#even if you only smoke when he's bummed one off you or passed you his

[landwriter]

Please, please tell me something about Untitled 1!

(By which I mean, of course, please share something you’re excited about)

excited about this Hob realization in 70s SF AU:

Hob grows quiet and starts unpicking a seam on his jacket, so he fishes out his cigarettes and offers the box. Hob takes one gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

---

“Anyways. Probably for the better. Doubt he wanted a queer or a poet for a son. Only other way I’ve really taken after him is smoking. Started two years after he died, same brand I remembered seeing in his truck. Lucky Strikes, like you. It’s where he had to smoke. Mom wouldn’t let him do it inside. Calls it a nasty habit.” Hob snorts. “’Least she used better words when she found out I was gay. I think she secretly hopes I’ll quit both. Send her a postcard one of these days: ‘Hi ma, San Francisco is great. I’m all finished with smoking and men. Still a poet, sad to say, but I don’t associate with the hippies here. Doesn’t the Golden Gate Bridge look lovely in this photo? Send my love to everyone.’”

Dream laughs. Hob beams, nudges his shoulder into him. “So. What about yours?”

---

“Why not?” He fumbles out a cigarette, lights it. He’ll play Dream’s mystery man for him. “C’mon, huh?” He takes a shaky drag. “Why not? Why don’t you take something from me, then, and we’ll call it even?”

Dream stares unblinking at him for a moment and then sets his beer down on the table with a sudden clatter. Shit, maybe he’ll deck me, he thinks, if I’m lucky.

Instead, Dream reaches out and pulls the cigarette from his lips and puts it between his own. Hob sways forward after it. Dream takes a long drag and tilts his head back to blow the smoke past Hob. His throat is pale. Like the fucking moon. His eyes haven’t left Hob’s. Sharp wet seaglass. Fuck, fuck, fuck, thinks Hob. Dream stubs out the cigarette and leans forward. He never smokes. He always has cigarettes, and he never smokes. His voice is rough from it. “Like that?”

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 3•\

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

You and Johnny smoke weed.

#

Morning dawns too early for your tired eyes. Whether you have slept at all or only dozed, you can’t say. More than half the night was spent grappling with the crippling regret of having gotten off to the aftermath of your gay roommates having sex. By the time the sun is rising on your shame, you can hear the sound of someone out in the kitchen making coffee. 

Which begs the second question. How are you meant to face them after hearing what you did? Just remembering it makes your skin go hot. When you can avoid it no longer—when the smell of Folger’s is slipping beneath the crack of your bedroom door—you slip into the bathroom and splash cool water on your face. 

Your hand is on your doorknob when you remember what you’re wearing: a ratty old tank top and panties. In your old apartment, you wouldn’t have thought twice about walking around in the public space like this—but that was before. Rushing to a box, you dig through and find a pair of shorts to tug on, slipping on a shirt over your tank top while you’re at it, hoping it disguises your lack of a bra. 

Johnny is not nearly so shy. Standing by the coffee pop leaning heavily against the countertop while he scrolls on his phone, he wears nothing but a low-resting, loose pair of sweatpants. All the saliva in your mouth dries up at the sight when his head snaps up at the sound of your door. He grins at you. 

“Morning, lass. Sleep well?” 

“Great,” you lie. “I was so tired I passed out.” 

“Me too,” teases Johnny. “All the work I wasn’t allowed to do really knackered me. Coffee? There’s tea too, but I never got the taste for it like Ghost did. Simon, I mean.”

“Coffee would be great.” 

He leans up and God. For all the jokes he made last night about having a ‘bum leg’ there’s nothing else bum about his body: he’s cut, all tanned skin pulled taut over soft muscle, the terrain of his body broken up here or there by the odd scar. He has a smattering of dark hair on his chest that thickens below his navel where it trails downwards, bordered on either side by his Adonis belt. 

On his neck—more like his collarbone—there is a livid lovebite. You can still see the impression of teeth, even across the room, pretty purples and fresh reds and it makes all the blood rush to your cunt until every stumbling step you take to the kitchen emphasizes your sensitivity. 

You take the mug from Johnny trying to meet his eyes and not the hickey on his neck. You mutter: “Thanks.”

“I cook too. Regular little housewife, I am.”

A housewife perhaps, but one to Simon. Too guilty to let him cook for you, you end up elbow to elbow with him while you both cook together. You glance towards their bedroom door once or twice when Johnny grows too boisterous, sure that soon he would wake Simon. 

But both your plates are clear without a sign of the larger man. After doing your share of the dishes, you dress properly, prepared to spend the day running necessary errands for the new apartments, including buying your own share of groceries. 

With Johnny’s Be safe, hen still ringing in your ears, you slip into the elevators and—nearly bump straight into Simon. He’s dressed for running, sweat glistening on his pale arms. He had just tugged his mask down past his chin. His mouth quirks into the semblance of a smile, tugging at a little scar on his lip—

—lips that left that mark on Johnny. Suddenly you are stammering, stepping aside out of Simon’s way, greeting him with more awkwardness than you had the very first time you met. He watches all your social fumblings with quiet amusement before disappearing into the apartment, his greeting to Johnny within cutoff abruptly by the closing of the door. 

Jesus Fuck. Could you be any more awkward or obvious? 

#

The next days come easier. The three of you fall into an easy routine. Simon is usually awake late and up early, running not just to keep in shape but from PTSD related nightmares you learn from Johnny. Johnny himself has his good days and bad days, days when the pain in his leg is too much for his general good humor to overpower. Those days, he is prone to melancholy and sulking. He plants himself on the living room couch and ‘can’t be arsed’ to move. Both men are troubled, their time on active duty leaving wounds that are fresh on their bodies and their minds—but it’s only part of them. 

And there is so much good. Johnny’s cooking (“my ma taught me”) is better than good. They both clean up after themselves and don’t mind picking up your slack on days when you pick up extra shifts and come home exhausted. 

One day bleeds into another and you come to find the awkward first interactions are in the dust in the rearview mirror. You no longer feel like a guest living in their guestroom. You’re home. 

One day you come home to the apartment smelling like oil paints. Simon is nowhere to be found (typical), but Johnny is at his easel, a palette set up with Winsor Newton colors: burnt sienna and vandyke brown and lamp black and titanium white and phthalo blue. The smell of turpentine stings your nose, but you don’t say anything; it’s a little unspoken, but you get the idea that the painting on Johnny’s easel was begun before his accident, and though he periodically puts paints on the palette, he has yet to add to it after all these months. 

He turns and brightens at the sight of you. 

“There she is. A sight for these sore eyes.” 

You roll your own. You’d learned by now that Johnny was a flirt—and it didn’t matter if Simon was in the room or not. As a matter of fact, perhaps it is in your imagination, but he seems to lay his flirtation on extra thick when Simon is in the room. The larger man never says anything, though he does give the occasional long-suffering sigh.

“Painting?” you ask. His paintbrush is still clean. 

“Just giving up on it!” he says cheerfully. He sets the paintbrush and the palette down, reaching for his cane. You don’t mention how heavily he leans on it as he comes around the couch and collapses, reaching down to arrange his bad leg in a position that is comfortable for him. “Do me a favor, lass? You’ll have to go climbing. On top of the cabinets, you see that tin? Be a love and fetch it for me.” 

You do as he asks, using one of the chairs from the kitchen island to stand on. It isn’t a tin at all but a solid glass container with fasteners on each side to maintain a nice, strong seal. You deposit it on his lap and are thinking of fetching him a pain pill while you’re in the mood to play Lassie when he opens the container and the smell hits you. 

Weed. 

“Do you smoke?” he asks. 

“Not often,” you admit. You didn’t have the budget for it. 

“Can’t let our best girl go without,” Johnny says, eyes twinkling. He calls you that a lot—’our best girl’. It makes something disgustingly needy inside of you preen its feathers. If only I were yours, you think. He takes out a pre-roll. “I haven’t smoked in a while either. This will probably be enough for the both of us.” 

And God, it is. He abandons his cane inside and you both cram together on the tiny balcony, shoulder to shoulder, passing the blunt back and forth. Johnny takes these deep drags, chest practically heaving with all the smoke he struggles to take in, every inhale ending in a series of light coughs and his fist pounding at his chest. 

“Not a bad view, is it?” he asks you, watching as you hold the smoke in your lungs for as long as you can. He takes his own hit and then passes you the blunt again, careful to keep the burning ember away from you, like a gentleman. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you feel a warm combination of the weed and his proximity thrum through all the vessels in your head and chest. 

You look out over the city. This high up, a good deal of the buildings are below you. The sky is still bright and blue, wispy clouds stretched thin here and there. You look at the streets and find yourself looking for Simon. “Not bad at all.” 

“That’s why I wanted to paint it so goddamn bad,” he admits. “Something pretty like this should be on paper. Canvas, I mean.” 

“Why can’t you finish? The painting,” you add when he raises a brow at your accidental double entendre. You bump his shoulder a little, careful not to truly send him off balance. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you to him while he thinks, taking another drag that almost finishes the blunt for good. 

“Dunno, really. I guess I was a different person when I started it. Seems wrong to have a different person finish the painting.” 

“I think that’s cool,” you admit, leaning against him. Weed makes you like that; touchy feely. “We’re changing all the time. Even if you hadn’t gotten hurt, you still wouldn’t be the same person who started it. Does that make sense or is that the weed talking?” 

“Definitely the weed,” he says solemnly.

You try to stay a little clear headed, though by the time you both are stumbling back into the apartment, you are leaning heavily on each other, giggling like school children. 

You make a bowl of popcorn, eat it all, and then make another. At one point, Johnny drops his sweatpants to show you the place in his femur where three pins lie. It takes all your strength to keep your eyes on the scar running along his tan skin and not his soft package three inches up and six inches to the right.

 Simon arrives home during the second bowl of popcorn. He is sweaty—does the man run for a fucking living? With a body like his, you might be persuaded to consider it—and immediately wrinkles his nose at the scent that has permeated the apartment despite you and Johnny’s best efforts. 

“There he is!” Johnny says, sleepily. “There he is, come home from the war.” 

“It’s pronounced run.” 

“Come give me a kiss, LT,” Johnny insists. 

Stuffing his earbuds in their container, he walks around behind the couch and plants a kiss on Johnny’s temple. Johnny makes an unhappy, demanding sound. He turns his upper body, reaching up to cup Simon’s jaw (briefly getting his fingers tangled in the mask below his chin) and brings him down for a full kiss. You look away at the first flash of pink tongue, feeling the heat in your face and about two feet lower.

When they’ve finished, Johnny says: “And what, no kiss for our girl?” 

You turn, eyes wide, mouth agape. Simon’s brows are a hair raised. Even he seems to think this is somewhat bold of Johnny. Before you can open your mouth to insist otherwise (it’s the only polite thing to do when your roommate offers your husband to kiss you), Simon says: “Give her one from me.” 

And he disappears into the bedroom, shedding his shirt along the way and giving you a nice peek at his muscled back, glistening in sweat. Johnny is giving you a sly look—does he know? God, he does, doesn’t he? Everyone knows how you feel about the two of your roommates. Paranoia threatens to send you spiraling. 

Then Johnny’s arm comes down around your shoulder, and the soap bubble of paranoia around you pops. 

Belly full, high, you fall asleep against him before Simon is even out of the shower. Sometimes you have moments of lucidity: Simon’s appearance and being jostled over as the two of you make room for him on the couch. The movie ending and another starting. A third bowl of popcorn. But each time you slip back into awareness, you are tucked underneath Johnny’s arm, nose full of his scent, warm and safe. It’s hard to want to wake up from that. 

The last time you wake up, it is to darkness. 

The movie has ended. Credits have rolled. 

Voices, quiet as whispers just barely audible over the sound of the late night traffic. 

“...scare her off.” 

You struggle to tune in to the conversation, eyelids heavy. “...didn’t seem scared. She wanted it.” 

“You didn’t give it to her.” 

“She’s high,” whispers Johnny. “She can’t consent.” 

“What a good boy you are.” 

Johnny sucks in a little breath. “Don’t, Si…” 

“Hm.” 

“She’s right fucking here.” 

“Asleep.” 

“A temporary condition, in case you didn’t know.” 

“I don’t see you stopping me.” 

Stopping him…your eyes crack open, lids so heavy you can barely move them. Somehow the three of you have fit together on the loveseat, you tucked beneath Johnny’s arm, and Johnny nearly laying across Simon’s lap. One of Simon’s hands—huge, so huge even compared to Johnny’s thick thighs—rests on his husband’s sweatpants-clad leg and is creeping northward. The sight is like a punch to your lower gut. The breath goes out of you in a shaky rush that neither of them seem to notice, the electricity between them too strong for anything to interfere.

“You can do it. You could stop me.” 

“Affirm,” Johnny whispers. His fingers flex against your shoulder unconsciously, and you feel his head whirl toward you, ducking down a little to make sure you are still asleep. You let your eyes fall shut just in time, keeping the rise and fall of your chest even and slow. His exhale brushes against your face and then he is turning away, back towards Simon.

“Then why don’t you.” 

“Cause I…” 

“Hm.” 

“Cause I don’t want to…” 

“Think you’d like it if she woke up,” Simon murmurs, his hand coming to palm Johnny’s rapidly hardening cock. He maps the shape of it through the cotton sweatpants like he’s learning the shape all over again. “You want her to see how desperate you get. That’s the real you, isn’t it, Johnny? You’re only ever just a stiff wind away from turning into a slut.” 

“Your slut,” Johnny breathes. He can’t thrust his hips against Simon’s touch, not without risking waking you, but he does reach out and put a hand over Simon’s, convincing him to use a firmer touch. You risk opening your eyes more, watching as the both of them stroke along the length of his cock slow like syrup. “Your slut, LT, only yours—” 

“Don’t lie to me.” The words put you on edge, but the tone—it’s all in the tone. Simon doesn’t sound like a man who is angry. He isn’t acting like one either, his thumb finding the head of Johnny’s cock beneath the cotton and teasing it softly. It jerks beneath the fabric, and you can’t help it. A sound slips past your lips, something desperate and needy. You clench your eyes shut, feeling both of them go stiff  and silent beside you. 

“She still—?” 

“Think so,” Johnny whispers. He says something else, but it is too quiet to be heard. 

The couch springs creak as Simon stands, and then you are taken up in the larger man’s arms. He still smells like his shower gel, his shirt freshly laundered. For a moment, the change in altitude as you are lifted has your eyes fluttering open, but Simon mutters something quiet that makes your eyes feel heavy all over again, though you don’t sleep, not as he carries you into your room and lays you on the bed, not as he draws back the covers and tucks you under them. 

You are only fast asleep before the sounds begin on the other side of the wall.

[softspiderling]

and I wish you wouldn't wait for me, but you always do | r.c.

summary:

“He always seems so rough, I guess I’m a bit surprised to see that he’s such a caring boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct her, reaching for her cigarette in her hand without asking, even though you are bumming it off of her. “We’re just friends.”

“Really?”

Avoiding Sofia’s inquisitive gaze, you look out to the pool, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“Really. Just friends.”

“Huh.”

OR, everyone thinks Rafe refuses to commit to a relationship, even though you're the one with cold feet.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 1,5k

warnings: MDNI, mention of sex, but nothing too graphic

author's note: i just wanted to write a short drabble but it just kept going and i'm not sorry. hope you like it, make sure to leave a comment/reblog if you do, i always appreciate it and ily

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You hate hate hate the word situationship.

It's dumb, and it glorifies uncertain terms in relationships and it never ends well.

Unfortunately, you can’t really find another term for the thing you have with Rafe. It’s more than a friends with benefits thing, but definitely not a relationship. Everyone always thinks it’s because of Rafe; that he doesn’t want to commit to a relationship, commit to one girl, and you always laugh it off when someone asks about it, never really denying it, letting them believe that it’s Rafe’s fault for the vague label of your… Thing. It’s easier to let them think what they want instead of admitting that you’re the reason.

You don’t know why you’re scared. Clearly you have some underlying trauma or maybe it was your first boyfriend who treated you shitty, but you just don’t want to call Rafe your boyfriend. Though honestly, to everyone else, it kind of seems like he is.

At every party, the two of you are attached at each other’s hip. Hands linked, pushing through the crowd, while Rafe looks over his shoulder every minute to make sure you’re still safely behind him. On the couch, Rafe is nursing a drink, listening to Topper yap about his new girlfriend, his arm slung around your shoulder while you talk to your friend. You get to a party together, you leave together.

“You know, I think it’s really cute that Rafe seems so protective over you,” Sofia says.

You glance over at her, having snuck outside for a smoke - Rafe doesn’t like the smell of cigarettes, which is ironic, really - and having bumped into the bartender, you two shared a cigarette.

“He always seems so rough, I guess I’m a bit surprised to see that he’s such a caring boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct her, reaching for her cigarette in her hand without asking, even though you are bumming it off of her. “We’re just friends.”

“Really?”

Avoiding Sofia’s inquisitive gaze, you look out to the pool, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“Really. Just friends.”

“Huh.”

You pass the cigarette back to her, hoping it would prevent her from talking any more, and it works. She doesn’t bring it up again.

A couple of hours later, you’re sitting in Rafe’s truck as he drives home. Home, as in his house. His hand is on your thigh, and you’re nearly dozed off, when he speaks up.

“Sofia asked me if I wanted to grab a drink with her.”

That got your attention.

You look over at him, blinking in confusion.

“Sofia Flores?”

“One and only.”

Your first thought is, bitch! Your second thought is, why am I getting mad? You swallow the lump that is forming in your throat and you shrug with your shoulders, leaning back in your seat.

“Okay… Where are you going to take her?”

Rafe doesn’t answer, and for a second you think that he might not have heard you before he clears his throat. “I’ll probably take her to the country club.”

“Uh-huh.”

You glance at him for a split second, before turning away to stare out of the window, frowning deeply. There’s something you want to say, it’s on the tip of your tongue, but before you can gather the courage to say it, Rafe pulls his hand away, the moment dissipating, leaving you simmering in anger, fighting with your emotions.

Despite the tension between the two of you, you still spend the night at his place. You still moan out his name as he fucks you from behind, tugging on your hair the way you like it. He still flips you around when you’re close, his eyes searching yours when you finally come, and you still close your eyes. After he’s finished, going to the bathroom to find a towel to clean you off, Rafe wraps himself around your backside, leaving warm kisses on your neck.

“About tomorrow-” he starts, but you break him off.

“Take her to The Summit,” you say. “She works at the country club, it’s weird if you take her there.”

“… Okay.”

You don’t say anything else, pretending that you’ve fallen asleep but you lay there, awake for hours with Rafe next to you. You hate the idea of Rafe going out with Sofia. She’s pretty. And nice. You could see him falling in love with her and it honestly bothers you more than you’d like to admit. There’s moments you’re so close to turning to Rafe, to tell him something, but you always chicken out. Somewhere during your 20th try, you finally fall asleep.

When you wake up the next morning, you can tell that it’s past noon already, the sun already high on the horizon. The other side of the bed is empty, barely even warm anymore, which means Rafe must have been awake for a while now. Picking up a shirt of his that hangs over a chair, you traipse around to find your panties, tugging them on when Rafe walks into the bedroom, already dressed and ready to go.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you say, distracted, running your hand through your hair. “Do you want to get breakfast?”

“Actually I just wanted to tell that I was about to leave to go pick up Sofia.”

“Already?” you ask, confused, staring at him.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be nice to take her out on the boat.”

“Oh.”

Rafe looks at you. For a very long time. Daring you to say something, but you only look back at him, the lump in your throat returning. Neither of you says anything, so Rafe only nods, grabbing his keys from the dresser.

“You can hang out here if you want, eat something. Don’t know when I’ll be back though,” he said nonchalantly and you ball your hands into fists, not answering because you’re not quite sure if you can keep your voice even. Rafe walks towards the door, when you finally break out of your stupor.

“Rafe.”

He stops in his tracks, halfway out of the room, but he doesn’t look at you. Which honestly, makes all of this a little easier.

“Don’t go on that date.”

To your embarrassment, your voice cracks a little, but you clear your throat, playing it off. Rafe finally turns his head, his eyes finding yours and you manage to hold his gaze.

“Why?”

You roll your eyes with a scoff, having expected that he wouldn’t make it easy on you. Rafe is a proud man, and you… Hurt his pride. Unintentionally, but you did.

“You know why.”

“Say it,” Rafe demands, his forehead creasing. “You can’t keep doing this to me.”

Something broke inside of you, hearing him say it like that, and you take a deep breath as you approach him slowly, your hands shaking as you reach out to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close.

