#and in the process getting caught in between the fight and in the end being stuck and not sure as to what to choose and do with himself

[triglycercule]

in undertale you choose to care for the characters and if you do you can get the happy ending you want

but if you dont then you might just kill some out of inpatience (me fr) or greed for G or because you suck at fighting or really you might kill them ALL because you just want to see what would happen,,,,, you want to get that delicious 0/100 (idk how many monsters there are in the underground) full completion with all side quests unlocked and all possible dialogues read and every single little thing done no matter how cruel those actions could be,,,,

it's the lack of care for these characters due to just seeing them as nothing more than video game scripted characters and just something to have fun with that causes players of games to do cruel and immoral things

ok but triglycercule what does this have to do with the murder time trio?? idk maybe the fact that killer completely embodies that last sentence to me

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[sevsevteen]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ have a bigger bite!

The waiting room buzzed with low conversation. Stylists moved between members, fixing stray hairs, reapplying powder. The earlier energy from their performance had subsided - everyone was still shaken from what had happened earlier that day.

You sat quietly at the far end of the room, a warm blanket draped over your legs, curled up on the couch. The adrenaline had worn off. All that was left was a dull ache in your knees and the heaviness of everything you’d processed since.

The fan’s tearful gratitude still echoed in your head.

You knew you did the right thing. But now that the chaos had died down, the weight of it all was finally catching up.

Then-

“Guys!”

Dino came skidding in from the hallway, nearly tripping on the rug in his excitement. His phone was in his hand, screen already angled toward you.

“Look! Look at this!”

You blinked in surprise as he dropped beside you on the couch, pulling you closer by the arm. “It’s all over the internet. Someone caught everything on video - the fan just posted a thank you herself!”

Your fingers hesitated before taking the phone, eyes scanning the screen.

It was a post.

From the fan.

sz @shoozyycarat

“i didn’t even realize it until she stepped in. she grabbed his arm so fast i thought it was scripted or something. thank you, unnie. thank you for not hesitating to protect me. i’ve been a carat since debut and i’ve never felt safer. ♡

our 14th member really is Seventeen’s guardian.”

Below the message were reposts of the video from various angles - fans gasping, the man trying to escape, you holding on with everything you had. The quote tweets were endless.

“girl didn’t even flinch she just GRABBED HIM”

“not all heroes wear capes…some wear custom stage fits”

“SHE PROTECTED HER LIKE IT’S INSTINCT IM CRYING”

“a true girl's girl, she really just said not on my watch”

Your chest tightened.

“You’re a hero,” Minghao grinned, nudging your shoulder. “Look at the comments. They love you.”

As you scrolled, you found yourself smiling faintly despite the dull ache in your limbs. Each word of gratitude, admiration, and fierce support from fans and strangers alike stitched a little warmth back into your heart.

“Exactly. That fan - she’s going to remember that for the rest of her life.” Dino added.

A gentle cough from nearby made them look up. Jeonghan stood there with a soft smile, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.

“Don’t let it weigh on you too much,” he said. “You did what none of us saw fast enough to do. We’re proud of you. All of us.”

You bit your lip, looking between them, overwhelmed with quiet emotion.

From the other side of the room, Jihoon, who had been watching silently, spoke up without even lifting his head from his phone.

“Don’t get used to fighting grown men, though.”

The room chuckled, and you laughed - genuinely this time.

You didn’t expect gratitude.

You didn’t do it for attention.

But being reminded that you weren’t alone? That meant everything.

--

[anashins]

Could you write a bf!Jaehyun who made his gf!reader upset & trying to get her attention again by walking around shirtless/being touchy with her but reader ignores him. Days after, reader decides to turn tables and tease him instead, leading to smut?

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: fluff, romance, smut

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Jaehyun doesn't want to apologize, so you make him.

A/N: Hiii, I still have requests sitting around, so since I have time now, I'll get them done. Hope you like it :)

“Here, let me help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

Jaehyun sighed and still squeezed himself past you to reach the upper shelf from where he got the glass of strawberry jam that you wanted for your breakfast. You flinched, but not because you hadn’t expected him to still help you, but because he was shirtless. 

Had you not, only a few minutes ago, seen him leaving the bedroom wearing his hoodie? He was doing it on purpose, you knew it too well by now. And every time though, it worked… dammit. 

You swallowed when you watched his arm stretch out, his defined muscles flexing with the motion. With his gaze fixed on the shelf, you were able to look at him blatantly from the side. If he could have seen you, you would have ignored him - like yesterday and the whole morning already.

You didn’t even know what you were fighting about anymore, but the point was that you expected an apology from him and he hadn’t given you one yet, claiming it wasn’t his fault and that you should apologize - the audacity?!

Just remembering this made you snap back to reality and you stopped drooling over your boyfriend’s hot body altogether again. You were together for quite a time already, you knew what his naked body was capable of, taking a few days off to let him think about what he had done wrong wouldn’t hurt you.

So when Jaehyun turned back to you, you were wearing your moody expression from before, which took him quite by surprise, you saw it written all over his face. You snatched the marmalade glass out of his hand and quickly left the kitchen.

That was a close call, you remembered thinking.

But throughout the entire day, you caught Jaehyun passing by you a little too close, wearing a bit too much aftershave, having his hair a bit too tousled and his pants hanging a bit too low… but each time, you were proud to say that were very good at resisting these temptations…

… though it took you all you’ve got to not jump on him nonetheless.

____

It had been two days since your fight and you finally had enough.

If Jaehyun didn’t want to apologize, then you would make him.

“Can you help me?”

Jaehyun entered the bedroom in a swift second. Perhaps, since you initiated this conversation, he was  hoping to finally make up with you again. Of course, you wanted that too by now, but it wasn’t going to be so easy for him.

“What is-”

The words got stuck in his throat when he spotted you, and he needed a moment to process the sight of you wearing a light, revealing negligee that only ended shortly beneath your bum. The fact that you weren’t wearing something underneath didn’t need to be spoken out, because it was Jaehyun’s favorite.

“What are you doing?” he asked carefully.

“I need help changing the sheets. Here.”

You threw a sweet, partially wicked smile at him while simultaneously handing the sheet over to him, and then shifted around - but not without shaking your bum a bit too obviously and throwing your hair over your shoulder a bit too enthusiastically. 

Jaehyun dropped the sheets almost immediately and had you in his grip within an instant, embracing you tightly from behind with one hand beneath your breasts and the other between your thighs, squeezing into the flesh. It hadn’t taken much effort or time, you had known it would work. After all, it worked all the time. 

You suppressed a giggle and stiffened your body in resistance while he sank his mouth in the side of your neck and started nibbling on the skin.

“I’m still mad,” you complained.

“I don’t care.”

Skillfully, he pulled away, then turned you in his grip so that a moment later, you were pressed into his chest and both his hands were grabbing your ass cheeks now, massaging them thoroughly. You cursed under your breath, he knew very well that you loved this too much, and you were asking yourself who was playing with who now and whether this had been his plan all along.

You weren’t able to say a word anymore though. Forgotten was the fact that you were still mad at him when shortly later, Jaehyun was lying underneath you on the mattress and stripped of all his clothes. With your finger tips, you traced along the lines of his abs while you simultaneously felt his length trying to pave its way past your thighs and into you. But you wouldn’t let him yet.

“Apologize,” you demanded, pressing his upper back down when he tried to brace his elbows against the mattress. 

“What?”

It took you much self-control with him twitching right at your entrance, but your ego was stronger than your desire. Or that was what you thought. “Apologize now. Otherwise I won’t continue.”

Saliva had collected in your mouth, and you swallowed it all down. Admittedly, this was the hardest position you had ever been in, because the desire your head and your core expressed at the same time couldn’t be more far off from each other and not align. You didn’t know who to listen to at his point, and Jaehyun’s turned on gaze didn’t help at all.

Suddenly, he chuckled. He stretched out his hand to caress your hidden nipple under the thin fabric of the lingerie and a deep sigh escaped your lips. “But we’re already there, didn’t you notice?”

Somewhere, between your thoughts and sighs, he had slipped all the way in already, and considering how wet you had already gotten from all the teasing and foreplay, it had been so very easy for him to do so. You arched your back when Jaehyun bucked his hips up, penetrating you deep inside.

“You like it? I can see that you like it.”

“No!” you lied, and he grinned even wider. 

The way your head lolled back and your thighs clenched around his groin to control the angle he was pushing into you, let him know that indeed, you were enjoying this very much. You always enjoyed whenever he did that. Only for a few moments, you let that happen. 

You then heaved up your hips and came down to him, matching his rhythm and now making him moan in return. It grew pleasantly wet where your bodies were connected, adding to the sensation so that not much later, you were feeling every fiber in your body tugging on a nearing orgasm.

But you wouldn’t lose, not when you were this close, and reading Jaehyun’s expression, he was even closer. Suddenly, you halted. But as to not let all the work go to vain, you settled on his hips and just slowly slid yours back and forth, creating only enough friction to keep you both on your nearing orgasms.

“Say… it,” you repeated, your breathing coming in hitches, “apo… logize.”

“Are you being for real right now?” Shock mixed with realization on Jaehyun’s face when it dawned on him that there was probably no way for you to let him release otherwise.

“Yes.”

To prove to him how serious you were, you lifted up your hip and came slamming down on him, making him gasp the moment your bodies crashed together. And then again, and again, pushing him closer to his release… and then stopped.

Jaehyun looked at you through fluttered lids, eyes heavy and lips dry. But he didn’t say a word. Fine. You bent forward and pressed your palms against his abs, angling your spine. Then again, you heaved up your hip, this time a bit higher, and as he feared you might let him out all the way, you slowly sank down on him again. Jaehyun hated this, and you knew. He draped his forearm over his face and cursed,

“Shitshitshitshitshitshit”,

but you didn’t stop. Only when you felt the onset of his pulsing motions from within, then you rested on top of him again. Even though it was hard for you too, you could keep this going.

“FINE!”

You widened your eyes, almost not believing what you had just heard. But you had no time to rise all the way up and watch him say it to your face as Jaehyun suddenly pulled you down to lie on top of his chest with his arms wrapped around your back, and whispered into your ear,

“I’m so sorry.”

“Very well.”

Only using your hips now, you remained in this position and picked up your movements without a break. You heard Jaehyun whimpering into your ear, begging for you to go faster until his grip around you got so tight, your breath nearly caught.

“I’m cumming,” he said after not too long and eventually did so in long spurts inside of you.

When he had made you cum too, all over his hands with your teasing lingerie all gone so that he was able to use his hands exploring and triggering all sensitive spots on your body, you were lying side by side on the bed, out of breath, but thoroughly happy.

“Please,” Jaehyun then said, “let’s never argue for this long again.”

“Hm. I don’t know. I think it has quite the benefits.”

Then, you both laughed.

[7ndipity]

Their Crush Likes Them Back

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: What would happen if the members were so deep in their belief that their crush is one-sided that they're oblivious to the fact that the feeling is very much mutual

Warnings: lil angst, suggestive, swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! This honestly was so fun to write, and really helped me beat back my writer's block. I hope y’all like it! Based on this post

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin:

He’s been so focused on trying to hide his feelings and just being a good friend to you, that he doesn’t realize that you’ve not only caught onto his feelings, but that you’re also very into him and are actively flirting with him😫

You keep trying to subtly tip him off, giving him extra compliments and calling him petnames that make his ears turn bright red, but he just keeps brushing it off as you’re just being a really sweet friend.

You even tried triggering his jealous streak in an attempt to get him to speak up, like “If they’re not good enough, then who is, hmmm!?” but it always just ends with him mumbling something you can’t understand and him driving you home in frustrated silence.

It’s after one of these such nights that you end up blurting out your own feelings, since he won’t do it! 

When you finally tell him how you feel, he just sits there for a solid minute completely dumbfounded before managing to speak. “...are you sure? Like you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” “ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!”

Honestly not that much changes after you’ve talked everything out and made things official, at least at first. He’s very gradual in his shift into ‘boyfriend mode’, starting with smaller but sweet gestures like bringing you flowers.

The one thing that changes immediately tho is he now holds your hand/arm/waist everywhere you go. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing, he has to be holding onto you. You’re the most valuable thing in the world to him, and now that he has you, there’s no way he’s letting you go.

Yoongi:

As good as Yoongi is at hiding his feelings, you're the complete opposite, showering him with compliments and praise at every opportunity, turning him into the shyest lil meow meow, but you can’t help it, he deserves to know how amazing he is

You know you’re one of the only people that he feels fully comfortable being vulnerable and open with, which is why it hurts so much when he pulls away or gives the silent treatment after fights or gets too into his own head. 

This leads to more than a few arguments between you where you all but spell out how you feel about him, but he somehow still manages to twist it around in his head to be platonic.

It becomes abundantly clear that anything short of straight up kissing him on the mouth is just gonna be met with ‘oh, they didn’t mean it like that.’ Like mf I said you were ideal husband material! Get your head out of your ass!

When you finally do get him to understand that you like him, he gets soo quiet(you know that lil confused look he does where his eyes just go everywhere? that) like Yoongi.exe has stopped working, please reboot.

Once he’s had time to process and y’all talk everything out, he becomes the softest and most dedicated boy. Liike, now that he can actually show his feelings, he’s a fucking SIMP, constantly surprising you with little gifts and gestures, and just always staring at you with the softest heart eyes.

Hobi:

Very much like Jin in that he’s soo focused on being a good friend and not making you uncomfortable that he somehow misses how you’re very much simping over the man. Like it’s not even subtle, you’re always looking at him with literal stars in your eyes.

He tends to mirror your energy/behavior to match your vibe tho, which becomes a bit problematic bc you end up acting a lot more ‘couple-y’ than either of you initially realize. Like, it’s totally normal for him to snuggle and kiss you on the cheek, pay no mind to the fact that he doesn’t do it with anyone else but you.

(Jungkook thinks it’s hilarious tbh and keeps finding ways to put you two in forced proximity situations in the hopes that y’all will finally get a fucking hint and confess already!)

He kinda realizes he’s pushing the boundaries of what’s ‘okay’ for just friends, but he can’t help but be selfish when it comes to you, wanting to be as close to you as possible, even if he thinks it will never go anywhere, not realizing that you’re doing the exact same thing.

When you finally talk to him one night about how you actually feel, he doesn’t even think and just tackles you, kissing you until you both forget how to breathe

Instantly the most devoted boyfriend in the world. Texts you constantly, brings you flowers for every date or snacks when you hangout at each other's places. He kisses you constantly, always mumbling about “making up for lost time” when you tease him about it.

Namjoon:

I totally see this happening to him tbh. Like as in tune as he can be sometimes, he’s kinda oblivious when it comes to your relationship, even if it’s obvious to everyone else in your friend group..

He never really questions why you always happen to be free when he wants to hangout, or the fact that you always answer his texts regardless of the time of day/night.

What he does see however is how much it hurts you when he tries to pull away when he starts to get too into his own head about everything, making his will crumble almost immediately and coming back to you soo apologetic.

He doesn’t understand why you’re always so forgiving and willing to stick beside him through everything, no matter how many times you tell him it’s because you love him

I see telling him how you actually feel going one or two ways: you sitting him down and talking everything out super calm and maturely. or-

You blurting it out in the heat of the moment during a fight, resulting in a brief stunned silence and then you getting pinned to the nearest surface and kissing each other till you can’t breathe and then dragging each other to the bedroom…

You don’t really address it anymore after that night, you’re just dating now and thats it. (Tho, you may have forgotten to notify the rest of your friend group and so they don’t realize you’re together until you kiss him goodbye in front of them and Hobi drops glass in shock, lol)

Jimin:

It would be almost funny how oblivious he is, if it weren’t soo fucking frustating.

Like usually he’s the one flirting up a storm, flustering and confusing people left and right, but with you he’s turned into a complete mess, trying(and failing) to hide how shy and blushy you make him with just the smallest gestures.

Which you would think would help the two of you to realize that you’re both into each other, but nope, you’re just dancing around the obvious and driving everyone else in your friend group insane(Tae and Yoongi have a bet on who will actually make the first move)

Like he notices some of the little cues that you’ve been dropping that you might be into him too, but he honestly just feels like he’s imagining things because that’s what he wants to happen

(tbh he thinks you’re trying to kill him with how close and touchy you get sometimes because he wants to kiss you soo fucking bad)

When you finally get the courage to tell him, it’s quiet and intimate, at one of your apartments in the middle of the night while you’re laying on the couch or bed together talking about whatever, and he goes so still and quiet for minute you think he fell asleep or something before he suddenly rolls on top of you, grinning like an idiot and wrapping you up in the tightest hug ever and kissing you breathless.

You two dating isn’t that much different than when you were just friends except you’re somehow EVEN MORE CLINGY with each other(who knew that was even possible?! lol) constantly touching or holding onto each other or stealing kisses when you think no one’s looking

Taehyung:

Honestly? He’s lowkey aware of your flirty behavior, but he keeps trying to brush it off as “they’re just being cute” because he doesn’t want to accidentally misread things and fuck things up between you by trying to make a move that’s not wanted.

Nevermind the fact that you are very openly making your interests known. Like there’s nothing to misread here my dude, everyone and their grandma can see that I am absolutely smitten with you.

Notices your more jealous/clingy moments, but doesn’t quite recognize them for what they are or the reason for them. All he knows is that you’re hanging onto his arm and giving him attention, which he soaks up like the happiest lil sponge. Who cares if you’re a little overprotective of him? He thinks it’s cute.

Similar to Hobi in that he worries sometimes that he’s overstepping what’s okay for just friends for his own benefit, even though multiple friends have pointed out that you were actively initiating those moments with him too, it’s not just a one-sided thing

He fully refuses to believe it tho until one night as he’s walking you home and you admit to him that you wished that he was your boyfriend. He turns into the smiliest bean ever at your confession, latching onto you like a giant koala bear and refusing to let go for the rest of the night as you talk and share how you’ve both really been feeling.

Instantly shifts into teddybear boyfriend mode, super cuddly and calling you every petname he can think of. He jokes that he’s just catching up on all the stuff that you missed out on before, but he’s lowkey always been like this with you, he’s just free to finally give into those impulses and kiss you anytime he wants😊

Jungkook:

God bless this boy, he’s soo fucking blind it’s absolutely infuriating

Like neither of you are exactly subtle about your feelings towards each other, but he somehow always manages to miss your hints or flirtations. Like you could be walking around wearing a neon sign that says “I’m in love with you” and he would just be like “oh cool necklace Y/n!”😑

He notices how you tend to stick close to him whenever the two of you hangout together, which he loves, but somehow he misses the gooey-eyed looks you keep giving him.

He also doesn’t realize that one of the only reasons you put up with his possessiveness is because you keep hoping that he’ll fess up and admit his feelings, but he never does, always backing off at the last moment because he’s terrified of fucking things up with you.

Meanwhile you’re practically beating your head against the wall because he’s driving you insane.

Man literally doesn’t catch on fully until you grab him by the face and kiss him one night after an argument, freezing in shock for half a minute before reciprocating very enthusiastically.(everyone immediately knows what happened the next day tho because you’re both fucking covered in hickeys like 👀)

Refuses to leave your side from that point on, he’s now your personal bodyguard/house husband/assistant/ etc. Anything you need, he’s on it immediately. Always finding little excuses to touch you until you point out that he doesn’t actually need a reason anymore, and then he’s just touching/kissing you every time you’re in arms reach

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @seleneacyoflove @k4ngelz @universal-travel-er

[noorpersona]

Managerial Duties: Aoba Johsai

Aoba Johsai’s volleyball team was many things—talented, competitive, and, above all, nosy. But when it came to you, their manager, they had collectively accepted one simple fact: you lived in oversized, comfortable clothing.

Baggy sweatpants, hoodies, loose athletic shirts—if it wasn’t designed for maximum comfort, you didn’t wear it. Even during official team meetings outside of school, you opted for relaxed attire: a sweatshirt over leggings, sneakers, and maybe a jacket if it was cold. It wasn’t that you disliked fashion, exactly. You just didn’t see the need to dress up for them.

So when you casually mentioned you had to leave practice early for a family event, no one thought much of it.

"Skipping out on us?" Oikawa teased, tossing a volleyball in the air as you packed up your clipboard. "And here I thought we were your favorite people in the world."

"You’re absolutely not," you deadpanned, adjusting the strap on your bag.

"What’s the occasion?" Iwaizumi asked, more genuinely curious.

"Wedding," you muttered. "Family thing. My parents are making me go."

Matsukawa, stretching lazily, smirked. "That why you’re sneaking off?"

"Something like that," you grumbled, crossing your arms. "They’re making me wear this stupid dress. It’s all tight and uncomfortable, and the shoes are even worse. Who the hell decided that formalwear should be painful?"

Hanamaki raised an eyebrow. "What’s it look like?"

You groaned, already dreading the memory of trying it on. "It’s one of those straight-jacket ones that make you feel like you can’t breathe. Apparently, looking ‘put together’ is more important than basic human comfort. I swear, my mom picked this just to torture me."

"Sounds fancy," Watari mused.

"Sounds awful," you corrected. "I’m gonna suffer through this thing and then burn it the second I get home."

"Bet you’ll look nice, though," Kindaichi added hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You gave him a deadpan look. "If you call suffering looking nice, sure. Anyway, I’ll see you guys at the next practice. Don’t destroy the gym while I’m gone."

"No promises!" Hanamaki called as you walked off.

That was the end of it.

Practice was still in full swing when you stepped back into the gym, freshly changed and already regretting every single life choice that had led you to this moment. You had only come back because you’d stupidly left your phone on the bench, a mistake that now seemed far worse than just being phoneless for a few hours. The team was scattered across the court, finishing up drills and cooldowns, their chatter filling the space as they moved around. You had hoped—prayed, even—that you could slip in, grab your phone, and leave unnoticed. But fate, as always, was cruel.

Then you stepped forward.

And the entire gym stopped dead in its tracks.

Oikawa, who had been mid-sentence, visibly choked. His water bottle slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor.

"Holy shit," Matsukawa whispered, not even trying to be subtle.

Iwaizumi, caught off guard, blinked hard, as if his brain needed an extra second to process what was happening. Yahaba, who had been chatting with Kunimi, turned so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, mouth opening but no words coming out. Kunimi, usually too lazy to react to anything, actually paused, his usual indifferent stare slightly wider than normal.

Even Kyotani, who rarely paid attention to anything that wasn’t volleyball or fighting, furrowed his brows, looking between you and the rest of the team like he had just walked into some elaborate prank. After a long pause, he finally muttered, "Why do you look like that?"

You shifted uncomfortably, hating every second of this. "My God. Can you guys stop staring?"

"We can’t," Watari blurted, sounding just as shocked as the rest.

