#he’s like cornering you asking you a bunch of fucking personal questions but he’s talking way too fast and muffling himself

[httpscomexe]

Normally bubbly reader overhears/gets told something Logan says and it ruins her

Don't Want Happiness

Logan x Reader

1103 words. A bunch of comfort. Reader hides real emotions. Caring Logan. That's it, just comfort.

You’re a ray of fucking sunshine.

Everyone loves you, and everyone loves that you love everyone.

Except Logan.

He fucking hates it. He hates the way you skip around the halls, the way you hum as you make dinner, the way your eyes fucking light up to the stupidest shit. And the thing that he hated most. That made his blood fucking boil… Was the big ass smile that falls onto your lips every damned time you passed him in the hallways. He doesn’t smile back of course, he only continues on his way and rolls his eyes as he passes you.

“I mean how can she be so fucking happy all the damned time? Then she gives me this dumbass smile every time she fucking sees me.” You stopped around the corner of the living room, hiding behind the wall to hear what they were saying. “I mean Y/N fucking smiled last week after she hurt herself, she was covered in blood and acted like it was nothing but she ended up with third degree fucking burns.” You rub your arm a little, embarrassment creeping up your cheek and you clench the little bag of cookies that you had gotten for movie night in your fist before taking a deep breath and heading into the room. All eyes land on you and some of them smile.

“Heyyy, what’s goin’ on?” You put on your best smile, taking a plastic tray of cookies out of the paper bag in your hand. Some cookies you decorated personally for everyone.

You hand out the cookies, each of them different, and you’re fine until you get to the last one. It had Wolverine on it. He was wearing his little mask and you added little candy hearts onto it to make it look prettier. You hand it to Logan, and he huffs before reaching out and taking it.

“Anyone want any milk?” You ask, a smile still plastered on your face as Storm and Scott raise their hands, taking a bite into their cookie and you chuckle a little when Storms eyes roll and she gives you a thumbs up. She always loves your cookies.

As you enter the kitchen, you hear Scott speak to Logan. “I just don’t understand why that makes you hate her man. She’s happy.” He shrugs. “Why would you wanna change that?”

You walk back in before he can answer, but you see him lean over and whisper something to Scott as you hand the two milk glasses out.

It hurt, but obviously you weren’t gonna take it to heart. Right?

Wrong. Everyone notices it. The way your smile isn’t nearly as big as it normally is, the way you aren’t giving out random sweet treats to your friends, and the way you don’t hum while you’re cooking. But not one single person tries to talk to you, to see what’s wrong.

You make your way to the kitchen, thankful that another teacher has already put on coffee, and it was almost done brewing. But there were no other teachers in the lounge. Fine by you, means you didn’t have to smile at all. You move to the cupboards, taking out your favourite mug and placing it on the counter, then you jump when another mug hits the counter right next to you, a hand attached to it, you follow the hand, arm and then look up to the person's face. Logan. You sigh and groan on the inside but try to throw him a smile anyway. Except, instead of the normal scowl you would receive any other time, it was a confused look, his eyebrow cocked as if you just make the ugliest face known to man. But you ignore the look, moving around him to pour coffee in your mug as his eyes follow you, and you add what you like to your coffee.

“Hey.” Holy shit the devil speaks.

“Hey.” You respond meekly. The only conversation you’ve genuinely had with him.

“What’s goin’ on?” What?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re acting weird. Quiet.” You shrug, opening the fridge and taking out a snack and tossing it on the counter before looking for something else, just wanting to keep yourself busy as he questions you, but then you stiffen, two arms turning you and wrapping around you as Logan drowns you in a hug. You don’t even mean for it to happen when a tear falls down your cheek, and you lean into him as his hand rubs up and down your back.

And it was actually nice. But that asshole is the reason you’re sad. So you step back, wanting to melt into him but holding back.

“Didn’t you want me to be more quiet?” You mumble, him still holding onto you by loosely keeping his hands on your waist.

“What’re you talking about?”

“I heard what you were telling Scott and the others yesterday.” You see his face contort into confusion, and you want to punch him in the nose for acting confused.

“I think you heard it wrong.” He takes another step closer to you, and you’re sure he wants to hug you again, but you cross your arms, waiting for an explanation.

“Scott was saying you hate me… and you hate me being happy and-” You cut yourself off as your throat knots, biting your lip and tearing skin.

“I don’t hate you, I already told Scott that.”

“Then what did you whisper in his ear when I walked in?”

“Exactly that…” His voice becomes more urgent as he tries to stay patient with you. “That I never said I hated you. I just don’t like the way you act.”

