#and it throws her for one hell of a loop

[tonycries]

Bad Things (To You)

Synopsis. Things they just can’t help but do to you in bed that have you feeling too good.

Pairings. Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, bréeding, mating press, oral (female receiving), pússytalking, light pússy-smacking (Toji’s), daddy kínk (Toji’s) cúmplay, squírting, slight exhibitionism (Sukuna’s), bondagé, chokíng, overstím, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.4k

A/N. Was fl@gged n taken down, so here ya go PHEWWWWWWWWW. Also yeah Geto’s I said what I said.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - “Just the tip.” Or?

“T-Toji, I don’t think-”

“Shhh, doll. M’not talking to you…” Toji hums, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. Angling his head just right to watch his aching cock between your legs - red, angry, just teasing your sloppy hole - ramming inside at such a filthy pace. 

Toji really can’t help but drink in your pretty gasps as he edges you closer and closer to- which orgasm was this again? Hell, he can’t even remember, he’s had you on his thighs - on his mouth - on his fingers. Too drunk off of you and those pretty lil’ moans falling from your lips. 

A sinful - flimsy - excuse that had Toji begging to finally put his aching cock in. On his knees, practically with the way he loops two strong arms tighter around your waist. Tight. Reaching down to give your pretty cunt a soft-

Smack!

“Ah! Hngh, what-”

“M’talking to her.”

And you can do nothing but keen, at both the stretch and the way he increases his pace. Giving you such a  taunting kiss on the cheek before talking - not to you, no - to your poor pussy. 

“Your pretty pussy says she can give cum f’me another time.” he grunts. Still just the tip, but already all sloppy desperation and nonsensical babbles. “I know she can. My good girl, no? Gonna cum on my cock?” 

And shit Toji doesn’t think he’s ever been harder than right now. Because one look at you - all teary and gasping deliciously around him, bucking your hips for- mercy? More? has Toji wanting to cum right here. To just plunge his throbbing cock into you and add to that absolutely filthy pool of precum on the sheets below.

But no. He promised, right?

“S’too much- M’so full please.” you beg, pussy quivering with exhaustion because once Toji gets hooked it’s impossible to escape. And you don’t think you’ll make it out alive. 

“Really?” he hums, reaching down to lick those big fat tears streaming down your cheek. “And this is jus’ the tip? Too much for my baby?”

Positively cooing at how cute you were because you might say you can’t give him another one of your sinful little orgasms - but the way you were milking his cock deliriously, nails digging into his slutty waist to pull him closer, told him what he already knew. “She-” Looking down at your ravaged cunt, “-tells me you can.”

It’s all the confirmation Toji needs before he’s hitting your g-spot. Hard. Eyes widening at the way you gasp out a strangled moan of what sounded like his name. Pussy sucking him up so tight it almost hurt. 

Shit. 

Now, Toji’s had enough of playing nice. And he tells you - a little over twenty times, actually, while he slams into you like a man possessed. That promise of “just the tip” being the last thing on his mind while he fucks into you so dangerously deeper and deeper - inch by fucking inch. 

And fuck he thinks he’s never making that promise again because there was no sight like the one of your snug cunt being split apart on his cock. 

“Ya like that, doll?” he’s groaning, hips stuttering so mindlessly. Barely even thinking about getting himself off because fuck Toji needed to see you cum so bad. “See, now I know you can cum f’me again. And-” Toji throws your legs over his sculpted shoulders, thighs burning at the stretch as he bends down down down- “-that slutty pussy of yours is saying that ‘just the tip’ might jus’ not be enough.”

A mating press. Toji Fushiguro had you in a fucking mating press. He was so unfair. Throwing you around like you were nothing but his lil’ plaything. Hissing so lowly against your lips as he bottoms out. Finally. “N’ I think she might jus’ be right.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Good lil’ wife!

There were only two things that had Nanami rushing home after a long day at work - you, and that pretty lil’ pussy of yours. 

The difference? Well, maybe it was the way Nanami had you bent over the kitchen counter, kissing your forehead gently, whispering soft little praises in your ear. His darling wife. 

Miles away from how he’s just pulling your drenched panties to the side - too impatient, too starved to remove them. “Was thinkin’ about this all day, my love” Weeping tip just kissing your sloppy hole. “Wanted to come home jus’ to- fuck- this cute lil’ pussy.”

Unforgiving. Nanami Kento was absolutely unforgiving. 

Because without another word, he’s stuffing your cunt so disrespectfully full. And oh, how he loved this view, loved the way your scramble to grab onto the counter - the shelves -  him. Just anything to get used to the stretch as he fucked into you in quick, mindless little thrusts. Like it killed him to wait.

Yeah, Nanami was sure that this was his favorite part of the day - a little reward when he gets home.

“Kento- ngh-” you keen. “D-did something happen at work?”

“No.”

Oh. Something did, probably a messed up report or another one of Gojo’s antics - but right now, talking about it was the last thing on Nanami’s mind. Because he was set and fully and completely ruining you.

Which is why he’s pooling some of the stray icing on the counter - were you baking before? It makes some dangerous, carnal part of himself jump at the thought of you making something for him. How adorable.

You gasp as you feel him harden impossibly inside you. So angry and hot as he dragged against your plushy walls. Veins bumping against your plushy walls in a dizzying little bump! bump! bump! Shit, you weren’t making it out alive. “Fuck- Kento you just got-” 

The taste hits you before the realization. Sweet - like icing. Whatever sentence at the tip of your tongue is cut off as Nanami bullies two fingers inside your mouth. 

The way you gag and moan so deliriously around him has all the blood rushing straight to his cock. Fuck, Nanami has to steel himself from painting your slutty pussy white right then and there - that wouldn’t make him too good of a husband now, would it? How dare he even think of cumming before you do.

“Shhh.” he huffs, hot against your ear. Tongue flattening along the skin, licking long, languid stripes up your neck, catching on the stray smudges of icing. His favorite. “Jus’ take it f’me, my girl.”

All your muffled whines have Nanami only slamming into you faster and faster. Your messy pussy was just soaking his aching cock - smearing your sweet juices all over Nanami’s heavy balls, seeping into your apron and- Ah, that apron. How Nanami loved to fuck you in this, such a cute lil’ pink number that had his cock twitching so dangerously inside you. 

Faster. Sloppier.

But it wasn’t enough. 

“Should’ve hah- expected this to happen, huh?” One hand snakes its way down to your throbbing clit, rolling the sensitive bud in just the way he knows will make you squeal and buck your hips onto his cock for more more more- “When you sent me those fucking pictures today?”

Because you weren’t quite the innocent little wife that you loved to pretend to be - no, you knew exactly what you were doing sending those selfies in this apron. And nothing else. 

“Better not pull that shit again, darling.” Nanami grunts at the sheer thought of it. Pressing at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and craning your head to look into his darkened gaze. “Wouldn’t want to regret it.”

Such pure pride shining in his eyes at your fucked out state - apron stained with the sticky mixture of your slick and his precum. 

And the one thing you know you won’t regret is the way you’re cumming. And cumming so hard that it almost hurts.

You, all messy and gorgeous cumming all over his cock, that Nanami can’t help but have his hips stuttering. so sloppy as he thrusts once, twice before pumping thick, hot ropes of cum. Tight balls squeezing so painfully as he cums the way he’s been dying to ever since he opened those sinful little messages from you. 

God, he loved coming home. Whispering, so deceivingly gentle against your lips, sounding miles away from your sweet lover. “Now, spread those pretty legs f’me, darling. Wan’ see if something else tastes as sweet..”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Spell my name (and yours)

“What’d that spell, m’girl?”  

Now, Geto always has been told he has a silver tongue - you just never expected he’d use it like this. With you, sat so prettily on his face, eyes watery, swollen lips dropping into a soft oh! as he drags your sloppy pussy all over his mouth. 

You gasp breathlessly, “I-”

Oh? Will you finally get it this time? 

“I don’t know.”

Well, to Geto, that just meant he wasn’t doing his job well enough. And he took that personally. 

You could almost sob in desperation as he pulls away ever-so-slightly, pathetically tugging on his dark locks to pull him closer. Uselessly. 

Because Geto loved this part. Loved spreading your quivering thighs shamefully apart, all the way until you were letting out such cute lil’ moans at the stretch. Loved acting all disappointed as he stopped making out with your pretty pussy to let her drip! drip! drip! your sweet sweet juices down his waiting tongue.

“M’disappointed.” he tuts, mockingly, your frustrated whines going straight to his aching cock. “Thought you’d finally get it this time, beautiful.”

It’s been like this for so long now, Geto teasing you with his mean tongue. Ignoring his angry, achingly hard cock to spell out sinful little words on your dripping cunt - not letting you cum until you got them right. 

Oh it just made you want to cry in desperation - and you’re so drunk off of his hot mouth that you barely even realize when you do. Big fat tears dripping down your cheek as you whimper,  “S-Sugu, please. Jus’ wanna-”

“Cum?” he muses, giving your folds a long, languid lick. So unfairly gorgeous underneath you that it was almost dizzying - so smug in-between your legs, dark hair splayed across your pillow, your slick glossing all over his pretty pink lips. Ones which move as he plows on, “Then tell me what it spells.”

It’s laughable, really. That muffled little warning - if you can even call it that - before Geto’s diving back nose-deep in your pussy. 

Bullying his tongue through your swollen folds - circling your sloppy entrance, dipping in and out in and- It made his cock twitch so painfully to catch the way your mouth drops open in disbelief, torn between trying to catch what he was spelling and bucking up for more more more-

“First two letters?” 

You’re snapped out of your euphoric daze, eyes flitting down to where your boyfriend was devouring you with his eyes as much as he was with his mouth. 

“Uh- Ngh-” you mewl with each flick of his tongue. A warning. A threat. Slurring slightly at the overstimulation, “Is it- ah- G-E?”

At this, Geto lets out a happy groan - one that has white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes. Mouth only working faster, tracing out delirious little patterns on your pussy. Starting at the base, working all the way up to roll his tongue over your swollen clit. 

So rough that you wondered whether it hurt - whether his tongue was cramping up, jaw tired. 

“M’alright, sweetheart. Now, next letter.” 

Shit, had you said that out loud? Ah, you don’t get to wonder too long about it, because Geto’s rocking your cunt so messily over his soft mouth. Drinking in your broken whine of, “T! It’s T.”

“Good. Next.”

“C?” you babble, grinding down harshly. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as your clench around his soft tongue. But oh you were so cute that he just had to forgive your little mistake. 

“Nope.” Geto chuckles, popping off your throbbing clit with a lewd pop! “Try again.” Before starting his assault on your poor cunt again. Faster. Harder. Almost like he didn’t want you to get it.

He likes this - loves it even. Lapping up at your juices like it was his favorite taste, like he never wanted to leave. Just lay there and tease you for hours and hours and- 

“Ngh- O. Fuck fuck fuck, it’s O. Geto!” 

That’s right, spelling out his name on his girl’s pretty cunt - his his his- And, well, making you yell out what was to be your own last name soon? That was just a bonus.

It makes his balls squeeze so dangerously at how proud you were at your little victory. Walls fluttering around his tongue in a way that Geto knew meant you were close - too close. It almost makes him feel bad for what happens next. Almost. 

“Now now. Stay still, beautiful. Haven’t spelled out my first and last name jus’ yet.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - The thirsty

Choso loved you - so much so that it hurt. Everything from that pretty lil’ smile to the way you say his name in bed. And - nobody ever knew this - but he especially loved you when you squirted all over his achingly hard cock, until it was glistening and drenched with you.

The first time it happened was an accident - knuckle-deep in you when he’d hit that one spot just a bit too hard. Watching in awe as you soaked his fingers in your juices, so sloppy and dripping all the way down his wrist. 

An accident. A sinful, dangerously convenient accident. One that had poked such a carnal, primitive part of Choso awake. One that had you here - legs spread so shamefully open, grip tight on your hips, bruising as he fucks you from behind. 

“Cho-” you mewl, tears soaking into your pillow. “I don’ think m’gonna ngh- squirt.”

“No.” he moans, sounding as if his sanity was dancing away from him with each time his twitching balls smacked your ass. So heavy and just aching to cum - but not yet. No, he had more important things to do. “No no no- Fuck- need this so bad- you don’t understand, baby.”

And oh with the desperation of a madman, Choso’s snaking a hand down to toy with your swollen clit. Flashes of white behind your eyes each time he draws quick, maddening little circles on it. 

“But-”

Faster. Sloppier. Not even circles because Choso thinks he might just go insane if you don’t cum now, all over his fingers and his cock and-

Your eyes snap open, a broken little sob leaving you before you’re cumming all over Choso’s fingers. It barely even feels like it, just a few exhausted tingles that have your vision spotty, tears clinging to your lashes at the pure overstimulation. 

And the haze has barely even cleared up before Choso’s moving again, as if on instinct. No rhyme or reason. So messy with the way he was squeezing his cock into your tight pussy in mindless, sloppy grinds like he couldn’t take it anymore - and he probably couldn’t.

“O-one more.” he groans like a mantra. Slamming his hips hard enough that it would leave marks for tomorrow - his hip on your ass, fingers on your waist. “Jus’ one more- fuck fuck need this need this-”

You just wished you had the energy to turn around and catch whether Choso looked as fucked-out as he sounded. Low moans turning into broken whines like he was begging you. Begging himself. 

Abs rubbing against yours, crushing you with his weight while he tried to milk that last, sweet orgasm out of you. Running only on the thought that this next one would hopefully have him soaked with your sweet sweet juices, dripping off of him. 

“Ngh- baby, do it f’me.” Choso’s babbling in your ear, dark hair tickling your neck. Hoarse little grunts leaving him each time he hit that plushy spot inside you, sending stars behind your eyes. “C’mon I want it. Need it so bad. Fuck fuck fuck-”

“But I don’t know if I can-” that little doubt makes its way out of you, in a soft delirious whine that has Choso twitching so ferally inside you. Close, he was so close. Too close - this had to be the one. 

“You- ah- can, baby.” he latches onto the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Fingers frenzied on your ravaged clit now, matching the time of his hips as he thrusts once. Twice. “You will.”

And you weren’t even sure if your last orgasm had bated before the next one was crashing in. Big fat tears rolling down your cheeks, at the same time your quivering pussy soaks Choso - all of him. Over and over-

Unstopping even when he’s shuddering to a halt, painting your poor pussy white with his cum, forming such a sinful pool on the sheets as you cum and cum and-

And Choso can’t even bring himself to be disgusted - because it doesn’t feel real. He’s here, pure electricity thrumming through his veins, your walls milking him so deliciously good, and just glistening and covered in your sweet juices. It’s all he’s ever wanted. 

Well, for now. Because look at you, exhausted, thighs still shaking with the intensity of your orgasm - so fucking gorgeous - a mean little part of Choso can’t help but think - 

What if he could make you squirt twice?

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - To taste, to command

“This what you want, brat?” he grins, grinding his angry, clothed erection on your pussy. Teasing. Torturous. “Wan’ to be split apart on m’cock, huh?”

Now, usually Sukuna would punish you a little more at that delirious little nod you give him - tell you to use your words like a good girl. But right now - shit, he’d never admit it - he’s been dying to get a lil’ taste of your cunt.

Pushing your legs further upwards, bending you in half all the way till your knees reach your tits. Mouth just watering at the way your pretty cunt was all glistening and clenching around nothing for him. At the idea of you crying on his tongue like you’re his favorite meal and-

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Master, we have guests. Curses from the far North seeking court.”

Ah, shit. Just when he was getting to the good part. Though, one look at you - and that adorable little pout - has Sukuna wondering - why does he need to stop?

Your head absolutely spins with the fact that Uraume was standing right outside, and Sukuna was still lowering himself back down till he was face-to-face with your dripping cunt. 

“Speak.” he hums, glossy lips latching around your swollen clit and it takes everything in you to not just scream. “I’ve got my mouth full.”

It’s the only thing said before Sukuna’s making out so sloppily with your pussy. Eyes half-lidded, slick glistening down his jaw, no care in the world for whether or not anyone outside would hear the lewd little squelches come from down there. 

You, however, have your thighs squeezing uselessly together, half-hearted protests spilling from your lips about “they’ll know!”

Only to get a muffled, “Who cares?” as he dips his tongue into your messy hole. 

Sukuna didn’t exactly expect you to be able to form a coherent sentence - not with the way you were sprawled so shamelessly on his bed, with him nose-deep in your pretty pussy and only probing deeper. 

But, ah, you always did surprise him - because somehow you manage to blink away those big fat tears in your eyes, hips stuttering as you let out a breathy, “U-um, Kuna isn’t here right now.”

His cock twitches so dangerously at the words spilling from your lips - knowing exactly how to push his buttons just right. He hears Uraume shuffle outside, clearly sensing the traces of his cursed energy - heh, what fun.

“Do you know when…’Kuna’ will be back?”

God, your little nickname sounds so funny on their tongue that Sukuna’s huffing out a little chuckle into your cunt. The vibrations making you jolt and squeeze so sinfully around him. “Shhh, brat.” he cuts off your whine, “M’ ‘not here’, remember?”

With a half-hearted glare you’re pushing the great Sukuna’s head deeper into your sloppy pussy - mainly because you wanted more, but partly because you really needed him to be quiet right about now. And he takes it in stride, lapping up at your sweet juices. 

“He- uh-” you’re cut off with him bullying his tongue inside your sopping entrance. Stretching you out. Circling the ring of muscle. 

Urame sounded rightfully impatient now, “Yes, my liege?”

“He’ll be back later.” you choke out, face flushed at the way you were acting so pathetic and Sukuna was only smirking smugly into your folds. So blissed out as he rolled your clit between two fingers. “Very later. I’ll ah- let you…know.”

And honestly you don’t even hear Uraume’s quick “thank you” - or whether they even manage to make it far enough to miss the sharp yelp of Sukuna’s name as he doubles down on his efforts. 

He knew exactly what you needed. What you craved. Tongue pushing against all the right spots so harshly over and over- Having you choking and sputtering out nonsensical little praises that you’d be absolutely mortified if anyone else heard.

“Kuna-” you gasp breathlessly, hips bucking up for more more more- “Been s’good for you so- ngh- can I cum? Please?”

Hell, if everyone was this trash at his feet begged like this then Sukuna might just be able to call himself a merciful ruler.  Well, not merciful enough to give you what you’ve wanted for so along, apparently. Because immediately, Sukuna’s pulling away, flashing you such a devilish grin. “Buckle up, brat. Because I haven’t cum yet.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Tied up n’ gorgeous

Of course, the great Gojo Satoru has a whole box full of overpriced blindfolds. Ones a bit silkier than normal, a bit softer on the skin - not for wearing outside, no. Ones that were for times like this.

“Sweetheart, fuck- y’look so gorgeous like this.” he groans, kissing down the thin fabric tying you to the wooden bedpost. Down, down, down until he’s pushing his face in-between the valley of your breasts. “Almost makes me wan’ forgive you for being all mouthy earlier.”

Ah, there was that too - when you were extra sassy with him today, making a few too many comments about how dumb that blindfold looked. Like you just wanted this to happen. And it took only one too many defiant comments until he had you bound to the bed, pretty cunt sucking him up so eagerly. So needy for him.

“Ugh, m’sorry, Toru.” you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently at him, breath hitching at the way his throbbing cock twitches painfully inside you at that. So easy. “Can you untie me. Please?”

“Hmmm lemme think.” Gojo looks down at you, a dangerous little smile curling his lips. “Nope.” And as if to further prove his point, he lets frustration out through you - stuffing himself into your sloppy pussy as far as it would go. 

Biting his lip at how pretty you were all breathless, pussy bulging so obscenely around him that it was so fucking hard to look too. Too sinful. 