“I’m sorry…” You say. “I hate this… I’m really bad at this feelings shit, but… Don’t go.”

You can tell that Rafe is not entirely convinced, and you know what he wants you to say. Something that you’ve been keeping so closely to your chest, that you never dared to say it out loud, or even think about it, but you know that if you don’t say it now, you might never get to change to say it ever again.

“I love you.”

Rafe’s hands find your waist and the frown on his forehead disappears. Finally. “Took you long enough,” he grunts, still a little upset and the lump in throat starts to get smaller.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you mumble, hiding your face in his chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just scared.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything, a hand coming up to the nape of your neck, tilting your face up so that you’d look at him.

“I get it.”

He leans down to kiss you, and you melt into him, kissing him back, following his directions as he moves you backwards to the bed. You fall backwards on the bed, and Rafe cages you in, but before he can go any further, you stop him, pushing at his chest.

“What?” he says, still leaning in to find your mouth.

“What about Sofia?”

“Fuck Sofia,” Rafe mutters, sucking a hickey on your neck but you swat at him.

“Rafe, no. That’s mean, the least you can do is cancel.”

Rafe groans, drawing back to pull his phone out of his pocket to text Sofia. He shows you the text, raising his brows.

“You happy now?”

“Very.”

He tosses his phone on the bed behind you, and gets back to business, nosing along your clavicle. His phone vibrates, but neither of you pay it any attention, too focused on each other.

Rafe: Sorry, I gotta cancel. Hope you don’t mind.

Sofia: It’s okay, don’t worry about it.

Sofia: Hope you two figured it out.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: if you thought "this bitch knows nothing about situationships and smoking" while reading this, you're right! hope it's still accurate.

[octuscle]

Greeting Support, I have always loved the looks and feel of chavs ; and their lifestyle ; is it possible to have a script that will make me a perfect one physically and mentally ; and being also total football lads (what American call soccer)

Phew! You're in your mid-30s… A bit old to pass as a credible chav. And that little paunch there and your snooty Oxford accent don't make it any better… But let's see what I can do. Here's the address of a pub in the Eastend. Be there at 17:00.

It's raining and you can't get a taxi. So you take the underground. It's also packed at the start of rush hour. When it's raining, it always smells like wet dogs on the underground, but today the stench is terrible. Your hand is on the grab rail. Your nose on your own armpit. Damn, that's you! You stink so bad. Didn't you use any deodorant today? But seriously, it smells like you haven't showered for three days. Or longer. Damn, you can only hope that nobody notices how you stink. You look around. Other passengers have already noticed…

Haggerston, you have to get out of here. A stream of people is heading towards the escalators. You're so embarrassed by the smell. So that no one recognises you, you look bashfully at the floor. At your heavy army boots. Damn it, where have your brogues gone? You look down at your hands. Dirty fingernails. Scrapes on the back of your hands and scabs on your knuckles. Fuck yeah, you shouldn't be fighting without your gloves.

On the street, you have to change buses for a few more stops. People are crowding under the small roof. A guy is smoking a cigarette next to you. You suddenly feel like smoking a cigarette too. You ask him if you can bum a cigarette. He looks at you uncomprehendingly. You repeat your question "Awright pal, dae ye speak mah leid? Cuid ye offer me a fag?" He seems to have understood about the fag. He hands you the packet of cigarettes and his lighter. "Damn, yer a lifesaver, pal! Ta gey muckle!" you answer him. Bloody Englishmen. They can't even speak properly.

It's 4.58pm when you enter the pub. It's packed. The match is about to kick off. You take your fags out of your wet Donkey worker jacket and hang it on the coat rack. You shout to Sean at the tap that you're having a large Belhaven. You can't drink that English swill they call beer here. But you can get the good Scottish stuff here. The right guys are here too. All true fans of Hibernian Edinburgh. After the humiliating draw against Hearts, we need a win against Rangers today. And you and the other Hibs here will give it your all!

Blimey, this is a really good game. Your lads needed a bit to get into their stride. But it's the score at the end that counts. Stoppage time. Still 2 to 2. One shot! A goal! A deafening roar! Beer splashes around. You're lying in the arms of strangers. You chant "Sunshine on Leith". The landlord serves a pub round. And one of your mates tells you that a few Rangers ultras are making their way here. You take your gloves out of the back pocket of your jeans and grin. It's going to be a hefty third half.

[billlydear]

hi, can i request a hurt/comfort fic where reader is struggling with family problems (maybe like billy or maybe something different) and they’re kind of a jerk like billy too? but then something happens that breaks them down and he just so happens to be there and he actually helps them deal with it. if you’ve already written something like this then i’m sorry, i’m new here 😅 but i love your writing and i’m excited to read more 💓

GOT A LIGHT? - BILLY HARGROVE X READER

W.C 1948 - INBOX (please request !) - GIF CREDIT TO OWNER

A/N: ohh my god i'm sorry i went MIA for like two weeks!! more to come soon, i promise <3 warnings: mentions of abuse, reader is abused similar to billy, they smoke together, angst, angst with a happy ending (? maybe hopeful, not happy 😅)

He's in his car when it happens. It's late, past 2AM, which is why he supposes your mother sees no problem opening the door and shoving you out. You trip over the porch step when she pushes you, landing hard on your ass on the concrete while she looms over you.

"Find somewhere to stay for the night," She seethes, spitting mad, "Because you're not welcome here."

He's suspected it for a while. Anger like the stuff inside of him, anger like the stuff he's seen ooze out of you, that doesn't happen for no reason. He's disappointed but not surprised to watch you fall, staying concealed in the darkness of his car as he watches from across the street.

You don't even try to get up, and Billy knows exactly how you feel. Sometimes, when you're knocked on your ass, you don't get back up. You're a modern day Sisyphus, and the boulder's rolled back down your hill one too many times. He decides to help you push.

He doesn't want you to startle if he slams the door to his car, so he leaves it open. Under any other circumstances, he'd close and lock it, watching from the other side of the street to make sure no one even breathes near it. But it's in the back of his mind as he crosses the street to your house, the slightly chilled night air nipping at his bare, toned arms.

He stops behind you, boots scraping slightly against the pavement. You don't dare look at him, you know who he is. There's only one person across the street that would be out at 2AM, and he's the last person you want to see.

"Come sit in my car," He murmurs, keeping his voice low in case your mom can hear from inside.

"Fuck off." You keep your eyes down, still turned away from him and splayed over the pavement. You're propped up on your elbows, and Billy sees one of them slowly staining the ground red.

"You can sleep in the backseat if you want," He presses on, ignoring your hostility the way no one ever ignores his, "I'll pass out in the front and keep the heater running."

"Fuck. off."

"I'm not allowed inside tonight either," Billy finally admits, "My dad and your mom took the same parenting class."

You're quiet, and Billy knows you're thinking about it. Thinking about all the times you've seen him threaten to blow, all the times you've heard the whistle of his teapot before it boiled over, all the times he lingers on the street too late to be casual.

"I have a first aid kit under the seat." Billy looks at the red-stained concrete, "And you can bum my cigarettes."

It's a peace offering. It's all a peace offering, a confirmation that there's someone else like him out there, and he'll be damned if he lets you slip through his fingers. He's spent enough time hiding from everyone that could never understand, and now that he knows someone can, he can finally talk. He can finally feel, he can finally relate, he can finally live.

Everything hinges on this. He can't keep doing this, he can't keep spending cold nights on the front steps or sneaking to the kitchen for an ice pack to put over his ribs. He can't do it alone, and you're the only one that can help him. He feels his heart beating out of his chest, pounding in his ears and pooling blood near his feet where they're bent against the sidewalk. His thighs are burning from how long he's been squatting, but he'd rather die than give up and walk away.

He uses your silence to mentally heal your wounds. He thinks about bandaging your fingers, disinfecting your cuts with a thin, pale antiseptic wipe that'll burn his own abrasions. He fantasizes about the simple act of sharing a cigarette with a friend, and you seem to share his thoughts.

"You- uh, you got a light?"

He knows that surrender. He knows the witty quip, the emotionally-distant snark meant to change the subject and disguise hurt for indifference. It's why he doesn't demand a 'Thank you,' because the way you look back at him is enough of one. You let him help you off the ground, and support half of your weight when the knee you'd tweaked gives you trouble. He helps you hobble back to his car, and he even shuffles you into the driver's seat to get you in quick and easy, where the door is still open. No one else has ever sat in the driver's seat of his car.

"I'll get the first aid kit," He murmurs, "Take a smoke."

He hears you wrestle with the pack of cigarettes he'd left on the center console while he digs around in the backseat for his first aid kit. When he gets back with the little plastic box there's one between your lips unlit, and he remembers your earlier question.

"Here," He fumbles in his pocket for his lighter. He yanks it out, sparking it until a flame roars to life. He holds it against your unlit cigarette, watching as the embers form and glow in the dark.

"Thanks," You mumble, and he nods while reaching for your hands. They're scraped and raw, blood dark in the creases of your fingers but light over your palms like you'd formed a fist and bunched it up there. There's rocks in your cuts from the concrete of your front steps, and he picks it out with his fingernails, crimson gathering under them that, for once, isn't his own.

You hiss as he pulls a particularly rough rock from its spot, and he fights not to acknowledge it. He doesn't want you to feel weak, so he keeps picking until your hands are gravel-free. He's far too good at wrapping wounds for an 18 year-old, but neither of you comment on it. He knows you are, too.

"There," He keeps your hands in his own, only a thin layer of gauze separating his skin from yours. He only moves his hands to pluck the cigarette from between your lips with one, and you blow smoke out of the side of your mouth instead of in his face as a thank-you.

"You sleep in here?" You raise an eyebrow, and he throws a scathing glance at his house.

"Sometimes. Only when my dad's having a bad night."

"So all of them," You scoff, "I've seen you out here before. I was gonna-" You pause, scoffing, then bury your face in your bandaged hands, scrubbing it clean of something Billy's sure is vulnerability. He takes a drag from your cigarette while you hesitate.

"I was gonna come out and ask if you were okay," You grumble from inside your protective shell, "But I- I dunno, I try not to be out here at night if I don't have to be."

"You don't know if they'll let you back in," Billy mumbles, nodding while funneling smoke out of the corner of his mouth, "I get it."

You nod, then shiver. Billy suddenly remembers he's still crouched on asphalt and not safe inside, because a cigarette and a friend concoct warmth he's never known before. He pats your knee, then stands, "I'll crank up the heater."

It's weird being in the passenger's seat of his own car. He's been in there to clean, scrape mud from the wheels of Max's skateboard off of the floor while he curses her under his breath. But it's different settling in the seat, head leaning back against the headrest while you shut the driver's side door. Silence envelops the car, and Billy clicks the lights on so that you've got a warm glow cast over you.

"Thanks for the cigarette," You take it back from him when he offers it to you, "That's what- uh, that's why I was out there. My mom found mine."

"My dad doesn't care," Billy spits, grateful for the freedom but doomed by the negligence, "I think he'll be glad if I die of lung cancer so he doesn't have to kill me himself."

You snort, and he's so glad you don't apologize. There's a certain familiarity that the two of you can speak with, you don't have to preface anything with 'okay, this is kind of dark, but-' or 'can i tell you something personal?'. You both have the same lives, and conversation clicks into place like puzzle pieces.

He wonders when the last time you got to relax was, as you sink into the seat. Your shoulders aren't tense and your eyes drift shut, both things that seem impossible for Billy in his own home. He suspects it's the same for you, which is why he doesn't lament the night ending so soon.

He wants to say goodnight to you, like a friend would. He wants to pretend he's at a sleepover on your floor, like your mom had brought you two cookies an hour ago, and now you're playing cards in your sleeping bags. He wants to pretend things are normal, that you're kids hopped up on sugar and giggles, not teenagers on nicotine and despair.

But the scent of smoke fills his car, and there are bandages on your hands. So he waits for your breathing to even out, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest in time with the seconds that slip away from your last encounter with your family. In, out, in, out, further and further away from the horrors in your house.

Only when he's absolutely certain you're asleep does he dare speak, and his voice is barely anything above a whisper, raspy and cautious.

"Goodnight," He murmurs, because he feels incomplete shutting his eyes without saying it. He keeps his head turned towards you as he sleeps, legs splayed open as he slumps against the seat behind him. He's almost afraid to go to sleep, on high alert to make sure that nothing can steal away his opportunity. Making sure the lights in his house are still off, that his dad won't give up and push him back into the house in case the neighbors see him sleeping in his car. He's busy making sure your lights aren't on either, that your mother doesn't storm over and demand that her child be released from the young man's car. And he's making sure you don't slip out yourself, like you're a puff of smoke that could vanish if he puts too much faith in you.

But eventually, his eyes slip shut and don't open again for hours. He goes to sleep with a friend in his car, and he wakes up with one, too. There's light streaming through the windshield, and the car is more than warm because of it. There's birds chirping, there's people walking their dogs, there's chatter over backyard fences, and there's you.

You're flipping through a book of postcards that he keeps in the driver's side door, all of California's scenic spots. Your fingers are brushing over his favorite now, the beaches along the coast that he'd swore to surf clean across. You glance over at him when he shifts in his seat, and you bite the inside of your cheek before breaking the silence.

"Morning," You mumble, averting your eyes to the postcard in your lap, "These are.. these are really pretty."

"Yeah they are," Billy rasps, morning voice in full effect, "Prettier in person, though."

"I'll have to go sometime, then." You hum, and Billy's decided before you flip to the next page that he'll be the one to take you.

[watsittoyah]

Mix tape (NATE JACOBS X BLK FEM READER)

In which Nate Jacob makes you mix tapes because his toxic ass can’t tell you how he feels…

(Track 01) In my city I'm a young god. That pussy kill be so vicious. My god white, he in my pocket. He get me redder than the devil 'til I go nauseous… -Often, The Weeknd

Warnings- oral sex (female Receiving)

(Next)

You were a straight A student. You didn’t step out of line, hell you didn’t even sneak out to meet boys. But that’s all about to change…

~~~

“What? Little Jade about to step on the field with the big girls?!” Your best friend and infamous influence, Stacey squeals as you two stretch out on the field.

“Shh! Don’t be so dang loud. I’m only trying it out because Tess said it would be fun.” You tell her. “First of all the word is Damn, and second since when you listen to Tess’ stuck up ass?”

Your eyes widen as you look back to make sure Tess, your step sister, didn’t hear her. “Shh! Why are you so loud?” You both laugh and Stacey lean in so no one else can hear.

“Since you’re all big poppin’ how about you come out tonight? I heard McKay’s fine ass is throwing a Halloween party and his parents aren’t even home. You gotta come with me, I want him to see me in my maid costume but I need my best friend there with me to hype me up. So you coming?”

Here you we go.

On the angelic side, you’d decline the offer. Grab a pizza with your family and pass out candy to a few trick or treaters while you watch some boring show on Netflix. And you’d hear about the Halloween party of the century the next day.

On the hot girl side you’d say fuck it, let’s go. And you’d have a ball, smoke some weed, shit you might actually get a guy to touch you, and not act like a priss miss.

So what’s it gonna be, Jade?

You snap out of your inner monologue and raise a brow. “What time is the party?” Stacey bursts out laughing. “Girl I know you’re not serious. I was just playing with you. I’m sure I can ask Monica to go with me.”

You frown at her and pull your braids up into a ponytail. “I’m not playing. What time is the party?” The smile on your best friends face melts away. “Jade, if you’re serious, then it’s happening tonight around ten. Please tell me you have a costume to wear? And don’t you come to this party wearing your first Sunday clothes.” You roll your eyes. “Girl shut up, I have a cute costume.” Stacey rolls her eyes at you. “Yeah I’ll be the judge of that, I’m coming over to your place an hour before then. And don’t even try to cop out last minute.”

“I am not going to cop out last minute. Damn.”

~~~

There is no way in hell you can go to this party? What were you thinking?

You were pacing your bedroom, on the verge of hyperventilating.

“I can’t do this. I just can’t.” You hear knocking and without even thinking you open your door and Stacey was standing there wearing a form fitted maid costume that cut down low to show her tits. “What’s wrong?” She asks while walking into your bedroom.

“I must be out of my mind, that’s what’s wrong. I can’t go. I don’t have anything to wear, plus what if the police are called? What if they find out I was at that party and that goes on my permanent record? What if they tell me I can’t get into a good college? I’ll be some bum on the street scraping up pennies off of the sidewalk!”

Stacey shakes you by your shoulders. “Jade! Chill! We’re going to a party not some drug run. Now let me see your costume. And before you say anything you’re going to this party.”

You pout and grab the little box you had stashed in the back of your closet. You pass it over to her and she opens the box.

“Where have you been hiding this? And can I borrow it?” You snatch the box back, putting it on your bed.

“It’s been in my closet since last summer. I bought it just in case for times like these but now I don’t think I can pull it off.”

“Go put it on.” Stacey tells you. You open your mouth to argue but she points to your bathroom and you take the box then march your crack to the bathroom.

Once the dress is on your peek out of the bathroom. “Jade, we got ten minutes before the party starts. And I’m all for being fashionably late but my future baby daddy is hosting this thing. Come on now.”

You step out of the bathroom and you’re tugging at the hem of the dress. It was a tight red dress that came mid thigh. It might have been longer if you didn’t have hips and ass on you.

“You look good! Now I know you still have those red thigh highs, because I haven’t took them for my closet yet.” Stacey goes into your closet and you take a deep breathe. Dressing up as a she-devil wasn’t your first pick but the costume was a laugh at the moment and it was on sale last year.