Because, for the first time since they had met you, you weren’t wearing your usual baggy, oversized clothing. You weren’t hidden under loose layers of fabric that swallowed your frame. No, today, you had been dressed by your mother, which meant you were in something far more… put together.

The dress was sleek and form-fitting, something you never would have picked for yourself. The fabric hugged your silhouette in a way that felt unfamiliar, and you had spent the entire night feeling like you were playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes. To make matters worse, your mother had insisted on makeup—subtle, but noticeable enough to make you feel even less like yourself. The heels were even worse—unsteady, impractical, and making you curse whoever thought fancy shoes should hurt.

"Why—how—what?!" Kindaichi, who had been stretching, nearly tipped over from shock.

"Is that you?" Hanamaki added, pointing unnecessarily.

"No," you deadpanned. "I’m an imposter. The real me is at the wedding, plotting my escape."

"Hah—seriously, though! You clean up nice," Matsukawa mused, looking you up and down with a smirk. "Didn’t know you had it in you."

"No one did," Yahaba muttered, still looking at you like you had just shapeshifted before his eyes. "What the hell."

"I don’t," you grumbled, adjusting the hem of the dress uncomfortably. "My parents picked this out. Not my choice."

"Your parents should pick your outfits more often," Oikawa said before immediately ducking as Iwaizumi chucked a towel at his head.

Kunimi let out a short exhale. "So that’s what was under all those sweatpants. Huh."

Kyotani just grunted, arms crossed. "Tch. Whatever. Doesn’t change anything." But the way he kept glancing at you said otherwise.

"And that’s why I dress the way I do," you huffed.

Sensing your growing discomfort, Iwaizumi sighed, running a hand down his face. "Alright, that’s enough. Stop freaking out."

"I am freaking out," Oikawa retorted. "This is earth-shattering news."

"You’re an idiot," Iwaizumi muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You love me," Oikawa shot back, undeterred.

"I don’t," Iwaizumi deadpanned.

You exhaled, already exhausted. "Okay, I’m leaving now. If anyone makes another comment, I swear I’m quitting this team."

"No, wait!" Oikawa called. "Just one picture—"

You shot him a withering glare that promised pain if he continued that sentence. He wisely shut up.

With that, you turned on your heel and left, still muttering under your breath about hating dresses, hating heels, and how you were never letting your mother pick your outfits again. Behind you, the team was still buzzing, voices overlapping as they tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Matsukawa let out a low whistle. "Damn. We’re never gonna see that again, are we?"

"Nope," Hanamaki sighed. "Should’ve taken that picture."

"So we had a hot manager this whole time?" Yahaba muttered, still looking at where you stood like he was processing a cosmic revelation.

Oikawa, arms crossed, hummed thoughtfully. "Iwa-chan, do you think we could convince her to dress up again?"

Iwaizumi didn’t even hesitate. "No."

[eddieslunchbox]

eighty-six, baby

summary: the ups and downs of the day eddie finally graduates

18+ [boyfriend!eddie x female!reader]

contains: blood, violence, bullying, hurt/comfort, swearing, mentions of alcohol, superficial injuries, fluff, kissing, surprise party, dustin and eddie acting like siblings

word count: 9.7k

a/n: baby's graduation day! eddie really deserved to walk across that stage in '86 and this is my interpretation of how he ended up going out with a bang and some blood. please heed the warning above if you're not comfortable with blood/violence. as always, please reblog/comment if you enjoyed this- I love hearing from you ❤

A metal clang rings through Eddie’s ears as he shuts the lid of his, now empty, lunch box, having met up for one final deal before the start of the ceremony. He shoves the tin into the back of his van and plucks his graduation cap off of the passenger seat. 

"Hey, Munson!"

Eddie stiffens, his knuckles turning white around his cap as he straightens his spine and heaves a heavy sigh through his nose.

Graduation starts in thirty minutes and he really thought that he could avoid this today, but he just isn’t that lucky. 

Shutting the door to his van and turning around, he plasters an unbothered smirk on his face to meet Jason and Andy, both dressed in their gowns like everyone else. 

“Happy graduation, freak.” Andy grins, trailing behind Jason until they both come to stand in front of Eddie, effectively cornering him against the side of his van and blocking anyone’s view who may be walking through the parking lot. “I’m shocked that Higgins is actually letting you take home a diploma today.” 

Eddie brushes this off, glancing towards the school where you’re waiting inside the front doors for him to finish his deal so that you could steal one last kiss before he has to line up with the other students. 

“Happy graduation, fellas.” He tips his chin in a small bow. “If you came here for a trade, you’re out of luck as of-” he glances at his watch, “three minutes ago.” 

Before he can blink, Jason is wrapping his fist around the collar of Eddie’s gown and slamming him against the side of his van, rolling his eyes in the process. 

“We don’t want your weed, freak,” Jason grits, the corner of his lip turning up in a menacing smile. “You really think I was just gonna let you walk right out of here without a goodbye?” 

Eddie plasters on his best poker face despite the way his heart skips a beat in his chest, Jason’s breath fanning across his face smelling like beer and the remnants of cigar smoke. 

This was the third year Eddie spent as a senior in high school and with your help, he finally managed to get good enough grades and actually submit all of his assignments to secure his diploma and get the hell out of Hawkins High.

When you met, Eddie was in the eleventh grade and you in the tenth, and you were the dictionary definition of high school sweethearts. Attached at the hip and caught making out in the hallway between classes a few too many times. 

When Eddie was held back from graduating the first time, he was pissed but he also secretly enjoyed getting to spend another year with you, taking a majority of the same classes. The second time it happened though, he had to watch you graduate while he sat in the stands with a flimsy bouquet of flowers in his hand and a shameful feeling in his stomach that he was forced to be there again, but this time without you. 

And on the first day of what ended up being his final senior year, Jason and his gang were in the same grade and opted to fuel their egos through Eddie’s torment, making him their own personal punching bag whenever they needed to blow off some steam. It worked in their favour, not having you around, but you still knew what went on when you would show up to Eddie’s trailer on a Friday night and he opened the door with a bag of peas pressed against his cheek. 

He never took the bullying well, at least not behind closed doors. And after attempting to fight back and being pummelled into the ground for a fourth time, earning himself a concussion, Eddie stopped defending himself.

They were stronger than him. So he let the jocks take what they needed without really blinking an eye, and he got off a little easier for it. 

When he showed up to school with a black eye or a fat lip, he acted like it didn’t exist. No matter the judgemental looks he received from his teachers or the worried ones from his friends. But he struggled with the embarrassment he felt for himself, that teenagers were the ones overpowering him.

It was something he eventually confided in you with when he broke down over the phone one night the week after Christmas break. 

They made him feel weak, immature, and downright stupid each time he was forced to clean up his nose in the school bathroom before Hellfire or see the look on his uncle’s face when he came home with another shiner. 

But now, he’s graduating. 

Third time’s a charm, he had said to you the night before the first day of class, and had been more determined than ever to get it right this time. 

And he did. 

But he still isn’t so lucky to believe that he could’ve gone the entire day without running into Jason. 

“Look-” Eddie mutters, his jaw tightening. “I’m not fighting you. So just let it go, man,” he says, stooping low enough to practically plead for his own mercy today. 

Wayne is here, waiting for him in the stands with the rest of the parents and families, and you’re bound to walk out of the school at any minute, looking for him. 

“Shut up. You’re a piece of shit, Munson,” Jason spits, his nose close to brushing against Eddie’s with how close he’s standing. “I think I deserve one last hurrah, don’t I?” he breathes through a smile that makes Eddie’s stomach turn. “To show everyone here you’re just some weak and pathetic satanist that can’t even bother defending himself?” 

“Jason- just wait… at least until after the ceremony, man, please-” 

“You’re the last person here who deserves to walk across that stage today. You can go ahead and show your girl how fucking pathetic you are.” 

Eddie manages to keep a straight face despite that comment feeling more painful than the fist that Jason throws across his face. His knuckles collide with the top of his cheek bone and skim across his nose with a soft cracking sound, springing tears to his eyes. 

Warmth immediately spills from Eddie’s nose and before he can turn his head back to face his abuser, a glob of spit lands directly on his cheek that makes him wince. 

“I truly wish you all of the best,” Jason says when he drops his hold around Eddie’s collar and takes a step back. “Lord knows you’ll be spending the rest of your life slinging drugs in alleyways until the chief finally locks you up for good.” 

Eddie glances at Jason who grins as he walks backwards, knocking his fist against Andy’s. 

“See you up there, yeah?” Jason points behind him to the football field where the ceremony is taking place. He sucks his tongue against his teeth before spinning on his heel and making his way back around the front of the school where everyone is starting to line up. 

Blood seeps between Eddie’s lips and he spits it onto the ground, lifting his arm to wipe off the saliva on his cheek with his sleeve. 

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, bringing his hand to his nose and glancing at his fingers to see them coated bright red. 

Your eyes flicker up to the clock above the doors, letting out a quiet sigh when Eddie still hasn’t shown. You cross your arms over your chest and rest your head on the wall, silently hoping he didn’t bail at the last minute since you had to convince him to come to this thing in the first place. 

It’s only when you spot Jason and Andy walking past the front doors, laughing about something that you feel your stomach drop. Jason pulls a cigar from the pocket of his gown and you spot the blotchy red skin covering his knuckles. 

“Shit,” you breathe, pushing the door open and stepping outside, rushing around the building to where Eddie’s van is parked. 

The back doors are open wide, facing the forest where he backed in when he arrived and there’s a wet, red stain painting the road next to his passenger side door. You press your lips together, your heart rising into your throat. 

Eddie is sitting in the back of the van, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and a tissue soaked in blood pressed against his nose. Broken blood vessels are painting the skin under his eye, turning a deep shade of red as it swells.

“Eddie…” you gasp, shoulders falling as you spot the two tissues he’s already discarded.

His head lifts up when you reach down to pick up his graduation cap off the ground where he dropped it, brushing it clean with your hand. 

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, voice nasally as he holds the tissue tightly to his nose. 

You glance towards the school, aware that the students are starting to line up. If Eddie doesn’t get there in time, he won’t be walking the stage. 

Climbing into his van on your knees, you set his cap to the side and grab a few more tissues from the box he keeps in the back. 

“Let me see,” you say, pulling out the water bottle you brought in your bag for the long day, dampening one of the tissues. 

Eddie turns to you and carefully lowers the maroon coloured tissue from his nose. Your eyes dart across his features and threaten to fill with tears, drops of red staining the green and orange stole that sits around his neck. 

Blood seeps slowly from one of his nostrils and you bring the tissue to his upper lip, carefully cleaning away the drying blood that’s smeared there. “Does it hurt?” 

“It’s not broken,” he says, voice quiet and although he didn’t answer your question, you don’t push. When your finger grazes over the side of his nose, he hisses, pulling away and lifting his hand to your wrist. “Fuck- stop. I’ll do it.” 

You frown, sitting back on your heels. “We don’t have time. You need to stop the bleeding, everyone is lining up already.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“What doesn’t?” 

He shakes his head, letting your arm go and plucking a fresh tissue to hold under his dripping nose. “I’m not walking that fucking stage,” he mutters, and you don’t miss the sheen of saltwater that spills across his vision before he looks down at the pavement. “Not like this. Not when Wayne is here… he-” his breath catches in his throat and his jaw tightens, “-it’s humiliating.” 

A lump forms in your throat that you swallow down, lifting your hand to his chin and turning him back to face you. You keep a gentle grip on his face as you wipe up the remainder of blood on his face, which he doesn’t fight you on. 

“I didn’t even fucking do anything this time, I barely said a word but he needed to get one last punch in,” he continues, blinking quickly in an attempt to clear his bleary eyes. “But he got what he wanted. I’m not going up there. I shouldn’t even be getting this diploma.” 

You pause at his words, lifting your eyes to his which are averted down to your thighs. “Did Jason say that to you?” 

“Does it matter?” 

He lifts a hand to rub at his uninjured eye and you notice the blood staining his fingers, dropping the dirtied tissue to the side and wetting a new one. He looks at you when you take his hand into your lap, chin tilted down to your chest as you clean up his skin. 

“You deserve to graduate more than anyone here, Eddie,” you start, his brows twitching down at the conviction in your voice. “And you’re going to walk across that stage today and snatch that god damn diploma out of Principal Higgins hand, give him the bird, and celebrate the fact that you’re finally getting the hell out of here.” 

You raise your eyes to meet his, noticing that his nose has almost stopped bleeding. 

“This shit doesn’t make you weak,” you quietly continue, tilting his chin up to wipe up the blood sitting in his nose. “And Wayne isn’t going to think you are. Especially not if you go up there without caring about what any of those assholes think about you. They may be physically stronger than you, but they have nothing over you, Eddie. You’re already so much more than they will ever be.” 

He’s quiet when you drop your hand from his chin and ball up the tissues in your hand to throw away later. His rings clink together as he curls his hand into a fist before flexing his fingers outward and back again, a nervous habit he developed a few years ago. 

“You proved everyone wrong this year. And you’re graduating today. You finished high school.” 

Despite the gnarly bruise that’s forming beneath his eye and the blood on his gown, he still looks just as beautiful as he did this morning when his lips curl up in a shy smirk, and he lifts his eyes to yours. 

“Fuck Jason and his friends, you’re not going to see them again after today. And this day is for you. No one else,” you say, lifting your hands to rest on his cheeks, smoothing your thumbs over his skin to collect any tears lingering there. “Got it?” 

He lets out a soft chuckle, sniffling and wincing slightly at the taste of blood in his throat. “Yeah, sweetheart. I got it.” 

“Good. Now… just try not to touch your nose for a while. It stopped bleeding for now but you might like… rip something open again if you do anything,” you murmur, eyeing his nose carefully. “Do you want me to break into the nurse’s office and find an ice pack for your eye?” 

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” he replies despite the throbbing pain in his face. “But, are you really going to make me walk out there with blood on my gown?” he says in jest although he knows that it’ll only solidify his standing as the ‘freak of Hawkins High’ until he walks off of that stage and doesn’t look back. 

“You might need to avoid Mrs. Click after the ceremony or she’ll make you pay for it, but-” 

You’re cut off by Eddie’s lips eagerly meeting yours, muffling the noise of surprise you make. He rests his hand against the side of your neck, forcing himself to stop from melting into a puddle on the pavement from the way you slide your fingers into his hair, the sweet lip gloss you’re wearing smearing against his lips.

His nose brushes your cheek and forces him to pull back from the sting, his lips glossy and pupils wide when your eyes flutter back open. 

“What was that for?” you giggle quietly as he slips his tongue out over his bottom lip to taste the gloss on his mouth and presses his fingers into the side of your thigh. 

“I’m happy you’re here,” he breathes, sniffling softly. “I still wish that we would’ve been graduating together- but you’re here, and I couldn’t do this shit without you.” 

You smile, giving him another quick kiss before swiping away some of the lip gloss on his bottom lip. “Don’t get all sappy on me already. You’re not allowed to make me cry until the ceremony.” 

He chuckles with the shake of his head, tilting his head down to glance at his watch. His face falls slightly as he sighs. “I should get going.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to find you some ice? It’s going to be a while before your name is called.” 

He shakes his head as you take in the swelling skin below his eye, knowing that his appearance is going to end up shocking some of the parents there today when he gets his diploma. Not that he cares about them. 

“I’m sure,” he cements and you give him a small, unsure frown. “I don’t want you worrying about me- I swear I’m good.” 

“Fine,” you mumble. “But I have some tylenol that you should take.” Pulling out a couple of capsules from your bag, you drop them into his hand and he swallows them down with the water you brought. “And bring your sunglasses. It’s sunny.” 

You have no doubt that he is going to wind up with a headache by the end of the day, more sensitive to sunlight ever since his head got slammed into the ground by one of Jason’s friends after Eddie threw a punch that busted their lip open a week before Halloween last year.

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie murmurs and you roll your eyes, leaning into the kiss he presses to your cheek before plucking his sunglasses off of the floor of his van and sliding them onto his nose. 

He grabs his graduation cap before getting up and pulling you up with him. “I’ll be in the stands with Wayne, but if you need anything-” 

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” he assures you, tugging you into his chest for one last hug before he locks his van and leaves you to go sit under the sweltering sun for the next hour. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you mumble, kissing him again before stepping back and nudging him towards the school. “Now go!” 

He smirks, walking backward and giving you a two-fingered salute before spinning on his heel and sauntering off across the parking lot. 

You make your way back over to the football field, spotting Wayne at the end of one of the rows, saving a seat for you next to Dustin who Eddie had no idea was here. They had become pretty good friends over the school year and Dustin was the reason Eddie had started getting passionate about his Hellfire campaigns again after the slump he went through when school first began. 

And, Dustin practically begged you to let him come today, although you never thought of turning him down when he asked the first time, knowing Eddie would appreciate having him here even if he denied it.

Climbing the steps, you give Wayne a small smile before sliding past him to sit down, Dustin immediately holding out a bag of trail mix for you. “Thank you,” you mumble, plucking some from the bag to munch on. 

The graduates are slowly filling into the seats but you can’t see Eddie yet. 

“Hey,” you say suddenly, turning to Dustin. “Could you do me a favour?” 

“Uh, depends what it is,” he mumbles through the food in his mouth. 

“I need you to sneak into the school and find Eddie an ice pack and some water,” you reply and he looks at you with the raise of his brows high on his forehead. “And you’ll need to get it to him during all the blabbering-” You wave your hand towards the stage where the teachers are quietly conversing to each other. “Please?” 

Dustin glances towards the school. “What happened?” 

“What do you think?” you mutter quietly and he frowns, turning to you. 

“Alright,” he sighs, shoving the bag of trail mix into your hand. “But if I get caught, you owe me big. And I mean big.” 

“Deal.” 

With a pause of hesitation, Dustin sighs before standing up and making his way down the stairs, disappearing behind the stands. Wayne clears his throat and you glance at him. 

“He has a black eye,” you say unpromptedly and he blinks at you. “But he’s fine... I made sure.” 

He doesn’t reply, flickering his gaze towards where the students are walking into the field, his lips pursing softly in disappointment. 

“Dustin’s finding him some ice, and I gave him painkillers so he’ll make it through the ceremony without any issue. And this is… well hopefully, the last time he’ll ever deal with this,” you quietly continue and Wayne nods, keeping his eyes on the teenagers when he finally speaks up. 

“Who did it?” he asks, nodding towards the group and you glance over, seeing that most of the first few rows are filled in, but Jason happens to be standing at the side of the stage, talking to his coach and tilting his head back with a loud laugh. 

“Kid beside the stage… It’s been him and some of his friends.” 

Shaking his head, he sighs and sits back, hands clasping the edge of the seat beneath him. “Well… thank you. For always making sure he’s okay.” 

“Of course,” you shrug like it’s nothing and it makes Wayne smile as he plucks the program off of the seat and flips through it to pass the time. 

When you finally spot Eddie making his way onto the field, his sunglasses are still perched on his nose and his graduation cap sits snugly on his head, flattening some of his curls. His head turns towards the bleachers and you can tell the exact moment he spots you, a grin spreading on his lips before he eagerly waves to you. 

You smile, waving back and nudging his uncle’s leg with your knee to get his attention. He spots Eddie and lifts his hand in a wave, smiling softly as he follows the line into the next row of chairs stationed on the grass and sits down, his back facing you. 

You’re glad he’s in good spirits after what happened and can only hope that the rest of the day goes smoothly. 

About ten minutes later, while Principal Higgins is in the middle of his speech, you spot quiet commotion coming from the side of the field. Dustin is pulling his arm away from one of the teachers standing by the exit, a bottle of water and a plastic bag filled with ice clutched in his hands. 

He manages to get out of her grip and runs towards the plastic chairs, catching the attention of almost everyone in the stands as he slides into the row that Eddie is in with his lips moving in what you can only assume to be quiet apologies to the people he passes. He stops halfway through the row and shoves the items into Eddie’s lap without a word before turning around and hurrying out of there. 

A teacher is making her way over to him but he immediately darts around the rows of chairs and back over to where you’re sitting, his feet slamming loudly against the metal stairs as he climbs them. He hurriedly squeezes past you and Wayne and sits down with a heavy sigh, panting to catch his breath. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” he huffs and you ignore the glances of both parents and students in favour of finding Eddie in the crowd, his body twisted in his seat and sunglasses in his hand. 

He raises an eyebrow at you and you just smile, shrugging your shoulders to your ears. His tongue pokes into his cheek and a smile tugs at his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. You pucker your lips and press your fingers to them before blowing him a kiss, his cheeks turning a visible shade of pink. 

With his sunglasses off you can see that his eye is now a deep shade of purple, and you’re glad you didn’t listen to him about the ice, knowing he’ll be grateful he has it if he needs it.

He turns around in his seat and you can feel another pair of eyes on you, lifting your gaze towards the second row of students where Jason has his head turned, eyes narrowing in your direction. 

You lift your hand and wiggle your fingers at him before promptly sticking out your tongue, making his jaw tick in annoyance. He rolls his eyes and slumps into his chair as he looks back towards the stage and you smile in satisfaction, dropping your chin to rest in your hand. 

You, Dustin, and Wayne spend the next little while finishing off the bag of trail mix and keeping as hydrated as possible in the heat, and you silently envy the parents who brought umbrellas to shade themselves from the unrelenting sun as you fold up your program into an accordion to fan yourself with.

The ceremony doesn’t drag on as much as you anticipated it would, already on the L’s after forty-five minutes, but Dustin is keeping himself occupied with the copy of Lord of the Rings he had borrowed from Eddie, who checked it out of the school library two years ago and dodged enough late fees until the librarian reluctantly ordered a new copy in replacement. 

None of you are planning to stick around once Eddie gets his diploma, knowing that the last thing he would want is to be forced to sit here for the next hour or two until the end of the ceremony. And there’s currently an ice cream cake sitting in Wayne’s freezer that Eddie doesn’t know about, but that you’re dying to dig into after sitting in the sun all morning. 

Wayne wipes a bead of sweat off of his temple with the back of his hand and you trade programs with him so that he can use your makeshift fan, flipping through his pristine one until you find the list of names. There’s only five people in front of Eddie and you glance up to see that his row is lining up at the side of the stage. 

His water and ice were promptly discarded onto his seat before he stood up which you’re unsurprised by, happy nonetheless that he keeps his sunglasses perched over his eyes until the first M name is called out. Eddie tugs his glasses off and shoves them into the pocket of his gown, his eye visibly black and blue even from where you’re sitting. 

Of course, this being his last day ever at Hawkins High, he’s going out with a bang. Although, you don’t miss the way he starts to fiddle with the rings on his fingers, toeing at the ground with nerves the closer he gets to the stage. 