“But-” you whine, “I thought-”

“What that I’d be nice?” your loving boyfriend finishes your sentence for you. And oh his voice had that familiar tone of amusement but his eyes had anything but. Dark and half-lidded, some dangerously smug satisfaction sparking in the as he fucks his hips in quick, shallow little thrusts. “Ya thought wrong, sweetheart~”

So high off the sight of you all cockdrunk and trapped - nowhere to run or hide. Though, you think you’d wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here. 

Feeling so debauched and downright filthy. Groaning at the feeble ring of resistance as he pushes relentlessly.

And you need to spread your legs maybe - breathe - or just claw at Gojo’s back for his fucking massive cock and for showing you no mercy. But you couldn’t, not with his godforsaken blindfolds tied around your wrists, so fucking tight no matter how much you tug.

“Shit shit shit- fuck these ties.” you gasp, thighs and arms both aching as he uses you as he pleases. Body torn between shying away because the stimulation was too fucking much, and just bucking your hips wildly for more. “And fuck you, Toru.”

“Fuck me? Me?” Gojo has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh - laugh. Fingers moving down to toy with your pretty clit, pinching and rolling between his deft fingers in order to shut you up. “Real funny, sweetheart.”

God he almost considers going easy on you at your barely-lucid little squeals. Heavenly pussy squeezing him tighter than ever despite your little act. 

And you know it too - how your facade is crumbling bit by bit. How you’re reeling from both his merciless cadence and the way he was talking to you in such a mean little tone. 

Heart thumping as he swiftly reaches over - hips still unstopping - to grab another blindfold and oh-

“Funny enough that-” Gojo loops the blindfold around your neck, right over your racing pulse. Just lose enough that you can breathe, but tight enough that you’ll have such embarrassing marks to explain tomorrow. “I want to fucking ruin you, my girl.”

“Fuck- yeah- m’sorry, Wan’ it so much. Wan’ you to-”

At this point, you’re cockdrunk and delirious enough that you barely even realize when he’s tightening the blindfolds at your neck. Choking and stuttering at maybe his grip- maybe the way it felt like he was pushing into your lungs.

Gasping into your open mouth. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck yeah?‘ Teeth tugging at the delicate fabric around your neck, catching on skin. Dangerous. Hips burning now as he licks away at the big, fat tears streaming down your cheek. “Then cum f’me, sweetheart.”

Hard. Violent. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. Stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears as you cum harder than you think you ever have.

And oh, it’s so adorable how you try to pull off the blindfolds, scrambling to grab onto Gojo for some- any semblance of sanity as you lay there, breathless and shaking. 

Cunt clenching so intoxicatingly around him that Gojo really can’t help but fill you up with his hot seed. Thick and so filthy. He’s got you in an iron-hold grip, hips moving in unstable, animalistic little movements from such a carnal part of himself. 

Gojo planned to tease you a little longer, but, oh well - might as well just paint your pretty pussy white, right? Might as well fuck his cum deeper and deeper and-

“Hey, sweetheart, can you shittalk my blindfold again? I wanna have more angry sex.”

A/N. Uraume definitely knew.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Florida is One Hell of a Drug - [Part 2]

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♥ series masterlist | main masterlist

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

♥ chapter two synopsis: lando hard launched his status as a girl dad, throwing all the fans into a loop. hopefully this visit to the miami gp will bring you closer two together as co-parents

♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest + madison beer for paparazzi pics - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing and suggestive jokes !!!

♥ a/n: I'm literally honored that y'all have been enjoying this series. sorry it took me so long to write this part/chapter!

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lilyzneimer 🤍

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alexandra_saintmleux she's so cute 🥺

logansargeant I'll take a babysitting shift 🙋‍♂️

oscarpiastri I'm the favorite uncle piss off

logansargeant chill damn

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Things between you and Lando were still pretty awkward. After all, if someone asked the two of you the night you hooked up where you’d be in a year, a flight to Miami with your newborn baby would not be your answer. You didn’t trust him very much yet, but who could blame you? You expected him to do everything in his power to stay away from you and Camila. But here he was, flying the two of you out to watch him race. Lando really wanted to prove to you that he was all in. That he wasn’t going to take off running the minute things got hard for you two as co-parents. 

You were extremely grateful that Oscar and Lily were on the same jet as you. This made the atmosphere not too uncomfortable. Lily was rocking Camila in her arms as her and Oscar talked a little about Mark Webber. You debated whether you should jump into their conversation after having an extensive f1 research night with your best friend the day before, but you decided to just sit in silence.

You caught Lando staring at you and let out a sigh. This was going to be a long flight.

-

He scanned the keycard to a nice suite in the same hotel the grid was staying in.

"This will be your room," he said, wandering inside. "Don't worry about where Camila will sleep, the hotel provided a crib."

"Thank you," you said genuinely. He was trying to be thoughtful.

"If you need anything, you have my number." Lando said before leaving the room.

You sat on the edge of your bed and pulled out your phone to check your notifications.

They already found you? And they thought you were a wag? Damn the paparazzi is quick.

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user6 I found y/n’s instagram before it went private. How is she so gorgeous?

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user8 I’m obsessed with herrrr

user12 she’s so aesthetic

user4 new favorite wag

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-Race Day-

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The last 20 laps of the race were driving you absolutely insane. You watched closely as Lando started to pull away from Max second by second. Your leg was shaking and you wondered why this was so nerve racking.

19 laps left. 18 laps left. 15 laps left. 10 laps left. 5 laps left.

1 lap left.

The crowd and garage erupted with cheers as Lando crossed the line in P1. You heard him screaming on the radio and couldn't help but smile. Lando Norris, the father of your daughter, is now a Formula 1 race winner.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

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mclarenracingf1 P1 BOYSS

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user6 LANDO’S A GIRL DAD 😭

user8 his gf is so pretty

user10 SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

user5 babe wake up Lando just hard launched his status as girl dad

user7 HE'S NOT THE STEP DAD HE'S THE DAD THAT STEPPED UPP

user3 @/user7 PREACH

user2 never change, mclaren admin

user1 screaming, crying, throwing up

user9 lets go lando, lando is ok

user11 lets go lando, he is here to stay!!!

user4 he has a daughter 🥺

user12 my heart belongs to the dads of the grid

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-Post Race Driver Reactions-

“Lando, great race. How does it feel to not only get your first win but have your daughter and partner here with you?" 

“Oh uhm, she’s not my partner.” he pressed his lips together. “But, yeah it feels great. It’s been a long time coming but we finally got the win. I hope I made my daughter and the fans proud today.”

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liked by logansargeant, landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 493,559 more

yourusername logan got me a bouquet 🥰 oh also oscar got camila some stuff too

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logansargeant @/oscarpiastri look who's the favorite uncle now

user7 please 😭

user4 the girls are fightinggg

user3 she made her account public again yay <3

user9 ok but that's so cute :(

user8 loscar as uncles >>>

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You and Lando walked through the sliding doors of the 5 star hotel you were staying at.

"Some of the other drivers and I are gonna go out tonight if you'd like to come? I'm sure they wouldn't mind." he rubbed the back of his neck.

You nodded towards Camila who was in your arms as a silent "I have to take care of her."

He pulled his phone out quickly, “I’m sure I can find someone who can-”

“No, it's ok. Go enjoy yourself.” you said, shaking your head and pushing his phone back down. “Not too much, though. Don’t want you ending up with another unplanned kid.”  

The comment took Lando aback but drew a laugh out of him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Congrats on your win.” you smiled, walking back to your room.

-

Later that night you laid down in your hotel room bed, scrolling through your feed. Dozens of pictures and videos of Lando popped up. Camila made a squealing noise in the portable crib beside you.

"I know, right?" you said to her with a laugh.

You stared at one picture that he looked particularly good in. You couldn't pretend like he wasn't attractive.

"Alright," you sighed, and placed your phone down. "Goodnight, mija." you leaned over, kissed her forehead, and switched off the bedside lamp.

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@littlegrapejuice, | @majx00, | @si1ver06

[alchemistc]

"Any plans for your days off, Buck?"

Buck knows his grin is a little feral, but he's kind of hoping that'll throw them off the trail. It's barely been a year, and in that time they've had three natural disasters, one copter crash, a boss intent on making Buck's life a living hell, and two almost break-ups.

It's too soon, to know for sure, except Athena and Bobby had known, and Hen and Karen had known even if they were too scared to admit it at first, and Chim and Maddie may have taken a little longer to get there but they'd known.

And Buck knows. He knows he's never felt like this about anyone before. Knows no one has ever had the ability to infuriate him and calm his fears quite like Tommy Kinard can. Knows they could have done this like they joked about six months ago and they wouldn't have regretted it.

Hen is making a face like she's trying to decide if she wants to know whatever head-tilt-cheek-bite sexual innuendo Buck's got in the barrel, because she only appreciates that about half of the time and Buck's praying she decides on no because he's a terrible fucking liar and he doesn't like keeping things from people. But it's sort of a secret, for the next 48 hours, and Buck also wants to bask in it, wants to enjoy keeping it to himself for just a little while.

"Our Buckaroo is all grown up and refusing to over share about his sex life, praise be," Chim chips in, and Buck tucks his chin to his chest and hopes his pink cheeks read as embarrassed.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and around him lockers slam and voices drift over him. He's only got eyes for the text that just came through.

Bird's ready, suits are pressed, room is paid up. You wanna go to Adele, after? I think I know one of her people.

You know everyone, stop bragging, I'm already impressed

I'm always gonna try to impress you. You still at the station?

Yeah but not for long. I'll see you in like forty

"--right Buck?"

Buck blinks, hums, stares across at Chim.

"Please tell me you're not sexting at work right now."

"Technically, we are off the clock."

"I'll remind Clipboard Buck of that next time he shows up."

He's zipping up his bag when his phone buzzes again.

See you soon, baby.

He's pretty sure he's gonna get away with it - Hen and Chim are arguing about some reality show as they all trudge toward the open bay doors, and though he can hear their voices further back, Eddie and Bobby still seem to be deep in conversation.

Ravi comes out of left field, because of course he does, just finished inventory still clutched in his hand as he rounds the engine closest to Buck. "Hey, Buck, you and Tommy wanna catch that movie tomorrow night? I picked up a shift but I've got like twelve off in between."

Buck winces. Damn, so close. "Sorry, bud, we actually won't be in town."

Which he's realizing now is pretty uncharacteristic of the both of them, and Hen and Chim have clocked it, so he's gonna have to make a run for it, but he catches sight of raised brows and questioning expressions and he can't give them nothing.

"Tommy's taking me to Vegas, we might see Adele, okay bye!"

They absolutely let him make a break for it, let him scramble into the Jeep, let him send them all a quick wave before he peels out of his parking spot, and Buck spends the drive to Harbor viscously ignoring the steady buzzing from his phone.

---

Tommy snags the backpack from his shoulder before he's fully out the door, and tugs a belt loop to pull him close. Buck is pretty sure he'll never get over how much he likes being manhandled, just a bit.

"You wanna tell me why Chim and Hen both wished us a good flight?"

"Ravi ambushed me on my way out the door. Technically, they don't know anything about anything, except maybe Adele."

Tommy's fond smile makes Buck feel all warm and tingly inside, and he basks in the glow as Tommy nudges a knee between the open bow of Buck's legs.

Tommy's expression morphs, a bit, lips dropping as he tilts his head. "You having second thoughts? We don't have to-."

"No. No second thoughts."

"Evan, I know how close you are to your family. If you want to wait, make this something you can share with them, we can hold off."

He's so goddamn charmed by this man - by how he cares, by how well he knows Buck, by a million and one tiny things that Buck gleefully hoards his knowledge of like a dragon over his caverns of treasure.

"I kinda don't want to share you, for this." It's the first time since Tommy's brought it back up that Buck's been able to express exactly why the prospect makes him so giddy, but there it is. Possessive jealous Buck rears his ugly head again, only Tommy has always been a little charmed by that. At least when Buck expressed it in a healthy way.

"The moment they know, it's gonna be a spectacle," Tommy agrees, fingers curling over Buck's side.

"Exactly. So. Take me to Vegas and wife me up before one of them shows up trying to tag along."

He expects the dramatic eye roll, and Tommy's fingers digging into his sides. He doesn't expect the ear-ringing whistle echoing through the bay door to their left, or the smirk on Lucy Donato's face when she lets her looped thumb and pointer finger drop from her lips.

"We should definitely go before any of them remembers to hit her up for more details."

"Why would she -."

"Yeah she caught a look at the manifest and snooped until she found the rings."

"So you're actually worse at keeping a secret than I am."

"They're all gonna know before we land back home."

"Hen's gonna break like thirty bylaws trying to decorate a county owned chopper."

"Evan, seriously, we can still -."

Buck only knows one sure-fire way of stopping Tommy from spiraling too much - he uses the little bit of leverage he has plastered to the open door of his Jeep to catch Tommy's lips, and the resulting pleased hum shivers down his spine. Evan takes a moment to be pleased that Tommy hadn't shaved this morning like he'd threatened, and then he's tilting his head for a better angle and losing himself in it long enough that a few more wolf-whistles make their way across the tarmac -- Wendell and York, most likely, but when Buck finally breaks the kiss to dart a look over Tommy's shoulder, everyone has made themselves scarce.

"You gonna marry me or not, Kinard?"

It's a rare thing, but sometimes, when Buck makes him a little extra wild, Tommy does this growling thing that Buck always feels down to his toes. Tommy kisses him breathless again when Buck responds to this growl with a satisfied smirk.

---

"How much you wanna bet Hen convinces you to do a vow renewal within six months."

Buck's busy nipping at a spot of flesh just above Tommy's transverse abdominis, so it takes a second for his brain to catch up with the words.

"It's gonna be Maddie, and she's gonna rope you into it before you realize what's happening."

Tommy hums, pleased, not denying it, and runs a hand through Buck's hair, palm curling over his crown. It takes Buck a moment to figure out why it doesn't feel quite as familiar as it always does, and then he's reaching for it with a hand of his own, the tips of two fingers sliding along the smooth metal surface of Tommy's ring.

The smile he shoots up from the general area of Tommy's groin is all puppy-dog grin, and he basks in the soft, warm grin Tommy sends back. Buck tracks the crinkle of Tommy's eyes like a lifeline.

"I'm gonna lord it over everyone's head that we didn't get married because of, during, or after a health scare or a natural disaster."

"You asked me two days after we made up because of a flash flood we both thought we were gonna lose each other to, but okay."

Tommy's smile is soft. The fingers that slide around his scalp to brush reverently over his birthmark are even softer. "That time doesn't count, because we didn't follow through. You thought I was joking."

He had, honestly, at first, because they'd technically still been broken up at the time and the adrenaline and the terror at nearly losing one another had still been close. It'd taken him three days and Tommy angrily re-ringing his house key back onto Buck's keychain to realize Tommy maybe hadn't actually been joking about hopping in the chopper the next time they both had 24 off.

He's glad they'd taken the extra time, though. Glad they'd had time to drive halfway across the state in search of a ring shop they could be sure they wouldn't run into anyone at, glad they'd had the time to get new suits tailored, glad he'd had time to fuss over vows he'd still cried about while he was saying them, glad they'd done it without an Elvis impersonator standing just off to the side.

"You're stuck with me now," Buck tells him, and Buck knows Tommy's delighted bark of laughter will keep him warm for years.

[buckyalpine]

LMAOO OKAY IMAGINE 40s!BUCKY (like tfa stark expo version) MAGICALLY TELEPORTING TO MODERN DAY, and Sharon’s bitch ass is hanging all over him, flirting hardcore, and is absolutely thrilled bc he’s actually giving her some attention. BUT THEN HE SEES THE READER AND IS LIKE “oh wow who is THAT” and leaves her alone to go woo the gorgeous dame. I can picture her face getting all red and embarrassed and upset. And Sam and Nat and Tony are in the background giggling.

GOD I LOOOVEEE THISSSS 40's heart has my heart cause this blushing soldier would be such a perfect mix of devilishly handsome and adorably shy.

-

"Shit" Tony huffed watching his time portal experiment start up and fail for the fourth time in a row while Bruce continued to medal with the dials, resetting the machine once more. "Why does it keep doing that"

"Give it a secondary power source, there's not enough juice with the first one"

Tony nodded, rummaging through a pile of knick knacks on his desk, grabbing a vial and adding it to the generator.

"Alright, set the timer to 19:00 hours and 40 in the past. Let's see if we can just travel to yesterday first before messing with going back years" He snorted, as Bruce punched in the time before hitting the start up button. The machine started to rumble before growing hot, the dials and buttons spinning and clicking on its own, parts starting to pop off.

"Oh shit!" Tony ducked under the table, shielding himself from getting knocked out as the portal grew more powerful, a force filed growing, knocking down things around the lab.

"What the hell did you use as a power source?!" Bruce yelled over the high pitched whizz the machine started to make, blinding light filling the room before disappearing, leaving a cloud of smoke in its place.

"I don't know, I just grabbed something that look like it'd fit" Toy shrugged between coughs as the smoke dissipated, squinting when he realized the platform wasn't empty.

Someone was standing there.

"What the hell..."

Blinking with bright blue eyes was a young soldier, dressed in a fresh, clean and pressed uniform, looking like a lost puppy while Tony and Bruce blinked in both confusion and amusement.

"Banner what the hell did you do with the timer?!"

"You're vial set everything into over drive, it must've recalibrated to 1940 instead of a couple of hours ago!" Bruce threw his hands up while the younger version of Bucky stared at the lab with child like wonder, his eyes twinkling as if it were Christmas day.

"Holy shit..." He breathed out seeing the vast technology, his mind still reeling over what was happening. One minute, he was on his way to see Steve and take some girls dancing and next thing he knew, he was sucked through a loop.

"Dear God-alright, uh-Barnes?" Tony waved the soldier over, mentally debating on what to tell him.

"Mr. Stark? It's-it's an honor, sir" Bucky shook Tony's hand before standing tall before him with his back straight, ever the bright eyed Sargent. Tony scratched his head before letting him take a seat, figuring honesty was the best police.

"Sargent. This may take a while"

-

Bucky understood bits and pieces of what Tony explained to him while getting a tour of the compound, the common room being the last place for him to check out. The team alternated between greeting and secretly cooing over the adorable young Bucky while also simultaneously laughing at Tony. At the very least, the billionaire was lucky the actual Bucky was away on a mission with you and Steve; there was only so much he could handle in a day. The soldier decided to hang back in the living room with the others, happily chatting away with Sam and Nat.

Then there was Sharon

"Hey Soldier" She winked, giving him a smirk causing the young Bucky to blush, throwing her a flirty smile right back.

"Nice to meet ya' doll" Bucky drawled out making her giggle, his lip catching between his teeth when she flipped her hair back.

"Aren't you sweet" She whispered, her heart beating a little faster when he moved towards her, his sweet baby blues gazing down at her intently. She'd tried a million times to get Bucky's attention before and he didn't look at her twice. She wasn't about to lose her chance with the new one.

"Look whose talking" Bucky chuckled back, his naturally flirty nature taking over with ease, after all it would be rude for him to ignore her.

"Someone's gotta protect him from this randy she goat" Sam whispered while Nat snorted, watching the two of them continuing to flirt, Sharon's hands toying with the buttons on Bucky's uniform, making her way up to brush his collar.

There was no way she was going to just let the gorgeous soldier go.

The machine wasn't fixed any time soon so Bucky was given a room to stay in. He loved the feeling of modern day sweats, looking cute as ever in some comfy joggers and a cotton tshirt, his fluffy cropped hair always neatly brushed and face shaven.

He was a Sargent after all. He always looked his best, even in lounge clothing.

There hadn't been a day where Sharon left Bucky alone. She clung onto his side, practically crawling up his leg day in and day out while the others side eyed the situation, keeping an eye out for the innocent Bucky.

"So, what's a soldier like you doin' without a girl, hm?" Sharon teased, pressing her hand to his chest, loving the way Bucky flirted back with her while the both of them sat in the common room with a movie playing in the background. Tony, Nat and Sam glanced at each other, quietly watching from their place in the kitchen while the blonde continued to giggle and blush, running her finger's through his hair.