You tug at the dress and Stacey tsks. “Don’t you have a thong? I can see your granny panties.” Your eyes widen. “No, I don’t own a pair.” Stacey circles you and grins.

~~~

You feel uncomfortable not wearing underwear under the dress but Stacey tells you that it’s fine. But you’re nervous. This isn’t something you’d do. When Stacey is about to open the door you grab her arm. “What if I can’t do this?”

“And what if you can? Look, you look fucking amazing. Let loose for a change. If you could be anyone right now who would you be? Don’t tell me just take a deep breathe and be them. Alright?”

You nod and you take a deep breathe and you think about all those girls you’ve seen in those teen movies you’ve watched with Tess. You roll your shoulders back and Stacey opens the door. You’re hit with the smell of weed, bodies, and alcohol. Stacey takes your hand and you two enter together.

“McKay is over by the corner, and I see Cassie trying to get her hands on him. But watch this.” Stacey says in your ear as she guides you two over to them.

Remember me by Wiz Khalifa was playing and you see McKay glancing at Stacey. He then looks your way and your stomach was doing summersaults.

You won’t admit it to Stacey but Christopher McKay was fine as hell to you. But since she was your best friend you took the step back.

He gives Cassie a nod and he leans off of the wall and heads towards the two of you. “Hello ladies.” He greets as he yells a bit over the music. “Hey McKay.” Stacey says in her best sex voice. You turn your face a bit to keep from laughing and you see the punch bowl. “Is there water?” You turn back to ask and see Stacey pulling McKay towards the crowd.

“So much for sticking together.” You mumble as you move towards the kitchen. You see a few freshman dressed as gorillas doing body shots off of two junior girls dressed as bananas. You gently chuckle at that as you grab a small bottle of water, inspecting it.

Once you’ve seen it hasn’t been tampered with you crack it open and take a few gulps. Someone passes you a blunt but you pass and find some cheese puffs. You go to reach for some and your hand brushes against someone.

And that someone happened to be Nate Jacobs.

You knew Nate because he was your friend, at least until he found the gym and became a jock. After that, you both drifted apart and you moved to the upper east side of town.

Nate still had a special place in your heart seeing that the both of you looked out for each other when bad times had hit both of your families. Especially when that shit went down with his br-

“Jade Springfield?” He asks as he squints at you. “Nate Jacobs?” You mimic him and he gives a big smile which makes your heart leap. “How have you been?” He pulls you into a hug and you hold him close. For just that split second it felt like old times again.

“I’ve been good. Damn Jacobs you got tall.” You say to him with a smile. “And you stayed short.” He teases. You punch him playfully in the stomach and he laughs.

“Anyways, how have you been?” You ask him as he keeps his hands wrapped around you. “I’ve been good. Better now that I know you’re here.” The last part of his answer made your spine tingle a bit.

You clear your throat and step back from his touch. “Hey you wanna go outside? It’s kind of-”

“Loud? Yeah let’s go.” He takes your hand and you two head out to the back. As soon as you two step outside the music just stops and you allow yourself to relax. You two were on the back deck, you sit down on the steps and Nate sits down besides you.

“You still don’t like loud places huh?” Nate asks you. “You remember that?” You ask as you empty the water bottle. “Of course, I mean it’s been what almost four and a half years? But yeah, I remember.” He smirks at a thought and he takes a swig of beer. “That better be root beer, Nate.” You tease, bumping your leg against his. He rolls his eyes but smiles when he’s done drinking.

“Of course its root beer, Jade. Because that’s what teens drink of parties like this.” It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Smart ass. So I heard through the grapevine that you’re playing football.”

“I am, and I heard through the same grapevine that you’re cheerleading. When are you gonna come cheer for me?” He says in a flirtatious tone. “Alright that ‘root beer’ getting you talking reckless Jacobs.”

You notice he’s leaning in a bit closer. And you cross your legs. “You remember that one time in the fourth grade when Jason Bateman dared you to kiss me?”

“Oh god, yes and you punched me in the jaw. Your little first hurt.” You two laugh at the memory and you lean your head on his shoulder. “I missed this, Nate-Nate.” He scoffs. “Shit I haven’t heard that nickname in a long time, Jay-Jay.” You smile at your childhood nickname.

“Why did you have to become some jerk who forgot about me?” You ask him as he hands you the rest of his beer. You accept it and down the rest, wincing from the bad taste.

“I could never forget about you, Jade. Actually if I’m being honest when we were kids I had the hugest crush on you.” You lean away from him and turn so you’re facing him. “You’re lying.”

He raises his hands and laughs. “I’m not lying. I took that dare from Jason because I didn’t want anyone else kissing you. As far as I knew you were going to be my girlfriend in the fourth grade.”

The way Nate was eyeing your legs made your inner thighs throb. “I heard…you’re dating Maddie Perez.” You say instantly regretting that.

He sighs and you notice his jaw clenching. “She dumped me last week, so…yeah.” Way to go Jade, you tell yourself.

“Sorry, I didn’t know.” He nods. “No one knows that she dumped me. I just told everyone that we’re taking a break.”

“Why would you tell me then?” Nate shrugs and scoots in close to you. “Because I can trust you, not to tell anyone. And because out of everyone in this fucked up town, I actually like you. And I’m sorry I just stopped being friends with you. I was going through a lot and your parents were going through that divorce. Which isn’t an excuse, but-”

You lean in and hug him. “I know when you ramble you like that, underneath it means you need a hug. You know my number hasn’t changed. If you need someone to talk to I’m here.” He hugs you back and he inhales deep. “How has it been a few years and you still understand me better than anyone?” He asks. You lean back and shrug.

“We just have that connection, Nate-Nate.” You smile at him and he brings his hands to your hips.

The warmth from his hands made your chilly body feel good. And his cologne was making a small puddle between your legs.

Calm down Jade. This is Nate you’re thinking about. The same Nate that you would play with on the playground. The same Nate that you knew before the muscles.

The same muscles that you were sure you wouldn’t mind looking at under his criminal costume.

“A she-devil, hm? Seems like the perfect costume for you, Jade. I especially like these thigh high boots on you.” His hand seems to trail from your knee all the way up to your inner thigh. You bite your bottom lip and look pass his shoulder but he shakes his head.

“No, baby focus. I want those pretty eyes on me.” His hand reaches under your dress and he sucks in a sharp breathe. “You’re not even wearing panties?” You jerk your legs closed and move back.

“I’m sorry! I’ll go.” You were about to get up but Nate stops you. “You don’t need to apologize. I was just surprised is all, I didn’t except a snack ready for me to eat.” Nate eyes between your thighs this time and when he looks back up you find yourself leaning in.

He leans in close as well. Both of your lips meet and you feel yourself move, straddling him. He places his hands on your hips and he presses his erection against your cunt. You let out a moan and he bites your bottom lip. “Do you feel that?” You nod as he presses it harder against you. “I want this inside of you, right now. But only if that’s okay with you, Jay-Jay.” His hand travels up your neck and he brings your mouth close to his. “Use those words, pretty girl.”

“I want you inside of me, Nate.” You mouth as you kiss him again. He grunts as his tongue slides past your lips. He tastes like cheap beer, and some strong mint he probably ate before he got to the party.

He stands up with your legs wrapped around him. And he walks off of the deck. “Mm, where. Are, we going?” You ask moaning against his lips. “Just to my truck.” He answers as he kisses your neck.

When he gets to his truck his presses the key and the door unlocks. He places you inside and climbs in after you. “Get in the back, Jay-Jay.” Nate says to you as he takes off the top half of his costume.

You do as you’re told and he follows after you. He gets on top of you and he looks down at you. “Never thought I would have Jade Springfield in my truck.” He says with a smirk.

“Oh shut up, Nate.” You laugh but Nate wasn’t. Instead he gets down on his knees, spreading your legs apart and placing them on his shoulders.

“Don’t look away, I want your eyes on me.” He says as he leans down and flicks his tongue across your clit. Your legs jerk a bit which makes Nate smirk.

“Does my tongue scare you, Jay-Jay?”

“No.” You lie as he spreads your lips apart. “I think you’re lying. I think my tongue scares you and you like that.” He flicks his tongue across your clit slowly and your breathes hitches.

You move your hips to the rhythm of his tongue and you moan out while your nails scratch at his seat. You watch as his eyes flutter closed and the grabs you and pulls you closer.

“Oh shit, Nate don’t stop.” Your hands find their way to his hair and you grip his hair as you work your hips harder. He sucks your clit and your legs clench.

He continues to flick his tongue against your clit but he slides in two fingers, doing the here motion which causes you to moan out in tongues as he massages that sweet spot.

“N…Nate you’re gonna make me cum.” You whimper. He just keeps eating you out like your his last meal on earth. You feel your eyes rolling to the back of your skull with your back arching. Without warning you squirt in his mouth and on his seats.

You try to close your legs because it’s sensitive but he keeps going. “N-Nate it’s se-sensitive please.” He looks up at you and he twirls his tongue which makes you stutter out gibberish.

“Sure you’re not scared of my tongue, Jade?” He rolls his tongue and you feel your orgasm hit again. “Y, yes I’m scared. I can’t h..handle i- I’m coming.” You moan out as your hips move to your orgasm.

He gives one more good suck to your pussy lips and he leans up, kissing you so you can taste yourself on his tongue. “I could eat your pussy for hours, Jay-Jay. But I’ll do that next time. Right now I know you want this.”

He places your hand on his crotch and your eyes go wide. There no way that is fitting inside of you. Nate sees the fear in your eyes and he leans down kissing your neck. “I know it’s big, but I’ll be gentle. I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.” He sucks the side of your neck and you moan his name out softly.

You feel him move you back against his seat. And you hear his zipper unzip. You can’t see what his dick looks like in the dark but from the feel of it you know it’s bigger than the toys you use.

You hear something rip and in the street light you see it’s a condom wrapper. He moves himself closer to you and you know it’s going to hurt since he is your first but you both freeze when you hear a cop siren in the distance.

Nate moves back and you sit up to see the lights of a few cop cars.

Suddenly everyone runs out of McKay’s house and you two scramble to get decent. “I can take you home.” Nate tells you, but you shake your head.

“I’m not leaving, Stacey behind. Let me out real quick.” He opens the door and you climb out of his truck, looking through the crowd for Stacey.

You feel your phone vibrate and you answer it. “Where are you?” You hear Stacey ask in a panic. “I’m outside, where are you? I’ll find you.” You hear Nate say something but you take off running where you see Stacey’s car.

When you get in she was panicking. “Girl, apparently someone’s ex girlfriend called a noise complaint and got the party shut down…” As Stacey gives you the details you get a text from an unknown number.

Unknown-

Hey, it’s Nate. Maybe we can pick up where we left off. Not just tonight but from back then? 🙂

You feel a small smile on your lips and you go to answer but Stacey says something that makes you reconsider.

“..McKay says he thinks it was Maddie who called, since she heard that Nate was here..”

You feel the guilt in your heart and you give a wow that’s crazy for your comment and lean your head against the window.

Maybe meeting up with Nate tonight was a bad thing.

Boy was it ever…

[celandeline]

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (7)

Even at night, this house is sweltering. It’s like somehow, the walls trap in the absorb the heat of the day and spit it back out at night. Even in my thin cotton shorts and the tiniest shirt I own, I’m still sweating. I roll over, and kick the sheets off, spreading my limbs out to try and alleviate the stickiness. I’ve got to get used to this heat or I’m not going to get any sleep for the rest of the summer. 

I shift again, flipping the pillow in the hopes that the underside might be cooler. Moonlight streams in through the window, and I watch a breeze shift through the short trees outside. In the hopes of catching some of that breeze myself, I slide out of bed, padding over to the window, the floorboards creaking under my feet. I undo the latch, and push against the frame, but the glass doesn’t budge. 

I simply stare at the wall for a minute. “Fucking fine. I’ll just die of heatstroke then.” I say, like the house can hear me and is deliberately fucking me over. 

I’m still at the window when I hear a low creak from out in the hallway, and for a minute I’m worried that Venetia heard me, but there is no knock at my door. Instead, her footsteps retreat down the hall until I can’t hear them anymore. A twinge of annoyance flares up in me - she didn’t even check to see if I was awake. Not that she had to, of course, but this summer is supposed to be about us hanging out. If she’s going to go out on a nighttime adventure, I’d expect her to at least ask me along. Especially to get me out of this stuffy room. 

I walk back over to the bed and kick my flip flops out from underneath, slipping my feet into them. Taking the box of cigarettes and the lighter from my nightstand and tucking them in the band of my shorts, I start out after her.  

I know the house well enough at this point to find my way outside, immediately relishing the feeling of the cooler night air washing over me. The subtle concert of crickets in the tall grass is the only sound. Venetia is nowhere to be found, and I have no idea where to start looking. Instead, I sit down on the stone steps, and light a cigarette. 

For a while, it’s just me, the nicotine, and the moon. It’s about half-full, and hanging high in the sky. Even only half full, it’s brighter than normal, it seems, and casts the grounds in sharp definition. It’s goth, almost, the eerie way the moon highlights the statues dotted around the lawn and paints the maze in the distance like a looming mass. It’s eerie enough that the sound of the door behind me almost makes me jump. 

I turn, quickly, to see Farleigh step outside, only in his boxers. He seems just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. A beat of silence passes between us. “Hi.”

“Hey.” I return, turning back to face the yard. 

I don’t expect him to sit down next to me, but he does, sprawling his lanky body down the steps. “Can I bum a smoke?”

“Sure.” I say, digging the box of cigarettes out of my waistband, and passing one to him. Farleigh tucks it between his lips, and then leans close, pressing the end of his cigarette to mine, lighting it off my cherry. The scent of him - the musk of sleep, his hair products, deodorant - fills my nose. 

“Thanks.” Farleigh says, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. 

Another moment of silence passes as we both smoke. 

“So,” He drawls. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah.” I say. “It’s so fucking hot in there, and the window in the room I’m in won’t open.” I let a cloud of smoke slip out from my lips. “I take it, you too?” I say, gesturing to his boxers with my cigarette. 

“Mhm.” Farleigh hums. 

The conversation dwindles into nothingness again. It’s little awkward - I haven’t spoken to anyone but Venetia one-on-one, and I don’t quite know what to say. It feels more intimate than it should, us sitting here in our pajamas (Farleigh barely wearing anything really), having a smoke. 

“So what’s your deal?” He says, breaking the silence and tilting his head towards me. His tone is totally different - sharper, accusing even. 

It takes me aback. “What do you mean?”

He flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette. “Why does V keep you around? What do you do?” He asks. “I guess,” He laughs, “Is it drugs or sex? Lord knows she doesn’t need money.”

It’s offensive, almost, except for the smile on his face. It spikes some anger, but I squash it quickly, taking a drag of my cigarette. “Why do you ask?” I force my tone to be casual. “Scared?”

He scoffs. “As if-”

“Because it seems like you’re scared, Farleigh.” I say, cutting him off.

There’s a tension in the air as we just look at each other. His eyes shift around my face, looking for something. A slow smile stretches across his face. “I see.”

“See what?”

“It’s just like Venetia to need a guard dog.” He laughs. “I mean, I know she doesn’t have any friends at Cambridge but I didn’t know she was being bullied.”

This time, my anger is not so easily squashed. “She’s got enough to deal with-”

“I’m not going to jump on the bandwagon, Eves, calm down.” He rolls his eyes. “I was just curious why you’re here.” 

I take a long drag of my cigarette, and purposefully exhale so that the smoke drifts past his face. My anger dissipates some. I can read him just the same as he’s read me - he’s making sure I’m not another Oliver, for whatever reason. 

He waves the smoke away from his face. “God, you’re vicious.” He grins. “I can see why she likes you.” Just like that, all the sharpness in his voice is gone. Just like that, he’s talking like we’re best friends again. Flipped on a dime. 

I roll my eyes, and lean back against the steps. 

“Don’t take it personally, c’mon.” He says, leaning back on his elbows to follow me. 

“In the week that I’ve been here, the only thing I’ve learned about you is that you’re a catty bitch.” I say, looking him dead in the eye. 

He tips his head towards me with a wry grin. “What, you wanna know my favorite color or something?”

I just blink at him, and take a drag of my cigarette. 

His gaze shifts back out into the yard. “It’s blue.”

The admission makes me smile - it’s an apology without saying ‘I’m sorry’, which seems like the best I’ll get from him. “Mines red.”

&lt; previous part | next part >

[ashpkat]

ash dump ideas u never completed or just had on me

idk what fandom. and idc

feel high but also dead rn so j need some brain juice.... please, dickmaster ash the smash.....

oh boy i can do you one worse better. here’s an unfinished first chapter of a cassidy blake fusion au idea i had for magisterium. (u don’t need to know what cassidy blake is to understand but it’s by v.e. schwab)

Call had always been able to see ghosts. Somewhat. He could feel ghosts than he could see on a regular basis, it required a little work to actually see the ghosts. There were some rules. The Veil rule, for instance. How ghosts could only be seen in the Veil. With one exception of course.

Some people think ghosts only come out on Halloween, or during the night. That was not true, not by a long shot. Just because people couldn’t see them doesn’t mean they weren’t there. They could be anywhere, in some poor old lady’s garden, the bread aisle of the supermarket, the front seat of a bus, anywhere. 

Call could feel when a ghost is near. It was something reminiscent of the pitter patter of rain on a window, or maybe someone lightly tapping him on the shoulder. In other more severe cases, sometimes it was like a pulsing headache or someone digging their nails into his brain. 

It happened at random. And this certainly wasn’t the first time he felt it, and it wouldn’t be the last, either. Call was sitting in his desk during Algebra when it began, the tap tap tap. Like always, he tried to ignore it. Key word was tried. It chiseled away at his focus, and there was only one way Call knew that would make it go away. If he went and saw for himself.

Which more often than naught, he doesn’t want to go do. He can tell Aaron doesn’t either, because across the room when Call met his eye, met the intense glare he’s giving him from his seat. Very intense, like terminator laser death intense (Calls never seen the Terminator, so he doesn’t know if they actually shoot lasers but he thinks they probably should because that would be cool). 

Aaron couldn’t feel the tapping, but he knew his best friend well enough to realize when Call does. 

Call shifted in his seat, bouncing his leg absentmindedly. It had gotten stiff and painful from sitting down all day. The teacher just kept droning on. 

“When you get the variable X in this scenario isolated then you’ll have to…” Mr. Graves wheezed out as if he’d been smoking for thirty years. Knowing the amount of stress his students cause him, he probably had.

People around the room were getting antsy with their boredom. No one could even stay still. Rafe wqs sleeping with his eyes open, Kai doodles on their shoes, Kylie and Lacy were giggling and passing notes to each other. 

It was nothing good, Call assumed, because nothing good comes out of popular kids. That’s what Kylie and Lacy were, popular. He could tell because of their bleach blonde hair and perfectly painted nails and how they all looked like carbon copies of eachother. 

They’re usually all had similar personalities too — being general assholes. Kylie has once told Call not to get too close because she thought his bum leg might be contagious. Call fumed for at least 2 weeks after that (and still, 7 years later, he still was).

Maybe he should’ve wanted to be popular, but that was never his style (both literally and figuratively). There were just too many rules, like laugh at jokes but don’t laugh too loud. Smile but not too wide. Wear the right clothes. Play the right sports. Care, but don’t care too much. Etcetera, etcetera.

Call had rules he lived by, like rules with Aaron, but those were different.

 Kylie flicked the note in front of her, over to Lacy’s desk, but she missed and it floated to the floor like a leaf in the wind. From his seat, Call can see Aaron strike a rare, impish grin. 

“I know just what will get your mind off this ghost tap,” said Aaron. Call looked over at him, cocking an eyebrow with mild surprise.

The thing about Aaron was this: he could be popular. He could be the star quarterback. He could be the teenage heartthrob of the school. But he couldn’t.

Because Aaron was dead. He’s a ghost.

Aaron got out of his seat and sauntered over to Lacy’s desk, she’s retrieved the note and is stifling a giggle as she scribbled a reply.

He read aloud over her shoulder, but Call was the only one who can hear him, “Top ten cutest boys in the school,” Aaron feigned surprise, “not to spoil anything but.. number one is Ryan.”

Call rolled his eyes. He could see as Lacy turned around and placed her response on Kylie’s desk, her arm went straight through Aarons torso. Aaron shivered. Then, he turned his body to face Kylie's desk, gingerly putting his fingers on one of the many multi-colored pens that lined it. He focused all his attention on it, scrunching up his semi-transparent tan face. It doesn't move.

In movies, poltergeists could throw TV's and slide beds across the floor. But in reality, it took a lot of ghost energy to cross the Veil -- which is what Call dubbed the little curtain that separated the living and the dead. And the ghosts who do have that energy are typically super old and not very pleasant. Luckily they've never had to deal with one of those. Call was secretly glad that Aarons wasn’t made of all that stuff.

Aaron caught Call staring at his pen escapade and sheepishly smiles, as if he knew he's probably not supposed to be doing that. Then he gracefully clipped himself through the floor and reappeared next to Call. 

He perched himself on Calls desk, effectively hindering what little attention Call was paying. 