“Because I’m happy?” You lift your shoulders, as if you’re offended.

“You’re not happy. Don’t lie to me.” Another tear falls down your cheek. “You can smile all you want, and be as sweet as your fucking cookies, but I know you’re not always a complete ray of fucking sunshine.” He tells you, once again trying to bring you into another hug, but you accept it this time.

“So you don’t hate me?” You sounded horrible, your voice cracking from the knot in your throat.

“No sweetheart, I could never hate you. But if you’re ever having a bad day, don’t just smile at me please.” He tells you. “Nothing will ever hurt you more than a fake smile.” He holds you a little tighter as tears continue trickling down your face.

“And don’t you ever smile again when you’re covered in blood and burnt, it was hot, but you looked like a psychopath.”

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 15 ⬅ch.14

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | nsfw. violence. smut. wc 5.6k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | this chapter is very self-indulgent.,.. my bad. it also begins to stray from canon so uhh sorry if that bothers you.

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“my sources tell me all the VIPs in las almas will be there tonight,” alejandro spoke, turning to face you, ghost, soap, and graves. he took in a breath. “some are invited, others are, umm…”

“volun-told…?” graves concluded. 

“yes.”

“what’s the meet about?”

“us.” he looked a bit apprehensive as he spoke. “las almas is burning, and they want to know who lit the fire.”

“sin nombre will be there, yeah?” ghost asked.

alejandro turned and walked towards ghost. “no guarantees. But this is our best shot.”

“then we take it,” graves said as he made his way into the small circle you were all forming. “I’ve got enough shadows here to take over the whole damn country.”

something about graves unsettled you. it was like he spoke with hidden meanings in each of his words, making you feel unease. but you kept quiet and listened. 

“i’d prefer if you didn’t,” alejandro rebutted. 

“i’m just sayin’... one house shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“we need sin nombre alive,” you added. everyone’s eyes shifted to you.

“well…” graves looked off into the distance as he contemplated. “then we need to meet him.”

“how?” soap questioned, his eyes intently watching graves. 

“give ‘em what they want… intel. they wanna know who’s here. let's tell ‘em.”

alejandro scoffed under his breath. “in person–?”

“correcto.” 

you rolled your eyes at graves and soap bumped your shoulder in silent reprimand, but you saw the corners of his lips curving. 

“get one of us inside, find the boss… roll him up.” graves gestured his hands together as he kept alejandro’s haughty gaze.

there was a brief lull before soap spoke up. “i’ll do it.”

“you go in there, and they’ll kill you, hermano.”

“i’ll take my chances. we came here to stop a missile, let’s stop it. i’ll offer intel for a meet with sin nombre. and if he’s there, we pounce.” 

“hell yeah—you’ve got balls, cabrón,” alejandro said with a sly smirk on his face. “you make it in, you’ll need eyes and ears.”

“i’ll go,” you chimed up.

their heads snapped to you. 

“what? no, you—” soap began, but you cut him off. 

“if one of you go and get caught, they’ll shoot. probably will call the whole fucking house to take you down. but if I go and get caught, i can talk my way out of it.”

soap shook his head. “yeah? how do you plan on doin’ that?”

you shifted on the balls of your feet. “i’m a woman. and it’s a bunch of men…”

alejandro let a breath out through his nose. “sure you wanna handle that?” you appreciated that he didn’t ask if you could handle it, but rather, if you were certain you wanted to.

you nodded. 

“there’s other ways we can go about this,” johnny added. 

“and this puts the least amount of people at risk,” you retorted. soap matched your gaze, assessing you.

ghost tensed beside you. “I’ll take overwatch.”

the rest of the conversation turned to a buzz in your ears. you weren’t sure why you offered to go. maybe because you were worried if one of them got caught, as powerful as these men were, they couldn’t take down an entire house full of killers. 

but if you got caught… you just had to play it off like you were hired to be there. not that you wanted to have to do that, but it felt like you’d be putting their lives at risk if you just sat back and let them handle it when you were perfectly capable of doing your part. 

you all departed from the roof and got geared up; ghost found you alone in one of the few rooms of the safehouse—an abandoned building you were temporarily camping in.

“tryna get yourself killed?”

you jumped slightly at his booming voice and glanced over your shoulder at him. you continued to adjust your outfit as you talked. “what was i supposed to do? sit back and let them be the only ones risking their life? what am i here for then if not to help?”

simon made a noise of dissatisfaction. “you’re a medic, not a spy.”

you spun on your heels to face him and some of the air in your lungs got lost when you saw his bare face. you swallowed, you weren’t sure you were ever going to get used to that—to seeing his face and how at ease he felt around you to strip the ghost facade. “i don’t want to just sit around and wait for someone to get hurt.”