Wayne glances at you when you pull your camera from your bag, turning it on and tugging your bag back over your shoulder. “I’ll get a photo of him. Just enjoy this,” you say when you catch his eye and he quietly clears his throat, nodding as he looks towards the stage again. 

You stand up and make your way out of the stands, careful not to trip over your feet on the steep stairs before walking closer to the side of the stage Eddie will be leaving from. Fiddling with your camera, you spot him on the other end, gripping the railing tightly as the student in front of him grabs his diploma and shakes Principal Higgins hand. 

“Edward Waylon Munson,” Mr. Kaminski drones from his place at the podium and there’s scattered applause as Eddie hops up onto the stage with his signature smirk on his face. 

You can’t help the tears that well up in your eyes as you lift your camera to your eye. Principal Higgings barely holds out the diploma before Eddie grabs it from his hand with a mocking bow. He turns to walk backwards for a few steps and lifts his middle finger into the air, letting out a loud “whoo!” that makes a few parents in the audience jump. 

He is a sight to see with his frizzy curls poofing out from underneath his graduation cap and the violent bruise painting his cheek, but no one would have a clue that he was ever bothered by his injuries.

You’re not surprised when Eddie’s eyes snap to a section in the front row, hearing a quiet yell from Jason that you can’t understand but which makes your jaw tick in frustration. Eddie merely tilts his head to the side and lifts his hands up near his head, poking his fingers up and sticking his tongue out with a crazed look in his eye.

A few gasps erupt from the bleachers and Eddie’s face falls into an amused smirk as he lowers his hands back to his sides.

Snapping a few pictures, you hear Dustin cheering loudly from the stands next to Wayne and there’s a few others from the crowd that you recognize as Robin and Nancy, both who are in the same graduating class, Eddie’s bandmates, Mike, and Steve who you spotted in the bleachers when you first arrived. 

Higgins and the other teachers roll their eyes, grumbling nonsense under their breaths, but Eddie just smiles, giving a two-fingered salute to Dustin and Wayne. 

A lump settles at the base of your throat with your emotion, happy that despite all the people who had no problem voicing their negative opinion about him over the years, and particularly this past school year, that he still did make a couple of friends that were actually happy he was able to finally get his diploma.

There’s a soft pink hue ghosting across Eddie’s unmarred cheek that you’re pretty sure is from the handful of genuine cheers he received that he never expected, but you know if you mention it, he’ll blame it on the sun. 

He tugs his tassel to the side and practically skips down the steps onto the grass as you shove your camera back into your bag and find his eyes with a beaming smile on your face. You hurry to meet him halfway, leaping into his arms with your legs wrapping around his hips and arms latching onto his shoulders. 

Neither of you care about the eyes of anyone in the crowd as you hug him tightly. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Eddie Munson,” you say with so much conviction that his eyes threaten to water as he buries his head in your neck. “You did it!” 

You pull away, planting your hands on his cheeks and your lips on his. It’s hard to kiss him with your smile and you pull back when he groans.

“Careful of the eye, sweetheart,” he murmurs through a grin and you giggle an apology, sliding your hand to the back of his neck and kissing him again. 

He sets you back down on the ground a few seconds later, keeping his lips on yours with a content hum vibrating his chest, only stopping when you hear Dustin’s voice. 

“Get a room.” 

Eddie smiles, pulling away from you and glancing up to see Dustin and Wayne walking over to you. You step to the side and notice the slight shift in Eddie’s expression when he sees his uncle’s glossy eyes. 

You fumble to pull your camera back out of your bag as Wayne clasps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, shaking his head as he takes in the bruise on his cheek. “Christ boy,” he mutters. “That’s one hell of a way to go, isn’t it?” he jokes, making Eddie laugh before pulling him into a hug.

It’s hard to decipher any of the words they exchange as you snap a photo of the sweet moment, Eddie pulling back with a wobbly lip before he sniffles and glances down to his feet, letting out a soft laugh when Wayne pats a heavy hand on his back. 

“Know I’m proud of you kid,” Wayne mutters and Eddie wipes at his eyes with his sleeve with a quick nod. 

The sweet moment ends abruptly when Dustin walks up to him and throws his arms around his shoulders, making Eddie stiffen slightly. 

“I knew you could fucking do it, Eddie-” he starts and Eddie gives him a brief pat on the back before squirming out of his hold, Dustin ducking before he can put him in a headlock. “You’re gonna let me use the throne now, right?” 

“Considering none of those other guys take it seriously enough… Yeah, it’s yours man.” 

You smile when Dustin pumps his fist into the air with a whispered “yes” and continues babbling about his campaign ideas as the four of you walk towards the parking lot. 

Luckily Eddie’s friends walked the stage before him, so he isn’t missing out on anything, leaving early. He throws his sunglasses back on and waits until you’re at his side to slide his hand into yours, lightly bumping his hip against your side.

“You have to keep hosting campaigns, you’re the best Dungeon Master there is!” Dustin exclaims with wide eyes as you step off the grass and onto the asphalt, turning to walk backwards so he can look at Eddie. “I have so many things I still need to show you, and you have to help me with my own games now, and-” 

“Dude, relax,” Eddie cuts him off. “I’m not giving up DM that easily. You’re taking the reins here-” he points to the school. “But I’ll still host campaigns, I just have to work out the details first.” 

Dustin’s shoulders slump in relief and you notice the tiniest hint of a smile on Eddie’s face once he turns back around. 

Wayne is parked a couple cars down from the van and you stop in the middle to part ways, Eddie lifting his foot to nudge at Dustin’s leg.

“Thanks for coming, man. Means a lot,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Dustin frowns. “Obviously. We’re all going to your house.” 

You roll your eyes with a small sigh, not knowing why you ever trusted Dustin to keep even part of a secret to himself. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows, glancing from Wayne to you and you give him a small smile, shrugging your shoulders.

“Come on,” you start, hooking your arm into his and tugging him towards his van. “Let’s go before someone says too much.”

“You got something planned?” he asks with a teasing smirk before his face falls slightly and he tugs you back. “But wait, can we stop for milkshakes or something? I’m sweating my ass off.” 

“Don’t you need to go and return that gown before you go anywhere?” Wayne pipes up from behind him and Eddie spins on his heel, plucking at the fabric covering his chest. 

“Not unless I wanna give ‘em any amount of money for this,” he says, grimacing down at the blood, now stained a murky shade of brown against the fabric. “They can’t do shit about it once I’m gone.” 

“If you say so,” Wayne grumbles, rounding the bed of his truck to get into the driver’s seat as Dustin climbs in on the other side. 

“We don’t need to stop for milkshakes,” you say and Eddie looks back at you with his bottom lip jutting out. 

“Hey-” Wayne suddenly calls from over the top of his truck and Eddie turns back. “Don’t get any more speeding tickets, alright? ‘Cause I’m not paying for them anymore. You’re finished high school, so you’re not getting away with that shit as easily,” he scolds with a pointed look towards his nephew, but you can see the glimmer of pride in his gaze. 

Eddie doesn’t reply but gives him a thumbs up before turning to you and curling his arm around your shoulders.

“So… why are you denying a graduate his milkshake? You know I’m driving right, so you don’t really have the ultimate say-” 

“It’s a surprise!” you cut him off and he laughs, walking with you to the side of his van.

“One sec,” he quips before he’s ripping the stole off over his head and hastily unzipping the gown with a relieved sigh when the slight breeze in the air flits across his skin. 

Your eyes trail down to what he’s wearing underneath, which you did see before he picked up his gown this morning, but it had somehow slipped your mind. 

His favourite ripped black jeans are sitting on his hips, lacking their usual jewelry in place of an old leather belt that has a faded silver buckle of a skull resting just below his navel. A fitted, black singlet tank top hugs his lean figure, tucked into his jeans and showing off his arms which are slightly more defined than usual with the push-ups he started doing a few weeks ago. 

He pushes the gown off of his shoulders, letting the fabric drop to the ground and your eyes drag over the recent additions on his arms from over the last year, the dark ink prominent across his pale skin. 

When he turns to pick up the discarded gown, you notice the sheen of sweat coating his heated skin, glimmering under the summer sun and matting down the subtle peek of hair you glimpse under his arm.

Eddie turns his head to look at you and a smirk lifts to his face when he watches your lips part as your eyes dart over his figure. 

“Baby?” he drags on slowly, standing up straight and tilting his head to the side. 

Your eyes snap back up to his face, cheeks growing flush. “What?” 

His eyes crinkle softly as he laughs, pulling open the door to his van and chucking his cap and gown behind the front seat with the fake diploma, the real one being sent through the mail in the coming weeks. 

“See something you like?” he teases before lifting himself onto his toes and turning his back to you, whipping his head over his shoulder with a much too-forced smoulder that makes you giggle. “Doesn’t this deserve a milkshake?” 

“No, Eddie!” you laugh, nudging him to get inside the van. “There’s something better at your house. Promise.” 

“Oh yeah?” He arches his brow at you, perching himself on the edge of the driver’s seat, and you nod. “Consider me intrigued.” 

He pulls you in for a kiss by the back of your neck, moaning quietly at the taste of your lip gloss before patting the back of your thigh and telling you to get in the van. 

The drive back to his trailer is filled with blaring music combined with Eddie’s screams as he sings along, batting his hands against the steering wheel and bopping his head enough that his hair sticks to his cheeks, damp from the heat. There’s a wide smile on his face for almost the entire drive and you watch him and his happiness, recognizing how much more relaxed he already seems, the further away from the school you get. 

The air conditioning in his van busted yesterday and he hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet, so you’re sweating in places you didn’t even know could sweat, but nothing could have stumped your happiness in that moment, knowing that he’s finally free of all of the shit that’s been holding him back for so many years. 

He reaches over to turn down the music when he pulls into the trailer park, having been scolded more than once by his elderly neighbour for the noise. He has a soft spot for her though, shovelling her walk in the winter in exchange for a cup of cocoa, or scrubbing her car clean in the summertime for a lemonade, like he’s done for the last handful of years. 

You take your seatbelt off before he’s even put the van into park next to Wayne’s truck, twisting around to grab his graduation cap, smoothing the tassel out between your fingers. He watches you, shutting off the van and dipping his chin when you lean forward to secure the cap over his curls again. 

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, nose twitching when the tassel tickles his skin. 

“Can you keep it on for a little bit?” 

“Why?” He lifts his head and you push the tassel to the side of the cap, smiling at him. 

“Because, I’m proud of you and you look really cute wearing it.” 

His features briefly twist in annoyance as he groans, but you catch the faint smile that quivers at the corner of his lips. “Fine. But it’s coming off as soon as you’re done taking all your little photos.” 

With that, you both get out and Eddie sighs in relief from no longer being in the hot, humid air inside of his van. He lingers in the subtle breeze, tipping his chin up towards the sky with his eyes falling closed and you take the opportunity to snap another picture of him, his head turning to you when he hears your camera. 

You smile at him, shoving it back into your bag and holding your hand out. “Come on, I’m dying out here.” 

He grins at you, looking like an excited little boy as he strides over to take your hand and follow you eagerly up the stairs and into the trailer. 

“We’re home!” Eddie bellows, the screen door loudly slamming shut behind him. “There better be a damn good reason why I couldn’t buy myself a shake-” 

He pauses, taking in the sight of the four boys sitting in the living room, talking each other’s ears off about some movie you haven’t seen. Your shoulders fall in relief that his bandmates made it to the trailer before you did, knowing they only left the ceremony as soon as Eddie walked off of the stage. 

There’s a shiny foil banner hung above the television, reading “Happy Graduation!” and a few balloons scattered around the room; the most you were able to do in the short time you had the trailer to yourself this morning when Wayne took Eddie out for breakfast.

No one even glances up at Eddie’s voice, too engrossed in their conversation and you press your lips together with a disappointed roll of your eyes, having initially planned that they would all surprise Eddie as soon as the two of you walked through the door. Not even Dustin looks up, rambling to Gareth. 

“Surprise?” you say timidly, looking up at Eddie to see a crease between his brows, an unreadable expression on his face. 

His eyes snap down to yours when he hears your voice and his face softens. “You planned this?” 

You nod. “I know it isn’t a big… party or anything, and if you want, I’m sure we can head over to Steve’s a little later to see everyone else but I just thought-” 

You end up cutting yourself off with a quiet ‘oof’ when Eddie crushes you in a hug, almost knocking you straight onto the floor with the force, if only his arms weren’t holding you tightly against his chest. 

“You’re incredible,” Eddie breathes into your neck, pressing his face there despite the pain radiating in his cheekbone. “I don’t care about a party… this is all I wanted- even more than I thought I did,” he says before pulling back and placing his hands on the sides of your neck. “Shit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks and glancing at the party banner on the wall. “I was so happy just to come back here with you and Wayne.” 

“I still thought it would be a little bit more than this,” you say in quiet frustration, motioning to the boys in the living room who still haven’t acknowledged either of you. “They were at least supposed to say ‘surprise.’” 

The smile on his face only grows before he’s pushing at your shoulders until your back hits the wall, his lips promptly smearing against yours. His kiss is rough and a little uncoordinated but it only lasts for a couple of seconds, Eddie pulling back when you hear a familiar, low clearing of a throat. 

Wayne stands with his hip resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Should I barbecue tonight, or do you want to go out again?” he asks, rubbing his fingers over the scruff on his chin and Eddie’s face drops into a sarcastic scowl. 

“Do you have to ask?” he accuses and Wayne grumbles something under his breath before turning to go back into the kitchen, waving a dismissive hand. 

“You’re helping me grill then,” Wayne calls and Eddie gives him a salute that he doesn’t see, turning back to you. 

“This is still a surprise, baby,” he reassures your previous comment, tilting his head towards the living room. “But if you think you’re ever gonna pull them away from talking about Day of the Dead, you’re so wrong,” he drags out his words, voice dropping into a low hum. 

You laugh, his hands squeezing at your hips before he plants another kiss onto your lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs and you smile, dipping your chin to rest your forehead on his. 

“You’re welcome… Are you happy?” 

“So fuckin’ happy,” he whispers, eyes glimmering in delight and you think today might just be the day that those brown eyes officially make your heart burst into pieces. 

“Can I show you why we didn’t stop for shakes now? Maybe we can actually all cool off,” you ask and he nods quickly, the tassel on his cap wiggling with the movement. 

Wayne is pouring sodas for everyone into solo cups when you walk into the kitchen, two beers dripping in condensation sitting on the counter and Eddie slips one into his hand, taking a swig of it. He keeps his hand on your hip as you pull open the door to the freezer, the icy air coming out in visible clouds and chilling your skin. 

You feel his chin come down to rest on the top of your head while you grab the ice cream cake and slip out of his grip to set it on the counter.

His eyes widen when he sees it, blindly shutting the freezer and standing next to you with his jaw falling open in surprise. 

It’s a simple sheet cake with white icing covering the entire thing, black piping around the edges and the demon from his Hellfire logo iced onto the centre in gel next to a dark green graduation cap, matching the one sitting on his head. 

The words at the top of the cake read, 'Graduating Munson of ‘86,' with a cursive, 'Congratulations!' piped below the demon’s head. 

Eddie cackles at the message on the cake as you pop off the frosty lid and set it to the side. 

“Holy shit, this is amazing,” he beams, sliding his hands around your waist to pull you into his chest. “You do this?” 

“Maybe… I placed the order anyway,” you reply, smiling when he tightens his arms around you. “Wayne came up with the writing though.” 

“Well we’re not celebrating the whole bloody class of ‘86, ‘side from your boys,” Wayne mumbles from his place near the sink, nodding towards the living room. 

“Is it chocolate inside?” Eddie asks, lips brushing your ear. 

“Duh.” 

His hand lifts up, eager to swipe off some of the icing on the side of the cake. 

“Ah!” You lightly slap his hand away. “You’ll get your piece. But don’t you want a picture before you dig into it?” 

“Hell yeah,” he agrees and moves around you to pick up the cake carefully in his hands while you bring your camera back out. 

He smiles widely at you and you lift your camera to your eye. “Say ‘happy graduation!’” 

The camera goes off but you instruct him to take another one and he pretends to pose just to humour you before he leans down and takes a big bite off the corner of the cake, smearing his face and nose with black and white icing as soon as the shutter goes off. 

“Eddie!” Your jaw drops as you lower the camera and he looks at you innocently, chewing down the cake and ice cream in his mouth. “That’s going to stain your face.” 

Wayne chuckles as Eddie’s face falls and he puts the cake down, sticking his tongue out to try and lick up the black icing on his upper lip. His uncle tosses a wet kitchen towel at his face as you move to start cutting up the cake. 

“Better?” Eddie asks after a few seconds and you glance at him to see a small stripe of black still staining the side of his top lip and darkening the stubble he has there. 

“Sure.” You smile and he frowns, poking a finger into your side. 

When the cake is cut and distributed onto paper plates, Wayne calls the boys to grab their food and Eddie saunters into the living room with his arm curled around a bowl of chips, beer in hand. He drops down onto the sofa with a happy sigh, setting the bowl onto the coffee table and patting the cushion for you to sit next to him, grabbing the plate you made up for him with his already-bitten cake.

The next hour flies by with the boys greedy in their helpings of cake, and you eventually wind up curled against Eddie’s side and holding a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a dish towel to his cheek after he mentioned how badly it was starting to sting. 

He has your legs pulled over his, one hand curled around your thigh with the other gesturing animatedly at his side as he talks about the new setlist he wants his band to try the next time they book a gig, since The Hideout is currently closed down for some much needed renovations. 

It used to make you a little uncomfortable, joining in on hangouts like this with Eddie where you were the only girl in the room. But despite the people he deals to, or the ones that have a sour taste in their mouth whenever they so much as glance in his direction, Eddie generally surrounds himself with good people. 

He has a habit of latching onto anyone that shows him any ounce of kindness, and was eventually left with the very few that never once got sick of him.

His friends are some of the most respectful you’ve ever met, treating you as any other member of the group aside from the occasional wrestling, headlocks, and crude pranks that they play on each other. 

You’re also lucky that Wayne has always been so easygoing with your relationship with his nephew, so long as you stuck to keeping things strictly PG when people were around: a rule he demanded after having caught the two of you fooling around on the sofa one night when he came home from work early with a cold, the very first year that you had started dating. 

You’re happy in a room with the people that Eddie loves the most and he’s overjoyed that you’ve found your place so seamlessly within the group, even if you occasionally slip away to spend some much needed time with Robin or Nancy. 

The frozen peas eventually get too warm to do much of anything, but Eddie insists that they helped anyway, lightly prodding at his bruised cheekbone to feel how cold his skin is. Wayne takes the bag from you when he heads back into the kitchen to start prepping dinner and Eddie grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips to press a light kiss there. 

He keeps his hand tucked into yours and turns to join in on the conversation about D&D, specifically, the new characters they were working on, started up by Dustin. 

Without thinking about it, he tugs the graduation cap off of his head when it starts to feel too tight and your lip juts out in a small pout, catching his attention. 

“Sorry, baby. But it’s gonna give me a headache soon,” he says, smoothing down his already flattened curls. “Here-” he twists to face you better and lifts the cap to set on your head, tucking it down over your hair. 

“You’ve already seen me in this, Eds,” you mumble in resignation, not fighting him when his eyes brighten at the sight of you in his graduation cap. 

“Yeah but you look hot in it.” He shrugs, nudging his finger against the tassel before dropping his hands onto your thighs. 

Your cheeks feel hot at the compliment and you bite back your smile, dropping your head to rest on his shoulder. 

Both of you briefly forget about the stiff piece of cardboard stitched into the top of the cap, the corner of it jabbing Eddie in the neck and making him yelp. 

“Oh my god.” You whip your head up and he bursts into a laugh. “I’m so sorry!” 

You press your hand to the red mark already forming on his pale skin, his shoulders shaking softly as he chuckles. 

“I should’ve seen that one coming. You and Carver really know where my weak spots are,” he teasingly prods and your frown only deepens. 

“Don’t compare me to Jason,” you mumble, his face falling at the joke he didn’t realize was a little too far. Your thumb brushes gingerly over the freshly marred skin near his collarbone and he lets out a quiet sigh at the delicate touch. “You know I didn’t do that on purpose-” you start to defend yourself but he grabs your hands to tangle them together with his. 

“I know- hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what I was saying.” He feels awful at the genuine sadness now painted across your features. “Was super shitty of me to say.” 

“I still hate what he did today,” you admit, eyes lifting to his bruise. 

“I know,” he murmurs against the back of your hands, his eyes rounding out in apology. “Forgive me?” he softly pleads, kissing your knuckles and you give him a weak nod. 

You absolutely hate the reminder of what that piece of shit did to him, but you know that his words slipped out without thought with no intentional malice behind them. He had also mentioned to you when he pulled out of the school’s parking lot that this wound up being the first time he ended up not caring so much about what Jason did - once you talked him down at least - knowing now that the chances of ever running into him and his friends again are truly slim to none.

“Thank you,” he says through a sigh and lifts his head. “Can I have a kiss?” 

Leaning forward, he merely pulls back and the crease between your brows deepens until he taps against the side of his neck. The corners of your lips turn up and you pull his cap off of your head, tilting your chin forward to press one soft kiss to his skin. 

He finds your lips with his own when you sit back, resting his hand on your jaw. He lingers on you for a few seconds before pulling back, the tip of his nose brushing yours. 

“You kissed me better… did it work with you?” he wonders, dark eyes flickering back and forth between yours and you have to pull your lips to the side to hide your smile. 

There is a part of you that would love nothing more than to tease him more than you’re currently capable of with the presence of his friends in the room, but you just shake your head. His brow arches in surprise. 

“No? How many do you need?” 

You shrug and his eyes narrow at you before he starts counting up from one. Shaking your head with every number he says, you deny him satisfaction only until he reaches five. 

“Five it is,” he murmurs, creeping his fingers over your collarbone before he wraps his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you forward. 

It’s hard to kiss with the smiles lifting onto both of your faces and you laugh when he accidentally kisses your teeth. The five consecutive pecks are fast and noisy each time your lips part from each other, and you pull your bottom one between your teeth after the fifth one as Eddie trails his kisses up and over your cheek until you giggle, pulling away from his grasp. 

“Worked like a charm,” he hums, laughing softly into your hair and catching Dustin’s disgusted gaze over the top of your head. 

“Are you guys done?” he asks and has to duck behind the coffee table when Eddie immediately chucks a throw pillow at his head. 

“Fuck off!” Dustin yells, throwing it back and Eddie dodges it as it flies past his head. 

“Watch it! I’m damaged goods, Henderson.” 

“You’re damaged something alright,” Dustin mutters under his breath and you press your lips together, not surprised when Eddie’s eyes narrow and he carefully pushes your legs off of his lap. 

“You wanna say that to my face like a man?” Eddie taunts, a menacing smirk on his face as Dustin’s eyes briefly widen but he hides it with a forced clearing of his throat, pushing his fingers through his hair. 

