#and like i said yeah yeah i know it's excessive and it is frustrating like i still get annoyed scrolling through the tags when mike's in a

[maddy-ferguson]

gonna be honest, this 'oppressed mike' thing has become such a tiring narrative.

yes he is not a well liked character but he's not the first one to get disliked, i am sorry but other characters were and are disliked for no other reasons on the show and were unfairly misinterpreted. lucas was disliked in s1 and both lucas and caleb got racism for it as well. max was called a b*tch in s3 because ppl blamed her for mike and el's break up. will is constantly called a whinny bowl cut and called slurs by the audience as well as a homewrecker. even el gets weird stuff from shippers and nancy gets called a b*tch due to her getting in the way of mlm ships. the only character who never receives hate is probably dustin. it's so annoying when ppl try to portray mike as some uwu oppressed character who gets blamed while being innocent when other characters received the worst already. mike is not specially oppressed or hated on, sorry.

basically what ima said + this post like...people stopped liking mike because of the way he acted. it's not rocket science. the girls who get it get it, the girls who don't might get it after season 5. but some of them won't

[trensu]

Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants. 

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration. 

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

--

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

--

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

--

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me. 

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it. 

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond. 

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.” 

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

[wolken-himmel]

In which (Y/n) ends up in the infirmary because a child wandering around campus bit her.

It turns out that the feral boy is Floyd's and her child from the future.

Request by anon.

"(Y/n), we came as quickly as we could!"

A jolt ran through your body when the door to the infirmary was pushed open with an incredible force. Before you could even begin to recover from the awful noise the hinges produced, you found three figures surrounding your bed.

"What happened to you?" Deuce asked and pointed to your finger in worry. "Someone said you got bitten?"

Ace poked the band-aid that covered the tip of your pointer finger. "Bitten by a feral animal? By Grim?" he asked and began laughing, especially when the cat in question grumbled a few curses of protests.

Much to your amusement, Deuce shot the cat a stern look and wagged his finger in front of his disgruntled eyes. "Grim, what did we tell you?" the blue-haired boy scolded, narrowing his eyes. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you..."

"It wasn't me, I swear!" Grim threw his hands into the air while Ace and you merely laughed your souls out. Your amusement seemed to confuse Deuce, so much that the cat had to explain, "I don't bite people. I have class, you know..."

"Yeah, I was bitten—" you began slowly.

"But you're not bleeding out, are you?" Ace interrupted you and took precautionary step backwards. "And please tell me you didn't get rabies..."

By then, your left eye had begun twitching in frustration — oh, and your ears had begun hurting with all the excessive noise. Before the three could begin arguing amongst each other again, you had already raised your hands to shut them up. "Let me finish my sentences, you idiots!" They quieted down at once, all due to the angry glare you shot them. "No, I got bitten by a child... It was a boy, turquoise blue hair and very very sharp teeth. He couldn't have been older than seven..."

"How... did a child get on campus?" Ace asked with scrunched up eyebrows.

"I don't know..." you grumbled and sank into the soft infirmary bed again — it was much softer than the one back at Ramshackle. After a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and waved the three off. "Just ask Crowley or something."

"And where is the boy now?" Deuce piped up, his eyes flashing with concern. "What if he bites other people? He could seriously hurt someone—"

The red-head rolled his eyes. "It's just a child, you idiot..."

"No, trust me, Ace," you interjected seriously. A series of shivers ran down your back, and something akin to trauma darkened your eyes. "That boy is a menace to society."

"So what do we do now?" Grim asked, panicked.

His blue eyes flashing with utter determination, a bulb seemed to light up above Deuce's head. "We could put up some traps," he suggested while pacing up and down the empty infirmary. "You know, attach some thread to a branch and then prop up a cage. And then use candy as bait."

You clicked your tongue. "That's how you catch a stray cat, not a child..."

°

°

°

"Ugh, why do our professors always give us so much homework? I barely even have time to fulfil my daily squeeze quota anymore! Jade, my whole life is falling apart! What is the purpose of living if I can't have fun?"

"Oh Floyd... please tell me you're finished with the alchemy assignment for tomorrow."

The twins were walking side by side, traversing another courtyard to get to the Mirror Chamber for their shifts at the lounge. Yet, dread already pooled in the depths of Jade's stomach when he looked upon the moody frown on his brother's face. Floyd's mood swings and work didn't mix well at all — it was like throwing oil and water together.

"Nope," Floyd chimed innocently, "haven't even started yet with that stupid assignment."

"The deadline is tomorrow..." Jade furrowed his eyebrows in worry.

His concerned tone merely drew an annoyed scoff from Floyd's pursed lips. "I wasn't in the mood." A whine escaped his lips when he raised his long arms to stretch lazily. His lips twisted downwards into a pout when he suddenly complained, "I haven't seen (Y/n) all day! My little shrimpy would usually bribe me with hugs and what not to do my homework..."

Jade shook his head in disbelief. "By the Great Seven, Floyd..."

Before he could properly begin scolding his brother, a high-pitched voice reached their ears — someone was calling out to them, and the voice was drawing closer. "Daddy!" they managed to discern once the voice was close enough. And almost simultaneously, a young child threw himself into Floyd's arms while continously muttering 'Daddy' over and over again.

Reluctantly moving his arms around the boy to support him, Floyd furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and a tad bit of annoyance. "Huh? What do you want, little guppy?" The sharpness of his eyes softened up though as soon as he found the child's cheeks covered in dried tears. The boy continued wailing and clinging to the Octavinelle student. "Oh my, why are you crying?"

"I-I hurt Mommy earlier!" the boy confessed guiltily. "I bit her! I didn't mean to... I was just so excited to see her again! And I was so happy that I chomped down a little bit too much... It was meant as a love nibble..."

"And where is your mommy?" Jade asked hesitantly.

The boy's mood seemed to increase once he laid eyes upon the other twin. "Uncle Jade! You're here, too!" he exclaimed with a toothy smile.

Floyd and Jade shot each other surprised looks, astonished by the young boy's ease at telling them apart. Yet, with the way he addressed them, they both began to worry.

"I don't remember having a son, Jade..."

"Neither do I."

Before they could ask the child for answers, three figures came running towards them — two Heartslabyul students and a familiar cat monster. All of them were out of breath when they came to a halt in front of the twins.

"Floyd! Step away from that child at once!" Deuce exclaimed and extended his flat hand warningly. "He's dangerous..."

"This little guppy? No, he ain't dangerous at all." A bout of laughter escaped Floyd's lips when he began tickling the boy affectionately. "What's your name, guppy?" he cooed and cradled him gently.

"Nemo!" the boy chimed.

"See?" Floyd drawled. "So cute."

Grim shook his head hastily. "That boy bit (Y/n)!"

The remark caused Jade to tense at once. His limbs suddenly frozen, he only managed to slowly crane his neck at his brother, who was still busy playing with the mysterious boy. Now, on closer look, Jade managed to see the resemblance between the wild boy and the Ramshackle prefect. His disbelief still didn't lessen, somehow, when he carefully asked, "Wait... so (Y/n) is your mother, Nemo?"

The boy immediately piped up happily when that name reached his ears. "Mommy! Where is she?" His toothy smile showed off his razer-sharp teeth. "Is she alright?"

"Great," Ace grumbled under his breath, "so we bought the cage and candy for nothing..."

The revelation had Floyd perking up in utter delight. His bad mood from earlier had disappeared entirely, based on the way he was grinning widely. "Woah, so Shrimpy and I are gonna have little shrimpies together in the future?" Giggles escaped his lips while he threw the child into the air. "I love it! You're making my day, little guppy~"

"If that's the future, you should work hard for it..." Jade muttered mischievously. "Maybe this is a sign by the Great Seven to work on your assignment for tomorrow."

"Nemo, what do you know of alchemy?" Floyd asked, his laughter mixing with his son's giggles. "I'm sure you'll help your daddy work on his assignment, no?"

The question made Jade's smile waver. "Oh, he's hopeless..."

[katsukiizmoon]

╰┈➤ ꒰🍓💌🥛 ┊boba time ┊ Hana ; #02 ꒱

『♡』 Post-Partum urinary incontinence is the bane of your existence, ruining everything, but Katsuki kisses you like it doesn’t matter.

『♡』 having a baby and all that comes with it, post partum anxiety, urinary incontinence, comfort, suggestive scene, insecurity, healthy relationship, pet names : bunny, angel, baby, f!reader

You keep peeing on yourself and it’s fucking infuriating. The stitches have healed and you’re coming along nicely but you just keep peeing on yourself.

You love Hana, her pretty little blonde curls and red eyes. You love her giggles and her cries, even when she makes you cry. But you keep peeing on yourself and it’s the most embarrassing part of having a baby thus far.

Katsuki doesn’t mind, he laughs a little with the baby in his arms when you shove her to him. He watches you waddle to the bathroom grumbling and muttering curses.

It really doesn’t bother him, but it bothers you.

Hana stretched your pelvic floor to hell and back and now, as the doctor said it, you have urinate incontinence.

You change your pad in a haste, wiping gently with a baby wipe and look in the mirror. A cry comes from the other room and you shoot out, darting toward your husband.

“What happened?!” You bite, rushing over to the pair.

Nothing. Nothing happened. Hana is happily sucking down a bottle of breast milk in her fathers arms. She’s getting milk drunk, happy as can be, and he’s bouncing her and humming.

“What’re you talkin’ about baby?” Katsuki mumbles, head tilted to look at your eyes.

“I-I thought I heard her crying..” You mumble and he gives you a pitiful look.

Katsuki moves to sit on the couch, flicking on some random shoujo anime he swears he doesn’t watch. And you follow suit, sitting next to him on the black leather.

His spare arm wraps around you, pulling you closer to his body. His other thick, muscular arm holds Hana and the bottle. He’s gotten amazing at that, multitasking.

Plush lips come down to the top of your head and he murmurs reassurance. You turn and curl into him, breathing in the familiar scent of him.

It’s interesting, smelling the mix of caramel and baby powder all at once. It isn’t something you though you’d find comfort in until now. You feel with your arm for the throw blanket and drape it over the two of you.

“What’s wrong angel?” He ponders, watching the way you close your eyes slowly and sigh in response.

The anime girls on the show are confessing their undying love with roses and bento boxes. It’s kind of cute.

Hana let’s out a satisfied noise and he pulls the bottle from her mouth with a pop, setting it to the side. You lick your thumb and wipe the excess milk from her face and giggle at her features scrunching up in disagreement.

“Just.. worried? What if something happens, you know? And and i- I can’t stop freaking peeing on myself. Even if it’s just a little. I don’t see why you’d be interested in me when I’m constantly- just- yeah.” You let out, breathless and frustrated.

Katsuki hums, leaning down to kiss your forehead. He unwraps his heavy arm from around your middle and turns, lifting your face using his thumb and hand. And he kisses you.

He kisses you deep and slow, sighing into it. And he breaks away when Hana makes a noise, bouncing her momentarily before going back in.

His lips are so soft and remind you of the first time you ever kissed. It reminds you of the day he asked you to marry you. The day he found out you were pregnant.

And his tongue is hot and heavy in your mouth. Patiently exploring and soothing the deep need in your bones to feel wanted.

“I don’t care that you’re peeing on yourself. I don’t care that you need to wear pads cause of it n’ I damn sure haven’t lost interest.” He breaks the kiss, forehead pressing to yours.

You open your mouth, then close it again, then speak.

“But you haven’t touched me..” You whisper, tears pricking your eyes.

“Oh bunny, is that what this is about?” He rasps, worried and kissing over your cheeks where tears begin to spill.

You nod and tremble in his grip.

“The only reason I haven’t fucked you on every surface in our house, haven’t licked every inch of your body, is because you’ve been tired, baby.” His thumb brushes over your lip and he kisses you again, softly.

“I’ve seen how much work you’ve been doing with Hana n’ all. And you’ve been so upset with yourself cause of the peeing situation I thought’cha weren’t ready, angel.” He explains.

Relief washes over your features and you sigh, weight lifted from your chest. You grab him by the jaw and kiss him as hard as you can. He deepens it, and only breaks when Hana begins to make noise.

“Is that- is that really why ?” You murmur, eyes wide and full of hope.

Katsuki nods, crimson eyes boring into your own. His arm bounces your daughter over and over, keeping her snoozing against the fat near his pec.

You spend some time watching the anime, drinking water and lightly snacking. Mundane things, domestic things. Everything that makes life worth it.

He gets up, walking through the house and into the nursery and places her in the crib for her nap time. When he gets back, Katsuki all but slings you into his lap.

You don’t have sex, but the shoujo anime is drowned out in the back regardless. He takes his time with you, exploring new ridges and curves of your body.

Momentarily, you worry about the pad pressing against him. Just how embarrassing it is, at least to you. But that goes away when he kisses up your throat and groans out a praise.

“You’re the sexiest thing on this planet.” He declares, nipping at your jaw, fingers digging into the plush of fat above your hip.

“So glad I made you a momma..” He murmurs, kissing your mouth. And you look to find him staring at you with love struck eyes, looking over your entire body.

He looks between you and let’s put a breathy sigh watching your hips rock into his. Satisfied, he tries to take it a little bit further.

And you forgot about all the water you had. You forgot about the fact that you’ll pee on yourself a little too easily.

So he jostles you, pulling you down so he can get a little more friction. And when he tries to adjust himself by scooching up more, your thin pad gets soaked through.

You screech, embarrassed that you just wet yourself while making out with your husband. It reminds you all too well of every little awkward thing you’ve ever done.

And he doesn’t care, he just ignores it, for a moment. Grabs you by the back of the head and kisses you nice and deep, squeezing your ass. He pats then, telling you to go ahead and change.

When you come back, you don’t notice that he’s changed his sweats to the most similar he could find. You don’t need to know that it got on his pants.

[xcherryerim]

Double The Fall, Triple The Pleasure

- Billy x Gn!reader x Derek -

“Merrier the more, triple fun that way. Twister on the floor, what do you say?” — 3 by Britney Spears

word count: 3.6k

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18 ONLY

Warning: Threesome (this is a love corner with the reader, not a love triangle. I AM NOT shipping Josh characters together) | sexual tension | Penetration | Giving and receiving oral sex (no genitals specified for the reader) | Choking kink | Masturbation | Handjobs | Praise and degradation | Porn with plot | light mentions of vaping, alcohol and gambling addiction. | Reader is submissive btw | Derek is a possessive jealous fuck (but also a needy loser)

Summary: As you work your shift as a casino host Derek Danforth, the son of the co-owner, decides to begin a round of baccarat with a stranger named Billy. Somehow you end up participating in the game and emerge victorious, causing the two players to owe you financial compensation but, they end up repaying you in another way.

(if you want to go directly to the smut section look for the “✦ “ symbol.)

There are two distinct types of gamblers. The rich make hasty decisions with their money, while the desperate lot implore and pray to the machines and chips, hoping for a miraculous windfall of riches. 

As a casino host, your responsibility is to ensure that the patrons become loyal to the establishment; however, as a bystander, when a person who isn’t a part of the one percent plays, it’s impossible to hold back the feeling of regret. While you acknowledge you are fulfilling your obligation, you know it is easy to become engulfed by obsessing gambling, and you don’t wish that on anyone. 

However, you do not care if the rich pour their monetary possessions into the abyss, and you maintained that sentiment toward Derek Danforth, the son of one of the casino’s co-owners.

He wasn’t a regular at the establishment and gambled a little, but occasionally brought his friends to indulge in excessive drinking, and smoking while toying with machines. However, now he was by himself, which was unusual. 

“Mr. Danforth, it is a pleasure to have you back. Would you like your usual?” you inquired. “Huh?” A confused response erupted from his lips, his body lurching forward with a wobbly movement. The apparent intoxication exhibited by him appeared on the edge of his consciousness as he scanned the area once more.

“Yeah, and I want a table,” he uttered the request, with minimal confusion.

“Certainly. Would the others in your group be joining us this time?”

Derek shook his head, his body appearing unsteady as he did so. “No, just me.” 

“Oh, how so?” you questioned, your tone of voice maintaining professionalism as it did during work.

“Just bored,” he responded with a shrug, unbothered by the circumstances, even as you detected a hint of inebriation.

“Oh, indeed, a casino is the ideal way to take away boredom,” you remarked with a feigned professional tone, although the sarcasm in your words was all too obvious.

“Why don’t you join me for a round?” he inquired as he seated himself at the velvety green table, awaiting your response.

“I’m here to ensure everyone’s enjoyment and prevent any illegal behavior,” you replied, concealing your hostility and disdain for a facade of civility.

“I am not a participant, but a spectator, Mr. Danforth,” you concluded, using a firm tone with a mild undertone of mockery.

“You don’t seem to have much enjoyment yourself,” Derek said as he inhaled from the vape he held, the vapor surrounding you before dissipating into the atmosphere.

“I’ve said it once, and I’ll repeat it. Drop that professional speech style. We’re around the same age, so why do you still feel the need to communicate with me like this?” he stated, sounding frustrated with continuing your formal conduct.

