 😩

+100 more

“Chat should we play a game or should we just sit here and talk?” Matt says while adjusting comfortably in his seat. “We should do hear me outs!” Chris says with a huge grin spread across his face, this grabs nicks attention and he springs off the bed joining his brothers in the group.

“Yeah yeah let’s do that!” Nick says with burst of energy, Matt shrugs his shoulders shifting his chair to the far right allowing room for his brothers to sit besides him.

As the triplets settle in their seats all being perfectly in frame, Matt and Chris skim over the chat occasionally reading a few comments here and there.

“Chris when are you growing back that goatee” Chris reads, “my shit been growing actually. I haven’t shaved in probably 2 weeks?” He responds touching his face and running a hand down his chin.

“Chrisbendmeovernow with the 5 gifted, thank you.” Matt reads chuckling while Nick drops a look of shock and Chris bangs on the desk with the palm of his hand, his brother’s laughing at the reaction.

“CRAZIEST USER NAME EVER!” Chris yells, Nick and Matt are on the verge of tears from laughing too hard both leaned over laughing with their faces buried in the palm of their hands, Chris shakes his head trying to keep a disappointing look but failing when he lets out a small chuckle.

“Okay so what we starting this hear me out or no?!” Nick recovers going back in frame and soon after Matt does as well “yes bitch I’m gonna start” Chris responds, “okay chat hear me out..” he begins while scrolling on his phone to pick out the photo, “Judy hops” he adds pointing the phone screen to the camera, Matt nods his head urgently high fiving Chris, “great way to start” Matt says.

“Ok, my turn..” nick speaks with a small giggle of mischief as he scrolls on his phone for a picture “and you guys HAVE to hear me out PUH-LEASE!!” He says before showing the phone to his brothers then at the camera, “a stop sign.” He says confidently, Chris and Matt’s jaws are DROPPED “Nick wha-“ “AND before you guys start listen. The amount of aura a stop sign has because first of all.. stop. Second of all everyone is obeying and doing what the sign says so ultimately he’s the definition of max aura.” Nick explains with a small smile. Matt just shakes his head and Chris lets out a small giggle.

“You’re insane” Matt says “alright my turn. Chat hear me out. The other mother from coraline.” Matt points his phone to the camera “I’m listening” Nick responds nodding his head. “I love a little villain moment” he adds Matt nods in agreement “I know me too”

Chris turns his head to his brothers “now who am I not to add at least one Fortnite girl on here, Nog Ops, like come on, she’s the baddest you can’t lie” he says proudly “of course you would” Nick and Matt both say simultaneously. “ALSO ALSO!” Chris speaks up again “Helen Henny.”

N: “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

C: “She’s a little creepy yes. BUT she gives off this mysterious aura and I fuck with it.”

“Absolutely insane Matt please go next” Nick says earning a chuckle from Chris.

M: “Alright uh, hear me out Vanessa from finneas and ferb”

C: “YES, if you look past that big ass forehead yes.”

Matt and Nick both look at each other in shock before looking back at Chris, “do you NOT see that cranium on her. She thinking hard” Chris explains as he looks closely at the photo.

N: “alright my turn. And you guys HAVE to listen-“

M: “you say this with every hear me out”

N: “okay well THIS one you have to keep your ears open, the Tasmanian devil.”

C: “wild.”

M: “no.”

Chris looks down at his phone drowning out nicks yelling when he comes across something causing him to jump suddenly scaring Nick and Matt “HEAR ME THE FUCK OUT!” Chris yells before pointing the phone showing a picture of you in one of your instagram posts “chat hear me out… y/n… she is soooo bad!!” Chris says with a giddy smile, “she’s really pretty I love her” Nick adds Matt only nods his head “she’s funny too” he added.

The chat goes absolutely crazy over this moment spamming the comments with obnoxious replies.

User: SHES A BADDIE

User: CHRIS HAS TASTE

User: she’s actually mine thanks!

User: you can’t handle allat.

User: SOMEONE TAG HER IN THIS SHIT OR SOMETHING!!

+ 100 more

The chat is spammed with numerous more responses all talking about you and Chris and how you both would make a cute couple. It was a shock to most fans that Chris knew who you were but you were also well known on the internet so it was not a big surprise that he followed you.

“Chat spam her comments right now and tell her to hit me up” Chris joked but he also knew that his fans were already doing that so persuading them wasn’t that difficult.

You’re on an insta live sitting at your vanity with her legs pulled into your chest talking about whatever, until you notice a huge spam of comments on your live. “Y/n have you seen what Chris sturniolo said about you?” You read with a confused look on your face, “no? Why is it bad?” You say chuckling tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

User: he wants you so bad

User: give my boy chrizz a chance

User: you’re too bad for him pick me 😕

User: when he actually has taste

User: I think he like you idk though

User: CHECK THE TRIPLETS STREAM

User: 10:37!!

The comments are getting crazy all flooding with just Chris, Chris and Chris! You interest is sparked convincing you to grab your iPad that sat aside of you on your vanity. You open the twitch app and click on the triplets stream, finding the exact timestamp and watching the clip of Chris mentioning you. “Woahhh” you responded chuckling sheepishly “I’m flattered, thank you Chris”

Your eyes lift up from the iPad looking back at your phone that was propped up against your water bottle.

“Guys I’m so dead serious when I say that Chris is so cute. He’s a little cutie pie” you giggle as you explain the slight attraction you had towards Chris already knowing the fans will report back to Chris of what you said. An on going back and forth thing you weren’t prepared to experience. It was like the fans were match making the both of your together which was a silly though but it really felt as though they were lighting a spark between the both of you.

Eventually you end your insta live and click on Chris’s insta profile typing out a message for him, ‘great being apart of the stream!’ Obviously you weren’t but you WERE mentioned in the stream so technically you’re apart of it. Putting down your phone you can feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach as you go to rewatch the clip.

Chris immediately clicks on your message, silently reading it with a sly smile before quickly typing out a response, ‘you were always my #1 🫡’

The way I could write a whole Wattpad story based off this HELLO. Anyways I didn’t know how else the end the story so you’re getting what I got 💔

@cupiidkills ‘s was my inspo for this fanfic!

I apologize that this was more of Chris’s perspective I got a bit carried away almost forgetting I had to type out y/n’s existence 😭😭

Dividers by —> @hyuneskkami & @bernardsbendystraws

Besos a mis amores! 💌

↳ @chrisspirategirl 🤗

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #13 死

† the wound that always bleeds †

"Like a mathematical equation, turns out sleeping next to a warm body has always been the solution, which to Jungkook is ironic. Just how ironic it is to Taehyung, that Jeon keeps pretending he's above everything and everyone."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 6,5k

rating: mature

content: walk of shame (not), sharing secrets, best friend gossip, 8 hours of sleep for jeon (yay), v's sadistic streak shining through, v being a psychotic lil' shit, takama stepping in to save the day, v ruining lives for the fun of it and jimin being too soft for his own good (why do i always do this shit to jimin bro)

☠ author's note ☠

First of all, Kiki Nation on Tumblr is FUCKING UNHINGED. The goal was 200 notes and it took y'all less than 24 hours. I'm flabbergasted. But also it was smut so... understandable. I see you, horny little gremlins. I respect your dedication.

So here's chapter 13! (I had to proofread this while revising tax law so if something doesn't make sense, it's your fault somehow. Don't question my logic.)

AHHHHH I finally got to show off V's more psychotic nature! His little sadistic side coming out to play! He's such a little shit I love him. Writing characters with mental instability is my emotional support activity.

Well well well, things are slowly unveiling, huh? So what the fuck happened?! Who is Sylvia?! WHAT IS GOING ON?!

That's for me to know and you to lose sleep over for now (◕‿◕✿)

You know, sometimes I genuinely forget you don't have access to the absolute chaos that is my brain. Like it's genuinely hard for me to understand this from an outside perspective because I have the whole plot mapped out in excruciating detail, but you're still in the dark and it's like—is it too obvious? Is it too vague? AM I BEING COHERENT?

The eternal struggle of writing mysteries when you already know the answer. It's like trying to play poker while everyone can see your cards except you think they can't but maybe they can a little bit?? This is why I don't sleep.

Anyway, that's it for now! Love you all, you enablers of my questionable coping mechanisms! (ง •̀_•́)ง

EDIT: If you haven’t read the prologue… you must. Otherwise this is going to be hard to understand bahahaha.

⚔ socials ⚔

read on ao3

read on wattpad

tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

The alarm rips through your dreams like a knife, and god—you've never hated a sound more in your life.

Your eyelids feel like they're made of lead, your body heavy with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that comes from... well. Last night's activities.

The blankets are so warm, and you smell like pine and sex and masculine. Just five more minutes...

Then reality bitch-slaps you awake. You're in Jeon's tent. At dawn. Which is exactly where you're not supposed to be.

His leg is thrown over yours, arm draped across your waist like he's trying to keep you there. It's almost... cute?

No, not cute. Definitely not cute. Just annoying. And inconvenient.

You nudge him with your elbow, trying to wiggle free without fully waking him. The grunt he makes is surprisingly soft.

"Stay still..." His voice is rough with sleep, half-muffled against your shoulder. "Just five more minutes. Let me doze off again before you go."

You huff but stop moving. It's just five minutes, right? Not like anyone's awake yet anyway. And he's so warm, his breath steady against your skin.

It's... nice. In a way that's probably dangerous.

His breathing evens out quickly, dropping back into sleep. The mighty Chief Jeon, passed out and cuddling. If you weren't so tired, you'd probably laugh.

When you finally ease out from under him, his body twitches slightly—this tiny, unconscious movement that's so unexpectedly human.

It's so weird seeing him like this, soft and sleep-warm skin. Almost makes you forget he's the gang's deadliest assassin.

Or one of them, if you consider V.

Better not tell Jeon you thought that, anyway.

You wiggle back into your clothes as quietly as possible, trying not to wake him—leggings, panties, bra, that stupid crewneck that started all this. No need to give the rest of the camp a morning show.

You crawl out of his tent like the trained seductress you are—silent and graceful. Well, as graceful as anyone can be at ass o'clock in the morning.

The camp is dead quiet except for the occasional snore from distant tents.

Your heart doesn't stop hammering until you're safely away from his tent. The morning air hits your skin, fresh and sharp, washing away the lingering scent of pine and sex.

With each step, you build up that sense of normalcy that someone who didn't fuck a chief last night should wear. No walk of shame here—just a perfectly normal morning stroll. Nothing to see.

The portable table catches your eye as you pass—someone's left out water bottles and snacks like offerings to the gods of late-night hookups. You grab a bottle, the plastic cool against your palm. The water helps, but it doesn't quite wash away the taste of him.

Not that you're thinking about that. Nope. Not at all.

You take another sip of water, trying to convince yourself you're totally fine with how things went down.

(You're not.)

Because seriously—what kind of assassin doesn't carry protection? The absolute audacity of Jeon, walking around looking like that, with those hands and that mouth and those fucking bedroom eyes, and not being prepared?

Criminal. Actually criminal.

Not that you're thinking about his hands. Or his mouth. Or the way he'd worked you up so perfectly, taking you apart piece by piece until you were shaking.

You drain half the water bottle in one go, but it doesn't help. Your body's still humming with leftover want, still craving more than just grinding and kisses.

Because fuck—it was good, but you know it could've been better. Could've had him filling you up, stretching you open, making you see stars...

If only he had brought condoms with him.

"Fucking hell," you mutter, slightly crushing bottle. The plastic crackles satisfyingly in your grip.

You can't even properly be mad at him. Not when he'd made sure you came first, not when he'd been so attentive to every little sound and movement.

But still.

The fact that you'd been this close to getting properly railed by Chief Jeon, only to be cockblocked by his own lack of preparation?

Infuriating.

Your core throbs at the memory of his cock pressed against you, at how big he'd felt even through layers of fabric. God, the things he could've done to you if he'd just—

Fucking stupid sniper. The audacity of leaving you wanting more.

And oh, there will be a next time. You're getting that dick properly, even if you have to staple condoms to his fucking forehead.

Because someone who looks like that and kisses like that and uses his hands like that? Yeah. You're not done with him yet.

"Good morning."

JM's soft voice yanks you out of your definitely-not-horny thoughts. He looks adorably rumpled, all oversized sweater and messy salmon hair. His cheeks are pink from the cold morning air, making him look even softer than usual.

"Morning," you manage, grateful that your voice sounds normal.

He takes a sip from his own water bottle and you mirror him, mostly to have something to do with your hands.

"Sleep well?" You ask because it's polite, and also because talking about sleep is way better than thinking about what you were doing instead of sleeping last night.

His smile is warm and genuine. "Yeah, I did. And you?"

"Yeah." You nod, aiming for casual.

Like you didn't spend half the night grinding against Chief fucking Jeon. Like you're not still feeling the ghost of his hands on your skin.

Just a normal morning chat. Nothing to see here.

You give JM a quick wave and head back to your tent, trying not to look suspicious. Like you didn't just spend the night getting railed—well, almost railed by his coworker.

God, that's weird to think about.

When you peek inside, Yunjin's already stirring, one eye cracked open in the dim light.

"Y/N?" Her voice is thick with sleep.

"Yeah, it's me." You whisper back, watching her untangle herself from Eunchae, who's apparently decided Yunjin makes an excellent teddy bear.

It's kind of adorable, actually.

She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes. When she looks at you again, her brow furrows.

"You didn't sleep here?"

You open your mouth, ready to spill everything—about Jeon's hands and his mouth and how fucking good he'd been—but snap it shut. Not exactly tent-appropriate conversation.

"No."

Her eyes go wide, and she leans in close. "Did you sleep outside? In the freezing cold?"

"No, no, I didn't sleep—" You cut yourself off, suddenly very aware of all the sleeping bodies around you.

The tent walls might as well be tissue paper when it comes to privacy. A quick check outside confirms you're clear.

You duck back in, keeping your voice low. "We can't talk about this here."

You can see the exact moment sleep leaves Yunjin's eye, replaced by that familiar spark of gossip-hungry curiosity. Her lips curl into a grin that says she knows something juicy is coming.

"Okay, I'll be ready in 5." She's already reaching for her clothes, suddenly very awake.

You duck out of the tent to give her privacy, leaning against a nearby pine tree. The bark digs into your back through your clothes, but you welcome the discomfort. Keeps you from getting lost in memories of other things that were digging into you last night...

Nope. Not thinking about Jeon's hands. Or his mouth. Or the way he'd—

Fuck.

When Yunjin finally emerges, her pink hair is a mess and she's practically vibrating with curiosity. You tilt your head toward the edge of camp, where the trees grow thicker. Perfect for spilling secrets that definitely shouldn't reach certain ears.

You find a fallen log away from the other tents, tucked between snow-dusted pines. The wood is freezing through your pants, but whatever. Some things are worth a cold ass.

Yunjin plops down next to you, already leaning in close. She smells like campfire smoke and cotton candy.

"So, what's going on? You look like you've been through hell and back."

More like heaven and back, but you're not about to say that out loud.

You take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts. The memory of his hands, his mouth, his everything makes your pulse skip.

"Jeon happened."

"Jeon?" Yunjin's eyebrows shoot up so fast they nearly disappear into her forehead. "As in, Mr. I'll-Kill-You-With-My-Thumb Jeon? That Jeon? What the hell did he do now?"

There's teasing in her voice but you catch the flash of concern in her eye.

Sweet, but unnecessary.

"He didn't do anything... wrong." God, your face is burning. "We were alone and things got... intense."

"Intense how?" She draws out the words, scoffing. "Did you two fight each other to death���?"

"It's not like that." You cut her off before she can get carried away. "I mean, we did fight at first but then—well—"

You gesture vaguely, like that explains everything.

"We didn't plan it. It just... happened."

"What happened?"

She crosses her arms, looking supremely unconvinced. Then, presses her lips together, biting back a smile.

"So what, you got stuck and stepbro came to your rescue—"

"Yunjin!" You slap a hand over her mouth, mortified.

Your skin's still tingling with phantom touches and she's out here making porn references? You drop your hand with a scowl that's only half-serious.

Looking anywhere but at her knowing grin, you mutter, "it was mutual."

The words come out barely above a whisper, like saying it too loud might summon him. Or worse—his ego.

Yunjin's smirk turns absolutely feral. "Oh my god, I knew there was something brewing between you two since the croissant thing. Come on, spill the dirty details."

You laugh, but your neck's getting hot just thinking about it. Leaning closer, you drop your voice even lower.

"Well, one minute we were fighting, and the next..."

You tell her about his hands, his mouth, the way he'd taken you apart piece by piece. How every touch had felt like lightning under your skin.

"He's like a fucking storm," you try to explain, but words feel inadequate.

How do you describe the tempest that is Jeon?

"And?" She's practically bouncing now, pink hair falling in her face as she leans in.

"And it was... intense. Like our bodies just clicked, you know? The way he touched me, the way he moved..."

"Holy shit." Yunjin lets out a low whistle. "Sounds like Chief Murder-Eyes knows how to fuck. I'm almost jealous."

You can't help but laugh, relief flooding through you at finally being able to talk about it. "I mean, we didn't actually—you know. No condoms. But still, with everything going on... with the gang and the rules..."

"Well, it's just fucking, right?" She cuts in, voice matter-of-fact. "You didn't break any rules."

Her words hit different, reassuring—exactly what you'd said to Jeon last night.

Right. No strings attached. Just two people scratching an itch.

"Yeah." You shrug, aiming for casual. "Just some good ol' fucking."

Yunjin's laugh is warm, understanding. "Well then, there's nothing to worry about. Just be careful. Jeon's not just any guy. From what I've heard, he's got layers, and not all of them are pretty."

You snort, rolling your eyes.

"Pffft, I know." You lean back. "I only have eyes for the pretty. And his dick."

That sets you both off cackling like teenagers sharing secrets behind the bleachers. It feels good to laugh about it, to make light of something that could've been way more complicated.

Yunjin stands, brushing pine needles off her pants. "Well, I gotta head back before they start sending out search parties for us. But we'll talk more about this later, yeah?"

"Yeah, later."

You're grateful she's not making a bigger deal out of this than it is. Just two adults having some mind-blowing- well, almost mind-blowing sex. No feelings, no drama.

She punches your shoulder playfully before heading back to camp, leaving you alone with memories of callouses on your skin and that fucking lip ring against your mouth.

Not that you're thinking about round two.

The early morning light bleeds through the tent, and for the first time—his eyes are not open to perceive it.

Jungkook stirs slowly, consciousness creeping in like the dawn. His hand reaches out, seeking the familiar cold touch of his phone screen.

Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Eight fucking hours without a single nightmare clawing at his mind. No cold sweats, no jolting awake with a scream lodged in his throat.

Just... peace.

His eyes drift to the empty space beside him, still holding a ghost of warmth where you had been. The indent in his pillow, the lingering scent of chai tea mixed with his pine—evidence that last night wasn't just a fevered dream.

Interesting.

The tactician in him can't help but analyze this development.

Eight hours of proper sleep, achieved simply by having another body next to his. The data suggests a correlation worth exploring. It's purely scientific interest, of course —nothing to do with how your quiet breathing had somehow matched his own, creating a rhythm that had lulled him into the deepest sleep he'd had in months.

His lips twitch, almost forming a smile.

Who would have thought that the solution to his insomnia would be so... straightforward?

Just add another warm body to the equation.

Simple.

Efficient.

The gang's best sniper, finally getting proper rest because of a quick hookup.

There's probably irony in there somewhere.