“I’d say that didn’t get your mind off it, hm?” Aaron cracked a half smile.

Yeah, actually maybe a little, but now all I can think about are Ryan’s chiseled abs, Call thought to himself, careful not to speak aloud. That was one major perk of having a ghost best friend, he never even had to open your mouth to have a conversation, with the mind link and all. He doesn't quite understand why their minds are linked, however.

“Better than thinking about ghosts right?” Aaron said, but as he does Call could feel the tapping getting stronger. Like an itch at the edge of his vision, pulling and begging for him to look that way. Aaron sighed and shot him a sympathetic look as he hopped down from his desk.

It really only made Call think more about ghosts, and not just the one pestering him, somewhere far in the school, but also Aaron. Call doesn’t know how long it’s been since.. the incident. He tried not to think about it too loud, since Aaron typically gets a little upset when Call mentioned it— how he got stuck actually being a ghost.

He couldn’t have been dead for too long, since there’s not anything retro about him with his floppy blonde hair, Nikes, and Marvel T-shirt. And also because he’s only showed up as of lately, and lately being the last 2 years. It was when Call was 12, and his dad had gotten some weird antique with some weird ghost boy seemingly attached to it. 

“I prefer the term corporally challenged.” Aaron rolled his eyes at Call.

Quit reading my thoughts you freak, Call shot back at him, can’t I get any privacy? 

“It’s not my fault you’re a loud thinker,” he retorted. “Also for the record, I wasn’t attached to the antique! I was following the pull back to you. Things aren’t haunted like that. You know that’s not how it works.”

Thats not what my dad says, Call hid his laugh with a swift cough into his hand. A few people turn and look at him anyway. He sunk lower into his seat and eyes the clock. The tapping was getting worse.  

Calls dad, Alastair, had always been a little obsessed with antiques and the history behind them. Lately, he had been inching towards supernatural territory. Actually no, not just inching, it was a full on sprint into spectral space.

It was like a switch being flipped in his brain, and all Alastair wanted to buy now are creepy old dolls that looked like they would be haunted but weren’t. Call would’ve known if they are. And it wasn’t like Call could ever tell his dad that, because he’d go crazy and try to interrogate him. Alastair had even been talking to some medium that claims he can see ghosts, but Call doubted. He’d met the guy and he couldn’t even see Aaron, so that was enough evidence for a faker for him. 

Maybe he’s going through a midlife crisis, Call thinks to Aaron. He just crinkled his nose at Call and shook his head.

”I don’t think Alastair believes the medium can actually see ghosts,” Aaron said slowly. “Maybe he just likes the company. If you’re catching my drift.”

Call tried hard to not let his face twist up and make it look like he was constipated. No? Whats the drift i’m missing here?

”You know,” he sighed, “that they’re not just chatting about ghosts? They’re getting… romantical?” At Call’s blank face, he gave up the ghost (ha) and soldiered on. “Is the tapping still there?” Aaron asked, even though Call was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

Sure is, he replied and rubbed the back of his neck. Like a knock, knock, knocking on the base of his skull. It was telling him that there’s some serious paranormal activity going on. Call sighed. He could certainly do without all this spectral nonsense, he couldn’t wait for Summer. Because in Summer, Call could get full nights rests without hearing the tap of the Veil and rather the sounds of Alastair tinkering with cars in the garage. There's something odd about the Hunts house, because Call found that it’s strangely quieter than the rest of the town, especially in Summer. Six weeks of quiet, six weeks of Summer sun and reading comic books with Aaron, six weeks of almost feeling normal with his best friend. All Call has to do was make it through these final days.

Call raised his hand like the dutiful student he was. Mr. Graves saw him and gave him a stern look, already knowing Calls question wouldnt be about math.

“Yes, Callum?” He exhaled, sick of him even though he hadn’t even spoken yet.

”Can I use the bathroom?” Call shuffled in his seat and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling, but the tapping was persistent. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Aaron sigh and frown. It didn’t take a genius to understand where Call planned to go with this.

”Can’t it wait?” Mr. Graves sighed wearily, “I’m in the middle of very detailed instructions. You’ll miss them.”

Call scowled, ”You know I’ll miss them anyway, even if I was in the room, now c’mon I really gotta go!”

Mr. Graves looked considering, eyeing Call like he was some disease-ridden freak. Then he sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose with his pointed and his thumb.

"Fine. But make it quick, do not dawdle," he waved him off and turned back to the board.

Call was already out of his seat and snatching the hall pall before Mr. Graves could even think about finishing his sentence. He shuffled out of that stuffy classroom as fast as his leg would allow. In the hallway, Aarons slightly transparent head popped out of a wall, and he didn't look too pleased. Call hardly spared him a glance as he limped down the staircase, his footsteps audible in the nearly silent hallway

"Can we just be normal for once?" Aaron asked, sounding a bit sad. He’d floated down the steps instead of walking, which Call was jealous of. If he was undead, he’d sure love to go without the constant pain in his left leg.

"You're a ghost. And I can see you. That's not normal, so I doubt normal is something we could even achieve." Call hissed at him, the tapping was pulling him somewhere weird.

Call back tracked. It pulled him like a rope attached to his gut right down into a completely seperate hallway.

A locker door swung open and hit Aaron in the face. Call instinctively flinches, but he passed through it like it was nothing. He appeared to be sulky.

"Well you could at least try and be normal," he muttered.

"Whats that supposed to mean?" Call stopped dead in his tracks and glared in the other boys direction. Aaron held his hands up in surrender. He looked apologetic enough for making Call mad, which irked him a little because Aaron was just too nice.

The thing was, they both knew that Call wasn’t a normal boy and Aarons not a normal ghost. There was an accident, snow and ice, cars screeching, and slipping into darkness. And then Call was whole again, flash forward 13 years, and a ghost soon-to-be best friend showed up in Calls house. (a/n: fix/ ??? dunno if i want this to be canon)

Call turned away, skulking off and letting the tapping pull him away. He doesn't even have to think about where he had to go. He ducked into the library, the librarian was somewhere in the backroom, therefore, she couldn't and wouldn't bother Call. Call slunk in between the rows of books. By now, the tapping was more a thudding. This was probably, no, definitely where he needed to be. Aaron appeared in front of him, bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

“I mean this: have you ever tried to ignore the tapping? Just wait it out?” Aaron crossed his arms, “I know, I know..”

“Do you though?” Call exclaimed, but quickly lowered his voice when he realized where he was, “We’ll be quick, in and out.”

Aaron frowned, “But…”

“In and out.” He repeated.

After contemplating silence, the tension in Aarons body eased and he sighed, “fine. Rule number 9 of friendship, friends don’t leave friends in the Veil.”

“Bingo.” Call shot him quick finger guns.

Behind him, Call reached for light airy fabric. It’s wasn’t actual physical fabric, but it was the only tangible way to describe crossing over into the Veil. He pulled it away and let himself fall. Then it was all black and Call felt sharp cold air pierce his lungs, his fingers turning icy, and his whole body becoming overwhelmingly cold.

And then it was again, Calls was back to his normal self. Except, he wasn’t. Not in the veil. He was slightly more translucent than before, and there’s a glowing blue, almost grey, light inside his chest. Beside him is Aaron, looking more solid than not— however he lacked the glowing light inside, telling Call he is indeed still a—

“Ghost?” Aaron sighed, “You’re thinking a lot today? What’s up?”

“Now is not the time for our therapy sessions,” Call snapped back.

(the ghost is jennifer? idk? canon book was that ghost died in a fire but maybe the bookshelves crushed her / someone pushed the shelves?)

(call goes home. uhhh. oh yeah the medium is constantine this is another alastine au. alastair is like surprise we’re going on vacation to salem and call is Fuck)

the only other notes i had for this was

Salem, Massachusetts

(3 locations minimum:

Burying Point Cemetary,

The Witch House,

Protectors Ledge,

House of the seven Gables,

Rockafellas(I HAVE AN ACTUAL FUNNY IDEA),

The Salem Inn,

Wicked Good Books(Tam), Gallows Hill)

- Ghost boy!Aaron

- Ghost Hunter!Call

- Ghost Hunter!Tamara

- Regular boy!Jasper deWinter that gets dragged along w/ Tamara

- Big bad!Maugris, steals Souls in hopes to get a body because he’s a fucking idiot and doesn’t know that’s Not How It Works LMAOOOO

- one sided calron :( but call doesn’t end up with any one in the end

- this is future ash i don’t remember how aaron died but i think he got murdered? idk it was really really weird. in cassidy blake, jacob (the ghost best friend) drowned to death trying to get smthing for his sibling but. eh. aaron has no siblings)

- deadass remember nothing abt this au. btw don’t remember what the funny idea was for rockafellas im so sad i remember losing it at SOMETHINg

Anyway

YO reblog this shit if you want me to share more of my unfinished ideas / chapters

[imthefailedartist]

There's really only diminishing returns on The Strangers sequels.

It's a small diner with large ass windows. Were you not looking at your car to see if someone went under the hood.

This is why you always stop where there's multiple fast food chains. Especially an Arby's. Not McDonald's! Even the most bum fuck nowhere town has McDonald's, but only towns of select size have Arby's.

With the original, they had stakes because their relationship was fraught. Making them cloyingly happy does nothing. Unless they are going to work extremely hard to keep that happiness. Spoiler alert: they don't even try.

The conflict is right there. She might get a job in a new state. He's a marriage guy she's not a marriage girl.

Spoilers below. . . I guess. It's a "slasher" and the third film. You know what's coming

What was the point of the rude ain't married yet scene if it's not something they're worried about.

10,000 is civilization. 2,000 to 9,000 is small town quaint. 1,000 or less is you naked on all fours and being told to "squeal for me fat boy".

Oh girl, no, he got asthma. He can't protect you, he can't even breathe right.

Why is the town so suspicious.

Creepy stranger continuously ringing doorbell in middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, and hearing creepy sounds procedes to prance around in panties and socks, plays music and smokes weed.

Pants and shoes. Put them on.

Opening the door. Big no no.

Stepping outside even bigger no no.

In ya damn panties.

Put on your Goddamn pants and shoes.

Passes the kitchen butcher block full of knives to hide in the bathroom. "We need weapons."

See I would just burn the cabin down. With all of us in it. Pete just gon have to see my insurance.

Why does this cabin have an upstairs if it's not going to factor into the movie.

Who returns to a dark house and don't call out?

Also, that motorcycle was loud as hell she couldn't hear it.

They are the dumbest.

Under the house was smart. Everything they did after was very dumb.

Too much in-house unseen lurking. It stopped being scary.

They aren't even trying.

What was that, not mormon mormon pamphlet?

Not him trying to gaslight her mere hours after he had a meltdown over the locals allegedly scamming them.

The water bottle. Are you fucking kidding me.

The person who made this clearly doesn't have asthma. He'd have been better off pouring the water on his shirt and breathing through that. And it's quiet.

The music cues. My god, stop.

I knew this movie was going to be bad when it opened with text, implying it was sort of a true story.

But let's be honest. We knew this was going to be bad when the strangers talked in the trailers. My first thought hearing their voices, "Oh, they talk now, that sucks."

Shoot her!!! Why are you talking?

Why the fake out with him coming back being creepy?

They would've been better off sleeping in their car.

These characters are so dumb I truly thought this was a cold beginning à la Scream, for much too long. I'm talking he still hasn't come back from the late night dinner run long.

RIP AirBNB dude. The cabin was nice.

This movie is too big. I don't need to see them stopping at a diner full of weird townsfolk, I don't need to see a mormon, not mormon cult. I don't need to see a motorcycle being blown up. Just get em in the cabin and let the "haunting" begin.

If you're going to show me the town. Him going back to town, specifically, make it count. I thought he was gonna sit for a minute and have a beer all while the Strangers really torture her mentally. For him to come back and find her cowering, and the shit really kicks off.

Why are they so loud. At no point are they quiet.

"They caught us." Yeah, you didn't make it very hard.

Wait a minute. This takes place well after the first one. Why is it chapter one? You know what, don't tell me. I don't care.

Sackmans car is still running. Get in it. Drive.

I need movie characters to understand they'd get a lot further in the woods by walking.

At some point, these characters were so stupid I forgot this movie takes place in modern-day.

I was like, oh yeah, this is the 50's they thought the world was safer.

Do they just stab them one time in the original. Is that how it ended? I guess it was scarier because they really were just there doing this for no reason. This movie makes too many suggestions.

Maybe this is just me being nostalgic for the first one and how I felt watching it. Maybe the couple is just as dumb. Who knows? I haven't watched it in a few years.

What the fuck was that end credit scene? It ain't like they ghosts or demons.

She lived. Okay, so what? It's not like she knows who they are.

I know these characters have to be this dumb on purpose. Why a person would want to base their whole movie around them is beyond me. It does not make an enjoyable watch. Not even for the fun of it, that only works if your characters aren't total dumbasses and the audience is in on the stupid.

There's a way to make your characters so unbelievably dumb that it's fun. But the Strangers franchise is not that place to do that.

[random-conspiracy]

Oh my god, oh my fucking god, GUYS, IT'S HERE, SOMEONE TRANSLATED IT!!! This is peak spanish copypasta shitpost AND IT'S HERE in english!!! READ IT. The rat with thinner

Some time ago, I was renting a flat with one of my cousins, but the bloke was a sexually deranged man. He often came back home with car-washers, natives, orphans, beggars, and even Mexicans directly from the railroads.

My cousin, out of goodwill, fed them, let them shower, and even sometimes gave them clothes and shoes; but with the condition of having sex or at least receiving oral sex. I admit that at first, I disliked the idea and preferred to lock myself in my room, listening to music, hitting my joint—anything but smelling the tramps. But my cousin was bringing more and more fucked-up junkies, spoiled and crazy fuckers, and he asked me to take care of him if they became aggressive, besides he gets too dunked when on poppers.

I accepted reluctantly, but I have to admit I got used to watching my cousin being drilled by bums without rubber lmao. Once I was in the kitchen when my cousin arrived, and I got a really fucked-up stink. I initially thought he had brought home a corpse or something, but when I looked up, I saw he had the most fucked-up drug fiend deadbeat. Filthy, lousy, with his hair made into dreadlocks of blood and shit, shaky, and with a lost look, dressed in a mud-hardened jacket.

We gave him instant ramen, and meanwhile, he was eating, I told my cousin, "Shiiit, you went too far," and he just said, "Haha, I know." Then, the shithead puts a hand in his jacket, and I almost took out my twenty-two. But no, he only brought out a fucking giant dead rat, soaked it in paint thinner, and snorted it like a puff.

I said, "Holy shit, what the heck?" but somehow my cousin got fucking horny and he started to blow him without bathing him. The hobo was there, legs open, “mousing him up,” and my cousin was already taking off his pants and plucking him out. He was so big, maybe even his scepter would be rich without the coats of smegma and crabs that adorned his pubic hair. My cousin gulped him entirely and I didn’t know whether to turn on or puke, so I opted for smoking some weed.

My cousin, concupiscent, took all of his clothes off and offered his ass to the vagrant, and he, without thinking twice, started to lick it. My bottom cousin was in pure ecstasy, in a state of trance at feeling his ass pampered by the mouth of the drifter. Eventually, he shoved his big ass shaft, diamond hard without protection, making my cousin moan and scream like a dying cow, all of it while on poppers.

They were “tunneling the cave,” when the dude brought out his rat again, hit it profusely and—wham!—shoved it in the butt of my cousin.

Sheesh.

He kept pumping it harder, pushing the rat more and more deeply inside my cousin. It was an intercourse getting feral increasingly. After a while, with my cousin dripping in cum, the bum pulled out his flaccid weenie, ate all the ramen, and started yelling at me. I didn’t know what he was gibbering, and I was high AF, so I just pointed my gun at him and sent him off. The dude whited out so quickly that he forgot his pants on the floor, and I just stayed there napping.

An hour later, I was woken up by the shrieks of my cousin. He was sobbing that his ass and guts were hurting, he didn’t even remember what he did with his lover hehe. I helped him get to the toilet to shit the cramped cum and—HOLY SHIT—he farted out the whole rat, but butchered and dripping in maggots. He almost passed out and asked me to take him to the hospital to have his guts washed.

But he was feeling so brave in his horniness, hehe I swear it’s true.

-Traslated by Umeboshi

[rindecisions]

St. Patrick's Day '85 You Know Where to Find Me Part 2

Explicit | 10k First Blowjob | Chance Meeting

Find the rest and more here

Part 1 | Valentine's Day

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

“Do I really have to do this?” Eddie complained as Wayne fixed the bowtie to the impressively green suit he was forced to wear.

“Yes,” Wayne stated simply. “I told ‘em I would months ago before I got swapped to the night shift, so you’ll have to do it in my stead.”

“You agreed to it, not me,” he grumbled.

“Quit yer bitchin’. If you’re gonna act a fool, might as well look like one.” Wayne put a green velvet top hat on him and stepped back to give Eddie a look over. He was in a slightly oversized dark green faux velvet suit with gold clover details around the trim. The legs of the pants cinched just under his knee, showing off his white nylon-clad calves. His shoes were shiny black with a gold buckle that matched the one on the top hat.

Eddie took off the hat. “So, this is a punishment now?”

“How many times has Jim dropped you off in the last three months?” Wayne stated firmly.

“I don’t keep track of that shit,” Eddie squinted grumpily.

“Five, Eddie. Five. Be grateful he hasn’t locked your ass up.” He took the last accessory out of the bag, a false red beard and mustache combo that hooked over the ears.

“No,” Eddie whined. “I’ll wear the fucking hat, but I draw the line at ginger face pubes.”

“Eddie…” Wayne warned.

“Wayne!” Eddie pleaded. “Come on, isn’t this ridiculous enough?” He gestured at his costume.

“Just be glad I’m not forcing you to wear a wig or spray your hair red.” He hooked the beard over Eddie’s ears, finding amusement in his expression. It reminded him of a pissed-off black cat.

“The fact that this is in another town is the only reason I’m even kind of okay with this. If anyone from Hellfire sees me, I’ll never live this shit down. I’ll forever be a goddamn halfling bard to them.”

Wayne shook his head, having no idea what Eddie was talking about. “It’s pretty unlikely you’ll see anyone from Hawkins.”

“Let’s fucking hope.” He put the hat on and glared at Wayne.

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Eddie was tasked with handing out gold and green plastic bead necklaces as people entered the festival. He took off the beard as soon as he pulled out of the trailer park and kept it tucked in his suit jacket. He plastered on a fake smile with dead eyes as he put the cheap jewelry over the heads of everyone that passed him. After a few minutes, he started trying to have fun with it and said various bad puns in his best attempt at an Irish accent. A familiar voice caught his attention, and he went pale as a ghost. No… He glanced up to see Steve Harrington paying the entry fee. Quickly, he fumbled for his beard and put it on by the time Steve arrived in front of him. His attempt at saying ‘Let’s shamrock and roll’ as he put a gold necklace over his head came out closer to “Le shmark a rall.” It sounded so far from English that he just hoped Steve thought he was speaking Gaelic or something. He tried not to visibly cringe when Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

“You… too?” Steve looked very confused before heading into the fairgrounds.

Eddie watched Steve’s ass walk away in his usual tight jeans. As soon as Steve was out of earshot, Eddie cursed at himself and returned to handing out the necklaces. He was just glad that Steve didn’t seem to notice him, but now he had to keep the stupid beard on.

After about an hour, the crowd petered away, and the staff relocated Eddie to waiting tables at the pub. He was relieved that Steve Didn’t show up, or anyone else that he knew for that matter. There were a couple times Steve passed by the outdoor seating area and every time, Eddie made sure to hide before he could be seen. There was no way he was letting Steve Harrington see him in this ridiculous outfit.

It was getting close to sunset and Eddie bummed a smoke from the bartender before taking a break out back. He took off the hat and beard before leaning against the back wall of the building, watching the pop-up rides in the distance. Eddie found it comically dangerous to have rides running on a holiday for people to get smashed, but a large portion of the attendees were children and their families.

A rustling nearby caught his attention, and he looked over to see three men roughly his same age walking up. Each one was plastered with the same familiar grin. An expression that Eddie had coined ‘the face of overcompensation’. He took a long drag of his cigarette and tossed it to the ground, snuffing it with his shoe before they got too close.

The one Eddie assumed was the leader spoke first. “Aren’t you a bit big for a leprechaun?” The other two snickered.

Eddie stared at them flatly. “Aren’t you a bit big for your dick?” It wasn’t his best comeback, but he didn’t have the energy to be clever.

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Steve wandered the fair. He’d gone there originally to see if maybe the out-of-town girls would respond to him a bit better, but he should have expected that most of the people there would either be couples, families, or men trying to get drunk. With a heavy sigh, he started to walk toward the exit when he heard a familiar voice. Eddie? He followed the voice and as he got closer; it was more obvious that Eddie was in some form of an altercation. A hint of worry built up in him and he picked up his pace, hurrying behind the bar-turned-pub.

He got there just in time to see a slender man in a green suit dodge a punch and sweep the leg of his attacker, toppling him to the ground. “Eddie?” He said without thinking.