“What? No- I didn’t say anything.” His voice is quiet and Eddie pats his hand against your thigh before standing up to tower over his friend. “I’m just uh… gonna go to the bathroom,” he continues, pushing himself to stand and rushing around the sofa to put it between him and Eddie. 

“You’re dead,” Eddie barely gets out before Dustin is sprinting out of the trailer with a shriek, making Eddie roll his eyes, sitting back down with a satisfied smile. 

“You’re not going after him?” 

He shakes his head. “Nah. Let him hide out there for ten minutes, he deserves it. I graduated today, he doesn’t get to mess with me.”

“You’re really going to keep milking that for the rest of the day, aren’t you?” 

His brows raise high on his head and he nods, grabbing a handful of chips to shove into his mouth. You playfully roll your eyes as he sits back and hooks an arm around your shoulders before pressing a salty kiss to your cheek. 

“Ugh,” you scoff lightly at the crumbs that fall from his lips and down your shirt. “You’re lucky I love you,” you grumble and he chuckles once he’s swallowed down his snack. 

“Luckiest guy in the world,” he replies, gently knocking his head against yours and you smile, cuddling deeper into his side, knowing just how much he truly believes that. 

You feel the same way, after all.

[luminatricky]

Vampire? In Gotham! (part 1)

Summary: Danny's 19, a prince, a halfa, and tired of being these things. So he jumps on the idea of a vacation as soon he's given the hint of a chance. The only caveat is that he's going to go undercover as a vampire in a big city - Gotham - far from his home dimension. He finds it's easier than he thought it would be. He's already mostly there.

Relationships: Dead on Main (Jason Todd/Danny Fenton), John Constantine & Danny Fenton

Um? Inspired by several prompts and other fanfics. Lost Between Our Needs and Wants AU definitely, with a background Danny's summoned by Ra's as Damian as a sacrifice. Nothing bad happens (to Damian) don't worry. Also, the one in which Danny decided to fight ghosts as a human too.

And John is almost definitely ooc, he's a character I enjoy a lot even though I don't have a firm grasp of his canon.

Danny's afterlife has been way too interesting for way too long. It's gotten to the point that when things suddenly go quiet for months, he hardly hesitates to give his "human" life some over-due attention.

For obvious reasons he's not going to try his "vacation" in his own dimension. Anyone he once might have stayed for know how to get a hold of him, whenever and wherever.

The Amity Park portal is still open. But between the stricter laws on ghosts wanting to use permanent portals he managed to get passed, and the increasingly feral ways the townsfolk have begun defending each other with, Danny feels confident to finally...let go. In his heart, he had always thought of it as still his, despite not being there to maintain it in truth. But now it's not his Haunt anymore, fully and completely.

They don't need him anymore.

And Danny doesn't want to be needed like that again, to be honest. He sacrificed so much to play hero because he got it into his head that he had to do everything alone in the end. As if he was the only one who could kick ghost butt on the daily in town.

Thankfully, a nineteen year old Danny is smarter than a fourteen year old Danny. He's learned the art of delegation. Any tasks that he doesn't need to be present for, he has a whole team of ghostly assistants to handle things for him. The major multidimensional crises have for the most part been solved - his protection Obsession at the very least fed. And quite a few skeleton thralls he freed near the beginning of his reign were suddenly looking for direction. Among them, a decent amount found the talent and fulfillment in positions of bureaucratic power that Danny never will, filling up spots he's unwilling to give out like the candy the various ghosts of nobility treat the roles as. Or ghost nobility. Like the Ancients. Quite a few of the Ancients are assholes.

(At least all the murderous Ancients aren't problems anymore)

With all their help, he's able to occasionally pop in to do paperwork, meet with the High Court for various lawmaking and judicial decisions, and listening to official petitions to the Crown from his people. It's all good. No mountains of unseen paperwork, no audience with the Observants every waking moment, no one across the Realms screaming desperately for help. Even some of the cults have finally caught on that he's not Pariah!

So Danny starts the process of finding a new Haunt for his new, normal, alive alter ego. Staying as long as he has in the Realms couldn't have been sustainable long-term if he didn't want to become a full ghost. As complicated as his relationship with his humanity is these days, he still doesn't want to die again. And Frostbite definitely has been pushing him to finding new territory, in the Infinite Realms or otherwise. Because even for full ghosts going Hauntless for long periods is straining. To say the least.

Although, being just a human again...didn't sit right. Even after all this time. His human form is still one Danny Fenton, in his eyes.

He can never be Danny Fenton again. He accepted that his duties as Crown Prince would keep him away from the identity of the ghost hunter's ghost hunting son, who went to Casper high and had terrible grades in everything but science; the kid who was shoved into lockers and who was addicted to Nasty Burger and played DOOMED with his friends and who wanted to be an astronaut. He accepted that he had to leave that all behind, and be full ghost in all but form. His parents wouldn't want him if they knew everything he lied about, anyways. He didn't actually deserve the name Fenton.

His new Haunt would preferably be in a place where he could reasonably pass himself off as another species, then, and still be safe. Safer than being a ghost at least. Most universes had well-deserved folklore against the Realms. His people are not inherently malevolent...But he knows that they don't play nice and careful with the living.

He would need an ectoplasm rich environment, too. A big city with lots of crime would go a long way for providing the ambient death and fear vibes that would attract Blobs like a bee to nectar. It would also make it feel like the Infinite Realms - hopefully. He's gotten accustomed to that kind of environment. He thinks he may never sleep again in a place quiet and safe.

He'd like a place with a rich history too. Just for fun!

Danny mulls it over carefully, narrowing down universes he could reasonably start his search in. The only universe he can think of with extensive protections for the non-human written into law is one far-flung flavor of an Earth he's semi-familiar with. He's been there twice, both at 16, just starting out and stressed to hell and back with the sheer load of unattended problems Pariah left to rot.

Both times he'd been more than he'd have liked. One Ra's Al Ghul wasn't technically his problem. He was no one's problem now, and that was current Danny's whole issue with it.

John Constantine is an unlamented saint for putting up with a feral teenaged Danny's slap dash attempt at helping the both of them - John with his soul related doom, and Danny with his paperwork related misery.

But. Considering how he handled the contract with Al Ghul, Danny can't blame John for hesitating to renegotiate their terms already. Ra's Al Ghul was an idiot who gave him what he thought was the life of his grandson, in exchange for immortality.

Him. The Prince of the Dead. Immortality.

Thankfully, the wording was imprecise. What he actually traded was the kid's really cool sword - the kid kneeling, terrified eyes meeting his before darting away, offering his own sword to let Danny slit his throat and "collect his due sacrifice", Danny not being able to breathe through his own fear - for pure ectoplasm, with instruction to drink it everyday until he ran out.

This of course killed even him months later from over-exposure.

The man probably felt a mile high in the air, indestructible, right up until he crashed. Al Ghul promptly became a ghost. Which. Closest thing to true immortality the Prince of the Dead could offer him. He kept his end of the deal. It's not his fault that Al Ghul never specified that he didn't want to die to be immortal. It's also not his fault that Al Ghul had so many dead enemies and victims on the other side who were easy to find. It was ridiculously easy - they made a support group around being taken down by the LOA. And who was he to deny the dead their due vengeance?

Right. So John is understandably nervous about Danny owning all the pieces of his soul, no matter how much rapport they've built these past three years. Danny is mature enough to admit that it is his fault for that bit.

On the bright side for Danny, that means one grumpy occult detective in a sad trenchcoat is a guy who lives in his phone. Like an uncle-shaped tamagachi!

He scrolls though his contact list until he thumbs John's number. Surprisingly, instead of going to voicemail, he picks up on the first ring.

"Before you ask, yes I'm cashing in a favor, finally. No, it's nothing evil, I've just got the first actual free time I've had in five years and I'd like to get suggestions on a city to move to."

-------------------

John ended up giving a very detailed list in response. Suspiciously detailed, and hardly prompted. How long had John been thinking on this? And why?

Danny chalked it up to the man's reasonable paranoia when it came to him. John's aware he can pretend to be (fully) human with relative ease, afterall. And the older man knows where he'd need to be able to actually live long term. After-live. Whatever. Point is, John probably made it his business to know where any sneaky invasions would start if Danny ever became a little less morally ambiguous and a little more bloodthirsty.

Entirely fair! Pariah wasn't always a tyrant!

On the very top was Gotham, a city in this world's Jersey, and the crime capitol of the States. Plenty of ambient ectoplasm, and planty of charged emotions wafting from every street corner. He doesn't voice this, but Danny figures that there must be a whole community of ghosts already living there because of that double whammy.

Something about the city's name tickles his memory, but can't quite pin it down. If it was important he'd have remembered. Right?

John is thrown when he asks about his options of other non-humans Danny could reasonably get away with impersonating.

"And why," the occultist half-accuses, "would you of all spooks, want to live in Gotham, as a 'vacation', just to not even pretend to be normal?"

"First of all, ow. John you know just because someone is different doesn't mean they're not normal. I thought you were the cool uncle." He responds half-heartedly. Danny bites his bottom lip, rolling it between his sharp teeth as he tries to think of a part two to that answer that wouldn't get uncomfortably personal.

John doesn't rise to his bait. Danny hears him unscrew something metallic, then the sound of fluid swishing quietly from the other end. Ah.

The silence wears on. Danny should hang up. But winging things have always gotten him into bigger trouble. And John is the guy to call for this. Fuck. And he's bad at lying bold-faced.

Fine.

"I'm half human," Danny responds as if that would explain everything. It doesn't, so he manages to continue in a small voice that he doesn't even remember the last time he'd used. "Sometimes I still pretend to be one when I can't see any other way. But I had my chance at playing the part of both. And I royally screwed it up, literally! I became freaking royalty and I just couldn't anymore. As far as anyone but my doctor is concerned, I'm full ghost. I had a chance - I don't deserve another one. Screw ups don't get nice things."

John takes another swig from his flask, mutters something under his breath that sounds vaguely like 'of course he's a fecking halfa'. His voice is rough around the edges from whatever cheap booze he just drank a concerning amount of.

"Listen. Sounds like you've got trauma dripping from your ears, kid. But what's the point here, huh? Sounds like you want to be human without all the fuss of it." John drawls out.

Danny takes a deep breath in through his nose. He tries to fight down the feeling of being peeled open for the world to see - being afraid isn't helpful right now. He needs to be silly, nonchalant, like he's always been with John in tense situations. Why do they only talk when things are tense, anyways?

"Essentially. It's more like. I want to have all the human experiences I missed out on, but without having to hide being inhuman. That kinda thing."

"And you can't just be a ghost?"

"I really don't think anyone likes being ghosted."

"Don't you start on that. You know what I mean, Princeling."

"Fine. No, I can't be a ghost. That's boring and no one likes being haunted."

John gives a long sigh. After a beat, he acquiesces. "Alright. You could pull off vamps damn well. Got the hair for 'em. The teeth and claws are only slightly off. There's several clans with different looks the same way humans have ethnicities. Although, I don't think that's the same, now that I'm thinking about it. But subspecies doesn't fit either."

Danny hums, tilting his head in thought. "Like the difference between a banshee and a specter?"

"Yeah, like that. All vamps, just different enough, and no kind older than another to say they're the 'main' species." John clarifies. Another pause. "Unless you count Halfas. Which. Some people do but shouldn't. Bloody idiots."

Danny startles, nearly dropping his phone. "Excuse me?"

John snorts. "What? You didn't know?"

"Musta missed that part in the complimentary instruction manual they gave me for having my molecules redecorated." He snarks. "What do you mean I'm already a vampire?"

"I said people who don't know what they're talking about count Halfas as the original vampires. You lot have been around since the bloody dawn of time, it seems." John sounds exasperated.

"That's not what I - never have I ever wanted to take a chomp on anyone's pulse point, what the fuck?"

John gets that smug tone in his voice that Danny has a love-hate relationship with. "And exactly how many undead folks do you hang out with when you're feeling peckish?"

"...you can't be serious." Danny says instead of denying him. What can he even say to that? He's never met a Revenant or Ghoul.

"As the grave, I'm afraid."

When Danny doesn't outwardly respond for too many beats, John takes another chug. "Phantom?"

"John." He begins, pinching the bridge of his nose as more and more dots connect too cleanly for him. "You might be wrong."

"...What awful lore about your eldritch homeland is going to send me into my weekly crisis this time?" The detective groans out.

"Alright. So you know how part of my whole thing as the Prince makes it my job to stay aware of ectoplasmic diseases?"

John hums in acknowledgement, so Danny sucks in a deep breath. "Then you should know two things. One, that I've been to a few dimensions with vampires in them. And like you said, they're all different from each other. I didn't really pay much attention beyond helping the people survive these world-ending scenarios though.

Two, is that in each and every one of those realities, the vampirism was caused by a virus made by an Ancient - don't worry, they're gone. The disease itself is called False Halfa Syndrome. It was their attempt to weaponize Halfas back in Pariah's time."

"Oh shite." John says elegantly. "Bag o' shite!"

"Good luck on that crisis. Me too." Danny is hardly holding in hysterical laughter. "I can't believe Sam and Tucker were right about this. Holy shit."

"How in the world didn't you piece this together until now?!"

"I don't know! I just thought it was coincidence!"

"Bloody fucking hell, Phantom. Nevermind. You can play a vampire totally accurately because you are one. A ghost one." John growls. "Cause that just had to be a thing."

Danny carefully doesn't think about how Vlad might have legitimate claim to that vampiric aesthetic he's got going on. Instead, he's planning on stealing an aesthetic change for his own ruse.

"Nice. Should I know anything else while we're here?" He asks.

John gave a wry laugh, crackling over the phone's shitty old speakers. "About Gotham or your new undead existence?"

"Both." He says instantly. "Both is good."

"Gotham has vigilantes. The birds and bats are efficient, and they spook easy at unknowns. Batman's technically my coworker if we're gonna call the Justice League a job - we don't get paid for this. He and his family deal with the craziest lineup of human rogues I've ever had the displeasure. It's made him a healthy amount of paranoid. If you're doing anything nefarious, he'll find you. And then he'll call me."

Danny isn't exactly afraid of John. But Pariah wasn't afraid of Danny, either, so the halfa takes it seriously. Internally.

"Yeah yeah old man. You've got your eye on me and all that. Uh huh." He genuinely appreciates the warning, too, but messing with John is his bread and butter.

"Watch it, brat," John says with no real venom, unlike a moment ago. "Or I'll bring out the stakes."

"I take mine medium rare, thank you."

"Piss off."

"...About the vampirism?"

"Normal ghost bullshite applies. It's about the ecto, I think. You go absolutely nutters for the stuff in undead folk. Something about how ectoplasm interacts with the reanimated. Liminals are nutritious too, but I've been told it's the difference between cafeteria food and gourmet. One smells absolutely heavenly, the other is barely appetizing."

Oh Ancients is that why all his exes are Liminal? No, hold on, was part of the reason Vlad was so weird about him just ghost-vamp on ghost-vamp mutual hanger?

"What, I'm not the only Halfa in your life? John. I thought we had something special."

"Please don't make this weird. Do not flirt with me." John instantly scolds. "I know you're just being your little weird brand of playful, but I knew you when you were a kid shaped menace. C'mon."

Danny blinks. He didn't think he was flirting, but apparently he was. "Alright. Sorry, John."

There's a sudden crash on the other side of the phone. Followed by John's muffled cursing.

"Listen, I have to go. If you're serious about this I'll get you some good fakes. Text me with what you'd like your name to be." And then John hangs up. Danny smiles into the lingering silence.

------------

PhantomMenace: Dante Nightingale, pwetty please 0w0

God's Favorite Whore: That's the most main character name I've ever bloody seen.

God's Favorite Whore: You're from a dead family in Illinois, farm boy, meta. Had an accident at 14, with a near death experience for believability. You've also been missing since shortly after it. Anyone looking into you will think that's when you got "turned."

PhantomMenace: thats why your the cool uncle <3

God's Favorite Whore: This should count as another favor, don't you think?

PhantomMenace: Yup. I'll be nice

PhantomMenace: 💚 ~2/20 Favors until Soul Return~ 💚

[90slavenderh4ze]

dog days of falling in love - sirius black

pairing: post azkaban!sirius black x reader.

summary: if she spoils the dog, that’s hardly his problem.

warnings: none, just fluff.

a.n: set around ootp, no mentions of yn. first ever time writing a fic, hope you like it! let me know if you have any requests/ideas/suggestions.

Grimmauld Place was silent in the late afternoon, save for the occasional creak of the old house settling into itself. Most of the Order was out—on missions, running errands, living lives beyond the dark walls of Sirius Black’s prison. Even Harry had gone to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys, leaving the house emptier than usual.

Sirius hated the silence.

It left him alone with his thoughts, with memories that clawed at his ribs and pressed down on his chest like a weight he could never quite shake.

But then there was her—a bright spot in his days, a constant presence in the house. Not in an overbearing way, but in a way that made the suffocating air of Grimmauld Place a little easier to breathe.

And right now, she was sitting in the drawing room, curled up on the worn-out armchair, completely immersed in her book.

Sirius had found her like this more times than he could count, legs tucked beneath her, a faint crease of concentration between her brows. It was something he never got tired of seeing. There was something about the way she looked when she was lost in a story—so at peace, so unaware of the rest of the world—that made his chest tighten in ways he refused to examine.

And it gave him an idea.

A childish, reckless, Sirius idea.

With a smirk, he slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. A moment later, a large, black dog padded back inside, tail wagging lazily, dark eyes locked onto his unsuspecting target.

She didn’t notice at first, too caught up in whatever world she was lost in. That wouldn’t do.

With careful, deliberate steps, Padfoot crossed the room and flopped right onto her lap.

“Oh—!”

The book slipped from her fingers as a solid weight landed on her, all fur and warmth and very little consideration for personal space.

“Sirius!” she gasped, half-laughing, half-scolding, her hands instinctively burying themselves in his thick fur. “You absolute menace.”

Padfoot merely huffed, resting his massive head against her stomach, tail thumping against the side of the chair.

She tried to push him off—tried being the key word. “You do realize you’re not a small dog, right?”

Another huff.

She sighed, exasperated but ultimately amused. “I suppose this is your way of telling me you’re bored?”

A lazy wag of his tail.

Shaking her head, she gave up on fighting him off and instead ran her fingers through his fur. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Padfoot let out a low, contented sound that was very close to a pleased sigh. He melted under her touch, every stroke of her fingers sending a warm, lazy sort of pleasure through him.

He could’ve stayed like that forever.

But forever wasn’t an option.

He could hear the others returning, footsteps echoing through the house. He knew the moment would end soon, that reality would come crashing back in, and that he’d have to let go of whatever this was.

Still, he lingered.

She scratched behind his ears, her touch gentle, soothing. “You’re not fooling me, by the way,” she murmured, her voice warm with amusement. “You only do this when you want attention.”

He gave her his best Who, me? look, big puppy-dog eyes and all.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Ridiculous,” she muttered fondly.

And then—Merlin’s bloody beard—she leaned down, pressing the softest, most absentminded kiss to the top of his head.

Sirius Black, infamous troublemaker, ex-Marauder, Order member, and emotionally stunted mess of a man, nearly died on the spot.

The moment was over before he could fully process it.

“There,” she sighed, scratching under his chin. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

He absolutely did not get what he wanted, because what he wanted was more.

More of this. More of her.

And that terrified him.

Before he did something stupid—like shift back into his human form and kiss her properly—he let out a low, exaggerated yawn, stretched lazily, and rolled off her lap, landing on the floor with an undignified thud.

She snorted. “Graceful.”

Padfoot shook himself out, gave her one last look, and padded out of the room, tail flicking behind him.

It wasn’t until he was back in his bedroom, sitting on his bed in human form, that he let himself breathe.

His hands were still trembling slightly, his skin tingling where her fingers had been.

She kissed him.

Granted, she kissed Padfoot, but still.

His fingers brushed over his hair, right where her lips had been, and he let out a soft, breathless chuckle.

He was so bloody doomed.

[littlemelaninfics]

Hi! I see you write for Bill Skarsgard and characters. I was wondering if I could request Eric Draven being a complete and totally pleasure Dom and he ends up putting you into subspace for the first time.

Excuse me, I need a moment 🥴

“Kneel for me.” 

You obediently sank to your knees in front of your dom, your head tilting back as your hair was harshly yanked by the god above you before he filled your pretty mouth with his cock. 

That had been hours ago. Now, you were spread out with your wrists and ankles bound to your metal bed frame. Your back arched, a strained cry leaving your lips as Eric landed a slap to your abused cunt. 

“Hold it. I didn’t say you could come again.” He snarled, feeling you get close for the fourth time that night. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whimpered softly, trying to keep yourself from coming as his deep thrusts nailed your cervix, making your vision spark with pain and pleasure. You yanked on the bonds that held your wrists, desperate to grab him and drag your nails down his back or pull him close to you. 

“Shh, just relax and take it, baby,” Eric nipped at your shoulder, disapproving of your attempts to struggle against his ties. You tried to still, and as you looked up at your Master, you felt the familiar haze wash over you that blurred the lines between your fantasy and reality. 

He saw it in your eyes, the all-too-familiar look he loved to see. You were teetering on the edge of slipping into subspace, and he knew you were hesitant. 

He's proven himself time and time again, so you trusted Eric with your life and you knew that he would never let you fall or abandon you while you were in that mindset. You were constantly in charge of managing every aspect of your life both at work and school, and you so badly wanted to give yourself to him in the bedroom, but you always needed a little push.

“Don’t fight it. I'm right here.” His swollen pink lips grazed yours.

The dangerous tone that had occupied his voice all night was gone as his lips brushed your ear, coaxing you into subspace. Your fourth orgasm rocked through you like a tidal wave, Eric’s skilled fingers gently rubbing circles on your clit as he kept his forceful thrusts. 

Euphoria flooded your body as you went stiff as stone. Somehow making you feel weightless as pleasure overwhelmed your senses. He knew by the glassy look in your eyes that you were so far gone, floating around in subspace. When you're in subspace, you strive to be the best girl you can be for him. You had already stopped yanking against the bonds, and your body had gone almost limp below his massive frame as you relaxed.

He detached himself from your throbbing cunt, earning a small whine at not feeling full. “Don't worry. I’m not done. Hang on for me.”

He kissed your lips, softening up now that you were in a different headspace. You weren’t very good at communicating when you were like this, and it made him hesitant to be rough with you. 

“That’s my good girl,” He murmured, kissing up your chest to leave a mark on your neck for you to blush at in the morning, and him to admire. 

“I know that you have one more for me, Y/N. You’ve been so good tonight, just give me another, then you can be done.” Eric urged you, gently fingering you while stroking your g-spot and lightly pulling your clit between his teeth. 