Jungkook stretches, feeling unusually light. His muscles are loose, relaxed in a way that has nothing to do with the previous night's activities.

Well, not entirely due to them.

Eight hours.

He could get used to this.

Jungkook sits up, letting the cool morning air hit his skin. Eight hours of actual sleep has him feeling... different. Not better, exactly. Just less like death warmed over.

He takes his time straightening his tent—a habit drilled into him and not voluntarily.

When he makes it outside, the camp is quiet except for the occasional bird call. His hands find his pockets as he heads toward the mess area, following the siren call of caffeine. The neat row of coffee cans almost makes up for sleeping on the ground.

Almost.

But then he sees V.

And just like that, his rare good mood evaporates.

Evaporates fast.

Jungkook's tongue clicks—automatic. His body already tightens before his mind even catches up. For a second, he considers turning back, caffeine be damned. But no. That'd hand the bastard a win, and Jeon doesn't hand out victories before breakfast.

V's lounging like he owns the clearing. Hair a tousled mess, skin flushed from either a fight or a fuck—Jeon doesn't care which. He just notes the details, stores them. It's habit. Just another target to assess.

The bastard tracks his approach with lazy, half-lidded eyes and that signature smirk—like he already knows he's about to ruin something.

Jungkook grabs a can off the table. Doesn't even look at V yet.

"Had fun last night?" The words come out dry, flat. No bite. Just noise.

V lifts his chin, amused. "Some of us don't need to buy intimacy with imported espresso machines."

Jungkook opens the can with a sharp hiss. Keeps his eyes on the label. "Didn't realize desperation was charming now."

"I call it efficiency." V stretches his arms overhead, exposing fresh marks on his throat. "In and out. Simple. No cleanup. You should try it—might loosen that iron rod you've got jammed up your spine."

Jungkook takes a slow sip of bitter coffee and finally looks at him. "You're bleeding self-worth all over the ground. Try wiping it up before someone slips."

V laughs, delighted. "There he is. I was starting to worry you'd gone full ghost. Thought maybe you finally snapped and joined the meditation club upstairs."

Jungkook doesn't answer. He's already turning away, walking slowly toward the edge of camp—toward the trees. Not far. Just enough distance to mute V's noise.

Of course, V follows. He always does.

"You know what your real problem is?" V's voice floats lazily behind him. "You think control's the same thing as peace."

Jungkook says nothing. Another sip. The coffee's still shit. V's steps crunch through the grass behind him. Closer now.

"But it's not. You're not calm, Jeon. You're just buried."

Jungkook stops. Just briefly. Looks up at the sky like it might offer patience.

V grins, eyes glittering. "Bet it gets lonely. All that quiet. All that nobility. Ever wonder why no one's lining up to warm your bed these days?"

Jungkook doesn't flinch. Just watches a bird take off from the trees. "Didn't realize we were counting bodies now. Thought you preferred keeping score in blood."

"Oh, I do," V murmurs, stepping beside him, too close. "But you—God, you used to have heat, you know that? Used to burn. Now it's all smoke and mirrors. All that rage shoved behind protocol and detachment."

Jungkook doesn't look at him, but his hand tightens around the can.

V keeps pushing, voice sweet as poison. "You used to laugh. Fuck, remember that? You'd stay up past curfew, cheat on drills, get into knife fights for fun. Now look at you—clockwork killer with a loyalty complex."

"You done?" Jungkook's voice is sharp now. Controlled, but edged.

"Not even close." V steps in front of him, cuts off the path. "See, I get it now. You stopped fucking because you can't do casual anymore. Too dangerous, right? Someone breathes near you and you start imagining futures."

Jungkook's jaw tightens.

V leans forward. "What was it RM said? 'Attachment makes you weak'? Or did you have to learn that one the hard way?"

"Careful," Jungkook says, low.

V just smiles. "I'm not touching your secrets, Jeon. Just pointing out the obvious. You're terrified of getting close again. You think if you fuck anyone, they'll catch feelings. Or worse—you will."

Jungkook doesn't blink. Doesn't speak. But the can in his hand dents slightly under his grip.

V notices. Of course he does.

"I mean, maybe that's why no one touches you anymore." He tilts his head, mock-thoughtful. "Not because you're intimidating. Not because you're better. But because they all see it—the grief in your bones. The guilt. Like it might rub off."

"You talk a lot for someone with nothing to say."

V grins, stepping aside, letting him pass. "And you say nothing hoping it makes you mysterious. But guess what, Jeon? I see right through that bullshit."

Jungkook exhales slowly through his nose. The air is cool, the trees just ahead. He keeps walking. He doesn't rise. Not yet.

But V's still behind him.

And he's not done.

Jungkook moves, calm steps through dew-soaked grass. The can in his hand hisses with pressure, dented from his grip, but he doesn't look back.

"You know what your problem is, Jeon?" V's voice cuts through the morning air, sing-song soft. "You're so far up your own ass you can't see what a joke you've become."

Jungkook doesn't bother with a glance. Just takes another sip of his shitty coffee. Tries to drown out the taste of chai from his tongue.

"The perfect soldier," V continues, pacing a few feet behind, voice louder now. "Marching in lockstep behind Commander like a good little ghost. You think if you bleed enough for RM, he'll forgive you for what you let slip through your fingers?"

Still no answer. Just another sip of that bitter, mass-produced garbage. Jungkook focuses on the taste—the chemical bitterness coating his tongue, sharp and synthetic. Easier to focus on that than the ache V's voice digs up.

"Nothing to say?" V's tone lifts, faux-curious. "Come on, where's that famous discipline now? Or did you leave it behind in your tent last night?"

The can pauses mid-sip. Barely a hitch. Just one second too long.

Jungkook lowers it slowly. "Your obsession with where I sleep is weird. Maybe try journaling."

V grins wide behind him, practically skipping to keep up now. "You're right. I should write this all down—'Jeon, once fierce and unfiltered, now drinks piss-coffee and pretends not to feel anything.' Bestseller."

"You done with the poetry?"

"Almost," V chirps. "Just wanted to make sure you knew everyone sees it. The way you're chasing scraps of forgiveness like a dog with its tail between its legs. You used to lead the escapades. Now you just brood and play pretend."

Jungkook stops walking.

V nearly collides with him, amused.

"Touch a nerve?" he murmurs.

Jungkook's head tilts slightly, eyes still forward. "You should work on new material. The old lines are starting to bore me."

V steps around him, circling like a vulture. "That's the thing about ghosts, Jeon. They're repetitive. They just haunt the same places. Same faces."

Jungkook's eyes shift. Cold. Level.

"You sound jealous."

V barks a laugh. It's short, sharp, too loud for the quiet trees.

"Of what? Your sad, monk-ass existence? Nah. I just miss the guy who could take a punch and throw three back."

"He grew up," Jungkook replies coolly. "Maybe you should try it."

"Nah," V says, too quickly. "That guy didn't grow up. He crawled into a cage and slammed the door shut."

Jungkook takes a step forward, chest brushing V's shoulder as he passes. "Or maybe he realized some things aren't worth fighting for anymore."

"Oh?" V pivots, stalking behind again. "Like loyalty? Brotherhood? Control?"

Jungkook doesn't turn. "Like noise."

V's smirk sharpens. "Funny you mention that. Because the silence after you let her die? That was deafening."

That stops him.

One step shy of the treeline.

Jungkook doesn't move, but something in the air shifts. Not loud. Not visible.

Just cold.

Real cold.

He sets the coffee can down on a mossy rock, slow and steady. Wipes his hand once on his thigh.

"You sure you want to go there?" he says, soft as snowfall.

V's smile flickers. Not with fear—he doesn't do fear—but with pleasure.

This is what he came for.

"I'm just saying," V hums, circling again, low and lazy. "You've been pretending for so long. Pretending she didn't matter. Pretending you're fine. Pretending you're not still clawing your way out of that night like it didn't gut you."

Jungkook says nothing.

But his silence means something now.

"I was there, Jeon," V says, inching closer. "You looked at me like I'd ripped out your heart and eaten it."

"You did," Jungkook murmurs. Still not looking at him.

"And yet," V's voice softens to a whisper, "you still didn't pull the trigger."

"Because you weren't worth it."

V snickers. "That's not what your eyes said."

Jungkook turns his head slowly. "No. That's what restraint looks like. Something you wouldn't recognize if it slit your throat."

V's lips curve, crooked and violent. "But you wanted to. You still want to."

Another long pause. Jungkook's jaw flexes once.

"Not as much as I want to forget you ever mattered."

And that—that hits.

V's grin falters. Just for a split second. The moment is small, but Jungkook catches it. He always catches everything.

Then, it changes again. V watches him like a cat watches a cornered bird. Head tilted. Smiling like he knows what's coming, and he's going to savor every second of it.

"You know what's funny," V says, voice maddeningly casual, "I always wondered if that was the problem."

Jungkook doesn't bite. Doesn't blink.

V goes on. "Not the rule-breaking. Not the secrecy. But who you broke the rule for."

Jungkook's gaze sharpens. Just a sliver. Just enough.

V catches it, of course. "Maybe if it had been someone else. Someone... less delicate. Maybe then, I'd have understood."

Jungkook's jaw shifts—tightens, releases.

"You picked soft," V continues. "You always hated soft. But that's what you chose. That's who you let in."

"Don't," Jungkook says quietly.

But V's already grinning, teeth and cruelty.

"God, what was her name again? It's been so long." He taps his chin mockingly. "Right there. Tip of my tongue."

Jungkook turns away. Starts walking.

He needs to get away from that sicko before he does something stupid.

"Don't go yet," V calls behind him, voice lilting like this is a game. "Help me out, will you? Dark hair? Big eyes? Always looked like she was about to break?"

Each step Jungkook takes feels heavier now. Like the gravity around him's been recalibrated.

"Jeon," V sings. "C'mon. Starts with an 'S,' right? S... Ssssss—shit, it's gonna bug me all day if you don't help."

Jungkook stops walking. Doesn't turn.

"V."

One word. Dead calm. A warning that sounds like the moment before a trigger snaps.

But V doesn't stop. He never does.

"Wait—don't tell me—Sarah? No. Sophie?" He's grinning now, wide and unhinged. "No no no, it was something sweeter than that, wasn't it? Something fragile."

Jungkook's whole body goes still. His shoulders square. Not aggressive. Not defensive.

Bracing.

"I won't tell you again."

"Oh, don't be like that." V's voice drops to a near-whisper. "We're just reminiscing."

"You say it," Jungkook murmurs, quiet enough that the wind almost eats it. "And this conversation takes a very different turn."

"Isn't that the fun part?" He replies.

Jungkook turns back to walk away. But before he can do just that, V opens his mouth again.

"No, wait, wait, wait! I remember it now."

V tilts his head, feigning thought, acting like he just got enlightened by the powers above.

Then—

"Sylvia."

The name detonates behind Jungkook's eyes.

He moves before he even registers it—before thought can catch up to instinct. One hand fisting V's collar, the other slamming him into the nearest tree with bone-rattling force.

His voice is low. Controlled. Deadly.

"I told you," he breathes, "to shut the fuck up."

V chokes out a laugh, even as Jeon's forearm presses against his throat. His smile is bloody, triumphant.

This is exactly what he wanted.

"There he is," V wheezes. "Knew you still remembered."

Jungkook tightens his grip.

"You don't get to tarnish her name with your mouth."

"Oh come on," V gasps, grin never faltering. "You're the one who made her matter."

Another inch and V's feet almost leave the ground. Jungkook's pulse is thunder in his ears. Vision tunneled, voice low.

"You don't touch her memory."

V's eyes shine with something unholy. "Why not? You left it out in the open."

Jungkook doesn't say anything. He just breathes—through his nose, slow, controlled—because if he doesn't, he'll crush the bastard's windpipe right here and now.

"You never even cried for her," V says, voice straining now. "Not once. I watched you. All that grief, and nothing came out but silence."

"Shut up."

"She begged for you, Jeon." V's voice slips into a mocking lilt. "Right before I pulled the trigger."

His hands go up, mimicking the movement of guns. Two fingers, cocked and pointed.

"Bang. Bang." V grins. "Guess some lessons need to be learned twice."

Jungkook's fist curls tight, shakes from the effort of not slamming it into V's face.

"She looked at you," V whispers, "and said thank you."

That's it.

Jungkook lets go of his throat—and punches him hard enough to split skin across V's jaw.

Bone cracks under knuckles. Blood spatters across bark. V staggers, but he's laughing—fucking laughing—as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Fucking finally" he slurs through red teeth. "Welcome back, Kooks."

Jungkook doesn't hesitate.

The second punch lands even harder than the first—knuckles slamming into cheekbone with enough force to whip V's head sideways.

Blood sprays from his mouth this time, a thick crimson arc that spatters across tree bark, across Jeon's hand, across the ground between them.

Still, V laughs.

It's breathless, giddy, delighted.

"Fuck, I missed this," he rasps, tongue darting out to taste the blood slicking his bottom lip. "So you're still human, huh?"

He licks it slow, like he's savoring it.

Like it's dessert.

Jungkook steps back just enough not to kill him.

"You don't get to call me that," he says, voice low and splintered. "Not anymore."

V blinks once, mock-innocent. Then that crooked smile curls back up, jagged and satisfied.

"Oh, right." He taps two fingers against his temple. "Because I'm not Taehyung to you anymore, huh? I'm V." His voice twists around the name like it's something sacred. "Your words, not mine. Or was it mine first? I forget."

Jungkook doesn't answer.

He can't.

Not when his pulse is pounding in his ears, his vision swimming at the edges with a red haze he hasn't let himself feel in months.

V steps closer, shoulders relaxed, body loose with that particular high only someone like him can ride. His lip's still bleeding, and he doesn't wipe it off this time—just lets it drip, red on his teeth, staining the corner of his mouth.

"God, you hit harder than I remember," he says, eyes gleaming. "Must be all that repressed emotion. You're like a soda can in the sun—shaking, sealed tight. One little crack and boom."

Jungkook doesn't say anything back. He's not looking at him anymore. He's looking through him. Past the trees. Somewhere far and unreachable.

But V keeps talking. Of course he does. Because once he has momentum, he's unstoppable.

"I always knew it was still in there," V's finger digs in his chest. "That spark. That fire. You've been playing dead so long I almost believed you were gone. Almost."

Jungkook's hands are fists again.

"You've been sleepwalking, Jeon," V continues, grinning like he's high on the taste of violence. "Dead-eyed. Robotic. Miserable. Just waiting for someone to fucking jolt you back awake."

He leans in close again. Too close.

"I'm just giving you a favor."

"You don't do favors."

V cackles, loud and wild. "Sure I do. You just don't like the way they taste."

Another pause. Jungkook's breathing is steady now, but it's forced. Every inhale pulled through clenched teeth.

"You think this brings me peace?"

"No," V says, licking blood off his thumb now. "I think it brings you clarity."

There's something predatory in the way he steps back, finally, giving Jungkook space—but not out of mercy, no.

It's rather just to admire the way he's held together by muscle memory and sheer willpower.

"You pretend you buried it," V says softly, quirking an eyebrow. "But it's still there. Under the skin. Under the guilt. Under all that self-hatred."

"You're wasting your breath," Jungkook replies.

But V just keeps smiling, lips slick, eyes blown wide with delight.

"You can't kill the part of you that liked it. The rage. The power. The need. You just locked it away in a box and lost the key."

V's voice drops now, low and rich and terrifyingly gentle.

"And I'm the only one who still knows where it's buried."

That's when Takama steps in.

No warning. No sound. Just a hand locking around Jeon's bicep before the next blow can fly.

"Enough," Takama says, firm and calm.

Not a command.

A lifeline.

Jungkook doesn't resist. Not yet. But his chest heaves, and the knuckles on his right hand are starting to swell. V leans lazily against the tree now, licking the blood of his lower lip that won't stop gushing out.

"Aw, don't stop now," he drawls, voice hoarse from the chokehold and the punches. "We were finally getting somewhere."

Takama doesn't even look at him.

His grip stays tight. Not painful. Just steady. Anchoring.

"Let it go," his second in command says under his breath.

Jungkook's eyes stay locked on V's face. Not with hatred. With control.

The kind that takes every ounce of strength to maintain.

"You should've stayed buried," he murmurs.

But V just laughs. Loud, unhinged, manic.

"And miss this reunion?" He wipes blood from his jaw with the back of his hand. "Never."

He steps back, licking the burgundy remnants from his fingers as he turns to walk away.

His voice floats over his shoulder like a final cut.

"Same time tomorrow?"

Jungkook doesn't answer.

He just watches him disappear into the trees, that thorned scent of roses lingering behind like a stain you can't scrub off.

Some poisons don't kill you right away.

They stay in your blood.

Rot you from the inside out.

Blood tastes like copper and victory.

It slicks across his tongue, drips warm from the split in his lip. He doesn't wipe it off. Why would he? It's a mark of success—Jeon's control fractured, broken open just enough for the truth to spill out.

The scream he didn't let out. The grief he still pretends doesn't exist.

Taehyung practically skips through the camp, boots crunching over frost-stiff grass. His knuckles sting from where Jeon deflected that second hit, but the ache feels earned. Like something sacred.

He exhales, slow and sweet, watching the vapor curl into the cold morning air.

That was better than sex.

No, scratch that.

That was sex.

Pushing Jeon to that edge—watching the cold, calculated sniper fucking explode in real time? That's the closest Taehyung ever gets to euphoria.

The high is still rushing through him as his tent comes into view. The buzz behind his teeth. The heat in his skull. He's not even pretending to slow down.

He lifts the flap with a flourish, practically singing, "Honey, I'm home," as he sweeps inside.

Jimin's already there. Cross-legged on the floor like some kind of aesthetic devotional painting. His salmon hair falls messily across his forehead, catching light like spun sugar. He doesn't startle—he never does—but his head tilts just slightly in that way Taehyung always notices.

"You're late," Jimin says, not looking up from whatever he's scribbling into that little black journal. "Let me guess. You pissed off Jeon again."

"Mmhmm," Taehyung hums, swaying into the room. "It was glorious."

He doesn't wait for an invitation. He never does. Two steps and he's folding himself into Jimin's lap like a lithe, bloody jungle cat.

Jimin grunts at the impact, but he doesn't move. Doesn't push him off.

He never does that either.

"You're bleeding," Jimin says quietly, brushing hair back from Taehyung's temple before his eyes drift down. "Lip's split."

"Little love tap," Taehyung breathes against the curve of Jimin's neck.

He nuzzles there a moment, deep inhale. Jimin smells like warmth. Like brown sugar and caramel and fabric softener.

Soft things. Domestic things.

He doesn't know why it makes his teeth itch, want to take a bite.

Jimin finally meets his gaze—and there it is.

That flash of worry in his eyes. That's the part Taehyung likes. Not the sympathy. The fact that it costs Jimin something every time he pretends this isn't poison.

"What did you say to him this time?"

Taehyung grins slow, letting his tongue drag over the blood at the corner of his mouth. "Just reminded him of something he didn't want to remember."

"Don't play stupid. This is getting out of hand." Jimin's hand brushes lightly against his jaw, tilting his face to examine the cut.

The pads of his fingers are warm. Careful. It makes something behind Taehyung's ribs twitch.

"Jeon's going to snap one of these days," Jimin adds, voice low.

"He already did," Taehyung whispers.

And he can't help it—he giggles. It bubbles out of him like champagne and gunfire, bright and wrong. He presses closer to Jimin, legs tangling, arms looping around his waist. The tension bleeds out of him slowly, replaced by that delicious hum of control reclaimed. He can still feel Jeon's rage in the fibers of his hoodie. It clings like perfume.