Eddie looked over with panicked eyes at hearing Steve’s voice. The distraction got him socked in the jaw. He stumbled to the side, groaning, and elbowed the man in the nose. A metallic flavor filled Eddie’s mouth as he ducked under another punch. He fell on his ass when he saw the man that just tried to swing at him get punched square in the mouth by Steve. He wished he had time to process just how hot that was before spitting the blood from his mouth and jumping back into the fight. As Eddie dodged fists, Steve used the opening to land whatever blow he could manage.

Eddie wasn’t their only target now, and when he saw one aiming a fist toward Steve’s perfect face, he kicked the man in the ribs. Steve smirked at him in thanks. Together, they had two of their attackers on the ground, and Eddie landed the last blow to the leader’s cheekbone. He shook his hand as the man stumbled away.

“Come on, man!” One of the others called, already leaving the area. The leader glared at them and spat blood in their direction before following his friends.

Steve glanced over at Eddie, who was shaking the pain from his hand. The beginnings of a bruise had already formed on his jawline, and he had blood on his lips. “You alright?” Steve asked.

Eddie groaned. Now that the fight was over, he had to face Steve, looking like this. “Yeah…”

“You held your own pretty damn well. I’m surprised,” Steve chuckled.

“Not my first fight,” he said plainly, leaning against the wall.

“I could tell.” He glanced at the mark on Eddie’s chin, walking closer to him.

Eddie tensed slightly as Steve approached. “Didn’t seem like yours either.”

Steve huffed a small laugh. “Far from, but we need to get some ice on that,” Steve tapped his own face where Eddie was hit. “Or it’s going to swell like a motherfucker.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed. “I can probably grab some from the bar.” He pushed himself off the wall, flinching when Steve placed a hand on his chest, keeping him in place.

“I’ll get it. Wait here,” Steve said with a soft smile before leaving.

Eddie watched Steve walk away and smiled to himself, leaning against the wall and looking up at the sky. He sighed and let gravity pull him to the ground.

It wasn’t long before Steve came back with a bag of ice and a can of soda. He knelt down in front of Eddie and placed the ice pack on his chin.

”Thanks,” Eddie said sincerely, placing his hand on the bag of ice to support it.

Steve’s heart jumped when Eddie’s hand rested on his. He leaned forward an inch and froze, an electricity danced over his skin as he swallowed and glanced away, removing his hand.

Eddie noticed, and his heart took up residence in his throat. Did Steve almost kiss him? In public?

“Don’t mention it. I’m at least a little to blame for that.” Steve popped open the can of soda.

Eddie blinked and swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’re entirely to blame,” he teased with a smirk.

Steve groaned and handed him the can. “Sorry.”

Eddie took it and softened his smirk. “But seriously, thanks for the help.” He washed the taste of blood out of his mouth. “Hmm,” he hummed contemplatively, looking at the can of soda. “Blood and Coke mix well together.”

Steve chuckled, leaning back on his wrists in front of Eddie.

“What d’you think, Harrington? Think it would sell?” He altered his voice to match a commercial. “All new, Bloody Coca-Cola.”

Steve laughed. “Somehow, I doubt that would be very popular.”

Eddie smiled at Steve’s laugh and shrugged, taking another drink. “I’d buy it. I mean that Cherry flavor they released last month is going nuts.”

Steve shook his head. “But what happened?”

Eddie glanced over at him. “You mean the fight?”

“Yeah.”

“Just the usual. I was minding my own damn business, and some jackasses decided to pick a fight.” He finished off the can and leaned his head against the wall, holding the ice to his face. “So much for leprechauns being lucky.”

“Seriously,” Steve laughed. “Why are you here wearing that, anyway*?*”

Eddie groaned dramatically. “My uncle. He agreed to help with this event as a favor to his friend but ended up having to work, so he pushed it on me. Trust me, I don’t want to be here, especially wearing this shit.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I’d say today is not your lucky day.”

Eddie looked at Steve. “Why are you here, anyway? Meeting a girl?”

“No, unfortunately,” he sighed. “Came here looking for a date, actually. No luck on my end either, by the looks of it.”

Eddie licked his lip as he thought, wincing when he ran over the small split on his lower lip. Did he want to push his luck with Steve again? A grin spread over his face. “You see,” he said smoothly, “I’ve heard that if you want luck on St. Patrick’s Day, you have to catch and kiss a leprechaun.”

Steve’s face fell in surprise at Eddie hitting on him so blatantly. His heart thumped in his chest. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about their last encounter a month ago. In fact, he hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind. Was it the same for Eddie? He bit his lip and decided to play along. “And where do you suppose I could find a leprechaun?”

Eddie quirked his brow and squinted at Steve. He set the ice pack on the ground next to him and picked up the ridiculous top hat, slamming it on his head. “Oi,” he said softly in a rather impressive Irish accent. “Ya going to kiss this leprechaun or not?”

Steve burst into laughter and glanced around, making sure no one was in sight before crawling up to Eddie and taking the kiss. His chest tightened, making it hard to pull away. When he did, there was a faint redness to Eddie’s cheeks that wasn’t caused by getting punched.

Eddie sighed and rested his head back against the wall, taking the hat off. “I missed that.”

“Same,” Steve chuckled, sitting against the wall next to Eddie. They were close enough that their hips and the sides of their leg were flush with each other.

Eddie looked over in shock. “Re—really?”

“Yeah,” Steve glanced over at him and raised his eyebrow when he noticed that he’d taken the ice off. He reached across Eddie’s lap to grab the ice pack, stealing another kiss as he did.

Eddie tensed at the close proximity, but leaned into the kiss, his split lip stinging slightly on contact.

“Keep this on.” Steve placed the bag of ice on Eddie’s chin and stared at his lips for a few solid seconds before sitting back on the wall.

“O—okay,” Eddie said tentatively as he supported the bag. Had Steve really been thinking about kissing him over this last month? He didn’t think that making out and hand jobs would have any impact on someone like Steve, someone that was known for getting around. Maybe doing it with a guy made it stand out a bit more. “Hey,” Eddie said softly, nudging Steve’s knee with his own and glancing over at him. “Want to get out of here?”

“And go where?” Steve furrowed his brow as he looked over at Eddie.

Eddie shrugged and leaned into Steve’s shoulder. “My place?”

Steve smiled and turned his head, placing their faces in kissing range. His heart thumped in his chest. “Would we be alone?”

Eddie turned his head a little more and licked his lips. “Yeah…” He said with a faint nod. The pull to kiss him was almost too strong. Steve was right there, and the smallest twitch would connect their lips. They were still technically in public, so he held himself back.

“Good.” Steve took the small lunge forward and pressed their lips together. Eddie gasped and shivered as soon as their lips met. He let the bag of ice fall and placed the chilled hand on Steve’s cheek. Steve turned his body to face Eddie and leaned more into it. When he pulled back, they were both panting. “Let’s get out of here.”

Eddie nodded and stood. “Do you know where Forest Hills Trailer Park is?”

“Yeah,” Steve stood as well. “It’s pretty close to my place.”

“I’m in lot 53. It’s a rundown piece of shit, but at least it’s a roof, right?” Eddie shrugged, realizing that a rich boy like Steve may hate going to a trailer park. “If you’d rather go somewhere a bit nicer, I’m fine with that, too.” He awkwardly glanced away.

Steve smiled and stepped closer to Eddie, taking a quick glance around as he did. “All I care about is that we don’t have to worry about prying eyes.” He placed his hands on Eddie’s waist and pulled him into a brief kiss. He smiled at the silly outfit as he stepped back.

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie grumbled, noticing Steve examining his suit.

“It’s cute,” Steve chuckled.

Eddie furrowed his brow, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult.

Steve’s eyes hooded as he smirked and glanced over Eddie’s body. “But I look forward to getting you out of it.”

Eddie’s jaw fell slack at Steve’s words. “Yeah…” Eddie took a deep breath. “Let’s get out of here,” he said quickly, turning around and starting to walk away.

Steve hurried after him, grabbed his wrist, and spun him into his arms, taking one more firm kiss. “See you in a few.” He enjoyed Eddie’s startled expression for a couple seconds before letting him go and walking away.

Eddie stood there dumbfounded for nearly a full minute without a thought in his mind. He shook himself out of his daze and headed toward the entrance. He froze and ran back for the hat and beard he left behind the bar. A thought crossed his mind, and he snuck in the back door of the bar, grabbing a six-pack of green beer before hurrying to his van.

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When Eddie arrived at his trailer, Steve was already in his driveway, leaning against his BMW, smoking. Eddie took in the attractive sight before stepping out of his van. He sighed in disbelief when Steve smiled at him while taking a drag. “Hope you weren’t waiting long,” Eddie said as he approached.

“Nah, haven’t even finished my—”

Eddie took the cigarette out of Steve’s fingers and put it between his own lips. Steve smirked as he watched Eddie take a drag. “Come on.” Eddie nodded toward his trailer, letting the smoke freely flow from his mouth. He walked up the concrete steps and unlocked the door, stepping back to let Steve in first. He lightly chewed on the cigarette filter as he watched Steve’s ass walk into his living room. Once Steve was in, Eddie skipped up behind him, shutting the door. “Welcome to the Munson Castle.” Watching Steve look around opened his eyes to just how run down and messy it was. He started to feel a bit insecure about it. “If you think this is bad, wait ‘till you see my room.”

Steve smirked, watching Eddie take another hit off his cigarette. “Lead the way.”

Seeing no signs of disgust from Steve made him feel a little more comfortable.

Steve’s eyes landed on the green cardboard carrier in Eddie’s hand with six bottles in it. He squinted at it. “Where did you get those?”

Eddie grinned and held up the six-pack. “Consider it my compensation for helping at the fair.”

“A.K.A. You stole it.”

“No,” he chimed sarcastically. “Why would I ever do a thing like that?” He glanced over Steve’s body before walking past the kitchen and down the small hallway.

Steve chuckled and shook his head, following Eddie. He whistled when he walked into the room. “You weren’t kidding. Did a tornado run through here?”

“Told ya.” Eddie set the six-pack on one of his amps and pinched the cigarette in his teeth. He started unbuttoning the green velvet jacket.

“Woah,” Steve said, placing a hand on Eddie’s, startling him. “Not so fast.”

“I want to get out of this shit,” Eddie said around the cigarette. “I’m not trying to be sexy.”

Steve took the cigarette from Eddie’s mouth and quickly took its place. Eddie sighed into the kiss, sliding his hands over Steve’s hips. He grunted when Steve pressed his tongue through his lips. The invasion made his whole body light up. Steve leaned back, smirking as Eddie followed him. “Maybe I want to be the one to take it off of you.” He took a long drag of the mostly gone cigarette and held it in his lungs as he leaned forward. When Eddie parted his lips to accept a kiss, he blew the smoke into his mouth before locking them together.

Eddie swooned and gripped his hips, eagerly wrestling his tongue with Steve’s. There was a slight pain from where he bit his tongue when he got punched, and a sting from the split in his lip, but nowhere near enough for him to back out. He couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington was in his room, let alone that he was making out with him, again. He could almost forget he was wearing a leprechaun costume. Steve stepped back, took the last drag, and put the butt out in one of the many ashtrays in the room. Eddie tensed when Steve shot him a hungry glance. “Uh,” he swallowed. “You’re a lot more forward than last time,” he said nervously as Steve approached.

“I’ve had some time to think,” he said coolly, placing his hands on Eddie’s velvet-clad shoulders and sliding them down his biceps. “I’ve decided what we did wasn’t a big deal.” He slid his hands over Eddie’s elbows and onto his waist, pulling him closer. “And that I wanted more.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped at Steve’s words, confirming that he’d been thinking about him over this last month. He grunted when Steve occupied his open mouth and started unbuttoning the suit jacket where Eddie left off. He placed his hands back on Steve’s hips and let himself enjoy the feeling of their tongues tangling.

After Steve got the last button open, he ran his hands up Eddie’s chest and shoved them under the collar, gripping the back of Eddie’s neck and pushing their kiss deeper. He felt Eddie grip his hips tighter and lean into it. If their mouths were any closer, they’d end the night with more bruises. Eddie was so lost in Steve’s mouth that he didn’t care about the split on his lip opening. He jumped when Steve pushed the jacket over his shoulders and down to his elbows. He didn’t fight as the jacket was pulled free of his arms and tossed aimlessly to the floor, leaving him in a white dress shirt and dark green velvet pants.

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s narrow waist, holding him tightly in the kiss before pushing on his chest. Eddie shouted in surprise as he fell backward onto his mattress. Being on his bed while looking up at Steve, who was staring lustfully back at him with an obvious bulge in his pants, helped set things more into reality. When Steve said he wanted ‘more’, what exactly did he mean? How much was ‘more’? He gasped and tensed as Steve crawled over him.

Eddie’s nervous, wide-eyed expression amused Steve and made it hard to resist teasing him. He grabbed the collar of the dress shirt, getting another small gasp and a yip as he wrenched on it, forcing their mouths together. Keeping in the kiss, Steve started unbuttoning the white dress shirt. The idea that Steve Harrington was undressing him made Eddie's head spin. He'd thought about undressing Steve many times, but he never thought about the reverse.

When Steve got to the last available button, he leaned out of the kiss and straddled Eddie's lap, pulling the rest of the shirt free of the green pants so he could access the last buttons.

Eddie swallowed nervously as he watched Steve open the last button and fling the shirt open, revealing his entire chest and stomach. “You sure you're not drunk?” Eddie asked anxiously. “Last time you had to be drunk and high to be even a little forward.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“I’m completely sober.” Steve smiled and ran his hands up Eddie's bare chest.

He shivered at Steve's touch. “You... you can fix that,” he suggested, looking past Steve and at the untouched beers.

Steve glanced over his shoulder at them and smiled when he returned to staring at the nervous Eddie. “Nah, I want to enjoy you with a clear head this time.”

Enjoy…me? Eddie was floored by that statement. Steve may want to do this sober, but Eddie wished he was smashed and high on whatever substance he could get his hands on. He sighed at the pleasant feeling of Steve exploring his chest.

“I knew you'd have tattoos.” Steve chuckled and ran his fingers over the demon face on his pec.

Eddie smiled and relaxed a little. The dress shirt fell off of one shoulder. “That was actually my first tattoo.” He watched Steve's fingers press into his decorated skin.

“Does it mean anything?”

“Not really.” He shrugged. “I got it when I turned 16. It was the only present I ever directly asked my uncle for.” He chuckled airily. “I'm still surprised he let me.”

“Why that design, though?” He placed his whole palm under it, cupping Eddie's pec, and gently pressed his hand into it.

Eddie swallowed and took a deep, uneasy breath. “It was one from their catalog. I just thought it looked cool.”

Steve chuckled and ran his palm from Eddie's pec to his waist. “You're a surprisingly simple creature.”

Eddie snorted. “Did you expect me to be deep?”

“You have a point,” Steve laughed, rubbing his thumb over Eddie's ribs. “What about the spider?” He glanced at the black widow by his collarbone.

“That one's…” he trailed off as Steve tightened his grip on his waist and moved their faces close. “My…” His breath got heavier as Steve slowly approached. “Newest…” He tilted his head as Steve did the same. “You don't actually care, do you?” he asked with a smile, their lips on the brink of touching.

“Not particularly,” Steve answered honestly and pressed their lips together, tongues soon to follow.

Eddie pushed into the kiss, letting himself take Steve's affection as it was given. He shook his shoulders, getting the other side of the shirt to drop. He sat up, pushing Steve along by his mouth, and took the shirt off the rest of the way. After he discarded it to the abyss of his bedroom floor, he wrapped an arm around Steve's neck, holding him in the kiss as he slid a hand under the hem of his pale green polo.

Steve hummed into the kiss at Eddie’s touch, smirking when he felt the callouses against his skin. He firmly pushed on Eddie’s chest, sending him back to the bed. His smirk intensified as he gazed down at the shirtless man between his legs. Why wasn’t it weird? Why was he so attracted to this man? Why was he attracted to a man at all? Regardless of the reason, he was.

Eddie propped himself up onto his elbows and looked up at Steve. His jaw dropped as he witnessed a fantasy come true. Steve was taking his shirt off while on top of him. He huffed at the sight. He couldn’t count the number of times he had been in this exact spot thinking about this exact thing, without the leprechaun pants, of course. Steve was stripping, and he was stripping for him. He was almost convinced he had to be dreaming.

Steve pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Eddie's awestruck expression made him smirk. “What? Never seen a man shirtless before?”

“The last time a shirtless man was this close, he was trying to punch my lights out and he was nowhere near as hot as you.” Eddie eagerly scanned Steve's chest and the fade of hair over his sternum.

Steve chuckled and fell forward, placing a hand on either side of Eddie's head and enjoying his startled expression. “Well, I don't plan to punch your lights out.”

“That's good,” Eddie said quicker and higher than he intended. “What… do you plan to do?” he asked softly, examining every detail of Steve's face.

Steve smiled and bent his arms, lowering himself. “What do you want me to do?”

Eddie's breath got heavier as he anticipated the kiss Steve was suggesting. “You can do whatever the fuck you want to me, Harrington.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Steve teased.

“Get me a goddamn pen,” Eddie said in a serious tone.

Steve laughed and finally connected their lips. Eddie groaned and wrapped an arm around Steve’s bare back, enjoying his soft skin. He hummed as Steve slid his hands into his hair, tensing as one of the hands moved to his waist. He put more force into the kiss and pulled on Steve’s back, forcing their chests together. A sharp gasp escaped him as Steve moved the hand from his waist and to the black pleather belt.

Eddie’s fingers pressed into Steve’s back as his anxiety increased. Eddie’s trembling was somewhat charming to Steve. The fingers pressed harder into his back and Eddie desperately wrestled their tongues when Steve unclasped the belt. Eddie clenched his eyes tightly at the feeling of Steve popping the button on the velvet pants. Why is this so much scarier sober? Steve pulling down his zipper was as far as he could handle. “Steve!” Eddie gasped, leaning out of the kiss and looking up at him, terrified.

“You okay?” Steve asked, lifting himself to arm's length over Eddie.

“Ye—yeah,” Eddie sighed, pulling himself out from under Steve. “I just…” He glanced over Steve’s concerned face. “I need a drink.”

Steve chuckled and sat up, letting Eddie get off the bed and walk over to the six-pack. He watched him pick up the cardboard carrier and set it on the end table, sitting heavily on the bed. He pulled one out and stared at it in shock.

“What’s up?” Steve asked with his brows furrowed.

“Whoops,” Eddie chuckled. “I thought I grabbed a pack of those cheap-ass dyed beers. Turns out someone swapped them out for Guinness.” He held up the bottle as proof.

“Shit,” Steve laughed.

Eddie shrugged and placed his hand over the top of the bottle, and popped it open.

Steve furrowed his brow, confused how Eddie managed that without a bottle opener. “How’d you do that?”

Eddie looked over at him mid-chug. He removed the bottle from his mouth with a gasp. “I used the back of my ring.” He turned his hand around and ran his thumb over the ring on his middle finger. He took another long drink. “Damn, it’s rare for me to get the good shit,” He said as he stared at the bottle in his hand.

“Maybe it is your lucky day,” Steve smirked.

Eddie leaned back on his hand and smiled at Steve. “I do have you in my bed, don’t I?”

Steve crawled up behind Eddie and ran his hands over his shoulders, receiving a sigh. “Then why did you run away just before I got to the good part?” He pushed Eddie’s hair aside and kissed his neck.

Eddie gripped the mostly empty bottle in his hand, shuddering at the foreign sensation. “Can you blame me for being nervous?” He downed the last of the beer and set it on the end table, sighing as Steve kissed over his bare shoulder.

Steve chuckled and stroked Eddie’s biceps. “You really are a virgin, aren’t you?”

“You mocking me, Harrington?” Eddie asked in offense, picking up another bottle and popping the cap with the back of his ring.

“I’m not the one running away from a blowjob.”

Eddie choked on his beer. “What!?” he snapped through his coughing fit.

“You said I could do what I want.” Steve smirked as Eddie caught his breath and looked at him in disbelief.

“And that’s what you—” a cough interrupted him. “That’s what you want?”

Steve smiled and stared at his lips. A few drops of beer clung to them from his coughing fit. He shrugged. When Eddie licked his lips, it snapped his attention away. “I’ve gotten so many. I’m curious what it’s like to give one.”

“Seriously?” Eddie skeptically looked at Steve’s coy face.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Why? Is that weird?”

Eddie raised his eyebrow at him and took a quick drink before tentatively saying, “I feel like you should find it weird.”

Steve shook his head in amusement. “Eddie.” He tilted his head to the side with a gentle smile. “I don’t care that you’re a man.”

“I have a hard time believing that.” He squinted at him from the corner of his eyes as he chugged a portion of his beer.

“I guess I’ll just have to prove it,” Steve said smoothly.

Eddie chugged faster, finishing the beer just in time for Steve to take the empty bottle from him. He watched Steve reach across him to set it on the end table before turning back and pressing into a kiss, shoving his tongue through their lips. The Guinness blended oddly well with him. Eddie sighed and placed a hand on Steve's waist, gripping it gently as he leaned in.

He gasped as Steve ran a palm up his chest, caressing and massaging as he explored. A small laugh was forced from Eddie at Steve's fingertips inadvertently tickling his stomach. Steve smiled and enjoyed feeling the muscles flex under his hand. He almost wanted to tickle him more, but decided to stay goal-oriented.

Eddie's eyes popped open, and he nearly shouted when Steve shoved his hand into the open velvet dress pants. He put more force into the kiss and gripped Steve's side tightly. The arm he was using to support himself trembled, and his fingers dug into the blanket as Steve started stroking his dick over his boxers. Ungracefully, Eddie moved the hand from Steve's waist to the back of his neck, pulling their faces closer. As embarrassing as it was, he was unable to stop his hips from moving.