A silent scream caught in your throat and you arched your back, your thighs trembling erratically, your muscles sore and aching from how many times you’d cum that night. You barely heard his praises, only processing your own mind-numbing pleasure. You tried to retreat your hips, but to no avail,

“Y/N, you’ve got to learn to quit fighting these.” He hummed, touching the light red marks around your wrists, and you looked up at him with pathetic doe eyes,

“M’sorry, Daddy.” You whispered, your voice barely audible. He kissed both your thighs before roughly fingering you until you were soaking his massive forearm. He leaned his head down once again and greedily slurped his favorite drink.

That's five tonight.

Once he saw the tears streaming down your face, he climbed back up your body and kissed your lips tenderly. You murmured incoherently, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you heavily. When you were yourself, you’d reach up to his hair and pull him in deeper, but now you were too fucked-out to think straight. 

He untied your limbs and sat you up enough to get behind you. You rested your head on his still damp chest. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the once chilled water and the face towel next to it. He dipped the towel and covered your forehead while telling you how good you were for him.

"I never thought I'd have the blessing of meeting someone like you and yet, here you are."

He pulled you to sit up, lifting the glass of water to your lips and supporting your head with his other hand. You opened your eyes, your gaze connecting with the deep green eyes that were full of love and adoration for you. You obediently swallowed the water he helped you drink, rehydrating your body.

Once you were relaxed enough to be moved, he lifted you off the bed and into the bathroom. He sat you on the pillow he placed on the stool before going to fill up the tub. You winced as the warm water swallowed your aching body as Eric sank down into the tub with you. You laid your head against his shoulder,

“I love you, Y/N” he said, kissing your temple as he rubbed soap over your body with his cool hands, gently massaging your sore muscles. 

“Love you,” you breathed, making him smile. 

“Can you drink some more for me, baby?” He held the glass, not quite trusting your muscle control yet. You finished the glass before he washed your hair, rubbing your scalp and pulling a pleased moan from your lips.

“Does that feel nice?” He laughed lightly, his chest vibrating against your back. You nodded, squirming as the bath water began to cool, becoming uncomfortable. 

Soon, you were wrapped in a fluffy towel and sat in front of the mirror, Eric standing behind you. He carefully ran your product through your mane, knowing you adored when he did so. It was intimate and tender, and he loved to comb through your tresses to show he loved you. This small gesture eased you back into reality so subtlety that it was a little ritual after a night like this.

“Was I good for you?” You spoke, making his eyes snap up to meet yours in the mirror. 

“Always.” He kissed the crown of your head. 

“Nice to have you back.” He spoke after several moments, his heart nearly bursting as you giggled softly. 

[urcoolgf]

LET HIM SEE

pairing. boyfriend’s bsf¡rafe && reader

content. 18+. cheating (not on reader). smut. unprotected sex. getting caught. angst(?). rafe lowkey being manipulative. language.

summary. part two of ‘off limits?’ where you try to break it off with rafe, but you && rafe end up getting caught by barry… oops.ᐟ p.s. i couldn’t find any pics for this, so you get nothing—use your imagination

it wasn’t the last time—not even close.

rafe cameron was a drug, and you quickly became an addict.

it was a routine at this point—you’d sneak out when barry was sleeping, rafe would come over, fuck you outside the trailer in the darkness, or in his truck. sometimes he’d sneak you over to his place, that way you could be as loud as he wanted you to be.

the only problem—you were actually talking. when you were done, and rafe cleaned you up, you’d lay in his bed and talk, or sit in the backseat and talk. you knew more about him than you knew about barry—than you knew about anyone. he was shockingly easy to talk to, and it was dangerous. it was bad enough when you were just cheating to have sex, but now you were cheating… and getting attached?

it had to end.

you had texted rafe to come over to the trailer—told barry was out ‘handling business’ as always… rafe thought he was getting lucky—a little afternoon’s delight—little did he know.

you sat on the old couch, knees to your chest, waiting. your nail resting between your teeth—you were nervous. rafe wasn’t the type to go down without a fight, so you didn’t know how messy this was about to get… literally.

the sound of his truck tires crunching against the gravel made you jump. his footsteps echoed through your ears. a knock on the metal door startled you—even though you knew it was coming.

“come in,” you squeaked out. you were trying not to sound nervous, but it was impossible.

“hey, baby,” rafe’s voice was quiet, but you could already see the desire darkening his eyes. he made his way over to you, sitting himself right next to you on the couch. his hands moved to grab your hips—attempting to place you on his lap before you stopped him.

“rafe– stop. we gotta talk,” you tried to sound firm, certain—but you weren’t, and you couldn’t fake it.

"okay…,” he replied uncertainly, hesitantly—like he didn’t like where this was going. he slowly released his grasp on you, shifting to lean back against the couch, arms crossed in front of his chest. you cleared your throat, but it was no use—your voice still cracked as the words left your mouth.

“we– we can’t do this anymore,” you voice barely above a whisper, you turned to look up at him. it scared you—how close you were getting to him—you would rather be clueless with barry than be with rafe and know everything.

you always thought you wanted to be best friends with whoever you were dating, but the attachment that was growing didn’t make you feel safe—it made you feel exposed.

“the fuck are you talkin’ about?,” his gaze turned dark—not with lust or desire, with control. you could see the way his jaw tightened, and his posture stiffened.

“this,” you motioned between the two of you, “can’t happen anymore.”

rafe scoffed, but it was more like a laugh—like he couldn’t believe what you were saying, like it was some kind of joke. he shook his head, processing what you just said to him.

“i’m serious,” you replied blankly, your voice finally more stern.

“what’s the matter, princess? finally got a guilty conscience? ya didn’t seem to care too much about your little boyfriend when you were screamin’ my name literally last night,” he was amused at this point, mocking and taunting you like he knew you wouldn’t be able to stand your ground for much longer.

“it wasn’t supposed to go this far… shouldn’t have even happened in the first place,” your voice was shy again, like he had scared you back into your senses.

“don’t play all innocent now… act like you weren’t the one sneakin’ out, weren’t the one textin’ me. you want me jus’ as bas as i want you, doll,” his words struck you right across the face—they were harsh, but they weren’t wrong.

"was a mistake,” you barely got to words out, your eyes glossed over. you forced yourself to keep looking at him, even though all you wanted to do was hide.

“no, baby. it was a lot of things—mistake? not one of ‘em,” he let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head again with that knowing smirk plastered on his face. you hated him—hated that he was right, hated that he was actually changing your mind, hated that you really didn’t hate him at all.

“let me ask you somethin’… if it was so wrong why didn’t ya break up with barry? hm?,” he asked. his expression told you that he knew he had you—had you right where he wanted you—trapped because he was right. you should have broken up with barry. should have left him after the first time rafe kissed you.

you didn’t know how to respond. you just sat there—staring at him while a single tear fell down your cheek—a sense of hurt tainting your face.

"don’t bother answerin’, i know you liked it—liked the sneakin’ around, liked being someone’s dirty little secret. y’know you act all innocent, but you’re just as sick as me,” his eyes narrowed. his arms were still crossed, guarding his chest the same way you were trying to guard your heart.

it wasn’t working.

the look on your face should have broken rafe’s heart. it should have made him ache. well… it did—just not in the way it should have. he was turned on beyond belief right now, seeing the rogue tears trailing down your cheeks, the way your lips were puffy, and your eyes were glossy. he had always wanted to ruin you, and now he had… in more ways than one.

he knew you’d never be able to leave him, and it made blood rush to his dick.

he knew how sick that was—how twisted he was—but that’s just what you did to him. you made him obsessive.

rafe’s hand moved to your cheek, wiping away the tears as if he wasn’t the one who caused them. he caressed your face with a gentleness that felt foreign.

“shhh, it’s okay baby… so pretty when you cry,” he cooed. you didn’t even fight him, didn’t push him away like you should have. you melted into his touch, resting your head in his palm like it was your safe haven.

—

“so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, holy shit,” he grunted, punctuating his words with rough thrusts. you couldn’t do anything—not that you even wanted to—you hated yourself. the tears streaming down your reddened skin were a mixture of pleasure and pain. you were frustrated, you were overstimulated, and you were begging for more.

"wan’ more, doll? yeah, i know ya do,” he was breathless above you, pounding you into the sheets until all you could do was whimper around his dick.

“fuck! ray,” his name was leaving your lips like a broken record, like you knew nothing else. it felt so dirty—letting him take you like this on the bed you shared with your boyfriend, but you didn’t care. you couldn’t care, not when he was hitting that spot that only he could. he was all over you, claiming you like he had something to prove after your conversation minutes earlier. his hands squeezing and gripping any part of you he wanted.

“crazy to think you ever thought you could leave me—like that little boyfriend of yours could ever make you feel the way i do,” his tone was low, possessive, almost amused.

“say it– say he can’t make you feel the way i do. tell me who you belong to, y/n,” he was demanding you—the feeling of his dick working you open made your back arch off the bed.

“shit– rafe… please!,” you pleaded with him—not just for more, but for mercy. you already felt like a shitty person, and he was not making it easy on you.

“nuh uh, princess. tell me.”

“you! fuck– i belong– ‘m yours rafe. only yours,” your words were broken by your moans, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“that’s my girl. so perfect f’r me,” he grunted with a satisfied smirk on his face. the way he was moving above you was hypnotic. you watched his abs contract and relax as he pumped into you. but, when he moved his finger to your clit, you lost it—throwing your head back impossibly further into the sheets.

you were so lost in the feeling of rafe that you didn’t hear barry’s bike ripping through the gravel around the trailer.

“the hell is goin’ on here?!,” barry shouted, the sound of the door closing harshly behind him rang through your ears. you jumped at the sudden voice, trying to move out from under rafe, but he wouldn’t let you.

rafe didn’t care. he didn’t even stop, if anything he went harder. he grasped your wrists in his hand, moving them above your head, forcing you to stay where you were.

he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “don’t act clueless now, princess… let him see– let him see how i’ve ruined you. all you could do was moan—at his words, at the feeling of his warm breath against your ear, at the way he was so deep in you.

rafe looked down at the ‘B’ necklace still decorating your chest—you had fixed it after the first night to not raise suspicion with barry. rafe basically growled before ripping it off—once again— throwing it behind him to where barry stood in shock, hitting him right in the chest before falling to the floor.

“you’re fuckin’ sick! get the fuck out!,” barry shouted, trying to lunge at rafe, but he wasn’t letting anyone or anything get him off of you. he used the hand that wasn’t on your clit to push barry away with a strength he didn’t even know he had.

“let her finish first man, she’s close,” he said, a smug smirk on his lips. you weren’t even here anymore, totally gone in the feeling of rafe inside you and the sensation he was giving your clit. you were moaning even louder now, and all barry could do was watch, jaw slacked.

barry just walked out, unable to even process what was happening. he paced outside the trailer, your noises still audible. once you came around rafe’s cock—and he shot his release into you—he just picked you up bridal style, and carried you out the trailer toward his truck.

“i’ll be back f’r her stuff,” is all rafe said as he passed barry calmly, holding his ‘best friend’s’ naked girlfriend in his arms.

JOIN MY TAGLIST

© URCOOLGF. est. 2025

TAGS .ᐟ @yktayy9669 @drewsswifeyy @drewrry @frankoceanluvr11 @dearestmillls @icaqttt @lynoriax @hpboysslut2707 @stoned-writer @angvl3tears @beabafreakbee @ltristessedureratoujours @totalswag @bridgersph @vanessa-rafesgirl @rafegetinmybed @georgiarose94

[ddarker-dreams]

Better The Devil You Know.

Yandere Chrollo x Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, discussions of past minor character death, and descriptions of anxiety. Word count: 2.6k.

You awake to cold sheets and damp cheeks. 

It isn’t a peaceful transition into consciousness. You fight for each breath, a losing battle that swaddles your mind in thick fog. The vapors thin out as time drags along. It doesn’t dissipate in its entirety, preferring to linger and prolong your disorientation. 

You wipe at your face with your wrists, ignoring the sting accompanying the action. Hesitatingly, you appraise it in a ray of moonlight that snuck past the blinds. It’s clear, not crimson and thick. A normal product of a healthy body. You should feel relieved, you think. Every organ is as it should be. Your brain remains in your cranium, your lungs expand and contract, and your heart pumps, albeit at an alarming speed. 

It’s better than the chill of encroaching death. 

… 

You are alive, aren’t you? 

This question prompts an investigation. 

Nothing hurts. Your throat, maybe, but that’s a minor ache spurred from thirst. Your skin is warm and clammy. Peeling the comforter off, you squint, assessing your body’s condition. Weary eyes take in everything. Your socks, the lace trimming of your nightgown, its diaphanous midriff, then your chest. Everything appears in order.  

Would your incorporeal form accurately reflect your physical body? 

You shake your head. 

This can’t be heaven — no pantheon would be cruel enough to set the stage of your paradise with props from your captivity. 

It can’t be hell either. If it were, you wouldn’t be alone right now.

You blink.

You’re alone? 

Chrollo’s side of the bed is notably empty. He must’ve got up in a hurry, the sheets are in disarray. The adjoining restroom is dark and unoccupied, confirming he must be elsewhere. Your stomach churns. Determined to do away with this creeping anxiety, you get up, padding across the hardwood floor. 

The night gifts shivers and goosebumps. Wishing to ward off its unwanted advances, you wrap your arms around yourself. You pass through the door that connects to the common area. Although it’s dimly lit, you can tell he isn’t here. The attached balcony is similarly uninhabited. A quick foray into the study confirms your status; you’re truly by yourself. 

What should be a triumph or a relief delivers nothing but dread. 

You return to the common room to assess the situation. 

You’ve never been left alone before. Not without him telling you in advance, normally with a rough estimate of when he’ll return. There’s no way an important detail like that would slip your mind. At a loss, you dredge through your memories for some sign you may have missed. His voice pierces through your head like an arrow. You wince but ignore your body’s displeasure at anything associated with him. The unintelligible noises sharpen, forming consonants and vowels. 

The thrum of the air conditioner eases away. 

You’re left in absolute silence, until Chrollo’s voice fades away, replaced by another.

“... She was five or six, I think. Right around the age where you start losing baby teeth. There’d been this game she wanted and, y’know, kids aren’t rolling in cash. So she figured, what better way to pay for it than through the tooth fairy? I caught ‘er with my wrench, determined as anything, ready to speed up the process. It ended up being a little inside joke between us.”

Your lower lip trembles. 

“... That’s how she ended up getting identified. Her teeth, I mean. Wasn’t anything else left to go off of. I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. A whole life she lived, sometimes getting into trouble, but mostly helping others outta theirs. And to have that— all that— reduced to just… just a couple, couple fuckin’— teeth? What kinda joke is that?”

You fill a glass with water until it overflows.  

“Hey, tell me. Has that fucker ever mentioned ‘er? … Probably not, right? Probably never knew she existed in the first place.” 

Head thrown back, you gulp down the liquid, fighting the lump that longs to form in your throat. 

“Who knows? Maybe I’m the one in the wrong ‘ere. Hell, you don’t look much older than her yourself. I don’t— don’t wanna hurt ya. But…” 

Tears prick the corner of your eyes. 

“There’s no other way to hurt him.” 

Someone’s beside you.

You can hear their voice, though it sounds like it’s coming from miles away, carried over by the wind. Warmth sears your bare shoulders. You smell the faint aroma of sandalwood and amber. It’s distinct, this cologne that serves as an ill-omen better than any blackbird or cracked mirror. You couldn’t scrub it from your memory if you tried. That, or the scent of old books, leather, coffee, and red wine. 

You dig your nails into something — fabric, perhaps — but nothing grounds you. It’s like you’ve been transported outside of space and time. Existing, yet far from alive. Your stomach falls while your head floats away. Up, up, up, lifting you higher and higher. From this impossible vantage point, you sway, your limbs gleefully ignoring every attempt to regain control. 

And there it is again. Your name echoes throughout the atmosphere, beckoning you to acknowledge the sound’s source. 

Maybe you should.

Even if you’ll come to regret it. 

When you first met Chrollo, his eyes stood out the most, like the universe itself deemed them worthy of veneration. You found the gray depths captivating. The undertone varied, you never could ascertain if they were a cool or warm shade. All you knew was that once they found you, they boasted a vitality siphoned at the expense of your own. 

Presently, they can’t. Their unwitting host has been exsanguinated. 

“Where were—” You silence yourself, aghast by the implication. 

You’d sought him out. So desperate for an anchor, you would’ve latched onto the culprit behind your drowning. There’s no doubt he’d find some twisted satisfaction in the accidental admission. You shrink away, but the solid counter presses against your spine, halting your retreat. He doesn’t advance, you’d barely created any distance. 

“There’d been something that required my immediate attention,” Chrollo answers your unfinished question. There’s no thinly veiled derision or curiosity in his voice. You miss the familiarity. “Does anything hurt?” 

It’s then that you recall your predicament. 

You’re on the kitchen floor, surrounded by scintillating shards of glass. A pool of water gathers to your right. Chrollo’s bent down before you, wearing a heavy coat and a tint of pink on his nose. He must’ve come from outside. He stares unblinkingly, awaiting your verdict, which you deliver by shaking your head. There’s a dull ache in your tailbone but you keep that to yourself. It’s awkward enough that he found you in this state. 

You’re sitting on the floor with one leg extended and the other bent at the knee, allowing your short nightgown to ride up. The compromising position stokes your embarrassment. You shuffle around to maintain some dignity. In doing so, you forget the pointed glass strewn about. Before you make contact, you’re hoisted up. Chrollo foresees your struggle and holds you tight enough to thwart its success. 

“You’re alright,” he reassures, his sincere gentleness unbecoming. "Everything's alright."

He places you down on the closest couch and sits beside you. While you regain your bearings, he shrugs off his jacket, then drapes it around your trembling form. His scent and warmth flood your senses. You consider throwing it off out of spite, only to decide against it. You’d be the one to suffer the most. Chrollo remains unusually silent as you cocoon yourself in the thick wool jacket. It’s big on you, but not big enough to swallow you whole like you’d prefer. 

“Should I grab your propranolol?” 

Another head shake.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Foreseeing your tepid response, he adds, “Verbally?” 

You clear your throat as quietly as you can. “I got thirsty.” 

“Hm.” 

You both know he isn’t convinced. It’d be easy for him to poke and prod until you revealed everything — intentionally or not — but his lips remain in a thin line. You shuffle in your seat. The fabric brushes against your wrists, eliciting a sharp inhale. The burn is short-lived yet the memories associated with it rage on. 

“... Chrollo?” 

He blinks, likely unused to the sound of his name on your lips. “Yes, love?” 

“If that man killed me, would it have hurt you?” 

A shadow falls over his visage, like a waxing crescent transitioning to a new moon. When you shiver, it isn’t from the cold. Dark hair frames a far darker expression. His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to see you better, beyond your flesh, at the crux of your soul. You await whatever comes next, returning his stare with equal intensity. 

Finally, he slowly replies, “Yes, it would’ve.” 

“Then why was it so easy for you to kill his daughter?” You ask, the words weighing heavily upon you. “You might’ve liked her, if you’d gotten to know her.” 

The man revealed enough for you to feel like you knew her. Lana Ellis — a woman with an iron will, sharp tongue, and golden heart. She’d recently been hired to work as a waitress at a business that catered high-end events. Galas, celebrity birthdays and weddings, those sorts of things. It wasn’t going to be a permanent arrangement. Lana planned to ditch the gig after saving up tuition money, where she’d then aim for a doctorate in veterinary medicine. According to him, he’d squandered her college fund after the unexpected death of her mother; his childhood sweetheart. He said he’d never forgive himself or the Troupe. 

“She wasn’t s’posed to have been there,” he wheezed. “She never should’ve been there…!” 

Chrollo shuts his eyes. “What are you getting at, dear?” 

His words come out light, though they’re anything but. 

“She could’ve been me.” 

“Yet she wasn’t.” 

“But—!” Your voice cracks, so you take a deep breath and try again. “You… you deprive the world of people you could’ve come to like, be friends with, whatever! All for stuff you eventually do away with. How is that… how can you…” 

Righteous anger suits you. It's a sword and shield that requires no skill to wield, reaching for the instruments have become second nature. Their effectiveness doesn't matter so long as you can hold onto something.

“You don’t need to understand.” 

This isn't a parry or pivot, he's disarmed you.

“Huh?” 

“Yes… if anything, it’s best if you don’t,” he mutters, more to himself than you. His eyes find yours again. “I can’t make sense of your empathy any more than you can grasp my lack of it. If I could, you’d no longer be yourself. Your self-limiting, bleeding heart should remain as is. It’s the one part of you I’ll leave untouched.” 

You don’t know what you were expecting. 

You slump back into your seat. “... Don’t you think you’re overestimating yourself?” 

“Hardly,” he replies. Then, in a softer voice, “You torment yourself, love. This—” 

He rests his hand over your heart.

“—Hurts you more than anything I’ve ever done. Yet you believe it unthinkable I’d do away with such an inconvenience.” 

“So you’re a coward,” you mumble. The insult is uninspired but it suits your purposes. “You can’t handle it, so you took the easy way out.” 

“Rationalize it anyway you'd like.” 

Chrollo reaches for your forearm and coaxes it into view. His fingers brush along your wrists, where the man’s restraints left rope burn behind. The irritated skin is slowly recovering. The deeper wounds, those without a cure, will linger after the surface heals. They’re etched into your bones. 

“Isn’t going against your morals worse than having none?" Chrollo queries. “That girl’s father knew you had no involvement in his daughter’s death. You’re an unwilling third party, same as she was. And he was ready to hurt you regardless."

Your mouth feels dry. “He didn't hurt me—” 

Chrollo raises an eyebrow, causing head to flood your cheeks.

“—All... that... much. I don’t think he was going to...?” 

“No, not until he was intoxicated enough to stomach it,” Chrollo retorts. “We’ll never know for certain, darling. Thankfully, I interrupted before it could get to that point."

That point, that point, that point...

What could that man have done to you?

Chrollo appraises you like he's yet to decide on something.

After a moment passes, he leans in, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your muscles stiffen as he pulls you close. He exerts none of the force you know him to be capable of. The gesture's languid nature gives the impression you could wriggle free if you tried. You don't test this theory. Chrollo's mood seems pensive, not amorous, hence your hesitant compliance.

He speaks your name. Then, he asks, "What's really bothering you?"

Biting your lip, you turn your head away from him.

He doesn't relent. "You can tell me anything, you know."

If you weren't so utterly exhausted, you might've laughed.

"You wouldn't be my first choice for a heart-to-heart."

"How about your second?"

You look at him like he's just suggested the world is flat. He smiles softly, allowing you time to think.