"How do you keep your hair so soft, Sargent"

"Well, I- woah"

Sharon frowned when the soldier stopped talking half way after something- or someone- caught his attention. His eyes grew wide, a classic boyish smile appearing on his face when he saw the prettiest dame he'd ever laid his eyes on walk by the living room, making his heart flutter.

"who was THAT" Bucky stared in awe, seeing her stretch her arms up, still in some type of modern tactical suit, rubbing sleep from her eyes and yet she was still one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.

"Uh-excuse me" Sharon's face twisted watching Bucky stare are you like a love struck puppy, nearly jumping over the sofa so he could run and talk to you. He didn't take his eyes off you, practically swooning when he saw you pack away the gun from you holster.

"Huh-yeah, sorry-" Bucky mumbled, still focused on you, unbothered by the way Sharon's face was now red with embarrassment, seething at what he was doing.

"Look at this guy, he's not even hiding the fact that he's staring at y/n" Sam snorted while Tony and Nat snickered, watching the young Bucky watch you with heart eyes, "Aw man, he's got it bad"

"Hey y/n, looks like someone's got a little crush on you" Nat whispered, discreetly nodding to the living room. You nearly squeaked in surprise, seeing a very very young version of your boyfriend sitting on the couch, taking peeks over at you whilst ignoring the blonde who was still fighting for his attention.

"Tony, you did this, didn't you" You sighed while Tony smiled proudly, now fully invested in how all this was going to play out.

"I'll explain later. Go wash and change and you can talk to him"

As soon as you were out of the kitchen, Bucky scrambled to the group, cheeks tinted pink, bashful as ever, looking at the three smirking faces, wiggling their eyebrows at him.

"See something you like, soldier?" Nat prodded while Bucky nearly giggled, nodding.

"Who was that" He asked in earnest, truly curious to at least get your name.

"That would be y/n. I'll introduce you once she's back down. You might be her type, y'know" Sam winked knowing damn well he was your type. After all you were technically already dating. Bucky bounced on his heels, waiting patiently while Sharon huffed, refusing to move from her spot on the couch. You made your way back down after a shower to see an exited Sam and a shy Bucky along with a smug Tony and Nat.

"Y/n, meet young Buck" Sam smiled while you held your hand out, swooning at the way he shook it gently, throwing you smile few got to see, one he had when he got butterflies in his belly.

"Nice to meet you Sarge"

"Pleasures all mine, angel" Bucky whispered, leading you off to the living room to talk to you more, offering you a seat, wondering if you wanted anything to snack on or drink, forgetting Sharon's existence entirely. Sharon nearly opened her mouth to say something, immediately shutting it with a satisfied smirk seeing the other Bucky walk in followed by Steve. Hopefully he'd see his girlfriend was a cheating whore, flirting with someone else even if it was him from the past. Her brain wracked itself in hopes that this would all crash and burn while Bucky frowned the closer he got.

"What the fuck Stark" Bucky scrunched his face walking in on some punk flirting with his girl, only to realize said punk was a younger version of him.

"Relax, I'll fuse you two together" Tony shrugged while Bucky's face twisted again, grumbling when his younger self kissed you hand again, pulling you up for a dance while fumbling with a phone he'd just managed to figure out.

"They're cute" Steve grinned, nudging Bucky playfully while Bucky rolled his eyes, smiling to himself a little while later when you caught his eyes, throwing him a wink. You laid your head against the young soldiers chest while he swayed with you, unaware that he was being watched by everyone else, in his own world with just you in it.

"You better fuse us together" Bucky hissed, narrowing his eyes when you giggled at something that was whispered in you ear; Tony snorted with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Why Barnes, scared of a little competition?"

Before Bucky could retort, Sharon was up and walking with purpose, stalking right towards Bucky.

"Y'know they're both flirting hard, right? Aren't you two dating?"

Bucky wordlessly stared at her while the others looked at her with confusion, the desperation becoming embarrassing.

"Sharon, shut up" Sam deadpanned while her mouth gaped open and shut before storming off.

"Back to what I was saying. Scared, Barnes?"

"You should be the scared one" Bucky sassed back, knowing exactly what his younger self was capable of; he knew that innocent boyish charm did wonders when it needed to. That being said, even his past self recognized real love, gravitating towards his one true soul mate after just seeing her once.

He watched the two of you continue to dance and whisper, the young soldier tipping your chin up, eyes flicking to your lips, his soft pouty pink lips so close to yours, leaning down so he could press a kiss so sweet-

"Alright that's it, punk get your hands off her!"

[jihyoruri]

INTO YOU bada lee x reader

warnings: yn is apart of jam republic, bada is older than yn, fluff, one sided enemies to potential lovers, fluff, yn is lowkey insane but it’s okay we love her

yn poked her tongue into the side of cheek as her gaze hardens on the tall dancer, of course she just had to be here and look the way she does, so annoyingly attractive.

yn felt a nudge and turned to look at audrey who had a teasing look on her face, “you know people can feel when you stare at them right?” she laughs nudging yn again, “she’s a good dancer.”

yn rolled her eyes at that, “I wouldn’t say good…” she fibbed, looking off to the side, she was really good dancer actually but yn would never say that out loud.

audrey have a pointed look that screamed “be real” and yn reluctantly shrugged her shoulders, “okay maybe she’s a little good.”

“why do you hate her again?” audrey asked taking her turn to have a look at the taller girl, ever since she’s met yn, yn would always rant to her about some “tall asshole.” that she hates, it’s amusing to see yn’s hatred in person.

“she just has it out for me.” yn answered dramatically, throwing herself on audrey’s shoulder, “have I told you about the time she chose me to do a duet with her just to get under my skin? and it was so intimate ugh i hated it.”

“yes yn, yes you have.”

“oh.” yn says before perking up again, “but it’s okay.” she says clapping her hands together as audrey looks at her confused, “since this is a show, she’ll probably be focused on that.”

“really?” audrey asked sarcastically, raising a brow as yn nods happily, “are you sure about that?”

“100% positive.” yn says flashing her teammate a charming smile. “she’ll probably forget I’m here.”

“yeah?”

“yep.”

“then why is she staring at you?” audrey asks in faux confusion. nodding over at the taller girl she smiles when she seees yn tense and slowly look behind herself.

yn makes eye contact with the person that she highly despised, she narrows her eyes at the other dancer who “smiles.” at yn.

to anyone else it would seem like a friendly smile but yn knew that smile. she turned back to audrey with a scowl on her face, “did you see what she just did?”

“uh..” audrey trails off, “smile at you?”

“no, she just revealed that she’s gonna make my life a living hell.” yn said taking another quick look behind her to get another look at bada, before turning back around to audrey, “oh, she’s so cocky I hate it.”

audrey lets out a loud laugh and leans closer to yn, “I love you but you’re insane.”

“I’m not insane.” yn says shaking her head seriously, “I’m real, and I’m gonna avoid that spawn of satan like my life depends on it, she’s not gonna ruin this for me.”

“ugh.” yn groaned looking up at the taller girl, “why do you ruin everything for me?” she whines hitting the dancers shoulder repeatedly, glaring at her when she laughs at yn.

bada continues to laugh as she hooks her finger in the loops of yn’s pants and pulls the shorter girl closer, “you’re so cute when you’re mad.”

“get your hands off of me.” yn says slapping the other girls fingers, her face heating up, she hates when bada does this, flirt with her just to get under her skin, “and stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” bada says as she ruffles yn’s hair, she lets out another laugh when yn gives her a an aspirated look “okay maybe I am.” she shrugs.

she laughs even more when yn groans and turns to walk away, she grabs the girls wrist and turns her back to her, “just because your reaction is always amusing.”

“okay so, me suffering is amusing to you?” yn asks looking up the taller girl who just looks down at her and smirks.

oh how yn wanted to wipe that smirk off her face, but instead she took a deep breath and turned around to walk away but came to a stop when bada’s voice was heard again.

“you know what can get me to stop annoying you?”

yn groans and turns back around to face girl, expecting her to make one of her stupid jokes but was shocked at what came out of bada’s mouth. “go out with me.”

the only word that could describe yn’s face would be shock, she took a step towards the older girl, “what?”

“you heard me.” bada responds, laughing softly at yn’s face, “oh, come on yn, don’t tell you didn’t know?” she asks teasingly. “you didn’t know I was into you?”

yn shakes her no head rapidly as bada walks closer to her and grabs her hand, “so…?”

yn looked up at bada and then down at her feet, maybe it wouldn’t so bad to give it try, “uh, okay…. but only because it will get you to stop annoying me.”

bada hums teasingly and wraps her arm around yn’s shoulder, “you sound so sure of yourself..” she trails off before leaning down lightly to yn’s face, laughing softly at the girls flustered state.

“you’re gonna be so into me by the end of that date.”

[disillusioneddanny]

Welcome to the Family DPXDC

And yes, he was thankful for that space, honestly, he needed it more than he could even explain. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his parents strapping him down to the operating table. To his sister finding him when she came back for spring break three months later and trying to rip Jack away from Danny’s broken body, only for her to be thrown back. They said that she had hit her head on in just the right spot on the corner of the table. That her death had been painless. Danny had waited, hoping to see his sister come back as a ghost but she never did.

The anger had welled up inside of him, though, enough for him to break out of his bindings and run to Sam’s house for help. From there it had been quick. The Fentons had no proof that Danny was a ghost, Jazz was dead in their lab and Danny had a large vivesection wound held together by pins and needles.

From there it had gone by fast. Bruce Wayne had heard his story and opened his doors to him, an offer that Danny was quick to accept considering his only other option was Vlad and that was a major no for him. Danny had gotten stitched up rather quickly and the Fentons had been taken to trial where they had both been found incompetent by the courts and were sent to some prison for the mentally insane in the midwest. Thank the Ancients it wasn’t Arkham.

But things were starting to settle now. Danny was healed up. They had finally held a funeral for Jazz. And he was set to start school at Gotham Academy with his new little brother, Damian. Things were finally starting to settle.

Things were starting to settle and Danny was finally able to really look at his new family and notice the strange things about them. Honestly, coming from a weird family himself, he was more able to spot the bullshit from others. The first he had noticed was Damian. Apparently he hadn’t ocme to live with the Waynes until he was ten and Bruce had discovered he had a biiological son he had never known about.

Damian was fourteen now and he wasn’t normal, if Danny was going to be honest. Danny knew that the teenager had at least four weapons on him at all times. He had thrown a knife at Danny’s head one of his first nights here when Danny had made a joke that the kid didn’t like. He also struggled to understand common cues and comments, but not in a neurodivergent way. In a way that he had genuinely grown up without ever hearing about those things and it had Danny curious.

The others were strange too. Tim seemed like he had never slept, like he barely operated at all. Duke always looked at Danny like he had seen a ghost and tended to keep his distance more than their other siblings did. Cass looked at him the same way some of Danny’s rogues did, like she was watching his every single move. Jason reeked of death every time Danny saw him. The souls that latched onto him showed that he had taken quite a few lives. And not only that, but everyone in this family smelled and felt like they had all died and come back. He had never met a family so liminal outside of Amity Park.

Even Dick, the most normal of the siblings was liminal. It was throwing Danny for a loop because no one else in Gotham seemed to feel this way. So what were they hiding? Was this why they wanted Danny to join their family? Because like called to like and they knew Danny was something different?

Or was Bruce telling the truth when he had said that he had seen a teenage boy lose everything in a day and decided he couldn’t not help out?

It had been two months now and if he was going to be really honest, Danny was starting to grow bored. No more ghost fights, no more running from the Fentons, hell Bruce had even decided that he was going to go after the GIW and the Anti-Ecto Acts because even though he didn’t know Danny was actually a ghost, he found the acts ghastly and problematic. Danny nearly hugged him when he had said so. But the more bored he got, the more curious he seemed to get as well, he needed to know what was going on with this family.

“It’s not like they would know if I decided to take a look around. I live here,” he murmured to himself, staring at the fire crackling within the fireplace, still chewing on his thumbnail. “All I’m doing is seeing what kind of fruit loop my new dad is. All billionaires hide something and Bruce is definitely hiding something,” he reasoned to himself.

The halfa shook his head, the curiosity was going to drive him absolutely insane if he didn’t go and snoop. He stood from where he laid curled up on the couch and trekked back up to his bedroom. A room that was literally through times the size of his old bedroom.

It was still hard to believe that this was his life now. He carefully locked his bedroom door and felt the familiar rings of light wash over him before he transformed into his ghost form. The sixteen year old smiled at the familiar feel of intangibility wash over him and he slowly sunk through the floor, staying invisible as he went through each room of the house that was not a bedroom, looking through each one carefully to see if anything jumped out at him.

Then he made it to Bruce’s office just as Bruce himself stepped out of a door hidden behind an old grandfather clock and that’s when Danny knew he had caught him. Of course this was too good to be true! Bruce was far too perfect to not have something hidden deep inside.

He flew through the wall and found himself in an elevator and frowned before continuing down, down, down until he found himself in a large cave underneath the cave.

“Holy shit Batman,” he whispered as he started to fly around the stalacites, taking in the Batcomputer, the weird prizes the different vigilantes had one in their countless rogue fights. His eyes widened as he found Tim typing furiously at the Batcomputer, bags deep under his eyes and Danny took a look at what he was working on and held back a gasp.

When Bruce had said he was going to get rid of the GIW and the Anti-Ecto Acts he hadn’t really thought too much of it. It was Bruce Wayne, the playboy extraordinare who cared about all social causes that came across his desk.

But to know that the Bats were investigating it? With the Justice League? Danny’s mind was blown. He watched as Tim fought through the firewalls that Danny, Tucker, and Technus had set up to keep Amity Park a secret from the rest of the world and glanced down at his new older brother before back up at the screen and let out a sigh.

He could at least make their job easier.

He flew into the computer and started to break through each of the firewalls that they had put in place one by one before Tucker and Technus zoomed in on him.

Tucker had become just liminal enough to learn how to go into technology. He gave Danny a disapproving look as Technus stared at all the hard work they had done be ruined by Danny.

“What are you doing in here?” Tucker demanded, his eyes bright green as he stared Danny down.

“Red Robin is trying to get rid of the acts,” Danny said with a small smile. “Let him learn everything he can. I trust the Bats.”

Tucker and Technus scowled.

“Fine, Ghost Boy. Now get out of our territory before you destroy it even more,” Technus said, glaring at Danny over his sunglasses. Danny just grinned and flew out of the computer once more to find Tim dialing a number on his cellphone furiously.

“Babs! I finally got in! I don’t know what happened but all of the firewalls fell and Jesus Christ it’s worse than I thought. The Fentons recorded their experiments on Danny,” he said and Danny shuddered as he looked at the scream, hearing his screams fall on deaf ears. He had Tucker hide all of the video tapes as soon as he could to make sure that no one would see proof that Danny was more than just a human. But if they were going to get rid of the Anti-Ecto Acts then they needed all the proof that they could get that ghosts were sentient creatures.

He flew out of the Batcave quickly and made it back to his room where he turned back into his human form. Now he needed to decide. Did he tell the Waynes that he knew their secret? Or did he leave it alone?

He pursed his lips and fell back onto his bed as he fell into thought about it. Once Tim got through all of the videos, he was going to know that Danny was different, that he wasn’t just a normal human boy. Especially when he would get to the part where they cut Danny’s arm off and it grew back just a few days later.

Right now the ball was in his court, though. He knew that the bats were going to know that he was different, but he didn’t know if they were going to say anything about it. He could play with this. He grinned to himself.

He could have some fun with this.

…

“Danny! Dinner’s ready!” Duke called through his door and Danny grinned and headed out, already having come up with a plan for how he’s going to fuck with the bats.

He wanted to see how far he could push them until they admitted that they knew his secret and and that they were the bats. He wondered how long his new family could hold out before giving in and saying something.

So with that, Danny opened the door and grinned at Duke, who he now realized was the day time hero signal and explained why he not only kept his distance but looked at Danny like he had a second head most of the time. Now that he thought about it, Duke probably could see his true form and wouldn’t that be fun to mess with.

While Phantom was technically tucked away in Danny’s core, he was visible for those who could see beyond the veil. Duke was someone who could see beyond that veil and if Danny focused just enough he could alter his ghost form without even being in that form.

“Hey, thanks for grabbing me,” Danny said, imagining Phantom with ecto dripping from his eye sockets, his fangs grew longer and longer and his eyes turned pitch black. Phantom was looking like he came straight from a nightmare from what Danny could see in his mind’s eye and he smiled as Duke cringed away from him slightly.

“Of course,” he stammered out nervously. “Are you doing okay?”

Danny grinned, perking up slightly. “Yeah, I’m doing great actually. I’m really excited for school tomorrow. Why do you ask?”

Duke just shook his head and shuddered lightly. “No reason.”

The two continued down to the dinner table and took their seats. Tim trudged in just a few minutes later and his eyes immediately fell onto Danny’s form. His eye twitched slightly as they raced up and down Danny’s body, taking in all of Danny’s limbs and noting that his facial features were all there.

“Are you okay, Tim?” Danny asked with a frown, his lips twisting up slightly.

Tim just stared at him warily and nodded once. “I am, are you? Doing okay, that is?” He asked, nerves apparent in his voice.

Danny just smiled and tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, as far as I can tell I’m okay. It’s funny, Duke was worried about my wellbeing too. It’s really nice, though. I wish I had someone asking if I was okay when my parents had removed my eyes during one of their sessions with me,” he said just as Alfred set a plate before him, the porcelain clattering against the table as he tried to recover from shock.

“You mean like, blindfolded you, right?” Dick asked hesitantly, looking up from his own plate of food and Danny just grinned and shook his head.

“Nope,” he said, popping the P. “I’m pretty sure my da-Jack used a melon baller to remove them, it was very painful and weird experience,” he said with a slight shudder. It was the frist time he had mentioned out loud some of the trauma he had experienced at the hands of the Fentons. And if he was being honest, it felt rather cathartic for him to actually talk about the torutre he had endured. Sure, judging from the horrified expressions of his new family members, it might not be hte most comfortable conversation but for him, it was nice to just say it, out loud.

His parents had tortured him. Had ripped him apart molecule by molecule and his body just forced him to regenerate, the electric ectoplasm that brought him back that fateful day in the portal continued to live inside of him, continued to bring him back from death over and over. It had made him realize that there’s a good chance that he was immortal. That his human half may never actually die.

And that was a terrifying thought.

Danny just happily continued eating his dinner, ignoring the horrified stares all around him. Oh yeah, this was going to be so much fun, he could feel it in his core.

….

It was a few nights later when Danny woke up to his stomach growling at like three in the morning. And of course, that mean he needed to go down to the kitchens and rifle through the refrigerator to find something to eat.

In all honesty, he had a major hankering for some fruit loops. Which led to him digging through the pantry that Alfred kept stocked up on all of Dick’s favorite cereals since he was the one who primarily ate them. He let his eyes glow in the dark as he searched, too lazy to turn on the lights and not particularly wanting to have the light ruin his post sleep glow. He dug around until finally find the box of sugary, fruity goodness and silently cheered to himself. Now he just needed to get some milk and a bowl and he would be a very happy ghost.

Danny allowed the box to float to the kitchen counter before he skipped towards the fridge and hummed. Did he want oatmilk, almond milk, whole milk, ancients there were so many options for milk.

He let out a hiss as the lights flickered on in the kitchen and slowly allowed his head to spin around on his neck to glare at whomever was evil enough to turn on the lights in the middle of the night. An ear piercing scream shook through the manor as Dick scrambled away from Danny and oh what a sight Danny was to see. His hair was bird’s nest on his head, his eyes were glowing bright green and he had twisted his head around his neck one hundred sixty degrees and let out an inhuman hiss.