Steve gently bit Eddie's upper lip as he slid his hand into his underwear and pulled out the erection. He enjoyed Eddie's shuddered moan and tightened grip on his hair. He increased Eddie's volume by gripping him tightly and pumping a few fast strokes.

Eddie gasped as Steve stood and removed the hand from his pants. He looked up at him and watched as he moved to stand between his legs. He huffed when he saw the bulge in Steve’s pants nearly at eye level, swallowing at the lewd thoughts that crossed his mind.

Steve swept his foot over the rust-colored carpet, pushing a Heavy Metal magazine, an empty cigarette pack, and a crushed beer can out of the way of his knees. Eddie’s eyes widened in complete disbelief at Steve kneeling in front of him. This is actually happening. He flinched when Steve placed his hands on his knees and ran them up the dark velvet. The silly pants took Eddie out of it.

“Can I at least take the rest of the costume off first?” He glanced to the side, having a hard time meeting Steve’s lustful gaze.

“Sure,” Steve chuckled and beat Eddie to the belt of the pants. He kissed over his stomach as he pulled the pants down, boxers included. He enjoyed the erratic flexing of Eddie’s abs under his lips and his soft, involuntary laughs.

Eddie took a deep breath and leaned back on his hands, lifting his hips so Steve could strip him. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that it was Steve that was stripping him and just wished the booze would kick in already. He didn’t want to be drunk; he just didn’t want to be able to think so clearly. Everything Steve did was anxiety-inducing, mainly because all of it was new. Every kiss, every touch, every glance… it was all unfamiliar and overwhelming.

When Steve wasn’t looking at him, he wanted to take every ounce of affection Steve offered and even give it in return, but as soon as those large brown puppy eyes met his, he wanted to turn invisible and run away. Was he allowed to react? Was it okay for him to touch Steve in the ways he wanted to? His heart punched him in the chest when Steve looked up at him. The desire to disappear crept back in.

Eddie’s nervous expression wasn’t one Steve was unfamiliar with. Most of the women he’d slept with were virgins. Were. So, he assumed Eddie’s anxiety was similar. What threw him off, though, was that he wasn’t sure the usual tricks would work on a man. The idea of calling him beautiful and treating him like he would break at the slightest misstep felt weird. He didn’t really know how to treat a man in this situation. He continued pulling down Eddie’s pants as he thought, finding it weird that he didn’t find it weird to be staring at a dick less than a foot from his face. He assumed Eddie’s nerves really had a hold on him, as he wasn’t very hard, far from flaccid, but far from erect as well. He tried to think of what to do as he pulled Eddie’s buckled black dress shoes off, followed by his pants.

Steve looked gorgeous as he undressed him. Eddie watched his bare arms and back flex with his every motion. After Steve tossed aside the pants and shoes, the only article of clothing left was the knee-high white socks. Steve stared up at him as he ran his hands up his shins until they were on his knees. Eddie swallowed and watched Steve wrap both hands around one calf, pressing his chest seductively to his shin, keeping a pleading look in his eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the top elastic of the sock. He maintained eye contact and kissed Eddie’s knee. Little by little, he pulled the sock down, kissing his leg as it was exposed.

Eddie raised his eyebrow at the strange, yet still very attractive sight. Steve made his way to Eddie’s ankle and pulled the sock over his heel, kissing his way onto the top of his foot. He grunted when the foot he’d just released from the sock was pressed against his face, pushing him away.

“Dude!” Eddie snapped. “Don’t kiss my fucking feet, that’s gross.”

“Then can you get it off my face?” His voice was muffled by the foot on his cheek. Eddie removed his foot and grimaced at the thought. Steve chuckled and shrugged. “Some women like it.”

“I’m not a woman…” Eddie said simply as he let Steve take the other sock off normally.

“You don’t say?” Steve said sarcastically, pressing his hand on Eddie’s mostly limp dick, getting a gasp, a full body tense, and a strong flex of the cock under his palm.

Eddie looked down at Steve’s unfazed expression. “You really don’t care, do you?” His breath had already started to get heavier.

“No, not really.” He wrapped his hand around the dick and started stroking, enjoying the feeling of it swelling in his palm and Eddie sighing in pleasure.

Steve being so casual about it helped calm Eddie a little, even if he had a hard time wrapping his mind around the situation. Which could be, at least partially, due to the blood rapidly leaving his brain. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, losing himself in the feeling of Steve’s soft hand. He panted softly. At least this time, he felt like he would last a little longer. That idea flipped on its head as soon as Eddie felt Steve lick up the shaft. “Fuck!” he shouted and looked down to see Steve smiling up at him from under his dick, mouth open and tongue out.

Steve chuckled. “Why so shocked? I told you I wanted to blow you.”

“I just…” he panted. “I can’t believe you were serious.”

Steve kept his eyes locked on Eddie’s as he dramatically licked from the base to the head. The only thing that prevented Eddie from going cross-eyed at the foreign feeling was his desire to watch Steve in this once-in-a-lifetime position. He wanted to take in every detail of Steve’s expression, the way his cheeks had flushed a deeper pink, same with his lips, the way his eyes seemed to dilate and gain an unfocused appearance, and the way his dense, warm breath flowed over his cock. It was a sight he’d dreamed about, but seeing the real thing was something else entirely. He shifted all of his weight to one hand and risked running his hand through Steve’s thick hair. Steve’s faint hum at the contact vibrated through his dick, making him groan softly. A fog started clouding his mind. Now the beer kicks in.

The feeling of a dick on his tongue was far more enjoyable than Steve expected. It was unrealistically soft, especially the head. It was an attractive warmth, and there was an indescribable scent that made his head spin. Is this what the women he’d been with experienced? He licked his lips and lined them up with the head of Eddie’s dick. He continued to stroke the shaft as he pressed his lips against it. His heart raced as he parted them and lowered his mouth onto it. Eddie groaned loudly and tightened his grip on his hair. Steve felt an electricity on his skin at the feeling of the dick flexing against his tongue.

It took everything Eddie had to not push on Steve’s head. The feeling of his warm mouth was insane as it gently sucked on him. He knew blowjobs had to feel good, but this was otherworldly and beyond anything he could have imagined. He caught himself trying to push on Steve again and took his hand off of his head, putting it back on the bed to support himself. His whole body broke out in goosebumps when Steve looked up at him. Damn, he looks good with a dick in his mouth… With my dick in his… Eddie felt dizzy just from the thought, let alone actually experiencing it. He was irritated that he wasn’t going to last much longer. He didn’t want it to end so soon.

Steve closed his eyes and indulged in letting himself enjoy blowing Eddie. The feeling of it gliding over his tongue, filling his mouth, and teasing the back of his throat was almost addicting. He flinched when he felt a quiver up the underside. Was he close? He increased his suction and speed, gripping the base a little tighter. Eddie’s panting and moaning got louder. He could tell Eddie was holding back, thrusting his hips. A part of him wished he wouldn’t.

Eddie gripped the blanket under his hands and panted as he watched Steve through hooded eyes. “Shit,” he hissed when he felt a surge of warmth. “Steve, I—”

Steve glanced up at his name. As soon as their eyes met, Eddie groaned loudly and rolled his eyes up, twisting the blanket in his hands. Steve grunted in shock when he felt a flood of cum fill his mouth. He pulled back, and the rest hit him in the face. Eddie took a deep relieved breath and froze when he saw the mess he’d made of Steve, who was sitting there with his mouth open, cheeks, lips, and chin covered in cum, his cum. He huffed as a bit dripped from Steve’s lip and onto his chest.

The feeling and flavor of the cum in his mouth was beyond nasty, making Steve gag. He looked around for anything to spit into and grabbed the empty cigarette box he pushed aside. Quickly, he spat the semen out into the carton. “Fuck, that’s gross!” He spat into it again. “I think I’ll take one of those beers now.”

Eddie shook off his daze and grabbed one of the bottles, popping it open with his ring, and handed it to Steve, who took it and chugged. Eddie watched in awe as some of his cum dripped down Steve’s neck and onto his collarbone.

Steve gasped as he removed the bottle from his mouth. “No wonder women never want to swallow that shit.” He wiped his arm over his mouth and cringed when he smeared cum over it. “Where’s your bathroom?” he groaned as he stood.

Eddie swallowed, just realizing he was staring with his mouth open. “Uh, yeah.” He shook his head and stood, pointing toward his door. “First door on the left.”

“Thanks,” he grunted in disgust.

Eddie’s heart punched him when he saw the bulge in Steve’s pants with a small, dark, wet spot near the head of his dick. As soon as Steve left the room, Eddie fell back onto his bed and stared blankly at his ceiling.

Not only had he just gotten his first blowjob, but it was by Steve Harrington, the last person he ever would have expected to be okay with it. His head spun, recalling the image of Steve’s face painted with his semen. It was an image he hoped would burn itself into his brain, and he knew for a fact he’d be using that memory in the future. Slowly, he came down from the afterglow and sat up. He pulled the pair of black and red plaid boxers out from under the leprechaun pants and slid them on. With a stretch, he walked toward his open door, jumping when he met up with Steve, his face now cum free.

“Uh,” Eddie gasped. “I was going to grab some water. Want anything?”

Steve stared at Eddie’s face, eyes lingering on his lips. “Got anything flavored?”

Eddie stepped back to let Steve into his room as he thought. “We might have some Coke or something.”

Steve nodded and entered the room. He scanned Eddie’s body and watched him walk down the hall before turning his attention to looking around the cluttered room, his eyes landing on a pile of cassettes. He grabbed the half-empty beer and walked over to them, passively sipping what was left as he flipped through the tapes. There wasn’t much he really recognized. He’d heard of a few of the bands, but most of them were completely foreign to him. He set the empty beer bottle on the desk and held up a cassette for some band named ‘Black ‘N Blue’. Based on the album cover, he honestly couldn't tell if half of the band were women or not.

“Hey,” Eddie called from the doorway, getting Steve to look over at him. “Catch.” He tossed a can of soda at him.

“Thanks,” Steve caught it, trying not to shake it too much.

“Feel free to throw something on if you want to,” he offered as he sat on the edge of the bed, cracking open a bottle of water.

Steve set the cassette down and sat next to him, carefully opening the soda can, letting it hiss out before opening it all the way. “I don’t even know most of those.”

Eddie took a long drink, leaning back. Steve stared at Eddie’s exposed chest stretching as he drank. With a gasp for breath, Eddie sat up and chuckled. “Let me guess, you’re a top 40 listener?”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” He took a quick drink, the flavor of the cum was almost gone. “Top 40 just means they’re the best current songs.”

“I would strongly disagree.” Eddie hoisted himself to his feet and finished off the water, tossing the crushed bottle wherever it landed. “Just because the masses like something, doesn't make it good.” He knelt in front of an unorganized pile of cassettes under his desk. “Let's see,” he sang as he looked through the pile. “Something a pop-tart would like…” He said to himself, but just loud enough for Steve to hear.

Steve squinted at him mid-drink. “Pop-tart?”

Eddie chuckled and stood, holding a cassette in his hand. “My personal name for those that listen to that trash.”

“What’s wrong with pop music?” He defended.

“It’s objectively bad.” He shrugged with a smirk. “In my opinion, anyway,” he added quickly.

“Wha—” Steve knew there was something off about that statement but couldn’t pinpoint it and got stuck mid-word with his brows furrowed.

Eddie smiled at his ditzy expression as he took the album ‘Van Halen’ out of its case. “I have a feeling you’ll like some of these.” He held the tape between his fingers in display before putting it in the stereo on his cluttered desk and pressing play. He adjusted the volume so they could still hear each other over it. When the guitars started, Eddie spun and mimed playing along as he walked up to Steve.

Steve glanced around the room, noticing the multitude of guitars. “So, you actually do play.”

“What, did you think I lied?” He stopped at Steve’s feet and dropped his arms.

“I just don’t know many people that do.” Steve’s eyes scanned up Eddie’s slender body until they landed on his smirk.

Eddie stared down at him and gently gripped the can in Steve’s hand. “You done with this, good sir?”

“Yeah…” Something about Eddie towering over him was very distracting.

Eddie took the can from his loose hand and finished off the last sip before tossing it aside and straddling Steve’s lap, grinning when he noticed Steve tense and breathing speed pickup. He draped his arms over Steve’s shoulders and leaned close. “Now, I believe there’s something I owe you.” He pressed their lips together, sighing when he felt Steve’s cool hands touch his waist.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Steve laughed.

“Oh, but I do,” he cooed.

“Really, I only did it because I wanted to. You don’t have—” He gasped as Eddie shoved his tongue through his lips and moved a hand to his groin.

Eddie smiled as he felt a reaction to his touch from under Steve’s jeans. “Steve,” he panted, staring into his eyes. “I’m going to blow you.” He rubbed his palm over the growing bulge in Steve’s pants, pleased to feel his words make it jump in size.

“I… okay.”

There was a strange meekness to Steve that made Eddie want to exploit it, but decided against it. “Then scoot your fine ass back and lay down.” Having familiar music helped his confidence and calmed his nerves. Steve had already blown him. He’d made it obvious he at least wanted him physically, so why not take advantage of it? Why deny himself the luxury when it was literally being handed to him?

“Uh,” Steve swallowed and stared at Eddie. There was a new, more intense presence from him. It was almost as if he was a new man. He did as requested and pushed himself further back on the bed and laid down. There was a faint scent of cigarettes with an undertone of sweat that came off of his messy blankets and to Steve’s surprise, he kind of liked it.

Eddie smiled at Steve doing as he asked. When he crawled over him, Steve propped himself up on an elbow and met Eddie’s mouth, melting as their tongues intertwined. Steve gasped when he felt Eddie’s hand press to his groin and rub. They both leaned more into the kiss, Eddie more than Steve, pushing him back down onto the bed. Eddie messily broke the kiss and sat up, straddling Steve’s lap. He ran his hands up Steve’s chest, indulging in the soft skin and the feeling of Steve’s heavy breaths under his palms.

A bubble of anxiety grew in Eddie’s chest as he slid his hands closer to Steve’s hips. He was about to suck a dick, and not just any, but the one belonging to the man he's craved for years. He took a deep breath and pushed himself back so he was sitting on Steve’s thighs. He made quick work of the belt, button, and zipper in his way. First hurdle down. He slid Steve’s pants over his hips and stared at the trapped partial erection. He ran his hand over it, feeling it respond to his touch with a flex and increase in size.

When he took it out, his mouth watered, finally able to get a clear look at Steve’s dick. It was just as large as he thought it was. He smiled at the twin freckles under the head that almost matched the pair on his cheek. He gave it a gentle stroke, coaxing a groan from Steve. Eddie took one final look at the spread in front of him before pushing himself between Steve’s legs and lying on his stomach in front of him. He felt an embarrassment well up as Steve propped himself on an elbow to get a better look.

Eddie flashed him a nervous smile and pressed his lips to the side of it. It was warm and incredibly soft. His mind started to cloud as he ran his lips up the shaft and back. Steve’s aroma was intoxicating, and the soft, growl-like sound he made when Eddie licked up his shaft was better than any drug. He slid the head of Steve’s dick between his lips. The size of it almost filled his mouth to its capacity. He gasped around it when he felt Steve gently toy with his hair.

Watching someone on his dick was far from a new experience for Steve, but something about this time was different. It could be because it was a man, or it could be because it was Eddie. Regardless, it was a sight he wished he could capture on film. When their eyes met, they both froze, and Steve felt a wave of goosebumps on his arms. Eddie’s eyes were shockingly beautiful, especially at this angle. Thinking of a man as beautiful was a foreign thing for Steve, but it didn’t feel wrong. He found Eddie very attractive, and there was no point in denying that.

The passive toying of his hair slightly tickled his scalp as he slowly bobbed his head on Steve’s dick. Every texture was amazing and soft. The occasional hint of salt from his pre-cum was proof that Steve was enjoying it. That and his soft panting. His volume did make Eddie insecure. He worried that he wasn’t good enough. He tried to think about what Steve had done to him. He’d stroked the base with his hand. Eddie replicated that, getting a small groan of approval. Steve also focused a lot on his head. Eddie twirled his tongue around the stupidly soft cap of his dick. The hand in his hair gripped involuntarily, accompanied by a deep grunt.

With those little tidbits confirmed as Steve’s preferences, Eddie increased his suction and pushed the dick as far to the back of his throat as he could comfortably go. He made sure to grip the base firmly and follow his lips with his hand. Steve’s hand gently rested on the back of his head, not pushing or guiding, just a passive acknowledgment. As he pulled up, he flicked his tongue under the ridge of the head. If his mouth wasn’t full, he’d smirk at the twitch of Steve’s hand in response. The slickness of his saliva built up under his hand, allowing him to more confidently pick up his pace.

Steve groaned and gripped Eddie’s hair at the increase in intensity. Even knowing this was Eddie’s first time giving a blowjob, it was still better than most. If he deep-throated him, it would quickly be the best. With Eddie also being a man, he knew where to focus and where to apply pressure. He couldn’t call him skilled, but he knew what he was doing. He watched Eddie bob on his cock, eyes closed, cheeks flushed and concave from the suction. It was a sight that helped urge him closer to orgasm.

Eddie didn’t care that his jaw was getting tired. If anything, the stiffness was just another layer of validation. He’d been high on so many substances, but so far, this was the best. Nothing else existed except him and what he was touching. For all his mind cared, they were on his bed amidst a void. He groaned around Steve’s dick when he felt the hand on the back of his head gently urge him deeper. Eddie took in as much of Steve as he could and applied a strong suction, dancing his tongue around any surface it could reach.

Steve’s moans had to be his new favorite song. He could listen to them on repeat forever. If only he’d thought to set up a recording. He nearly lost it when he felt Steve start vaguely thrusting his hips. The feeling of the smooth, slick cock rubbing over his tongue and lips was mind-numbing. Even the sting of his split lip wasn't enough to distract him. He opened his eyes to look at Steve and shuddered a breath when he saw him laying back with his other hand running through his own hair. There was no denying it, Steve was enjoying himself. A wave of confidence flooded Eddie, and he began sucking with new vigor. Steve grunted loudly as Eddie put his all into blowing him.

“Fu—” Steve hissed. “Eddie,” he gasped. “I’m almost.” He moaned loudly and gripped Eddie’s hair tightly as Eddie only increased his enthusiasm.

There was no way Eddie was going to miss the chance to take Steve’s load in his mouth. He didn’t care how gross it was going to be. He’d tasted his own out of curiosity and pretty much knew what to expect. He fought against Steve’s tight grip on his hair to suck his dick with everything he had. A faint shudder up the base of Steve’s dick filled Eddie with excited anxiety. After just a couple more plunges into his mouth, Steve moaned, his voice ringing clear over the sound of the music. Eddie felt Steve press on his head and the warm, thick fluid flooded his mouth. It was one of the nastiest things he’d ever felt, and he loved every second of it.

Steve looked down at Eddie, who was gently sucking, coaxing every last drop out of him. After knowing what it was like, he had no idea how Eddie could stand having it sitting in his mouth like that. He coughed when Eddie met his eyes and swallowed with the dick still in his mouth. Fuck, that was hot.

Once Eddie was certain he’d bled him dry, he took all of Steve’s softening dick in his mouth and sucked firmly as he slowly slid it out. He enjoyed Steve squirming at the sensitivity. He couldn’t help but smirk at Steve’s gasp as it popped out of his mouth. They were both panting and flushed as they stared at each other.

Steve gave an impressed huff and shook his head. “I don’t know how you could swallow that shit.”

Eddie grinned and shrugged. “I like gross things.”

Steve pushed himself into a sitting position but was quickly tackled back to the bed by Eddie pouncing on him and forcing their mouths together. He fought back. Tasting himself on Eddie’s tongue was just as gross as it was when women did it. The main difference was that he could wrestle with Eddie, something he couldn’t do with women. He flipped them over, confident he was stronger than Eddie, and pulled out of the kiss, holding Eddie’s wrists to the bed below. Eddie’s bright-eyed mischievous expression made Steve laugh and drop all urge to fight. He shook his head and fell on the bed beside him.

Steve turned his head to see Eddie already staring back. He smiled at him and pulled his pants up, but left the belt undone. He didn’t know what to say after that, his mind was still clouded by the high. Eddie said something, but he didn’t catch it. “What?” he asked, turning back to face him.

Eddie propped himself up on his elbow and placed a hand on Steve’s chest. “I asked if you wanted a smoke.”

“Oh.” Steve shook his head. “Yeah…” he said with a distance in his voice. “Yeah,” there was more certainty in his voice that time. “Sure.”

Eddie reached across Steve, putting his chest over his face. Steve swallowed as he stared at the smooth tattooed skin, resisting the urge to lick the nipple that was barely an inch from his lips. When Eddie pulled back, Steve sat up and took the stick offered to him. Eddie lit his own, puffing smoke around the filter before holding the light out to Steve, who leaned into it and inhaled a cherry onto his own cigarette. Eddie lifted his thumb from the cheap lighter, letting the flame die off, and tossed it onto his desk near the stereo. The pack of cigarettes was soon to follow. He took a deep inhale of the smoke and sighed it out. “Hmm,” he hummed, impressed. “I guess there is something to the smoking after sex trope. Tastes better than usual.” He held the cigarette out in front of him, examining it.

Steve chuckled, vaguely coughing on the smoke. “Is that why you wanted to?”