Jimin doesn't move. But his breathing changes. Shallow now.

"You're high on it again," Jimin murmurs.

Taehyung pretends to consider it. "Maybe."

"It's not healthy."

He shrugs, lashes fluttering as he leans in. "Neither are we."

Jimin sighs through his nose. Doesn't argue.

For a moment, they sit like that. Quiet.

Taehyung lets himself rest his head on Jimin's shoulder, lets the silence expand between them. This kind of stillness is rare. He doesn't know how to hold it without squeezing too tight.

Jimin's voice finally cuts through. "Let J-Hope look at it. That lip's going to get infected."

"For you?" Taehyung draws his thumb along the line of Jimin's jaw, soft and mocking. "Anything, love."

The way Jimin flinches is small. Almost imperceptible. But Taehyung feels it.

That's the thing about Jimin. He's not like the others. He doesn't play back. Doesn't bite or snarl or shoot. He just absorbs it all, like a sponge in a slow leak.

And Taehyung knows it's cruel—knows he's twisting something tender into something sharp—but he does it anyway.

Because this is what's left. This is what he has.

"You don't have to keep doing this," Jimin says, eyes on the floor now. "With him."

"Sure I do," Taehyung murmurs, already curling into his lap again, like a cat that doesn't want to answer. "The show must go on."

Jimin shakes his head once, slow. "You're always like this."

"Good things don't change."

There's no bite in it. No anger.

Just truth.

And then, before Jimin can speak again, Taehyung presses a finger to his lips. It's light. Thoughtless. Charged.

"No more lectures," he says. "Tell me something sweeter."

"Like what?"

Taehyung smiles, eyes gleaming. He leans in, close enough for Jimin to taste the blood on his breath.

"Tell me a secret."

Jimin's lips are warm beneath his finger. Too warm.

Taehyung holds it there a beat longer than necessary, just to feel the resistance—such a pretty little line of defiance, always broken down the same way.

Gently.

Repeatedly.

"Tell me a secret," he whispers again.

Jimin doesn't answer.

He doesn't have to.

Because his eyes do. The way they drop. The way his breath skips. The way his hands twitch against the floor like they're unsure whether to push away or pull Taehyung closer.

It's always like this. Hesitation that tastes like anticipation.

Taehyung leans in. Presses his mouth to Jimin's cheek, just shy of his lips, and breathes him in—caramel warmth, a little bit of sweat, and something almost shy beneath it.

He imagines for a second biting down. Hard. Leaving a mark. Branding softness with something it doesn't deserve.

Instead, he draws back and tugs Jimin forward.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Right into his lap.

Jimin doesn't resist. He never does. Just settles into the space Taehyung makes for him like he's made of silk and apology.

God, it's addicting.

"So obedient," Taehyung murmurs, mouth ghosting along the curve of Jimin's jaw. "You always melt so easily, Jiminie."

He feels Jimin's pulse jump under his hands.

Feels it in the way his thighs tighten just slightly, in the way his spine curves—not in retreat, no.

In submission.

Taehyung smiles. The kind that never touches his eyes.

This is the part that matters.

Not the tenderness. Not the connection. This.

The aftershock. The reward.

The thing that lets him bleed out the rest of Jeon's name from his teeth.

His hands roam lazily—up the curve of Jimin's back, slipping under the hem of his shirt just to feel the skin heat beneath his palms. He doesn't rush. He doesn't need to.

Jimin's already folding.

Taehyung tilts his head and brushes their lips together—barely. Just enough to taste breath.

Then he whispers, soft and cruel against Jimin's mouth, "Let me ruin you for a bit."

Jimin exhales shakily. Doesn't nod. Doesn't speak. Just presses closer.

Perfect.

And Taehyung?

Taehyung finally feels calm.

Not better.

But calm.

The high burns slower this way.

Controlled.

Directed.

And by the time Jimin's head tips back and Taehyung's fingers slide lower, he's already thinking of the next morning—when he'll do it all over again.

Because Jeon's fists can bruise skin.

But Jimin's silence?

It lets him feel powerful.

goal: 400 notes lmao I'm not doing this shit again in 24 HOURS.

next | index

🔪 taglist 🔪

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @redcherrykook @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @rpwprpwprpwprw @jimineepaboya @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @whothefuckisthishoe @mikrokookiex

© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[steveseddie]

jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours

for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompt: jacket | rating: t | wc: 999 | tags: post-canon, steve wears eddie’s leather jacket, they kiss about it

read on ao3

Eddie can’t find his leather jacket.

Steve is picking him up soon and he can’t find it. He turned his bedroom upside down looking for it (pun absolutely intended) and even riffled through Wayne’s clothes in case the old man grabbed it by mistake (he didn’t).

He concludes he forgot it somewhere and racks his brain for the last time he remembers wearing it. He thinks it was last week when he yelled at Wheeler for almost spilling soda on him at Steve’s house. Did Eddie take it off and leave it there by accident? Or did he have it on when he drove home?

He’s still trying to figure that out when there’s a knock on his door.

“Shit, shit,” he mutters, jumping to his feet. “Coming!”

He doesn’t want to keep Steve waiting and risk missing their movie so with a sigh, Eddie grabs a denim jacket instead.

“That’ll do,” he says, checking himself in the mirror before opening the door to reveal–

Steve in his leather jacket.

“Hi, Eds,” he says, wiggling his fingers.

Eddie tries not to swallow his tongue but Steve is wearing his jacket and he looks hot. He’s pretty sure he’s had a few fantasies that start like this.

“Uh, hey,” he says once he finally gets his brain working again. “I was looking for that.”

Steve looks down at himself like he just remembered what he’s wearing. Like he forgot he put on Eddie’s leather jacket. He shrugs. “You left it at my house the other day.” And- well, mystery solved but that doesn’t explain why he showed up wearing it.

“So, it’s yours now?” Eddie asks, narrowing his eyes even if he doesn’t care. Steve can keep it if he wants, he looks better in it anyway. “First you steal my vest and now my jacket, Harrington?”

A smirk stretches over Steve’s lips. “Maybe I just like wearing your clothes, Munson,” he says in a teasing tone. A flirting tone- Eddie has heard him use it with girls at Family Video.

“Besides,” Steve continues because Eddie is too flustered to think of a comeback, “I didn’t steal your vest. You gave it to me. Threw it, actually.”

“And you never gave it back!” Eddie protests. “After I let you borrow it to protect your modesty!”

“Please, man,” Steve snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. His shoulders and arms are significantly bigger than Eddie’s so the movement pulls on the leather. Eddie would care more about Steve stretching his jacket if he wasn’t so busy ogling him. “You did it so you could stop staring at my chest.”

Eddie gasps, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. He knew he wasn’t subtle that night, but he thought Steve would be too busy surviving to pay attention to Eddie’s eyes drifting to his bare chest. And after that, when they became friends and Eddie started tragically crushing on Steve, he tried to be more careful.

And apparently failed.

“I– uh. It was like, right there, dude,” Eddie stammers out. “And you– you got a jungle there and I–”

“And you like it,” Steve finishes for him.

Eddie winces. It’s not what he was gonna say but it’s the truth. He could deny it, but he can already feel a blush creeping up his face, coloring his cheeks.

“Is– is that a problem?”

“Eds, my only problem is that you haven’t done anything about it,” Steve says with a low chuckle, reaching out to play with one of the pins on his denim jacket. “I actually considered showing up in just your jacket, but Robin convinced me it was too much.”

Eddie squeaks. That would’ve been too much for his heart to handle, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know if I should hate Buckley or thank her,” he says, shaking his head to wipe that visual from his brain. “I probably would’ve shut the door on your face.”

Steve laughs, shoulders scrunching up and eyes crinkling at the corners. Eddie is struck by how beautiful he is, and how much he wants to kiss him.

“You can, you know?” Steve says, snapping Eddie out of his thoughts and making him realize he said that out loud.

Then he realizes what Steve just said. “I– I can?”

Steve’s grin is amused but sweet. “Yeah, Eddie. I want you to.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie swallows thickly.

Then he grabs hold of the jacket and pulls Steve inside, the door swinging shut behind them. As soon as they’re out of view, Eddie pulls Steve in by the back of the neck, kissing him squarely on the lips.

With a content noise, Steve cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair, deepening the kiss, crowding him against the wall.

They kiss until they need air and even then it takes a lot to pull back from Steve’s mouth.

When he does, Steve smiles at him– his lips pink, his hair mused, his cheeks flushed.

“What?”

“You should keep it,” Eddie says, smoothing the jacket over. “It looks better on you.”

Steve purses his lips. “I happen to think you look really hot wearing it.”

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters, tugging a lock of hair across his face, feeling his blush coming back at the compliment.

“But do you know where it would look better?”

“Where?”

Steve smirks at Eddie, his eyelashes fluttering coyly. “Your bedroom floor.”

Eddie’s breath hitches, something warm shooting through him. “What– what about the movie?” He asks. It’s a stupid question, but his brain might be melting out of his ears. Steve raises an eyebrow– Really? “Right, never fucking mind. Who cares? Come here, sweetheart,” he says, taking Steve’s hand and dragging him towards his room.

The leather jacket comes off first and it ends up on the floor. Eddie couldn’t care less about where. It could get sucked into the Upside Down along with all of his clothes and it wouldn’t matter to him.

Not as long as he gets to keep kissing Steve.

[thehelltingvilleclub]

Josh Levy - Teddy Bear with a Lightsaber

He's not fat.. okay he's fat AND he's big boned.

Joshua “Josh” Aaron Levy [05/04/80] Secretary of Science Fiction AOL / Online Users: [JediJunkies_80] Theme Songs: Science Fiction Double Feature - Me First and Gimmie Gimmies | Ghost - Mystery Skulls | Aliens Exist - blink-182

Favorite Shit: Star Trek, Star Wars, Dr. Who, Twilight Zone, Kaiju, Stargate SG-1 Battlestar Galactica, Klingon, Alternate Earths, Firefly, Planet of the Apes, 12” Action Figures, Torrent Sites, The X-Files, Babylon 5, Akira, Farscape, Boba Fett

Despite his (well earned) grievances, he still hangs around these fuckers cause he can't really seem to find solace anywhere else, even online spaces. He didn't expect to find any enjoyment out of going to tournaments with Jerry, but an excuse to get good city food and walk around the comic shops they were held in were enough in his book to keep him coming back. He even managed to find a space themed tabletop he likes to play, and... y'know.. maybe other reasons..

But we don't talk about him shit uh IT UH--

Never tell me the odds.

Oh Joshybear my beloved you poor antagonistic shitsmear.

His mom is in the hospital a lot more often or just straight up bed bound, which makes him kind of never want to leave his room out of guilt.

Yes, this dingus still blames himself for it, though it's not like his father helps with that.

Whenever he isn't holed up in his room, he's trying to drag somebody anybody out of the house to do something. Anything to get his mind off of stupid emotional shit--

He often goes with Jerry into the inner city when he has tournaments, especially when nobody else really wants to go. Sometimes he even covers Jerry bus fair or just borrows his mom's car.

However, this fucker HATES driving. It makes him the most anxious he's ever been his entire life. It is nothing like video games and it is nothing like the Millennium Falcon, that's for damn certain.

He also hates trying to park because he is deathly afraid of hitting the side of someone's car with the door.

Josh actually doesn't meet Matt at the same time as Jerry, surprisingly enough. Jerry introduces them when they bump into each other at the shop for a non-tournament related reason.

Josh nearly had a panic attack on the spot but it's fine

The moment he heard Matt had never seen the Star Wars films he nearly lost his mind.

This became the entire basis of Josh's attachment to the dude: "I have to show him the cinematic masterpiece that is this damn franchise."

And that's all it is. Mhmm. Totally. Don't ask why his hands are clammy and he's even more show-offy than normal whenever he's around. Don't.

please?

He works with his dad at their Synagogue as essentially a secretary and sound technician, but hey, it lets him write his fanfictions Reimaginings and scroll through blogs in peace, right?

And it keeps him out of his dad's hair and the house, so it's kind of a win-win-win.. win?

I love him

I want to eat him.

A DOUBLE POST???? HJGDSAJKHDKSJALHDLK You're welcome

Also don't worry guys, you'll get a WHOLE lot more info on Matt soon. He's not an affiliated member of the club and I didn't have many drawings of him (despite my.. excessive notes...) so I'm cranking them out as I post this.

NOW LOVE THE BIG MAN ON CAMPUS DAMNIT.

also hi I know his pants look weird shut up nothing else looked better.

[pheracy]

Hiii your kuroo headcannons were so cute! Could you do some for kenma plzz?

Kenma Kozume ✦ headcanons

He always wears his phone charger with him, God forbid he sees himself at a social event without the possibility of scrolling incessantly through his weather app.

He doesn't know why, but he always mysteriously wakes up with his feet outside the blanket.

He gets sick very often, but he usually doesn't mind since that gives him the excuse to stay at home.

He has the most awesome underwear, all thematic about a game or series he likes. He especially loves the Minecraft's creeper one and the one with little Pac-Man ghosts Yamamoto bought him as a birthday gift.

He is so sensitive to the cold that as soon as he steps out on the street, his teeth start chattering nonstop.

He is very good at using chopsticks.

You know he has a collection of plushies he's had over the years. When he's very sad, he buries himself in a pile of them and other stuffed animals.

He stays awake at night as long as he can, so when he can't take it anymore, he's so exhausted that when he gets in bed, he falls asleep almost immediately because his brain turns off.

He usually eats 2 pop-ice per day in summer, loves the coke flavour and the lemon-orange flavor.

He showed Kuroo what kpop and asmr are.

He's into Heartsteel (LoL music boygroup) and of course, his favorite character is Ezreal.

He matches the energy of Tomorrow by Together's music.

He dedicated their song "Cat & Dog" to Kuroo as a way to make fun of how he always seems to want to be around Kenma like a dog despite being in a team well known as cats.

Kuroo not only dedicated their song "PS5" back at him but also sings the verses everytime Kenma chooses to play with the gameboy rather than going out with him. He's soo dramatic about it.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ─── ⋆⋅♫⋅⋆ ───

It's me or the PS5

Tell me how you wanna spend your night

Tell me which of us is more your type

Seems like you can't decide

So if it's not me, then I'm probably gonna run it over

─── ⋆⋅♫⋅⋆ ───

He can't for the life of him catch a bus on time; it's like they run away from him.

He changes his wallpaper and lock screen image every week since he can't find one he likes enough to keep it for a longer time.

His handwriting is illegible. According to Lev, it looks like hieroglyphics.

His hair gets greasy real quick.

He only wears the glasses with blue light protector Kuroo got for him while he's there just not to get told off by him. After a while, he realized his eyes don't hurt that much so he wears them more often. He'll never tell Kuroo about it.

He's too lazy to cut the food with a knife and fork, so he eats it in bites.

He has the MOST beautiful laugh, the entire Nekoma nearly cry when they heard it for the first time. Kuroo did.

He convinced Shoyo to ask Asahi where he got his hairband because he's considering getting one or maybe tying his hair up. Shoyo doesn't want him to get bald.

He doesn't know how to swim. He's like a gremlin; you just don't get him wet by any circumstance.

He'd let his partner pluck his eyebrows for him; he'd find it relaxing.

You haven't seen a person who gives less of a shit about sports besides volleyball.

He ends up swallowing the chewing gum almost every time. He forgets he has it inside his mouth after a while and just gulps.

Thank you so much for this request! Thanks also for enjoying the hcs about Kuroo^^ Since I watched the Haikyuu movie, Kenma has grown on me as a character, so coming up with these was super fun. I love that we got to know him better, his struggles and thoughts, and oh my, that POV scene was simply cinema! He's so cute, and honestly, I see myself in him in many aspects; he's so relatable as one of the few introverted characters in Haikyuu. I hope you find these headcanons kinda accurate and entertaining <3 ⏤⏤ headcanons masterlist 🧭 navigation 📬∿ Requests are open and much appreciated! You can check my fandoms to ask for a poem, hcs and more about your fav characters and ships in Eng or Spa 𔘓 Credits: divider by @uzmacchiato ♡ banner template by @tinytowns

[usomads]

Hi 🌚 first time request from a friendly reader!

Could you do a Damian Priest as Santa smutty one shot? 🤭

Masquerade // Damian Priest x Reader

Author’s Note -> Hi, I saw this wayyyy too late for Christmas so instead we’re taking on New Year’s! This one is soooo long (my bad) but I really love this idea and hope y’all do too. Happy reading!

Plot -> A mystery man and a mystery woman cross paths for the first time, or is it? 

Pairings -> Damian Priest x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hickies, Oral Sex (Fem!Receiving), Papi Kink, Unprotected P in V, Public Sex, Creampie, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.4k

Sounds of bass thumping instantly filled your ears as you walked towards the entrance of the large house in front of you, wearing a shimmering gown that hugged your curves in all the right ways. You had been invited to a New Year’s Eve party by your best friend, Damian, but this wasn’t just any party. The host this year evidently wanted to switch things up so instead of the typical New Year’s party they decided to go with a theme, which was why an intricate silver mask adorned your face and hid your identity- the theme was masquerade. You reached the steps, pulling your phone out of your clutch and checking your texts, seeing a message from Damian sent about 5 minutes ago:

“I’ll keep an eye out for you tonight. I know you well enough that a mask won’t hide you from me 😉”

Your thumbs pressed the screen typing out a witty reply, but before you could press send your screen turned black. Shit, you cursed to yourself. You stared at the dead phone in your hands for a moment, thinking back to your preparations from earlier in the evening and scolding yourself for not thinking about putting your phone on the charger before you came. Shaking your head, you slipped your phone back into your clutch and headed inside, showing the invitation to the security at the door. The house was insane, you had never stepped foot in something so nice before, and the fact that you were here without Damian made it all the more nerve-wracking for you. Nothing a drink can’t fix though, right? Your eyes scanned the room looking for any sign of alcohol and spotted a bar at the other end of the room, adjusting the mask on your eyes and walking to it. The room buzzed around you, groups of people talking amongst each other, people dancing in the center, and music playing loudly over the speakers. You reached the bar and sat down, ordering a glass of champagne and watching the party around you until your eyes locked on a figure standing across the room from you, holding a glass of champagne himself and leaning against a pillar. The two of you stare at each other for what feels like a century and you swear the party surrounding you fades entirely, almost as if it were just the two of you. Seeing no sign of Damian anywhere and feeling bold, you stood up from the stool and walked over to him, your hips swaying as he continued to stare you down.

“You know, people either hide in the shadows because they’re looking for something or they want to come off as mysterious. So what might you be hiding?” You grinned at the man in front of you, teasing him with your words. He laughs, a smirk lining his lips as he speaks.

“A bit of both,” the man sipped his drink before continuing, “I could say the same about you. Are you always this bold, or is the mask talking for you?” 

You lean closer to him, lowering your voice. “Maybe it’s the mask… or maybe I’m just intrigued.”

“Intrigued, huh?” His finger traces the fluke in your hand, maintaining eye contact with you. “You might be too curious for your own good.”

A playful look crosses your face as you lean closer to him, your lips brushing his ear. “I’m just getting started. But if you don’t wanna play then…”

He laughs, clearly amused. “Who said I didn’t wanna play? I’ll go as far as you let me… so long as you can keep up.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can. But can you handle me?”