“If I speak like I do, I will get fired for unprofessionalism.” You retorted as you prepared the negroni and handed it over to him.

“I won’t allow that to happen,” he replied, taking in a generous sip from the glass before continuing his words. “You’re too hot to lose.”

You felt uncertain about whether to offer a genuine response to his flirtation or simply scoff at it, and you began to silently pray that he would not launch into another lecture about cryptocurrency, which had become an irksome topic of conversation during your prior interactions. 

“Thank you, Mr. Danforth. It means a lot.” You spoke, avoiding direct visual contact to avoid any implications or insinuations. While you acknowledge that he is a physically attractive man, the irritation he can induce within you is bigger than your attraction for him, or at least that is what you try to tell yourself.

“I’m assuming a solo round?” You mentioned shifting the subject. 

“Not quite...” he replied, his gaze examining the environment until he managed to pinpoint the individual of interest, a man around his same height, adorned with dark-toned hair and a jean jacket, giving an out-of-place demeanor compared to the ambiance of this prestigious gambling establishment, thus providing a vulnerable and susceptible target.

Derek walked with confidence as he had already won the game. “Hello, I’m Derek, Derek Danforth,” he proclaimed, displaying his self-assured attitude and firm grip as he shook hands with the stranger, showcasing his superiority complex.

“Billy, and yeah, I will join you.” The individual stated this with assertiveness, grasping tightly onto his gold necklace, an item he viewed as his lucky charm.

In your inner thoughts, you were fervently hoping that the gentleman with the cowboy-esque appearance would end up victorious and leave the premises swiftly and promptly. You were aware that the significant bets Derek had made in the past were so large that they could obliterate the finances of a person with the speed of light. 

“Billy would join me for a game,” Derek proclaimed as he settled into his designated seat.

“Billy, we’re delighted to have you here with us,” you uttered, the corners of your mouth rising into a pitiful smile, yet the individual seemed to have construed your gesture as a sign of flirtatious intent as he provided a subtle wink in response.

A palpable aura of awkwardness permeated the atmosphere between you and Derek, his displeasure at the sight of another man attempting to flirt with you becoming evident despite every attempt to mask his emotions on the matter. Regardless of the discomfort of the situation, it was undeniable that you experienced a certain degree of gratification and joy as you had the attention of both men.

“So, shall we begin?” you spoke, skillfully shuffling the deck with precision, as well as showcasing a few unique tricks you had acquired throughout your time spent working at the casino. You felt their eyes taking in every choreographed performance, their minds filled with various ideas and fantasies of what else someone with such masterful hands might also possess the aptitude for.

 As the game began, your eyes were filled with anxiousness as you carefully followed the steps and maneuvers that had taken place in the game of Baccarat. The interior sound of your mind urges Billy to take all the appropriate actions to win, but unfortunately, he falls short in his efforts.

Derek chuckled in mockery. “Maybe next round you can win.” 

Billy groaned in annoyance at Derek’s comment, his attention quickly turning towards you. “Why don’t you play with us?” Billy asked.

“I don’t,” you started to say, but Derek interrupted your response by uttering, “Do as I say and play.” 

The harsh look delivered by the wealthy individual in question prompted a sense of apprehension and caution within you, but you were compelled to oblige the order. 

Despite never playing, you were sure that you had a chance of winning, as you had taken the time to observe numerous matches, making you able to identify and comprehend the various mistakes and errors that tended to occur, as well as what appeared to be successful. However, the extreme bets that Derek was making and Billy’s persistent attempts to one-up them caused you a moderate degree of concern, but you tried to maintain a state of composure. 

✦

When the game came to a close, seeing both men so sure of your failure just for you to end up winning at the end was ecstatic. Now you understand why people loved gambling in the first place. Your smirk quickly fades as you let go of the cards as if holding them down would make you more intoxicated with the high these activities had to offer. 

Derek grunted, a sound oozing with a subtle tinge of frustration as he pulled out his lousy Gucci wallet. “Is cash fine or a check?” He asked slightly annoyed. Billy, on the other hand, looked at the table, his eyes darting back and forward.

“I don’t; I don’t have that type of money.” He stuttered as he looked at you. 

“Mmh,” You leaned closer. “Maybe you could pay in another way.” You teased playfully, indicating your intent to pursue a physical means of compensation. 

 “And suddenly I have no money either. How sad.” Derek said, hiding his wallet, hoping to provide you with a similar recompense as the one you sought from Billy. 

“The expression goes: save a horse, ride a cowboy, not: save a Ferrari, ride a rich man.” You chuckled in response. 

“But wouldn’t both be great to ride?” Derek replied, his expression exuding self-assurance as he took a swig from his beverage.

You quickly looked at Billy, who didn’t seem to mind the offer. You,  on the other hand, were skeptical, but how many people win a game and have the opportunity to be fucked by two attractive guys?

“Alright!” you exhale, a hint of satisfaction coloring your voice as you reach into your pocket and retrieve the keys entrusted to you by the establishment. With a decisive click, you lock the door to the cleaning supply room behind you, effectively sealing off the space from prying eyes. 

When you turned in their direction, you felt their hands roaming against your body. Their fingers traveled the contours of your figure, triggering sensations that surged down the length of your spine, evoking chills and shivers. Billy pulls your head, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue dancing with yours in a sensual duet. His hands slide beneath your shirt, exploring the warmth of your bare skin, while Derek’s lips trail down your neck, nibbling as he leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

Derek’s hands work swiftly to unfasten the buttons of your uniform, revealing more of your body with every movement. He does this with a sense of urgency as if he cannot get enough of touching you. The sound of fabric rustling fills the air, accompanied by soft moans escaping your lips as their touches become more intimate and bold. 

With Billy’s assistance, you manage to wriggle out of your dress pants, your legs quivering with anticipation as they continue to explore every inch of your exposed skin. Derek moves lower, his lips brushing against your belly button before trailing further south, stopping briefly at the waistband of your underwear. He looks up at you, seeking permission with his eyes alone. You nod, unable to resist the intense desire that is building within you. 

With renewed determination, Derek hooks his thumbs under the elastic band and slides them downward. His eyes widen in surprise at what he sees—you’re dripping and ready for him. Without waiting for confirmation, he leans forward, planting a series of open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. Then, his tongue starts to trace slow circles around your sensitive flesh. His actions send waves of euphoria coursing through your body, making you squirm in delight. 

While Derek worships your body, making sure to not leave any part of you without licks and sucks, Billy takes matters into his own hands quite literally. He expertly undoes his belt, wrapping it around your neck and tightening it just enough to heighten your senses without cutting off your airway entirely, adding an edge of danger to this already erotic encounter.

Billy then proceeds to remove his red boxers, revealing his rigid erection pulsating with need. It jumps slightly at the sudden exposure, eager to be touched. He grasps your hand and places it around his twitching cock, guiding your movements as he leans in for a brief, passionate kiss.

“Get your money’s worth,” he whispers against your lips, his smirk widening as he watches you. 

With urgency, you begin to tease the head of Billy’s cock with your thumb, tracing its ridges and veins as if mapping out every inch. Your other hand teases Billy’s shaft rhythmically, setting a pace that pleases both of you. The room fills with the sounds of your whimpers and his groans, a testament to the intense fulfillment coursing through your bodies.

At the same time, Derek’s hunger grows as he feasts on the throbbing between your legs, his skilled tongue and lips working together to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. His light whimpers echo throughout the small space, punctuating the air with his insatiable craving.

“You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught,” Derek warns, concerned about someone hearing their explicit activities. With a swift motion, he yanks the belt tied around your neck, causing you to cry out in surprise and pain. 

Your breath catches in your throat as the sudden pressure cuts off your oxygen flow. When he releases the hold, you gasp heavily.

“You liked that, huh?” he asks with a sinister smirk, reading your flushed cheeks and labored breathing. 

“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.” His words carry an underlying threat as if claiming ownership over you. Without waiting for a verbal response, he stands up, towering over you menacingly.

Derek reaches out, grabbing your chin forcefully, tilting your head back so your eyes meet his. “Because you fucking belong to me, remember that.” 

Despite the fear and uncertainty swirling within you, there’s also a strange thrill running through you at his possessiveness, causing you to let out a whine. 

Your weak sound made Derek smirk in amusement. His teeth were barely visible. Then, he resumes to his past attitude. 

“I’m tired of you bitching and moaning.” Derek said, “Get on your knees.” His command is firm, leaving no room for negotiation. You obey without question, kneeling before him and Billy. Their cocks are mere inches from your face, and the lines between reality and fantasy blur even further.

Their presence looms large over you; their virility and masculinity are intoxicating in this dimly lit room. Your mouth waters at the sight of their hardened members, yearning to taste them and to please them in any way possible. 

Both men watch you intently, their eyes filled with expectation and fascination. You can practically see the thought process playing out in their minds: who will you serve first? Who will you satisfy last? 

With a deep, shaky inhale, you lean forward, your lips brushing softly against the tip of Billy’s erect member. Your tongue darts out to taste the salty droplets of pre-cum glistening on its surface, savoring the flavor while your hand wraps firmly around Derek’s shaft, moving up and down with increasing speed, this motion is both a show of submission and a subtle act of rebellion, aiming to push him closer to the edge. 

Derek’s moans increase in volume, his hips bucking involuntarily in response to your aggressive stroke as his eyes roll back. The pain of overstimulation mingles with satisfaction, creating a complex mix of emotions that only adds to the overall experience.

Meanwhile, Billy’s gaze is a mix of awe and hunger, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The contrast between your two lovers couldn’t be more apparent—one nearing orgasm, the other waiting with bated panting for his chance. But Billy isn’t content with waiting; he wants to join in the action too.

Suddenly, he grabs the collar around your neck, tugging it firmly and forcing your mouth wide open to accept his entire length. You struggle to accommodate Billy’s girth, your throat adjusting to the invasion as best it can. Saliva drips from your chin, coating your neck and body as you fight to keep up with his demands.

“You know, for such a professional-looking host, you’re taking it like a fucking slut.” 

You want to answer back at Billy’s words but, the sensation of being mouthful by his engorged member is overwhelming, but you refuse to give up. Determined to please both men, you focus on taking him deeper, and your efforts are rewarded by his low growls of approval. Meanwhile, Derek watches with a mix of jealousy and admiration, pulsating in anticipation as your strokes become sloppier on him. 

“Touch yourself,” Billy commands. Without hesitation, you use your free left hand to explore your own body, mirroring the sensations he experiences.

Your eyes lock with his, reflecting your admiration for this astounding man standing before you, dominating and directing your every move.

Your fingers caress your sensitive skin, discovering the wetness left by Derek’s earlier attentions. You moan around Billy’s shaft, the sensation intensifying as you stroke yourself in sync with your mouth’s movements. 

Billy’s eyes darken with desire, his grip on your ‘collar’ tightening slightly. “That’s it,” he encourages, spurring you on.

“Swallow every fucking drop,” he orders, his words sending a shiver down your spine. Sweat glistens on your brow, and your gasps come in ragged as you redouble your efforts, eager to satisfy him and prove your loyalty while you pleasure yourself and bob your head on Billy’s dick.

Derek watches hungrily, his length pulsating in your hand, as he impatiently awaits his turn. His grip on your hair tightens, demanding your attention. “Please!” he begs, his voice tinted with desperation. “Give it to me!”

Your eyes lock with Derek’s, and with a nod, you move towards him, ready to grant his wish. He quickly guides your mouth towards his member, and you eagerly obey, wrapping your lips around his dick, feeling him twitch in excitement at the first touch of your warm, wet mouth. His scent fills your nostrils, mingling with the musk of sex and sweat, creating an intoxicating blend.

 “Fuck, you’re better than I imagined.” Derek cries out.

Billy watches the exchange as he searches for a condom among the scattered clothing on the floor. Once it’s located, he rolls it onto his shaft, preparing himself for what’s to come. 

Moving behind you, he gently fingers your entrance, seeking silent consent. You pause momentarily, breaking contact with Derek’s length long enough to respond to Billy with a yes. As soon as your sentence ends, Derek responds by thrusting harder, face-fucking you relentlessly. 

Your eyes water and tears stream down your face as his pace increases. In the meantime, Billy positions himself at your entrance. With a single confident thrust, he enters you, filling you up. 

As he begins to thrust in and out of you, matching Derek’s pulls on your head, you lose track of time and space. All that exists is the combined sensation of two cocks inside you, stretching and filling you. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, grunts, and moans drowning the room, creating a primal symphony of desire and satisfaction. 

Your hands grasp Derek’s thighs, your nails digging into them as your body aches. Sweat trickles down your forehead, staining your face, and you don’t care. Nothing matters but the sense of belonging to these two men. 

Derek hisses at the sudden attack from your nails before he speaks. “I know I’m big, but you can take more than that,” Derek growls, forcing more of him into your mouth, attacking your throat mercilessly, while Billy picks up the pace, pounding into you faster and harder. 

His thrusts became more erratic, his hips slamming against your ass with reckless abandon. You cry out, your voice hoarse from the constant stimulation, feeling your body tense up, preparing for your orgasm.

Just as you think you can’t handle it anymore, Billy pulls out suddenly, leaving you panting and empty. Before you can recover, he spits on your entrance, lubricating it again. Then, with one swift motion, he re-enters you, filling you up once more. His size stretches you wider than ever, causing you to scream in both agony and gratification. 

“I love the sounds you make when I'm destroying you," Billy mumbles as he slaps your ass a few times before he speaks again. “So much better than the last person I was with.” 

Derek, sensing your imminent climax, speeds up his pace even more. His thrusts become faster and harder, hitting your uvula. His movements are deliberate, designed to send you spiraling over the edge. Billy, aware of the approaching orgasm, matches Derek’s intensity. Together, they push you to your limits, each thrust bringing you closer to the peak.

The combination of their movements is too much to bear. Your body convulses, shaking uncontrollably as you near the edge. You cry out incoherently, your voice a mix of pleas and curses. Finally, it happens. A wave of pure bliss washes over you, starting from your core and radiating outward. Your muscles clenched around Billy’s cock, which came undone, Derek following right after as you swallowed him entirely. 

For a moment, all three of you remain frozen in time, basking in the afterglow of your shared orgasm. Sweat covers your body, mixing with the evidence of your passions and dedication.

Then, Derek proceeds to pick you up, ensuring you’re okay and still able to walk, as Billy quickly goes to dress up again. 

“Wanna do aftercare?” Derek asks. This is different; this isn’t the usual Derek you’re accustomed to, but there’s something special about him at this moment.

“I’d love to,” you reply, unable to resist his newfound vulnerability. For a brief moment, you both stare at Billy, unsure whether to include the stranger in this intimate moment. But he speaks up, breaking the silence.

“I’m fine; I need to go anyway.” And with that, Billy abandons the room, leaving the two of you alone together.

Now it’s just the two of you, stripped bare emotionally and physically. You look at each other, unsure of how to proceed. Should you clean up? Talk about what happened. Or simply cuddle and rest in each other’s arms? 

“That was weird,” Derek says, slightly confused by Billy’s sudden departure but dismissing it. He’s glad that the two of you are alone now. 

“Get dressed up. We’ll go back to my place, and...” As Derek reaches for his pants, they feel unusually light. You exchange a confused glance, picking up your clothes and finding them similarly lacking.

Realization dawns on you both—your wallets are gone. It seems Billy took advantage of the situation to steal from you when you guys thought he was looking for a condom earlier on. You share a look of disbelief. 

“Fucking Billy,” you mutter.

Hope you guys liked it, it’s my first time writing this sort of thing but I wanted to write something special for having 100+ followers 🫶🏻 Thank you so much for reading my stuff! (If you only want to see my smut writing consider following my side blog @xxxcherryerim where I reblog my work!)

tags: @freak-accident419 (hand in marriage, NOW /j) @joshhutchersonsgf @joshfutturman @jhutchismyl0verb0y @lile6969 @savvyotakuqueen

[sydsaint]

You're still champion of my heart baby <3

Summary: Tyler faces his toughest fight yet against Chris Jericho with PLE implications. Luckily for him, Tyler's girlfriend isn't above getting her hands dirty in order to help her man win.

You finish up your match against Emi Sakura, managing to earn a quick win against the Japanese legend. After celebrating in with a few fans on your way up the ramp, you head back to the locker room to see if Tyler's left yet.

"Ty? You in here?" You announce yourself as you come through the locker room door.

"Yeah." Tyler replies dryly from somewhere inside the locker room. "You beat, Emi?" He asks you as you shut the door behind you.

You snort and nod. "Course I did, look at who you're talking to." You laugh.

"Right." Tyler laughs with you.

You clean up some excess sweat from your body and throw on a shirt over your ring gear while Tyler idles on his phone like usual.

"Shouldn't you be headed out to the ring to talk with Jericho's annoying ass?" You ask Tyler after you're done changing.

"Yeah, unfortunately." Tyler nods. "I can't believe that he went and whined to my dad." He grumbles.

You snort and agree. "Look at who you're talking about, Ty." You remind him. "Jericho is a total snake. And he's ugly so,"

"You did warn me." Tyler nods. "I'm headed out. Wanna walk with me?" He asks you.