Dick slammed his back against the wall as Danny allowed his eyes to turn blue once again and his head spun back around to normal just as Bruce and Tim came running into the room.

“What is it?” Danny asked innocently, cocking his head to the side, blinking his eyes owlishly at Dick. The poor vigilante was white as a sheet as he stared at Danny in horror. Bruce looked between his sons curiously.

“Three am cereal?” He asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled at Danny. “I think I may make myself a bowl as well. How about you, Dick? Tim?”

“I-I think I’m going to go home to Bludhaven,” Dick stammered out, unable to look at Danny.

“Oh, well I hope you get home safe. Text me when you get home so I know you made it safely,” Bruce said cluelessly as he walked over to start making his own bowl of cereal. Tim gave Danny a wary look before he shook his head.

“I’m heading back to bed,” Tim muttered and Danny smiled to himself as he poured himself a large bowl of cereal.

“How are you doing, Chum? Are you getting settled?” Bruce asked, looking Danny over for a moment. Danny nodded and took a bite.

“You know that I know that you know,” he said simply as he chewed his cereal.

“I do,” Bruce said simply. “It’s pretty entertaining to watch the others.”

Danny swallowed his bite of cereal and grinned. “Glad you think so because this is the most fun I’ve had since you adopted me.”

“It will be good training for the others,” Bruce said as he poured himself a bowl of–

“You have your own brand of cereal!?” Danny exclaimed, looking at the cereal called Batman Crunch.

Bruce smiled. “Unfortunately, I don’t get any of the royalties for it. But it’s cookies and cream flavored,” he said before looking at the milk that Danny had pulled out, and poured some into his bowl. “Oatmilk, good choice.”

“I like the flavor,” he said with a shrug.

“Just so you know, if you ever want to join the nightlife, you’re welcome to it. But from what I understand, you never wanted it in the first place,” he said and Danny nodded his head.

“Too much work. For now, I just want to focus on school. Maybe when I graduate high school I’ll join you guys. But for now, I just want to focus on recovery and graduation. I appreciate all the space you’re giving me,” Danny said softly, stirring his spoon around in his bowl. Bruce just smiled and leaned his arms against the counter as he took a bite of his cereal.

“Of course. And when you’re ready to talk about it, without trying to scare your siblings, we can talk about it,” he said.

“You’re not mad?” Danny asked, glancing up at the older man. “That I didn’t tell you about me being, being dead? Or that I was a hero or how bad the Fentons,” he stopped and shuddered slightly. He couldn’t say the words out loud. It was one thing to joke about them removing body parts, it was easy to call them sessions. But to say out loud how badly he had been tortured? He couldn’t do it.

“Of course I’m not mad, Honey, you went through a very rough and traumatic time. Take all the time you need and we’ll be here for you as you heal and recover. And if any of your brothers or sister give you a hard time, I’ll tell them I was in on it.”

“How’d you know about me?” Danny asked before he took a bite of his fruitloops.

“Phantom disappeared the same time Danny Fenton allegedly ran away. Not to mention just taking one look at Phantom you can see the resemblance.”

“Phantom has blue skin!” Danny argued.

“And the exact same facial structure, Phantom just has a more prominent lichtenburg scar that you also have, just not nearly as noticeable.”

Danny hummed. “Guess they don’t call you the world’s greatest detective for nothin’,” he muttered before he picked up his bowl and started to drink the milk.

Bruce just chuckled and patted Danny’s back once he finished. “Get some sleep, Kiddo,” he said softly. Danny gave him a salute, a milk mustache on his face as he floated up in the air and through the ceilings to get back to his room.

…

Danny was bored again. He found himself haunting the manor late in the evening. Most of the bats were prepping for their night out on patrol. They were all under the impression that Danny was upstairs doing homework. He soon turned invisible and made his way into the Batcave where he found his siblings gathered around the Batcomputer watching one of the videos of Danny being tortured.

“Danny’s not fully human,” Tim stressed. “I’ve watched his parents remove his limbs and they just grow back in a few hours. Like good as new, no scar or anything! He wasn’t kidding when he said they removed his eyes!” He exclaimed.

Jason let out a hum. “It’s possible that the Fentons did it to him,” he reasoned. “Like their experiments turned him into a meta that let him regenerate.”

“How does that explain the fact that he was able to twist his head a hundred and sixty degrees?” Dick asked, shuddering slightly. “Or the way his eyes glow Lazarus green?”

“Or the monster that’s constantly floating behind him,” Duke whispered, looking like he had seen absolute horrors. Danny held back a snort, he still hadn’t even let Duke see his full eldritch horror form. It had been child’s play so far.

“He died in those experiments,” Dick said softly. “You can see him flatlining multiple times. Being killed and brought back so many times probably fucked up his body a lot. It probably did a lot to him.”

Danny hummed, that was a good theory. Wrong but made sense where they were coming from.

Bruce walked forward in his Batman suit and looked at Danny’s siblings. “Regardless of what you think is wrong with Danny, he’s our family and maybe one day he will feel comfortable telling us what happened to him. And if he doesn’t, that’s fine too. But until then, give him space and quit trying to investigate him. We’re trying to get rid of the anti-ecto acts, not investigate Danny,” he said seriously.

Danny smiled to himself and flew back up to his bedroom.

…

Jason sucked in a breath when he saw Danny asleep on the couch. He didn’t know why he was nervous. Sure, there was something slightly unsettling about Danny but he wasn’t a bad guy. The kid was insanely sweet and funny. He handled his trauma the same way Jason did, with constant jokes about his vivisection the same way Jason joked about his death.

But between the stories from Dick, Tim, and, Duke and watching the videos of what the Fentons had done to his newest littler brother, something about Danny just unnerved him. But Bruce had asked him to wake Danny up so that he can come down for dinner. It was simple, he just had to wake him up. What was the worst that could happen?

He padded over to Danny’s sleeping form and alost immediately realized something majorly wrong with the image in front of him.

Danny wasn’t breathing.

Jason rushed forward, shouting out for help, help from anyone really. He knelt beside Danny’s prone form and pressed his fingers to the pulse point on Danny’s wrist and frowned when he didn’t feel anything. He cursed before moving to start doing chest compressions, desperate to get him to open his eyes and breathe.

Dick and Bruce skidded into the room and ran over just as Danny sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes.

“What are you doing!? Ow!” Danny shouted, slapping Jason’s hands away from him. “I think you broke my fucking rib,” he whined, rubbing at his side.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, looking between them concerned.

“He wasn’t breathing! He didn’t have a pulse!” Jason spluttered out, pointing at Danny who was frowning and pulling up his shirt to see if he was bruising yet or not. Beside Bruce, Dick let out a squeak, taking in the vivisection scar that still marred Danny’s chest. For some reason, all of Danny’s wounds from getting his body parts removed had healed just fine but the scar from being cut open over and over again stayed with him forever.

Bruce had given him scar cream to see if it would help but Danny had told him it would do nothing to help him.

“Oh yeah, it’s gnarly,” Danny said offhandedly. “The joys of having mad scientists for parents,” he said and sucked his teeth before he dropped his tshirt. “It’ll heal in like thirty minutes. Thanks for trying to save me I guess, but don’t stress, my heart just does that.”

“I thought you were dead!” Jason shouted, running a hand through his hair, utterly distraught.

Danny laughed and stood up, stretching as he did, his back popping a few times with the stretch. “Because I am,” he said simply.

…

Damian watched as his brother walked down the hall, texting on his phone as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He was not even bothering to raise his head to watch where he was going as he walked and Damian smirked to himself.

The idiot teenager was about to run face first into the wall and it would serve him right to break his nose for not paying attention to his surroundings. His smirk turned into a look of dismay, though, as Daniel walked straight through the wall without ever looking up.

There was something strange going on with his newest big brother and Damian was going to get to the bottom of it. It was clear that his siblings were not unfounded in their theories that Daniel was something other.

…

Danny grinned as he walked in on his final victim. He had managed to scare each of his siblings so far with his shenanigans and now he was finally going to get Cass. He had been trying to think of ways to throw her off kilter for a while now, but he had finally come to the perfect idea.

His family were gathered in the family room preparing to watch a movie together. Cass was curled up on the couch beside her girlfriend, the two talking quietly to one another. No one had noticed Danny walk in yet, which was rather typical.

He was lighter on his feet than any bat could ever dream. Even in his human form he had a sense of weightlessness to him that could only be attributed to his ghost form. Something that Danny had thought was interesting and also insanely thankful for considering it made it so much easier for him to sneak around when he was still living with the Fentons.

Danny creeped up behind Cass and Steph, a wide smile slowly growing on his face as he leaned down. “Mind if I sit with you two?” he asked, taking joy in the way both girls jumped in surprise, the rest of the family reacting similarly before giving Cass a shocked look of their own.

She turned to stare wide eyed at Danny and silently nodded once, unable to say a word.

“Sweet,” he said before hopping over the back of the couch and settling into the seat beside his sister. He reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn from Tim’s bowl and looked at the large screen. “What are we watching?”

…

Danny took his seat at the dining room table for dinner a few nights later and looked around at his siblings. Each one looked to be on edge, sending Danny worried, concerned looks every now and then. Danny had upped the hauntings in the manor, feeling more and more comfortable with changing to his ghost form and giving in to his ghostly behaviors. He had never really been able to do it in Amity, too much of a risk to haunt the house when his family hd weapons to destroy him at every corner.

But in Wayne Manor? He was free to roam the halls, to stare at dark shadows and just do what ghosts were meant to do. Haunt the manor. And the fact that his siblings would catch him every so often and get the life scared out of them was honestly just a nice bonus.

His core had never felt so content in his life. He was finally getting to give in to all of his ghostly behavior and now it was time to make it known to the others that he knew.

“You know,” Danny stated, taking a bite of his oatmeal. “I wasn’t expecting you all to be so chill about the whole dead thing. I thought you all would be more on edge with my weirdness. But considering you all are vigilantes it makes a lot more sense now why you were okay with a dead guy moving in.”

Tim choked on his coffee, drips splattered onto the table. “I’m sorry what?”he wheezed out.

Danny sat up and grinned. “What?” He asked before he took a sip of his chocolate milk. “You’re telling me that you watched all those tapes of my parents having their fun with me and never once realized I was dead? No living human being can endure the things I did and live to tell the tale. I’m dead.”

“But you have a heartbeat, you breathe,” Dick breathed out and Danny looked over at Jason.

“Do I, though?” He asked and Jason swallowed harshly as he remembered the way Danny’s chest didn’t move, how he felt no pulse no matter how hard he checked. “I thought a family of detectives would figure it out pretty quickly.”

Bright rings of light surrounded him for a moment and he showed his ghost form. “I’m Phantom,” he said with a sharp smile. He changed back to his human form and looked over at Bruce. “Bruce had me figured out before he even adopted me. I thought you all knew as well.”

“How did you know about us?” Duke asked.

Danny hummed. “Got bored, decided to explore the manor and imagine my surprise when I found the Batcave in the basement! From there it was easy to put together and I decided well, if I’m going to be living in a family of vigilantes there was no point in me hiding who I was. If anyone was going to accept the half dead kid, it would be you guys.”

“This family just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Dick mumbled, massaging his temples.

Bruce just smiled. “Danny, did I ever tell you that you have an alien starfish for a brother? His name is Jarro.”

I don’t plan on continuing this. Feel free to add if you want 💚💚

[riality-check]

Eddie needs this to go perfectly.

He’s… okay, saying he’s not an anxious person would be a lie. Eddie is very acquainted with the fight or flight instinct, with the latter of those two options being far more familiar. He’s vaguely obsessive and twitchy and, frankly, puts way too much thought and time into planning one-shots, nevermind regular campaign sessions.

Majority of the time, he likes to have control of a situation. There are reasons for that, plenty of which he knows, some of which he’s gone to therapy for, and more that are on the bedroom and currently irrelevant side of things.

The relevant side of things is the guy in front of him who doesn’t have any sort of ear protection on.

Eddie should mind his business. He really should. Corroded Coffin isn’t even headlining. They’re the openers for the tour of a much bigger band that noticed them and asked if they wanted to tour with them and Archie fangirled so hard he passed out. It was a whole thing.

Still, it’s their first real tour, and Eddie is a control freak, and he needs it to be perfect, which means no one gets hurt. This random guy - probably a roadie of some sort from how he’s plugging cables into something Eddie doesn’t know the name of - not having any sort of ear protection counts as someone maybe getting hurt.

Eddie doesn’t even know him, but he can’t have that happen.

Hell, this guy’s friend has her earplugs looped around her neck on a string like Eddie does. But Hottie - yeah, he’s hot and Eddie’s queer with a healthy sex drive, get over it - has none in sight.

That’s a problem. Eddie can’t have problems, not tonight, not before the first show.

“Hey!” he calls, walking over to Hottie and his friend, who are setting up equipment away from the stage. “You gotta have something for your ears, dude!”

Hottie and his friend exchange a look that Eddie can’t make heads or tails of.

“Thanks man,” Hottie says, and that nickname applies to his voice, too. “But I’m good.”

Eddie frowns. “You need to protect your hearing.”

“Trust me,” Hottie says. “I’ve worked a lot of gigs. Never wore anything then, won’t wear anything now, probably won’t wear anything at the next one.”

Okay. It’s fine. Eddie should walk away now. He’s totally capable of walking away. It is, quite obviously, the better alternative to this circular conversation.

But Hottie is gonna hurt himself this way. Potentially really badly if it’s not a one time thing. This is a metal show, for G-d’s sake. He’ll do some serious damage over time.

Eddie needs this to go perfectly, and for things to go perfectly, he can’t be responsible for that.

“I don’t think you get it,” he says. “You’re gonna destroy your ears that way, especially if you do this for a long time. This show is gonna be really intense, hell, the whole tour is! You can get cheap shit at the hardware store, it’s better than nothing-”

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

“Trying my best but I’m not fluent, Steve,” she says. Her hands pause, and she looks down at them, confused.

Hottie - Steve - shrugs, and his hands move as he talks. “I’m not either. You were doing pretty good, though. I think. Or our mistakes just line up that well.”

“What’s the sign for reverb? It’s the last word he said.”

“No clue. You can just fingerspell it.”

“I can’t remember R.”

“How do you forget R? It’s in your name, Robin!”

The friend - Robin - throws her hands up. “You know I get it mixed up with X!”

Eddie wants to die. This is it. He’s going to melt into a puddle due to sheer embarrassment, fifteen minutes before the doors open to let in the biggest crowd Corroded Coffin has ever played for.

What a shitty way to go.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t-”

Steve cuts him off. “Normally, I can lip read enough to get the gist. But you speak too fast and trip over your words.”

Ouch. Okay.

“I do lights,” he continues. “Robin does sound. We know what we’re doing, and we don’t need you to tell us how to do our jobs, even if you mean well.”

Seriously?

Eddie should have minded his business. He knows that. But G-ddamn, that’s blunt.

He’s saved, thankfully, from digging himself into a bigger hole.

“Eddie!” Jeff hollers from the stage. “Get your ass over here!”

He turns to walk away, then turns back to Steve and Robin. “Sorry,” he says again.

He turns back around before he can see their reactions and runs back toward the stage. Intimately familiar with flight, and all that.

Shit. First night of tour, and he’s already made an enemy of the light and sound people.

And the light guy is hot.

Really hot.

And he hates Eddie.

This is gonna be a long few weeks.

Now with a continuation and a part 3!

ao3

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

just read your new rafe x weird!reader and oml im obsessed with them 🫠

can we maybe see rafe finally proposing to her ?!

Thank you sm!! Ofc!! Sorry this took me so long, I’ve been plotting this moment for a minute… Mostly fluff 18+MNDI

“Rafeee” You whine, shuffling in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s truck, the blindfold on your eyes obstructing your view entirely. You had no idea where he was taking you, he just told you ‘to put on something pretty and get your little ass in the car’. “Seriously, where are we going?”

“Hush. I told you to stop askin’, didn’t I?” Rafe’s large hand reaches out to grab your thigh, squeezing it. “Just be patient, aight? It’ll be worth the wait, promise.”

You throw your head back with a groan and it makes Rafe chuckle. His ever impatient girl. But he can’t be giving away in secrets no matter how cute you are when you pout. Not tonight. Tonight had to be perfect. He drove out here to this spot you’ve been begging him to take you before picking you up to set everything up and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit nervous. Which was out of character for him. Rafe Cameron doesn’t get nervous. But with you? It’s different. He pulls onto a dirt road before putting the car in park and when you reach for your blindfold he bats your hand away.

“I said no peaking, brat. Keep it on till I say.” Rafe cuts the engine and exits the car so he can come around to let you out. He offers you a hand down and guides you into his arms before leaning down and placing a kiss to your temple. “Can’t have you spoiling the surprise. C’mon.”

He drags you along and you can tell you’re walking through grass and dirt but other than that you’re clueless as to where you are. You keep stumbling every few steps and you hear Rafe playfully scoff before he’s lifting you in his arms and carrying you bridal style. He carries you to what you assume is his desired destination before setting you down gently on your feet again.

“Stay here. And keep that shit on, I mean it.” Rafe’s large finger taps the blindfold on your eyes before you hear some shuffling around. He approaches you again, this time standing behind you with his arms looped around your waist. “Okay, you can take it off now.”

When you pull the cloth from your eyes you can’t help but gasp. You’re standing in what looks like an abandoned mausoleum, surrounded by candles. There’s a blanket spread out with a bottle of wine and the vintage picnic basket you found at the thrift store last year. He even brought the Jack O’ Lanterns you carved together a few days ago and lit them up. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scene before you.

“Wow - Rafe, I - you did all this?” Your voice cracks and your lip wobbles. When you and Rafe met he wasn’t really a romantic guy at all and over time you’ve softened him up but he’s never done anything like this. “For me?”

“Yeah, baby, f’course. Who else?” He whispers in your ear and kisses down your throat and god you want to blow him right this instant. You grind your ass down against him and he laughs into your neck, his breath fanning against your skin only spurring you on. “Always so horny. C’mon, let’s eat first, lil succubus.”

You and Rafe are sitting on the blanket, enjoying the meal he definitely had the cook put together because there’s no way in hell he could ever cook something like this. You’ve been joking and laughing, sharing sweet kisses and dreams about the future. You look around you, smiling. This really is the best date you’ve ever been on. It’s so thoughtful and so you. Rafe has always taken the time to see you for who you are and that’s one of the things that made you fall in love with him. Tonight is no exception.

“Hey, that guy isn’t lit!” You point at the pumpkin directly in front of you and gasp dramatically. “How could you leave him in the dust like this!? You’re evilllll.”

Rafe smiles at you knowingly. You fell for his trap, hook, line, and sinker.

“Why don’t you light it then, baby?” He takes a lighter out of his pocket and hands it to you. You take it gleefully and crawl over to the pumpkin. Giving Rafe a delicious view of those red lace panties under those little tights you have on. He can’t wait to fucking rip them in half and shove his cock balls deep inside you.

He watches as you take the top off the pumpkin and look inside expecting to find a candle. But instead, there’s a little red velvet box sitting at the bottom of it. You turn back towards your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow and he tilts his head, encouraging you to go on. You reach inside and pull out the box, your hands shaking. Is this really what you think it is? Rafe gets you jewelry all the time, but he never makes such a show of it.

“Go on, princess, open it.” When you flip the lid of the box, your hand flies to your mouth and your eyes well up with tears.

“Rafe, I - what is this?“ you turn toward him and almost jump out of your skin because he’s directly behind you, still towering over you on one knee as you crouch on the ground holding the box with the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen in your life inside.

“Bats. I think you know what it is…” Rafe laughs and the sound is like music to your ears, you love his laugh. “I’ve loved you since… well, since you yelled at me in that cemetery and told me off, if I’m being honest. I’ve never met anyone like you, baby girl. And I’m not - you know I’m not the best with words but I wanna spend the rest of my life with your weird little ass. Marry me?”