The tone in the man’s voice changes, laced with something deeper. Desire. He leans in, his arm brushing yours as he whispers in your ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart. I’d be careful if I were you…”

“Maybe I like a bit of danger,” your voice rang low in his ears, daring him to make a move. And he did, scanning you from head to toe before extending a hand for you to take. You obliged, wrapping your fingers around the rough surface of his palm as he guided you to the dance floor, pulling you closer to him as those same hands found their way to your waist. The heat radiates between you as your bodies sway to the beat of the music. 

“You’re not too bad at this,” you smirk at him.

“Not bad? I was hoping for resounding praise.”  His tone teases, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Alright, let’s not get carried away,” you laugh softly.

“What if I want to?” His eyes lock onto yours and send a shiver down your spine. All of a sudden, it’s just the two of you in this room. You realize you’re completely drawn to him in this moment, drawn to the mystery of the man before you. The thrill and the danger ignites something deep inside you, something you weren’t expecting to feel tonight. You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the crowd roaring around you, counting down to midnight. A fire burns between you with every count down to zero, and the mystery man you’ve been accompanied by all night leans down to you, his lips hovering over your own.

Five. “I think I have to kiss you.”

Four. “You think?” You tease.

Three. He tilts your head by your chin, his lips dangerously close to brushing yours.

Two. The electricity between you is intense, the anticipation growing with each passing second. His eyes are dark as they start into your own, flickering between them and your lips.

Before the last second he closes the gap between you, kissing you with a passion that takes the air out of your lungs. The kiss is deep, intense, and filled with something that you clearly can’t deny as you finally part, leaving you both breathless and momentarily stunned. 

“I never caught your name,” he smiles. 

“Why don’t we start with the masks?” You laugh, nerves slowly take over as you respond. The both of you hesitate momentarily, reaching up to remove the coverings from your faces, a slight nervousness overtaking you. Shock sets in instantly as you slowly reveal your identities to each other, realizing you knew very well who had captured your undivided attention all evening… in fact, you knew too well.

“D-Damian?”

“Y/N?” Damian smiles, a soft chuckle erupting from his chest. “I can’t believe we didn’t realize sooner, some friends we are right?” 

Your soft smile falters slightly, unconsciously dropping at the mention of you being just friends. Your mind was in a daze, having trouble wrapping your head around the fact that the man who drew you in so easily, captivated you, consumed your thoughts all evening– made you crave him in more ways than one was, in fact, your best friend. Suddenly you didn’t want to hear him call you his ‘friend’, and maybe that’s something you’ve been trying to suppress for a while, but now it was impossible to ignore. 

“Yeah…” you mumbled, “friends.” Damian’s brows furrowed at your sudden change in demeanor, his smile also faltering in an attempt to read you.

“Y/N…”

“I need some air...” You brushed past him quickly, retreating before he could follow you– leaving him alone on the dance floor.

After wandering around the house for a while, trying to find somewhere secluded, you stumbled upon a private balcony. You stepped outside, the cool and crisp air pricking your skin instantly as you held onto the railing and tried to calm your breathing. Tears brimmed your eyes as you replayed the events of this evening in your mind, from the conversation to the dancing to the kiss. The kiss. How could you not have known it was Damian? How could you have let this happen? And why did you want it to happen again, and again, and again? 

Damian’s words replayed in your head as a stray tear landed on your cheek– no. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t hide anymore. You wanted Damian, and tonight solidified it. And for a moment, when neither knew who the other was, you knew he did too. You knew he felt it too– that spark, that desire, that need. It was in the way his lips brushed against your ear as he teased you, in the possessive way his hands would find your waist, in the way his lips found yours with such passion and need. And now that you were no longer behind a mask, it was back to ‘just friends’. Back to ‘normal.’ But you knew it would never be ‘normal’ again.

“Y/N,” you were pulled from your thoughts by Damian, who from the sound of him catching his breath sounded like he had been running around the entire house trying to find you. You wiped your face, trying to hide that you had been crying, and spoke up.

“Leave me alone, Dames.” You refused to look at him, staring out at the garden below the balcony, trying to distance yourself from him.

“Y/N, please, talk to me.” He reached for you, his hand brushing your arm, but you swatted it away and turned towards him.

“I said leave me alone, Damian.” Your voice was more stern as you turned to face him, your eyes tinted with red and giving away that you had been crying. Damian’s worried gaze softens as he notices, a pang in his chest growing as he knows he’s responsible.

“Y/N, you know I can’t do that–”

“You’re gonna have to.” You tried to move away from him but he stops you in your tracks, searching your face.

“No! No, Y/N, I won’t. Something’s bothering you… was it the kiss?” You grow quiet, looking down at your feet as to try to avoid having to discuss it but Damian doesn’t let that happen. “Was the kiss not good? What’s going on, Y/N? Please, talk to me. I wanna know what’s wrong…”

“No, the kiss was great. I mean–” you shake the thought out of your head, trying to correct yourself. “The kiss was fine.”

“So what’s the issue? I–” Damian’s face lights up as realization hits him.

“That’s the issue, Dames. It shouldn’t have been that good. We’re friends–”

“But you don’t want that…” Damian studies you as you grow quiet again. He lifts your chin and your eyes flutter closed, not wanting to look at him. “And I don’t want that either.”

Your eyes open at his confession, wide as they search for his. If your head wasn’t spinning before, it sure was now as you tried to make sense of what was happening. He’s not serious, right?

“I am,” he chuckled. Shit, did I say that out loud? Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he continues. “I’ve felt that way for a long time now… I don’t want to go back to how it was before, Y/N– I don’t think either of us want to.” “But you sa–”

“Fuck what I said,” he whispers. “I’ve been hiding how I feel for too damn long. Being with you tonight, albeit under a mask, was the best night of my life…” he thinks about his words, almost reminiscing the events from earlier as he spoke. “To be able to kiss you, flirt with you, touch you how I’ve wanted to for so long… I’ll be damned if I give that up. And something tells me you don’t want me to either.” He eyes you carefully, watching as you take in this revelation from him and, in his mind, pleading with you to feel the same.

“I don’t…” you mumble, your voice lower than a whisper– nearly inaudible.

“I can’t hear you, darling, tell me what you want.” He lifts your chin again, wanting to hear what he’s been dying to hear for months finally fall from your lips. 

“You, Dame,” you whisper, a little louder than before. “I want you.”

His lips crash into yours hard, making you stumble backward and hit your back on the railing of the balcony. You hiss at the cool metal touching your skin, allowing him entrance and his tongue to dominate your mouth. His hands find your sides, turning you around and pulling your body into his. His mouth finds your neck just under your right ear, sucking and biting on the skin as one arm keeps you pressed against him– his hardening cock grinding on your ass, and the other dancing up your spine and finding the zipper of your dress. He slowly drags it down your back, his fingers sending chills throughout your body and a familiar ache to your core. 

“D-Dames,” you moan quietly, his mouth pressing wet kisses along your jaw, “S-someone could s-see us..”

“Let them.” He growled in your ear, “I’m not leaving this party, this balcony, until I get what’s mine.” You whimpered, his words sending a pool of wetness to the place you craved him most. You let the dress pool at your ankles, now topless in only a pair of lace panties– the cool January air hardening your nipples upon contact. You instinctively cover your breasts, feeling completely exposed to not just Damian but to any potential onlookers vying for a show. 

“Uh, uh,” Damian’s hands removed your arms from your chest, “you don’t get to hide from me anymore, you understand? I wanna see you, all of you.” You nod, letting your arms drop to their sides and allowing him to take you in completely. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, Y/N. I’m in awe of you, baby girl.” You blush for what seemed to be the millionth time this evening as he reconnects your lips, slower and more passionate than the last. Damian wanted you to feel what he felt for you, packaged up in a singular kiss, as his lips massaged yours deeply and lovingly now. He began to work down your body, dropping to his knees to come face to face with your throbbing core– dripping and aching all for him. 

“Sweetheart, you’re a mess… who’s got you like this, hmm?” You whined, involuntary bucking your hips towards him in an attempt to get him to touch you. 

“Please…”

“Gotta answer me first,” he smirked below you, loving how needy he had you. How you were completely and utterly his in this moment. 

“You…” you mumbled.

“Louder, darling, I can’t hear you.” Cockiness oozed from his voice, knowing he had you right where he wanted you and that you– nor anyone else, could take that away from him.”

“Y-you, Dames, fuck– please. I need yo– oh fuck.” Your eyes roll back as his tongue licks through your folds, placing open-mouth kisses along your pussy as he hiked one of your legs over his shoulder and ravaged you with his mouth. His tongue swirled along your entrance as the tip of his nose brushed your clit, sending volts of pleasure coursing through your body. You held onto the railing of the balcony behind you, keeping yourself as balanced as you could while Damian was eating you so good your knees were beginning to give way. Damian moaned against you, the sweet taste of your wetness settling on his taste buds and driving him to taste more of it. Your orgasm inched closer with every flick of his tongue, every moan that vibrated against your throbbing core, and you were a blubbering mess for the man on his knees before you who had every intention of worshipping your body like the temple it is– but not yet.

Damian pulls away suddenly, almost knowing you were on the brink of release as you cried out in response, pleads for him falling from your swollen lips.

“Shhh, don’t worry, baby, I gotchu. Papi’s gonna take real good care of you, I promise. But right now, he needs his pussy…” you shivered once more, somehow growing more turned on than before at his words. Him claiming you. Making you his. “Is that what you want, baby? Want Papi to fuck you good, right here where everyone can see how good you look all fucked out for me?”

“Dames, please…”

“Use your words, princess. Let Papi know what his baby girl needs.”

“I–” Your words caught in your throat, overwhelmed by the prior stimulation and the smooth but sinister way of his words. “I w-want you to fuck me, Papi. Please…” With a sudden movement Damian spins you around, bending you over the railing as your chest presses against the cool metal. Behind you, you hear the sound of him undoing his belt and dropping his clothing to the ground, joining them in a pile with your dress before feeling his hard member tease your entrance. 

“Tell me you need me again, baby, please.” His demand almost sounds desperate, like he himself is holding back his own moans at the thought of you desperate for him.

“I– I need you, Dame. Please, baby, please fuck me. Right he– mmm…”

He slips inside you with a moan of his own, groaning as he feels your walls tighten around his length. He slowly pushes himself deeper inside you, allowing you to adjust but also loving the cries coming out of your mouth as he stretches you around him.

“Fuck, Y/N, so tight f’me, baby… shit. Taking me so well, sweetheart.” Your pussy flutters around him, a groan slipping from his lips as he slowly pulls out and thrusts himself back in, going slow so he can pay attention to how tight your walls are squeezing his cock– but also how your face contorts with every movement of his hips.

“F-faster, please..” And that was all Damian needed, a signal that you were ready for more of him. His hips sped up movement as he thrusted into you from behind, the force jolting your body with every snap of his hips as you cry out in pleasure. His hands hold your hips for leverage, kneading the skin roughly enough that surely bruises would form by tomorrow morning– but you didn’t care. You were drunk, not on champagne but on the feeling of his cock inside you driving deeper and deeper into you, a feeling of euphoria that you never wanted to escape. A hand of his came forward to your clit and rubbed slow circles on the swollen bud, making you instantly tighten around him and cry out his name for all who could possibly hear it. You were close, there was no denying it, and you were prepared to coat his length in your desire for him– only him, and he knew it too.

“I feel you, princess. Go ahead, cum for me. Wanna feel you, baby.” Your release washed over you with force as your body grew limp, your orgasm consuming all the energy left in your body to give to Damian and Damian alone. Your pussy clenched around him as he continued to buck his hips inside you, the sounds of his thrust mixed with your juices echoing outside as he approached his own release.

“Y/N, f-fuck, I’m close, baby girl… gonna fuck this pussy full of my cum… shit.”

“C-cum for me, Papi, let me have every last drop. G-give it to me…” You whimpered in between thrusts and not long after he followed suit, releasing ropes of his cum along your walls and filling you completely– just like he said he would. He brings you upright and wraps his arms around you, holding onto you as his orgasm hits him and finding your lips once more for another passionate kiss. The two of you stay there for a moment, lips locked and fully exposed as you ride out your orgasms together. A few moments pass and your position remains the same, but your attention gets drawn to the grounds below– where guests are leaving the party and heading home for the evening. You stare at each other, wide-eyed, and laugh– collecting your clothing and dashing inside so as to not get caught by any of the guests.

“So, my place?” You smile and nod at Damian, who merely an hour ago had been a stranger in a mask but was now no longer a mystery. You didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, shit, you didn’t know what would transpire after you leave here but one thing is for certain: now, there’s no hiding it.

[queenofmorningstar]

Caught Between the Vees

The Vees x f! Intern Reader

Summary: You're Vox's date to the gala, where information is flowing like champagne, and you're quick to grab it.

CW: The Vees being unhinged, Vox has some brain cells. Vox tries hardest not to simp, but fails. P in v, fingering, blowjob. Appearance Of Helluva Boss Villains.

Word Count: 4.8K

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5

Chapter Four: Tv Star

Vox’s arms were crossed, lips pursed as he leaned against the wall, eyes flicking between Val and Velvette, who were both lounging far too comfortably.

Vel was upside down on the couch, legs kicking up over the backrest, her phone in her hands as usual. “So, is no one gonna talk about the fact that I technically called dibs?”

Valentino snorted around his cigarette and waved lazily from his seat. “You didn’t call dibs, you just moved fast. That’s not the same thing, baby.”

“Fast?” Velvette grinned. “She came onto me. I didn’t even need to ask nicely.”

Vox leaned against the edge of the bar and gave a short laugh. His screenface flicked to a flat-line smile, and an expression of exaggerated boredom. “You two act like I wasn’t gonna get there eventually,” he said, sipping his liquor. “I’m playing the long game.”

“Is that what we’re calling sulking now?” Val drawled, flicking ash into a crystal tray. “Damn, baby, just say you are salty and move on.”

Vox rolled his eyes and smirked, but the twist of his mouth said he wasn’t denying it. “I can’t believe you guys fucked her first.”

“Skill issue, darlin’.” Vel mocked him. “You’re trying to be mysterious but we all know you have a large file of her in your system.”

The other two seemed in a mood to irritate him.

“She was delicious,” she drawled, stretching like a cat in sunlight. “Like, I knew she’d be fun, but—ugh. That whimper she makes when she’s close?,” She flicked her gaze across the room with purpose, “And she did—twice.”

“I just think it’s funny,” he said, the pitch of his voice warping just slightly, “how you two couldn’t wait. I mean, really? I was working on a connection. She actually talks to me. We have shared interests. But you two jumped on her like horny animals the second she stepped into the room.”

Valentino took a slow sip, unbothered. “We just didn’t waste time.”

“She’s smart,” Vox snapped. “She respects my ideas and innovations.”

Velvette bit her lip, eyes glittering with mischief. “Mmm, she respected my mouth just fine. Especially when I had her legs shaking around my shoulders.”

Vox’s grip tightened on his glass.

Val snorted. “You didn’t see her when I had her bent over the couch. Both holes full, moaning like a bitch in heat. She loved it.”

Vel chuckled. “I did see some photos of her in that pearl set from your cameras. Lovely. I get why you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous,” Vox hissed. “I just think I should’ve had the first go. She likes me.”

Val hummed, amused. “Sweetheart likes all of us. That’s kind of the point.”

Velvette went back to her phone. “Don’t worry too much. She asks about you all the time. Gets this little smile when your name comes up.”

Vox relaxed at that.

Velvette was the first to break the brief silence that followed Vox’s pissy tantrum, stretching her arms overhead.“So…who’s gonna be the first to say it?”

Val cocked a brow. “Say what?”

“That we don’t want her to leave.”

Vox raised an eyebrow. “…Obviously.”

Val shrugged, slow and lazy, like the idea hadn’t occurred to him in full until this very moment. “Huh. Shit. You’re right. I kinda do want to keep her.”

“I mean,” Velvette said, “we could always just lock her up. Real pretty cage. Satin sheets, room service, a wardrobe full of lingerie and nothing else.”

Valentino let out a low, dark chuckle. “She’d look damn good behind gold bars. All spoiled and pampered. I’d collar her. Something delicate. Diamonds, maybe.”

Vox leaned back, watching them both with a raised brow. “You two sound deranged.”

“Oh please,” Vel purred. “You’re worse than us. You’re just good at hiding it.”

He didn’t respond, which, of course, was answer enough.

“Or or… we kidnap her?” Val offered, completely serious.

“No,” Vox deadpanned. “We are not kidnapping her.”

Val’s expression was halfway between offended and amused. “Why the hell not?”

“Because she’d escape,” Vox snapped. “She’d outwit her way out and have the whole building wired to explode, if she was pissed enough.”

Velvette looked surprised. “Oooh, I guess it does help building that long connection.”

“She’s not gonna want to stay if we trap her,” Vox continued, pacing now, caught in the kind of manic calculation. “She has to want to belong to us.”

Vel raised her brows. “I know that face you’re making. You've got something on her?”

Vox shrugged. “She has too much of a clean slate, it’s suspicious. I’m sure I’ll find something soon.”

__________________________________

The morning light was unforgiving. Everything ached.

After dragging yourself through the usual routine, you were getting ready, and then the doorbell rang. 

When you opened the door, a sleek black box sat neatly on the mat, with Vox’s logo, so you brought it inside. 

Inside, nestled in dark velvet lining, was a dress. An elegant, asymmetrical number in deep, midnight blue. Sleek fabric that shimmered subtly when it caught the light—simple at first glance, but clearly tailored for someone he’d studied. Your curves, your height, the way you move. He’d thought about this.

And below the dress—matching heels. Jewelry. And it wasn’t the only thing matching. A bra and panties, with Vox’s logo. That smug fucker.

Tucked into the side was a handwritten note. You swallowed, suddenly far more awake than you’d been two minutes ago.

“A gift to wear for today’s meeting. It’s more of a show for fake smiles and business. Though I know I won’t be bored with you by my side.

—V”

You saw the invitation attached to it, your name under Vox’s plus one. A very fancy invitation. This was full fucking gala. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

_________________________________

It draped your body with uncanny precision, as if tailored by hands that had studied you from every angle, memorized every curve. The sweetheart neckline framed your curves, the plunge dipped low, scandalously so, a narrow line of bare skin begging to be traced. The slit along your thigh was high, as you tugged on the gloves.

Your nervousness was at an all time high as you smoothed your hands over your hips and stepped into the heels.

The static began before Vox arrived.

You had…chatted with him online, if one can call it that. You had commented on one of his public projects, a design overhaul. 

You had ideas. Not critiques, not flattery. Actual, tactical improvements. Vox hadn’t expected it. He certainly hadn’t expected to agree.

Since then, the messages had become... frequent.

The part he didn’t admit, not even to himself, was how often he found himself waiting. For your name on his screen. For your thoughts. For a sentence that would needle under his skin in that way only yours could.

He’d caught himself adjusting projects to see what you’d say. Leaving things half-finished so you could find the gaps. Vox had never made room for anyone like that, never cared to.

The static got louder.

A flicker in the far corner of the room, from your TV. The faint crackle of a dead channel and flickering of lights.

You didn’t turn. You simply reached for a pair of earrings, deep sapphire drops and fastened them without urgency.

He was behind you by the time you adjusted the last one. “Subtle as ever,” you muttered.

When you met his gaze in the mirror, he was leaning casually against the frame in a deep navy suit, not quite matching your dress but definitely meant to compliment it. Like he’d walked out of a magazine and into your personal space with full awareness of the effect he had.

“You’re early,” you said without looking.