“At least partially, yeah.” He smiled at Steve and fell back onto his bed, holding the cigarette between his teeth as he smoked it hands-free.

Steve looked down at Eddie as he smoked his own. “It does taste better, doesn’t it?” He smirked, receiving one from Eddie in return.

Eddie gazed up at him and put an arm under his head as a pillow, taking an extra deep drag and removing the cigarette from his mouth as he heavily sighed the smoke from his lungs and stared at the ceiling. “I’m guessing you want to act like this never happened.”

Steve winced. It was obvious that it bothered Eddie, but he just wasn’t comfortable with others knowing. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

Eddie shrugged and took another hit before responding. “I figured as much.” He wasn’t able to meet Steve’s eyes. He knew it was going to happen, but it didn’t lessen the sting by all that much.

A soft smile spread across Steve’s face. He rested the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray on Eddie’s end table and turned to face him. He gently ran his fingers up Eddie’s chest, getting him to tense and take a deeper inhale than he intended. “Is being my little secret such a bad thing?”

Eddie’s laugh was accompanied by a plume of smoke from his mouth. “Does that mean you don’t want this to be the last?”

“I didn’t want Valentine’s to be our last, so of course I don’t want this to be, either.” He gently gripped the forearm of the hand that was holding Eddie’s cigarette and leaned into a kiss. He sighed when he felt Eddie’s hand slide into his hair and his tongue into his mouth. The flavor of tobacco overpowered that of the cum, but it was still vaguely present.

When Steve pulled away, Eddie huffed a small laugh and glanced anywhere but Steve’s face, knowing for a fact that he was blushing. “Still got my number?”

“Uh huh,” Steve acknowledged, smirking at Eddie’s shy expression.

Eddie swallowed and glanced back up at him. “Then you know where to find me.”

“I’ll be sure to use it.” He pet Eddie’s hair and pressed their lips together again.

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

[thefuseoftemptation]

so I've been reading the recents of "why're you still up?" and was thinking about how it is when the Uncle isn't there you know? so could I request where the reader x eddie are up but only Wayne isn't there to get on them for it? and you think them being up has to do with what eddie went through? if you could pls

well, lets see what I got here,,,,thanks for the request!!!

—WE'RE STILL AT IT

EDDIE MUNSON X GN!READER

WARNING(S): cussing, the struggles of not being able to sleep, again, references to the show, suggestions to what Eddie went through, hurt/comfort? Not proofread.

other pt.s to it could be seen pt.1 HERE & pt.2 HERE

—

Sure it the was usual, for you and Eddie to still be up, but it wasn't so much knowing that his Uncle wasn’t there. Even if it served well for him since he wasn’t going to be pulled again from his sleep because you and Eddie couldn’t keep quiet, there was that emptiness in the other room that hadn’t settled quite yet. 

You were so used to him being there to tell you guys off that when he suddenly told you that he’d be out on a shift, it took a second to process.

It’s not like it was new for him to be gone but ever since you began staying over, he’d always been there to greet you.

Whether it was when you and Eddie woke him or when you heard his truck pull into the lot. Wayne's all to often presence too over the weeks was to be there for his nephew, with everything that went down, he had to be sure Eddie was well before he left.

It felt too, that when his Uncle was there, your guy’s stunts were meant to be done because of it, even if it was unknown or not. Just the thought of knowing he was there, that you guys had someone, that wasn’t the other…..it was comforting too? And with the current shift in presence, well, let’s just say change wasn’t really your thing.

Plus, since you’ve been on your own most of the time. While it was welcoming to know it wasn’t just you anymore, it took you a while to get used to them being there for you– even more so trying to be there for them.

Guess it was still that Wayne wasn’t there because it had you and Eddie going on as if he was, which was a little fucked because the one time he isn’t there you guys were literally trying to be quiet. Eddie's sock covered feet shuffling through the room while you hadn’t said a word that hour, it was progress for you guys. If only you had been like that when his Uncle was sleeping. 

“Huh, m’trying to get used to the feeling.....” You murmur looking over the empty room, as Eddie pushes himself up on the counter.

“Hm, takes time but you’ll get– oh, look!” Eddie cut himself off as he gestured to the full shelves and cabinets with new things Wayne had picked up from the store. It wasn’t much, just the basics, but it was plenty to you guys. 

You had offered to get them with Eddie even if he shunned the thought of it, but his Uncle was quick to wave you off since you went the last few times. It was the least you could do, after all you were currently and temporarily staying under his roof. A term that Eddie refused to receive because he preferred you just stayed there. Permanently.

It had yet to be further talked about because of the uncertainty. You just felt like you were bumming off them, though that's not the case or why you were there, it felt like it. Eddie knew that and so did Wayne, but it never stopped guilt that often crept through.

Getting to your feet after being crouched on the floor, you turn to Eddie. 

“What should we make?” Holding a frying pan up and staring at Eddie expectantly.

—

You were seated on the floor crossed over from where Eddie was at the counter. Neither of you ended up making something and settled for what was there. There was stuff to use, you just didn’t feel like making it, preferring to pass a smoke back and forth. With a side of milk.

Since its what’s suggested and gets you sleepy– that’s what Eddie says, but you were sure it had to be at a certain temperature in order for it to help. And with the shrug he gave, it was no help.

'M’not for sure, it’s just what I hear. We’ll see though in the next few hours if were up.' He had said and here you were a few hours later still up.

Well, that was useless.

You throw your head back against the cabinets as you stare up at the ceiling, watching the light flicker lightly, only to then casually turn it to its side as you look at Eddie. Nose scrunching at his sock covered feet.

“Why the fuck don’t you take those off?” The words were muffled, with the stub between your mouth as you gestured to them. You could see his toes move through the cloth.

“Uh, because I don’t feel like it.” 

“No one wears socks to sleep.”

“Not so sure ‘bout that because–” he stops, thumbing to himself. You go back and forth with your talk, it only getting silent for a few seconds before Eddie was bringing up something that you weren’t really looking to confront then and there.

“Why are you so set on leaving? We’ve been through that you’re more than welcomed to stay. I know Wayne won’t mind, even though we wake him up— but he’ll get used to it! I mean– he’s been used to it since we were little. You were always over here, so why not just make it permanent?” Eddie pushes himself closer to the edge, his hands at his side as he wasn’t sure what to do with them, eyes closely watching to see what you’d do, what you’d say.

“Eddie…” You sighed and that was all it took for him to slump. The hurt look in his eyes tugged at your chest. You stubbed out the smoke and leave it to the side to throw out later. 

“It was only supposed to be temporary and you should know that, seeing as you were the one to ask me to be here…” It wasn't supposed to come out like that, but it was too late now to take them back.

“So, what? Y-You just went with it? There was no other purpose than you just feeling sorry for what I went through?” The way he tried to keep himself steady, but by the way his voice stuttered, he was hurt and you knew it. There was that slight waver, something that told you he was about to cry.

“That’s not what I meant, you know that! It wasn’t just you either, we all went through something but I get what you’re saying…I just– I’m always over here, we covered that but that was before everything.” The latter word was whispered, spoken so lowly.

You guys had been trying to forget it all, to move on but that couldn’t happen if you kept bringing it up. And Eddie knew what you were referring to, so it wasn’t necessary to question the sudden change of tone.

While sure, you guys were kept up because it generally was a struggle to get sleep but ever since what happened, it’s just been worse. Never forgetting when Eddie showed up at your doorstep crying, telling you that every time he shut his eyes, it was like he was back there again. And after that, you never let him go.

When he asked you to stay until he could get back to sleep– you never left until you knew he was. And if that meant literally, to where nothing was besetting him, then so be it. 

It’s been weeks. And you were almost sure that the guy could get some shut eye just fine now.

There are the times where, as usual, he’ll be up just like you but those are results of struggling to settle down and overall having fucked up systems.

“It’s not like I’m never coming back, you’ll still see me everyday. S’just, I won’t be here when it’s time to turn off the lights or when you wake up. Nothing we haven’t been through before.” You put it gently, trying not to hurt him more than you had already.

“I know. S’just, you were why I got through it all….knowing that you’re here with me. And knowing that I got to see you before I close my eyes and when I open them, it was comforting. I felt like myself, felt like nothing ever changed. It just let me know that you were here, in my arms and breathing. Maybe it was just me....” His utterance had your eyes wet, holding back all the pent up feelings you've pushed down.

“No. No it’s not and m’sorry if I made you question it. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here, with you. But I feel like me being here is” you wave your hands trying to find the words “I know I’m usually always over here but that's the thing now, I’m always here. I just feel like I overstayed my welcome– like I’m bumming off on you guys.”

Eddie’s head shook profusely, getting off the counter and kneeling in front of you and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tears fleeing.

“You’re not, you hear me? M’telling you and I know Wayne will repeat it too, you shouldn’t ever feel like you don’t belong here because that’s not the case. You got us.” Eddie pulled you into him as he seated himself.

“Even if I get on Wayne's nerves sometimes…” It was muffled but Eddie heard you clearly.

“We. Even if we get on his nerves…how could we not though? We’re children….” You chuckle at the words Eddie spoke, having heard them enough times. Only thing was, they had been coming from his Uncle’s tongue.

—

When Wayne returned later that morning, it wasn’t uncommon to see you and Eddie. And it was nothing new to see you guys on the floor sleeping— holding the other on the kitchen floor in the wee hours of the morning.

He was used to it though. You guys were his children.

—

A/N: feedback and reblogs are appreciated.

[blondiexbiites]

The Ghost first appeared in the periphery of Maddie's vision one night-- just outside of one's focus like the bum on the street corner. Litter in the gutter. A bad feeling that made you cross the street.

But he always seemed to be there, just around the corner for her to bump into, only to realize it was just a coat hung upon a door, or a broom stood in the corner. First as a figment half-sensed in the dreams that come as the skies grow dark. Then, as the nights passed and grew into weeks, as something lurking, waiting for her.

A thin man in a rumpled suit, his throat torn open in some terrible act of mortal violence-- his life bled away and still wetting his ruined collar. A lingering scent of mildew, sour beer and cigarette smoke. An unwelcome brush in the darkness. A laugh half-heard. Leering.

Except tonight, he seems almost solid, sitting at the end of her bed smoking a goddamned cigarette. The audacity.

"Looks like some ol' pornos in here. All th' fuckin' pink an' lace an' fuckin' princess shit, aye?" He chuckles, and smoke wafts from the gored hole in his neck.

"You leeches an' yer aesthetics make me sick. Bet you do insta too, aye?"

Madison forced herself out of bed; her legs were heavy and uncooperative, and her stomach growled from lack of proper nourishment. She swayed, holding to the bed for support, her teeth chattering from a familiar bone-deep chill. That damnable chill she'd endured for weeks on end. She had never before been so cold, but she couldn't allow herself the luxury of huddling under the covers when she had a whole night of hunting ahead of her. Madison had to do something to ward off her hunger and the unsettling feeling of being watched. Laboriously, Madison smoothed out the pink satin sheets and pillows, then shuffled to the kitchen and grabbed a can of scented liquid she couldn't even bring herself to name. Returning to her bedroom, she sprayed the bed linens before tucking everything in tight and drawing the silk duvet in place. Madison then stacked her decorative frilly pillows on the bed in their usual order and sprayed the air deodorizer around the bedroom and bathroom.

Maybe Maddie was just imagining it, but she could have sworn she could smell the same strange, chilling presence she'd been smelling for weeks. The smell of rot, blood, gore, and something unwelcome in her home. Trembling, Madison wrapped her silken pink bathrobe tighter around her trembling frame, blonde curls whipping about as she looked around frantically. Why was she so damnably cold? The normally bubblegum-scented air in her room felt freezing, but she had already set the thermostat to a toasty 70 degrees! Snarling, Madison began to pace, eyes glowing red with frustration as she tried to wrap her head around the strange occurrences these past few days and the smell that had taken residence in her home!

And that was when she heard it.

The noise was slight, little more than a rustle. Madison paused, her blonde head tilting as she listened for a repeat of the slight, odd sound. There. A whisper, like fabric. And from a familiar location.

Someone was in her room.

Madison's scalp prickled, and a jolt of sheer shock made her undead heart almost freeze in her chest. Slowly, Maddie turned her head to face whatever or whoever was sitting on the edge of her bed. The very presence that was violating her sanctuary.

"Looks like some ol' pornos in here. All th' fuckin' pink an' lace an' fuckin' princess shit, aye?"

The chill grew even more potent, the smell staggering, but Madison didn't move, couldn't move. Her eyes swept from his horrendous rumpled clothing to his smarmy, unpleasant face before finally settling on the red hole that was his throat...or used to be his throat. 'Did I do that?' she thought distantly. Afraid. Why did she feel so scared?

"You leeches an' yer aesthetics make me sick. Bet you do insta too, aye?"

Madison's chest constricted, preventing her from doing more than draw in quick, shallow breaths. She couldn't move or even scream, but the moment he insulted her pink colors, morbid righteous fury roared and overwhelmed the bubble of unsureness. "DON'T INSULT MY COLORS!" she screeched, fangs bared, face twisted in a look of ugly rage. "And for your information, I use Tinder!" Only the best place to get proper food. Insta asked for too much exposure, but enough about that, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?! AND GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY BED! THOSE SHEETS ARE EGYPTIAN SILK, AND YOU'RE SPOILING THEM!"

@infamouscabal

[kaatu-sirukki]

dont read this anyone

what am I doing

Hijikata was once again on patrol duty, not that he minded much he would rather be doing something then nothing at home. He let out a yawn. It was close to midnight in Edo and he kept driving slow, eyeing any people that raised suspicion. Tonight was uneventful and mundane maybe due to the fact that it was a weekday. The bars were empty and only one or two people walked the roads. Through the side of his eye he sees a figure walking outside a bar, head in hand and stumbling. The light was dull and he couldn’t see properly who it was but all he could make out was curly hair.

“Hey where are you going” Hijikata calls out. He doesn’t get a response from the man.


“Hey, do you want me to arrest you for nuisance, stop walking away” Hijikata calls out one more time.

“Shut upppppppp” the man says. Hijikata pulls the vehicle to the shoulder to where the man is and rolls down his window.

“Oi Toshi…. whatcha doing here huh?” The man who finally he identifies is Yorozuya Gintoki smirks.

“Its not what you think it is perm head, I’m just on patrol and racking up all the drunk people to put them in lockup” Hijikata replies, hand automatically grabbing the fabric collar of Gintoki’s yukata. The two share a bantering relationship and despise each other. Hijikata always sees the latter as a slacker and bum while Gintoki sees him as stuck up and annoying. Hijikata let go of Gintoki’s yukata dispelling his anger, he doesn’t have the energy to deal with this maniac especially drunk.

“Yoruzuya get in, I’ll drop you off at home” Hijikata offers.


“Ehhh? What if I don’t wanna” Gintoki jokes around while placing himself in the passenger seat of the Shinsengumi vehicle.

“If you don’t want to then I’ll have to take you to jail and can only be let out tomorrow” he warns.

Gintoki slouches into the chair staring outside at the pole light. “You’re on patrol right? Take me with you. The house is too quiet Kagura and Shinpachi is out with Otae-san,” he says.

Usually he wouldn’t just let anyone tag along on a patrol, he’s a police man after all. But arguing with this state of Gintoki seems unreasonable. He could just kick him out of the car and let him rot on the sidewalk, but something in his eyes today makes him look vulnerable. Sure, he’s talking to him without respect, even referring himself to Toshi and not Hijikata-san, but it feels like more of a facade than normal. Gintoki’s eyes are still zoned out, looking into the void and not looking at Hijikata, or anything with due respect. Hijikata drums his hands on the wheel thinking of a choice.

“Fine, but I still have an hour, and if you ever throw up in my car during this time I will put you in jail” he lays out the ground rules.

“After the hour can I stay with you?” he says quietly. Hijikata raises his voice to say no once again, but he shuts up and lets out a hum. Does he pity him? He couldn’t tell. He lacks any empathy when it comes to whatever Yoruzuya is doing, even going to lengths to try to arrest Gintoki in the means of a Joui terrorist. But seeing the man disassociating and drunk churns his stomach.

He sees Gintoki let a small smile through the corner of his eye and he starts the car once again. The ride is silent while Gintoki slowly falling in and out of sleep and Hijikata continues to keep for the lookout. Through the ride Hijikata steals glances at the man next to him. The car reeks of the smell of alcohol and cigarettes that Hijikata smoked. The hour was close to finishing and he pings Yamazaki to take over the next part of the shift. He drives slowly to the Shinsengumi quarters almost feeling bad that if he went any faster it would wake up the now snoring Gintoki from his slumber. He pulls into the lot and rests his head on the back of the car seat. How did he find himself in this predicament. An hour ago he was driving alone and passing the night but now he has to bring a drunk enemy back to his apartment. He debates on leaving him in the car but he’s scared the man would just die on him or even more make a mess of the car by throwing up in it.

“Oi let’s go” he presses Gintoki’s arm. The man felt warm heating up his icy cold hands. Gintoki jolts in fear, eyes scanning his surrounding.

“You’re sober already?” Hijikata asks.

“Toshi don’t scare me like that. Also why are we at the Shinsengumi, I thought you were taking me back to your place. You even promised” he whines. Well Hijikata knows now that he’s still drunk even more drunk that it’s making him lose the last few percentages of his intellect.

“You fucking dumbass I live here” Hijikata spits. He hears a small ‘Oh’ from the other as they both get outside the car. Gintoki wraps his arm around Hijikatas shoulders partly for support. Hijikata opens the door to both of them and Gintoki nearly falls side the dorm room. The room was small with only a futon, television, small kitchenette, and bathroom. The room lacked any color and pictures. It looked more dull than Hijikata himself.

“Here’s a pair of clothes, go shower and change, I’ll get your bed ready” Hijikata says. He almost has to shove Gintoki into the bathroom like a child refusing to clean themselves. Hijikata sits down and lets out a huge sigh once again. Tonight’s gonna be a pain in the ass for him, and he has to wake up in a few hours to get ready for the morning assembly, which means he needs Yoruzuya out an hour early atleast to hide any suspicions that may arise.

“TOSHIII” he hears a scream. Hijikata scrambles to the bathroom, scared that the idiot accidentally fell on his ass or something.

“What do you want” he asks.

“Towel.” Gintoki says. He’s so drunk he’s unaware that he’s standing full glory penis out infront of Hijikata the the shower curtains pushed to the side. Hijikata eyes accidentally look down and feels his face flush. He immediately turns around, grabs a towel from the closet next to the bathroom and throws it behind him. It’s not like Hijikata has seen other men naked. When there’s missions that require the Shinsengumi to stake outside he’s had the displeasure to see the members naked all showering in lakes or communal bathrooms. But this once again feels different. Gintoki’s acting so hostile towards him, as if all these days their quarrels never existed. The man felt too relaxed, even for Gintoki’s standards of relaxed. A couple minutes later he sees Gintoki step outside the bathroom, hair damp from the shower and eyes tired. He looked young and naive in the grey yukata. He looks like a different person.

Has he ever looked this pretty, Hijikata wonders. “You look like you want to fuck me Toshi” Gintoki giggles as a pillow is chucked at his face by the other man.

“Your bed is made you’re free to sleep whenever, I’m going to shower. Just letting you know that I need you out early tomorrow so If you don’t wake up I will kill you” the man threatens.

“Yeah yeah whatever” Gintoki says as he lays down. Hijikata takes a small shower and changes into his pajamas. He steps outside to the hall where he sees the man asleep. The hair falls infront of his eyes and his lips are slightly open.

He looks pretty. Has he ever looked this pretty. He slowly slides himself into the futon a two feet away from Gintoki. It’s a small room and there’s only one ceiling fan that has a short radius. Gintoki felt different all night, usually he’s more irrational and fiesty but he’s more compliant today. He didn’t even try to fight Hijikata for seeing him naked even though it wasn’t his fault when thinking about it in retrospect. Hijikata has the urge to run his fingers through Gintoki’s hair and face. It felt different. There was butterflies. He kept staring at the small details on his face, like how there’s small grooves from previous battles or how lips are chapped and dry. He would think he’s a fool if this was love he’s never truly loved someone since Mistuba-san. But with all his actions today there’s a level of infatuation and care that he didn’t even know existed especially towards this stupid fucker. Hijikata doesn’t feel himself falling into sleep but soon his world turns dark.

——— 5 hours later ———

Hijikata is awaken by his alarm. It’s currently 6:00am and the Shinsengumi’s daily meeting doesn’t start till 8:00am. This leaves him enough time to either kill and bury Yoruzuya or bring him home.

“Tell that thing to shut UP” he hears Gintoki whine. Looks like he’s sobered up with his usual lazy delivery of dialogue. Gintoki slowly opens his eyes, looking around his surroundings, a fear slowly creeping up his stomach that he might have slept with a random person and landed into their house. It’s not uncommon for Gintoki to do this, sometimes he hits it off well with a girl he meets at a bar and takes her back to his place or goes to hers. But usually by now he would have been yelled at to leave by the company. He looks to his side and sees a tall figure standing up with black hair.