"Sure." You shrug and head over to the door.

Tyler pulls open the door for you and the two of you head down to the tunnel. You stop right at the tunnel entrance and watch Tyler head through it. You hang back since you know that he doesn't need you for this. Not with a shmuck like Chris Jericho.

You hang around backstage and watch the confrontation in the ring from the monitors set up in various places. You roll your eyes at Chris' arrogance, silently praying that Tyler just decks him.

"Oh what the fuck!?" You curse the air when Jericho decides to take a shot at Taz.

Tyler handles the situation, getting into Chris's face. But your worry for Taz gets the better of you. You head down to the ring from the back way so you don't take the spotlight away from Tyler.

"Taz!" You rush over to his side as he carefully rolls out of the ring. "Are you alright?" You help him down to the floor.

"Yeah, I'm alright, kid." Taz assures you, but you notice that his knee is obviously bothering him.

You set a cautious and gentle hand on Taz's shoulder and walk with him back over to the commentary table. Tyler takes a second to glance your way and you flash him a quick thumbs up. Ty nods at your assuring gesture and goes right back to getting in Jericho's face.

"You sure that you're okay, Taz?" You ask Taz again once he's at down.

"I'm good." Taz nods. "Come on, give me some credit, kid. I ain't quite that old yet." He chuckles. "But I appreciate the concern."

You nod and slink back around the tunnel to the backstage area to wait for Tyler to come back.

A few minutes later Tyler comes stomping through the tunnel with a foul air about him. You walk over to him and try your best to tame the beast before he thinks about doing something drastic.

"Tyler! Hey!" You rush over to Tyler's side.

"Is my dad alright?" Tyler asks you, venom in his tone.

You nod and put a hand on Tyler's arm. "Yeah, he said that he was okay." You assure him. "Come on, let's head back to the locker room and get our stuff so we can get out of here." You give his arm a small tug away from the tunnel since Chris is still out in the ring.

"Thanks for going out there and checking on him, YN." Tyler relaxes a little bit.

"Yeah, of course." You nod and begin pulling him along. "And hey, you'll get another shot at kicking Jericho's ass, okay? In the ring. Properly." You glance his way while you're walking with him.

Tyler's jaw clenches in frustration. "He's lucky that I didn't lay him out right then and there." He insists.

"I know, baby." You rub Tyler's arm, still making sure to put as much distance between him and anything Chris Jericho related as possible.

Sunday night rolls around and it's time for Dynasty. You're not scheduled for a match on the card so you opt to hang around backstage and provide Tyler with all the support that he needs tonight.

Tyler's been in a foul mood since Wednesday, and if you weren't a hater then you'd be fearing for Chris Jericho's well being right now.

"You want me out there with you?" You ask Tyler while he's getting ready for his match.

"Nah." Tyler shakes his head. "I can do this by myself." He assures you. "Can you maybe hang with my dad on commentary though?" He asks you.

You nod, surprised that Ty seems worried about his dad. "Yeah, sure." You pull your shoes back on while Tyler finishes getting ready.

The time comes for Tyler's match and the two of you head out. You let Tyler do his entrance by himself and go the back way down to the commentary table. Taz pulls up a chair for you to sit next to him in, but you decline his offer of a headset.

Chris saunters out to the ring after Tyler with his usual smug aura. You roll your eyes at the challenger as he passes the commentary desk but remain in your seat.

The bell rings and the match gets underway, and just like you suspected. It doesn't take long for the bout to get violent. You sit in silence next to Taz while Tyler and Chris go at it beating the crap out of one-another. You wince each time Chris uses a dirty tactic to try and get the upper hand and your anger grows with each second.

"Oh no." Taz slips his headset off his head once Chris retrieves his metal bat from where he was stashing it under the ring.

Tyler barely managed to kick-out of Jericho's last pinning attempt. So you know if Chris lands this than it's over for your boyfriend.

"Oh, fuck no!" You jump out of your seat and slip past Taz.

You rush around the ring and shove Jericho to the floor while's he's got his back turned away from you. Chris's bat goes flying out of his hands and you pick it up.

"Ty might be to proud to be a cheater, Chris." You stare down Jericho as he gets to his feet slowly. "But I'm not like my boyfriend."

You swing the bat at Jericho and it collides with his head. The blow instantly crumples Chris to his knees and you drop the bat. Tyler finally stirs in the ring so you haul Jericho's fat ass up and roll him into the ring before calmly walking back over to the commentary table.

You are met by Taz who looks at you with adoration like you've never seen on the man's face before.

In the ring, Tyler gets to his feet and locks in REDRUM on Chris, not that it's need after your handwork. Aubrey calls a stop to the match after checking on Chris and the bell rings. You pluck the FTW championship from it's perch at the timekeepers area and make your way into the ring.

Tyler lifts himself back to his feet again and you hand his championship back to him. "I knew you could do it." You smile at him and lift his hand in the air in victory.

"Thanks for the help, babe." Tyler whispers to you, secretly proud that you didn't let any of Chris's bullshit slide.

The crowd cheers for Tyler and you hear Taz mention you back at the commentary table proudly. Chris Jericho has been silenced and all is right in the world again.

[yjhzies]

“You first.” — Hong Joshua

Genre: fluffffff <3 Warning: work stress (to reader) Pairings: joshua x gn!(?)reader (not sure, wrote this long ago 🥰) Word count: 0.6k

You look in the mirror as you close the face cream's lid. As your fingers trace across your lips, you notice how dry they have become. With a sigh, you reach for the drawer, where your lip balm should be, but it's not. You look everywhere for it, only to be disappointed when you can't find it. It eventually gets on your nerves. Was the excessive amount of work you did this week not enough to drive you insane? You're not usually like this. You're never like this.

"Looking for something?" a voice asked as you pushed the drawer closed. Your gaze followed the voice, eventually revealing Joshua. You nod, sighing to soothe yourself. "Lip balm," you pause and lean against the wall. "Have you seen it?" you add. You let out another sigh as Joshua shook his head.

Yeah, it was just a lipbalm, but it just... just frustrates you. So much. Was it a result of working too much? Stress? Exhaustion? No idea. But Joshua's presence did, however, at least somewhat ease the annoyance you were feeling. You shut your eyes, allowing the frustration that was building inside of you to subside.

And that didn't go unnoticed by Joshua. After approaching the bed and putting the blanket over the two of you, Joshua gave you a forehead kiss. A gentle, comforting one. You held his hands as you rested your head on his chest.

"I can't remember where I put it." you mumbled. Joshua lifted up your chin to meet his gaze. Having put on lip balm after practice, his lips were gleaming. Without warning, he shot you a silly smile and smashed his lips against yours, leaving your lips glowing with the lip balm as well.

"There," he smiled. "you don't need a lip balm anymore." he added, giggling. You raised your brows as you looked at him. That was definitely unexpected, especially given how sudden it was. When Shua noticed your pink cheeks, he smiled broadly, proud of himself that he was able to make you smile. Being the cute person that he is, he never fails to make you blush.

"That was... sudden," you muttered, unable to contain your smile, as you rubbed the side of your lip and looked away. "It is a win-win; you got lip balm on your lips and I also stole a kiss." Shua chuckled. And there you were, flashing that foolish smile. Just what Joshua wanted. Wrapping his arms around you, Joshua caressed your hair.

"Is there anything you want talk about?" his voice calm as he asked you. You take a deep breath before replying, "It's just about work," you pause. "nothing much, but I always need to be there for everything... plan things, lead the workers-" you sighed, unable to continue your sentence.

"I know it's easier said than done," Joshua paused, loosening his grip on you. "you should take a break, please." he added. You look at him, unsure of how to respond. "Please?" With a whispery voice, Joshua pleaded as he tightened his grip around you. Sighing, you nod your head as you smile. "Okay... It's not a bad idea." you spoke, earning a giggle from him.

You haven't taken a single break throughout the entire year, so he was correct after all. It would not hurt to take a little break because your business was currently operating smoothly. In fact, it was really good.

Joshua held you close the whole night, reassuring you that it was normal to mess up things or stress out sometimes. But that doesn't mean you'll not give yourself time and become workaholic.

"You should always put yourself first before anything else." Joshua spoke, running a hand over your hair as the moon shone brightly through the window's slightly open pane. "I'm an exception, though. I put you first before anything else." With a smile on his lips, he added.

You smiled and replied, "Fair enough, I also put you first." earning a kiss from Joshua.

[khalixvitae]

★Stitched ★

Idia Shroud x Reader | ~5k words

Warnings: none really??? Idia is self deprecating as usual. Allusions to book 6 lore but no spoilers. I leaned into Idia’s weird hybrid inferiority/superiority complex (he’s frustrating and annoying but that’s my wife). I wrote way more than I intended lmao.

Info: GN Reader with no physical descriptions. slowish burn, potential to be friends to lovers? No resolution in the end, a smattering of angst bc Idia is… well he’s himself. Heavily based on his vignettes, Home Screen idles, etc etc (this is for the detail oriented baddies and by that I mean I have capital A Autism and I’ve been fixated on him for months). I have been very into the idea of Idia making cosplays and props since becoming obsessed w his Halloween card, so uh. Yeah! There’s no mention of what the reader’s costume is, so it can be whoever you want! Only mentions that it’s from a manga so go wild! <3

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When Ortho Shroud suggested that you commission his brother to build a prop for your Halloween costume, you’d agreed enthusiastically. You’d even said something about how sure you were that it would look great- a compliment he’d pass on to his reclusive sibling. After all, Ortho was living(?) proof of Idia’s handiwork, so making a prop would be playing on easy mode. Ortho did neglect to mention that his brother was not taking commissions (and frankly never would if Idia had it his way), but it wouldn’t be that big of an issue, right?

Wrong. The second Idia’s phone pinged with a message from an unknown number, from your unknown number, he was convinced he was going to die.

You were lucky you’d stated your case all in one message- if you’d started with just a greeting and expected small talk he would’ve just preemptively blocked you to avoid your little side quest. Besides, who messaged someone so early in the morning? Another look at his phone through bleary eyes would show that it was actually 6 pm, but nonetheless! He’d just woken up, so it was still far too early for that kind of shameless extrovert behavior. At least your message was pretty concise; Ortho had passed along his number because you wanted to commission him, and you’d offer payment in exchange. As clear as that was, there was still a lot to unpack. Ortho’s intentions to find friends for him were clearly at play here, which would’ve ground his gears more if it all wasn’t so well meaning. But giving someone his number for a cosplay commission? That felt a little excessive! What kind of meet-cute scenario was this? And how on earth did you plan to pay for a custom piece anyway? Not that he would actually make it, of course, but hypothetically. He’d heard through the grapevine (read: Azul’s chattering during board game club meetings) that you had a part time gig at Monstro Lounge, but surely you wouldn’t be spending your limited in-game currency on a cosplay prop. While he thought it would be a stupid decision, he had to respect your dedication.

Hypothetically, of course.

Despite any reluctant interest he had in knowing what costume you were putting together, there was no way he’d actually agree to a commission. Besides, it was probably a lame request anyway. And who cares if you’d probably (definitely) look great in your costume? Certainly not Idia, no sir. And he totally didn’t think about how happy you’d be if he were to accept your commission (which he’d never do, of course), or how you’d look holding a piece of his unquestionably perfect work. No, he wouldn’t lie awake thinking about any of that at all. Thus he decided to ignore your text indefinitely- it’s not like he had his read receipts on or anything. He’d just kick back, work on his own nearly finished costume, and maybe even send a halfhearted “soz, just saw this :/” a day or two before Halloween night. No unnecessary and draining social interactions, and you wouldn’t have to be inevitably disappointed by… well, by him. His craftsmanship was S tier without a doubt, but he had a charisma stat of 4 at most. So he’d just let the message sit there. That would be easier for everyone involved.

Well, that was the plan. But as it turned out, Ortho would have none of it. When he’d caught wind that Idia hadn’t bothered to answer your message a whole day later, he’d immediately bombarded his big brother with endless arguments for your case. It was the usual string of points- that Idia would be happier if he had irl friends (as if), that his general quality of life would improve if he had some positive social interaction (no way!), and so on. At least he was sure Ortho’s logic processors were working as irritatingly well as ever, though Idia found his points far too idealistic. But logos wasn’t the way to go when talking Idia into something he had no interest in doing- it would have to be pathos all the way baby, appealing to what really made him tick. Unfortunately for him, Ortho knew that too.

“I need you to make a friend before you graduate,” he said abruptly, arms crossed like he was prepared for a one shot k.o. “Just one. I’m sorry I gave them your number without permission, but I really think this could be fun. You make the coolest stuff ever, and it’s your favorite holiday, so I thought it was a good opportunity for you to talk to someone.” He was silent for only a moment, as if deciding whether or not to deliver the final blow. “I just need to know my big brother will be okay after graduation. And I’d like to see you have fun every once and a while, you know.”

There it was, the absolute punch in the gut Idia was dreading. “You see me having fun all the time, Ortho. We hang out every day.” It was a weak argument and he knew it.

“Yeah and I love hanging out with you, but that’s different! And I know other people would love hanging out with you, too! You’re the coolest person ever, big bro.”

And how could he ever say no to that?

“What’s the costume anyway?” Idia muttered, pulling his lower lip between sharp teeth.

“I’m not sure. They told me it was someone from a manga they really like! You should ask them about it!” Ortho was absolutely beaming. Something in Idia’s chest ached.

His response to your message was short and simple. He asked what your inspiration would be, and what prop you were looking for. Price could be negotiated, etcetera.

You responded with astounding speed; it made him nauseous. At least you were courteous, though. You gave him a lot of info to say the least- more than he needed considering he was a fan of the same series. Ortho had definitely known that, but that was a complaint for some other time. He had to admit it was a good choice- and the character you had in mind would suit you well (he’d never put that in writing so long as he lived). You sent him all of your inspo pictures- purely from the manga, you explained, as the anime adaptation had changed some of the details and you had a strong preference- as well as any measurements he might need. Idia couldn’t resist pointing out that the anime had made a number of phenomenal aesthetic choices, which did start somewhat of a tangent. Before he knew it, he was caught in a back and forth with you. It was… easy. Way easier than he had expected. When you stopped replying he was even a little disheartened; that is until he realized it was nearly 4 am. It had been that long of a conversation? Something about that made him warm all over. He’d ignore it for the moment.

When you messaged him back the following morning he felt the same rush of… something wash over him. And so a tentative back and forth between you two began. Draft sketches and material concepts on his end, and what felt like endless amounts of praise from you. That’s not to say you never brought any criticism to the table. You were just as fickle as he was, it seemed- and he liked arguing with you. Whether it was about the commission or over some unrelated tangent (which the two of you frequently succumbed to), there was something uniquely fun about debating your shared interests.

Over the week or so leading up to Halloween, your communication persisted outside of his prop updates. You even sent him photos of Grim! It was hard to stomach that he’d hit it off so well with some normie, but if you were sending him cat photos and had some (several) based media takes he’d tolerate that discomfort. Part of him kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, of course. The exchange was transactional- after Ortho delivered the prop to you, there would be no need to keep socializing with him. He couldn’t imagine why you’d want to anyway. Speaking of transactions, the two of you hadn’t decided on a price point. Or rather whenever you’d ask, he pushed the question aside by saying he ‘wasn’t sure yet’. He’d given you a relative range, but no exact number. He felt pathetic, but part of him didn’t even want to charge you for it. It wasn’t like he needed the money anyway, and Ortho had been right about the whole arrangement entertaining him. He couldn’t believe he was going so soft. But it wasn’t entirely his fault! Every time he’d start to work up the nerve to give a number, you’d do something so nice it made his head hurt. Sometimes it was asking questions about his games, or sending him voice messages so you could keep the conversation going when you couldn’t text. You’d even asked to vc once or twice! He’d denied that request, but nonetheless you asked! How was he supposed to follow that up? “Oh haha yeah, it’ll be like half your last paycheck sry lmao”? He’d rather die! He knew what his work was worth (and frankly so did you), but the idea of charging you that amount was a little nauseating. How fucking lame could he get?

And the other shoe did drop eventually, just not in the way he’d expected. It came as a lull in your late night banter, followed by ‘[name] is typing…’ for quite some time. That totally didn’t make him want to puke, no way. The message that followed was as short as it was sweet.

“Hey, so ik it’s not really your scene, but I’m having a Halloween thing at Ramshackle. Idk if I’d call it a party but yk it’s something. I was wondering if you’d want to stop by? If not that’s totally cool!”

Idia stared at that message for a while. Shit. Of course there was no way he’d go, not a chance, but he couldn’t just say that could he? He’d rather be dropped headlong into Tartarus than to go to some gathering of extroverts and npcs when he could be collecting his Halloween login rewards. At the same time, giving you a resounding ‘fuck no’ sounded just as unpleasant. So he just sat there and stared for a while before doing what he did best: he gave some vague, noncommittal answer.

“uhhh idk. I don’t wanna intrude haha. plus i have a raid planned so idk if i could make it sry”.

It seemed like you got what he was trying to say; Idia was beginning to resent just how well you listened to him.