“I like watching the process,” he replied, voice near her shoulder now. “Seeing how something magnificent comes together. It looks better than I imagined.”

“I bet you imagined a lot.” You quipped before you could stop yourself.

“Oh, I did,” He immediately whispered, his hands on your shoulders. Too close.

“And the rest of the… ensemble?” he asked, voice dipped low.

You gave him a long look. “I suppose you’ll spend all evening wondering.”

His grin glitched wider. “Cruel.”

Vox took a slow turn around your apartment like it was a showroom he was about to purchase. Sleek blue claw-like digits trailed across your bookshelf, tapping one spine, then another. 

“I see the other two got to you first,” he said casually, plucking a mug from the counter and inspecting it like it offended him. “Sloppy work. No follow-through. And so unsophisticated.”

You gave him a flat look. “They didn’t hear me complain.”

Vox’s smile curled on his screen. “Ah, but you didn’t beg them to stay either, did you?”

Your pulse raced. It didn't seem like he was competing, no, he seemed to say...I know I'm your favourite.

He stepped closer; but you didn’t step back. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You had a feeling he didn’t tell you this ‘meeting’ was a gala on purpose. He wants to watch you falter just once.

Vox murmured. “You wear my color like it was always meant to be yours.”

Your breath caught.

Your situation has gotten more complicated now. You have to betray them at some point but… you didn’t want to leave either. And you don’t want to betray Charlie either.

He stepped back finally, offering his arm like a gentleman.

__________________________________

The car ride had been silent and you were content watching out of the window, and Vox tapped on various screens displayed in front of him.

The gala was already in full swing by the time they arrived. 

Soft chandeliers hung low; wealth filled the space. Everyone here was somebody, or trying to be. The gala had gothic red colours, like the rest of Pride Ring.

Heads turned as they entered, and whispers followed them. You tried to keep your face neutral, and observe. Vox’s hand remained on the low of your back. 

Conversations faltered mid-sentence, eyes turned to follow their path. Some greeted with over-familiar warmth, others with caution. 

And yet, despite the gravity he carried, he never walked more than a step away from you.

They stopped at clusters of power-players—investors, tech moguls, architects who influenced Hell’s politics. Vox's voice was smooth, clipped, and professional, and you enjoyed watching him in his element.

He didn’t walk ahead of you or present you like a prize, which surprised you. He kept you precisely at his side, a half-step within reach. And every time Vox leaned toward someone with a proposition or a promise, he glanced at you first. For your insight.

You answered back to him in small nods and murmured observations, only for his ears.

The crowd noticed.

They noticed how his attention, sharp as it was, always bent in your direction before it snapped back to whoever he was dealing with. They noticed how he adjusted his approach based on your words. And more importantly—they noticed how he listened.

There was something dangerous in that. Because Vox didn’t listen to anyone.

He cut through conversations like a scalpel, left deals on the table half-finished if they no longer amused him, left people hanging on promises he’d never intended to keep. He brought you into the fold of every discussion, every negotiation, every web he wove.

They were halfway through the circuit of the room when a familiar imp, Crimson, approached them.

“Vox, my friend,” Crimson drawled, reaching out a hand. “I've been waiting for a moment with you all evening.”

Vox returned the greeting with his usual detached politeness. “You and half the room, Crimson. What makes your moment worth my time?”

Crimson didn’t flinch. “Because I’ve got an exclusive shipping corridor through the lower circles—clean, untouched, and ready to be digitized for your network. Imagine it: your signals running through every infernal trade route. We split it fifty-fifty.”

You said nothing at first. Vox casted a glance at you, silent.

Crimson, oblivious, pushed on. “No interference, no watchdogs. I’ve even paid off the Greed ring enforcers. You’d be foolish not to take it.”

You tilted your head, just slightly. “And how long before your 'exclusive' route is compromised by your interference?”

Crimson blinked. “What—”

“They’ve been scouting that same corridor for weeks,” you continued, voice calm, almost pleasant. “You haven’t bought off their informants. You’ve just distracted them. Temporarily. The moment Vox invests in your little scheme, they’ll know. And they'll come for it. Hard.”

The air tightened. Crimson’s smile strained. “And you are…?”

Vox didn’t let him finish.  

He turned slightly toward you, as if Crimson didn’t exist now. “Go on.”

You went in for the kill. “You’re selling a liability dressed up as an opportunity. And you thought Vox would be too distracted by the gaudiness to notice the risk.”

The silence that followed cracked like ice. Crimson’s mask faltered, fury and embarrassment clawing at his composure. “I don’t recall inviting her into this conversation.”

Vox’s screen turned slowly back toward him. His voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “Then you’ve made your second mistake tonight.”

The tension snapped. A few nearby demons subtly drifted away, pretending to be interested in the art installations, but their ears stayed tuned to the fallout.

Crimson muttered a curse, smoothed his coat, and retreated with as much dignity as he could muster, which wasn’t much.

Vox said nothing for a moment. Then, quietly said to you, “I would’ve let him string the pitch a little longer.”

You gave a soft, knowing smile. “You would've been bored within a minute.”

A low burst of laughter escaped him. “Correct. And now I’m entertained and unburdened.”

His gaze lingered on you. You didn’t just protect his interests, but enhanced them. Where he tore things apart, you slipped the knife in between the ribs with surgical precision. 

_______________________________

The waltz began with a slow melody, the crowd shifted to form pairs in smooth precision, toward the center of the ballroom.

Vox was speaking with two high-level investors near the dais, his tone clipped but magnetic. You could hear the trace of static in his voice—his usual sign that he was barely restraining the urge to end the conversation. He wouldn’t miss you, not for a few minutes, right?

You stepped away with the kind of practiced silence that wouldn’t draw attention. Your eyes swept the floor until they landed on him—Striker.

The outlaw and Vox’s secret little weapon supplier. He shouldn’t have been here. He hated galas. But Vox had insisted, probably to keep the weapons trade on a short leash. And Striker, ever the opportunist, never said no to a chance to stir the pot.

You caught him just as the music pulled into a smooth dip. “Dancing alone, cowboy?”

Striker blinked, surprised but not displeased. “Doll, I didn’t know Vox let you off the leash.”

You smiled sweetly. “I don’t work well with leashes.”

He chuckled low, offering his hand with a dramatic bow. He took her hand, and they joined the swirl of bodies under the blood-crystal chandelier. Striker moved well, unexpectedly elegant for someone who normally solved problems with violence.

They moved in a quiet rhythm for a moment. “Tell me,” you said lightly as you spin, “how someone like you ends up dealing in such... divine materials.”

Striker raised an eyebrow, but he grinned. “You mean the angelic steel?"

That confirmed your suspicions. “I mean exactly that.”

He twirled you, letting the movement give him a moment to think.

You pressed forward. “So, this smuggling pipeline of yours… how do you pull it off without the Exorcists breathing down our necks?”

Striker’s pride swelled at the question. He saw an opportunity to impress. And god, did he take it.

“Well,” he said, voice dropping into that conspiratorial drawl, “most of these uptight angels don’t bother watching the lower districts. We gathered all the angelic steel left behind after extermination. The angels have endless supply, so they litter it around there. Black market salvagers sweep it, I get it refined, and poof, it’s in Vox’s vaults before sunrise.”

You raised your eyebrows, just enough to look impressed. “Clever.”

“Damn right it is. It’s all about timing and contacts. I use a backdoor through Lust’s border—nobody checks shipments going out of Asmodeus’s territory. Too busy with... other things.”

You laughed softly, your work was done here. You pulled back, gave him a coy little smirk, and twirled herself out of his arms, spun backward into another set of arms waiting just behind you. Arms that caught you without hesitation, like they’d been expecting you all along…

________________________________

It took less than a second for Vox to find you. You were on the far side of the dance floor, with Striker.

Striker’s hands rested a little too comfortably at your waist, his cocky smile in full display as he leaned in to say something, likely some arrogant pitch masked as flirtation. Vox saw the curve of your lips, soft and amused. You tilted your head, inviting more.

But Vox knew better. He’d seen that tilt before. It was the angle you used when you were dissecting someone. You were studying Striker, and Vox didn’t know why. That was what irritated him most.

Vox’s hands flexed at his sides, sleek fingers twitching in suppressed agitation. A thousand calculations ran behind his screen. What were you after? What was he offering? And why hadn’t you told him?

It wasn’t about trust. Against his better judgment, against the nature of Hell itself, he trusted you. Which made this sting more.

He began to move. He crossed the floor with precision, never breaking eye contact with the pair, though only Striker noticed. And Striker, of course, smirked. That was the moment Vox arrived.

In one seamless motion, you slipped from Striker’s grip and pivoted gracefully into Vox’s arms, your body aligning against his like it was the only place you belonged.

Your smile returned, faint and unbothered, as if this had all gone exactly to your plan.

Vox caught you instinctively, arms settling around your waist. His screen flickered once. “Enjoy your detour?” he asked, voice low, modulated just above the music.

You looked up at him with those bright, clever, utterly unrepentant eyes. “Immensely. Striker’s quite talkative when he thinks he’s being clever.”

Of course you had a reason. He pulled you closer, turning them into the rhythm of the dance with practiced grace.

“And here I thought I was the manipulative one,” he murmured.

You leaned into him, just slightly. “I learned from the best.”

That did it.

You moved with him, matching every step, every subtle shift of weight, as if you had always belonged in his orbit. And Vox knew, more clearly than he ever had before, that you weren't just his partner in business. You were his partner in war.

With a sound like a channel switching frequencies too fast, the ballroom around them flickered and vanished.

They rematerialized in a burst of blue light, the air humming with residual voltage. His room was bathed in electric cobalt glow, the walls covered in various screens.You would have thought it was the room of a nerd gamer. The room looked straight out of cyberpunk fiction. The ceiling was…part of an aquarium. The water rippled above, and you saw sharks swimming around in circles above.

“You really couldn’t wait till dessert?” you teased, walking deeper into his space. But your teasing smile dropped when you saw his expression.

He stalked toward you until he was close enough that the glow from his screens painted your skin in electric blue. “I want to know every thought you’ve ever had. Every theory, every witty remark, I want everything you have, darling.”

Oh. oh.

The second his mouth touched yours, the world fell away. His lips were soft but hungry, like he was trying to memorize your taste, like he was starving and you were the answer to every ache he’d never named. Your heart thundered against your ribs, frantic and traitorous.

Everything about you—the tilt of your head, the way your fingers grabbed at his jacket like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to pull him closer or push him away—it all made his blood race in the best way. Finally. Finally.

But then you kissed him back, and Vox felt something unravel. One of the screens cracked behind them, reacting to the sudden spike in his pulse.

His mouth descended to your throat, kissing, licking and bit down, just enough to make you gasp and smiled against your pulse when he felt it flutter like wings. His fingers dipped under the hem of your dress, tracing the line of your thigh, not touching anywhere you truly wanted him but just close enough to make you ache.

Vox’s lips were on your jaw then your collarbone, then lower, his teeth scraping just enough to make you squirm. “I want to see how fast I can make you forget every clever thought in your head,” he whispered.

This kiss was filthier. All tongue and teeth and desperate friction. His hips pressed into yours like a question, and your answer was the soft moan he swallowed whole. Every part of him wanted to be everywhere—his hands roaming, mapping you like he was trying to memorize your body.

"You're unreal," he muttered against your lips, his fingers sliding to trace your ribs then down the small of your back. “Like someone designed just to fuck with me.”

The moment the zipper hit the base of your spine, your dress slid down like it was relieved to be dismissed. Vox’s hands followed it, palms dragging over your skin slowly, like he needed to feel every inch of what had been hidden from him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, just looking at you. “You actually wore it.”

The bra was delicate and right between your breasts, stitched in electric blue shimmered his logo. The matching panties clung to you like a second skin with the same signature mark in front of your pussy.

He spun you around, catching you effortlessly as he dropped into the bed behind them and dragged you onto his lap, facing away from him. Your back to his chest, your thighs spread over his. 

Since the screens were off, the black surface reflected them. You felt blood rush to your cheeks.

“Look,” he said, one hand sliding up her stomach to cup her breast, thumb brushing the embroidered logo. “Look how fucking perfect you are in my colors.”

His other hand slid between your legs, pressing over the logo on your panties before slipping beneath it. Two fingers dragged through slick heat, slow, teasing, making you gasp and buck back against him.

He moaned, rutting up against your ass. “I want to watch your face when you come. I want to see every twitch, every whimper, every time you lose control.”

His fingers plunged in and you cried out, legs spreading wider instinctively. He curled them just right, and your hips jerked in his lap, the friction driving you insane.

You managed to open your eyes back to your reflection. Your head rolled back on his shoulder. His hand buried between your thighs. Your bra pulled down, exposing your breasts—one already in his hand, the other bouncing with every panting breath.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled. “And you’re going to come just like this. On my fingers and wearing my name.”

“Vox—” Your voice cracked, high and desperate. 

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Vox,” you moaned, nails digging into his thighs, legs trembling. “I’m gonna—fuck!”

He bit down on your neck, fingers working faster, harder, relentless and perfect.

Your body arched, mouth open in a silent scream as you come hard, clenching around his fingers, your thighs shaking.

Vox groaned, burying his face in your neck as he slowed his fingers, coaxing you through it. “That’s it,” he whispered. “So fucking beautiful. I could watch that forever.”

You were still panting when he finally pulled his hand away and brought it to his mouth, licking your cum off his fingers with a hum of satisfaction.

You didn’t like his smug grin, as if he knew he was always in control. You shifted in his lap, but instead of turning to straddle him like he expected, you slid down.

Vox stilled. “What are you—?”

Your fingers moved to his belt, your gaze locked with his as you unbuckled it. “You’ve had your fun,” you said, voice smooth, almost casual but your hands betrayed you, shaking slightly.  “Now I get mine.”

Vox’s head tipped back, a sharp hiss escaping him as you unzipped him and pulled him out. He was achingly hard, flushed and leaking at the tip. You wrapped one hand around him, giving a single slow stroke, and watched his body twitch.

“Look at you,” you murmured, thumb swiping over the head. “So fucking needy.”

You smiled innocently and leaned in. The first drag of your tongue along the underside of his cock had his hips jerk. His blue-tipped claws scratched into the sheets. “Shit…fuck—”

You licked him again, slower this time, savoring him. 

Then you took him into your mouth. You sucked in just the head, tongue swirling around it. Vox’s hands twitched, desperate to grab you, to thrust up, but he held back barely.

His hand found the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. “Deeper,” he whispered. “Please—fuck—deeper.”

You took him down slowly, letting his cock slide past your lips, past your tongue, until your nose brushed his pelvis and he groaned like you’d stabbed him with pleasure. You pulled back, slow and wet, then repeated it, faster, then again—until your head was bobbing in steady rhythm.

Vox was falling apart.

The way his voice cracked when you gagged a little, the way his thighs trembled when you moaned around him. Then you sucked him in, hard and deep, while stroking the base with one hand.

With a sharp, guttural groan, Vox’s whole body tensed. His hips bucked just once, and then he came—hot, thick, spilling into your mouth as he cried out your name like it hurt. You tried swallowing most of it, then slowly pulled off with a lewd pop.

He was still breathing like he’d just fought off a damn riot, head thrown back, lips parted, cock twitching despite just finishing in your mouth. But seeing you like this–

Vox was on his feet in a second, lifting you effortlessly and tossing you onto the bed behind them like you weighed nothing. You bounced on the plush mattress, laughing breathlessly as he stalked after you, already pulling his shirt over his head.

Your legs parted for him instinctively, and he settled between them, one hand braced beside your head, the other running down your side like he couldn’t believe you were real. 

His eyes roamed your body, then his mouth crashed onto yours, tongue plunging in deep, and his hips aligned with yours, cock pressing hot and hard against the soaked fabric of your panties.

Vox pulled your panties aside and slammed into you in one rough, hungry thrust. You cried out, arching under him, nails clawing at his shoulders. You felt him so deep, stretching you open with a delicious burn that made your head spin. “Fucking hell, Vox—”

His rhythm was brutal at first, but then he slowed, grinding in deep, letting you feel every inch as he stared down at you like he was gazing at art.

Your eyes fluttered open. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” he whispered, brushing hair from your face. “The smartest, most infuriating, most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.”

You pulled him down and kissed him hard, legs wrapping tight around his waist, locking him in.

He picked up the pace again, pounding into you now, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room along with your moans, his groans, and the creak of the mattress as he drove deeper into you.

“You feel…fuck—you feel so good,” he gasped, voice losing control and buffering. “So tight, so warm—god.”

He shifted, grabbing one of your legs and hooking it over his shoulder. The new angle sent him even deeper, and you screamed, back arching off the bed as your orgasm slammed into you like a wave.

He watched you unravel completely under him. Your mouth open, your body shaking—and it shattered his control. He thrust wildly now, panting your name like a prayer, chasing his release.

When he came, his whole body seized as he spilled inside you, deep and messy and claiming.

He collapsed on top of you, breath ragged, heart pounding like a war drum against your chest. As you tried catching your breath, you chuckled at his screen with error messages.

[WARNING: LETHAL LEVELS OF BEAUTY DETECTED]

[PROXIMITY ALERT: GOD-TIER BABE IN RANGE]

[MELTDOWN IMMINENT]

[CRITICAL FAILURE: HEART RATE UNSTABLE]

[REASON: HER]

[SOLUTION: UNKNOWN. MAYBE JUST DIE??]

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

Notes: The dress I imagined for the reader.

Vox’s room as I imagined.

The Foursome and Finale is coming soon and I can't wait for you guys to read it!!

Next>>>>

[impyssadobsessions]

DPXDC Prompt: Amnesia Danny learns a lot more about himself than he ever did before.

Danny ends up with amnesia after a recent ghost fight that landed him straight into the Kent's family farm.

He had no reason not to believe he must be an alien too- from Ma and Pa's reactions to his powers to his acceptance into hero circle.

That is until he met Jon's friend Damian- who recognized him immediately. Was he not from space? Despite his love of stars- if he wasn't from space then where did he come from?

When he slowly discovers more and more of his past nothing makes sense. What version of his past is true? Who was he? Why did so many people claim to know him?

He hoped he can figure it out soon before a war develops between fractions that lay claim to him.

(not demon twins but perhaps siblings ;3 or some secret third thing) Below just continuation of my thoughts I posted on discord ;3

Just makes me think the more Danny learns something else throws a wrench into! Like- Imagine he starts learning about the LOA and what Damian knows- then bam GIW are claiming Danny's hero persona- to be Phantom.

And everything keeps going down a rabbit hole.

Even ghosts or perhaps the ghost he was fighting that caused this confronts him to- or to the media at large. Revealing something else to him. Perhaps it was dan or a version of- or its Plasmius

Or a new ghost entirely with ties to that.

Or could add ghost king to really mess with stuff- and its Pariah wanting his crown back.

Just so many ways to make this into a shit show.

Danny's friends and sister getting involved too- happy to see Danny safe- but Danny just confused.

His brain hurts and he's at a lost at who he is.

Even worse if his dna did show him as part alien. So his world is flipped on its head even once he remembers himself- or the part of himself he knows the most.

I think it would be a fun idea to play with. Creating more and more mystery. And by the time Danny gets some idea- something else happens.

LOA is pissed, GIW are too- Ghost problem is ramping up - everyone wanting to take claim to Danny and Danny just wants to know who he is and how stop the fighting.

But imagine Danny getting acceptance from the league- and maybe they finally get answers who Danny's parents are- why does he have alien dna Danny actually going through puberty with his powers same time as his accident so he never knew and imagine Danny saves the world and becomes into himself. He still doesn't have all the answers but he has enough to know WHO he is- and he's not going to let others taint that image for him.