It's weird.

This is weird.

The lack of verbal finesse, designed to extract any emotion or confession he desires. You're used to his cunning, his depravity, his unfiltered self. You've come to expect it, as one would the sunrise and sunset. Briefly, you search for it. The expedition is futile. His normal tells are gone.

Truly, you could almost forget the imbalanced nature of this dynamic and pretend it's normal.

It isn't, however.

So you'll need to keep your wits about you.

"Could... er..." you trail off, uncertain of the best parlance, "Will something like that... happen... again...?"

The claustrophobia of being shut in a trunk. Blindfolded, hands and feet bound, gagged by a rag. Terrified and sobbing. Unable to breathe, unable to scream.

You feel as small now as you did then.

The man told you his reasoning. It tugged on your heart. Wringed the organ for everything it was worth. He deserved justice. He deserved revenge. At that lone instance, the playing field was even. The immeasurable gap in strength between him and the Phantom Troupe's boss meant nothing if Chrollo wasn't physically present. There was a chance for this bereaved father to return the pain unfairly inflicted on him.

But why on you?

Why do you have to be cast into hell for the sins of another?

And why was it so tempting to forgive the devil's transgressions against you, if he provided salvation just this once?

You don't know when you began shaking, but you do know it won't be easy to stop.

"You must've been scared," he murmurs.

This observation makes your throat feel impossibly tight, as if a serpent coiled around your neck. His eyelashes flutter shut and he rests his forehead against yours. He contents himself on breathing in your air while you wrestle with the odd intimacy of it all; this simplicity untainted by needling or provocations.

"I never make the same mistake twice," Chrollo eventually says. "In light of recent events, I've made it clear that you are off limits. Those who still wish to try their luck, well..."

The air itself writhes like a malicious entity. The sensation is brief, but the impression lingers, chilling you on a primordial level. You're reminded that his control, while impressive, isn't flawless. Every surface can fissure, allowing the noxious contents contained within to break free. This concentration of ill-intent isn't even focused at you. To be on the receiving end must be to face the inevitably of death.

"... They can be made examples of too."

Curiosity nips at your heels, demanding satiation.

Your part your lips.

Then his eyes reopen. They're dull, lacking any illumination, like light itself felt the urge to flee.

It's an understandable sentiment.

For that reason, you decide some questions are better left unanswered.

[yuta-nakamots]

LOL (Laugh-Out-Loud) - S.Johnny

Pairing - Boyfriend!Johnny x Fem!Reader

Genre - Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship!AU

Warnings - oral (male receiving), public blowjob, oral creampie

Summary - Johnny has the most ridiculous dreams, but when he wakes up mid-flight in a panic over whether you’d still love him if he were a bee, you have to reassure him in a way that quickly turns from playful to sinful at 30,000 feet.

Word Count - 1.3k

A/N - I can’t believe I really dreamt about this dude asking me if I would love him if he were a bee

Now Playing: LOL (Laugh-Out-Loud) - NCT 127

It was finally summer break and you had been lucky enough to schedule a short vacation for you and your boyfriend Johnny between his graduation and your impending doom at summer school. He wasn’t too picky about where you guys went so you decided to bring him home for a bit, especially since you knew how much your parents loved him.

About three hours into the flight you had left your seat next to a sleeping Johnny to go to the restroom and as you sat down and buckled yourself back in, you noticed him tossing and turning next to you with a frown on his face, which he had been doing for quite some time now. You decided to end his misery by shaking him awake, causing him to groggily open his eyes with evident confusion as he tried to figure out where he was. 

When he caught your gaze his eyebrows immediately raised, “babe you still love me right?” He blurted.

“Johnny, be quiet,” you shushed, his voice a little too loud for the quiet airplane, “yes, I still love you. Why wouldn’t I?”

He let out a breath he wasn’t even aware that he was holding. “I dreamt that I became a bee and that you didn’t love me anymore,” you had to fight back the urge to laugh, “it was like the complete opposite of the bee movie!”

You placed a hand on his thigh to calm his excitement, “I’ll love you even if you became a bee.” 

“Really?” He asked, slightly squirming under your grip. “You’d still love me?”

“Of course,” you assured him, “would you still love me if I were a bee?”

He paused for a second, “yes…but, there would also be some issues.” You were just the tiniest bit hurt at this. You had told him that you’d undoubtedly love him if he were no longer human yet he has the nerve to say that he’d only love you conditionally. 

“Issues with what?” You asked.

“With uhhh,” his eyes darted from your eyes to your lips, then down to the hand on his thigh before he grabbed it and brought it under the blanket that was covering him, placing it on his crotch where you could feel his arousal. “With stuff like this.”

Your eyes widened as you processed what was happening, “Johnny,” you exclaimed in shock, “you can’t possibly be turned on by the thought of one of us being a bee.” 

“I’m not! It’s just that, well, when I was a bee, you had locked me out from your bedroom window and all I could do was watch as you changed your clothes,” you gave him a playful squeeze, making his voice falter, “a-and I couldn’t touch you, I couldn’t kiss you, I couldn’t tell you how beautiful you are, and it was so upsetting.” 

“Aww, you poor thing,” you cooed, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek as you traced the outline of his pulsing cock through the layers of his clothing. 

“Please, please, please help me,” he begged, “I wanna cum so badly.” 

“Babe, I’m not letting you fuck me on a plane,” you stated. 

One of his hands traveled under the blanket, covering yours that was resting on his crotch. “I don’t have to be inside you, just this is enough,” he sighed out as he began guiding your hand up and down his clothed length. “Please?”

You nodded slowly, as if you were weighing your options, “and what’s in it for me?”

“I’ll fuck you so hard the next time we do it, I promise,” he blurted out. 

“Mmm, I don’t think that’s enough…” 

“I’ll buy your meals for a day,” when he saw that you still weren’t all that excited, “okay how about two?”

“Deal. But I get to choose where we eat,” you told him, at which he senselessly agreed, just wanting to get his release. 

You started by teasing the head of his dick, running a finger up and down the sensitive area as if you were tickling it. Just that alone was enough to get Johnny to shudder in his seat. Satisfied at the reaction he gave, you decided to do a little more for him, pressing your palm lightly on the tip of his member and running it down ever so slowly then cupping the base of his cock and balls at the end. “More,” he pleaded weakly, and you gladly obliged upon seeing how good he was behaving. 

Pulling the waistband of his sweatpants down, wanting to take your time, you distracted him with kisses to his neck and jaw. You inserted your hand into his pants, doing the same motions you did before except now there were fewer layers between your hand and his throbbing length. 

His breath hitched when you finally snuck your fingers past the elastic of his underwear, allowing your skin to meet his and feeling the heat from his dick spread through your hand. Johnny turned to kiss you, effectively muting the sounds he made as you began spreading his precum from the head of his member, running a finger around it and enjoying the way your boyfriend fell apart from your touch. 

You started to slowly pump your hand up and down his veiny cock, its weight and thickness feeling so satisfying to hold. Feeling him twitch in your grasp, you loosened your grip, not wanting your fun to end so soon, drawing a quiet whine from your boyfriend. “Please let me cum,” he begged, breaking away from your kiss and looking up at you with his cute expression, as if he were a puppy that needed his owner to take care of him. 

When your motions finally picked up in speed, you felt the strong muscles of his thighs clench while he shallowly rutted into your hand. “Fuck, can I cum in your mouth?” He asked, brows furrowed in concentration, his hands scrunching up the fabric of the blanket on his lap. 

You sat up, quickly checking to make sure no one was watching the two of you and no flight attendants would be coming by. Seeing that the coast was clear, you turned back to him, “fine but make quick.” 

“Yes, thank you,” he sighed out as you lowered your mouth onto his length, your saliva coating it while he continued to rock into your warmth. You didn’t even have the chance to tease him with your tongue since he began desperately thrusting into your lips, fucking your mouth like he would your pussy. 

You felt his dick twitching once more, hungrily chasing its release so you placed a hand onto his lower abdomen to keep his hips down as a safety precaution, and not a moment too soon. Johnny lets out a strained moan the moment he begins spilling his load into your mouth, its bitter and salty taste coating your tongue. 

He continued to shallowly thrust into you, riding out his high though a shiver went through his body as you swallowed around his length then swirled your tongue around its head to clean him up. Johnny let out a heavy breath of relief, his body going limp when you finally pulled away from his now sensitive cock. You let him recover while doing your best to take care of him, tucking him back into his underwear and readjusting his sweats, neatly tying back together the strings that had gotten loose. 

At last, when you were straightening out the blanket to cover your boyfriend’s large frame, he had enough strength to say “thanks, love you.” 

“Love you too, bee boy,” you playfully remarked, patting his firm chest as he dozed off once more.

Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like Friend In Me: J.Jaehyun

[aspenmissing]

This idea has been rattling around in my brain like a pebble and you’ve become one of my fav writer as of late!

Fem!Reader and the character are in an argument/disagreement, reader is over it and just wants it to end so they just pull up their shirt and flash them (this was a tiktok trend for awhile, that’s where I got it)

I love your writing! And remember, you deserve a break too🫶🏻

ꜰʟᴀꜱʜ ᴏꜰ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ || 6172 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴜᴅɪᴛʏ (ʙᴏᴏʙ ꜰʟᴀꜱʜɪɴɢ), ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ʜᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ/ʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴘɪᴄᴇ (ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ&ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀʀʀʀʀ!!!! ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴏ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ! ɪ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ! (ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛʀᴇɴᴅ!!) <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ

JAYCE

Jayce paced back and forth in the workshop, frustration evident in every movement. His thoughts were scattered, his emotions high, but Y/N... Y/N was different. She wasn’t shouting, wasn’t arguing back—she was quietly fuming, her eyes locked on him with a tension that only seemed to grow thicker. His chest tightened with irritation, and his mind scrambled to find the right words.

“Y/N, this isn’t the time to shut down!” Jayce exclaimed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “We need to work through this!”

Y/N stood perfectly still, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn’t even flinch as Jayce’s voice rose in pitch, each word more heated than the last. The tension in the air felt suffocating, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Her gaze never left him, unwavering and calm. She could feel Jayce’s frustration radiating like heat from a forge, but it wasn’t helping. She wasn’t angry anymore. No, she was just... tired. Tired of the constant bickering, tired of the way every little thing seemed to blow up into a mountain of problems. And now, it felt like the argument was going in circles, neither of them getting anywhere.

Jayce, oblivious to her exhaustion, took another step forward, his brows furrowed. “Why are you being so difficult? I’m trying to make things better here!”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she shifted on her feet. Her heart raced—not from anger—but from something else entirely. She was done. Done with the back and forth, done with the fight that had grown more tedious by the second. Her mind was made up.

With a sudden, almost theatrical movement, Y/N took a step toward him, causing Jayce to freeze in place. Before he could even register what was happening, she pulled her shirt up, flashing him in one swift motion.

Jayce froze in place, his mouth going dry. His brain scrambled to process the sudden shift in events. His eyes widened, his heart skipped a beat, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He couldn’t even find the words to say. He stared, completely gobsmacked, as Y/N casually let the shirt fall back into place. There was no teasing, no smirk—just a simple, almost clinical motion, as though she were dusting off the argument like it was nothing.

Y/N didn’t need to say anything—her message was clear. She was done with this. She turned on her heel, her back straight, and began to walk away without a single word. Jayce was still frozen, caught somewhere between shock and confusion, his mind struggling to comprehend the fact that she had just done that.

But then—his legs started moving. He blinked, realizing too late that Y/N was walking out, and his brain caught up with his body.

“W-Wait!” Jayce stammered, rushing forward, trying to catch up to her. His foot caught on a loose piece of equipment, and he stumbled. His hands flailed in a desperate attempt to catch his balance, but it was no use. With a yelp, Jayce tumbled forward, his body colliding with a stack of metal crates, causing a loud clatter.

Y/N, without missing a beat, glanced over her shoulder. She didn't break her stride, but there was a brief flash of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, one that she immediately hid. Jayce was sprawled on the floor now, still attempting to get up with that same frantic energy, his face beet-red.

“Damn it!” he muttered, half-laughing, half-exasperated. He quickly scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off and looking helplessly at her retreating form. “Wait—just—just hold on!”

But Y/N didn’t wait. She walked out of the workshop without looking back, her footsteps steady and purposeful, as though the whole moment had been a dream. All Jayce could do was watch, standing there with his arms outstretched as though he could somehow will her back.

He stood frozen for a long moment, completely speechless, processing the absurdity of the situation. The argument... it seemed so small now. So insignificant. The tension that had consumed him was gone, replaced with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. A feeling he couldn’t quite place.

After a beat, Jayce gave a frustrated groan. “Why is this so complicated?!” He sighed, rubbing his forehead in disbelief. “This... this is definitely not how I expected this day to go.”

VIKTOR

Viktor’s fingers drummed impatiently on the edge of his workbench, his glasses perched low on his nose as he glared at Y/N. “You’re not listening, Y/N,” he said, his voice strained with frustration. “This isn’t a matter of personal preference; it’s science.”

Y/N crossed her arms, her lips curling into a tight frown. “I am listening, Viktor. But you’re being unreasonable.”

Unreasonable? Viktor’s eye twitched. “Unreasonable? You don’t understand the implications of—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly well, Viktor!” Y/N cut him off, her voice rising. “You’re all about the science, but you never listen when it comes to us, to me.”

Viktor let out a sigh, the weight of his work pressing down on him. “I can’t just drop everything because you feel neglected. I’m on the brink of—”

“On the brink of what, Viktor? Another experiment gone awry?” Y/N snapped, rolling her eyes. “I’m so tired of your brink-of-greatness routine. We’ve been through this before!”

Viktor’s hands clenched into fists, his frustration mounting. “It’s not like I’m doing this for myself! I’m doing this for both of us—so we can have a future without the limitations of your reckless spontaneity.”

Y/N’s eyebrow arched, and she stepped forward. “Reckless? You think I’m reckless?”

“Yes!” Viktor shot back, his voice a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. “You act without thinking! This whole thing is about focus, and I’m not going to let you derail me just because you can’t wait for five minutes of my attention!”

Y/N’s pulse quickened, a sharp sting of hurt flashing in her chest. “You know what, Viktor?” she said, her tone suddenly cold. “I’m so over this.”

Viktor blinked, his posture stiffening, but before he could respond, Y/N was already crossing the room. She stopped just in front of him, her eyes flickering with mischief, and then—without warning—she pulled up her shirt in one swift motion, flashing him her chest with a playful flourish.

Viktor froze, his mouth hanging slightly open in shock, his usually sharp focus completely derailed by the sudden onslaught of skin. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he couldn’t form a coherent thought.

Y/N, looking entirely unbothered, dropped her shirt back down as casually as if it were any other day. “There,” she said, turning away with a playful smirk. “Now you’ve got my full attention. Now, maybe you can focus on what really matters.”

Viktor’s brain scrambled to catch up as she sauntered toward the door, the playful sway of her hips adding an almost smug air to her retreat. His eyes flicked back to the workbench, and then, with an almost imperceptible grin tugging at his lips, he found his voice again.

“Well, I can’t deny that was a different approach,” he drawled, his voice oozing with confidence and a touch of his usual cocky charm. “If you keep this up, I might have to declare an emergency meeting… about the new distraction techniques.”

Y/N stopped in her tracks, turning just enough to flash him a teasing grin. “You’re welcome,” she said, her eyes dancing with amusement. “But if you’re thinking of using that as a regular tactic… it’s not gonna work. This was a one-time offer.”

Viktor’s smirk deepened, clearly unfazed by her words. “Oh, I’m certain I can come up with more ‘offers,’” he teased, leaning back against the bench with an exaggerated sigh. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll flash you some weapons of my own next time.” His gaze flicked up to meet hers with a glint of mischievousness.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, resisting the urge to laugh as she crossed her arms again. “Keep dreaming, Viktor,” she said with a wink, her expression softening despite the lingering tension.

Viktor chuckled, his gaze following her toward the door. “You’re going to make it hard for me to get any work done, aren’t you?”

Y/N turned to face him one last time, her grin playful. “You’re the one who’s always too focused. Maybe a little distraction is good for you once in a while.”

“Well, if you insist…” Viktor's voice trailed off as he returned to his work, his mind racing—though it wasn’t with the calculations he had been working on earlier. The playful exchange had lightened the mood between them, and he refocused on his desk, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth that had been missing for far too long.

As for Y/N, she walked out of the workshop, but not without a sense of victory. Despite their argument, she had managed to pull him out of his tunnel vision, even if it had taken something a little… unconventional. Maybe it wasn’t the solution to all their problems, but it certainly made things a whole lot easier to handle.

JAYVIK

In the dimly lit apartment that Y/N, Viktor, and Jayce shared, the usual calm was replaced by a ridiculous energy that felt like a comedy sketch gone wrong. What had started as a simple disagreement about something trivial—whether or not to use a certain chemical in a new invention—had somehow spiraled into a full-blown ridiculous argument.

Y/N stood with her arms crossed over her chest, an exaggerated pout on her face, clearly fed up with the entire situation. Her eyes were squinted with mock offense, and her posture was almost comically defensive. "Seriously, Jayce? You think we need that much stabilization fluid? We’re not trying to build a rocket ship here!" she huffed, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Jayce, on the other hand, had his hands on his hips, pacing back and forth like an annoyed professor. “I’m just trying to make sure our projects are stable, Y/N!” He threw his arms up in the air as if explaining the most obvious thing in the world. “If you want explosions in the lab, then sure, go ahead, but I’d like to avoid that.”

Y/N scoffed dramatically, her hand coming up to her forehead as if she were fainting from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Oh yes, Jayce. Of course. Stabilization fluid. How could I forget? Because that’s clearly the most important thing we should focus on, not the fact that we have—what—three different projects on the go, and half of them are leaking.”

Jayce shot her an exaggerated glare. “They’re not leaking. That’s just... residual moisture.”

“Residual moisture? Is that what we’re calling it now?” Y/N smirked, leaning forward with a knowing look. “I thought we were going to invent something useful, not a glorified puddle.”

Viktor, who had been quietly sitting on the couch with his cane resting next to him, seemed to be watching this all unfold like it was a soap opera—though one he was clearly tired of. He rested his chin on his hand, pretending to be invested but internally wondering how long it would take for them to realize how ridiculous they were being. His eyes flicked from Y/N to Jayce, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Are we really arguing about fluid consistency?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

Jayce turned to Viktor, ignoring Y/N for a moment. "See? Viktor gets it! I’m just trying to make sure we don’t blow up the lab—again!"

“Again?” Y/N interjected, her voice dripping with mock disbelief. “Jayce, sweetie, the last time I checked, you were the one who forgot to put the stabilization fluid in, and I had to save the project from being a pile of ash. Let’s not pretend that’s not what happened.”

Jayce opened his mouth to argue, but then paused. “I... may have, uh, neglected that once. But this time—”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, cutting him off with a laugh. “Oh sure, this time, you’re the hero with the liquid of destiny. What will it be next time? A magic crystal?”

Viktor finally sat up a little straighter, his voice breaking the bickering like a dull thud. “Perhaps the magic crystals will help you two focus,” he said dryly, clearly done with the argument but unable to fully mask the faint amusement in his tone. He shifted his weight, leaning back slightly, watching them with an unreadable expression. “Honestly, I’m just waiting for the next ‘residual moisture’ disaster.”

Y/N turned to Viktor, giving him a playful glare. “You’re not helping.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Viktor replied with a small smirk. “I’ve learned that when it comes to this particular debate, it’s best to observe quietly.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, then took a deep breath, and just as the argument seemed to be winding down, she turned back to Jayce with a wide, exaggerated grin. “You know what, Jayce? I’m over this. Over. It.”

Jayce blinked, eyes wide, unsure of what was about to happen. “Wait, what—?”

Before he could say anything else, Y/N, with a flourish of dramatic flair, lifted her shirt up over her head in one swift motion, exposing herself to both Viktor and Jayce. It was completely unexpected—comically bold, really—and the two men froze, their eyes wide with shock.

“Consider this a statement,” Y/N said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she stood there for a heartbeat, fully aware of the chaos she’d just caused. “I’m done with the ‘fluid’ argument, and this... this is my final word on the matter.”

Jayce’s jaw dropped open, his face turning beet red as he scrambled to find words but found himself utterly speechless. Viktor, equally stunned but far more composed, blinked a few times, trying to figure out if this was a new form of communication he hadn't been briefed on. Both men just stared, caught completely off guard by the sudden shift in their bickering.

Y/N, however, seemed completely unaffected by the sudden stillness in the room. She swiftly pulled her shirt back down and gave them a cool look. “There,” she said. “Now, let’s call it a draw.” Her voice was sweetly final, like she’d just wrapped up a perfectly executed prank.

“I’m done,” she repeated, her tone now softer, almost sweet as she turned on her heel. “See you guys later.”

She walked out of the room with an exaggerated sway in her hips, leaving the two men in a state of stunned silence.

Jayce blinked a few times, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process what had just happened. Finally, he found his voice, though it was laced with confusion and disbelief. “What just happened?”

Viktor sighed, his gaze lingering on the door through which Y/N had exited. He shook his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I think... she’s trying to make a point,” he said, his voice deadpan but with a hint of amusement. He glanced at Jayce, who was still frozen in place, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “You’re not going to chase her, are you?”

Jayce’s eyes widened, his face flushing even more. “I... I don’t even know where to start,” he muttered, clearly unsure how to react.

Viktor’s lips twitched upward. “Probably with the fact that you two are way too invested in stabilization fluid,” he said dryly, leaning back on the couch, adjusting his cane with a nonchalant air. “This isn’t the first time she’s done something like this. I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.”

Jayce’s face turned a deep shade of crimson. “She... flashed us,” he said, still struggling to comprehend what had just occurred. “And then... she just walked away.”

Viktor nodded, his tone unbothered but with a dry edge. “And I suspect that’s the most serious argument resolution you’ll ever get with her.”

Jayce, still staring at the door, let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. “So... do we just... leave it?”

Viktor let out a soft sigh, his expression shifting to one of quiet understanding. He raised an eyebrow, giving Jayce a pointed look. “She’s made her point. Let it go.”

For a moment, Jayce stood frozen, then suddenly, as if realizing the absurdity of the situation was too much to let slide, he snapped his gaze to Viktor. They shared a look—something unspoken passing between them—before, almost simultaneously, they both jumped to their feet, scrambling in a chaotic attempt to chase after Y/N.

Neither of them knew exactly what to say when they caught up to her, but the silence in the room before had been broken, and they both knew they couldn’t let this end without a proper... conversation.

And with that, they both rushed after her, leaving the apartment in a whirlwind of hasty steps and confusion.