“Totally get it! Just thought I’d ask :)! Send pics of ur costume tho! I wanna see it all put together :D!”

He tossed his phone aside, opting to throw himself face down in his pillow with a resounding groan. Why did you have to be so considerate? You had to have known he’d reject that request, so why even ask? And why did it mean so much to him that you had? His moping was interrupted by Ortho knocking at the door. Idia just grunted in response, turning his head to face him.

“What’s the matter bro?” Ortho hovered in the doorway, glowing eyes keenly focused on Idia’s sprawled figure. At times like this, only illuminated by blue screens and his own artificial fire, he had an uncanny effect that was hard to shake.

Idia peeked at him through his flickering bangs, huffing a little and sending the flames askew. He subsequently realized that they were streaked with a mortifying shade of pink, one that made him want to scream into the pillow all over again. “Nothing, I’m good. What’s up?” It was obviously a lie and he wasn’t helping his case by rolling over to face the wall.

“I wanted to see if you were up for a few pvp rounds before I set up to charge for the night. But what’s going on? My scanners detect no signs of physical injury, but your vitals indicate distress. Do you need medical attention?” Idia didn’t have to turn around to know his ‘brother’ had hovered closer.

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid-,” he planted his face back into the pillow defeatedly. “It’s- [name] invited me to some stupid Halloween thing.” It was muffled, but that didn’t matter. There was no way Ortho wouldn’t hear him, so there was no need to sit up.

“They invited you to a party? That’s awesome! We could go together! I know, you could even give them the prop in person and see their costume completed!”

“I’m not going.”

“What? Why not? You’ve had so much fun talking to them and working on this commission! You should go see them!” Ortho was gearing up for another uphill battle, one Idia was once again going to resist him on.

“Because I don’t want to. You can go, I guess. I mean I’m sure you’re invited. That’s probably why they asked me, right? Because we’re a package deal? You’ll have more fun without me there to weigh you down. And anyway, I don’t wanna be around that many people. It’ll probably be total npc shit anyway.” He fell silent for a moment, the quiet whir of machine fans filling the air in his stead. Ortho didn’t try to interject.

“It’s not like- it’s not like they wanna see me anyway. Maybe my costume, I mean its S tier, but not me. And I can’t even get on a vc with them- I’d be seriously delusional if I thought I could hang out with them irl.”

“Hey, they totally want to see you. I mean, I’m sure they want to see your costume too. But I know they want to see you. If you don’t feel like going that's okay, but I don’t want you to miss out because you think their invitation wasn’t genuine.”

“Why? Like I know we get along fine over chat, and they’ve interacted with my tablet, but what if they see me irl and get all weirded out? ‘Oh, why is he blue all over? What’s with his teeth? Ewww’. I think I’ll pass.” He chewed at his sleeve, nervous over the mere prospect of facing you like that. “Even if they’ve seen me in passing like once, being up close is a whole other level.”

There was another long pause before Ortho spoke again. “They like your hair.”

“What?”

“They told me they like your hair. Like you said, they’ve seen you irl once or twice in passing. Should I play the recording for you?”

Idia felt a little conflicted about that. It felt a little invasive somehow. But a far less conflicted part of him (his massive ego) needed to hear it, and ultimately triumphed. “Yeah, fine. Go ahead.” He curbed his anxious enthusiasm by biting his sleeve even harder.

“Sure thing! Commencing playback.” There was the sudden background noise of hallway chatter, followed by your voice. “I think I saw your brother in the library yesterday. Well, I’m assuming it was him, he looked a lot like you. He’s got great hair, I’ve never seen anything like it. It must’ve taken forever to grow it out that long.”

There was a measured click as the clip came to a stop. “Recording ends. See? They don’t think you look weird. And there’s nothing else in my data logs to indicate that they would.”

“That’s… not exactly reassuring,” Idia muttered, watching as the mess of curls surrounding him flickered to life with the same rosy hues as before. Of course you wouldn’t tell Ortho that you thought he looked weird, that was his brother. But nevertheless, that was technically a compliment. A win was a win right?

“We should go, I think they’d love to see you there in person. We could even go super early to drop off the prop and leave before everyone else gets there,” Ortho chimed in, clearly trying to find some loophole in his brother’s anxiety. “And we can show off our costumes again.” There was another long pause.

“Fine. But just to drop it off.”

The remaining few days passed without incident, aside from Idia’s mounting anxieties (which he was sure would culminate in sudden death). Half dressed for the function, he sat on the edge of his bed and sent you photos of the final product. At the very least he was sure you’d like it- how could you not? He was a master craftsman after all. Your response came back at the typical lightning speed. He doubted he’d ever get used to that.

“Holy shit, it’s perfect??? Thank you so so much, I love it!! <3 did u sign it?”

“no lmao?? y?”

“Bc it’s your work??? And u should be proud of it and put ur name on it ??? Duh??? And bc I want you to ofc.”

Well that was certainly unexpected. He sat there for a minute and mulled it over- what could you possibly gain from him signing it? Did you really just want that, plain and simple? God you were fucking weird. It did feel kind of nice though. Nice enough for a smile to fight its way onto his face as he meandered back to his workstation. What was the harm in indulging that request?

“can do ig. i charge extra for autographs tho, soz. so ik ortho was gonna drop this off, but is it cool if i come? want to make sure it doesn’t need any adjustments etc yk”

Even though it took him a few (fifteen) minutes to type, it came out smoother than he’d expected. He’d consider it a win. Of course the piece didn’t need any adjusting, it was perfect and he knew it, but he had to justify his sudden appearance (mostly to himself).

“You can make it ??? Nice !!! Yeah ofc! Come over whenever :D !!! <3”

Hearts. Were you trying to kill him? And why did your texts read like the logs of a dating sim? Maybe he should lay off the otome games.

Getting fully into costume was a little more complicated than he’d anticipated. Combined with putting the finishing touches on Ortho’s matching specs and engraving an insignia onto your prop, there was no way the Shroud duo would arrive early. In fact, they’d be perfectly punctual (which Idia loathed). Halfway up the driveway to Ramshackle he started digging his heels into the dirt. Even from a distance he could see light streaming through the dingy windows, along with far too many figures crowded on the porch. Part of him wondered how many students such a dilapidated structure could support- he decided to drop that train of thought before he collapsed in your front yard. “Hey- maybe this is a bad idea. Even if they wanna see me-“

But it was too late. Cater was the first to spot the two, and immediately came down the stairs to greet them. Oh great, a boss level extrovert right off the bat? He had to get out of here!

“Hey hey! I didn’t expect to see you two here! Ooh, whatcha got there? And nice costumes! Did you make them yourself?” The redhead had a cup in one hand and his cellphone in the other, his head cocked as he observed the brothers.

Idia’s mouth just sort of stopped working, and the more questions Cater asked the more he wanted to dip out. Luckily Ortho was way better at navigating normie conversations.

“Hi Cater Diamond! [Name] invited us! And yes my brother made our costumes, aren’t they so cool? We’re kind of in a hurry though, we have the last piece of [Name]’s costume! Once we get it to them, we’ll have more time to talk.” He started to move past Cater, who was now more than ready to usher them through the throng of people in the foyer. Idia followed behind in amazement. Having Ortho around was such an op move.

“Oh nice! They should still be upstairs. Once they’re all set the three of you should come back down so I can snap your pics, ‘kay? You guys really went all out!” Cater slipped away easily before either brother could refuse his invitation. Well, Idia would just have to make sure the coast was clear when he decided to make his escape. The two made their way up the rickety staircase (seriously, how was this place still standing?) and onto the landing above. Your bedroom door was open so at the very least you were easy to locate. Before Idia would go any further he slipped on the pumpkin helmet, properly obscuring his face. That felt a little better- maybe he’d actually be able to look at you.

He lingered behind Ortho as if it would block him from your view (despite being much taller than the android model), knocking at the door frame twice. “Uh… hey. Can we come in?”

You looked up from your phone with a start, eyes widening as you took them in. “Idia? Wait, holy shit, you guys look sick.” You were fully in costume- had you been waiting for them? The way you said his name nearly made him keel over right then and there. “Like I knew they would be cool, but this is insane.” Your gaze flickered to the prop in his hands. “And that’s for me? Dude, it’s perfect. Seriously, thank you so much. I’m so glad you came.”

Idia didn’t process half of it, including you taking the prop from his grasp. You looked so good he felt lightheaded. Forget talking to you, now he was worried about remaining upright. “You- uh- yeah. You too,” he stammered weakly. You too? That didn’t make any sense! “I mean- I mean you look cool. And yeah this is for you.” Breathing in the helmet was a bit of a challenge and he couldn’t recall a time his throat had ever been drier. Ortho made no effort to intervene either- he was just watching, practically on standby mode as his brother made a fool of himself. Great. So much for his op cheat code.

He decided that looking anywhere but at you was his best option, his eyes scanning along the walls of your bedroom. It did look liveable, he’d give you that much. You even had a small shelf with a decently sized manga collection- considering how long you’d been there and the wages Monstro paid, he was kind of impressed. It was cute (you were cute). Your voice snapped him back out of his meditative scanning.

“Sorry there are so many people. I would’ve given you a heads up, but I had no idea it would be this crazy. People just started posting about it and,” you sighed. “So now like half the school is in my condemned house. Happy Halloween I guess? Deuce and Jack got a few of the other first years to preemptively agree to help with post party cleanup, so that’s nice.” You were still looking at him intently; Idia had to remind himself that you were checking out his costume and not him, of course. Unfortunately that didn’t stop the ends of his hair from flickering a dull but obvious pink. He knew it caught your attention, but you didn’t mention it. Instead you opted to change the subject entirely. By the Seven, how were you so good at this? “Anyway, I wanna hear all about your costumes. I got bits and pieces over messages but give me the rundown!”

Now that he could do.

Infodumping was an art form, and boy had Idia Shroud mastered it. From the materials he used to the classic inspo, he was more than happy to tell you all about his creations. It took him a little warming up, but he was quickly in full swing. Down to the sound effect rigging, he gave you a thorough explanation of his work. You seemed particularly delighted in how he and Ortho’s costumes were a matching pair, and of course that opened the floor for him to explain the intricacies of making new specs for his brother. In his excited haste, he’d even taken off the helmet to show you its interior. He didn’t notice for quite a while, nor did you make any mention of it. You just watched him, smiling and nodding attentively. By the time he picked up on just how greatly his range of vision had improved, it was far too late. With his peripheral unblocked he also realized that Ortho was gone. A wave of panic washed over him as he reassessed his surroundings. It was just the two of you, standing beyond the threshold of your bedroom, alone. How long had he been talking? And why were you looking at him with those big, starry eyes? He tried to tell you to stop staring, but no sound came out. Once again, Idia was convinced he was going to die.

You definitely caught onto his nervous demeanor- he wished you’d stop doing that. “Hey, so how much do I owe you?” You asked, your voice gentler than he’d realistically want it to be. Why were you being so nice to him? You had the prop already, so just kick him out! There was a whole party going on downstairs, yet here you were spending god only knows how long alone with him! Wasn’t that depressing?

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t a hard ask, and only noobs care about production costs,” he muttered, his tone not entirely unkind but thoroughly dismissive nonetheless.

“Oh- are you sure? Idia, it’s really beautifully done. Even if it wasn’t hard to do, you still took the time to do it. I owe you something.”

“I could make another one in my sleep. Just take it,” he was planning his escape, but could see no easy way out besides just turning tail and running. “Sorry for uh- well, for keeping you up here for so long. You’ve got a party to get to.”

“I’ll take it if you’re sure. Thank you, seriously. And don’t apologize, I like talking to you. I know this really isn’t your scene, so I really appreciate you coming out tonight.” The way you looked at him had him itching to put the helmet back on in record time. Your next words would foil even that half baked plan and freeze him in place. “If you wanted, maybe you could come over and hang out sometime? It’s not normally this crowded, it’s usually just Grim and I. You’re welcome here whenever, and so is Ortho.”

Every turn of phrase felt like you were whittling a hole in his brain, which made it increasingly difficult to think straight. What angle were you trying to work here? Was it just to embarrass him? He couldn’t think of a single thing you could gain from befriending him, which frankly made your kindness even more concerning. You had him one friendly gesture away from counting five things he could see, four things he could touch, and so on in the middle of the function. “I’m gonna go find Ortho,” he stated, abruptly turning on his heel. Now was not the time to go nonverbal, but that was steadily where he was headed. And he’d been doing so well! He’d talked to you irl, face to face! You hadn’t even seemed grossed out- if anything it felt like the opposite (which he would ignore). But of course his brain had to catch up and ruin everything. No, he had to ruin everything, just like always. This fucking sucked. The pumpkin helmet was back on, and he wasn’t showing his face until he was safely back at Ignihyde.

“Oh! Yeah, of course. I’ll walk down with you.” You wasted no time following after him, still holding your new prop. The trip down the main staircase was a silent one, but the raucous sounds of the party below more than made up for it. You didn’t push him to speak, which he was begrudgingly grateful for.

It was no surprise that your arrival from upstairs with Idia in tow drew a little attention. Cater even snapped a photo, saying something about how “cammable” you two looked (Idia didn’t have the strength to wonder where that photo would end up). You handled your entrance to the gathering like a pro, deflecting all the attention away from him with a small smile. He really couldn’t decide whether or not he hated how considerate you were, but that would be a viable train of thought once he was safely in his own bedroom. As he slipped away to find Ortho, he heard you discussing your costume with those gathered at the bottom of the stairs. Working up the nerve to risk a look back, he saw you proudly showing off the piece he’d made for you. The way you were so eager to credit him for it was debilitating.

Part of him wondered what would happen if he walked back over and joined the crowd. He knew he didn’t belong there, of course, but hypothetically. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining what it would be like to stand there by your side for just a little longer, to even let people photograph the two of you together. You hadn’t seemed to mind it a moment before. But maybe you were just being nice. You were always so nice. Regardless these were only hypotheticals, and he was bound to ruin your time if he stayed any longer. He’d be doing you a favor by leaving, right?

Right. With one last look at you, he resolved to find Ortho and get the hell out while he could, for your sake and his own.

Maybe next year, then.

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Tag list: @v-anrouge @vtoriacore @phoneymedic @gum-gum-time @heatofmyexoheart (dm to be removed or added! <3)

Soz for not posting for a while (and this late as hell Halloween fic eek!), I obliterated my ankle about a week ago and have just been taking time to recover (that is a lie I’ve had to go to work every day on it but I digress!!!)

[wil-o-wispy]

The Wife, The Lover and the Bastard Son - Part 1

Chris Redfield x Reader

Part 1 (You are here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Synopsis: After a long day of being interrogated about Wesker's work in Africa, you try to drown your sorrows in liquor. Too bad it won't work out as planned with Chris Redfield watching your every move.

Includes: Minor reader injury, excessive drinking, vaguely referenced unwanted advances from a stranger, spoliers for RE5, my first time posting my writing publicly. Enjoy!

Hurt/Comfort with plot. Reader is referred to as 'Doc.'

wc: 3.8k+

“I had it handled.” Your tone was matter of fact and icy. You were not the best fighter by any stretch of the imagination, but you were positive you could have taken down that wobbling drunk with a good kick.

Chris kept his eyes on the road. From the streetlights outside the car that came and went as Chris drove his hummer towards your home, you could see his stony expression illuminate and darken.

“You were just about on the receiving end of a right hook.” His hands tightly grip the steering wheel. Not in anger, but in frustration at the situation you’d found yourself in.

“And I was preparing to counter just like Jill taught me. Your point?”

“My point? You almost got in a bar fight! Why were you even in there at this time of night?”

Your mouth falls open. “Oh so it’s my fault some small-dicked idiot doesn’t know what ‘no’ means?”

“That’s not what I said-“

“And you didn’t have to! I’m a grown ass woman. I can handle my own problems. I don’t need you playing hero for me. And if I want to drink myself into a coma on a weekday, I have every right to do that without getting chewed out by you.”

You look at Chris with a withering glare and he shuts his mouth and keeps driving. A tense silence overtakes the car. In truth, your night getting cut short by a drunk asshole then Chris intervening on the almost fight was just the final incident after a long day that made you see red. You shift uncomfortably in your carefully curated, business casual outfit. A minute later, you let out a tired sigh.

“I’m sorry. If you must know, I had a tough day and I didn’t want to drink alone.”

The captain tilts his head, still keeping his eyes on the road. “The D.S.O. interview?”

You could feel your eyes getting hot. When you had married Albert Wesker all those years ago, you couldn’t imagine that your life would be like this; living under the protection of the B.S.A.A. and questioned on yet another aspect of Albert Wesker’s work every few months. It’s days like this when it feels like Albert isn’t actually gone. Even in death, his stain on the world of bioterrorism still found ways to torment your existence. You being a former Umbrella scientist didn’t help your case either, regardless of the fact that you never participated in Albert’s schemes.

“More like interrogation… but yeah.”

Chris’ expression softens. “What was it about this time?”