He's sure he'll find out more as time comes but for now- he's who he strives to be. it definitely be such a big ass story but it would be fun to play with different identities maybe a few red herrings if you want to be extra- but i think just even knowing all of danny's identities be interesting. how people have perceived him to what he actually has done and was. maybe before they use slade to make respawn they experimented with another hero dna or an alien dna in general that was unfortunate to cross their path- and the two grew up together- but found Damian's compassion towards the other as a hindrance. maybe booster gold or impulse know danny from the future due to time travel and/or how he was seen. or if anyone from bad time line before traveling back only remember Dan. ewe luckily Ma and Pa kent supporting Danny through this and protecting him- bats too

So he isn't all on his own but he's certainly confused.

Imagine they help him the most in accepting who he is.

[r0-boat]

Whb Cats headcannons

Enjoy just screwing around.

Sfw cutting for length

Satan (Turkish Angora)

Has Zoomies at 3:00 a.m. There are many nights when you wake up and try to fall asleep and then hear a crash in your kitchen. You cover your head, pretending that you didn't hear it. before hearing another crash in your kitchen.

Use to scratch up all your furniture It took you months to finally move him to scratching at cat trees and scratching posts. He goes through him like crazy but at least it's not your furniture.

You put a camera around his neck because you thought it would be cute You were shocked to find out that your cat outside the house is a little menace to society digging up people's gardens, and bullying other cats. You decided to keep him inside for a while.

Mammon (Maine Coon)

Once, he somehow got out and came back with $100. You don't know where he got it. Your eyes widen, and you check to see if it is even real because you honestly couldn't believe your eyes. The last time he got out, he mysteriously brought back more money. Now, you just let him do as he pleases, hoping he brings back more, and he does. That's why he gets the more expensive cat food.

He's a big boy, but he's just a little lap dog. The moment you sit down, he's in your lap. If Satan or any other of your cats take your lap, no worries, he'll either sit on the side of you or sit on them uncomfortably until they move.

You watch him and Satan fight all the time. It could be just playing if it weren't for the fact that both of them were hissing and growling. So you thought Satan hated his new friend but then you were surprised to see them cuddling together on their half torn up cat tree... To this day you don't know if they like each other or hate each other.

Leviathan(Snowshoe)

He was labeled as an aggressive cat from a shelter you frequent for volunteer work. He seems to tolerate you the most so you are co-workers suggested that you keep him. He follows you around but keeps his distance. Every time you look you see him stare back. When you try to encourage him to come over He just runs away.

It took him a while to warm up to you. Now he's literally a shadow no matter where you are he will be in the same room as you acting like he's always been there, and that he's totally not following you. He only lets you pet him. Only you pet him. He gave poor Minhyeok a good scratch on his arm when he got a little too close to you for comfort.

He only comes to you when you least expect it and when you don't want him! When you're trying to do work suddenly he's all up in your face getting all up on your computer. Or if you have company he will be all up over you or trying to hiss and growl at whoever came into your house.

Beelzebub(Bengal cat)

Just fucking showed up at your house He must have snuck in somehow because you caught him sleeping in your warm laundry. You have no idea where this cat came from and the fact that he is a bengal scared you that is an expensive cat that's an owner must be looking for. But there was no one who recognized him so I guess he's yours??

He wants to go outside again but you didn't let him until you got him microchipped and collared and you're so glad you did because he would leave for hours. Only coming back when it's time to eat. But the weirdest part is when you would always find him when you're outside of your house?? At the grocery store? He's fucking there in the parking lot! At a friend's house a couple streets away? He's scratching at the door wanting to be let in because he knows you're in there!

This little shit steals your food. You had to get child locks on everything because of him! For a cat so smart you can't believe how stupid he is as you find him in the weirdest positions or napping spots. Or just manage to catch him running into a wall at full speed, trying to jump only to not make any traction. Scratching at his reflection, somehow getting on top of a high place in your house, real orange cat stuff.

Lucifer (Norwegian Forest)

Obsessed with licking you. Like grabs your hand and starts grooming you profusely. If you move away he'll try to lick something else. He always tries to go for your hair.

Once he starts laying on you he always starts purring. You don't have to pet him He just starts purring. Especially when he knows you're sick he will sprawl on top of you and just purr as if he's trying to help you feel better.

Along with Mammon probably one of the more chill cats you have You can pick him up carry him and he'll just sit there purring. True gentle giants.

Belphegor (bobtail)

Sleepy boy. You love this boy so much He doesn't cause trouble, He doesn't knock over your things or hiss at your guests. He doesn't come back with dead rodents in his mouth or do anything weird outside. He is a simple boy. He sees a Sunbeam and he sleeps.

It is always a treat to walk into a room and see him sleeping in the most weirdest way possible on any furniture he can. And when he is out he is out He scared the shit out of you once because he felt limp when you tried to wake him up. You've seen along brown haired cat around when you let him nap outside in here backyard... Must be his friend.

Every time you see him actually awake and walking around that's when you remember you have another cat. He tolerates you waking him up and pestering him with your kisses and hugs and baby voice. He loves it even though he looks like he hates it.

Asmodeus (Chantilly Tiffany)

You have gotten so many messages from neighbors about this little every time he manages to scamper out he gets another poor cat in the neighborhood pregnant. You are not rich enough to pay cat food child support for another family who's poor female cat is going to have kittens. Sometimes he'll just bring you kittens from who knows where. You already have Seven cats So you frequently have to go next door to check if the kitten is theirs.

Somehow knows what you're planning because every time you want to take him to the vet he just so happens to disappear... You have not been successful yet.

Other than that he's a very loving cat. Actually he's one of your go-to for introducing children since He surprisingly super good with children. He's very gentle and almost protective.

[need-a-name-101]

PJOxDC Crossover

in which Duke is the son of Apollo who went to camp like once before he became robin and then later signal. He goes to New York for some reason and gets attacked by a monster, gets taken to camp and finds out his dad is Apollo. When the others find out that he is from Gotham, they just introduce him to Bernard who is also at Camp and a son of Apollo. Bernard tells him that Gotham is such a fucked up place even Greek Gods and Monsters don't go there often. They go back to Gotham. A year or so pass by Bernard helps Duke understand as much of his powers as he can (I hc Bernard as a medic). They grow close. While around the same time, Bernard meets Tim again and the Children of Dyonusis shit goes down. (Duke for plot reasons is not there, Why idk will make something up) Tim and Bernard start dating.

Duke plays his powers as being a Meta. Bruce and the otheres buy it because thry have no reason to belive that a secret socirty of Greek demigods are in NY. It is so because of the mist, the mist is strong even Diana and the Amazons are unware about camp. After the Giant War. (Which Bernard and Duke were not a part of), The mist stats to fail, so the demigods aka Percy, Annabeth, Nico, Will, Piper, Leo, Jason (If the AU is he lives), Frank, Hazel and all decide to go to ask the Amazons for help. But upon taking with them they find out that The Amazons were unaware of their existance. Then they decide to join force to find out a solution and build relations.

until then in Gotham Tim and Bernard are together. Tim introduces Bernard to his family slowly and one of the first people he meets is Duke. Tim is trying to figure out the mystery of why do Bernard and Duke know each other. They both said summer camp, but Tim knows them both well enough to know that they are lying to him. Why would they lie about it? But it's not a main focus because, Duke and his boyfriend get along and thats enough. He once brings it up with Bernard but he just says "It's like how you waited for a while before telling me your a vigillante" And Tim leaves it at that. When both of them are okay with him know they'll tell him.

While the Demigod and the Amazon gang find out that their quest to fix the mist will take them to Gotham. Wonder Woman just sighs and tells them that They have to contact Batman that they will be in their territory. negotiations are made with Batman and he agrees only if one of the Bats of he himself is with them when they are out on the streets. Diana has no choce but to agree because Greeek gods maybe crazy but Gotham is crazier. While Will rembers that two of his brothes are from Gotham and they coukd ask for help but he hasn't talked to them in a while (Sue me even if Duke and Bernard don't go to Camp as often, they do keep in touch with Will)

Duke straight up refuses saying he lives with his foster dad/adoptive (Whatever AU it is) And his kids. He can't just have that many People over. Bernard agrees, and calls up Duke saying they have to tell Tim, Duke in reluctance agrees he’s still new enough to question his relations with the rest of his family. So later that day Bernard and Duke break it to Tim about camp, Greek gods and all that. Duke talks about his powers, and Tim nods and says he understands and will keep it secret from the rest of the family until Duke wants him to.

Tim later says that if Diana is going to come here then they are defiantly working with Batman. Bernard says that he is only letting them stay with him and is not partaking in whatever quest bought them here. They need to either come up with a cover and say why the demigods are staying with Bernard and Tim( they live together okay) or just straight up hide it from Bruce (the murder boat is fun but for this AU let’s pretend it doesn’t exist or it does and Tim just straight up buys an apartment or something for the demigods to stay at)

So later when the demigods arrive they meet up with Batman and Robin (Damian, to clarify) tell them the gist of their quest. Diana is obviously there. Then they part ways, Tim has taken the night off, so he and Bernard meet to demigods minus Diana. Duke is there too. The two of them tell them that Tim knows so it’s fine.

This is now when absolute chaos breaks, you have demigods who are most of them if not all, can’t sit still. All of them think Gotham is weird as hell but Tim , Duke and Bernard are like yeah it a Tuesday man. Will thinks that Bernard’s boyfriend is some mafia guy. Because if the small cuts and bruises but dismiss the theory after spending like a week in Gotham, because dam this city gets attacked a lot. The demigods undergo the quest, with help from the bats.

Them some shit happens and now the bats have no choice but to have the demigods plus Diana Stay at the manor so identity revel but they are all made to swat on the river Styx by Bernard to never revel their ID. Then boom more chaos because, “you are telling me that the bimbo Bruce Wayne is batman” “your boyfriend’s a vigilante.”

Duke had to now tell the family that he’s a demigod. It doesn’t really change anything. But it changes things. They’re still fine, it was not as a big deal as duke thought.

(Idk if I’ll ever write it so feel free to write this au but pls share a link cause I’d love to read it)

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Confessions (Azriel x Reader)

summary: you and azriel are best friends, but his flirting with elain has become too much for you to bear, so you decide to try to move on.

wc: 3k

a/n: !!warning: mentions attempted SA!! This is the first real fic i have written in years so it’s probably shit but if you decide to read this thank u and i love u.

Read Part Two

For months now, you have been fairly upset about seeing Azriel pining after Elain, but even more annoyed that your friendship with him has become insignificant to him now that he spends all his time with her. About a decade ago, you decided that being hopelessly in love with Azriel was pointless since he would never see you that way, so you settled for friendship. It’s better to have him as a friend than not at all… or at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. Mor is the only one who knows about your crush and has kept your secret, but not without constant pestering to tell him how you feel.

“He’s in love with Elain, Mor. I’m over it and over him. I’m ready to move on.” You lie as best you can to her and to yourself.

“You’re so full of shit. But fine, I’ll play along. When we go out tonight, you’re finding someone to go home with!” She says excitedly while finishing her eyeliner. Mor forced you to put on a tight, navy party dress that barely covers your ass instead of letting you wear your go-to little black dress.

After she finishes getting ready, the two of you head down to your room to grab your lipstick, but when you open the door to the hallway, you see Azriel and Elain at the end of the hall whispering and standing only inches from each other. You ignore the ache in your chest at the sight and turn the opposite direction to head to your room, refusing to look behind you when you feel a pair of eyes staring at you.

———

Rita’s was crowded, as per usual. After about an hour of drinks and dancing, you were decently drunk and had forgotten all about Azriel… well almost.

“Can I buy you a drink?” You hear a male say from beside you. He’s tall and fairly handsome, but nowhere near Azriel’s level of attractiveness- damnit you need to get him out of your head!

“Sure. I’ll have what you’re having.” You try to say seductively, but it just comes out awkward. Gods, when was the last time you tried to flirt? He chuckles and orders your drink. Mor gives you a wink from across the bar and disappears into the crowd with a stranger.

After a while of talking, you decide this guy, Mikael, is exceptionally boring, but the night is almost over and he’s your only option. Anything to forget a certain dark and mysterious shadowsinger. Why not try to have fun?

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Mikael whispers in your ear. No reaction. If Azriel had been this close and whispered something to you, you would be all goosebumps and blushes, but with Mikael… nothing. Fuck, this is probably a bad idea. Maybe you should just go home and try again another night.

“Y/n?” His voice pulls you out of your daze. “I asked if you wanted to get out of here.” He says a bit annoyed while sliding a hand up your thigh. Gods, this guy is kinda an ass. This is definitely a bad idea.

“Um… I’m pretty tired. And I came here with a friend, so I should probably find her to make sure she gets home safe.” You slowly stand from your chair to leave. You immediately stumble and feel much dizzier than before. You were never good at handling your liquor, and apparently tonight was no exception… except you don’t remember drinking enough to feel this drunk. Mikael’s hand grabs your shoulder to stabilize you, but his grip feels too tight and he doesn’t let go once you balance yourself.

“Cmon honey. We were having a fun night, let’s keep it going.” He leans too close for comfort, giving you a slimy grin. You pull away and stumble back.

“I really should find my friend. I’m sorry!” You say nervously and look around for Mor. She’s nowhere in sight. Shit. She probably either left with that girl thinking you were gonna go home with Mikael or she’s lost in the crowd. Either way, you just need to get away from Mikael. You stumble towards the door, feeling dizzy and seeing double. Each step feels slower and heavier than the last, but you finally step outside, savoring the winter chill that will hopefully sober you up. Just as you take a step outside, you feel a hand grab your wrist too hard and pull you towards the alley next to Rita’s.

“I spent a lot of fucking money on your drinks tonight, so I’m not gonna ask again. You’re coming home with me.” Mikael’s whiskey breath is inches from your face, making you want to gag. You want to scream for help. You want to kick and fight back, but your body feels weak and your vision keeps getting blurrier. After a moment, you slump onto Mikael and he helps you walk down the sidewalk. To everyone else, you probably look like a drunk girl whose boyfriend is helping her home.

No. No no no. You need to get away. You need someone to notice you aren’t okay. How the fuck did this happen?

You hear a voice behind you and your feet stop moving. It’s too blurry and dark to see, but soon you’re on the ground and someone is yelling. You shut your eyes, accepting whatever horrible thing is about to happen to you. But suddenly you are in someone’s arms, and a moment later you’re inside somewhere. You open your eyes, and despite the blurriness, you recognize your blue curtains. You’re home. Somehow.

Mor must have found you and winnowed you home. Thank the gods for that. You are set on your bed and covered you with blankets.

“Thanks… thanks for finding me, Mor.” You slur and curl into your blankets. “I think that guy… put something in my drink.” Your voice trails off as you become incredibly sleepy and shut your eyes. Mor sits you up and forces you to drink some water. Your eyes feel too heavy to open, so you keep them shut.

“Just… don’t tell Azriel about this. It’s embarrassing enough to go looking for a quick fuck to get over my crush, but it’s even more embarrassing to get fucking drugged by someone in the process.” You get the words out slowly between sips. Thinking about everything that just happened tonight should make you want to cry and vomit, but you’re too tired to do so. When you finish the water, you lay back down and immediately fall asleep.

———

Your head is pounding and the sun is shining too bright. Someone is yelling outside your door. You roll over in bed, half expecting to see some male, but thankfully you are alone in your room. You don’t remember much from last night, but apparently your attempt at a one night stand was unsuccessful. Probably for the best.

The yelling gets louder.

“She was on the fucking sidewalk outside Rita’s!” You hear a male voice yell. Azriel’s voice. Why is Azriel here? And why is he so damn loud?

You slowly make your way out of bed and to the door so you can tell him to shut up, but as soon as you open the door, you see several worried faces staring back at you. Mor, Rhys, Cass, Feyre, and Azriel all stare at you. Mor looks like she’s crying and Azriel is red in the face with a murderous expression.

“Can you all shut up? I have a head-“ you start

“Y/n I’m so sorry!” Mor hugs you tight, almost knocking you over.

“What the…” you start to question before you’re cut off again.

“Do you know his name, y/n? I’ll make sure he is taken care of.” Rhys asks. His voice is gentle, but his face is full of anger.

“Like hell you will. I would’ve killed him last night if I didn’t have to get her back here. I should’ve fucking killed that piece of garbage.” Azriel mutters.

What the hell is going on? You pull away from Mor and face the group.

“Does anyone care to tell me what we’re talking about?” You ask cautiously while rubbing your temples in an attempt to alleviate your headache.

“Of course she doesn’t remember you guys. Give her some space.” Feyre says softly and leads you back inside your room with Mor. The three males protest, but Feyre gives them a stern look and shuts the door. “Sit down, y/n. I’ll tell you what’s happening.”

You sit on your bed and look between Feyre and Mor anxiously.

“You were found outside of Rita’s being carried by a stranger and you were close to unconscious. You’ve been asleep for almost the entire day now.”

You stare back in stunned silence. The memories slowly start to return, but before you can ask a question Mor starts tearing up again.

“You don’t know how sorry I am y/n. You were hitting it off with that guy and next thing I knew, you were gone. I thought you went home with him like you planned, but when Azriel told me-“

“Azriel? Wait… what?” You ask.

“Azriel found you and brought you back here. He made sure you were safe before finding me and going ballistic on me for not watching out for you. I’m so sorry I really didn’t mean to let you get hurt!” She cries again.

“I don’t understand. I vaguely remember someone bringing me home, but I could’ve sworn it was you, Mor, not Azriel.” They both shake their heads. You sit silently and process the information for a minute before saying the only thing that may be helpful in this moment.

“His name was Mikael. He had dark hair, hazel eyes, and wore a red shirt.” You whisper, still in shock. Feyre’s eyes glaze over for a moment as she relays this information to Rhys. Suddenly its completely quiet outside your door.

———

You spend the rest of the day in your room, still exhausted and fighting a hangover. Or the after effects from the drug… not sure. There’s a soft knock at your door.

“Come in.” You call out. Azriel slowly opens the door and walks in. You can tell he just got back and tried to clean up quickly, but there’s still a few smears of blood on him.

“Uh… hi.” You say awkwardly and motion for him to sit. Azriel sits on the end corner of your bed and looks at you with a mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. His shadows are swirling around you, as if to check that you are actually okay. They’ve always taken an interest in you, which you normally appreciate, but right now it just makes you feel guiltier for last night.

“Thank you for finding me last night. I probably wouldn’t be okay right now if you hadn’t.” You whisper, avoiding his gaze. He takes a deep breath, like he is trying to control himself.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He mutters angrily. Azriel stands and starts pacing the room. “You could’ve been fucking killed!” He raises his voice.

“I know. I didn’t-“

“And then you go and say… fuck y/n!” He runs his hands over his face in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Az.” You whisper, fighting the tears that are building. Wait, why the hell is he mad at you? You didn’t drug yourself. “Azriel, it’s not like I planned for this to happen.” You say a bit annoyed. He lets out a cold laugh.

“Yeah, but you planned on going out to find someone to fuck. Wearing that fucking dress and letting that fucking worthless filth touch you.” He spits out angrily as his shadows swirl around your ankles.

“Okay look, I can do what I want and wear what I want. Why is it any of your business if I try to hook up with someone?” Your eyes burn and you fight the tears. “Obviously I wasn’t expecting someone to put something in my drink. I’ll be more careful next time!” You yell louder.