“Are you serious!? Of fucking course I’ll marry you, idiot!!” You squeal and jump into him, throwing your arms around his neck as the tears in your eyes start to flow down your cheeks. You lean back and place a sweet, messy kiss on his lips as you practically crawl into his lap.

“Yeah? I’m really fuckin’ glad because if you said no I was going to have to lock you in the basement until you changed your mind…” Rafe smirks at you and you burst out laughing. He plucks the box from your hand so he can pull the beautiful, skull, pearl ring from it and slide it onto your dainty freshly manicured finger. He made sure you got a fresh set before this. He knows how you are.

“That’s fucking hot. Maybe we could do that sometime, just for fun?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and Rafe groans at the thought of you all helpless and tied up for him.

“Fuck. I might have to take you up on that, princess.” Rafe takes your face in his hands and looks down at you sweetly, making your insides melt. “But right now? I need you to bend the fuck over so I can show my future wife how much I fuckin’ love her…”

Taglist: @starkeysprincess @babygorewhore @strawberrydolly333 @sturnioloshacker @rafesthroatbaby @loserboysandlithium @gri959 @rafeinterlude @nemesyaaa

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

Divider is @strangergraphics

[inez-winchester-cameron]

hear me out rafe x jj’s gf!reader 👀

u know how both rafe and jj go crazy on their bikes… its the usual kooks vs pogues hatred maybe during the bonfire, but instead of throwing punches rafe wanted to have a race with jj instead to ‘settle things’. and he wanted to bet on jj’s girlfriend whereas if he won, he got to keep her and do.. things.. yk..

cw: darkish!rafe x jj'sgf!reader, non-con recording, bets regarding sex, minor jj x reader, smut

notes: im going feral over this tbh

"ready to settle things?" rafe asks, coming face to face with jj. they both stare at eachother with hatred. the pogues and kooks gather at an old dirt backroad.

"im gonna kick your ass," jj growls, "i win, you leave us the hell alone."

"deal," rafe agrees, "whats in it for me?"

"i don't kick your fucking teeth in that's-"

"you let me fuck your girl."

your heart drops and you pause. you stand off to the side, wrapping jj's sweatshirt around yourself in the cold night air. jj pauses too, furrowing his brow, "hell no! i don't even-"

"jj, it's fine," you speak up, "you'll win, i know it." you say with a smile, only partially believing your words. jj takes a deep breath and nods, composing himself. you make eye contact with rafe and he smirks, licking his lip.

"deal," jj reluctantly agrees. you anxiously fidget with jj's hoodie strings as they get on their bikes.

"it's okay, jj'll win," sarah reassures you, "rafe's a city boy at heart."

3, 2, 1. and they're off. you watch as the bikes speed off, it's a loop that takes about three minutes when jj goes full speed with you on his bike. you can't deny that your mind wanders, thinking about what would happen if rafe won. you had heard rumors about him, what he's like in bed, how big his di- no you shouldn't be thinking about this, you mentally scold yourself. jj's going to win, for sure.

the longest two minutes and thirty seconds ever, you see jj and rafe come back into view. you can't see who's winning, they're too far away. and once again, your heart drops when a bike crosses the finish line, and it's not jj.

"fuck!" jj screams, throwing his helmet down, as rafe gets off his bike. rafe simply smirks, knowing why jj is pissed.

"it's okay, you'll get her back tomorrow, pogue." rafe pats him on his shoulder and heads towards you but john b. and pope stand in front of you, jj joining them shortly after.

an argument ensues, rafe insisting that a deal is a deal and his friends backing it up and the pogues insisting that it isn't fair to you. after a good few minutes, you speak up.

"guys! it's okay!" all the boys pause and stare at you in disbelief.

"it's one night, i'll be fine," you reassure them, "a deal's a deal." jj tries convincing you otherwise but there's absolutely no use, rafe won.

-

rafe pushes you down onto his bed, kissing you hungrily, "i'll make you feel better than that pogue ever did, princess. you're gorgeous, too gorgeous to be with a dirty pogue."

"r-rafe.." you whimper out, loving the feeling of his lips as they trail down your jaw and neck. you soak through your panties as he toys with you, taking his time.

he slips your shirt off and unties your bikini top you had on underneath, sighing when he sees your tits, "knew you had pretty fucking tits, you let jj see these?"

"y-yes.." you admit as rafe leans down and uses his mouth to give some attention to your tits.

"he's undeserving." rafe says, and after a bit more foreplay, he's shoving his cock into you.

"oh god! you're so big, jesus!"

"that's right, baby, keep talking," rafe says, fucking you slow and deep, "say my name like a prayer, sweet girl." he rubs your clit as he fucks into you, holding your hip with the other hand, "bet jj never makes you feel this good, huh? your poor pussy is squeezing me so tight, he must not be taking proper care of her."

you don't respond, your eyes rolling back as his pace picks up. your tits bounce as he fucks into you and you don't even notice the phone in the background of his room, recording every single moment. your pussy squeezes rafe tight, wanting him more and more.

rafe groans, "shit- fuck- such a pretty pussy. might have to come back for more of this. we'll keep it a secret from your boyfriend, mkay?"

"m-mkay.." you slur out, cock drunk. without warning, your cunt pulses wildly around his cock, making him pause and speed up.

"that's it, cum on my cock. im gonna fill you up, got it? maybe i'll get you pregnant, then you can be mine forever."

you don't make any effort to stop him as he cums inside, even though you don't even let jj do that. rafe pulls out and cleans you up, getting up after. as you rest in bed, oblivious to what he's doing. he grabs the phone and sends the video to jj with the caption, 'sorry man, she's mine now. made her pussy all mine, have fun jerkin' your dick to this. fucking cuck.'

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Cheol with a party girl gf like you look amazing he can’t take his eyes off you he loves that you’re having fun he’ll lose his mind if he sees one more guy look you up and down while you’re dancing he’s helping you out of your heels and carrying you home because you’re wild but you’re his

tw: dom!seungcheol, bratty sub!reader (fem!), mentions of alcohol, making out, dry humping, spanking, dirty talk, possessiveness, mentions of breeding kink - minors dni.

@gyuwoncheol @duhnova @wongyuseokie 🥰

Christmas holidays is the most wonderful time of the year. Especially for someone like you, who lives and breathes for wild parties.

It's your prime, where you can wear your most glamorous and hot dresses, sexiest shoes and captivating makeup, so you can attend every single party your friends throw during the holidays.

Of course, you're never on your own - your hands are always looped around the sturdy bicep of your boyfriend, who is nothing short of a party animal himself.

However, there's one tiny problem - Seungcheol is a possessive man. And whenever he sees another man eyefucking you from a certain distance (it's not your fault you look hot, okay?), it makes his blood boil like volcanic lava.

You aren't oblivious whenever his demeanor shifts in the middle of the party, where he's snatching you away from your friends to slow dance with you and keep you attached to his body.

You won't lie, it always get you some type of hot and bothered because how the hell are you supposed to resist a man like Choi Seungcheol? If you didn't have a certain amount of dignity, you would be fucking him in front of everyone (the thought has crossed your mind).

It always makes your panties twist and turn whenever he picks you up in his arms and your heeled shoes are hanging from his deft fingers.

"You looked really hot tonight, by the way." Seungcheol looks at you with sultry eyes.

"Cheol, you always say that." You laugh when you set foot in the apartment.

"Yeah, but you got a lot of compliments and looks from others."

There it is.

"Are you jealous, Cheol?"

"Me? Not at all." He says and brings you over to the couch and pats his lap. You sit on top of his thighs and he immediately grabs your waist to position you on the bulge of his dress pants.

"I just don't want other men to eye fuck my hot girlfriend."

You grab Seungcheol's face and pull out all the stops in terms of kissing. You get messy, tongue and teeth clashing with each other. His hands roam over your thighs and your ass, gripping your skin like a starved animal.

"I am the only one who can eye fuck you and fuck you properly." He groans between kisses.

"Fuck, I know, Cheollie, I'm always yours." You whimper and grind your covered pussy over his crotch, your lips cascading over his jawline. "That pussy is yours to ram your fat dick in, baby."

"That's right, Princess." He spanks your ass. "In fact, I want to ram my fat dick inside your pretty pussy until it molds to the shape of my dick."

"Just that?" You question him with a smirk.

"Always asking for more, aren't you?"

"Are you saying you'll resist cumming inside me?"

Seungcheol's expression turns dead serious.

"Um, Cheol?"

"Bedroom. Now."

"Why though? I mean, we've fucked on the couch before." You get up and he drags you towards the bedroom.

"I have a princess to breed and I want her to be comfortable."

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT with a reader who would literally get into a fist fight for them?? Literally, if someone even looks at them wrong reader will throw hands. It's literally that meme (Random person) "GET YO FUCKING DOG BITCH" (MCYT) "it don't bite" "YES IT FUCKIN DO-" I'm sorry I'm feeling silly 😔

OH MY FUCKING GOD I LOVE THIS PROMPT AND THE REFERENCE TO THIS MEME LMFAOOO OH MY LORD BSHWJRHEJJAJW ; very vine oriented so I apologize. you threw me into a loop referencing that

MCYT ; "anytime, anywhere, I'd beat a bitches ass for you"

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, slimecicle, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language, talk of blood/injuries, physical fighting, vine cringe because I got very carried away and you can tell

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he was one of those kids in high school that made light offensive jokes but would never fight anyone over anything, he's not a violent person at all other than in his jokes

but God forbid some random person look at you two weird in public, you're on their ass

you're more offended that they were judging Tommy at all, you couldn't care that they were judging you

"sorry, do you have a problem?" You squint your eyes at the person, "me and my boyfriend are just trying to shop and you keep following us around and staring, like, can I help you?"

just a teenage Karen

yall do take it outside when the motherfucker follows you out and begins to record you

you beat this fuckers ass to a PULP

Tommy's just holding the few bags of stuff you'd purchased staring down, jaw on the fucking floor like "Oh my God wtf do I do"

he had the vlog camera on so he kinda got it all on video before he pulled you away from the person

yall sprinted the hell away bc the security guards were running towards yall 😭😭

#neveridentified

#the person admitted guilt anyways and said they were planning to hurt you so no point in trying to track yall down for self defense

#i barely know the law shush

RANBOO

they just kind of accepted that you were like this

"I do not endorse violence unless you are y/n. I can't make them un-violent. I have tried, they're a vicious guard dog now"

hurricane Katrina? more like hurricane tortilla when you enter the building

yk the free style dance teacher vine? that'll be ranboo out in public and someone will stare at them all weird and you'll glare back

"walk away, walk away" you mumble, watching the person hurrily walk away as they see you like glaring daggers into their skull

your dynamic is the one vine that's like "Oh can I have a sip of your water?" and "It's not water or vodka, it's vinegar" "bitch what"

then you'll go make angsty edge lord posts to the one bojack horseman audio "I'm not a violent dog" and insert a clip of you beating the shit out of someone in high school

FREDDIE BADLINU

you post the "look at all those chickens" vine on your Twitter everytime you see a hate comment made for one of you

you love instigating fights w people online it's the funniest fucking thing

if you don't know how to reply to some dumbass edgelord response you'll just spam the guacamole vine until they shut up

"wait, why does y/n have so many soaps?"

"MIND YOUR FUCKIN BUISNESS DAVID"

Freddie's response to your violence is usually the saxophone seal vine. he genuinely laughs everytime he sees you fighting w someone online

sometimes you'll stream it while you wait for a response and while you're fighting online trolls who've been brainwashed by Twitter

"You're gay?!?!?!?11??11"

insert the "ms keisha dead" vine and the battle is over idk what to say

fight fire with fire I guess

NIKI NIHACHU

she hates yet loves that you'd fight ppl for her

oh, someone treated her wrong? you'll be trending on Twitter for fighting the person

#y/u/n will literally be at number 1 for a week

people edit the fight too

she appreciates it though, even though she doesn't exactly like to promote violence, she'll accept it from you

"Oh, don't worry about them, they're just a little... nervous around people sometimes"

"nervous? girl that mf is SNARLING at me"

you'll see a post that's like "me when someone tries to start shit w my s/o" and reply with the "hahaha I do that" vine

when I tell you she CACKLES reading online fights with people 😭🙏

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

"get the F off my yard!" proceeds to have to drag you away from situations where someone's actin a little funny in a /neg way

he genuinely thinks you fighting people for him is funny

he'll tell the stories on stream and to his friends like "dude they fucked this guy up, I honestly feel bad for laughing"

honestly most the time it's people victimizing themselves

like that one meme where the lady very obviously and fakely falls over that bench on LIVE TELEVISION.

he's your biggest supporter

he's the old guy from that one vine of the kid singing "Oh wait a minute mister postman" and he does the whole ass high note

"here's y/n fighting someone for idk what because they're talking to the police 😋"

you're a problem at this point

QUACKITY

you've physically fought so many wild racists for him it's crazy

he'll gladly cheer you on

"AHHHH COME GET YO DOG BRO HELP"

"Oh it don't bite"

you proceed to bite the bitch

online fights are usually responded w the purple teletubby twerking meme

"L don't be a weak ass racist pussy next time"

you fight Logan Paul for some reason??? Twitter drama mostly

don't worry quackitys there to watch

17-3 don't worry... ehehehrhahahha

when he tells you that you need to stop instigating fights you send him the "They ask you how you are but you just have to say that you're fine when you're not really fine" meme BAHDNHAHA

FOOLISH GAMERS

"YOU KNOW WHAT DUDE? IM OUTTA HERE" vine in a nutshell with you two. I can't explain this but it makes sense I swear

"whatd you do to your eyebrows?" meme except its "Whyd you fight that person!?" "I don't really know!"

Twitter fights are like "and they were roommates!" "ohmygodtheywereroomates" I swear to fucking god

you love instigating shit with Twitter trolls

when you stand up for him/reply to edgelord haters for him he replies with the "country boy I love youuuuuuu" vine

"GIVE ME YOUR FUCKIN MONEY!" vine with the law and order intro is literallt how physical fights go

let's just say some stalker edgelords tracked you guys down at the streamer awards...

HE AND PUNZ GENUINLEY CHEER YOU ON

here you go trending on Twitter again

[nadvs]

hi I’m current obsessed with swte universe 😭

would you write a blurb showing us how rafe and the reader dealt with the pregnancy? Specially after finding out it was twins. Like her mood changes and how Rafe dealt with all of that. Oh and if you could also show us about the day the babies were born 🥹🎉

omg thank you so much 🥹 yes of course!! i wrote a little pregnancy blurb and will do the birth story separately 🥰

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe is already protective as hell. but when he finds out she’s pregnant, it reaches a new level. he doesn’t even let her try to reach something off of the top shelf in the kitchen.

“i need to be active,” she says to him as he hands her the pan she was trying to grab. “it’s not good for me or the baby if i don’t move around.”

“then take walks,” rafe says, towering over her. “but if you need to reach something, get me.”

“what if you’re not home?”

“then wait for me to get home.”

she rolls her eyes, irritated but mostly endeared that he’s being so careful.

she gets morning sickness. and afternoon sickness. and night sickness. every time she retches in the bathroom and rafe is home to hear it, she comes out to see him standing by the door, a concerned wince on his face and a glass of water in his hand.

“you okay?” he asks.

she just shakes her head no and takes the glass.

when she reaches eight weeks, they go for her first ultrasound. she can tell something’s up when the technician who’s scanning her stomach seems to straighten up a few minutes in, then continues to take photos.

“is everything okay?” she asks nervously.

“yup,” the tech says. a few gruelling minutes pass by before she turns the screen towards her and rafe.

“i just wanted to confirm before telling you,” the tech explains, “i’m detecting two heartbeats. you’re having twins.”

they speechlessly watch the black and grey screen, following the tech’s finger as she points at a faint blinking.

“there’s one…” she says, then moves, “and two.”

“two,” rafe repeats. he’s still wrapping his head around the fact that he just saw his baby’s heartbeat, let alone two. he meets eyes with his girlfriend, both of them astonished.

a smile grows on his face, his warm hand wrapping around hers. but she’s still in shock.

“w-wow,” she stutters. “you’re sure?”

“positive,” the tech replies.

“i guess, um,” she says, “i guess my doctor will talk to me about it, but is there a higher risk of complications?”

all she’s been reading about is general, common, one-baby pregnancy. this is throwing her for a loop.

“it’s different for every woman,” she tells her, “but you’ll probably have more appointments than you expected just because doctors prefer to monitor multiple births closer.”

“okay,” she says. “thank you.”

“i’ll be sending the images to your doctor and she’ll follow up,” she says, handing her a wad of paper towels. “congratulations. i’ll give you some space to clean the gel and you can head out the same way you came in.”

the tech leaves the room. she meets her boyfriend’s eyes, still unable to crack a smile.

“you okay?” rafe asks.

“i’m…” she begins. “i can’t believe this. this whole time, i’ve been picturing… but there’s… there’s two?”

“there’s two,” he says. he can see how anxious she is. “i’ll be with you through it all.”

“i’m gonna get huge,” she says, shaking her head as she wipes the gel off her stomach.

“i hope so,” he replies. “future nba stars in there. they need to be tall.”

“god,” she says. “twins. why’d you do this to me?”

“i’m efficient.”

she meets his eyes, finally smiling.

“i’m glad you’re so happy,” she tells him.

he looks at her with soft eyes. he knows she’s still harboring a fear that rafe will treat their child like she was treated by her father. he’s learned not to take it personally. but even if he did, he’s determined not to stress her out at all through these nine months, so he wouldn’t say anything anyway.

“are you? happy?” he asks. he realizes he’s kind of fearful, too. maybe she’ll just be worried throughout the pregnancy. maybe they will face complications.

“yes,” she breathes. “i just need to shock to wear off first.”

sure enough, the doctor confirms it. she tells them that multiple pregnancies are riskier, but that they’ll monitor her closely.

as she gets heavier, she gets more irritable and demanding. rafe hates himself for it, but he gets frustrated at times, especially when he’s had a long day and comes home to their penthouse condo to see her on the couch, looking like she’s annoyed he’s home.

he never says anything when he’s irritated. but she can read him like a book.

“why are you mad at me?” she snaps, following him into the bedroom one night after he gets home from the gym.

“i didn’t say a word,” rafe mumbles.

“i can see it on your face,” he says. “what, is it because i don’t have dinner waiting? the smell of anything cooking makes me hurl, you know.”

“i know,” he says, throwing his gym clothes in the hamper. “i’m not mad.”

“can’t you look at me?”

rafe sighs and turns to look at her, her belly round and protruding under her shirt.

“you’re not even happy to be home,” she says, her hands on her hips.

“i am,” he says. “i’m just tired.”

“and i’m not? i have not one, but two things draining me of everything in me every second of every day. i don’t get any breaks. i can’t sleep.”

“i know,” he breathes. “i’m sorry. did you eat?”

“you think i’m stupid enough to be skipping meals? i’m nourishing them,” she says, touching her stomach. “don’t worry about that.”

“i meant…” rafe scratches the back of his neck. he refuses to lose his temper on her when she’s in this state; especially because she’s suffering for both of them. “for you. did you eat?”

“yes,” she says, her hard expression faltering a bit.

“can i get you anything? you have any cravings?”

“not right now,” she replies.

he nods and turns to finish emptying his gym bag.

“i’m making a protein shake soon. you want one, too?” he asks, his back to her.

she sighs, tears welling up in her eyes, and steps forward, putting her arms around him, her stomach pushing against his lower back.

“i’m sorry i’m such a bitch,” she mumbles, sniffling.

“don’t say that. you’re not a bitch,” he says. he’s used to her mood swings by now, but she usually just goes from indifferent to angry and back. she hasn’t cried in a while.

“i can see myself being crazy but i can’t stop,” she admits. “and i’m nervous about tomorrow. i hope they’re doing okay. i still haven’t felt them move.”

her twenty-week ultrasound is tomorrow. they’ll be finding out the twins’ genders.

rafe turns and plants a slow, gentle kiss on her forehead. he exhales slowly as she shudders with her cries.