VANDER

The Last Drop was packed tonight. The familiar hum of conversation mixed with the clinking of glasses, a cacophony of voices that filled the smoky air. But at the corner of the bar, the mood was anything but light. Vander and Y/N were locked in a heated argument, their voices cutting through the noise like daggers.

"I told you, Y/N," Vander’s voice was low, measured, though it carried a weight of frustration that was unmistakable. His hands were planted firmly on the table, knuckles white, as if he were trying to steady himself. "That wasn’t the right call. You can’t keep running off like that. You’re not some stray that can just—"

"God, Vander, you don’t get it!" Y/N snapped, her eyes flashing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she leaned in slightly, matching his intensity. "I'm not some child! I don't need you to babysit me!" She emphasized the word with a sneer, clearly irritated by the insinuation.

Vander straightened up, his muscles tensing. "I’m not babysitting you!" he shot back, voice rising ever so slightly, the frustration slipping into his tone. "I’m trying to protect you, damn it! You can’t just go off on your own and think everything’s going to be fine. You’re not invincible, Y/N!" He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers, piercing through her defences. "You always think you know better—"

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head, her frustration only mounting. "I don’t always think I know better, Vander," she retorted, her voice biting, but a little hurt now too. "But I’m not some helpless fool, okay? I know how to handle myself, and I don’t need you holding my hand every damn time."

The words hung heavy in the air between them, both of them standing firm, unwilling to give an inch. But as the seconds passed, something in Y/N snapped. She was tired of the argument, tired of the endless back-and-forth that went nowhere. And in that moment, she wanted to end it, one way or another.

Before Vander could speak again, Y/N’s eyes narrowed in defiance. Without warning, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it up, just enough to flash him — just enough to make him freeze in his tracks. The bare skin, the curve of her chest, was all a challenge. Her eyes never left his, and a mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

Vander was momentarily dumbfounded, his words dying on his tongue. His breath caught, his gaze glued to her for a split second, but the intensity in her eyes kept him rooted. She was playing a dangerous game, and Vander wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.

Y/N quickly pulled her shirt back down, her smirk widening as she took a step back, feeling the power shift in the room. "Well, that shut you up, didn’t it?" she said, her voice laced with amusement and a touch of smugness. "I’m done with this." She turned on her heel, walking away from the argument, leaving Vander standing there, still processing what had just happened.

For a moment, Vander just stood there, his mind reeling from the boldness of her move. His jaw tightened, his fists clenched, but then the weight of the situation hit him. She wasn’t going to walk away like that. Not from him.

Before Y/N could make it to the door, Vander moved. His reflexes were quick, almost too quick to register. In one swift motion, he reached out, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her effortlessly over his shoulder.

"Vander, what the hell?!" Y/N exclaimed, half-laughing, half-protesting as she was hoisted up. She was still so caught off guard by the flash of boldness between them, and now this.

"You’ve had enough of this nonsense," Vander muttered, his voice rough, but there was a playful edge to it. "We’re not doing this here. Not in front of all these people."

Y/N's breath hitched as she squirmed slightly, her legs kicking playfully. "Oh, come on, you’re seriously carrying me off like a sack of potatoes?"

Vander’s arms were firm, his grip like iron as he maneuvered through the Last Drop with ease, ignoring the curious glances of the few patrons who happened to notice. He was focused, determined, and Y/N’s protests only made him more resolute.

"You’re not getting away this time," he grumbled, his voice a low growl that stirred something within her. "And you're damn lucky I didn’t just drag you out of here by your hair."

Y/N couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh. "Are you really going to take me upstairs, like this? Is this how you solve all your problems?"

Vander smirked, his large, muscled frame moving with the ease of someone who had no intention of letting her escape his grasp. "I’m solving the problem you caused," he teased, though there was a deep, dark chuckle in his voice that sent a shiver down her spine. "Now, stop squirming. We’re getting this sorted."

She looked up at him as they reached the staircase, her gaze locking onto his. "Sorted? And how exactly do you plan to sort this, Vander?" she asked, her voice dripping with curiosity and challenge.

Vander’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening as he took the stairs two at a time. "I’m going to show you why you shouldn’t mess with me when I’m like this," he murmured, the words heavy with intent.

Y/N’s heart raced as they reached the top of the stairs, her pulse quickening. She didn’t need to ask him what he meant. The tension between them, the electricity in the air, said it all. The argument was long forgotten, replaced with the kind of fire that could only be quenched in silence.

As Vander carried her into the bedroom, his movements slow and deliberate, the last remnants of their bickering melted away. Y/N didn’t fight him anymore. She let him take the lead, the heat between them rising with every step.

=

The door to the bedroom closed behind them, and the world outside seemed to fall away. The lights of the Last Drop were distant now, a memory.

Vander placed her down, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her closer. Y/N’s defiance turned into something more urgent, a silent agreement between them. Her lips found his, and all the words that had been thrown in anger were forgotten.

Vander’s hands were everywhere now, exploring the curve of her body with possessive intent. Y/N responded in kind, her breath shallow, a soft gasp escaping her as she pulled him closer, urging him on.

The rest of the night was just them — no more arguments, no more words. Only the heat of their bodies pressed together, and the warmth of everything they hadn’t yet said, only felt.

SILCO

The heated words in Silco’s office hung in the air, swirling with frustration and irritation. Y/N stood by the large desk, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glared at him. "You don't get it, Silco. I've told you a thousand times, I don't need your protection!" Her voice had an edge to it, the words sharp and punctuated with an annoyance that had been growing all evening.

Silco leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrests, his amber eyes cold and calculating. He watched her carefully, noting the anger in her posture and the defiance in her gaze. "You think I don't know what's best for you, Y/N?" he responded, his voice low and steady, but carrying an edge of frustration. "You think I don't see how dangerous it is out there? How easy it would be for someone to hurt you when you're not looking? I'm doing what I can to keep you safe, and you're making this more difficult than it needs to be."

"I don’t need you controlling everything in my life!" Y/N snapped, her voice rising, the tension crackling in the small space between them. She turned slightly, pacing in front of the desk, her boots clicking against the floor. "I can handle myself. I'm not some fragile thing you have to protect at every turn."

Silco’s eyes darkened, a rare flash of something like frustration flickering across his usually controlled features. "I’m not controlling you, Y/N. I’m keeping you alive." His voice dropped, a growl of exasperation edging into his words. "This is different. I don't have the luxury of letting you wander around without thinking about the consequences. Everything I do, I do because I care."

Y/N’s hands clenched into fists, her jaw tightening. “I don't need your care to survive, Silco," she bit out, her eyes flashing with frustration. "You don't get it. I don’t need you to watch over me like I’m some pet. I'm more than capable of making my own choices—whether you like them or not."

The silence between them stretched, thick with tension. Silco’s gaze remained unwavering, but Y/N could see the muscles in his jaw flexing. There was something in the way he looked at her, like he was calculating his next move.

But Y/N had had enough. The argument was going nowhere, and she could feel the weight of it pressing down on her. So, in a sudden, bold move, she pulled her shirt up over her head, flashing him her chest for a brief moment before quickly pulling it back down. "There," she said, her voice dripping with challenge and a teasing edge. "Is that what you wanted? Something to shut you up?"

The look on Silco’s face was one of disbelief for a moment—then something darker. His amber eyes narrowed, a possessive heat flickering in their depths. His gaze traced her for just a second longer than necessary, as if committing every detail of the moment to memory.

Before she could even turn away, Silco’s chair screeched as he shot to his feet. His movements were fluid and predatory, and in an instant, he was behind her. His hands were on her, pulling her back against him with a force that stole the breath from her lungs. One hand landed firmly on her chest, his fingers splayed across her sternum, anchoring her in place.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Silco growled, his voice a low, dangerous warning that vibrated through her. His other hand slid around her waist, pulling her firmly against him as his lips brushed against her ear. “You’re mine. Don’t forget it.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, the heat of his presence overwhelming her senses. She didn’t fight the grip he had on her; instead, she leaned back against him, feeling the tension in his body and the possessiveness radiating off him. "I wasn’t trying to make you forget it," she murmured, her tone softening but still laced with a playful challenge. "But if you’re going to keep being an asshole, maybe I’ll keep reminding you in my own way."

Silco let out a low, dark chuckle. The sound sent a shiver down her spine, but it didn’t feel like laughter; it was possessiveness, a warning, and something else—something far more dangerous. His grip tightened around her, pulling her even closer to him. “You’ve got a way of getting under my skin, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice a velvet threat. “But if you want to play like that, we’ll have to establish some rules.”

Her pulse quickened at the way he spoke, at the promise of more to come. She tilted her head back, her eyes meeting his over her shoulder with a challenging smirk. "I think the only rule here is you’re not allowed to keep me at arm’s length. Not anymore."

Silco exhaled sharply, his breath warm against the nape of her neck. His hand remained firmly on her chest, his thumb grazing the skin just above the swell of her breast, a touch both possessive and intimate. “And you think you’re the one calling the shots now?” His voice was rough, his words carrying an edge that sent a thrill through her.

“Maybe,” she teased, her voice light, but there was an undeniable confidence in it. She was pushing his buttons, testing the limits, but she wasn’t scared. Not of him. “But you’ll always come back to me, won’t you, Silco?”

His grip on her tightened, pulling her a fraction closer until she was pressed fully against his chest. His lips brushed against her ear, and he let out a soft growl of approval, his hand sliding down to the small of her back, anchoring her even further against him. “You’re damn right I will,” he whispered, his voice dark and thick with desire.

He kissed the nape of her neck, the gesture tender yet fierce, as if marking her as his. The tension in the room shifted, and for a moment, the argument seemed to be forgotten, replaced with the simmering, possessive energy that was always between them. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as he laid another kiss against her skin, this one deeper, more possessive.

“I’ll never let you go,” Silco muttered, his lips brushing against her skin as he pulled her even closer, his hands firm on her body. "Not now, not ever."

Y/N could feel the weight of his words settle between them, and in that moment, the fight was over. They might have clashed, but there was no denying that, in the end, they would always come back to each other.

SEVIKA

In the dimly lit apartment nestled deep within the industrial heart of Zaun, Y/N and Sevika were locked in yet another heated argument. The air between them crackled with tension, the words they exchanged sharp and biting. The walls of their small living space, battered by the passing years and countless skirmishes, seemed to echo their frustration. Makeshift repairs, old scorch marks, and the remnants of past disputes decorated their surroundings, making it clear that this was a home built with love, but also with a fair share of conflict.

Y/N, standing with her arms crossed in front of her, seethed with impatience. "Seriously, Sevika? I’m tired of this! We keep going around in circles, and nothing ever changes!" She took a few steps back, her eyes narrowing, clearly losing her patience. "You always say you're trying to help, but you just end up making everything worse!"

Sevika, her posture as imposing as ever, met the criticism head-on, her fists clenched at her sides. "What the hell are you talking about? You don’t even give me a chance to—" She stopped herself, jaw tightening. "You know I’m just trying to protect you, right?"

Y/N’s eyes flashed with a mix of anger and hurt. "Protect me?" She scoffed, shaking her head. "You’re not protecting me, Sevika. You’re smothering me. I’m not some delicate little thing you need to shield from everything!"

Sevika’s nostrils flared, her face reddening as she took a step forward, almost daring Y/N to challenge her. "Oh, so now I’m smothering you? Is that how you see it?" Her voice rose, louder than before. "All I do is worry about you. I keep you safe—"

"I don’t need you to keep me safe!" Y/N snapped, cutting her off. "I can take care of myself! I know how to fight. I know how to survive in this hellhole!" Her chest rose and fell with each heated breath. "Why can’t you trust me to handle things on my own for once?"

Sevika’s face twisted with frustration. "I do trust you! But you’re always pushing me away! You don’t understand how dangerous this life is—how dangerous Zaun is. I’ve seen it all. I know what it does to people, and I don’t want it to do that to you!" She threw her hands up, exasperated. "You keep acting like I’m the one who’s making everything worse, but I’m just trying to keep you alive!"

Y/N’s jaw tightened, her frustration boiling over. "I don’t need saving, Sevika! You’re not the only one who knows what it’s like out here. You think I don’t see the blood, the wreckage? But I’m not gonna hide away in some corner while you try to wrap me up in cotton wool! This is my life too!"

The words hung in the air, charged and heavy. Sevika stared at her, eyes blazing, her emotions raw. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken things. Y/N’s breathing slowed, but the sting of their disagreement lingered.

"I’m not asking you to hide away," Sevika said finally, her voice quieter, though still laced with tension. "I just… I just want to know you’re safe. That’s all. I can’t lose you, Y/N."

For a moment, Y/N stood still, her heart softening at Sevika’s words, but then the sharpness of their ongoing conflict crept back in. "I’m not some fragile thing that needs constant babysitting. Just let me handle my own shit for once."

The frustration, the hurt, and the exhaustion from their endless back-and-forth were starting to make Y/N feel like she might break. And then, just as quickly as it all came crashing down, something inside her shifted. She could feel the weight of the argument pressing down on her shoulders, and the last thing she wanted was for this to drag on any longer.

With a glint of mischief sparking in her eyes, Y/N suddenly yanked her shirt up over her head, flashing Sevika her chest in one swift, surprising motion. The move caught Sevika off guard, her eyes widening as the tension in the room shifted in an entirely different direction.

Sevika froze, her expression one of complete shock, the words dying in her throat. "Wait, what?!"

Y/N smirked, her eyes gleaming with a playful defiance, and without missing a beat, she dropped her shirt back down, smoothing it out as if nothing had happened. "I’m done with this, Sevika. Let’s talk when you’re done pouting."

She turned away, starting to walk toward the bedroom with a sense of finality, her steps light and breezy, as if she hadn’t just made a bold statement. But Sevika wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

Sevika stood frozen for a moment, still processing what had just happened. Her face flushed red, a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and... something else she couldn’t quite name. Then, without warning, she rushed after Y/N, calling out in a half-teasing, half-whining voice, "Hey! Don’t just walk away! I wanna see them again!"

Y/N chuckled softly to herself as she heard Sevika’s voice behind her, the frustration in her chest slowly melting away. She had no intention of letting this go so easily. But as soon as she reached the bedroom, Sevika was on her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her onto the bed with surprising strength.

Before Y/N could say anything, Sevika had climbed over her, pinning her gently to the mattress. The playful grin on her face was almost too much to resist. "You can’t just leave me hanging like that, Y/N."

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, the familiar warmth of Sevika’s presence calming her nerves. Sevika rested her head on Y/N’s chest, hands softly resting on her stomach, her face content but still pouting slightly. "You’re impossible," Y/N muttered, running her fingers through Sevika’s messy hair, an affectionate smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

Sevika looked up at her, her eyes wide and playful, her lips curving into a soft smile. "I know. But you love me." Her voice was almost a plea, as if she were daring Y/N to deny it.

Y/N couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her lips, the warmth in her chest spreading. She pulled Sevika closer, wrapping her arms around her, cradling her against her body. "Yeah, I do."

Sevika sighed contentedly, settling into Y/N’s embrace, the argument forgotten. The air around them seemed to soften, the weight of their disagreements lifting as they lay together, tangled in sheets and the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. For now, there were no more fights, no more words—just the peace of being together.

[crowfish-brainrot]

Facing the Consequences Part 1

Mistakes Were Made, and now its time for you to start Facing the Consequences. Emotions run high as your involvement with each of the men is revealed, because casual was never something that would last. This is gonna be messy, but it will end in a healthy (poly!) place!

CONTENT NOTES FOR ALL PARTS: 18+ MDNI. LaDs men x MC (you), Casual Sex, Pre-relationship, Complicated Feelings All Around. Smut & Angst. Smut with Feelings. No use of Y/N. Possibly ooc bc I'm still getting back into fanfic. Oral f&m receiving, p in v, unprotected sex bc its fiction, creampies, softdom!Xavier, brattamer!Zayne, brattyswitch!Rafayel, switch!Sylus, dom!Caleb brattyswitch!MC, but it's all fluid imo. light bond*ge, sp*nking, size difference, overstimulation, improper use of evol, semi-public sex. Nicknames used in all parts: canon nicknames as well as bunny, princess, love, & darling. F reader. MC is described as being curvy and strong with some fuller titties bc I love titties. Will eventually have MMF+. Unedited. You get this raw (just like our Lads!)

*spoilers for the end of Zayne's branch in Death & Rebirth. Zayne & MC need to process their feelings.

Zayne (this part) | Sylus | Zayne & Caleb | Xavier | Rafayel

The rest of your time with Caleb moved too slowly. You couldn't escape the awkwardness lingering between the two of you. He didn't want to talk about it, so of course, you'd let it slide. He'd done that more often, recently. With everything. You didn't want to fight your best friend, so you didn't put up a fight. Not for the small things. This didn't feel small, though.

He watched you come two nights ago. Came all over his hand. Then, he pretended nothing happened. Saw you the next morning with a smile and breakfast like nothing changed. You tried to talk about it, and yet, he refused to address the lines the two of you crossed. As Sunday drew to a close and you prepared your things to leave, a lump formed in your throat. Was it fair to keep visiting Caleb when you knew how much your actions with the other men would hurt him?

You looked at your phone and sighed. Maybe you could ask Zayne to call himself your boyfriend when you three had dinner later this week. As a sign to Caleb that whatever weird nights happened between you both were over. Put some distance back between you so you could preserve your friendship without crossing any lines. Maybe he'd move on, and all would be fine.

Your stomach sank when you thought of Caleb with another woman. Heat roiled through your blood as you shoved the dress you wore yesterday into your bag. You rolled your eyes at yourself. You were acting like a hypocrite. Four other men rotated in and out of your bed, and none of them stuck to the 'casual' thing too well. How could you not want the same thing for any of these men, if you were doing it to them?

You grabbed the rest of your clothes, and the underwear you wore last night slipped out. You'd used your toy again, this time without an audience, and came in your panties. They needed to be washed. Yet, you thought back to the time you caught Caleb with yours. How his eyes fluttered when he inhaled your scent. I shouldn't, but...

You couldn't lose him, not to anyone. You couldn't lose any of them. So, even if it made you a terrible person, you left a small sign for Caleb by leaving your dirty panties on the floor in the bathroom. Maybe your next visit to Skyhaven would make you bolder. Maybe then you could talk about all the things you hadn't yet voiced. Or maybe, you'd both make a mistake you couldn't come back from.

Caleb was fragile. Scared. You didn't want to hurt him, but you also couldn't bring yourself to let him go. With your bag packed, you hurried out into the living room.

"I hate that you're leavin' already," Caleb said as he opened his arms for a hug. Big, sad violet eyes met yours, and something in your chest cracked.

"Me too, but we'll see each other again soon." You hugged him. He was strong. Stable. Something about his scent and the feel of his strong arms around you resonated as home. You didn't want to lose this. Caleb was your one and only constant thing throughout your life. Living without him around sucked. You didn't want to do that again.

"Are you going to make it to our catch-up dinner with Zayne at my place?" you asked.

"Yeah." His arms tightened around you. "It's been a long time since the three of us have hung out. It'll be good to see him again."

Caleb's words dripped with sarcasm, and for the nth time you wondered what exactly happened between them to destroy their friendship. Zayne was once as close to Caleb as you were. The last time they saw each other, it didn't go over well, and you hoped this time it would be peaceful.

Caleb dropped you off at the station, and a few hours later, you were back in Linkon. Zayne picked you up in his sleek black car. He took your bag for you and set it in his trunk. After your last mission together and the resulting chaos, he was on an extended administrative leave from the hospital. Things were still...strange between you two. He still blamed himself for hurting you, and you were still a little upset with him for trying to leave with no explanation for the second time.

Things between you and Zayne resolved itself for the most part, but a small part of you was terrified he'd vanish. Again. That maybe he regretted what you two had done. Maybe he wasn't only worried about hurting you physically, but emotionally, too, when he eventually grew tired of this arrangement.

"You're quiet," Zayne murmured as he drove down the road back to his place. "Did something happen in Skyhaven?" His voice grew cold and dangerous. "Did Caleb try to lock you away again?"

Your pussy pulsed. You always found Zayne hot, because, well, he looked like that. The all black coat he wore when he got all murderous did even more for you than his lab coat. You almost came when he shot a gun. Dangerous Zayne was a rare sight, and gods, you loved it. Loved when he got protective over you. You blinked away the horny thoughts and cleared your throat.

"No. Caleb was great, actually. We built a few models and visited some of the museums up there. It was nice." You intentionally omitted the bit about how Caleb caught you masturbating. It wasn't relevant. "He agreed to come down for dinner on Tuesday."

Zayne sighed. "I will be there. It is not like there is much else I am doing with my time right now."

You took his hand and placed a kiss on the back of his palm. A sign that you were still here. You were okay, and you didn't hold your new scars against him. Not now. Not ever. He squeezed your hand in a silent reply, and that was enough. For now.

He didn't let go of your hand until he parked the car. His touch was gone only long enough to open your door for you, then he took your hand again. He pulled your bag out of his trunk, then he led you inside.

You spent most weekends at Zayne's place, usually staying with him Saturday night through Monday morning. Xavier slept through most weekends unless you made plans. Sylus picked you up every Monday and Thursday night, sometimes for a mission, sometimes just to go for a joyride, and Rafayel consumed every Friday through Saturday afternoon. You spent the rest of your time working or hanging out with Xavier. Each time you went over to their houses, you left something behind. Little signs that you were there, and it made each of their places feel more and more like yours, too.

The plushies in a pile on Zayne's couch were your doing, but he didn't seem to mind. He set your bag by the door and led you into the kitchen. Something was already cooking, and the rich spices filled the air. His quiet, careful awareness of you and what you needed never failed to make your chest feel all warm and tingly.

You ate dinner together and talked about every mundane thing in your lives. He discussed the books he read recently, all technical with long names you couldn't recall if you tried, and how he found himself bored when you weren't around. You told him about the wanderers you faced while Xavier was away, and complained about the sheer volume of reports you had to do when you went into work tomorrow. Spending time like this with Zayne was so domestic, yet natural. Like your lives were always meant to land here, with the two of you eating dinner under the setting late-spring sunlight pouring inside.

You offered to clean up, but Zayne insisted you go shower instead to wash the day off your skin. You protested, but he gave you one sharp look, and you grabbed your shower stuff from your bag and went to his bathroom. A shower steamer in your favorite scent waited for you on the counter along with a fresh set of comfortable pale-blue pjs. Travel-size versions of your favorite skincare products rested on a small dish by the sink, and your heart squeezed all over again.

Half an hour later, you were fresh from the shower, your hair half-damp and dressed in the soft sleepwear. While you showered, Zayne set up a game of kitty cards and a movie you'd seen a hundred times played softly on the TV.