“Next time?” His voice drops to a whisper and he looks at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher.

“I don’t have to justify my actions to you, Azriel. Why do you even care? You’re never around anymore. Always too busy sneaking off with Elain to hang out with your best friend!” Hurt fills your voice. You hadn’t meant to let that last part slip out.

“Why are you bringing her into this?” His voice drops lower and his brow furrows.

“She has a mate, Azriel! What the hell are you doing?” You sigh and put your head in your hands. “I just miss you.”

He stops pacing and stares at you. “I’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Yes you have! I never see you anymore!” Its true. He never makes plans with you anymore and it has been tearing you apart. It’s strange that he was even at Rita’s in the first place, because he never wanted to go even before he ditched you for Elain. Wait, why was he there? “You were at Rita’s last night when you found me.” It’s not a question.

He nods.

“Why were you there?” He obviously wasn’t expecting you to ask that because panic flashes in his eyes for a brief moment. “I know you weren’t there with Elain because she hates it there. And I didn’t see you inside with the guys.” I try to remember him outside the bar, but it’s all fuzzy.

“I was worried.” He mutters so quiet you barely hear.

“What?”

“I was worried about you y/n!” You look at him surprised. “I saw you in the hall ready to go out in that dress. God, that fucking dress. And the entire night I kept thinking about something bad happening. So I waited outside to make sure you and Mor were safe. And then I saw that fucking piece of shit with his hands on you and I just…” he trails off and takes a deep breath. “If something had happened to you… if I hadn’t been there to stop it…” His expression looks angry again.

You pause and process his words. He almost sounds jealous. But that can’t be it. Because he has no reason to be jealous.

He sighs again and continues with a softer voice. “Do you remember anything after you left?” He asks with a hint of desperation in his voice. You think hard for a moment. You thought Mor got you home and you told her what happened. But it wasn’t Mor. It was Azriel. And then you said not to tell Azriel because… fuck. Your eyes go wide.

Azriel stalks closer and is inches from you. “Do you remember what you said? Was that the drug talking or you?” He whispers low and gets closer, his eyes searching yours for an answer. This cannot be happening. If you thought your friendship was screwed before, this is definitely the final straw.

“Az…” you whisper.

“Tell me.” His voice is demanding.

“I don’t-“ you start, but Azriel turns and runs his hands over his face in frustration. He stays facing away from you, muttering something to himself.

“Azriel, I cant. You already avoid me as it is. I don’t think I can handle losing you as a friend. Losing you completely.” He obviously already knows, but saying it feels too real. Your words cause him to turn back around and get closer to you. Azriel leans over you, caging you against the bed in between his arms and stares at you silently for a moment. His shadows have stilled completely around you two. There’s something desperate in his eyes. He’s so close, closer than he has been in months. Hell, he’s closer than he’s been ever. You look from his eyes to his lips for a split second, mesmerized by the way he barely bites his bottom lip.

“Fuck it.” He mutters. Before you can ask what, he crashes his lips into yours. You freeze for a moment in shock, before melting into his touch. He lets out a low groan as you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. His calloused hands wrap into your hair and tug slightly, earning a small whimper from you. It takes several moments before you come up for air.

“Azriel… I don’t understand.” You ask breathlessly.

“Please tell me what you said last night is true. That you feel the way I feel.” He rests his forehead on yours.

“What about Elain?”

“I don’t care about Elain! I care about you! She knows that I’m in l-“ He pauses and takes a breath. “I was trying to get over you.” He grabs your chin softly and pulls your face to meet his. “It’s always been you, y/n. Please.”

You stare silently in shock for several moments. “Y/n…” Azriel’s voice pulls you from your trance and you realize he’s waiting for you to answer.

Just as you are about to respond, there is a knock on the door. Azriel quickly pulls away and sits on the edge of the bed away from you, as if nothing were happening.

“Come in!” You call out softly, and Feyre opens the door holding a plate of food.

“I should go.” Azriel says quietly and heads towards the door.

“Wait.” You try to stop him, but he keeps walking.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, y/n.” Azriel opens the door and leaves without a second glance. His shadows remain for a moment, before quickly retreating, as if being called to follow. Feyre gives you a questioning look, but you just shake your head and fall back onto the bed, finally letting the tears flow freely.

thank you for reading!! :)

Read Part Two

[possesseddesiress]

Switch Up: Ethan's Relief

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Switch Up: Ethan's Relief (English Version)

Part One: First Level

Part Two: Logan's Revenge

Part Three: Ethan's Relief

Part Four: Miles' Ambition

Part Five: Conclusions

- And what are we supposed to do? - I muttered with Miles walking beside me, but he just had a smile on his lips, huge and wide-eyed.

- This is perfect! This is the invention of the century! This almost beats electricity! - Miles was absorbed in his thoughts, with that little smile without even paying attention to his surroundings. I snorted in annoyance, still moving along the corridors beside him.

- Do you have any idea where to find Blake?

- Steve Jobs must be turning in his grave!

I narrowed my eyes, noticing that he clearly wasn't going to pay attention to me.

So I took a hallway to the right, not sure if Ruben would be there, but he almost always was. What was there to lose?

Miles kept chattering with every step we took, until we ended up in the auditorium.

A somewhat dark, large space, the stage at the front with a dim light illuminating it, the seats at the front. There seemed to be no one there, we were about to turn around when I heard something behind the curtain.

- Don't you think we're in trouble? - a familiar but unrecognizable voice rang out.

- We are rehearsing, what would be the problem?

And there it was. Ruben's voice, I recognized the accent perfectly.

You see... I had been in love with that guy since we entered high school, he was new. Just back from exchange, with his smile and his brown skin.

We barely exchanged words in first year, he used to be almost a mystery, he spoke little but had a peculiar charm. “Latin's Flame” they began to say in the corridors; and when he entered the theater workshop, he became popular.

The theater seemed to give him an inordinate confidence, far away was that boy who spoke little and seemed to be supplanted by another who was full of friends, almost fed by the girls (and some boys) drooling over him while he played Romeo or some theatrical shit.

And he was even further out of my league than he already was. I've never known if he's gay, he's never had a girlfriend but maybe he's not interested in it; there have been thousands of rumors of girls who flirted with him and received the occasional kiss, date or even gift, but nothing that could be confirmed.

From the curtain he emerged. In some sort of denim attire, he didn't know what plays were about to open this month, but the way the camisole clung to his chest and arms was a delight.

- Why did we come for him first? - Miles muttered with annoyance.

- Because you kept praising yourself, keep quiet.

He just let out a snort before standing still in the shadows. I keep watching carefully what was going on, from the curtain emerged another figure: Alan.

A member of the drama club as well, perhaps not as prominent as Ruben was, although he had his charm....

The biker vibe certainly helped him a lot.

Alan stood in front of the dark-haired man to slightly adjust his suit.

- We are still occupying the theater without asking.

- Don't be such a crybaby, teacher Rivera had an accident and will be absent for two weeks, just as long as we have to rehearse before the play. It gives me confidence to use the stage.

- Pff... As you wish, Hernandez.

Alan was next to him on the stage, they went over lines while Ruben moved and the other one checked him with script in hand.

- If you plan to do something, it's time to do it - Miles muttered. We both started walking down between the seats at a slow pace, my heart pounding a thousand beats a second.

- So what's the plan? There are two of them.

- So are we

- No offense but I don't think you can against Alan's strength and the help of my body.

Miles narrowed his eyes. Then he rummaged through his backpack carefully until he pulled out a rope, I raised my eyebrow.

- I don't want to judge your tastes but I don't think this is the best time for that

- That's not what I brought it for, asshole. It's to immobilize your original body so it doesn't pose any danger before we get away from here.

I was about to complain when Miles stuffed who knows what in my mouth, tied my hands and then my feet.

I sat there with a frown on my face, looking at him with some anger.

- You'll thank me later - He said, pointing at me with the controller and pressing the yellow button - I hope you're ready - He pointed at Ruben later and clicked the green button.

Suddenly, my eyes met the light of the stage, to which I had to cover myself with a slight grunt of annoyance. There was a certain silence, although I seemed to hear murmurs, it was like being underwater, I knew that something sounded around me but I could not distinguish it.

- Ruben? - I finally heard Alan murmur. I turned my eyes towards him, and before he could answer. I saw my chest. Well-formed now, broad, thick... I couldn't even look away from the two fat bulges that were now forming in my shirt - Ruben, are you all right?

He spoke again.

- Huh? Yes, yes, everything's fine... - I whispered, unable to take my eyes off my new body. I smelled Ruben's cologne, rather, my new cologne. It took all the strength in the world for me not to let out a whimper, but I was getting impatient... I wanted to smell myself like crazy, to touch myself. God, I wanted to see what was behind those pants!

Quiet again.

- Well? Aren't you going to say your lines again?

- Y-yeah, sure. I-I... - I mumbled. It was clear I had nothing, I didn't even know what that play was about.

- Dude, are you sure you don't want to go to the infirmary? You look really weird.

- No, no, not at all.

- Are you sure you don't want to go to the infirmary? I think it's important that... - he was gently approaching me until his eyes rolled back in his head for a second, his expression became vacant and then seemed to return to normal, he blinked, looked at me and then rolled his eyes in disgust - Fuck, I thought he was never going to shut up.

- Alan? - I asked confused.

- Don't be ridiculous, it's me - the apparent Alan stepped off the stage to walk in the dark, with me following him.

- Miles? But how?

- Until you finally think, genius - He continued to move forward until he reached the area where we were before, he bent down to pick up the controller. Beside him, our original bodies moved with discomfort and confusion, trying to do something beyond just being tied together.

- Did you... immobilized yourself?

- Yes, yes, then you ask about it.

It was strange to see Alan acting that way, while, he wasn't extremely nice, he wasn't arrogant like Miles used to be either. So seeing Alan with his shoulders back, his chin up and that know-it-all look on his face was strange.

- What now?

- Geez, Ethan! - he came back on stage - Occupy your brain a little! It was plain to see what you wanted to do with Ruben's body, do it. Now you can.

For a second I hesitated about what to do. Somewhat self-conscious of the presence of Miles, or of Ruben and Alan himself who were trying to move.

I was about to just run away, but.... I'm not that scrawny, cowardly, loser nerd anymore, nope. Now I'm Ruben Hernandez, the sexy Latino that everyone fantasizes about while watching his plays.

Flexing my arms, feeling my big, thick biceps widen through my clothes, I smiled. My hands came to rest on my pecs and then squeezed them, my senses seemed to touch the sky. My expression became goofy as I squeezed and fiddled more with the reliefs.

I quickly removed my shirt, exposing my abs. I lifted the relief of the pants a little to see the guy's hidden masculinity.

- He's huge! - I said excitedly. He looked thick, dark and somewhat hairy, I couldn't imagine Ruben being so hairy down there.

I was about to touch myself again when Miles took advantage, grabbing me by the waist to pull me close to him and start kissing me. At first I reciprocated until I pushed him away as far as I could.

- What's wrong with you, Miles?!

- Nah, my name's Alan, dude.... - he murmured - And I don't know, I think I have needs today that you can perfectly solve.

We kissed intensely, his hands roaming all over my body and skin. He immediately threw himself against my neck to start kissing and licking it, my body trembling in reaction.

- Don't you like it, Ruben? - he whispered to look me in the eyes

- Yes, yes I like it - I answered to take him by the cheeks and to press our lips in a chaotic kiss. It was a tangle of sloppy kisses, tongues and saliva.

A noise sounded from the door, as if someone was about to enter. I immediately grabbed Miles to hide us behind the curtain, it wouldn't be a good idea to be found with two guys tied up.

That after all, nobody would do anything if they found “Miles” and “Ethan” in such a situation, it wouldn't be the first time that happened, they wouldn't pay attention to what they said, less when accusing two guys of theater. But it was better not to leave any traces.

We ended up leaving through the back of the auditorium, but not before taking the backpacks and suitcases that Ruben and Alan brought with them. We ended up in the gym locker room, apparently empty.

- Man, that was great!

- You're telling me - Miles said sitting down. With those airs of superiority

- Although.... Why did you kiss me?

- Ruben's body is hot, plus having you in it opens the door to so many possibilities.

- But weren't you going to take Blake?

- Yes

- And why are you inside Alan?

- Because he's hot and you needed help.

- Did you do it for me?

- Yes... And he pissed me off a couple of times so that's why too.

She picked up Alan's suitcase to open it. His smile brightened as he looked inside, starting to pull out clothes by the pile.

- What are you doing?

- This is full of sportswear! - She pulled some shorts to her face, gasping at the scent. Surely they were soaked with sweat, he immediately stood up to start taking off what he was wearing and change into a compression suit, olive-toned but leaving everything on display.

He cupped his bulge, with a satisfied smile. Then he lifted his armpits to begin sniffing himself, licked his skin, enraptured by her scent and taste.

- Are you just going to stand there? - There was something in his gaze... I don't know how to describe it but it was enchanting.

I also took off what I had brought to change, a purple sleeveless sport shirt, a little loose. But it showed from my arms to part of my abs and pectorals.

- You stink, Alan... - I muttered, closing the distance between us.

- So what's the problem, Hernandez? - he said indifferently.

To which I grabbed him hard to press myself against him. He let out a sharp gasp that made me raise my eyebrow, he was a little embarrassed, but I seemed to love it. As if something was activated for the first time in me.

- Come here.

I immediately started sucking and biting gently, which caused him to let out a sigh, I grabbed him with some force as I started touching his buttocks.

- N-no... W-wait - He tried to mumble - I-I want to be w-whoever is on top....

I let out a laugh at the comment.

I loved Miles very much, no doubt he was my best friend besides Logan, but this was the perfect opportunity to take revenge for all the times where his arrogance got in the way.

I didn't even answer him, with my new strength I managed to slam that suit down, no doubt he looked fantastic, but it was in the way of everything I wanted to do.

I bent down a little to gain access to his pecs and the relief in them, beginning to suck and nibble on them. Alan's voice and gasps echoed throughout, eager for more.

It was then that I noticed the reflection behind us, I never thought I'd see these two doing something like this. But here we were.

Which made me even more ecstatic.

I suddenly peeled off, which left Miles with an expression somewhere between awkward, hot and desperate.

- No, no. On your knees - I said authoritatively.

He watched me with a glazed look and immediately dropped to all fours. I could only lift my shirt to show him my abs.

I didn't even have to order him anything this time, he just pulled down the elastic to get his mouth going. Licking and sucking like desperate, it almost sounded like a dog drinking water.

- Your taste... - he murmured, sticking out his tongue a little more - It tastes very salty...

- Do you like it? I left it like this especially for you, Alan

- I love it....

And he immediately pressed himself against me again. We went on like that for quite a while, rubbing each other like crazy until things evolved and everything ended up all over the floor of the dressing room.

The pounding between our skins and the sweat that permeated the air, only increased the volume of the shocks.

- Ah!" Miles almost howled, Alan's entrance felt so tight, ready to serve me.

- You love it, don't you? Imagine if that's how I had you during the play - I growled - Let the whole school know that biker Alan Wood is nothing more than my belonging.

And I gave another hard thrust that thundered loudly, accompanied by a loud gasp.

- Yes! Yes!

- You want it in, don't you?

- Please yes, give it to me Ruben! Please!

And without further ado. I ended up spilling all my seed inside him, it seemed that the body I now inhabited had abstained from these things, because I ended up releasing loads of thick substance.

“Alan” just lay there on the bench with his breath hitching and gasping, a mess between his sweat and my own load.

I kept exploring the clothes inside Ruben's bag to change, it smelled just as stinky as the old one, but who cared? The new Ruben had many improvements that he was eager to show the world.

Miles ended up rejoining me after a while, he was about to clean himself when I stopped him.

- Nah, that's how you put your clothes on.

- How funny... - he muttered sarcastically, again he seemed to be himself - You're crazy if you think I'll listen to you.

He reached for a towel but I snatched it away from him.

- I told you no.

- What the fuck are you talking about, Ethan?!?

- Ruben, you mean.

- Give me the towel to wipe myself!

I didn't even answer him. I rummaged through the inside of Alan's bag until I found a black sport shirt, which seemed to be what stunk the loudest in the bag, plus some shorts.

- Put them on.

He looked at me angrily, but even he knew he had lost, so he had no choice but to listen to me.

We both left the place, Miles still annoyed as we made our way down the halls. It felt fabulous to feel everyone's stares, smiles, even a casual “hey”. Finally we weren't invisible!

- Don't be annoyed anymore - I said softly.

- Shut your mouth.

- As if you didn't like it.

- I liked it. But now I stink...

- You're not even going to stay in that body. And you said I annoyed you several times, right?

Miles watched me for a split second, as if he had discovered the missing equation to a problem. A smirk immediately tugged at his lips.

He flexed his arms, seeming to show off in public, flashed his sweaty armpits, and stopped caring about everything that stank. Advancing with a mixture of pride and mockery in himself down the aisles.

Some girls looked at him quizzically, but other guys? They almost drooled over him.

He pulled out his phone, rummaged through Alan's gallery for some typical photo of which his Instagram was plagued.

And she decided to upload a new post to all her networks with a simple text:

《 I guess you don't know what you're missing until you get hard. Lol, bye girls, my body only belongs to stinky men who are thirsty for me 》

His phone went crazy after that, but he chose to ignore it. We advanced to the library, where Logan was still waiting. Or well, “Caleb.” Sitting with his arms casually flexed, sniffing and smiling every time he took another puff.

He looked up to see me, smirking, apparently he hadn't even noticed “Alan”.

- Hey, handsome - he winked at me, smiling. That didn't last long, though, as he started sniffing like a bloodhound - What's that smell...? Smells like... - his gaze finally focused on Alan - Miles, is that you?

- Save it, Logan.

He sat down across from him. If the stench smelled strong to me, I couldn't imagine the glory in which Logan now found himself.

- Weren't you going to be Blake?

- Yes, it's an emergency stop, still following my plan - he muttered grumpily.

- Anyway... "Ethan" and "Miles" were taken to management after they were found, apparently they might get suspended for "substance abuse" after they were raving ridiculous things - Logan grinned mischievously.

On the one hand I felt bad about Ruben's fate, he hadn't done anything to me, he was just my crush. But I couldn't take it back...

- And “Logan?” - Miles asked.

- Ah, that buttery - The new Caleb bragged with a laugh - He's more dominated and awkward than ever, almost hypnotized, I'd say.

I sat next to the guys, it was unreal to think that just a few hours ago we were loser nerds, and now we were taking the place of popular, muscular, attractive guys.

- So what do you plan to do now, Miles? - I dared to ask him.

- Get what's mine.

To be continued

----

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages.

This is the third part of “Switch Up”, a new series for the blog, I hope you like it.

See you in the next story… Who knows what body you'll occupy this time?

----

[jellofish-plant]

Part 2 – A Familiar Stranger

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader

Summary: A week after your near-death experience in an alley, you’re just trying to enjoy a quiet afternoon at your favorite café. You don’t notice the man sitting in the corner watching you, but he notices you. Jason Todd never expected to run into you again—let alone without you realizing who he is. Now, curiosity gets the better of him, and for some reason, he finds himself wanting to know more about the person he saved.

Warnings: Mentions of past violence, mild language, Jason being a little awkward but still a flirt.

Part 1 || [Masterlist]

Jason wasn’t supposed to be here.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he sat in the corner of the café, pretending to read while his eyes flicked up toward you every so often. He hadn’t planned this. He wasn’t following you. This was just a coincidence.

A weird, really convenient coincidence.