“that’s your fuckin’ job,” he said irritated, his words quieter, but his voice deep and commanding.

“i can handle this,” you finally said, your eyes meeting his.

“i didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“then let me do this!”

he took an exasperated breath. “y’don’t need my permission.”

you sighed, your fingers intertwining anxiously. of course you didn’t need his permission, but you still wanted it. you didn’t want him mad at you.

simon could see the apprehension on your features. “keep your comms on the entire time,” he demanded. you nodded. “n’ the second things go wrong—or look like they might go wrong—you tell me, then get the hell outta there.”

“course.” you gave him a weak smile and he took a step into you. his hand found the back of your head and he pulled you close as he hunched over. you squealed. your lips parted and your hands instinctively grabbed his jacket. there were so many thoughts raging behind simon’s eyes, but he didn’t say a word. he contemplated a few, but he remained silent, his eyes dancing between yours, before closing the space between your two bodies and crashing his lips to yours.

the kiss was fast and full of irritation and indolence. he didn’t just feel the pull towards you because you frustrated him, but the sight of you resting on graves’ shoulders wouldn’t leave his thoughts. he knew it was immature, but that didn’t stop the nagging nature of it. he fisted your hair, roughly moving his mouth against yours, his free hand grabbing your hip. 

and as quickly as it started, it ended. you gasped when he pulled away. his hands remained on you for another moment before he turned around and slid his mask back on, leaving you alone in the small confines of the room.

“shadows on station” you heard graves ring in your ear. 

“copy. all set here.” ghost’s voice was a whisper as he spoke. you could tell from how he grunted his words that he was lying prone, looking down the barrel of his sniper. 

“seein’ room to set down on the roof.”

“check. eyes on two, armed at the front door.”

“iaso, how you doin’?” graves asked you.

“i’m already inside,” you said in a hushed tone as you scaled the inside wall. 

“goddamn, how’d you do that?”

“violently,” alejandro whispered.

“you went with her?” graves asked.

“she needed backup.”

alejandro motioned for you to slide down the adjacent hallway, his intention to split up. 

“visual on soap,” ghost muttered in the comms.

it was starting, and you had to figure out where sin nombre was while soap tried to convince his captors he had valuable intel. no big deal.

“they see him?”

“they do now.”

“kids’ got sand.”

“i hope he makes it…”

“he will,” you finished. 

you turned and watched as alejandro disappeared. he had slipped on one of the cartel’s masks, disguising himself as one of them. while he worked with soap, you were to find a way to el sin nombre. 

the house was huge, so many rooms and hallways, and all of them filled with opulent decor and finery. you slid down one of the multitude of hallways and found an empty room lined with wine bottles. you sighed, your heart racing in your chest.

you were about to slip out of the room when you heard voices in spanish.

“shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“y’okay?” simon immediately chimed in your ear. 

“fine.” you tucked yourself into the corner as two men appeared in the shadows outside the doorway. “trapped in the wine cellar,” you whispered to simon.

he went to respond but went silent when he could hear the voices coming through your side of the comms. 

muffled spanish soon turned into a single english voice as one of the men entered the room. “what’re you doin’ here?” he asked, his voice sending chills down your spine. 

shit, you’ve been in the house all of ten minutes and you were already running into trouble. 

“i was sent to get another bottle,” you said, gesturing to the plethora of alcohol behind the two of you.

“by who?” he asked suspiciously, taking a step closer. you watched his hand grip the gun strapped to his side.

“el sin nombre.” you were taking a risk saying his name. what if he wasn’t even here in the building? you’d surely be outed.

his eyes traced your body and you forced yourself to relax—to act like you were meant to be here. 

“sent me to fetch the wine,” you started, imitating him and stepping closer. you tried to keep your voice low and steady. 

the man quirked a brow, clearly enjoying the way you stalked closer to him. “that so?”

he looked like he was convinced you were a prostitute and you weren’t sure if you were flattered or offended. 

you fluttered your eyelashes and reached out, placing your hand on his chest. you weren’t dressed in a suit like alejandro. you sported tight black pants and a cropped black shirt that showed just enough to be useful in a situation like this without being inconvenient if you had to run.

“i’m a show of appreciation.” your hand glided down his chest and his lips tilted upwards. 