“they’re doing great,” he says. “all the appointments and check-ups have been good. and whatever they end up being, we’ll love them.”

“you’re right.” she sighs and tilts her chin to kiss him. she hates that she can’t remember the last time they kissed. she feels like all she’s been doing lately is whining and puking.

“how are you?” she asks.

“good.”

“how are you really?”

“i can’t complain.” he puts a hand on her belly. “i’m not the one with two things draining me every second of every day.”

“you’re allowed to be tired, too,” she says. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s all good, baby,” he says. “let’s watch something and pass out on the couch.”

“deal.”

the next day, they learn that she’s carrying a boy and a girl. rafe can’t believe how lucky he is.

when he falls asleep next to his girlfriend that night, curled up behind her, his hand on her belly, he feels a light, almost imperceptible movement on his palm.

“oh, my god,” she whispers into the dark. “did you feel that?”

“was that…?”

“it was,” she says, choking up. “one of them saying hi.”

rafe shuffles closer and kisses her neck a hundred times, gently rubbing her tummy. he still can’t get the way they looked on the ultrasound screen out of his head. he can’t fully comprehend that this is really happening, that this is his life, playing professionally and expecting babies with the only girl he’s ever loved.

he can take her mood swings. he can take her any way. as long as she’s with him.

a few days later, she suggests rafe go on a trip with his friends since it’s the off season. he asks her why and she tells him “so you get a break from me.”

rafe chuckles and kisses her before he tells her, “i don’t need a break from my best friend. what’d i tell you? you won’t do any of this alone.”

by the third trimester, she’s heavy and uncomfortable, but she’s not throwing up anymore. her mood swings are more manageable. at this point, she’s scared for the delivery, fully aware that babies can always come early, especially twins, but she’s excited to finally meet them.

and every chance he gets, rafe kisses her forehead, then gives two kisses to her stomach, telling his son and his daughter that he loves them.

she’s amazed at this side of him. she already knew beneath his aggressive, temperamental exterior was a fiercely protective man with a big heart. but the way he’s been treating her, even when she’s been so difficult and unreasonable, is astonishing.

and she can’t wait to see him as a father. she realizes now that she has no doubt that he’ll always make their children feel loved.

[artyandink]

amoralism | one

Summary: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

A/N - I said I’d post on Friday but surprise! Also, as a note, I have no intention of completely relating to realism (even though I’m pretty sure that’s a title of a chapter). This will be almost like an action/romance movie, and the format is sort of like that too.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Shameless - Camila Cabello

narcissism

Fifty-Shots Bar had never had this many patrons before.

Clinking of glasses, the bellow of random toasts, tapping of the bar for another round, the whole trifecta played on loop until all those glasses came down on the counter and all the beefy men downing those drinks like water would slap the back of the tallest in the lot, forcing that dude with the unreasonably gorgeous hair to bend to their height from the pressure.

“What’s the occasion, boys?” The lady on shift, Jenna, chuckled. She was intrigued as to why the festivities were so… robust, but then one of the guys shoved the tall one forward, clapping his shoulder in a way that knocked the latter’s breath out.

“Ah, nothing.” The taller one tried playing it off, but the shorter wouldn’t hear of it. His green eyes shone mischievously as he ruffled the tall guy’s hair. Jenna’s eyes couldn’t help but trail down the patron’s, well, everything. Short blonde hair, five o’clock shadow on the sharpest jawline she’d ever seen. Lips always in a pout, daring her to kiss it away until they bruised. Casual denim shirt nothing short of tempting, as tight as a damn straitjacket over that broad, no doubt kissable chest. Arms framed in his sleeves, probably bore enough strength to throw her around like a ragdoll and he wouldn’t break a sweat.

She bit her lip. Oh Lord, this man was either from heaven or hell and she wouldn’t complain either way.

“It’s not nothing.” He laughed, shaking his head. “My brother Sam here took down a big-time multi level marketing scheme. So damn modest.” Another clap of Sam’s shoulder. However, he seemed to have clocked Jenna and her obvious admiration of his entire being, a quirk of the corner of his mouth having her knees like jelly. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

She giggled, her finger twirling her hair around her finger as if she was a little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Jenna. What’s yours?”

“Dean Winchester.” He took her hand, kissing her knuckle and letting his lips linger, smouldering eye contact sending shivers down her spine. “Agent Dean Winchester. Say, Jenna, what time do you get off?”

“When you do.” She breathed, and the low chuckle from Dean had her snapping back into her senses but also getting a very noticeable ache between her thighs. “Um, in an hour.”

Sam had already left. He wasn’t in the mood for watching very visible eye-banging.

Champagne. Chauvinists. The classic fancy, downtown party hosted by a family that owned half of Chicago. Flashing lights, a pair of eyes on you at all times… it was rather an overwhelming feeling, one that you couldn’t shake.

You didn’t know whether to feel confident or hunted in the red dress that you wore, satin and navy and with an open back- all things nice and very attractive to men. Your makeup and blonde (for today) hair done like a movie star and getting the attention of every man in the room, regardless of age.

“And who might you be, sweets?” A very Southern accent drawled from behind you, and you turned around, making a show of playing the innocent yet extremely attractive and mysterious lady at the most extravagant birthday party you had ever seen.

You were playing a stereotype. You hated stereotypes.

“Anna Raleigh.” You responded smoothly, and he seemed to buy it, taking your hand and kissing the knuckle, the creepy eye contact urging you to snatch your hand back and scrub it with an antiseptic wipe.

“Miss Raleigh, you are a work of art. Name’s Matthias Aldrich.” He practically purred, and that sent a cold shiver up your spine.

You put on a polite, smitten smile, though you were inwardly rolling your eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

Matthias tucked a strand of your blonde hair behind your ear. “I’ve always been fond of women who are the golden type of blonde. Hope this is natural.”

You took a crouton from a passing tray, popping it in your mouth and chewing on it, answering once you’d swallowed the bite. You’d done it quick because you could see this dude’s eyes on your lips as you chewed. “I say, these croutons are quite dry, no?”

The door to Jenna’s apartment burst open, her and Dean stumbled in, lips locked, door closing with a well-timed click and moans echoing amid breathy sighs. Dean’s jacket fell just as Jenna’s fingers tugged on his hair, causing him to jolt and let out a growl, groaning as he bent to kiss her neck. “Just like that.” He murmured, nipping and assaulting the tanned skin. Only detaching to pull her skimpy tank over her head, revealing a hot pink, lace bra.

She’s freaky. He liked that.

“You like?” She breathed, ample chest heaving as her teeth worried her bottom lip, batting her eyelashes. Putting on a show for him.

“Mmh.” He hummed, nodding before he reached for the clasp, effortlessly undoing it. It fell to the floor, and he clicked his tongue with a grin. “Better.”

“Much.” She purred, kissing him hotly and leading them to the bedroom.

Pushing.

Pulling.

Grinding.

Jenna’s legs wrapping around his waist, courtesy of Dean putting them there. Moans. Groans. Whimpers. Cries and low mutters of each other’s name. The room heating up and pulsing with enough pressure to forge a diamond.

The bed creaking. Headboard banging. High pitched moans that belong in a porno. Groans of ‘just like that’ and whines of ‘right there’ and ‘don’t stop’.

Not even after a minute after your comment about the dry croutons, the building was stormed. Armed personnel burst through every exit, holding up automatics and yelling for everyone to get their hands up, while you were taken by the arm by one of the people yelling ‘FBI! Hands where we can see them!’ and dragged in a way which appeared rough.

You were led kicking and screaming into a side van, and the moment the door slid shut, you snapped out of it, pulling the wig off. “About time, eh, boys?”

“At least we got your signal.” One protested, while another snorted.

“Dry croutons? Really?” He rolled his eyes, spinning on the chair, raising a pointed eyebrow at you. “With all due respect, it could be something less outlandish.”

“Then it would be too easy to miss, Velasquez.” You retorted, grabbing a makeup wipe and beginning to practically scrub it all off. Also taking an antiseptic wipe and a bottle of hand sanitizer to rid your hand of Matthias Aldrich’s lips. “And since when do I work like I’m a basic, sweater wearing, background blending Gertrude?”

“She has a point, Velasquez.” One agent quipped as he went by. You pointed after him with a smirk.

“Willis gets it.” You grinned, shrugging. “Why can’t you? Have a heart, Velasquez.”

“Yeah, have a heart.”

“Shut up!” Velasquez yelled after him, and got the middle finger from Willis in response.

“You ready to report to the CO, Agent?” Willis asked you, passing you a mug of coffee, which you gratefully sipped.

“When am I not?” You chuckled, letting the warm liquid wash over your throat. “Now, I don’t care what you two clowns do, I need these guys behind bars for two lifers at least. I’ve been hunting down these sons of bad mothers for months. I’m not having any slip ups, no buy ins nor outs. Every. Exit. Sealed.” You looked between the two with an intense glare, no nonsense and all business. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Morning afters were always hard for Dean. He had a rule that he followed to the T.

Mind blowing sex? Doesn’t matter, leave before he gets attached and she gets hurt.

“Sorry, Jen, I’d stay, but I’m late for work.” He hurriedly buttoned his denim shirt, trying not to get distracted by the sight of the girl in the sheets, naked body only a thin layer of cotton away.

All he had to do was peel it.

“Aw, handsome, I thought you’d stay for round six.” Jenna giggled, looking him up and down. Inside, Dean was rolling his eyes in frustration. They always got clingy after the best night of their life. Then again, that was purely his fault.

“I would, trust me, darlin’.” He cleared his throat, walking into the living room and finding his jacket and keys, along with his belt. That was important.

Jenna stepped in as well, clad in a silk robe that made her look no short of delectable. But he had to resist. Stick to the damn code. “Y’know, I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.”

She was trying a hit. God, she was trying hard. Dean had to physically resist going back for another hit. She was clingy, sure, but there was a huge double standard there.

“Are you, now?” He smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. “Careful, sweetheart, or I might sextuple dip.”

“Maybe I want you to.” She winked, and it had him chuckling, looking down and then back at her.

“Tempting. Very tempting.”

You stepped into the office, your heels making small taps on the floor as you went, signing in and showing your ID at the register before making your way inside. You’d been told to take a rest for a few days before you returned to your post in the HQ at DC, but who were you to listen?

And everyone knew it too, because the very moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with a show of applause and cheers from your colleagues. “Tenth drug ring of your career.” Agent Lafitte clapped your shoulder, chuckling. “You’re on a roll, sister.”

“Cool it with the flattery, Benny, I’m on a time crunch.” You snorted, shaking your head and holding a hand out for a case file, which was dropped into your hand as you continued walking.

“Hi.” There was a blonde girl beside you, hair pulled up into a ponytail, presumably the one who handed the fine to you. “Agent Jo Harvelle. I used to work narcotics, but they’re giving me a trial in Major Crimes. I was told by the CO to shadow you, so I can get a good sense of the ropes.”

While looking through the files, you glanced up at Agent Harvelle, seeing the eager look on her face. Rather like you when you started, and the eager ones made good agents. With a little tough love. “Yeah, a’ight. CO’s called me for a briefing, so it’ll be up to him whether you stay or step out.”

“About that drug ring you busted?” She grinned. “I was told. By practically everyone. How are you that skilled?”

“Ain’t my first rodeo, hon.” You smirked as you reached the boss’ office, rapping twice on the door with your knuckles and earning a polite ‘come in’.

That you did, finding your superior officer, Senior Agent Robert Singer, standing behind his desk, nose deep in a file while his ear was being talked off by… oh, boy.

Agent Winchester.

“So I quickly take my gun, aim it between his eyes,” He held up finger guns and aimed them to prove his point, completely disregarding your arrival, hideously typical, “and I said ‘hands up or I’ll reenact Rambo’. Genius, am I right?”

You cleared your throat sharply.

That got Agent Winchester’s attention, his green eyes zeroing in on you and giving you memories back that you tried to dispose of in the first place. A smirk twitched at those lips that were once too close to be professional before they stretched into a grin, pearly whites flashing. “Mornin’, Agent. Surprised to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing.” You pressed your lips together (and your thighs, but you’d never admit that), turning to Agent Singer instead. “Should I leave Harvelle outside, sir?”

“That’s ideal.” Singer nodded, so you signalled to Harvelle to stay outside as you closed and locked the soundproof door. You passed the file on the Brierson drug ring to him, which he checked over. “Impressive work, as always. This’ll land them behind bars for sure.”

“Always the perfectionist, aren’t you?” Winchester quipped, arms folded across his chest with a smug smirk. Your brow twitched; you knew exactly why he was highlighting that word in bold, italics, whatever he was intending to do. You’d just rather not think about it.

You scanned him over, adding all the facts in your head. His shirt wasn’t ironed. Belt was wonky. Hair looked like it had a comb desperately run through it but failed to tame it. Faint hint of something red you recognised as a lipstick smear on his jugular and a sliver of a purple bruise that disappeared under his collar. Which was hastily pulled up. His tie done in the simplest knot ever and still looked tragic.

He got here in quite the rush.

“Nice night?” You shot back, a full smirk tugging at your lips and making his drop. He gave you a look which blatantly said smartass, while you proudly notched that win on your belt.

Singer looked between the two of you before tapping his desk. “Entertaining, but not why you’re both here. We’ve found ourselves in a fix. Franz Brierson wasn’t at that party.”

Your blood ran cold. That guy was the big boss, the guy who started it all, got everyone on his payroll. If he was loose… but he couldn’t be loose. Unless you didn’t check?

“I’ve been looking into it for the past five hours. That’s right, I got here early.” Singer huffed out a breath. “There’s a chance that our big boss was notified beforehand. A mole that told him we were coming.”

“A mole. In the FBI.” Dean muttered, now serious as he rubbed a hand into his mouth. “We’ve been clean for years.”

“It’s the only explanation.” You piped up, shaking your head as you began to pace. Heels tapping, Dean’s eyes fixating on the sway of your hips and your ass in that getup at the wrong goddamn moment. “That operation was airtight. No room for error. Only someone on the inside could have leaked that info.”

“You two are the best Major Crimes has. Most arrests, most drug and crime busts I’ve seen on a record in all my years of being here.” Singer folded his arms, looking between the two of you. “I don’t know the whats, whens, whos, hows, whys of what happened when you two were last assigned on a case together, but I need this operation to stay in this circle right here.” He faced you. “When you’re working this case, Agent Harvelle can’t be there. It’s gonna be hard to shake, but you can handle it. As for you,” Singer shot an exasperated look at Winchester, “look presentable!”

“I look hot.” Dean pouted, now holding his jacket over his shoulder with it hooked on his index.

“Hot isn’t FBI. Go sort yourself out, or I’ll get your brother to do it. I need to oversee operations.” Singer left the room and the tense air between you and Dean, which you faced head on.

“So,” You started in a lilting voice, which he recognised instantly as your teasing tone and prompting an eye roll before the words left your lips, “was she good?”

“Shut up.” He groaned, shaking his head as he pulled his suit jacket back on. “None of your damn business. It’s an intimate exploration, not exhibitionism.” He lowered his voice so you couldn’t hear. “Though she’d probably be into that.”

“Are we calling sex an intimate exploration now?” You scoffed lightly, laughing afterwards. “You’re such a sappy romantic.”

“Asshole.” He shot back. Two can play, Winchester.

“Dumbass.”

“Smartass.”

“Jackass.”

“We gotta stop using ‘ass’ in every sentence.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair and picking up the file to busy himself. But the file was picked out of his hands, left carelessly on the desk, your lips claiming his something sinful.

Something that had him moaning, gripping your hips and his mouth soft, pliable, agreeable to your every want and need. He was all yours, and that was all it took to silence him.

Well, not really silence him, but details weren’t necessary. Not when your plush lips were pressing against his neck like that. Hot, open mouthed. Insistent. Rousing. Dizzying. Intoxicating.

He’d be damned if he ever got enough.

His shirt was soon hanging open, tie discarded as the marks of that sexy lipstick shade littered his torso, and he wasn’t complaining. He definitely wasn’t complaining when you sank to your knees, unbuckling his belt as your tongue traced his abs. Didn’t dare when his slacks pooled to the floor, boxers dropping next, his hand tangling in your hair as-

“Hey.” Your fingers snapped in front of him, taking him out of his delightful daydream, however ill-timed. He swallowed, giving himself a once over. No tie discarded, no shirt undone, no lipstick marks and definitely no you looking so sexy on your knees for him. Having him whine for you.

That was a thought worth biting his lip to.

“You with me?” You continued, and upon his shaky nod, you gave him a weird look before continuing on with your briefing. He inwardly wiped sweat off his brow, thankful to whatever god was watching for the lucky save.

You were sipping a late-night decaf coffee as you contemplated the case again, dressed in your worst-looking pyjamas with an old tea stain on the front and fuzzy socks. Had you scoped the party properly, you could’ve clocked if big man Brierson was actually there. But he’d known, he’d known, and now everyone in Major Crimes was under investigation.

By you.

Well, and Agent Winchester, but you’d rather not think of him. You’re actually not quite sure what happened between you two, all that you broke your own rules for your heart to be broken too. You focused on your job, he had fun. Your cycle went that way.

You’d find a new case, he’d find a new girl. Both to busy yourselves so you wouldn’t have to think about each other, which worked until now.

You got a phone call, and you mindlessly picked it up, irritated as you were pulled from your contemplative thoughts. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

‘Dean, so nice to hear from you.’ You heard, his voice mimicking yours before switching back to his. ‘Wow, Agent, colour me surprised; it’s nice to hear from you too. How are you, Dean? I’m perfectly fine, sweetheart, how are you? You’re so polite.’

“Do I sound like someone to engage in small talk right now?” You deadpanned among chuckles at his own joke, putting your dinner - leftovers - in the microwave. God, you weren’t in the mood for this.

Eventually his snickers subsided, and he cleared his throat as you set the mug down. ‘Duly noted. You’re boring. Anyway, about the mole case. I think we should meet up in the office tomorrow to draw up a list of potential suspects.’

You took your warmed dinner, placing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you stabbed the spaghetti with a fork, chewing as you spoke. “And I think you’re insane. That’s the place we’re casing. Why in the hell would we start drafting up names there?”

You heard Dean clear his throat at the end of the line. ‘Right. Got it. My place?’ Truth is, Dean had been hoping you’d say anything but ‘let’s not draft at the office’. He was scared he’d lift you up on the nearest surface and do what he hadn’t the previous time, mark you, claim you and then let you claim him, mark him, wreck him. He didn’t know what you two were, or what you’d become.

Maybe strangers with very intense, deep seated sexual tension.

“What time?” You asked through yet another bite of spaghetti. You weren’t about to forgo dinner for this dude, cordiality be damned.

‘Tomorrow, straight after hours, just head to my place. Does that work for you?’

“Mm, yeah.” You nodded, setting down your plate to quickly note it in your schedule. “See you then, Agent Winchester.”

‘Call me Dean.’

“Agent Winchester.” It was the least you could do after how things got last time. Again, you’d rather not talk about it.

You walked into the DC office after registering, briefing with Agent Singer before heading to the break room, where you found Trainee Agent Harvelle, Trainee Agent Kevin Tran, Agent Benjamin Lafitte, Agent Garth Fitzgerald and Agent Sam Winchester.

You knew Sam. He was a damn sight more respectful and less… Dean-esque than his older brother. Smarter, yet less effective on brute force raids. For that, you needed Dean Winchester. Anything research, or hacking into databases, Sam was your guy.

“Agents.” You smiled awkwardly, not knowing how else to greet them as you went straight for the coffee pot. Thank the Lord for the petition to make the standard of coffee in that jug better that got the vote from every damn person in the department.

HR and Maintenance can suck it.

“Agent.” The rest of them replied, identically sipping cups of Joe.