You take a deep calming breath, debating on keeping the details to yourself as usual. Chris wasn’t your friend. He was your designated agent that gave you assignments whenever another virus made itself known (which was more often than you would think). You made a point to keep things professional between you two. Anything more felt taboo given the circumstances of your relationship. The will to keep it that way had worn thin with the day’s events, so you relented but kept the answer short.

“Africa. Again.”

More silence. You notice Chris sigh and look annoyed, but don’t draw attention to it. Africa was a sensitive subject for both of you. It marked the explosive conclusion to your marriage with Albert, and the beginning of your strained alliance with his murderer. You didn’t hold it against Chris in the slightest. You really didn't. Deep down you know Albert would have ended humanity with a smirk plastered on his face. You’d already mourned the loss of the man you married long before his heart stopped beating. Since then, Chris had surprisingly and unwaveringly advocated for you. He even worked out a deal on you becoming a consultant on viruses for the B.S.A.A. in exchange for protection. He’d helped you so much over the years. More than you could ever hope to repay. That debt continues to grow with every kind gesture. You hated it.

Tonight for example: after Chris grabbed that drunk’s arm on the backswing and pinned him to the bar counter, both of you got kicked out. You didn’t even get your drink. You’d already had a rough day, so you yelled at Chris about him being a stalker and an asshole as you stomped back to your car. A comical insult considering knowing your whereabouts was a part of his job. All you wanted to do was go back home, resigned to drink alone, but lo and behold your car wouldn’t start and Chris noticed. He had every right to leave you to fend for yourself, but instead he insisted on driving you home.

“You’d think after three years they’d run out of questions to ask. The government keeps hiring investigators more stupid than the last. It’s incredible really.” You quip with some annoyance after a moment, trying to ease the tension. Chris still stares at the road in silence, so you keep going.

“They demanded a lot of answers about why we helped each other that day. That was a fun trip down memory lane. Don’t be surprised if someone calls you to verify that I told them the truth.”

Chris takes a deep breath, shifts in his seat and his posture relaxes slightly. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I am talking to you.”

“I mean beyond the one-word answers. I know there’s a lot on your mind. You can talk to me.”

You roll your eyes and go back to looking at the streetlights go by out the window.

“Right. Because you’re so unbiased about this subject.”

“I’m serious. I’ll just listen if you need to vent.”

“You’re already driving me home. I don’t need any more favors from you tonight.”

“It’s not a favor. I just want to help.”

You think about it for a moment. This wasn’t the first time Chris tried to get you to open up to him. But instead of brushing it off like before, you consider it. And the more you thought about it, the more it made sense that Chris would be the perfect person to weigh in on your interview with the D.S.O. He worked under Wesker at the R.P.D., knew nearly every single thing there was to know about him from tracking Wesker down over the years, and he’d witnessed Wesker’s possessive treatment of you the day he died. He didn’t look at you with disdain like most of the B.S.A.A. He saw you for who you were. The only person who could even be remotely as qualified was Jill, but she was still getting back on her feet after what happened in Africa. Plus, you doubted she would willingly listen to a rant about anything remotely associated to the man who brainwashed her.

Plus it would be nice to have someone listen to your complaints without looking at you like you were the scum of the earth.

Eventually, Chris pulls up to the small house that the B.S.A.A. had put you in for witness protection. It was an older one story house with a few problems here and there, but it was inconspicuous and you had managed to make it feel more like ‘yours’ with the handful decorations and plants you had accumulated over the last few months.

Chris pulls into the driveway and puts his hummer into park. Both of you just sit in silence for a few seconds, with Chris staring at the steering wheel and you at the sad excuse of a flower bed leading up to your front door.

“Doc-”

“Sure.”

Chris looks at you, confused. “What?”

You turn your gaze from the window to Chris. “I’d… appreciate having someone to vent to.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car. You lean your head back in the car before you close the door with a cheeky smile. “Care to join me so I don’t have to drink alone?”

____________________________________

If nothing else, Chris Redfield proved to be a great drinking buddy. He took what was offered to him, drank without complaint, and took care to keep both of your glasses full throughout your animated storytelling of the day’s events. Although he did limit himself because he had to be sober enough to drive home, which you understood.

You on the other hand, had enough drinks in you to cause the vibe of the room to feel fuzzy, your social filter to disappear, your shoes and socks to be discrded in the corner, and to have any soft surface to feel like the most comfortable thing in the universe. You had completely relaxed laying out on the end of your sofa by the side table where Chris opted to sit in the armchair caddy cornered to the couch next to you, listening intently to your retelling of the days events.

“…then this pencil pushing government lackey asks me if I personally had anything to do with the development of that plaga strain that popped up in Africa.”

You motion your empty glass to Chris, and he reaches over from his spot in the armchair to grab the whiskey bottle on the coffee table to pour more into your glass while nursing his own drink.

“Thank you. And when I told him no, he started going on this tirade. And if he’d read any further than the last name at the top of the damn page, then he’d know my specialty isn’t parasites. It’s viruses! Yet this half-assed excuse of-”

You hiccup and take a moment to compose yourself after the hiccup before continuing while Chris makes no attempt to hide his smirk at your drunkenness.

“-half-assed excuse of a government agent goes on this rant of how I had to have been involved. There was no conceivable way that I wasn’t at least consulted on the development of the new plaga. So I tried to break down the differences between a virus and a parasite to him, and by the end of that little lesson I was convinced he didn’t know his ass from his elbow!”

You down the whiskey is one clean chug. Chris let’s out a light-hearted laugh at that, much to your annoyance.

“It’s not funny,” you admonish while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It isn’t, but the way you’re telling it is.”

“Well, I’m glad my suffering is entertaining to you.”

“Go on, what happened next?”

Your face grows a bit more serious.

“The bit after that isn’t as funny.”

Another charismatic smile. “Go ahead. I want to hear it.”

You look at Chris, and the look on his face is so genuine, so kind, that you find yourself speaking before you can stop yourself.

“He started questioning me on what I was doing if I wasn’t helping create these things. He was asking why I stood by and did nothing. Why didn’t I try to contact anyone, sabotage the work, try to leave… that kind of thing. And how many deaths could have been avoided if I just sucked it up and called someone.”

In truth, those questions that the agent asked you prompted a well of guilt that you’d safely tucked away to return with a vengeance. In reality, there was very little you could have done to influence the outcome of anything Wesker was involved in, and there was nothing that could have been done to stop Uroboros before Chris and Sheva were sent to Africa.

But there was always that little pit of guilt haunting the back of your mind: If you were cleverer, you could have gotten a radio sooner. If you cared more, the subjects for those experiments wouldn’t have died. If you weren’t so afraid you could have stolen a phone or a laptop and ended Wesker’s reign of bioweapon terror years sooner.

That last one weighed heavy on your mind long before the D.S.O. interview.

You feel tears start to prick your eyes and you remember why you wanted to drink in the first place. You can’t be consumed by guilt if you’re too intoxicated to remember it.

“Top me off will you?” The request comes out in a mumble, laced with a false jovialness that not even you are convinced of. You don’t even hold up the glass in Chris’ general direction. You only stare mindlessly into it from your perch on the couch.

“Hey…look at me.”

You look up from your glass and become slightly startled from Chris’ close proximity. You hadn’t even realized Chris had gotten up from the armchair on your right to kneel in front of you at the end of the couch. You can feel the heat of him he’s so close. His concerned and comforting look and tone brings you dangerously close to shedding tears. Suddenly, Chris’ presence in your house feels suffocating and his gaze makes you feel exposed. You look to the side and stare at the rug.

“I’m sorry this was a bad idea. I think you should go.”

You move to get up from the couch and Chris mercifully backs up and gives you room to walk. Calling your movement a walk at this point was generous. You shuffled like the undead trying to head to your front door; unbalanced yet somehow still walking upright.

“Doc-”

You call over your shoulder back to him. “I’ll escort you out. Do me a solid and forget this happened.” You start to turn back towards the door and you feel your foot catch, stomach drop and body lurch forward.

In the moment, you forget about the little wooden divider between the hallway to your front door and the living room. Thankfully, by throwing your other foot forward and flailing your arms you catch your weight and you don’t fall to the ground. But the shock of suddenly almost losing your balance causes the grip on your glass to loosen. Before you could stop it, the glass in your hand slips between your fingers and shatters in the little hallway to your front door between your kitchen and living room. In your drunken and vulnerable state, the symphony of glass sounds like a death toll.

“Oh.. shit I’m sorry about that. Just… just get out. Watch the glass.”

You didn’t know why you were apologizing to Chris for breaking your own things. You felt like you were being viewed under a microscope and every little thing was being analyzed by Chris, who still wore his worried demeanor under a decisive mask of calmness.

“Hey it’s alright. You go sit back down…” His voice is so infuriatingly calm.

Chris’ body starts to try and move past you towards your kitchen, presumably to find something to clean up your blunder for you. The very idea of having this man do any more favors for you made your chest tighten and you to move to clean up the mess before he does too quickly.

“No this needs to ge- mph!”

When you stepped towards your kitchen to get a broom, you felt an agonizingly sharp pain in your foot. You instinctively lift the injured foot and lean on the archway, but drunkenness and balance rarely ever agree with each other. Your hand doesn’t gain enough purchase on the wall, so your arm slides past its target and you gracelessly and painfully crumple to the ground. It was a kind of fall that knocked the wind out of you for a moment.

“Shit.” You breathe out heavily, trying and failing to hold back your tears and attempting to get up. Chris is quick to act before you make much progress. He kneels down in front of you, gently grasping your shoulders, taking care to step around the glass in the process.

“Where does it hurt? That sounded painful.”

“I’m fine.” You grit through your teeth.

Once you’re sitting upright on the ground, Chris takes one look at your foot, and you see a slight shift in his expression where his eyes get just a tad wider. You can physically see him shift from concerned friend to authoritative captain. He speaks with soft authority.

“Stay put. Don’t get up.”

Before you can say anything, he disappears into your kitchen. You lift your leg and tilt your head to get a better view of your foot and you see red. Your foot is smeared with blood and bits of glass. You instinctively go to pull a larger glass piece out of your foot, but even with all of the whiskey you drank, it hurts like hell and you hiss in pain. You hear hurried footfall from the kitchen.

“Hey! Don’t do that.”

Chris gently removes the hand that’s trying to pick out the glass from your foot, places a wet rag in your hand, then moves it back to your foot, lightly clasping his hand over yours and your foot for a moment and you wince. He watches you with kind eyes.

“Keep that on there, ok?”

“I don’t want your-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish before you see him return to the kitchen. A moment later he reappears with a broom and a first aid kit. Chris tosses the first aid kit beside you and quickly sweeps the glass into a small pile by the arch so it’s out of the way of foot traffic and haphazardly leans the broom on the wall. Smudges of blood remain on the floor, but Chris ignores it in favor of sitting down next to you and digging supplies out of the med kit; disinfectant, tweezers, gauze.

“Stop! Okay? You really don’t have to do that…” You hear your words slurring together.

Chris ignores your protest and gently, but firmly, wraps his fingers around your ankle. He pulls it towards himself and you let go of the wet cloth as he perches your ankle on his knee.

“I do, actually. You’ve had a lot to drink and this glass isn’t going to pick out itself.”

“Will you just stop? I can bandage myself up.”

A lie. You’re too drunk and you know it. He knows it. You weakly try to pull back your foot, but there is resistance from Chris’ grip. You looks at you with a soft, but exasperated look.

“You’re drunk and you’re bleeding! Just let me take care of you.”

“And why the fuck do you even want to?” You’re angry. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get friendly with Chris. Pissed at Chris for being so nice after your repeated attempts to keep him at arms length. Heated from him ignoring your requests to stop helping you because you sure as hell don’t deserve it.

Chris looks at you and answers straight away, gently pulling your foot back towards him by your ankle.

“Because I’m not going to leave you when you need help!”

You just looked at Chris with your puffy eyes, flushed face, and tear-streaked cheeks. You two sit there for a long moment looking at each other. You’re frozen in your spot from his words.

“Why the hell are you of all people still trying to help me? You should hate me.” Your tone is incredulous and quiet.

You knew for a fact that your presence at the B.S.A.A. as a consultant instead of criminal at Chris’ own insistence caused far more trouble than it was worth over the years. The attempted kidnappings, the death threats, the extortion attempts and countless other events that occurred as a result of your proximity to Wesker and the B.S.A.A. caused, at best, a headache for the captain. Wasted time, wasted resources, wasted manpower, wasted anything that could be used to fight bioweapons instead of bad actors that wanted you dead at worst. Chris had absolutely no incentive to keep helping you after Africa, yet here he was. He had every right to look at you with disgust for sleeping with the enemy, yet he’s always tried to befriend you.

The silence stretches for an uncomfortable amount of time while Chris picks the glass out of your foot. It stretches through Chris disinfecting the wounds. It ends when he starts to bandage your foot with a roll of gauze.

“Your only crime here is falling in love with the wrong man.”

Chris wraps the final bit of gauze around your foot, and looks back up at you with a reserved playfulness.

“Last I checked, you get left off with a warning on that one.”

“People died because I didn’t do enough-”

“People died because Wesker was a psychopath. That’s not your fault.”

You look at Chris in silent shock.

No one in the years after Wesker died had told you that you weren’t at fault for what he did. You were always met with suspicious glances, strict professionalism, or outright disdain when you were forced to talk about him or any projects he was related to. You thought you deserved it. Even Jill still held you at arm’s length when it came to being vulnerable about what happened with Wesker. This was the first time that anyone had shown you genuine compassion and absolved you completely of guilt. And it’s devastating.

You can’t do anything except burst into tears.

Your vision goes blurry and before you can even think about stopping it, your body is wracked with sobs and you cry. Still unbalanced from your drinking, you lean on the wall facing Chris.

There’s a moment where Chris isn’t sure of what to do. But he knows that he can’t leave you like this. Chris tentatively reaches out his hand towards your shoulder, carefully watching you to gauge whether or not you wanted physical comfort.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay…” Chris’ voice falls over you like a weighted blanket. The heavy soothing tonality of his voice cuts through guilt that had been plaguing your mind and you can’t help but lean into his touch when his hand rubs your shoulder.

You don’t fight him when he pulls you into his lap. His embrace is warm, comforting and everything that you didn’t know you needed up until the moment you had it. One of your hands grab a fistful of his shirt for support, and you bury your face in Chris’ neck as you continue to sob.

“It��s alright, let it out…”

The captain’s tone never wavers outside of that low, soothing timbre. Chris uses the hand that’s not wrapped around your torso to rub comforting circles between your shoulders. His touch is consistent and methodical. It takes a long time, but eventually your breathing starts to even, sobs morph into sniffles, and rigid muscles relax into Chris’ embrace.

“Do you need anything? Anything at all?”

You hesitate for a moment, but nod your head. You let go of Chris’ shirt and maneuver your arms over his shoulders and squeeze. Chris gets the message immediately. Chris wraps his arms around you in a tight and comforting hug. The heat of him engulfs you fully and for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is okay.

There’s no Wesker, no D.S.O., no bioterrorism organizations intruding on your life.

There’s only you and Chris.

And for once, that’s enough.

_____________________________

Hopefully this will be a full series but we'll see if that happens with my work schedule. Thanks for reading!

[kiraswritten]

Pyro x Reader (Smut)

pairing: pyro x reader warning: smut (not full blown but it gets pretty steamy), excessive swearing bc i love to swear, and excessive use of parentheses word count: 2k+

authors note: ya if you've read Just Maybe, this is legit word for word but it was originally written for Pyro. wrote this ages ago on another blog and i’m just trying to consolidate everything on here! :)

You’re not the type of person that wants to be in a relationship; not you cause you’re still young and why would you want to be with one person for the rest of your life so early on?

You were the type of person that liked to have a certain sense of freedom and no way was a committed relationship a thing you desired, which is why your relationship with Pyro is perfect.

He felt the same way; he too didn’t want the commitment and the hassle of feelings; those things were messy and a lot of things in Pyro’s life was already fucked up.

There you were, on his bed, straddling him only in your bra and panties (He took those off long ago), as he nipped and sucked on your neck, wonderful sounds of pleasure leaving your lips. It was a typical Thursday for the both of you; after training the two of you would take a quick shower (sometimes together) and end up in Pyro’s bed, usually naked.

“You smell like Apples,” he mumbled against your skin, dragging his teeth along the crook of your neck.

“New body wash, you like?” You teased, grinding your wet heat against his crotch.

“Tease, you know I do.” He said, biting and sucking on your neck until he left a bruise.

“You ass I can’t cover that!” You hissed, glaring at him.

Pyro rolled his eyes, “Everyone already knows we fuck; you’re acting like such a priss.” His hands trail down to your waist, slowly pushing off your lace panties.

“As much as I love these on you, they need to come off.” He grinned.

You lift your ass up (earning a groan from Pyro, he loved watching you getting naked), letting him pull off the thin article of clothing from your body, then chucking it off somewhere in the far corner of his room.

You sit back down on him, a sly grin on your face as he looks up and down your body.

You bring your lips to his ear, “Consider yourself lucky cos a pretty girl is sitting on your lap like this,” you bite at the shell of his ear, “I wonder who you saved in your past life to be this lucky.”