“oh yeah?” his hand found your hip and he pulled you into him making you gasp. 

“iaso,” simon hissed in your ear. 

“n’ how do you plan on showin’ me that?” he asked a bit incredulously.

you steadied your breathing and reached a hand up to brush the side of this man's face. “well…” you paused.

“diego,” he informed you.

“well, diego. i’ll show you however you want me to.” your fingers skimmed his jaw, sliding your hand into the back of his head and into his hair. your voice was surprisingly steady for the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

he pushed you up against one of the wine racks, shaking the platform. “maybe on your knees?” he purred. 

you gulped. you needed to get out of this.

“the bottles. use a fuckin’ wine bottle,” simon growled into your ear, clearly distressed. 

you smiled sweetly at diego, your hands falling down his chest and to his belt. he grinned, watching your motions. one of your hands slid behind your back and gripped a bottleneck tightly in your fingers. 

your other hand worked his belt as a distraction, successfully getting him to drop his guards and take in the sight of you before him. before you could fully unloop his belt buckle, you swung the wine bottle from behind your back and crashed it as hard as you could against the side of his head.

it shattered and the red liquid went everywhere, including all over your clothes. 

diego’s eyes looked stunned for the brief moment they were locked on you before he fell to his knees and flopped to his side. he was knocked out.

“fuck. i can’t believe i did that,” you said in disbelief. a man almost twice your size lay unconscious on the floor before you, and it was all your doing. a little swell of pride swam through you before you steadied yourself and remembered you were here to do a job.

“he’s down,” you told simon. 

simon cursed to himself in relief. “bloody hell,” he mumbled exasperated. 

before you could reply, soap’s voice echoed in your ear. “el sinombre is in the penthouse. third floor.”

“elevator is a straight shot. we just need diego’s keycard.”

you crouched down and searched the unconscious man at your feet, digging through his suit pockets and seeing if he had anything of importance on him. 

“where’s diego?” ghost asked. 

“the offrenda. second floor.”

hearing alejandro’s words made something click inside you. you recalled the men approaching the wine room, muttering something about an ofrenda. when you pulled out a plastic card from the man’s pockets, you examined it and realized it was a keycard. it was diego’s keycard. 

“i got it,” you said quietly into the comms, still a little shocked. 

“got what?” soap asked.

“i have diego’s keycard.”

“no shit, iaso. how’d ya get that?”

“violently,” you muttered. you heard alejandro chuckle in response. 

“you on the second floor then, hermana?”

“yeah.”

“meet us at the north side stairs. Las escaleras estaban vacías antes. no guards. you think you can find it?”

you nodded then realized they couldn't see you. “yes.”

you slid out of the room, walking as quietly as you could, trying to orientate yourself enough to find the north stairs. you turned down the luxurious halls and gawked at the ostentatious decor. with your eyes preoccupied you didn’t see the man come around the hallway corner. 

“hey! what are you doing down here?”

you tried to keep your face from balking. “i… el sin nombre hired me.”

the man quirked a brow and approached you. your chest tightened in nerves. “relax,” you heard simon in your ear. 

you felt like shit. you were distracting simon. he was supposed to be keeping an eye on soap, not listening in to what you were doing. you could practically see him now as he scanned the roof through his rifle, but his ears were focused on you. maybe it was a bad idea to have volunteered to act as eyes on the inside. 

“then why are you down here?” the man asked again. as he got closer, you fully took in his size. he was quite a bit taller than you and you spotted a gun strapped to his hip. 

you decided to stick with your other story. “i was just getting more wine.”

he scoffed. “you’re goin’ the wrong way then.”

you bit your lip. “oh, right. thanks.” you turned to leave and he reached out and grabbed your bicep. 

“why don’t you come with me, cariño.”

you gulped. “remember your training,” simon spoke to you. you could clearly hear the tension in his words. 

before you had a chance to properly panic, the man’s arms were being pulled off of you and you heard him choking. he fell to the floor behind you and in his place stood alejandro. 

“you okay, hermana?”

“yeah…” you said exasperated. “thanks.”

“de nada. you got the keycard?”

you pulled it from your pocket and handed it to him. 

you followed him to the stairs and met up with soap. the three of you made it to the penthouse door. soap nodded at you before crouching at the door and tilting his head to ease drop. 

after several moments of alejandro and soap whispering back and forth, it was finally time.

“graves, sin nombre is posing as a female sicaria. we’re moving in. you set?”

“check.”

“ghost?”

“ready.”