“….Hijikata-kun?” Gintoki says slowly. Whatever remaining high he had from last night’s drinks just magically disappeared.

“I don’t have time to talk, don’t fall asleep on me again, I’m going to go shower and after you are going home” Hijikata states.

“Oi oi you don’t have to. I-I’ll just go-“ Gintoki stutters.

“-And what, get caught by Sougu or Kondo-san? I don’t think so. I’ll take you back, just wait” Hijikata says.

Gintoki sits in silence for the next twenty mins. He can’t recall how he got himself into this confusion. The last thing he remembers was pulling next to a car and smelling cigarettes. Ah. The pieces start to click inside his head. He feels his neck and other body parts, trying to find any indications of sex between him and the Demon Vice Chief but it looks like for now they are clean. But why would he bring him home, if anything he would expect Hijikata to just leave him in an alleyway to die. Hijikata walks outside the bathroom changed into his work attire. He signals for Gintoki to use the bathroom next as he starts to make breakfast.

Gintoki stands in the shower taking in the cold water trying to make sense of everything that happened. He hears Hijikata yell at him to come quicker and that he’s running late. He clothes himself and steps out to the smell of freshly cooked eggs and toast. He’s never been served breakfast after sleeping over at someones place, he’s usually out by now but here he is being attended to and cared for.

“Are you gonna stare at me? You’re hungover, eat something or just commit seppuku here” Hijikata retorts. Gintoki grabs the plate and chows down on the food. Hijikata isn’t a bad cook by any means but as a human he has atrocious tastebuds. His plate is filled with a bottle of mayonnaise which makes Gintoki gag whenever he steals a glance. The two men finish their breakfast and Hijikata steps out first, checking to see if anyone is nearby. He signals Gintoki to silently walk to the car as he starts it.

“Oi Hijikata. What happened last night” Gintoki asks.

“Don’t worry about it”

“Did we have sex?” Gintoki breaks the ice immediately. Hijikata’s eyes shoot up at him in embarrassment and fear.

“NO WE DIDN’T” Hijikata hisses quietly. The red on his face coming back again. He hears Gintoki laughing and it pisses him off even more.

“So something happened then…”

“Nothing happened.”

“Fine.”

The two drive back in silence. Every once in a while Gintoki looks over to see Hijikata’s face. Hes still pink from the embarrassment and from that feeling of Gintoki looking at him. Gintoki’s always known Hijikata was pretty. Hes even said it to him before, calling him pretty boy whenever they drink. But right now was different they weren’t drunk or anything. Hijikata pulls in front of the Snack Otose building waiting for Gintoki to leave in silence and for him to forget whatever happened last night. He grips the steering wheel tight, not looking the latter’s face.

“Oi Toshi.” Gintoki says. Hijikatas’s face immediately turns left ready to correct him for calling him Toshi when hes pulled into for a kiss. The kiss is brief and Hijikata stands still. Gintoki doesn’t force his lips open the kiss is just a small one of the lips. The red faded on Hijikata’s face shot up again.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR” he squeaks as Gintoki’s hand is on the car door.

“A thank you.”

“THATS NOT HOW YOU THANK PEOPLE” Hijikata is nearly yelling at this point.

“Oh so Vice Chief didn’t like that huh. Wonder why his body is reacting likewise” Gintoki teased. Gintoki brings the mans face close again and he scans his eyes on his features. He hovers his lips ontop of the other’s.

“If you don’t want this then I’ll stop” Gintoki whispers as he prays internally that Hijikata won’t punch him for just being kissed. To his surprise Hijikata kisses him back, more forceful and lustful. This time its longer and messier. What felt like hours of kissing was just only a minute until he hears the walkie of Yamazaki asking where he was.

“Guess thats my queue to go” Gintoki exits the car.

“OI WHATS THE MEANING OF THIS” Hijikata yells as he sees Gintoki walking away from the car. Gintoki waves him off as he disappears into the building. Hijikata is left in dismay.

Just a day ago he was trying to find ways to arrest his rival Yoruzuya Sakata Gintoki but now hes seen left breathless by the man. He starts the car and drives back to the station, still recovering from the shock of the last several minuets. He can’t tell if he likes Yoruzuya or if thats just a vulnerable part of him. He found himself eyeing the man last night and even kissing him back. He hates everything about him, but does he hate Him. By this tike Hijikata has smoked atleast ten cigarettes already, leaving barely any gap before smoking the next one. The stick between his mouth is the only thing keeping him sane or else he would have started running laps around the Shinsengumi building.

“Vice chief good morning” he hears a squadron member say as he waves them a good morning.

“Oi Hijikata you look sick. Is all that mayonnaise finally killing you” he hears Sougo retort. If it was a normal Hijikata day he would have tried to fight Sougo atleast once for these remarks but today his brain cant even register the insult.

[spicyrascals]

“What am I doing here? Excellent question,” a nervous laugh escaped his throat as James struggled to come up with an adequate response. He was always the one who’d wander off, this time he found himself in the fascinating world of business and riches, meandering sterile corridors with piqued curiosity until he came face to face with the first person to recognise him as an intruder.

“What are we all doing here? Quite the existential enigma, if you ask me. Is there a purpose to our existence? And if so who profits of it? You know in alchemy, they teach you about the ouroboros, snake eating its own tail, the unity of all things. Nothings gone forever, destruction nurtures creation, creation leads to destruction. Maybe we exist simply because we can’t break the eternal circle and-”

Shit. He’s been rambling. “You are gonna kick me out aren’t you?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Honestly?  I’m not sure.  You made it to the Dragon’s Den.  The CEO’s office; without anyone noticing or seeming to care that you had no badge or even a visitor’s pass.  Really, I must get better security.” Smoke billowed out of the man’s nose as he looked at the person before him.  He could smell the power off of him, and his eyes wandered over his body. He found he wanted to do things to him, which only meant more smoke billow out of his mouth this time. “Tell me.  Did you know that this company was owned by a dragon?  Or were you just curious?”

At the first sight of the other exhaling billows of smoke, James stumbled a step backwards. The few vials and small glass bottles he carelessly kept in the pocket of his his hooded jumper made a muffled clinking sound.

“Well, I’ve certainly heard rumours. Dindn’t expect to get this far, honestly. Or to actually meet-” James nearly chocked on his own words. Of course! People hear the word dragon and think of a giant winged lizard on a pile of gold, but they could take humanoid form. Incredibly good looking ones, too, evidently.

“You’re… the dragon?” Realisation hit him like a ten ton truck, rendering James unable to get his words past a whisper. He was awestruck. Lips parted and breath hitching from excitement, he drunk in the dragon’s appearance and found himself aroused. 

Still whispering he offered the dragon his name: “I’m James.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“James.” Grey slowly moved closer, walking around James’ body as his hand rested on the other’s belly.  Smoke continued to billow, but what mortals didn’t know was that dragon smoke was…special.  Various pheromones and chemicals could be placed inside of the smoke to entice reactions from others.  Anything from fear to…arousal. In this case, Grey had taken a liking to James’ form, and very much wanted to make the man beg for his cock. “How about we have a conversation in my office.” He moved to stand behind James, his groin pressing against the other man’s ass, letting him feel his stiffening cock. He took in a deep sniff of James’ neck. “I have a…proposition…for you.”

The whole world became a blur and its sole centre the enticing gesture of having the dragon’s hand rest on his tum. If only it’d stray lower, just a bit lower, to where his blood was quickly rushing. 

James caught himself nearly wincing at the thought, biting his bottom lip to keep silent. It was then that he felt the might bulge press into his bum and he nearly choked on his own suppressed moan.

Bloody Hell! This had to be dream!

For all he knew, this man definitely was. A dream. The dream. And James was eager to pursue him.

“Mm-hmmm,” he purred in affirmation, turning around, ready to follow Grey wherever. Yet James wore a cheeky grin on his lips, and the boyish audacity to throw in his own terms: “If you give me your name.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The dragon smirked. “You know my name, James.  It’s the name that you wake up, screaming after an intense wet dream.  Its the name you moan as you take yourself in hand.  It’s the name you moaned when you had sex with your last lover.  It’s the name that has been on your lips for so long.  It’s also the name on the building.” He puffed smoke out around James’ head. “Grey Grayson.  Your mate.  I’ve been waiting for you to come.” The dragon smirked. “Now…shall we enter my office?  I do believe you are my 2 o’clock.”

G r e y

Somehow that name resonated with him. Like a sudden memory of a dream he’d deemed forgotten. It was familiar. More than familiar. Like a calling. A promise.

Silently his lips formed that very name, in anticipation of yelling it at the top of his lungs soon enough.

James cocked his head, diving into the billows of smoke, inhaling deeply like a drowning man longed for air. He was so close now, locking gazes with his destined dragon mate. His bright blue eyes drowning in that beautiful, mesmerising yellow gaze.

James’ lips brush against Grey’s as he voiced the fateful promise for the first time “Grey”. His voice comes out huskily, the longing audible.

“If I’m not mistaken you’re booked in for the remainder of this afternoon.” He finishes by placing but a peck on Grey’s lips as they make their way to his office.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The dragon chuckled.  Yes, this was his destined mate, and yes, he was perfect.  Beautiful blue eyes.  A lovely wit.  And a body that Grey couldn’t wait to breed.  Yes.  A perfect little mate. He shut and locked the office door behind him before sending a message to his secretary, telling them to clear the rest of his day.  He then sat down, pulling James into his lap and licking the shell of his ear. “Do you know what you are, James?  To me, I mean.  Do you know?”

It was impossible to wipe that smile of James’ face, which excitement and anticipation had painted on his lips. He was looking around, curious as ever, hands touching whatever they could find on the desk, but his mind couldn’t process his surroundings. 

Grey had become his single focus and when he got pulled into his lap, James moaned quietly in appreciation, grinding his arse against his mate’s groin through too many layers of clothing.

“No?,” James wondered aloud. He knew Grey was his mate and in turn it made him the mate to the dragon. But he needed to hear it. He was starving for Grey’s affection. “What am I to you? What do you need me to be?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You are my mate.  Mate to the prince of dragons.  And as such, the most important thing to me.  But more than that, when we mate, you will undergo certain changes.  You will become half dragon, in a sense.  You will be able to grow wings so you can fly with me.  You will grow scales and an immunity to flames and heat.  Your magic will become stronger as you learn control of the elements, air, fire, water and ice, the very earth itself.” He caressed James’ cheek. “You will even find you grow claws to defend yourself with, should someone try and attack you.” Some dragon mates also grew horns, but as Grey was not a horned dragon, he doubted that James would grow them. “Are you frightened?”

“Yeah… I am,” James admitted in a whisper. He was terrified even, without being able to pinpoint why; was it the change? The fear of losing himself? Or the thought of disappointing? That he wasn’t living up to expectations?

The thought of losing Grey was more horrifying than the thought of losing himself. He may have met the dragon only minutes ago, but he knew he’d been waiting for him all his life.

James bit his lip, rearranging himself on the dragon’s lap, each knee at the side of Grey’s, arms hooked around his neck in a loose embrace. “But I want this. I want you,” he whispered. Eyes fluttering shut before he leaned in for a kiss.

“Will it hurt?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“There should be little to no pain.  The transformation itself is painless.  But sex for the first time with someone new can have it’s discomforts.  I’m not small, James.  I’m quite large.  And it’ll take proper preparation before I can enter you.  If I prepare you properly, then no, there shouldn’t be pain.” He cupped James’ cheek as he kissed him again, his free hand resting on the other man’s lower back, pulling him in closer. “We can leave, if you would prefer this in a bed.  If you think that our first time should be in a more intimate setting.”

James smiled against Greys lips. He was so tempted to remind the other that he was not a virgin, but then he mentioned his size and… well, though he felt intimidated, his arousal prevailed. Rocking his hips he tried to get a taster of what was to be expected, but there were just too many layers of clothing to be absolutely sure. A moan in frustration. Then he trapped Grey’s bottom lip between his teeth, playfully, and turned it into another hungry kiss.

A bed indeed sounded lovely, but “I don’t want to wait any longer,” James decided. “All I really need is you. Doesn’t matter where.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Grey growled into the hungry kiss.  He loved everything about this man already.  He knew he would be a goner for sure once he got to know him as a person.  As it was, he was addicted to his scent, his taste, his very presence. He pulled away only long enough to remove his own clothes, revealing his very large erection.  He stroked himself slowly as he looked at his mate. “Are you sure, James?” He gestured with his head towards the couch in the office. “If you are…then come over here and sit on my lap.” He moved to the couch, and at down, patting his lap as he watched James with eyes glowing golden.

James stared with his mouth open, hunger, lust in his bright blue eyes. Grey wasn’t lying when he said he was big. Huge. And as much as it should have intimidated him, the alchemist felt only more aroused..

It took so much willpower to shut his mouth and swallow that lingering moan. So much willpower not to extend a greedy hand and touch where Grey was stroking himself. So much willpower to just utter this one tiny little sentence in affirmation: “Yes, I’m sure.”

More sure than he had ever been in his life. When Grey moved to the couch, James started to undress under his watchful golden gaze. Eventually he stood stark naked in a puddle of his own clothes, his hand travelling over his bare hairy chest down to his own erection.

He couldn’t wait, needed to touch himself whilst drinking in the sight of his mate. But he followed his call, and climbed on the dragon’s lap. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’m yours, Grey. As you are mine.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Yours?  I’m glad you see me as yours as well.  So many people forget that being mates is a two way street.” He rested one hand on James’ thigh, and another on his lower back.  It was thrilling to know that the alchemist was just as aroused in this moment as he was.  How long had he waited for his mate?  Centuries.  And now, finally, he had him sitting on his lap. He slowly moved his hand on James’ thigh to wrap around his mate’s cock, stroking him slowly as puffs of smoke billowed from his barely open mouth.  A dragon’s smoke could be a drug to their mate, and he wanted James to feel as good as possible.   He captured his mate’s lips with his own, moaning into the kiss before shifting them, so that James was on the couch, laying down, while Grey hovered over him.  His hand still gently stroking his mate’s cock.

James sucked in air sharply when Grey’s hand wrapped around his cock. A shudder washed through his body and he relaxed into the addictive touch, surrendered to the strokes and smoke and the anticipation of what was yet to come.

Moaning quietly he was only temporarily shut up by those beautiful lips on his. Bereft of words, James put his tongue to a better use, tasting and exploring and plundering that hungry mouth against his own. He seemed insatiable himself, rocking his hips and wrapping one arm around Grey’s shoulders, clinging to him like his dear life depended on it.

Eventually James broke the kiss. A gasp and a louder moan escaped his lips, but he soon had wrapped his hand around Grey’s and directed it closer and closer to his mouth. He kissed his fingers, let his tongue visibly dance around his digits before he wrapped his lips around index and middle finger, sucking eagerly, like a promise, and getting them all nice and wet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Grey’s fingers were nice and wet, he gently used one to circle around James’ hole.  Slowly he slipped his digit inside, curling it in just the right way to rub against his mate’s sweet spot.  He panted against the alchemist’s neck, his teeth begging him to bite, though he denied them.  Not yet.  Not until he filled James with his seed.  Not until he fully claimed him. “So needy.  You’ve no idea how sexy that is.  To be wanted by ones mate is the most erotic thing there is for a dragon.” He slowly moved his finger inside of his lover, before gently adding a second, careful not to harm the man beneath him. “You’re going to look so pretty when you cum.”

Both arms wrapped around the other, hands feverishly exploring his lovers skin, nails gently leaving red trails, James welcomed the first finger inside him with a loud moan. He clenched his butt cheeks, teasing Grey with his tightness but immediately shuddered with lust and pleasure when he hit that spot.

“You,” he murmured into the dragon’s ear, hot breath caressing his pinna, teeth sinking into his lobe, “You’ll look so sexy when you cum.” He moaned again, when a second finger was added. “Inside me.”

Relaxing into the stretching James felt more needy than before. He arched his back, he rolled his hips, feeling their trapped, stiff cocks sandwiched between their torsos.

“You’re so hot, Grey”, he had to bite his lip not to succumb to load moans again, “I want to feel you in me.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The dragon chuckled as billows of smoke poured from his mouth, wrapping around them.  These billows of smoke were special and would not set off the fire alarms. Adding a third finger, he quickly finished stretching James for his cock, before pulling his fingers from his mate and lining himself up with his hole. Slowly, Grey pushed into James’ body, moaning as tight, quivering walls wrapped around his pulsing cock.  He groaned as he buried his head in James’ shoulder, his body shuddering with the sensation of being inside of his mate for the first time; after centuries of searching for him. “James…” He locked eyes with the alchemist. “Do you know what it means to own a dragon’s heart?”

James welcomed Grey’s cock inside him with an arched back and a loud moan. A yell. A promise. A name. The name of his mate which rolled so naturally over his tongue as if he had moaned it a thousand times before. Every time he had pleasured himself. Every time other men had stretched him only to prepare him for this very moment.

Though no matter the preparations, Grey’s enormous cock stretched him beyond his limits. James felt himself splitting, moulded around the thick member, his tight walls quivering, aching, every thrust pressing the air out his lungs.

He was so full, so complete. And even though it hurt, the thought of not doing this hurt even more. So he wrapped his arms around the dragon, held onto him, clawed at his back, as if he’d lose him otherwise.

Precum pooled on his abdomen. He was close. So close.

“I know you own mine. My heart. My body. Neither is complete without you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[malcolm-reeds-pineapple]

🎶✨when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) 🎶✨

Gonna do 10 songs cuz I cannot limit these things!!!!! I’m also giving rationale because I don’t have many outlets for these things. Thank you so much @frostysfrenzy !!

I Don’t Smoke No Government Weed - BA Johnston: I’ve seen BA like 8 or 9 times. I love everything that man puts out. This song though?? National anthem material for real. Me and my friends blast this song constantly.

Thirteen - Big Star: I like this song because it’s such a cute song about childhood crushes. I remember being that age and craving that kind of thing, but in the long run, my desire to be constantly playing street hockey won out.

Still Beating - Mac DeMarco: I listened to this song a lot when I first moved out on my own for the first time. I’d been living with my boyfriend and even though we were still together, he was an hour away and it tore me apart even though I didn’t realize it. I gravitated to this song because of the words “honey my heart still beats for you, even though you don’t feel it” and I wrote them on an old Polaroid of us and gave it to him. He still has it and it makes me happy 💖💖

When I Come Around - Nap Eyes: I originally only listened to this song because the music video had footage of my favourite (now closed) bar where I played my first real shows. Now it’s on all my playlists. I’ve seen Nap Eyes a few times but they’ve never played this live and it bums me out.

Stephanie Says - Velvet Underground: I love this song because a) the tune is really is pretty and b) the lyrics are also really sweet. It has the same vibes as Sunday Morning which is a song my dad and I used to listen to a lot over morning coffee when I was young. Stephanie Says for me is both a reminder of my independence as well as an acknowledgement of who and what I love no matter how independent I get.

Chelsea Hotel #2 - Leonard Cohen: this song is absolutely beautiful and I listen to it almost daily. Knowing now that it’s about Janis Joplin makes me love it even more. My grandmother and I both love Leonard so we often listen to this song while we make crafts :,)

Unsatisfied - The Replacements: I first heard this song (the whole album really) just after I’d moved across the country before grade 10. In a lot of ways, the whole album reminds me of how lonely I was and how alienated I felt by the small town I’d moved to. These days, I use this song as a test. Sometimes when my life is at a crossroads, I listen to this song to really ask myself if I’m satisfied. If the answer is no, I make a life change.

Some Might Say (Demo version) - Oasis: I found this version entirely by accident in the summer of 2019 and it’s been one of my favourite songs since. It takes me right back to the time I visit my FWB’s family home and his dad bought me a pack of Du Maurier’s so we could smoke and talk about life together.

An Ending - Brian Eno: I listened to this a lot in the summer of 2019 when I regularly started or ended work at 5am. It reminds me of smoking a cigarette while watching the sunrise, thinking about life the universe and everything.

Further The Thrill - Heaven For Real: I only recently heard this band and I’ve loved them ever since. Me and my girls went to the kick off of their album release tour on a whim and it was one of the few shows to actually blow me away. It was the first time I’d visited my old town since one of my friends passed away and I was really scared of what feelings would be brought up for me. It turned out to be a great night with my girls and I was able to heal from that loss a little bit.