Pyro closed his eyes, gripping your waist tightly, he grinds his crotch on you, a moan leaving your lips. “Yeah Baby, I’m lucky as hell. You dripping wet and ready for me, I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

You loved how the two of you can’t seem to get your hands off of each other; no matter how many times the two of you go at it, the intensity and hunger for each other grows each time.

Pyro latches his mouth onto your nipple, earning another moan from you, he flicks and gropes the other one with his hand as you hold onto him. He leaves love bites all over your chest, proud of his work.

“Pyro I can’t wear my tank tops ‘cause of you,” you whine but enjoy the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Just wear them, it’ll be hot.” He says into your skin. “Like me.”

He flips you over, your back on his bed, he trails kisses down to your hip bone, grazing his teeth, then trailing kisses down to your thighs. You close your eyes, gripping at the sheets, “Oh fuck you’re so wet babe,” he says, he licks a trail at your entrance, making you squirm under his touch. “Fuck John, if you don’t fuck me this instant I swear I’m gonna kick your ass!” You yell out, impatient at how he’s playing you.

His eyebrow twitches; he hated it when people called him John but with you it turns him on knowing that you only did that when you were sexually frustrated by him.

“All you had to do was ask,” he sneered, sticking a finger into your wet cunt.

“Fuck,” you gasp out, your back arching off of the bed.

“I need you, please,” you gasp out, “I can’t with foreplay right now, I want you inside me,” Pyro quickly discards his boxers, kicking them off to the floor. He makes his way to you, hovering over your naked body, his eyes glazed over with lust.

He parts your legs with his knees, you bite down on your bottom lip in anticipation, he always liked making you squirm under him. His eyes look down on you, his arm near your head, propping him up while his other hand is wrapped around his cock, giving it a few pumps before lining it against your entrance.

“You want me Babe?” He has his shit-eating grin plastered on his face; you knew how you looked under him; you knew how red your cheeks were, lips swollen, eyelids half-lidded, chest heaving; he had you right when he wanted you. “Please-” “Please what?” He rubs his tip against your wet folds, teasing you.

You knew he wanted you to beg for his cock, he wanted to hear you moan and whimper just for him. “I’m not begging, just be a good boy for me and give me what I want.” You whine, lifting your hips for any type of friction.

He lets go of his cock, his hand grabbing your hip, pushing your down. “Boy? What did you just call me?” His eyes grew dark, the pressure of his hold on your hip grew tighter, “Oh honey, I am not a boy,” He growls, slipping himself inside you with one forceful thrust. “Oh fuck,” you cry out, arching your back off of the bed.

“Yesyesyesyes!” you sigh out, Pyro grins at your reaction, quickening his thrusts. He shifts his weight and uses his elbow to hold himself up, both of your pelvises pressed against each other. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into a kiss; all tongue and teeth clashing, you needed to taste him.

It ends with him rolling off of you, lying down next to you as the two of you catch your breaths, his fingers slowly interlocks with yours. You think nothing of it but you can’t deny it quickens your heartbeat when he does.

He’s only done this recently. You don’t ask him why he does it and he doesn’t tell you why either. The two of you lie in silence (sans the heavy breathing) till you’re reasonably calm.

You begin to get up from the bed, wanting to go to the restroom because you needed to go (no uti’s for you). His grip on your hand pulls you back slightly, causing you to look at him. “Come back after?” he asks, his usual icy grey eyes soften at you.

You nod your head as you let go of his hand, quickly grabbing his shirt and boxers from the floor; ignoring the burning sensation in your thighs. You quickly dress in his clothing, scurrying to the bathroom. You finish your business and walk back into his room; he’s half dressed, barely, only in boxers as he fixes the pillows back to their original positions.

He’s changed the bed sheets; the old one stuffed into his hamper. You close the door and jump into his bed, loving the softness of his new blanket.

He lies next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist. You turn your body towards him, resting your head on his chest; this is normal, nothing’s changed. Can my heart stop beating so fucking fast?!

You’ve been lying to yourself for a while now; you’re terrified of commitment yet this is the longest relationship you’ve had with someone. You didn’t want feelings to mess up the thing you had with Pyro, it was good, you were happy.

The plan was foolproof; the two of you would stay best of friends, no feelings attached when the two of you fucked; just sexual frustrations poured over one (sometimes yours, so two) bed(s), no strings attached. Your relationship in bed is strictly in bed and your relationship as friends were out of the room.

But your heart decided to join the party and made you confused.

You caught yourself more times than you’d like to admit, daydreaming of going on dates with Pyro, hell, even holding his hand in public and it scared you. This was supposed to be fun and mess free and you suddenly find yourself tangled in your own emotions.

It didn’t help that when the two of you were in public, he’d hold you by your waist as if it were natural, or you’d be sitting on his lap during break, it’s like he needed to be touching you when the two of you weren’t grabbing each other in bed. It only occurred to you how much you needed to feel his presence recently and that scared you.

You didn’t want this; you didn’t want feelings, but here you are, in bed with the guy that you might have (maybe) feelings for. “Py,” you say, breaking the silence, he loved it when you called him the shitty nickname you gave him but he’d never admit that to your face.

“Yeah?” He asked, his eyes still glued to the ceiling.

“I think we should stop this whole thing,” You feel your cheeks heat up, cause i’m pretty sure i’m in fucking love with you and i don’t want to be. “Huh?” He says, surprised, he sits himself up on the headboard, his arm still wrapped around your waist.

You look up at him, meeting his gaze, his eyes a darker shade of grey.

“The whole ‘this’ I-I think we should stop.” You watch his reaction to your words, he furrows his brows in confusion, “Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong?” He asks and you immediately feel shitty,

“No, no! It’s not that, nothing like that. You-uh, you’re great-amazing even!” Oh fucking god I shouldn’t have said shit. “I just, I think we should just stop with that now, I mean- don’t you wanna do it with someone else?” You cringe at your words, you wanted to kick yourself in the ass for saying those words cause you don’t mean them at all.

“Do you?” He asks, his throat feeling tight, “Did you find someone else you wanted to fuck?” The last word cut into you, making you bite down on your lip.

“No, that’s not the point-Jesus- Pyro no, fuck, just forget it, forget it.” You turn your body away from his, closing your eyes. He slinks back down on the bed, this time pulling you closer, your back against his chest.

“Talk to me,” he says quietly, his voice void of any emotion.

Something inside you snaps and all you want to do is tell him everything; tell him that you’ve (probably) fallen for him and it eats at you. You broke the rule and all you wanted to do was run away.

You don’t reply and he doesn’t push any further; he was lost in his own thoughts, wondering if he did anything wrong.

Did she find out? He curses himself silently, am i that fucking obvious? He wonders if you noticed how needy he’s grown to have you near him, he wonders if you’ve noticed how he looks at you when you’re doing homework or cleaning, or doing absolutely fucking nothing, he wonders if you know that he’s head-over-heels for you and he wants to kick himself in the ass cause he broke the rule.

He was lying to himself the day the two of you decided this whole ordeal. He was being selfish and he wanted you for himself.

You didn’t want to feel this way; you didn’t want to ruin whatever it was that you had.

“Feelings ruin shit.” you mumble, loud enough for Pyro to hear.

“I think I fucking love you okay and- okay I lied, I don’t think I do, I probably do-like there’s a good chance I do and I’m sorry I broke the rule, god why am I still talking-” You were cut off by Pyro pulling you into his chest, hugging you tight.

“I love you too, fuck you scared me. I thought you didn’t want me around anymore.” He says, unable to control the smile that spread across his face.

You look at him, blinking the tears from your eyes (you didn’t even realise you were crying), he lets out a chuckle, wiping the tears from your face, “You baby,” He teases, and you swat his arm, and he laughs this time, hugging you tighter.

You melt into his touch, he presses a soft kiss on your forehead and your heart bursts cause this was one of the scenarios you’ve thought of and it’s so much better than you imagined, “I swear to god if you tell anyone this I’m gonna set you on fire,” and the magic is ruined. “That’s the Pyro I know, ruining moments like this.”

[dotster001]

Are you ok with writing alcohol related stuff? I think it would be funny to have a drunk headmaster complain to reader about all the work and mischievous students while reader tries to calm him down and just get him to drink water because fae apparently do not have a superior tolerance. OR on the opposite: reader gets drunk and Crowley has to deal with us now maybe we get him flustered too >:)

(hey nonnie I finally finished it. I seriously debated waiting until my birthday so I could be like, "the US government says I can drink now!" But luckily for both of us, I got hit with the inspiration bug. I hope it's everything you dreamed edit; I just realized I combined your two ideas into one...oops I went flustered crowman route)

Drugged Up Reader Addition from 300 Followers event

A/N: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

CW: excessive drinking, black out from drinking

Fae were known to hold their liquor extraordinarily well. A bottle? Three? Bah! That didn't matter at all to the fae! Besides, he deserved to treat himself after putting up with shenanigans all day.

Four bottles……

Yeah, so Crowley was on his sixth bottle of a 300 year old wine of excellent vintage, when fate decided it was time for you to come to his office. Naturally, as the cool, collected, fabulous headmage he was, all he had to do was play it cool, and you'd never know.

"Greetings Prefect! What can I do ya for?" Yep. You'd never know.

Had he been more sober, he would have noticed that you were soaking wet and covered in dust and plaster bits. But since he didn't notice, he was able to not notice this fact, as you sat across from him with a frustrated huff.

"The shower in Ramshackle exploded," you scowled. "Any chance, in all your generosity, that there is some budget for a new one?" 

"But of course!" He stood up, gesturing wildly. You couldn't hide your shock, which made him laugh, as he leaned over his desk to squish your face between his palms.

"My dearest, squishiest, prefect. Whatever you want, I shall give you!" 

Suddenly, you gasped. "Are you drunk?"

He let go of your face and scoffed, illustrating the six empty bottles on his desk.

"Nonsense, my dear, the fae don't get drunk. As you can see, I have only consumed ten bottles…"

"There's only six here, though," you interrupted, becoming nervous for his health.

"Ah! You're right! I still have four more bottles to consume! You must join me Y/N!"

"I don't think I should…."

He kept over his desk with surprising dexterity, and gently slotted himself in your lap, nuzzling his cheek against yours like a cat.

"C'mon Y/N, I'd hate to drink alone. I'd be sooooo lonely without you…like before…" his eyes were suddenly elsewhere, and he froze in your lap.

Then he started tearing up, crying into your collar.

"Please don't leave me, Y/N!" He sobbed.

You began running your hands through his hair worriedly, trying to calm him down.

"Do you mean, like right this moment, or in general?" You asked, mildly amused with yourself.

"Yes," he whimpered. You had no idea how the giant crow man was able to make himself look so small in your lap, but it was making your heart melt.

"Okay, I won't leave then," you said, hoping that it would calm him a little.

He looked up at you, suddenly no longer crying, eyes full of total adoration. 

"I love you Y/N. It's time you know that," he breathed, moving closer to your lips.

Then he blacked out.

                                ….

Crowley opened his eyes, and immediately shut them again with a groan. The lights in his room were too bright, and his head hurt, and….wait. He didn't remember going to his room last night.

"Ah, sleeping beauty has finally awoken," that was your voice, but what were you doing in his room?

He opened his eyes, and slowly sat up. You were sitting in a chair next to his bed, holding a book and, great sevens, wearing his clothes.

"Why are you here?" He asked cautiously.

"You blacked out on me, and I had to drag you to your room. You're surprisingly heavy, you know. Are you hiding muscles under all those layers?"

He scoffed, ready to tell you about how someone of his station had to stay in good shape, until he fully processed what you had said.

"How generous of you to bring me to my room," he croaked. "But why," he swallowed thickly, "why are you wearing a set of my clothes?" Not that he'd complain. They looked good on you.

You raised a single eyebrow. "My shower exploded, remember? My clothes were all wet and dirty, and I didn't want to ruin your furniture, so I kind of just grabbed something from your closet." Your grin turned downright evil. "Wait, do you not remember anything from last night?" 

You giggled. He loved that giggle, but right now he was filled with pure terror.

"I have an excellent memory, prefect," he scowled, trying to play it off. But it was clearly too late. You knew.

You stood up, and approached him. You squished his cheeks with your palms.

"So you remember this then?"

He loved your smile, but right now he wanted to wipe it off your face. You'd left him in his clothes, thank goodness, so you couldn't see his reddening cheeks under his mask. He'd never been more grateful for anything.

"Of course I remember," he said, composure disappearing fast.

"Then you remember this?" You crawled into his lap, and buried you face in his collar. He stiffened, afraid if he breathed you would disappear.

"Ye…yes."

"Okay," you grinned wickedly, "so you'll remember this then." You leaned into his ear and whispered, "I love you, Y/N." 

He was going to have what humans called a heart attack. Had he really said that last night? He'd kept it buried for so long….

"If you remember that, you'll definitely remember this," you leaned in as though to kiss him, but pulled away and left his lap at the last second. He involuntarily let out a whine, making you giggle. 

"And that's when you passed out."

He was on his feet in seconds pulling you tightly to him, directing your chin so you face him.

"Kiss me," he whispered breathlessly.

"That's not what happened," now that he was fighting back, you were starting to look flustered. Good. You deserved it.

"I'll give you whatever you want if you kiss me," he said, confidence steadily growing now that the ball was back in his court.

"Whatever I want? Hmmm…" you said thoughtfully, then leaned in to kiss him. He nibbled along your bottom lip, causing you to gasp, and allowing him to deepen the kiss. After several breathless moments, you pulled away from him entirely.

"Whatever I want," you muttered to yourself, and made to leave the room. As you pulled open the door, you called over your shoulder, "Fix my damned shower."

...

Tag list: @stygianoir

[lanaisdoe]

So this Throat thing CONFUSION ... ? The "i wanna choke you but also low-key kiss and eat and have you" kinda execution of this scene? wtf

^ let me just say when we were told there was choking, i was imagining it in a real "i wanna kill you" kinda way - UNTIL I actually SAW IT. . . and i'm more confused than before.

So we got THIS and uhm...... I mean, you DO NOT look exactly like this, if you ACTUALLY seriously wanna choke someone (also, he's only holding her throat/jaw with ONE hand, btw, the other one holding her close to him by her arm). You do not almost touch her forehead with yours in an intimate manner while trying to actually "choke her" at the same time, holding her close to you with your lips almost touching...

This scene CONFUSES the shit out of me, cuz if they wanted to make it him actually wanting to choke her, they failed big time, okay?! - i mean, not sure what Hess's direction was or what Matt Smith wanted to show there (or was it him trying to soften Hess's direction?!) but this looks more like Daemon kinda wants to devour/kiss/crush/or have her on the table near there or ALL of it at the same time ? like her wants to shake her until she remembers, WHO she is, who he is, and who THEY are,...

like... his lips are so close to hers, it's giving a weird confusing message: choking or kissing, loving or hating. (or it was just horribly directed/acted out, with actors/direction having different opinion on what it should be and this turned to be the compromise...?)

Y know this CHOKING scene is like a weird slightly more messed up version of THIS actually:

and then Daemon pushing her off him is kinda similar to him pushing her off him kinda violently back in the brothel when he was frustrated with himself and their overall situation (STILL, with him then proceeding to plead Viserys to let him marry Rhaenyra and repeating that if he could have anything, he wanted Rhaenyra, to take to wife, wed her in the tradition of their house etc. Right after he had violently pushed her off him and left her alone in brothel. (Doesn't remind you of this scene a bit, anyone?)

Again, we have kinda the same thing in ep 1x10 ... there was this kinda choking BS, Daemon frustrated with EVERYTHING, there's frustration and hurt that he was not trusted, not told of the prophecy, then it was probably him thinking Rhaenyra was further endangering them, their family, by refusing to act since he was super convinced of the inevitability of war and the greens wanting their necks (which Rhaenys had actually warned them was the case right at the beginning), and there was his helplessness and fear and frustration and inability to act and he was once again left out of an important family thing and he was like a lion in a cage and yeah well.... we got what we got but PLEASE, i don't think you can say he wanted to hurt her. Cuz if he did, then he also wanted to hurt her at the wedding in ep5 or in the brothel in ep4 which we know was not the case.... still, Daemon is unhinged when hurting and helpless.

Still, the next scene we get with them is our devastated loyal loving supporting husband Daemon coming to inform his love of his life wife of what'd happened... and she knows just by looking at him ONCE.

And there they are, standing TOGETHER, holding hands, by each other's side as they always have. So no guys? they DID NOT magically stop loving each other after one fight. Rhaenyra had witnessed several of the unhinged Daemon excesses so it was not much of a surprise to her... Also, as Viserys once said "Daemon, Rhaenyra, they share the blood of the dragon, they're restless, chaotic..."

So i do not think Daemon magically became an "abuser"... i think these have been his extreme impulses in his most critical on a verge kinda moments all throughout s1. But never once did he actually want to hurt her, mind you.