“Agents.” Singer walked in, holding a file. “Briefing room. Now.” He walked out, and you all followed suit, taking your coffees with you because you needed the caffeine to sustain your brains. Once you all stepped into the briefing room, where Agent Winchester and Agent Nick Garrison were waiting.

Singer grunted, pulling up a slideshow on the board. “Let’s get this over with.” He showed bodies, robbed banks, hostage situations. “Six occurrences of organised crime over the past four weeks. All hitting major municipalities. Now it’s our jurisdiction.”

“What have we got from the crime scenes?” Agent S. Winchester asked, brow furrowed in thought.

“Nothing but this snake logo, spray painted at every scene.” Up comes a logo of a rearing cobra.

You shrugged, quickly figuring something out. “Well, that solves half of the mystery. They want our attention.”

“It is possible.”

“I think it’s a temper tantrum.” You snorted, pointing to the board. “Look at where they’re hitting. Large cities, maximum damage, it’s a cry out for our beady eyes. Leaving a logo at the scene? Someone either wants to get caught or lead us on.”

“Sounds kinda like girls at a bar.” Agent D. Winchester snickered, but earned a weird look from everyone in the room. “What? I make my own style of analogies, don’t come at me for it.”

“Who’s on the team, sir?” Lafitte asked, the man all slow drawl, suave talk and suspenders.

You pointed to Agent D. Winchester, smirking. “Leave him out, his main interests are girls and booze.”

“Blow me.” He scoffed in retaliation, glaring at you. That was a mistake on Dean’s part, cause he started to imagine it. Oh, that memory’s vivid as hell.

“Beg for it.” You shot back, and despite the steady inflation of awkwardness, he really had half a mind to beg for it, honour be damned to hell.

Pin drop silence. Shared smirks. Uncomfortable eye contact between you and Dean, your minds going to places they really shouldn’t.

Agent Singer cleared his throat, then continued talking. “I want you,” he pointed to you, “and the two Agent Winchesters and Agent Lafitte on it, and the two trainees Agent Tran and Harvelle to shadow. You’re dismissed, except for you two.”

Didn’t take a genius to know who ‘you two’ were.

So everyone but you and Agent D. Winchester filtered out, and the moment the door closed, you were both less bickering, head chopping and heart ripping. More on business.

“This is a good chance for you two to scout for our mole.” Singer looked between the two of you pointedly. “As much unknown history as you two have, you idjits need to set that aside. For the sake of our damn Major Crimes unit. Narcotics will give me hell if I don’t sort this out. And the board of directors will be less pleased that we’ve been compromised.”

“We understand, sir.” You nodded, understanding how goddamn serious this was. Lives were on the line. Your jobs, the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s maintained integrity. “We can put aside our differences, can’t we, daddy’s boy?” You smirked at Dean, then pretended to realise that you’d made a mistake. “Oh, my bad. Agent Winchester.”

Dean resisted a clapback with all his might. He didn’t care if their CO was right there, he’d bend you over this desk and show you who’s really in control here.

That would wipe the smirk off those pretty lips. Replace it with his claim over you.

“So, Dean, I wanna know.” Sam smirked, cracking open a beer and passing it to his older brother. “What’s with you and her?”

Dean scoffed, sipping the beer and shaking his head. “I’m asked this fifty times a day. There’s nothing going on here. We’re work colleagues. She’s incredibly annoying, and grating, and infuriating, and I’m extremely handsome.”

That got a wider smirk from Sam, a knowing one. “You knew who I was talking about.”

That caught Dean out, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Say what?”

“You have so many girls in your life that half of your contacts are women.” Sam raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. “But you knew who I was referencing first try.”

“Humour me, Sammy.” Dean grimaced, folding his arms. “How do you label intense sexual tension that was almost acted on yet it almost broke our personal set of rules? Hm? Thought so.”

“So, she’s kind of like an old flame.”

“That flame ain’t lit.”

Sam nodded slowly, giving a breathless chuckle and an inclination of his head. “Yeah. Sure.” He stepped out of the room to head upstairs, which alerted Dean of the implication. He rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Hey! Sammy!”

NEXT UP:

“Oh, honey, such a flirt!” You laughed in a posh accent, mimicking your mother’s laugh to the best of your ability while you swatted Dean’s chest. He smirked at the look in your eyes, because goddamn was it obvious that you hated this.

“Darlin’, I can’t help myself around you.” He turned to the other charity goers with a proud smirk, gesturing to all of you. “Can’t keep my hands off my gorgeous wife. Might have to have something off the menu for dessert, if you catch my drift.” He winked at some elderly ladies, who giggled and waved him off.

“Such a charming boy.” One cooed, obviously eyeing Dean up with poorly restrained envy. While you looked around for your target, you missed the way Dean’s eyes travelled down your body in that form-fitting red dress, v-neck, v-back, thigh slit where he knew you had a thigh holster strapped in, all the good stuff. And his eyes were on those scarlet heels.

He was imagining ramming into you with those sexy things on. And that dress, well, it’d be off in second if he had the chance. And that lipstick? Well, it’d be smeared and leaving prints on his neck, chest, abs and- that’s going a bit too unprofessional.

Like, comment or reblog! I’d love to hear your feedback. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

TAGLIST:

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To be added to any character’s taglist of mine, find my form on my master list.

[lookforsomeoneelse]

New Simulated Universe Update (SAHSRAU btw)

Can you tell i made a d in english? because I didn’t. Sorry about that. Anyway, I had some brainrot about how busted our blessings would be in sahsrau SU, because, like, everybody and their mother in that au would basically throw everything they love out of the window for us to throw a single glance at them. Also, this takes inspo from other works. Yeah, yeah, I’m a plagiarist, I know.

Let’s say you play Honkai: Star Rail. You’re a big fan- you’ve been playing since launch, have an excellent team comp, and have cleared all of the story and side content.

However, the game’s been… in a content drought for a while, roughly about 3 months without a single update- not even a patch or bug fix! That’s odd. Hoyo would have normally announced at least a single character by now, wouldn’t they?

And, getting extremely bored, and with nothing else to do, you seriously consider taking a break from the game. After all, there’s nothing to do.

Except farm. And you’re getting tired of even that.

But just then, a miracle happens- or at least it’s a miracle to you. The game finally gets an update. You’re confused- they should have announced that in some shape or form, but you also get excited. What have they added this time?

And then you find out, much to your dissatisfaction and/or disappointment, that they just doubled down and just added in a new version of the Simulated Universe, called “Simulated Universe: New Game +” to “fix” the lack of content- they’re just making you do SU again- but hey, they also added another Aeon along with it, so that should count for lore!

So you go and wait for it to download and open it up.

When you do, you’re notified in game of a text message from Herta. Uncharacteristically, its tone is noticeably off from how she normally acts- practically begging you to please please please come to her office- because apparently, she’s dug up some info on this new Aeon that’s apparently been around for the longest time, and she’s finally managed to obtain enough data to create a simulated version of THEM- thirsty for something to do, you oblige, using a space anchor to reach her. Surprisingly, there’s only one available for your use.

Once you actually arrive, a cutscene plays, depicting Herta, once again very much out of character, grabbing on to the trailblazer’s arm and practically dragging them across the space station to her office, the widest grin on the puppet’s face. “Huh,” you think to yourself, “She must have struck gold if she’s acting all crazy like this.”

Once you actually make it inside- Herta finally gives you a complete explanation of what’s happening- she’s “finally” dug up enough information about this Aeon that you “should already know” and that you should also “start immediately.”

You do, and you’re met with a new path for blessings- Guidance, and holy cow, is-is that 300% break effect and 180% damage and 50% crit rate boost? What? That’s insane- what is the dev team doing with their game???

Obviously, you pick it- it’s the only option available, and even if there were other options, this one would likely be the best.

As you and your party traverse through the station, and obtain absolutely absurd blessings- all damage dealt will have the character gain a shield equal to half of that permanently, follow up attacks trigger twice, all characters gain a self-revive- it’s really bad balancing on Hoyoverse’s part, and it’s the greatest power trip you’ve had while playing this game so far. But it’s also getting boring. One shotting everything isn’t exactly the best thing to do on loop, and the game throws you a bone in the form of finally meeting the Aeon that Herta was talking about.

However, before that happens, Herta pulls you aside- and you can’t believe it, but she’s even more out of character now- hell, she’s fangirling, saying stuff like “I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I was a baby” and urging you to give the Aeon the absolute utmost respect- and to never forget to do it.

As it turns out, the so-called “interaction” between you and THEM is just dialogue describing how you will always serve and praise them for all eternity- and you seriously take into consideration getting whatever the hell the writers have been smoking over the past couple months to put this down on paper and call it a good idea.

Weirded out by very strange design choices, you decide that it’s time for a break after all is said and done, and close the app.

If this is the legitimate road that Hoyoverse is going down, you’re worried about the future of the game.

You should really be more worried about your future, sweetie. After all, they’re all working so hard to bring you to them through that screen.

They love you. So so much.

[superblysubpar]

<- part five | part seven -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: Is the game over?

the song: Pretty Please by Dua Lipa

also for your listening pleasure: Need You Tonight by INXS, Drive by The Cars, and...any guesses?

4,377 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / brief descriptions of scars / brief mentions of alcohol-being sober / SPICE/SMUT - fingering (reader receiving), hand job (reader performing), semi-public but not “caught” or visible | my blog is 18+

Hawkins, Indiana - the past

  “Hey,” he greeted you.

  Like it was normal. 

  Like he’d done it hundreds of times before.

  Steve Harrington stood on the sidewalk in front of The Hawk, smiling at you. A timid, tight lipped one, with hands shoved into the front pocket of his Levi’s. 

  You nodded your head, trying and failing to look anywhere but him, scuffing the toe of your sneaker against the sidewalk. His hair much longer than the last you spoke, curled around his ears and neck, a few pieces falling over his forehead. Broad shoulders and long legs, scruff dotting his jaw. 

  He leaned against the brick building now, hand removing his keys from his pocket so he could throw them and catch them, loop the ring around his finger and spin it. He looked at you and raised his eyebrows, “They’re late.”

  You mistook it as a question, answering agitated with a glare down the empty main street, “Yeah, they’re always late,” you sighed, then clarified,

“I’m meeting some friends.”

  Steve blinked at you, and then laughed, but covered it with a cough, rubbing at his jaw. “Yeah, me too.”

  Your shoulders rose at the thought, snarky Tommy and bitchy Carol who were sure to say something nasty to you and ruin your whole night. The awful pair showing up, while you were alone with Steve Harrington was not how your Friday night was supposed to go. 

  “Not Tommy and Carol,” Steve spoke softly to the tension filled shoulders in front of him, swallowing thickly, “Not friends with them anymore.”

  “Wow,” you crossed your arms, shielding yourself from memories and any possible outcome of this conversation, “Must have done something really high on the asshole meter for them to drop you.”

  Steve’s lips twitched when you looked at him, a slight smirk, a shoulder shrug before he admitted, “You could say that.”

  Your shoulders relaxed but your arms stayed wrapped around you, squeezing yourself when Steve’s tongue slipped out over his top lip before he gestured to you, gaze unwavering from your face. “Ya know, I don’t think we’ve talked since-“

  “Sorry! Sorrysorrysorry!” Robin was running down the sidewalk, waving her hands and panting. Eddie was a few steps behind her, looking at you worried and with his hands in his leather jacket’s pockets. 

  “Eddie would like it known that he was not late, and that it was entirely my fault. But I could not find a pair of socks for the life of me and then the pair I found I couldn’t wear with my shoes and-“

  “Robin,” you laughed, interrupting the explanation that had no end in sight, “I told you the movie started a half hour before it did, you’re right on time.”

  She gasped, and pointed an accusatory finger at you but then frowned, turning to the boy still leaning against the brick. “But Dingus told me the same time.”

  Steve stood up straight and walked over slowly, explaining, “I did the same thing. Great minds think a like, I guess.”

  You stared at him. He stared at you. Your mouth parted to say absolutely not, hell no, over your dead body or some form of: you are not going to a movie with Steve Harrington, but Robin clapped and said, “Well, that popcorn’s not gonna eat itself!”

  She smiled at you nervously and then spun, grabbing Steve’s arm and pushing him towards the line in front of the ticket booth. 

  Leaving Eddie to face your wrath alone. His cheek pulled between his teeth and big, sorry eyes blinked at you as he leaned in with an offered hand, “You can squeeze it every time you feel like punching him.”

  You laced your fingers with his and squeezed as hard as you could until Eddie was shrieking, “Sweetheart! I have to play tomorrow, don’t break the money makers.” 

  Steve looked over his shoulder to see you laughing, holding Eddie Munson’s hand. 

    Family Video - Friday

  Steve Harrington kisses like you thought he would.

  Not that you’d thought about kissing him. 

  He’s confident and practiced, as his lips slip over yours, slotting together like you’d done it before. He’s a little eager, messy, hands squeezing at your hips as his tongue begs you to open for him. He’s unable to shut up, even when his mouth is preoccupied, a groan from his throat, a sigh from his nose against your cheek, a gasped pant of your name against your lips. 

  You kiss him like he didn’t expect. 

  You’re a little mean, which, okay, maybe he should have guessed that. Fingers tugging his hair in a way you couldn’t possibly know he likes but do as your teeth nip at his bottom lip. You’re needy with it, desperate, maybe frantic is the right word - mouth opening for him eagerly, hands slipping from his hair and tugging on his shirt collar, noses squished together when you kiss him with more power. 

  Both of you stumble backwards, Steve’s hands roaming so one can support your back and the other drifts lower, grazing over your thigh, past the hem of your dress to your knee, lifting your leg so it’s hitched on his hip as you fall backwards on top of the table. 

  He wishes he could have recorded the sound you made when the new position has you feeling how hard he is pressed up between your spread legs. His hand lays flat on the table, slipping on scattered papers as yours cling to his neck so you can roll your hips against the bulge of his Levi’s. 

  “We-fuck,” Steve speaks into your mouth, breath hitching when your back arches and you sigh underneath him again, “We should-“

  “Stop talking, Harrington,” you breathe into his mouth, fingers drifting to between the buttons of his polo. 

  He kisses you with increased urgency, a clash of lips and tongue and teeth while the fingers on your knee squeeze. A large hand skates up your thigh, taking the red cotton with it. You whimper when it stops at your hip, thumb swiping over the exposed skin, brushing at lace. He’s seeing stars behind his closed lids, mixed with images of pink lace beneath his sweatshirt. He needs to breathe, to wave the white flag, to talk about this. 

His thumb drags over the lace, following the crease of your thigh, as you gasp into his mouth the word please.

  He’ll breathe later. 

  Steve’s thumb finds wet lace and travels higher with precision and care that has your stomach dropping, flipping, and filling with warmth. Like you’re about to face a big fear, about to do something really stupid but exhilarating.

  About to feel Steve Harrington’s fingers on you where you’ve always wanted them but would never admit. 

  And then the door chimes and someone is calling out about a deliver from somewhere that feels far away and also incredibly too close.

  Steve jumps off of you, gasping for air as you shove at his shoulders. 

  His hair is messier than usual, and all you can think about is how good it felt beneath and between your fingers. Cheeks pink and pupils blown have pride shooting through your veins like a drug. Lips kiss slick and swollen and your stomach aches that they’re not on you anymore. A noticeably tight crotch of his jeans that has your chest sparking and fizzing and your legs clamping closed when his hand rubs at it. 

  You jump off of the table, and Steve’s cock twitches when you seem a little wobbly, a little dazed. A strap of cherry red fallen from your shoulder, chest heaving and begging for his lips and teeth to devour it. Lips glossy and eyes glassy reminding him of the word please.

  “I,” you gasp, “I have…”

  You’re gone, without finishing the thought, racing out of the back room, and only pausing long enough to grab your bag.

  Steve races past a delivery guy who blinks at him, bored, when he flashes a one second finger at him. 

  He follows you right out of the store and into the parking lot, calling your name and begging you to stop. 

  You do, facing him timidly, hands shaking. 

  Steve takes a step closer to you, forehead furrowed and looking like a kicked puppy as you avoid eye contact and gesture to the store.

  “I’ll…I’ll do the shipment unloading tomorrow morning. You can lock up and go home, I’ll-“

  “Where are you going? We need to talk about-“

  “No,” you close your eyes when he takes another step towards you, holding up your hand. 

  “Yes,” Steve says strongly, fingers slipping around your wrist when your palm meets his chest.

  Your eyes open to find your fingers close to the polo’s buttons you just undid, the bob of his adams apple and jaw clenched, the stare coming from honey eyes intent on trapping you and keeping you stuck there. 

  “No,” you say more confidently than you feel, “I’m going home and you’re going home and we’re going to forget about what just happened.”

  “What just happened?” Steve asks quietly.

  “Exactly,” you nod.

  “No,” Steve laughs, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist, “What just happened?”

  The summer sunset is beginning, golden and tangerine light casting him in unfairly flattering light. It’s making the green stand out in the gold and brown of his eyes. Making freckles along his nose and next to those eyes beg to be brushed by your lips. Making his pink lips even more kissable. It’s making you pretty sure you hear Peter Gabriel singing and Huey Lewis and that one song Steve’s always whistling playing like the soundtrack to a movie. 

  “Nothing,” you whisper, finger touching the button on the polo, “Nothing just happened and we’re gonna forget the nothing.”

  Steve’s fingers slip from your wrist into your palm, curling around your fingers as he lifts it to his lips and presses a gentle kiss there. 

  “As you wish.”

  With one last precise blow to your defenses, you stumble backwards, blinking at him. 

  Nothing stands between Steve Harrington and his conquest anymore.

  Neither of you is sure who’s more afraid of the thought.

  You’re certain you don’t want to stick around and find out, spinning away from him and not daring to look over your shoulder to find him watching you walk away with real, genuine, hope in his eyes. 

    A house on Cornwallis Street - Saturday

  “How is it?” 

  Your tongue slips out over your bottom lip, catching stray cherry slurpee.

  “Mm it’s okay, something’s different though…” you note the street name as you round the corner, the long line of cars already parked along the curb. 

  Eddie swallows in the driver’s seat, “Oh?”

  You indulge him, frowning as you take another long sip, “Yeah…cherry…mixed with…” you smack your lips, “Bribery?”

  He purses his, “Weird.”

  “Eddie,” you sigh as he pulls up to an open spot near a house that a party is clearly happening at. “I’m not dressed for this.”

  “What are you talking about,” Eddie gestures to your red tank top, your shorts and sneakers, “You look like a million bucks.”

  A frown deepens around the slurpee straw.

  He raises his hands in surrender, “Listen, a Munson is always prepared for the worst, and it’s becoming a real possibility that I’ll be needing that million bucks when you sleep with the enemy.”

  Your body heats up at the insinuation, at the flashes of Steve’s lips on yours, but you dryly say, “Ha-ha.”

  When you worked your shift this morning after a sleepless night, you’d arrived at Family Video early only to find Steve had done all of the work last night, after you left. You’d spent your entire shift watching and re-watching The Princess Bride glaring at Westley and cursing Steve Harrington for existing. 

  Eddie hops out of the van, rounding the hood while you sit in the passenger seat and pout. He comes over to the open window and mimics your jutted out lips. “An hour. Two tops.”

  Which is how you find yourself, two hours later, in the quiet basement of a stranger’s house, still Munson-less, with no end in sight.

  The music from the main floor vibrates the ceiling, stomping of peoples shoes competing for the loudest volume. Splashes from a pool and giggles in the pitch of flirting float in through a sliding door. You sip a lemonade out of a solo cup and fiddle with the eight ball on the pool table under the dim lighting. The ball falls to the floor and rolls between two Nike’s when his voice scares you.

  “New top?”

  Steve bends to pick up the ball, looking up at you as he stands and you whisper, “No.”