The moment you walked in, Jason recognized you instantly. The last time he saw you, you were terrified, standing in a dark alley while he wiped the floor with the bastards who tried to hurt you. Back then, you were shaken, wide-eyed, and clutching your arms like you were trying to make yourself smaller.

Now? You looked… normal. Like just another person grabbing coffee on a quiet afternoon. You didn’t look over your shoulder, didn’t hesitate when ordering, didn’t have that same tension in your shoulders that people got after a Gotham wake-up call.

And most importantly, you didn’t recognize him.

Jason wasn’t sure why that got to him. Maybe it was the helmet. Maybe it was because he’d been expecting something wary eyes, a second glance, anything. But as far as you knew, he was just some random guy in a leather jacket.

He could’ve let it go. Could’ve stayed in his seat, finished his coffee, and left.

But instead, when you turned away from the counter, he found himself speaking before he could stop himself.

"Kinda weird running into you here, huh?"

You blinked, looking up at him with a polite, confused smile. "Uh… sorry?"

Jason hesitated. Shit. He should’ve thought this through.

He leaned against the counter, playing it cool. "Just meant it’s a small city. You come here often?"

You glanced around like you weren’t sure if he was actually talking to you. "Uh, yeah. It’s my favorite spot."

Jason nodded, taking that in. He had no reason to care, but he filed the information away anyway.

You gave him a curious look, clearly trying to place him. "Do we… know each other?"

Jason smirked. "Maybe in another life."

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. "That’s not vague at all."

He shrugged. "Vague’s kinda my thing."

You tilted your head, studying him now not like you recognized him, but like you were trying to figure out if he was messing with you or just weird.

"Alright, mystery man," you said finally. "Do you always start conversations like this?"

Jason chuckled. "Only when I see someone interesting."

You raised an eyebrow, but he caught the hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

For some reason, that made him want to keep talking.

He still didn’t know why he was doing this. Maybe it was because you weren’t acting like a scared victim. Maybe it was because he had this rare opportunity to interact with someone outside of the Red Hood persona.

Or maybe just maybe he just wanted to know more about you.

And for now, you didn’t need to know that he’d already saved your life once.

[tainbocuailnge]

[soapboxing to people who already agree with me] ongoing vs completed media works isn't a matter of one being inherently higher quality than the other because you better believe there's some truly dogshit self contained works out there it's the fact that an ongoing slash live service work by design will forever keep introducing new plot threads and coming up with ways to escalate the stakes in a way that is increasingly difficult to sustain as time goes on, while simultaneously the later parts of the story are beholden to the earlier parts to a degree they never are in things that release as one complete story, because the ongoing story can't go back and make the early stuff line up with the later stuff nearly as easily. that's why long running shows often end up reaching for some kind of world reset or a multiverse as an easy way to create infinite new plot points and get rid of some of that old stuff that wasn't working anymore.

a one-and-done story isn't dependent on indefinite audience retention so it can make riskier choices in its writing, it isn't incentivised to keep going forever to keep getting more money out of its audience so it can actually work towards a meaningful conclusion. there's benefits to being ongoing at least for a while, like i didn't watch gravity falls but from my outside perspective that show made really strong use of being ongoing to create a lot of community hype around solving the mysteries as info gets released each episode which made it way more popular than if it'd just released in one go, but I also know that showrunner had to actively fight the tv execs to actually let his show end when he'd intended it to because he knew it would become bad and sucks if it never got to actually end. in the gacha-game-o-sphere where I'm more active it's a whole fucking thing that the story can never actually end because they gotta keep introducing more characters to sell whose plot threads never get picked back up because there's more new characters to sell instead. actually, the original post was about a friend playing fate/extra and being blown away with how difficult and complicated of a person (positive) nero was before she got bastardised for gacha sales.

the promise of "more of this thing you like is coming in the future" is very strong at creating and maintaining an audience which is why execs LOVE making live service shit and throwing out sequels and new seasons and reboots of proven formulas, but that's exactly why you gotta read/watch/play something that's self contained and done every now and then, just to remind yourself of what it's like when something's actually fucking finished.

[the-kr8tor]

A hobat request? No problem, pookie❤️

Hobbie comes back from feeding, only to find you gone?! Oh no! Except, you're in the backyard and tending to a direwolf...? Who is this mysterious supernatural person you're tending to? (It's totally Ekko)

Take your time, my love and stay healthy🥰❤️

Shit i completely forgot this was for hobat bc i read that as hobart while writing this 😭😭😭 i hope you still like it! ❤️ Feel free to request another hobat one!

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Hobie Brown x fem! Reader x Ekko

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, hunter! Reader, vampire au, werewolf! Ekko, arcane and spiderverse crossover, established relationship, lovestruck! Hobie, lots of kissing, CW blood and injury, fluff.

Navigation

You wake up to lips kissing your face and fangs grazing gently against your jaw. The coffin you (unexpectedly) share with Hobie is surprisingly comfortable, and even your back agrees whenever you slip in beside him every morning.

The red velvet lined coffin creaks as Hobie leans atop you, gentle fingers moving your hair away to gently kiss your forehead. His lips attack every space of your skin, leaving no flesh unkissed. His arms are stretched next to you, and his leg wedged right in between yours, he's awfully comfortable on top of you. Too comfortable that you might not be able to leave the coffin for a few hours if he so continues his barrage of kisses.

“You're incredibly kissy today.” You say, voice laced with sleep as you crack an eye open, meeting with his half lidded wine red eyes.

“What…” kiss. “Do,” kiss. “You mean?”

Fully opening your eyes, you push at his chest, palm splayed over the bare skin. He makes a face, eyes forlorn and lips pouting from your action.

“Hobie—” You smile softly at his expression.

He leans down again, taking your smile as his invitation to continue, immortal strength beating your mortal ones. Supernatural hunter or not, he still has you beat. “What, love?” His tone is low and deep, words reverberating through your chest. Nose nuzzling your pulse, he pecks downwards to your collarbone. You can feel his smile through each kiss.

You resist the urge to let out a breathless sigh. “As much as I love—” He moves away with you grasping and pushing at his jaw with your thumb and index. “Don't tempt me, bloodsucker.”

Hobie smiles, head tilting playfully as he takes your hand and places a saccharine kiss right in the inside of your wrist.

“Why, because you know you'll be tempted?” You roll your eyes at his taunt. “Like last night, and the night before and the day before that—”

“Okay, I get, I'm weak willed!” You sigh, both palms placed against his cold bare chest that you try not to ogle from your position. He chuckles, surrendering as he plops himself on top of you with his head right atop your beating heart. “Any other day I would fall to your whims,” Hobie snickers, “but we have shit to do today, remember?” You crane your neck down, kissing the crown of his head even with your nape aching.

Hobie nods, sighing as if he's already tired while his idle hand plays with the velvet on the coffin wall, drawing a heart shape like a lovelorn schoolboy.

“Remind me again?”

You guess this is his tactic to keep you in the coffin as long as he can. And you don't mind it one bit. “You have that meeting with the vampiric council.” He groans, a sound deep from the back of his throat. “You promised them that you'll go this time.”

“They're wankers.” He traces the length of your arm with his claw, careful not to nick you.

“They are, but as the oldest, you have the last vote, whatever it is you guys vote over there.” You utter softly to convince him, thumb drawing circles on his shoulder blade.

“Can't you come with?” He lifts his head up, chin perched right on your sternum. “It's borin’ in there without you.”

“I'm human, Hobie, and a hunter. Unless you want them to sink their teeth in me, then I'll go.”

“Don't want that.” He says, muffled against your chest.

“Besides, I have that hunters' convention in town. I'll bring you a goody bag.”

He huffs, nose nudging your skin. “The council will just talk about zoning and werewolves and shite.”

“Do you not want that goody bag?”

Hobie sucks in his teeth, fangs in full display. “...I want it.”

You hum, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Make sure you go out and feed before going home, okay?” He once again sighs, noddin along. “Later again, I promise.”

That has him flinging the coffin doors open and immediately helping you up with renewed vigour.

—

You come home to a quiet house with two full goody bags in tow. Calling out to Hobie, you surmise that he's still out when he doesn't immediately come running to your side.

As you set down your bags on the kitchen counter, you hear scratching just out in the backyard. Your instincts kick in, within a second, you have a wooden stake in one hand and a crossbow loaded with silver tipped arrows in the other.

You stalk the familiar hall, feet silent as you make your way towards the glass doors dividing you and the outside world.

A drop of sweat drips from your temple, and as if the sound of it hitting the floorboards has whatever is outside lifting its head from the dirt.

Its eyes glow in the dark, two white orbs eerie and unblinking at you. Whatever it is, it's huge.

You nudge the door open with your foot, crossbow raised as soon as the glass opens. The trigger squeezes against your finger, but you don't release the arrow as you hear a faint whimpering coming from the creature.

Raising a brow, it doesn't attack you or even lunge at you as the shadows of the night keeps it fully hidden from you. Using your bow, you flip the light switch open, and with the light, it reveals a large dog with floppy ears, brown puppy dog eyes and the whitest coat you've ever seen.

Your hunter knowledge fails you as the dog puts his head down on the grass, whimpering louder and ears downward while its tail swooshes from side to side. Its big brown eyes stare at you, blinking slowly.

Your mind says ‘doggy!’ but your gut says ‘werewolf.’ The dog is a bit smaller than a regular werewolf, but it does have the same qualities as the supernatural creature with its large paws, sharp nails, and fluffy coat. If you squint you can only see a siberian husky with its paw and neck bleeding. Instead of listening to your gut, you go the human route and help an animal in need. Maybe it's just a really big breed of husky, a malamute perhaps? Who knows? You're not a dog breed expert.

Without a second thought, you put your weapons down to grab the first aid kit. It wouldn't hurt to just help the poor dog, right?

—

Hobie comes home with a deep frown, irked and annoyed at his fellow vampires for making him put up with hours of talk that could've been an email instead. Surely hundred year old vampires can work the internet, right? At least there he can pretend that he's listening. He was basically there to stop them from ripping each other's throats apart. Add that and the fact that his hunt was abysmal and wasn't satisfactory, he's more than ready to sit down with you and air his grievances. And maybe get a cuddle or two.

But the second he stepped foot in his abode, he felt something wasn't quite alright.

He sees your shoes in the foyer, and your coat in the hanger. All normal there. As he continues on, the hair on the back of his neck rises up, nose picking up a smell akin to a wet dog. The goody bags you promised him are on the counter, its contents strewn out into the countertop.

The worry in his chest grows as he walks around the empty house. He doesn't call your name when your scent lingers around the house. He follows it, burgundy and lavender wafting across his nose. His fangs come out fully, sharp and shining in the yellow lamps of the place. Claws digging into his palms, he sees the backdoor open, and your crossbow laying on the floor.

A wooden knock blares in his ears, and within a half second, he's already inside the garden shed with his teeth bared and fear etched within him.

The door breaks from its hinges, all splintered wood, and the door itself flying towards the rose bushes as you stare at Hobie with wide eyes.

“Hi?” You say, brows furrowed at his blown out eyes and claws digging into the doorway. “You okay?”

Hobie heaves, chest rising up and down as he sees you sitting down on the floor with a wolf laying down beside you. The creature's head lays on your lap, paw resting on your thighs while puppy dog eyes turn into slits, dangerously narrowed at him.

He gazes down at the dog and back to you, instead of calming down, his eyes turn bloodshot, nails digging further into the creaking wood.

“What's this fuckin' werewolf doin' ‘ere?!”

“What?” You splutter out, hands smelling of antiseptic, hands that are buried into the dog's fur. Hobie in this mood doesn't faze you one bit when you've seen him angrier when a fellow vampire came too close to you for comfort. Or when the mailman left his package out in the snow. “He's just a regular dog. An alaskan malamute I think, I googled it.”

Hobie senses the innocence in your voice, his eyes go back to normal, but his fangs and claws stay. Just in case.

He points at the dog accusingly. The poor thing is slowly getting up on his wobbly legs. “That is a bloody werewolf, love. I can smell it from ‘ere.”

“No, he's not.” You chuckle, and you now notice the shadow looming over you. Turning your head, you see the supposed dog standing up on his hind legs. “Oh, that's a werewolf.”

Hobie yanks you to his side, body sliding down on the floor before he grabs you back to your feet and standing in front of you.

The werewolf yelps and howls into the night while his coat turns to skin, fur changing drastically, shedding it all on the garden shed floor. His nails retract back, the sound akin to ripping flesh. A snout disappears, and a face, a handsome one yet contorted in pain, replaces it. The howls turn into a very human grown as he keels over on his knees, body bare and sweaty under the single light of the shed.

Hobie stands in front of you, completely shielding you from the sight. He takes his coat off, tossing it in front of the former werewolf.

“Make yourself decent, mate.”

He sniffs, and you hear shuffling cloth. “Thanks,” the unfamiliar voice says as you peek over Hobie's shoulder. “Thank you especially, hunter.” He shows you his bandaged neck and arm.

“You're welcome,” you stand aside to address him fully, and Hobie's still an unmovable wall in front of you, eyes glaring at the stranger. “are you feeling better now, uh?”

“Ekko,” he fixes his platinum hair as best as he can, pulling the twists back to show his face. The red coat sits on his body, sleeves longer, and length right under his knees. The crimson hue fits well with his white hair. “I think my savior deserves to know that much.” Stepping forward, Hobie moves back, hand grasping your side. “I can't fight you in this form, vampire.”

“‘m not worried ‘bout me, werewolf.”

Ekko flicks his eyes over to you, who seems to be unbothered by the whole ordeal like it's a regular Saturday for you. You're not afraid of him and what you just saw, that intrigues him. And for the vampire, who's desperately trying to protect you, has his curiosity piqued. Your whole relationship with Hobie turns everything he knew about vampires and hunters upside down.

“Nothing to worry about then.” He smiles at the two of you. A smile that eases Hobie a bit. Just a sliver.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Hobie turns his head towards you so fast that if he wasn't a vampire he might've broken his neck. “You must be starving after that transformation. We have a werewolf friend so we know how tiring it is.”

Hobie pinches your side lightly. “Love.”

“Why not? We have Gwen over all the time.”

“That sounds great.” Your guest suddenly says, voice ripping through your banter with Hobie.

You both turn to Ekko, who's shining canines are in full display. His hands are casually in Hobie's coat pockets, head tilted slightly, and showing off an hourglass shape tattoo peeking from the bandage around his neck.

Grinning, you clasp your hands together. “Great! I'll get the table ready!”

The second you turn around, there's practically sparks of electricity in between them as Hobie and Ekko have a staredown in the garden shed.

“Try not to kill each other!”

[seokmn]

EYES OFF OF YOU — CHAPTER TWO

SYNOPSIS :: Seokmin was desperate to find the perfect model to pair up with his friend for his upcoming project, and he found you.

����. word count: 0.9k words 🎧. now playing: Eyes Off You – PRETTYMUCH

Seokmin was starting to get annoyed at Mingyu and Wonwoo always asking “what about that one?”. He knew that they were just trying to help, but none of the girls they pointed out gave you the feeling that they were the right one.

He didn’t know exactly who or what he was looking for, he just thought that once he found the perfect model, he would know.

While he waited for the right girl to show up right in front of him, he took pictures of the carnival and of the students along Wonwoo. Even though he was getting frustrated by his mission not being accomplished, his smile and kindness never left his body. He would ask politely to take pictures of the students and grin at the people who would tap on his shoulder to ask him to take a picture of them and their friends.

“I’m gonna stay up all night editing all these pics.” Seokmin chuckled and Wonwoo mirrored his chuckle. “Me too, I think Kazuha will stay up all night too.”

“Did she volunteer as well? I didn’t know, she didn’t tell me.”

“She didn’t tell me either, I saw her name on the list when I went to sign my name up. Now I’m gonna go around, it’s not right to have two photographers at the same area. Good luck on the pictures and on finding the model, sorry for not helping that much.”

“It’s okay, I appreciate it anyways.”

Wonwoo patted Seokmin’s shoulder and left. Mingyu stayed beside Seokmin all the time, annoying the poor guy more than helping him out.

“Seokmin-ah.”

“What?” He mumbled, focused on taking a picture of the view.

“Let’s go see the dance covers.”

“I can’t, I gotta stay in this area. I think Wonwoo will be there, you can see the covers with him.”

“No, but think about it. Wonwoo is more skilled when it comes to taking pictures of landscapes, and you are better at taking pictures of people. I don’t know about Kazuha, but I’m pretty sure that you would be the best photographer to take photos of the dancers, think about how good they would look in the newspaper.”

Seokmin sighed and looked at Mingyu. “Fine, lead the way.”

“Yes! Follow me.”

Mingyu walked towards the big stage while Seokmin followed him behind. Meanwhile, you peeked from behind the curtains and saw people already gathering together and creating a small crowd.

“Holy shit, people are starting to wait for us,” You stopped peeking out and turned your body to face Sujin and Seoyoung. “They’re like, really waiting for us.”

“That’s so exciting!!”

“And kinda terrifying,” you added. “But it’ll be fine, right?”

Sujin chuckled and hugged you, her hand caressing your back slowly as a way to soothe your anxiety. “Yes, it’ll be fine. We practiced a lot, everything will go according to plan.”

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen!” You heard Sooyoung’s voice loud and clear because of the microphone. “Are you ready to see three incredible and talented dancers?”

“Why is Soonyoung doing the opening? He didn’t tell me about that! Why is no one telling me anything…” Seokmin pouted as he took the camera to capture his sight.

“He wanted to keep a secret, but he kept posting mysterious stuff on Twitter,” Mingyu chuckled. “I think he just didn’t tell anyone because no one asked him about the mysterious tweets.”

“Give it up for Dancing Queens!” Soonyoung shouted and left the stage.

You, Seoyoung and Sujin got into your positions, and soon enough the curtains started to open. You could hear the faint sound of people talking and clapping, but the sound of your heartbeat was louder.

When the song started to play, you took a deep breath and forgot about all the people with their eyes and cameras on you and on your friends. You imagined that you were back in the practice room and there was only you and the girls. It always helped you to not freak out during a presentation.

Seokmin was in the crowd doing his job as a photographic major, but someone captivated him, the brunette girl on the stage dancing smoothly to such a difficult choreography. He couldn’t explain what made him so fascinated by you, but there was something there that stopped him from looking somewhere else. He watched you for a few seconds before reluctantly getting back to Earth and taking pictures once again.

Once the song finished, you and the girls struck a pose and heard the loud applause and whistles. You smiled brightly, clearly proud of yourself and of your friends for your hard work being rewarded with such love from the other students.

“Everyone, please don’t forget about us. We’re Dancing Queens!” Sujin spoke in the mic and waved at the crowd, and you and Seoyoung mirrored her action and waved before going backstage.

Seokmin stayed there, he had to take pictures of the next dance covers, but all he wanted was to go after you and talk to you, to kill his curiosity about you. But the thought of Soonyoung probably knowing you made him more relieved, he would see you again no matter what.

“Woah! It was amazing, I can’t believe we did it!” You were so happy and euphoric that your voice came out as a shout.

Seoyoung screamed from happiness and hugged you and Sujin. “We did amazing, girls! They loved it, they loved us!”

“Now we can finally enjoy the carnival. Let’s go, I’m starving!”

MASTERLiST - PREViOUS - NEXT

🔔. tagging! :: @svtmaru, @wonkierideul, @noircheols, @mi9yuz, @u7140823, @paradiseoflosers, @tastyluvr, @starshuas, @sooviiee, @supi-wupi, @starsunoo