While you two swore it was casual, sitting in his living room in pjs he bought you after eating a quiet dinner together didn't feel casual. Sitting in the warmth of his home, while he gave you soft little smirks each time you batted your eyelashes at him felt like he was your partner. Someone you could see yourself doing this with every Sunday night, and that made your heart sink. Not because you didn't want it, but because you did. You wanted him but you didn't want to lose the others. You wanted them all as yours, despite the complications that would cause.

"Whatever is on your mind, I hope you know you can tell me." Zayne set his cards down and reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "Are you...upset with me?"

Your heart clenched and you shook your head. "No. I told you before, I'm not upset with you. I'm..."

You struggled to find the words, but Zayne didn't push. He waited for you, his hold grounding your thoughts. "I guess I'm wondering how casual this really is, and what it means for us if this isn't casual anymore."

"It can mean anything you want," he said. "Our friendship comes first to me. If you don't want me to return to your bed, I won't."

"It's not that," you said, maybe too quickly. Zayne chuckled a little, his chest puffing up. You squeezed his hand and tried to figure out what to say next. "I want you, and I like what we have. I just don't want to complicate it, but it is complicated."

"How is it complicated?"

You braced yourself. You didn't want to lie to Zayne, but the truth was terrifying. Would he hate you forever if you confessed the truth?

Zayne broke the silence first. "You also have feelings for someone else."

"I..." You couldn't deny it, so your words died on your tongue.

"Caleb?" he guessed.

You nodded. "I've always loved him but it's been...different since he came back."

In truth, you had feelings for all five of the men closest to you, but Caleb seemed to be the easiest to explain. Zayne loved him too, once.

"Did anything happen between you two?" Zayne asked.

Your face flushed and you looked down at the table and the forgotten game waiting there. How the fuck would you explain what happened, but also didn't happen between you and Caleb?

Zayne hummed, the sound thoughtful. "Did this happen before or after you sent me those lovely pictures, darling?"

The heat on your cheeks expanded to your ears, then down your chest. You swallowed hard unable to answer the question around the lump in your throat.

"Look at me."

You brought your eyes up to his. Zayne's expression was as unreadable as ever, his face in schooled neutrality. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, unsure of how to explain. Finally, you forced the word out. "Before."

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. Tension rose in the air, crackling with electricity. You had no idea what he was thinking, so you didn't try to guess. You squirmed in your seat, unsure of what to do with yourself.

"Did you bring that toy with you like I asked?"

Your stomach flipped and your thighs clenched together. "Yes, sir."

"Grab it and wait for me in the bedroom," he said, his voice icy.

Oh, Zayne was about to be mean. Your wetness soaked through your thin panties. It took you a solid thirty seconds to register what he said. Zayne raised a brow, only slightly. He wasn't one to repeat himself. Unless you used your safe word, he wouldn't explain what he planned to do to you. You swallowed as you pushed yourself up on trembling legs. You did as you were told, moving quickly through his living room. You made your way to his bedroom, and you didn't dare look at him as you sat yourself at the edge of the bed.

Zayne had rules for you. Most of them were simple rules. Drink water. Get enough rest. Eat meals at regular hours. Don't be reckless. Others were specific to the bedroom. When you waited for him in bed, you were supposed to be naked and on your knees with your hands behind your back. He usually told you to wait for him like that, though, so you weren't sure if you should keep your clothes on or not.

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt and decided you'd at least get out of most of your clothes. You stripped the matching set and folded both pieces into a pile and set them out of the way. Only in a thin pair of panties, you kneeled on the bed, the vibrator in front of you, and your hands behind your back.

Zayne came in half an eternity later. Fully dressed, the only thing different came in the way he rolled his sleeves up, showing off his toned, scarred forearms.

"Color?" he asked, checking in on you.

"Green," you said, giving him the go-ahead to continue. Zayne never hurt you or pushed you beyond what you could take. You trusted him with your life, and that wasn't going to change. Whatever he did to you, if it was a punishment or simply staking his claim, you welcomed it all. As long as it came from him.

He took several steps closer to you, taking off his glasses. He stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at you with a stern expression. When he finally spoke, his voice was sharp. "Did he touch you?"

You shook your head. "No, sir."

"Ah, so he watched you use your fancy new toy," Zayne said.

"Yes, sir."

"Let me see then, darling. Play with your pussy for me. Give me a show."

Goosebumps broke out along your arms as you did as you were told. You picked up the toy and laid back on the bed. Your eyes never left his face as your fingers trailed to the apex of your thighs. You rubbed your clit slowly over your panties, warming yourself up before you turned on your vibrator.

"Take those off. Now," Zayne commanded.

You lifted your hips to take your panties off, then your fingers got back to work. Dipping inside your soaking cunt and bringing the wetness there to your clit where you rubbed in small circles. Zayne stayed in place, his gaze locked on the way your fingers moved.

You clicked the vibrator on, and you knew Sylus would get a notification. He knew you were home now. Would he guess you were with another lover? Would he stoke his cock thinking about it, like Zayne was right now?

Your breath hitched as Zayne's cock came into view. Hard, thick, and throbbing, you licked your lips as a bit of pre seeped out from his tip. He stroked himself in measured, controlled strokes that were so similar to how he fucked you until you forced his control to slip.

"Zayne!" You moaned his name as you circled the vibrator over your clit, your muscles tightening under the intense pleasure.

"Keep your legs open, love. If you don't, I will tie them down," Zayne said, his voice as calm and cool as ever. If you couldn't see how hard he was or the pink flush over his cheeks, you would've believed he was unaffected.

You bit your lip and spread your legs wider, willing them to stay down on either side of you as the vibrator worked you closer and closer to your peak. It came on too fast under Zayne's intense stare. His calm, dominant presence looming over you from the end of the bed was more than enough to keep you pinned in place and obedient.

Wetness coated your inner thighs and pooled under you. The vibrator made the squelching sounds of your wetness more pronounced. You whimpered as you fought to maintain enough self-control to keep your legs open despite the building pleasure. Any other time, you would've disobeyed Zayne on purpose, but with the look in his eye right now, you bet you already pushed your luck far enough.

"Zayne, please. Can I come, please?" you begged, your voice high and breathless.

"No." Zayne stroked his cock at the same leisurely pace, slow and steady. Restrained.

You whined, a pitiful little sound, but you knew from his tone that begging would only make it worse. Your breath hitched as you struggled to keep control of yourself. To give him the show he asked for.

"It feels so good. I'm trying so hard to be a good girl for you, sir, but fuck. I'm so close, so, so close." Your back arched off the bed, and a moan caught in your throat. Rocked your hips up into the vibrator, chasing the pleasure and making sure he saw just how soaked you were.

"Don't you dare come, darling. Not until I say so. Be my good girl and do as your told," he said.

You moaned his name over and over again, getting lost in the sensation as you tried your hardest not to come. You could barely think around the pleasure, barely breathe. He hadn't touched you, yet every nerve in your body was a live wire, sizzling beneath your skin as the vibrator tore you to the peak of your release.

Your vision went hazy as your eyes fluttered closed, unable to keep them open under the force of the pleasure. You were so lost in trying not to come, you didn't notice Zayne until little flecks of ice melted on your overheated skin.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice stern.

You did as you were told, your eyes going wide when you met his gaze. He stripped bare, his muscular arms bracketed you under his big body. His thighs settled between yours, his big cock so close to your entrance, but still too far. He held himself up with one arm, and his free hand went back to his cock, stroking himself at a faster pace. Each stroke brought his long fingers so achingly close to your dripping cunt, and your head spun.

Your free hand dropped the sheets and clutched onto his bicep for dear life. Torn between the dark lust in his beautiful hazel eyes and just how close his cock was to where you needed him, you couldn't decide where to look. His breathing became more erratic, staggered almost as his gaze locked on your wet cunt. Each circle of your vibrator over your clit splattered some of your wetness onto his hand, onto his cock, and he shuddered above you.

Flurries of frost danced over your heated skin, adding more sensation to your already overwhelmed nerves. You moaned his name again, so close your entire body hummed with need.

Zayne cursed under his breath, then he notched his cock at your entrance. All thoughts vanished from your mind the moment his cock slipped inside you. You were so wet he met no resistance, slipping in to the base in one smooth roll of his hips. His pelvis pinned your vibrator in place, and it took every ounce of your restraint to not come.

Your pussy fluttered wildly around his cock, but you clenched tight, trying to keep the pleasure limited despite the ache building in your core. Your arms tangled around his neck and your thighs locked around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. You needed him to cover you, to cage you in, to finally let go of enough of his control to fuck you in the way you needed.

"Poor girl, you want to come so badly, don't you?" He asked, his voice teasing. "I can feel you squeezing my cock."

"Yes!" You dug your nails down his back, clawing at his skin. "I need to come. Please."

"You're doing so good for me, love. You're listening so well, being such a good girl." Zayne kissed the center of your chest, then rolled his hips. One hand cradled the back of your neck, the other stayed on the bed, keeping him upright as he fucked into you. His lips worked up your chest, wrapping around one nipple, then the next, before inching up to your neck. He pressed hot, wet kisses there, each one bringing you higher and higher. "Good girls deserve rewards, don't they?"

"Yes, sir!" you whined, rocking up into him.

His lips hovered over your pulse point, and his voice was low and dark in your ear. "Come for me."

With permission granted, you let go and came with a scream of his name, your throat raw from the force of the sound he pulled out of you. Zayne bit down on your neck as you came, and you gushed around his cock. Your eyes rolled back as stars exploded across your vision.

His hips started to move, fucking you through your orgasm and barreling you forward to the next. He didn't pull out far, and he kept the vibrator pinned exactly where you needed it. Soon the burn of overstimulation seared through your body, but Zayne wasn't going to stop.

"Thank you, sir! Thank you for letting me come!" you whimpered, halfway remembering your manners.

Zayne chuckled, the tone promising danger. "You're so sweet when I've put you in your place. Keep coming for me, darling. Don't stop."

He fucked you with firm, deep thrusts that pushed the air out of your lungs. He pressed against your cervix, and the added pressure only made you needier, more desperate to come again and again. You dug your nails into his shoulders, and you came a second time. Tears pooled in your eyes from the intensity, and Zayne moaned into your neck.

"That's it love. Just like that, good girl. Let me hear you."

You cried out his name, clutching to him like he was the only thing tethering you to reality. A hand slipped between your bodies, and you expected him to turn off the vibrator, but instead he clicked it to a higher speed setting.

"Zayne!" you screamed, your body convulsing as the wave of pleasure barely had the time to settle before it returned with a vengeance, your nerves fried and suffering from just how good it all felt.

"That's the sound I'm looking for. Keep screaming my name just like that. You're mine, aren't you?" Zayne bit your breast and sucked.

"Yes! I'm yours, Zayne. Yours!" you babbled your agreement, because it was true. You belonged to Zayne in the same way he belonged to you, and at this moment, you had no room for any thoughts but him and the way he made you feel.

He groaned into your skin and his thrusts grew rougher, more erratic. Every deep roll of his hips sent you deeper and deeper into bliss, narrowing your awareness only to Zayne and how he consumed all your senses. You came for the fourth(fifth?) time with another scream, any words now reduced to broken sobs.

Zayne followed behind you a moment later, thrusting in as far as he could go, the head of his cock pressed against your cervix as he came inside you, right where you wanted him. Where you needed him. Aftershocks trembled through you as hot come painted your insides with every firm throb of his cock. He reached between you and clicked off the vibrator, but left it there as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

You relaxed your fingers on his shoulders as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart hammered in your chest as you breathed with him.

Zayne pressed a kiss to your temple. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"

You shook your head, words still too hard to form to speak properly. He smoothed down your hair and slowly eased out of you. You both hissed from the sensation. He squeezed your hand and slowly got up. You were too blissed out to pay too much attention. He came back a moment later with a glass of ice water and a warm cloth. He cleaned up the mess between your thighs with gentleness, then helped you sit up so you could drink the water.

He got in bed beside you, and pulled you against his chest. He rubbed soothing circles on your back and whispered soft praises to you. Already boneless from the pleasure, you melted into him and soaked up all of his warmth.

You came back to the moment slowly, and you nuzzled into his hold. Satiated and content. Zayne held you in the quiet for several minutes, letting you soak in the bliss and affection.

"I know we are not exclusive," Zayne said after awhile, his voice low in the darkness of his bedroom. "However, to say that I don't have feelings for you would be a lie. Right now our schedules work, but when I go back to the hospital..."

"I know," you said.

"All I want is for you to be safe and happy. You are my dearest friend, and that will never change." Zayne clutched you close and planted a kiss on the top of your head. "Are you...seeing anyone else?"

"I am."

He stiffened a little at your words, but he took a deep breath and relaxed a moment later. "Thank you for being honest with me."

He didn't ask any further questions and you didn't offer any further information. With things unlikely to change, you embraced the moment you had together. Whatever feelings lingered on both ends, you were both too exhausted to talk about it now.

The rest of the night was filled with a shower, sleepy snuggles, and soft words. You both woke up early the next morning to stop for coffee and sweets before Zayne dropped you off at home. It was so normal between you that you almost forgot about what you told Zayne.

Pre-dawn light reached across the sky as Zayne pulled into your apartment complex. He put the car in park and took your hand in his.

"I respect that you're seeing other people, and I'm not going to limit you. However, I won't lie and say my feelings about it are positive," he said, his voice low.

You winced. "I expected as much. I'm sorry, I should've said something but--"

"No. We aren't exclusive. You don't owe me an explanation." Zayne squeezed your hand. "The only thing I ask is that you give me the day to process my feelings. We need to talk about this more, but I am not ready to. Not yet."

"Are you mad at me?" you asked. Do you hate me for being greedy? was the real question burning on your tongue.

"No." Zayne planted a kiss on your forehead, and the tension coiling in your gut eased. "You did nothing wrong. I just need to think a little. I will text you by tomorrow morning, alright?"

Zayne never lied to you, so you nodded. You leaned over the console and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Be safe," Zayne said.

You hopped out of the car, grabbed your bag, and all but ran inside your apartment building. You answered your missed texts in the elevator.

Sylus wanted confirmation that you were still meeting up with him tonight, and asked about what kept the vibrator on for so long last night. You confirmed your meeting time, and told him to guess with a winking emoji.

Rafayel sent you a wall of text complaining that he had to wait so long to see you, since the "well of inspiration is running dry", and asked once again why you wouldn't just quit being a hunter and work for him full time.

You responded the way you always did when your fishie got into his moods and promised to see him on Thursday. You added a "If you're good, there might be a reward."

Xavier sent you a "proof of life" selfie from wherever he managed to bunk down, complaining about his mission. You lifted your phone to take one of your own, but what you saw in the camera made your cheeks flush.

A dark purple hickey marked the side of your neck. The door dinged and you hurried out of the elevator, rushed into your apartment, then ran to the bathroom to get a closer look. You grabbed your work shirt, and thankfully the collar would cover it. However, the moment it came off, whoever you shared your bed with would know.

For some reason, the thought didn't fill you with dread. You were going to see Sylus tonight and he would probably like the sight of you being greedy. You'd see Zayne again on Tuesday, along with Caleb, and something about having Zayne's mark on your skin for that dinner felt both dangerous and sexy as hell. With ice and massages, it would probably be gone by the time you saw Rafayel, or at least faded enough to pass as a mishap with your flat iron. Xavier would likely sleep for a full day once he got back. and probably wouldn't notice. Probably.

You hid the mark with your hair and took your "proof of life" selfie for Xavier in your bathroom, telling him to be safe and to kill all the Wanderers.

You checked the image six times to make sure the mark was hidden, then sent it off with a sigh. You peeled out of your clothes and turned on the shower. Today was shaping up to be a long day, and it had only just begun.

---

get on the taglist | next part

| masterlist

[woewriting]

bloodlines

pairing: wednesday addams | vampire reader word count: 1595 warnings: mdni, +18 only! blood mention/drinking, reader's a vampire duh, no pronouns used, thigh riding, small master x pet dynamics at the end. a/n: first wdw in weeks... just a small thing for my vampire fellas.

masterlist

Your leg bounced up and down, the almost inaudible sound of the heel of your shoes hitting the wooden floor annoying the girl sitting next to you on the bed, the movements of your legs and the way you chewed on your bottom lip enough to get her annoyed.

Closing the book, Wednesday turned to you, eyes alternating between the irritating move and your features.

“Can you stop with that infuriating sound? It’s distracting me.”

“Uh?” You look at Wednesday, eyes darting from yours to your bouncing leg in a silent answer. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice it.”

“Now that you do, stop it.”

“I can’t control it.”

Wednesday took a deep breath, bringing her hand to rest on top of your knee, forcing you to stop. Somehow, your leg was still shaking under her touch and now, a heatwave spread inside your body at the sudden touch, a bright red color threatening to take over your vision, a sharp pain in your gums.

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to take control over your instincts. But Addams being so close to you with her almost unnoticeable perfume and hand on your thigh, it was hard and any small thing coming from her was enough to get you to lose control.

“You’re starving, aren’t you?” All you could do was nod, not wanting her to see the sharp fangs that sunk on the inside of your mouth. Removing her hand from your leg, you felt a weight being placed on top of your body instead. “Open your eyes, let me take a look at them.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“I wasn’t asking. Open them now and look at me.”

Despise the calming way she spoke, her words and demanding tone were enough to get you to do as you were told, unable to resist the smell she had; It was like a spell placed on you.

Wednesday brought her hands to your face, opening your lips to see the sharp fangs you were hiding, pressing the tip of a finger under one, a single drop of raven blood poking out of the small wound was enough to cover your lower lip with her movement.

“Wends…” You warned with a hoarse voice, controlling the impulse to lick the sweet blood off of your lip.

The dark, silky sheets under your hands ripping off around your nails, stopping you from digging the skin of her waist. Knowing Wednesday, she would definitely make you pay for a new set.

Ignoring the warning timbre in your voice, Wednesday opened her white blouse, dragging the fabric away from her shoulder area along with the strip of her bra.

“Take it.”

“No.”

“If you want to keep that snarky tongue of yours, I suggest you to stop fighting and just do as I am telling you to.”

The second you focused on the cold, pale skin, of her neck, everything around you turned red, melting as you caught the sound of her blood flowing through her body, the steady pace of her heartbeat, muffling every small sound that surrounded the both of you.

All you could hear, see and smell, came from the small girl sitting on your lap. And that was all that matters.

The red, warm, sweet blood that kept her alive. The blood of a Raven, Wednesday being the last one of her bloodline known to you.

Noticing the lack of motion coming from your frozen body, the Addams girl gently tugged you by the back of your head, bringing you closer to her.

“Take it.” She whispered; fingers lost in your hair. “It’s all yours.”

“All mine…” You replied, lost in your red reality, barely processing what left her lips, all you could hear, loud and clear, was the pumping of her jugular, the sweet blood rushing through her veins.

Leaning in, your nose brushed on the cold skin, taking a deep breath. The ghostly touch causing the other to close her eyes. You opened your mouth, enough for the tip of your tongue to touch her, a surprised sigh coming from Wednesday.

“I profoundly hate when you do that.”

“Are you sure? Because I can hear every beat of your heart.” You placed a kissed near her collarbones. “And the way your thighs are pressing against mine.” Another kiss, a little bit higher.

“Stop talking. It’s an order.”

You laughed against her, hands slowly moving from the silky sheets to her thighs. “You’re in no place to boss me around, Addams.”

“I thought you enjoyed being my little pet.”

“I enjoy more when you’re my prey.”

Looking into your eyes, Wednesday could barely see the color of it, dark red mixed with golden strings covering most of your iris, pupils dilated in a black color. The veins under your eyes, disappearing and appearing as if it was following the beat of a music, little did she know it was synchronized with her own heartbeat.

It always felt like that, to be under her spell, if felt paralyzing, something in the way Wednesday smelled and tasted like, so sweet it was like drinking honey.

For her, having your teeth sinking in her neck, poison spreading through your saliva turning the pain into pleasure in just a few seconds. She would never admit, but being your personal blood bag made the pain settle in between her thighs.

She needed you as much as you needed her.

Why else would she sit on your lap and keep you around? Allowing you to follow every single step of hers like a lost puppy, holding you on a tight leash, stopping you from biting others like a misbehaved puppy.

Gulping, she licked her lips, your eyes following every single movement of her body. She felt like an addicted waiting for the next jet of poison, it’s been days since the last time you fed on her.

“Did you drink from somebody else?” You shook your head. You tried to, actually, blood bags, human blood straight from the vein, animal blood that you captured with Eugene’s help; they all tasted like garbage. “Then why are you refusing to do as I tell you to?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

A small grin tugged on her lips. “I want you to hurt me.”

A gush of adrenaline ran in the veins under your eyes the second you heard her whisper, eyes filled with a specific glow that you almost never see in Wednesday: excitement.

The moment your fangs dug in the cold skin, a low moan escaped between Wednesday’s parted lips, the fingers in your hair pulling you impossible closer. The hot, thick red liquid filled your mouth, the iron taste almost unnoticeable, being replaced by a sweet taste that only she had.

Throwing her head back in an attempt to give you more access to her neck, she didn’t even notice that small rhythm her hips were following against your legs, rubbing herself on you. Her scent, stronger than ever, filling every centimeter of your lungs like smoke.

Moving your hands to her hips, you bruised the covered skin as you helped her steady movements. Opening her lips to take a deep breath soon became a breathless moan, your name escaping her parted lips as you drank more and more from her, the poison spreading through her veins as you lick the open wound, capturing what escaped from your hungry mouth before biting her again.

Wednesday was weak in your arms, the hot feeling in the pit of her stomach getting hotter and hotter as she rounded her hips on your leg, a wet stain on the fabric of your jeans as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head and body falling back, being held by your hands.

Switching positions, you laid the small girl on her bed, dark silky sheets embracing her body as you laid on top of her to lick around her neck, not wasting a single drop of the precious blood that you couldn’t go without.

Kissing your way up to her face, Addams still had her eyes closed, a fainted reddish color spread on her cheeks as she came down from her high. When she opened her eyes, she was met with your golden ones, shining like a star in the night sky. She caressed your face, thumb swiping your lips to collect the thick liquid that covered them before gently sucking on them, maintaining the eye contact; a satisfied hum in her throat.

“Kiss me. I want to taste my blood on your tongue.”

As she commanded, you connected your lips together in a kiss that was soft at first, turning to bruising and desperate as her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, lips wrapping around your tongue to get more of it before she breaks the kiss, hands moving to your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confused, as she tried to push you down, but you, being stronger than her, didn’t move an inch.

“I need your tongue somewhere else, and I need it now, so be a good pet and collaborate with me.”

Wednesday was nearly screaming inside, her weak body in desperate need of you, one of the collateral damages from your poison. And the way you smelled, the way your hands touch her body, it was a lot more than just the venom that rushed in her veins, there was something else in the brownish glow that stared at you. You smiled.

“As you wish, master.”