Still, 1x10 being his absolute most critical moment after all their losses + death all around them + greens after them, the fear of their end/downfall nearing, Rhaenyra reluctant to act, him depending on her word, further realizing his own helplessness... and yeah, we got THAT:

...still, i think they SHOULD HAVE MADE THAT SCENE a little less menacing, change the MUSIC-make it less creepy, and also make Daemon's pain a little more visible afterwards/during it, make him breakdown right there in front of her right after.... for example...... to make it all CLEAR.

But no . This had him look like a violent without reason bipolar madman. I really think Matt did all he could to soften it the way he knew Daemon would... cuz Matt Smith actually understands Daemon, unlike certain Sara Hess.

I still do hate this scene, it's definitely the strangest scene of 1x10 hands down, cuz it's confusing the shit out of me: the need for this scene to be included like this, as well as its general confusing unclear execution.

And I BLAME Sara Hess. Period.

[klausysworld]

Could you do a klaus one were reader had been super stress lately and has not have time for klaus so one day klaus forces her attention on him??

Do you love me too?

Klaus was quite used to being ignored, people weren’t overly pleased by his presence and he found it common for people to try and act as though he weren’t there altogether.

So when she started having no time for him it wasn’t too much of a bother. A little odd, lonely, but he could manage. She was a busy woman and he knew that, he didn’t have anything against her doing what she wanted for herself.

But she was never with him. He found that the bed was rather cold without her, he had too much room and had to snuggled up with the pillows instead. Sometimes he tried to come into the study to sit with her but she wouldn’t register his presence and he grew bored with her typing away in silence, her music only in her earphones so he couldn’t even hear it either.

He had made her a bath and managed to lure her in but she muttered something about not having enough time and so had a fast shower instead. He sat quietly in his room alone and upset.

He had always been lonely before and although he didn’t particularly like it, he was never opposed to it either, he could appreciate time to himself but this was excessive.

It didn’t take long for him to become sexually frustrated as well. Not being touched by her soft hands was becoming difficult. His own hand wasn’t cutting it anymore and he wasn’t sure what to do.

He’d tried everything. Kissing up her neck and leaving marks, slipping his fingers into her underwear to have her cum onto her seat, he even had his face pushing through her thighs to please her. And yet every time she gave near to no reaction. Often pushing him off of her and telling him she’d be with him later and yet she did not.

———————————————————————

Klaus sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the walk opposite. Footsteps brought his attention to the doorway as y/n came on in, grabbed something from the drawer and rushed back out. His heart hurt for a moment while he stood up and wondered into her study. She was typing with one hand and writing with the other. He glanced around the room seeing paper everywhere and cautiously made his way over.

“Hello?” he uttered almost unsure if he was allowed to talk. She hummed at him in response and he blinked at her quickly moving hands

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly

“Uhuh fine, you?” She questioned

“Yeah” he muttered his eyes saddening

“I think I’m going to bed” he mumbled getting up and heading towards the door. However just before leaving he caught sight of a plug. The twitch to her computer. He thought about how much work she had put into it and how angry she would be with him. He thought about the days he’d spent waiting for her attention.

He made a rash decision and flicked the switch watching as her hands froze in place and her body slumped.

“No no no” she whispered before turning to look at him with wide eyes

“Klaus…what did you do?” She asked calmly and he glanced to the plug

“You weren’t talking to me” he mumbled and her face grew hot

“I wasn’t talking to you so you erased my work?” She asked louder and harsher

“You wouldn’t look at me!” He yelled

“I was doing something important! Doesn’t that mean something!?”

“No! No you have to love me! You can’t pretend I’m not here” he shouted growing angrier with her lack of understanding for his emotions

“I know you’re here Klaus! You’re always here!”

“Because i love you!”

“Then why would do this?!” She asked desperately, now stood and gesturing to her computer

“Because i need something! I don’t care if you’re screaming and shouting at me as long as it’s at me!”

“You’re being childish!” She told him, her voice growing slightly higher as she yelled

“I am lonely!”

“You’re pathetic and desperate” her finger pointed at him, rage in her eyes before she realised what she had said, sadness washing over him in a way she hadn’t seen before. Her lips parted in shock as herself as she took a step towards him, her hands lowering. He stayed still as she wrapped her arms around his midsection

“Do you love me too?” He asked quietly still not reacting to her hug, the physical touch he had craved for too long.

“I love you much more than you know, I didn’t mean to neglect you, I’m sorry Niklaus” she told him, using his full name to make her point more clear. Slowly his arms circled her too and he basked in her warmth.

His body tingling from how she was pressed up against him. Her grip on him was tight as she kissed his neck lightly in a display of affection. As soon as her lips were on his skin blood was rushing through his body, heading straight between his legs where he had needed her most the past few days. She felt him harden against her as he inhaled her scent and pulled her as close as possible. She couldn’t remember the last time they had touched each other intimately, her hands squeezed the fabric of his top at the idea.

“You still want to go to bed?” She asked as her head tilted slightly and her body leaned away to look at him. His head nodded eagerly and followed her to their room. Once inside he was already on top of her. Lips on hers in a frenzy as his body weighed hers down into the bed. His hips ground to hers once her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands pulled at the baby hairs on the back of his neck making him groan and suck at her bottom lip harder.

His hands tugged and tore as her clothes as he kicked his pants off, under different conditions she may have laughed at his eagerness but not when it was her fault for his desperation. He felt her pull the duvet up and over them, the heat of their bodies trapped underneath with them. The warmth he had longed for.

His eyes fell to her beautifully carved body. His hands running over her skin repeatedly, fingers pinching at her nipples as he listened to her gasp. His dick almost hurt with want as he took her in, her hand grabbed ahold of his cock making him look to her eyes quickly

“You don’t need to warm me up Nik, just do what you need to” she told him, he hesitated but nodded as she guided him to her entrance.

The first thrust was slow and savoured, his head resting against her shoulder with his eyes closed and mouth open as he sighed, her soft moan of encouragement reaching his ears. However each one after that grew quicker and rougher every time. The unexpectancy of it had her nails digging into his back, the distance between her moans shortening as his movements managed to shake their bed. His cock bigger than she remembered it to be as it abused her cunt relentlessly.

He didn’t slow or falter for a second as he came inside her for the first time. He was unable to wait longer, having waited for far too long to be inside her. He made little to no sound has he fucked into her, his eyes held something almost feral as they shone over solid gold, blackness surrounding his irises.

His face was inches from hers, their panting echoing off eachother while she tightened around him and dragged her nails through his skin, blood appears behind. He grunted in response and his hips snapped faster. Their bodies grew hot, a thin layer of sweat coating them due to the duvet trapping them together. Her back arched, her breasts pressing to his chest while you whimpered his name like a prayer.

His mouth opened unknowingly as his eyes dropped shut, her soft little cunt squeezing him beyond relief. His dick found that special spot inside her, hurriedly pounding against it to have her yelling and crying for him. He loved how fucking pathetic she sounded, how could she call him desperate when she was the one screaming like a pornstar?

Her toes curled as her hands clawed at his back, she hadn’t realised how much she needed this until now. That euphoric feeling building up inside her as she focused on the pleasure he was giving her. She tightened around him again and again, her body lurched forward, her face buried into his neck and her blunt teeth bit down as she came harder than ever before around him, her cries muffled as she triggered another orgasm from him, the bed effectively breaking as he gave long hard thrusts towards his end. The leg of the bed collapsing making her laugh breathily as they both shifted down wards.

His lips caught hers a few times as he slid out of her, his hands pulling her up and into his lap, the covers falling down around them while his tongue danced with hers and she moaned in his mouth. His hands in her hair, combing and pulling, her hands held his face as she melted to him.

His forehead leant to hers, both their eyes closed as they kissed a few more times before they just stayed in the near silence, only their own breathing sounding through the room.

[acowardinmordor]

Flip the Board - pt 3

Part One - Part Two

This is going to have to migrate to Ao3. I'm incapable of keeping things short. I'll try to catch everyone in tags when I post part four, which will flip this to posting by chapter, rather than by scene.

----

Eddie didn’t skip as he rushed out the side door of the school, headed for the parking lot, but it was close to it. Dustin was standing with his back to the school, next to the van, imitating Harrington’s frustrated mom pose, with a lunchbox hanging from his left hand, and his backpack over his shoulders. Max was leaning against the van, while Lucas argued, and Mike glowered. 

Good progress, but they needed to get moving and were two party members shy of a successful departure.

Eddie hurried over, clapping to bleed off the excess energy, then flung open the door. Ignoring the random stuttered confusion, he snagged his supply and shoved it under the driver’s seat, then reached for bags and whatever else they had on them. 

“What the hell?” Max asked as he yanked the skateboard out of her hands.

“Chill, Red, I’m not stealing your board, you’re coming too.”

“No, really, what the hell?” Lucas added. 

“Shh, Sinclair. Hold your questions til the end of class. Dustin, you’re three for five. Did they not want to skip out? I don’t care. They have to. Do I need to go back for them? Come on. Chop chop. Where’s Robin and Wheeler?”

“I’m right here?”

“Wheeler the Elder,” Eddie amended with a flap of his hand, “You, Sir Michaelmas, are already accounted for.”

“Okay, Dustin, what shit is this?!” Mike snapped. He turned to face off with Dustin, and Lucas turned with him. “You said this was Code Red.”

Dustin was his favorite. 

Kid didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate, didn’t even glance at Eddie for confirmation. Which was one hell of a thing since it was Dustin, who can, did, and would question everything he encountered -- all at the top of his lungs. It wasn’t like Eddie took the time to explain a damn thing after telling him to get the others. Yeah, Dustin tried to ask something after Eddie told him to get the others, but lunch was ending and step one had to start immediately, so Eddie sprinted out of the theater and trusted that Dustin would listen. 

“It IS a Code Red.”

“How the hell would he even know to say that? He probably just overheard you talking about something and thought it would be a good joke.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Dustin insisted. “This is real. He knows something, and it’s serious.”

“Nancy graduated last year, but we’re supposed to think this is real?” Lucas said.

Oh shit. 

“Just because he doesn’t know everything doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Steve gets things wrong all the time and we still listen to him!”

Maybe this meant that the vision thing wasn’t real. Eddie scrambled backwards in his head, trying to figure out if he knew that or not. He saw her around all the time. Around the school all the time. She was in Hawkins during spring break. 

Whoops? 

Apocalypse canceled?

Oh wait. 

No. Dammit. 

He remembered this. He already knew this. Wheeler mentioned it after a couple campaign sessions. Damn. So much for hope. For a second he thought he hadn’t received some insane prophetic revelation.

“She’s working for the paper right?” Eddie interrupted before Mike could yell. “I knew that, sort of. A bit. I knew she was in Hawkins. That counts. It isn’t relevant to this. Got confused. Don’t complain, Wheeler junior, would you rather I know everything your sister does? I know you hate it when Steve talks to her, would you rather it was me?”

Mike’s eyeroll was the most ridiculous, but Lucas and Max joined in. 

Dustin was officially Eddie’s only child now; steadfast little shithead.

Eddie clapped again. 

“Right! Dustin! Where are the other two?”

“Okay. I told the others.” Dustin scowled a promise that all this good behavior was going to be repaid with the mother of all favors, but he answered, “Robin wasn’t sure when Steve finished his shift. She only knew it was before class ended today. She went to call him and see if Nancy was in the newspaper office. She’s either gonna show up with Nancy in a minute, or she’s going to be out here to let us know where Steve and Nancy are.

“And,” he continued, “The rest of Hellfire is pissed at you. Gareth said he was going to plan a coup for Hellfire and for Corroded Coffin. I am being very patient right now. It is taking everything I have to sound This Calm, but, Eddie, Dude, you need to start answering questions before I think you’re a Russian spy.”

Eddie blinked. 

“Uh.” Blinked again. “What do Russian spies have to do with demo-monsters and the Upside Down?” The kids all jumped when he said that name. He waved his hand, clearing it like a bad smell. “Dammit. Okay. Never mind, gotta learn about the communist infiltration later. Mayfield?”

“What now, Munson?”

“Don’t with that tone, Red. You have your walkman with you? Put it on. Kate Bush. Running Up that Hill. It’s your favorite song. Keep rewinding and listening until we can make you a loop tape.”

“What the hell?”

“Just put the headphones on.”

“Why should I listen to some dipshit who didn’t even know about the Russians?”

“Because you’re in trouble. The life-in-danger kind of trouble. Not the ‘you’re grounded’ kind.”

She snorted. For a second, Eddie saw how the others hadn’t noticed. She was good at fronting, if he hadn’t seen her before, he would believe it. 

“Have you been having headaches? Have you been having awful nightmares and thinking you’re hearing things and been thinking about how maybe it would be easier if--” He stopped before he outed any secrets. She heard what he didn’t say, and the suddenly serious look on her face was confirmation. “Just do it. It’ll keep you safe.”

Lucas had her walkman out already, skipping past the need to understand and lunging for her bag the second Eddie persuaded him. Good. That was good. Lucas would be good at this, and if he stuck with her, that was better odds on saving a second one. Their plan, using her, using a kid as bait for the interdimensional hell wizard was bullshit, and he wasn’t doing that again. No fucking way.

He knew the bats dropped, but he also knew the ground shook and there was a noise like the world tore apart right at the end. 

That was the last shot of the movie that arrived in his brain half an hour ago. A sound like the world screaming, louder than Dustin’s yelling, and then; a cafeteria. 

Maybe Max and the others pulled it off. Maybe they didn’t. He wasn’t gambling on this stuff.

“Eddie.”

“Dustin.”

“Are you going to explain stuff? Cause I’m trusting you right now, but even if I was okay not knowing what the hell, and I’m not, and you know that, even if I was going to be okay with it, no one else is going to be.”

“Yeah. You don’t know about this stuff,” Mike added. 

“I didn’t,” Eddie tossed back, stressing the past tense.

“And you learned about all of this while standing on a table in the middle of the cafeteria?”

For once, Nancy Wheeler’s ability to instantly override any conversation she entered was a blessing. Eddie didn’t know how to answer Mike’s question except with a plain ‘yes’ which would do exactly nothing to clarify any of this.

“Munson, if this is some kind of a joke, I will personally ensure that you do not graduate,” she announced as she joined them, deadly serious. “You have no idea how serious this is, and you can’t decide to use it as a prank the day before Spring Break because you think it’ll be funny.”

Eddie turned and smiled, “Ms Nancy Wheeler, you’re looking as delightfully felonious as ever.”

“Munson.”

“Not a joke,” he cut her off. “Robin, where’s Steve right now?”

“Well he was at Family Video, but I called and told him Dustin called Code Red, and I think he tried to spontaneously teleport to the school to help before I finished the sentence. Luckily he smacked into the edge of the counter, so he stopped to listen for a sec, so I told him to go home and we’d meet him there. But that was a couple minutes ago, so he’s probably breaking driving laws and freaking out right now. By the time we get there, he’s going to be at least half as freaked out as I am right now.”

“What is going on?” Nancy hissed.

“Normal Hawkins shit, apparently,” Eddie said, “It’s the end of the world and I know what’s coming.”

“Bullshit. This isn’t a joke. I don’t know how you found out about any of this, but this isn’t one of your games!” 

The fizz of victorious energy he floated on tempered by a few points. Eddie heard the sharp edge of Nancy’s voice, and held it up against the fear as she described Vecna’s plan. There were similarities. She didn’t believe him yet, but she believed it was possible. 

The others continued bickering while he and Nancy squared off. 

“He isn’t joking,” Dustin repeated stubbornly.

“Oh, so our DM suddenly knows about the Upside Down and we’re just supposed to trust he isn’t making it a story?” Mike yelled.

“It’s Eddie! Of course we trust him!”

“Well,” Robin dragged out the word, “some proof would be nice.” 

“You want proof that I’m not joking, Nancy?” Eddie hummed a little, and kept his focus on her. Goddamn, at least this bullshit was giving him some top shelf opportunities for dramatics. He waited until the quiet got a tiny bit tense, then quietly, simply, said, “In 1983, your shoe boxes were full of shoes. Now they’re full of guns. Pick them up on the way to Harrington’s, would you? All of them.”

“What.” Her face froze, blank.

He had more things he could say, but if he could convince Nancy, he figured the kids would shut up until they got everyone in one place. She was scary enough to buy him a little more time.

“Am I wrong?”

“How do you know that?”

“Told you. End of the world and I know what’s coming.” 

She nodded once, cautious and serious.

Eddie clapped his hands loudly to break the mood, and turned back to the gremlins. “Max, Lucas, Robin, you’re with me. Dustin, Mike, go with Nancy. ”

“No, get back here, Munson, how do you know that? How do you know any of this?”

“Yeah, sorry, I would, but we’re on the clock. I’m not gonna waste time doing this song and dance twice aaaaaaaand, tragically, for me, but excellent news for Henderson; I need Harrington.”

[misslavenderlady]

A Little Bit Country, A Little Bit Rock ‘N Roll - Chapter 12

Summary: David and Michael are opening their hearts to one another and sharing some rather deep feelings they're both struggling with. Meanwhile, other members of the Emerson family are focused on something far more sinister.

TW: Chapter contains mentions of abuse and vampire hunting

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

“I know.”  