  He swallows as he takes a step closer, then another slowly, waiting to see if you’ll run like a scared animal as he approaches, but you just back up with each step, till your butt hits the edge of the pool table. 

  Each step makes the three words ringing in both of your heads louder and louder.

  As you wish. As you wish. As you wish. As you-

  “What are you doing here?” 

  Steve’s lips twist and he sighs, “Funny,” another step and he’s almost right in front of you, “Was just about to ask you the same thing.”

  Your heart thuds louder than the beat of the INXS song playing above you both and you’re certain being in a dimly lit basement with Steve Harrington twice in one week is not good for your health. 

  “I-“

  Steve presses a finger to your lips, adams apple bobbing as he shakes his head no and rasps, “I have a proposition.”

  When you don’t say anything he removes his finger, unable to help himself and let’s the pad of it drag your bottom lip so he can watch it bounce back into place. 

  “Big brain word,” you murmur, “Want a prize?”

  Steve nods and you’re certain the house is on fire, you’re not sure how your lungs are working, or how your brain communicates to your mouth to say, “What’re you proposing?”

  He takes the last step, your legs falling apart without even thinking about it so he can stand between them. He lets the ball go on the green felt, hands pressed to the wood on either side of your hips.

  “I wanna play a game,” he says it so quietly, you find yourself leaning in, noses almost touching as he nods to the pool table. He smirks, continuing to whisper, “Might even let you win.”

  Steve grabs the solo cup between your hands, setting it out of the way and making you wonder what hands are for other than to grab collars of shirts to tug lips closer while he keeps talking, “If I win, we’re gonna talk about what we’re supposed to forget.”

  To avoid the temptation, you press your hands to the pool table behind you, scratchy felt scraped by your fingers as you resist touching him when you ask, “And when I win, what do I get?”

  He grabs your hips, he tilts his head, tip of his nose tapping yours, as his heartbeat throbs in his ears, muffling The Cars playing above him. He’s not sure how he manages to ask, “What do you want?”

  “I’ll tell you,” your bottom lip brushes his as you talk, “When I think of something.”

  Steve says your name so softly, so tenderly, if there was any wall surrounding yourself, it’d have crumbled into dust. He shakes his head no, lip skimming yours, breath exhaled against your cheek, “Need to hear what you want.”

  “Why? Afraid you’re gonna lose and you won’t like my prize?” You tease, hand dragging across felt as you do, temptation beginning to pull ahead in the war. 

  The two of you are fighting for and against the same things, and it doesn’t matter anymore, you both just want to win - whatever that means. All Steve wants is for you to know the bet means nothing to him, and all you want is him to know how much you want him to kiss you again, the consequences of toying with your heart be damned. 

  Your hand grabs his bicep, squeezing before roaming higher as your lips remain close, but not kissing as he groans, “I can’t…” Steve’s eyelashes flutter, “I can’t think straight when you wear this color.”

  A smile bumps your lips together again as your hand curls around the back of his neck, murmuring against his mouth, “Sounds like a poor excuse from a guy who knows he’s already lost.”

  Steve nods, noses bumping together as he does. His chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as his hands adjust on your waist, stepping closer and pushing you up onto the pool table.

  “You win,” he agrees, “Gonna tell me what you want, now?”

  Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck and you nod, tugging your body closer to his.

  “A kiss.”

  Steve exhales a sigh, hands roaming back down to your hips as he tsks, “Ask me nicely.”

  You laugh quietly, your free hand grabbing at his belt loops as you add on sweetly, “A kiss, please.”

  He ducks his head, lips skimming over your jaw and pressing a kiss lightly to the hinge. 

  You squeeze the back of his neck, “Stop messing around.”

  His smile can’t be hidden when it’s pressed to your skin, voice muffled against your throat, “Ask me nicer.”

  “More nicely,” you correct quietly, awarded with a scrape of his teeth just below your ear making it hard to focus. But somehow you manage, “Harrington please kiss me.”

  He kisses the spot his teeth just were, dragging his lips down your throat and pressing another there, then another on your shoulder, another in the center of your chest, memorizing every sigh he gets, every squeeze of your fingers on his neck. He stands up straight again, nose to nose, looking like he’s just woken up from a deep dream. 

  His iris’ are taken over by dark pupils, yours blink at him under fluttering eyelids. The dim light above you both sways from the bouncing floor above it, casting shadows over freckles and laugh lines, scars old and new in almost identical spots. Chests heave in time with anticipation. Nervous fingers slip against skin, tongues wet lips, breaths are inhaled then exhaled between closer than ever mouths.  

   It all happens quickly after that, and yet, each moment lingers, like it’s making sure you’re both committing it all to memory.

  There’s one, where you softly, sweetly, genuinely, sincerely, ask:

  “Steve, please kiss me.”

  Several that feel like he’s moving through jello, or that his body is made of jello and doesn’t know how to work like a normal human body without immense concentration. Hands on your hips leaving so he can cup your jaw and support the back of your head, then leans the smallest bit forward, closing the centimeters of space between your lips. 

  One where he stops, just before they meet, where he glances down at your lips and you nod and nothing can be heard except an inhale in and thunderous hearts threatening to crack out of chests. 

  Then, Steve Harrington is kissing you.

  And you’re kissing him back. 

  This kiss, is different. This kiss is like Summer. 

  It's softer, slower - but not lazy. His hand cupping your cheeks adjusts purposefully, spread fingers over your jaw to tilt it how he wants you. So he can savor the taste of cherries and lemonade on your lower lip when his tongue traces it. 

  He holds your top lip between his, breathing into your mouth as it parts for him, tongues sweeping together as he adjusts his head. His nose nudges your cheek as you kiss each other deeply, fingers sliding back on your jaw, thumb brushing your ear and down your neck. He feels like someone has set his entire body on fire, bones cracking from his lungs fighting for air when you relax against him, sighing. 

  There's a warmth radiating and spreading from both of you, slow building but all consuming. It makes you want to lay and bask in the glow but also shield yourself from the burn that’s sure to come when your fingers tug on the strands of caramel locks and your name slips past his lips against yours.

  It’s not unlike a sudden summer storm, the way it changes quickly.

  Kissing that’s warm and sweet turning a little balmy, sticky, almost unbearably hot. 

  Your fingers push at the back of his head, needing him closer, his roam lower to your hips once more, tugging on belt loops. One can’t help but go up again, pulling fabric with it so the pads of his fingers can touch the bare skin of your ribs. 

  Steve can’t breathe when your legs wrap around his waist and you gasp into his mouth, “More.”

  He pants into your mouth, fingers squeezing at bare skin and brushing lace, “Ask nicely.”

  You nip at his bottom lip and he laughs into your mouth, both of you feeling drunk despite being one hundred percent sober. 

  Steve thinks someone cruel developed lungs and he settles for kissing your neck and shoulders as he tries to catch his breath, hand toying with the button of your shorts. He thinks he’s been transported to space when your back arches and you grip his biceps as his mouth latches onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder. His tongue swipes over the skin a little sloppy as you stutter out the word please. 

  He removes himself from your neck, breathing heavily as you stare at each other. His grin cocky and somehow endearing now as he asks breathlessly, “See, was that so hard honey?”

  Honey.

  Steve swallows when blink up at him dazed at the endearment. You swallow from the way he looks when he says it.

  Like he means it. Like you’re his.

  Then, the music upstairs changes, the melody familiar, tugging on something in your brain as Steve works on the button and zipper of your shorts. 

  He leans over you, supporting himself with a flat palm to the table as he looks down at the small space between your bodies. His fingers skim the black lace band, traveling back and forth over the skin and watching goosebumps rise to the surface. 

  As Steve’s fingers move beneath the band of your underwear you gasp, your hands grab at his shoulders. Two fingers slip past your clit, spreading your folds and teasing at your entrance then back up. His nose nudges your cheek, kissing your jaw as he practically growls, “You’re so wet, baby.”

  He circles your clit with soaked fingers, making you roll against his wrist, your head turn so you can catch his lips. 

  It’s the heart of the storm now, messy and unpredictable as he swirls precisely over your nerves with his thumb and slowly pushes his finger then a second one quickly inside of you. He pumps them in and out as his mouth works over you in time with his thumb. He memorizes every hitch of your breath against his lips, cataloging every sound so he remembers what you like. He removes his mouth from yours as you tug at the back of his head, his name leaving your lips in a way he’d only every dreamed of hearing. 

  He kisses along your jaw as your head falls backwards, doubling down on his finger’s movements in the same spots. His mouth moves against your ear, “You gonna come for me?”

   The storm swallows you whole, all defenses crumbled long ago so there’s nothing to ease the damage anymore. Your stomach tightens as Steve keeps talking, his words making your eyelids flutter as your orgasm crashes over you. 

  “Come on, trouble, I win. Gonna give me what I want?”

  You clench around his fingers, and he captures your mouth with his again as you begin to yell his name. 

  Steve’s fingers eventually slow, then slip out of you. Your lips part, noses and foreheads touching. You keep your eyes closed, not sure if you can face the storms destruction if you open them.

  His hands run up and down your thighs, making you shiver as he murmurs, “Told you I was back.”

  Your hands are still wrapped around his neck, nose bumping his as you open your eyes. Words lost in your laugh as you say, “Shut up, Harrington.”

  Steve smirks, eyes flashing with something dangerous. 

  “Make me.”

  Your hands fall to his waist, fingers on his belt and a smile fit for a winner on your lips when he bites his and moans as your palm presses over denim, relieving only a fraction of the tension. 

  “This what we did, Steve?” You quietly ask as the sound of his belt clicking together and the drag of his zipper bring you one step closer to confirming it’s not a rumor.

  “Wh-what?” He asks, voice desperate as your hand grabs him through the black Calvins and you grin.

  Not rumors. 

  “In your dreams,” you remind him of something he told you that feels like years ago but was in fact this same week. 

  You press a kiss to his jaw as it opens in a gasp when your hand slips beneath his boxers. Unable to help noting you’ve gotten the upper hand again. You murmur in his ear as you tug on his length once. 

  “It’s what we do in mine.”

  Your name is a whimper, along with the word, “More.”

  You grin against his neck.

  “Ask me nicely.”

  Steve laughs with a groan, forehead pressed to your shoulder in defeat.

  “Ple-“

  The call of your name from the top of the stairs cuts him off. Eddie’s voice calling down into the dimly lit space, “You down here?”

  “Coming!” You call up loudly as you let go of Steve.

  Gently, you push him away, hopping off of the table and righting your shorts. 

  You kiss his cheek and whisper, “Thanks for the game, Steve.”

  Your heartbeat is erratic as he catches your wrist and he asks, just as quiet, “Do…can we…is the game over?”

  The way he genuinely, sincerely asks you has that spark in your chest sputtering, frayed wire live and dangerous as you dare to admit,

  “I hope so.”

 

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[dreamsinmoonlight]

Dude, you could do a fic where the reader goes looking for Yandere Alastor at the end of the battle with Adam (where is he mad? Insane?... You know in the last ep)... The reader was worried about Alastor, but found him At the worst moment, maybe Alastor will collapse and go crazy... Maybe because he saw that the reader is also hurt? Or there is a revelation for him where he discovers that he is in love with the reader...

It's up to you, I just want to see a fanfic about it!!

(Here we go, I was thinking a lot about this one because honestly I love me a good old fashion insanity moment because of invocation of the "berserk button is hurting that person" trope. Mmmmm~

Modifying it a little just because I lean into the going insane because someone you care about is hurt (also I have another ask involving finding Alastor after the battle). So instead of being when he gets to the radio tower...

How about we rewind and let it be, oh, during the battle? Hehehe~

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Characters: yandere!Alastor, reader, Adam

Pairing: Alastor x reader

Genre:

Summary: The fight is raging but all you can think about is one very dangerous deer....)

Reckless Abandon

Hazbin Hotel was not falling without a fight, not if the residents and their friends had anything to say about it.

There were exterminators everywhere, angels everywhere and anywhere you looked. It felt, to you, as if the sky itself was falling, was being torn asunder, and though you knew that there was a shield, a barrier you believed in more than you believed in anything else, still something in the depths of your gut couldn't help but worry.

Someone screamed your name and you narrowly avoided a sword coming at you from the side, the mad flickering face of the angel who had tried to kill you so close you could almost make out each pixel in the mask they wore. By instinct you struck out and punched them, though some part of your brain understood it would likely do little; still they didn't seem to expect it from you and it connected, throwing them for a loop and to the ground for a moment.

"Good job toots!" Angel called out with one of those friendly grins of his that you could never help but return; he leveled his tommy guns and continued to shoot away, trying to bring down as many of the flying monsters as he could.

"Thanks Angel!" you called back and looked around; Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Cherri Bomb, Sir Pentious, even Nifty was running around stabbing admittedly already downed angels. But everyone was doing their best, fighting and honestly there seemed almost to be a chance, a small possibility, they could survive this. You could survive this.

You never meant to die and come to Hell, but no one ever did. Still in the years you'd been there you'd only ever felt actually happy at the hotel; Charlie was such a good kind person and Vaggie's devotion to her was heartwarming. It was never boring, never uneventful, and never anything less than a trip from the very day you came to their door, looking for a place to stay to get away from the far worse denizens than yourself. And somewhere deep down you'd admit, only to yourself, that what made you feel the happiest was the presence of one demon in particular.

You glanced up as you thought about him and almost immediately wished you hadn't. That shield that you believed so in, you saw with your own eyes it crack, you saw it break, and you saw the figure of the scariest of them all: Adam. He'd broken it down, he'd broken...

"Alastor's shield," you whispered, as the others saw it too, as it dawned on them what happened.

He was supposed to be able to keep it up, give them enough time to thin the herd more. No one expected Adam to be so powerful to be able to break something created by the Radio Demon, the Radio Demon. Alastor stood up to Lucifer, to the Vs, to other Overlords, he was the monster in the dark, the grinning Cheshire Deer Cat of Terror, and Adam had punched one of his barriers into nothingness as easily as he could have been punching a marshmallow.

That feeling of worry returned and it tasted of blood. You licked your lips and looked around. The others were worried too but all recovered, getting back to work, not letting this stop them. You tried to do the same, to remember the plan: if the shield went down then Alastor would take out Adam, keep him out of the fight largely so you all could handle the exterminator angels better. He was the most powerful of you, the most dangerous, the most vicious, he could handle this, he could do this, he...

He....

You looked towards the roof of the hotel, towards where you knew that cannibal Overlord was, where Adam had touched down and was now fighting him.

He was....he was too important. To you at least. You ripped a sword from a dead angel nearby and used it to cut through any other that got between you and the entryway to the hotel. You knew you were being stupid and reckless and silly because this was Alastor you were thinking about after all. But still, still, that bloody taste of worry had you and you couldn't get it to go away no matter how much you swallowed.

By the time you reached the roof things had reached a major head. Tentacles, shadows, a split second in which maybe, just maybe this would go better than the dread inside you predicted. But that colossal angelic asshole known as the First Man just had to be a dick and you stepped out in time to see him attack Alastor, breaking his staff and the confusion that filled you was matched by the unfiltered sound of the Radio Demon's voice. "What just happened?....Fuck."

"Alastor!" you called out and moved to try to get over to him.

What could you do? You were just a sinner, another of the souls trapped in Hell, prey to the angels, prey to the Overlords, prey to everyone. You weren't anything special, anything important, just another person who failed to be good in their mortal life and ended up down here instead. This was the greatest demon you knew and the most dangerous angel you knew of, and you, you were nothing.

But seeing Adam slash at Alastor, the Radio Demon go flying, be hurt, you narrowed your eyes and gripping tight the angel blade you'd stolen, you snarled with an intensity you weren't used to, an aggression you didn't know from within you. He stepped closer to Alastor, smirking, gloating, and not paying any mind as you came at him from the side, moving swift and deadly.

The blade dug in deep and the blood came a golden hue that should have beautiful if not coming from him. The grunt that came from Adam was less pain and more annoyance and he looked down at you like he might an ant. "What the hell bitch, you really want to fucking die first? Cuz I can totally do that for you."

For someone so big he moved quick. And his hand gripped around your throat tight, cutting off air and circulation very quick. Sinners shouldn't need to breathe, that was stupid, but you knew this sensation, you knew the feeling of choking and as he lifted you off your feet you struggled, let go of the sword to claw at his hands, to try to free yourself. His mask showed no more mercy than his troops did, the cruelty and sadism of beings who didn't even deign to show their faces when they came down to kill you; you reached out, wanting to at least see if you remove it, maybe scratch out his dumb eyes before he kills you. Give Alastor the time to get something done, to recover. At least you'd stopped this monster from hurting him.

Blood rushing through your ears as consciousness started to wane, you could have almost sworn you heard a chuckle, dark and familiar even without it's filter. Good. He was okay....

Adam was seconds from snapping your neck when a shadow tentacle lurched out and pierced his arm, forcing him to drop you. Already out like a light you fell limply but were caught by Alastor's own shadow that carefully held you in it's arms before returning to his side. The Radio Demon chuckled still, through the blood, through the pain, through the madness threatening to come forth as his form started to twist and deform, taking on his more demonic state.

"Have to disagree with you there," he hissed and smiled, feeling the changes, feeling the crawling of the Winter under his skin, the creature hungry, always hungry, and the chain that held him in place; the shadow moved to cover both of you as he continued, "Radio's not dead, but it is ending this broadcast."

Adam laughed through his own pain as the two of you were teleported away to safety and Alastor groaned as you reappeared elsewhere, hand over the gaping wound on his chest, trying to hold back the madness, the insanity, the Winter. His eyes slipped towards you in the process.

You should have not been up there, you were supposed to be out on the battlefield with all the others, with the fodder and the ones that mattered. You were a fool and an useless pawn, barely entertainment; you were not a monster, you were barely a sinner. You showed up at the hotel looking for sanctuary; you got along with them all and he found your presence....

Not unlikeable. Because you seemed to like him, knowing what he was, knowing who he was. You never treated him as anything less than a terror among demons but it didn't escape his attention how you perked up when he turned his usual gentlemanly facade towards him, as if he could ever be anything but to one of the fairer gender. But you never seemed like the type to try to face Adam knowing it could only be your death and the image of you moving at the much larger angel, sword in your hands, and your expression, it was burned in his chest.

You were not supposed to be there and you were not supposed to anything but something to throw at the angels to distract them, in hopes that Charlie would survive another fight. But the way you called out his name and the way your smile would shine when you looked at him, when he'd pet your head, when he'd tease and torment the other hotel residents, when he made all sorts of silly comments and puns. You, this stupid little sinner who didn't even really belong because what redemption was there for someone who wasn't even really a bad guy? What was your sin?

Alastor realized he didn't even know that one. It never mattered. You never mattered. But now you did.

The realization made his skin crawl more and he started towards the hotel again, arriving back after the battle, to his tower destroyed, to the rubble and debris and his own mind screaming.

He was a monster and he nearly died. He, the great Radio Demon, almost destroyed. For saving his friends. His friends. And then there was you and his mind raced more. No this could not be, no this would not be. The Winter and hunger under his skin crawled more and approaching his equipment he dug sharp claws into the metal, leaving gashes in his wake.

No.

No.

Not him.

But yes. And there you were, still asleep, still hurt; he turned to look at you and saw the bruises on your neck and thought of you clawing at Adam, ready to go down fighting. There because of....

Him.

An emotion he didn't recognize crawled up alongside the hunger and he tilted his head before reaching out with those sharp cruel claws to draw them, all too gently, along your cheek. His smile twitched, his eyes narrowed.

" 'Altruistist Alastor, died for his friends'," he mocked himself, "I'll find a way around this damned deal, just you wait. But tell me little one, what is this emotion I feel creeping up inside me? If you created it I expect you to explain it."

You didn't answer. Of course not. He took you from the shadow and cradled you carefully in his own arms.

Whatever it meant, whatever it was, it made his madness feel both better and worse. The hunger was dispelling a bit but now all he could think about was you.

How strange.