It was such a simple response, but enough to make quite a surprise.  

David was dumbfounded by Michael’s response. He didn’t know what to expect with the sudden shift in tone with his date, but this certainly wasn’t something that had crossed his mind. He was going through endless ideas of what to say. How to explain his behavior and panic from such a small touch.   

Meanwhile, Michael was simply looking back at him with gentleness in his eyes. Like he understood everything, even without hearing a single word.   

“What?” David asked.  

“I said ‘I know’, David,” Michael responded. He softly smiled as he leaned forward in order to take David’s hand in his. Michael’s fingers were calloused from years of hard work on the farm and strumming his steel-string guitar. And yet, it brought David far more comfort than any soft fabric imaginable.   

“I’m sorry I didn’t say somethin’ before, but I...may have overheard some stuff a while back...”  

David’s fear of the truth began to wash away as a sense of confusion took its place. It couldn’t be possible that Michael knew what he was, but part of him wanted to see if he did know some of the truth. After all, the human boy was as sharp as a tack.   

“Really?”  

“Remember the night I came by and gave ya back your guitar?”   

The vampire nodded. It was painful to relive the memory of the earlier parts of that night. Before Michael had come along to see him, his body had burned with the sharp pain that was left behind by Max’s claws. He couldn’t even use human medicine because it wouldn’t work. Only excessive amounts of blood would heal him, and even then, it was a terribly slow recovery process.   

Having Michael by his side was the only thing that had made him feel better.   

“Well....I overheard the boys talkin’....” he admitted. “And they mentioned Max....hurtin’ ya real bad...”  

David’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. That certainly was part of what had happened between the Sire and Childe. His curiosity grew stronger as to what Michael knew.  

“They said how you’re his own blood and that he’s been doin’ this for a while now! That he would hurt the others if they stepped outta line. I was scared to death for y’all...”  

The more Michael shared details of what he had overheard from the others, the more David wondered if he truly was close to finding out the truth of the vampirism he and the other Lost Boys had. It was so obvious to him, but to Michael, it was more akin to a case of domestic violence.   

“That’s....um....what you heard?” David pondered, wondering if there was even the slightest hint that the final piece of the puzzle would be put into place.   

“Yeah. I know they lied about you gettin’ into a fight with a surf nazi. They didn’t want to share somethin’ ya didn’t want me to know about. But don’t be fooled! I ain’t no bonehead. I know good and well when my kin are in a heap of trouble!”  

To his own surprise, David was actually disappointed that Michael hadn’t learned the whole story. It was so frustrating, going back and forth between wanting to come clean about what kind of creatures they all were and wanting to keep it a secret so that there was zero risk of their new relationship being ruined.   

It certainly didn’t help that Max was still messing with his head. Everything would be so much easier without the bastard around.   

“That’s why I....well....I ruined his party down at the country club..”  

David perked up even more.  

“What?”  

“Ya promise you won’t get upset?”   

The mere idea of getting mad at the human boy didn’t even sound right to David. He didn’t think it was even possible to feel such a way. He nodded, letting Michael speak.  

“I wanted to take away any power he had over you. Knock him down a peg or two so he’d see he’s nothin’ but a big bully who can’t get away with that kinda treatment. I didn’t wanna go directly to him and risk him doin’ worse to ya, but my mama and I figured if we kill ‘em with kindness and southern hospitality, then he wouldn’t be all high and mighty.”  

David had to admit, he was impressed by Michael’s dedication. He knew some kind of elaborate planning had to go into getting all of those guests to overtake the party, but he never realized it had all been for him. That Michael was willing to take down Max in order to make David feel happier and safer.  

It was....the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. Standing up to someone like Max. It made his heart swell with a long-forgotten sense of kindness.   

“You...wow, I can’t believe you did all that....for me.”  

“David, I’d do anythin’ for you.”  

Michael released the vampire’s hand in order to place them on either side of his face. David’s muscles relaxed, enjoying the sensation of warmth on his icy skin. It was such a gentle touch.   

“Gettin’ to know you and have you an’ the others be a part of my family...it’s made me the luckiest fella alive. I want to keep ya safe. Keep ya happy. You deserve better than a dad who hurts you.”  

David softly smiled before leaning in to kiss Michael again. Before meeting Michael, he could never imagine being so vulnerable and honest. To not put up walls and act like the mighty vampire that he wanted to prove he could be. But Michael accepted everything about him. Wanted to do everything he could as a friend and as a partner.   

He couldn’t deny it wasn’t a little scary. Dangerous things had already happened to him with Max. The idea of such pain ruining Michael and the rest of the Emersons terrified him. This was all going so well so far. He couldn’t ruin this. He WOULDN’T ruin this.  

“Michael,” he whispered, breaking free from their kiss for only a moment. “Let me be the one to worry about you. Let me take care of you. After everything you’ve done, it’s my turn now. You trust me to do that, don’t you?”  

Michael could feel a sense of sadness in David’s voice. All that confidence the blond put on for show was something he could see through. But he wouldn’t let the secret out. He’d let David do whatever he needed to do to feel safe.   

“Of course, I do, Huckleberry.”  

“Then let’s just enjoy things how they are now. Don’t worry about Max. He can’t really hurt me when I’m with you,” David promised.   

The two boys stayed in their embrace. It was quite a whirlwind of emotions for a first date. David was trying to protect Michael from the truth about Max and Michael in turn was going to protect David from being hurt further.   

But at that moment, neither of them minded that. There was a bond between the human and the vampire, and all they wanted more than anything in the world was to let this new sense of romance grow. Just the two of them and the beautiful night above.   

Nothing else would matter.  

“So, what did your brother say?”   

“Oh hell, he’s wound tighter than an eight-day clock! He ain’t gonna listen to a word I say!”  

Though Sam had tried his hardest to hide the thick, southern accent ever since moving to California, he had a habit of letting it slip when he was flustered. That certainly was the case as he and the Frog brothers shared theories about vampires in the dead of night.  

The three of them were at the Frog household, sleeping bags and pillows scattered over the living room floor to act as the main setup for their sleepover. Edgar and Alan's parents were out late yet again, no doubt eating laced brownies and dancing at a beach concert. The boys didn't really mind though. It allowed more privacy to talk about their theories.  

"Of course, he wouldn't listen," Edgar responded to Sam between sips of Pepsi. "His judgment is clouded by his love for the Billy Idol look alike. We can't let that kind of shit get in the middle of serious matters like this." 

"Can ya blame the guy? Ever since the move, he's been real blue. Heart was achin' for some company."  

That was a surprise to the Frogs, as they had only seen the side of Michael that was always smiling wide and crooning country songs during work hours on the farm. He didn't really strike them as the homesick type.  

But Sam knew better. He knew his brother good and well. The older boy hid his heartsick feelings so he could be strong for the family. The "man of the house" to take their neglectful father's place. Michael was more of a parent to Sam after all. A good role model who could balance work and play.  

"Yeah, but there's a good chance that if he's a vampire, so is David," Alan pointed out. "We have to be prepared if that's the case. Children of vampires are quite loyal to their dark masters." 

"If I didn't see that silver burn for myself, I'd think y'all were nuttier than a fruitcake," Sam teased. He tossed a piece of popcorn into his mouth to chew in between his snickering.  

The Frogs weren't laughing though. To them, this was all as serious as a heart attack. It made the Emerson boys' giggling quiet down.  

"Anyway….whatcha reckon we do 'bout it?"  

"Simple. We run more tests of Max. If he fails any of them, then we've got a nosferatu on our hands. Everything we need to do can be found right here." 

Edgar reached under one of the old, ratty blankets to reveal a long, rolled-up piece of paper he had been hiding away. He unraveled it onto the carpet, letting Sam get a clear look at it. The paper was covered with various pieces of comic book material. Pictures of vampires, descriptions of the powers they had, and advice printed on how to hunt them down.  

Edgar and Alan had taken the liberty of marking the entire thing with red lines, connecting important information together. It was like looking at a war plan made by a general.  

"Sam, you've got a good, fighting spirit in you. With all that work you do, we trust your ability to take down some foes. If we train you properly, then we'd be an unstoppable force against those bloodsuckers." 

Though Sam had his worries and doubts about what would happen to David if the test came back positive about his father being a vampire, he couldn't let his emotions get the better of him.  

His brother could be in danger, and he had to step up and take care of his family. Michael had done so for a long time now. It was time to pass on the torch and be the one to look after everyone. A vampire was nothing to take lightly.  

"Let's get to work, fellas." 

A night like this couldn't have been any more perfect. A clear sky, a light breeze in the summer air, and the quietness that came with being at the top of a hill all made for the perfect backdrop for the budding romance.  

David and Michael hadn't paid attention to the time at all. After their little heart-to-heart earlier in the night, they had simply enjoyed their time together. The boys talked for hours and hours, sharing stories and conversations with one another.  

They felt comfortable enough with each other that they would snuggle up, trading kisses between the moments when they gazed up at the stars in the sky. Their fingers were constantly entwined, human heat and vampire coldness canceling each other out while they held hands.  

It was a rare moment of peace for the both of them. Michael was always so reckless and wild during the times when he wasn't hard at work. He switched between those two settings quite often, but it was nice to change it up in favor of just being in the moment. For David, he shared the same joy of running wild, but to a more extreme extent with his vampiric nature. That, and he had finally gotten his mind off of his Sire for a while. All he wanted was to enjoy the night with Michael.  

Though perhaps he had enjoyed it a little too much.  

The two boys were lying back on the grass, their coats being used as makeshift blankets to relax on. As time went by, the two of them got a bit more drowsy. The sense of peace was enough to eventually lull them both into a nap.  

David was aching to stay like this. Just rest with Michael by his side. But dawn was approaching, and if he wasn't careful, he wouldn't get to the cave in time.  

"Michael?" he whispered, nudging the boy. Instead of an answer, he got a soft groan as Michael nuzzled further into his shoulder.  

That settled it. He was going to have to do this the sneaky way.  

Doing his best not to disturb the sleeping human, David pulled himself off the ground and lifted Michael up into his arms. It was perfectly easy to do considering he could bend steel bars without breaking a sweat. The tricky part was getting the horses to follow him back down the trail. He’d never tried his power of persuasion on animals before, but it couldn’t hurt to try.  

“Help me get Michael home, you guys,” David spoke to the horses, his eyes flashing gold. 

Thankfully, it seemed to work in his favor, as Bambi and Bo trotted over, obediently following the vampire as he moved down the path. Part of David wondered if his powers weren’t doing anything at all and that they were just following Michael like they usually did. Either way, at least they were getting home safe and sound. 

With every passing moment, the sun was threatening to show up. David wasted no time ushering the horses back into their stables just as he’d seen Michael do a hundred times at this point. When the animals were secure, he made his way into the house, taking a shortcut by flying up to Michael’s open window and slipping inside with the boy in tow.  

By some miracle, Michael was still snoozing away, his hat tilted down over his eyes. His breathing was slow as he dreamed away. 

“Didn’t realize you were this tired, cowboy,” David chuckled, amused at how Michael stayed so still. Thankfully, he stayed that way as the vampire helped get him into bed. He slipped off the boy’s boots and hat, setting them to the side so Michael could get comfortable. To his surprise, it was the sensation of him settling into bed that actually made Michael stir.  

“Mmm....stay with me....darlin....” 

It was a good thing David’s heart had long since stopped beating because it surely would have melted. Hearing Michael call him that sweet name in his sleepy drawl was swoon-worthy. It had David chuckling softly as his face grew warm.  

“Shhh...I’ll be back again soon,” he whispered, his voice twisting as he drew Michael back into the warm embrace of slumber. “Rest, beloved.” 

It had been decades since the last time David heard such a pet name being used. But he wanted something special for Michael. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so happy, and Michael deserved to know how much he meant to the vampire. Over a century of life had already been experienced by David, but it felt like a whole new adventure was beginning. It could be truly beautiful.  

David planned on disappearing into what was left of the night. The last few minutes of darkness would cover him as he flew home. Just like Michael, he would dream so peacefully.  

The only flaw in the plan was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs as he snuck out of Michael’s room. 

“Good morning, David.” 

He froze in his tracks, eyes going wide at the sight of an old man with a scruffy beard, dark blue headband, and an old robe tied around his waist looking up right at him.  

Grandpa Emerson.  

“Oh! Mornin’, sir,” David greeted. “Sorry, I was just saying goodbye to Michael. Gotta head home now.” 

He would have to leave on foot for now, lest he wanted to draw any suspicion. That plan was crushed the moment the old man reached out his arm and pressed his hand against the end of the banister, blocking off David’s only exit.  

“Why don’t you stick around for breakfast, sonny? Get a little fuel for the road.” 

David’s stomach churned. Time was running out, and now Mr. Emerson wanted to play host. What was with this family and insisting you stay all the time?? 

“I'd love to, but I’m kinda in a rush.” 

He still didn’t budge. The grandfatherly man wasn’t looking so warm and fuzzy right now. He was serious with a sense of focus in his eyes. Like he could tell David was up to something. The blond didn’t want to believe he knew something, but then the old man decided to drop a bomb on him. 

“What’s the matter? Are ya ‘fraid of burnin’ in that sunlight?” 

He had to be bluffing. Just joking around. There was no way he knew. David opened his mouth to speak again, but a hand was held up, silencing him before he could even get a single word out.  

“I think it’s about time we had ourselves a talk. Man to man. After all, you are dating my grandson now.....and I never thought my own flesh and blood would be with one of the monsters I used to hunt back in the day. But you know all about blood, don’t you?” 

David’s veins ran cold. Grandpa smiled right in his face. A smug little “gotcha”. 

“Oh yes, David. I know.” 

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[valvesandthings]

Can you maybe do one where the reader is fragging Magnus in his office but then Rodimus calls and immediately knows what’s up and asks for details just to annoy Magnus. And the reader plays along because they think it would be funny so they say something like „he’s bend over the table“ and so on all while mags is failing miserably to deny anything and everything that is being said because he keeps moaning.

Sorry for the excessively long wait on this.

It was a rare treat, to catch Ultra Magnus so off guard, and you were beyond thrilled when you managed to trap him alone in his office. A bit of the loving manhandling that he liked, and it wasn’t difficult to get him bent over the desk, moaning for your spike. 

    You massaged Magnus’ sides as you rubbed your spike through the mess of his valve. He propped himself up on his elbows but when you slammed home, he bleated and scrambled for a proper hold on the edge of the desk. You grinned and used his lovely huge hips as handles to yank him back as you thrust forward. The scrape, scrape of his frame dragging back and forth on his once tidy desk wasn’t even loud enough to drown out the messy sounds of your joining. 

    You bent over and snagged one of Ultra Magnus’ finials, tugging it back sharply. Your name escaped him on a whisky breath, and was followed by a low, needy whine. 

    “You’re so wet for me,” you purred into his audial, “like you’ve been thinking about this all day. You dirty, dirty mech.”

    Magnus’ back arched and he moaned through his clenched teeth. 

    Ringing erupted in the room. You both froze until you realized it was the phone. Ultra Magnus groaned, frustrated, but you resumed your brutal pace. Before Magnus could object, you reached around him and answered the call, on speaker. 

    “N-no!” Magnus stuttered, but it was already too late. 

    “Hey, Mags, you still in the office?” Rodimus’ voice filled the room, but he wasn’t quite loud enough to hide the clanging from your thrusts. 

    Magnus opened his mouth to try and answer, but all that came out was an all too obvious moan. 

    “Magnus is a bit busy at the moment,” you answered. You hilted your spike deep inside his fluttering valve and circled your hips, grinding against the sweet spot in the back of his valve. “Can I take a message?”

    Rodimus hummed. “No surprise, he’s always doing something.” His voice had dropped a decimal and had turned borderline sultry. “Is he at his desk?”

    Magnus shook his helm furiously because if he opened his mouth he’d just give himself away even more. But you thrust once, a hard snap of your hips, and he spat static. 

    “He’s bent over it,” you rumbled, all too happy to take this opportunity to tease your lover. “Taking my spike like a champ, aren’t you Magnus?”

    “N-not at a-mph.” Magnus hung his helm and panted as you resumed your punishing pace, striking his ceiling node every time. “Rodimus,” he whined.

    You chuckled and yanked back on Magnus’ audial, forcing him to look at you. “I think he wants your help, Rodimus,” you teased, “it seems his mouth is missing you.”

    “Oh yeah?” Rodimus practically purred. “Should I come and keep you two company?”

    Magnus tried to speak again but he was so far gone that nothing but moans and high pitched whines for more escaped. 

    You groaned and slowed down, fighting the burning, throbbing need to overload. “I don’t think he’ll be able to wait that long,” you said. “You’d better hurry.”

    “Wait, really?” Rodimus asked, all sexiness gone from his voice. 

    You hummed. “Come help me stuff our dear Magnus.”

    “Shit, give me two minutes!” And the line went dead.

    You thrust lazily into Magnus. “I think I’ll let him take your mouth first,” you said, and Magnus moaned wildly as he overloaded. His valve clenched around you so tight and he cried out your name, pressing his hips back against yours, begging for more.