“take her alive.”

alejadro kicked down the door, his gun at the ready, and both him and soap began shooting. you braced yourself against the wall, hiding from their line of sight. gunfire made you wince, hoping the two men were okay. 

“don’t let her escape!” you heard alejandro call. 

you darted into the room and out onto the balcony where you heard their voices. several dead bodies lay in your wake as you entered the warm breeze of outside air. you spotted soap as he fumbled with a woman. he had her in cuffs, saying something to her with a scowl on his face. 

as you got closer, the helicopter blowing your hair back, graves called for you all to board. “lets go.”

you came up to stand beside soap and alejandro. then felt hands on your waist from behind. you jumped and turned to find simon looking down at you. “where did you come from?”

soap and alejandro said something to one another, you had ocmpletely tuned them out, their voices carried by the whooshing of the helicopter blades. 

“soon as I heard word you were in the penthouse, i made my way here.”

with simon in front of you, your heart finally settled. you were able to breathe again. and while previous times you wondered if you were cut out for this sort of thing, this time, you knew you were. you felt good. nervous and overwhelmed, but good.

“worried about me, were you?” you teased.

simon’s eyes narrowed in on you and your smirk instantly fell. he was worried about you . 

and selfishly, he hated that he wasn’t there. you held your own back in the larder, but he hated how helpless he felt. and when that other bastard had his arms on you, it was alejandro who took him out. and while he was just grateful he got to you in time, it bothered him that it wasn’t simon ripping that man’s hands from your body. 

his eyes flared as he assessed you. you traced his line of vision to the red that covered your exposed skin. “just wine.”

his body settled but he still seemed more tense than usual. he gestured his head towards the copter and waited for you to turn and go first. you studied him a moment longer before boarding. 

it was late when the men got back from interrogating valeria. you were still in the safehouse, cleaning up. 

simon was silent as he slid into the small room you were occupying—the same one from earlier—and you jumped when you finally realized he was lingering in the doorway. 

“jesus. when did you get there?”

he reached up a hand and tore his mask away. “y’okay?” he asked you. 

you gave him a weak smile and nodded. simon appraised you and you watched as he narrowed in on your neck before striding over to you. he gripped the back of your head and tilted it so he could see your exposed skin. you had red marks on your neck from earlier when the man had stopped you. it didn’t hurt but you knew that wouldn’t matter to him.

simon’s gaze left your neck and switched to your eyes. “i’m okay,” you told him. 

before he could say more, soap called down the hall to the two of you. “goin’ out for drinks! lets fuckin’ go!”

he didn’t give either of you much of a choice. there was still so much you all had to get done, but after a day like today, a drink couldn’t hurt. 

simon dropped his hand and followed behind you as you left the room. he must have slid his mask on in that time because when he strolled into the room, his hand in his jacket pockets, his face was covered again. 

“goin’ like that, lt.?” soap teased. 

“s’wrong with this?” he asked incredulously, though you suspected he knew his outfit was a bit… intimidating. 

when you all finally got to the bar—after simon stripped his vest and other unnecessary gear, as well as forfeiting his hard-shell mask for his simple balaclava—the atmosphere was more welcoming than you thought it would be. 

spanish music played on the speakers and the warm air rushed in through the open windows, hugging your body in a pleasant embrace. 

alejandro went to the bar and ordered a round of drinks for everyone. 

it didn’t take long for you to feel tipsy, laughing animatedly at something graves said while you clutched a beer. the lot of you seemed to be having fun for once. the laughter felt so natural on soap, it made your heart grow slightly. you were just happy everyone was okay and you made it out of there alive today. 

ghost stood across on the other side of the table, his eyes tracing you the entire night. he watched as johnny swung an arm around you and mumbled drunken nonsense in your ear. he watched as you laughed loudly in response. he watched as graves joined in and sent a crude remark your way that made your cheeks flush ever so slightly—and simon knew it wasn’t from the alcohol. he watched as the men seemed to soak up your presence. you fit right in. he should be glad. 

fucking hell, he hated this. this is why he couldn’t do relationships. he was no good at them. he didn’t know how to navigate them. he knew he had no right to be jealous just because you were having fun. but he’d be lying if he said watching you with other men didn’t send an angry pang through his chest. 

his eyes narrowed, his jaw tensing under his mask, as he watched graves rest a hand on your shoulder. there was nothing simon could do; the two of you were not publicly a couple. he had to sit in irate silence as you seemed oblivious to graves’ advances. ever since his comments back in the humvee, he knew graves had his eyes on you. and he didn’t like it. he almost considered telling him to back off, but he would have been out of line. 

in this moment, three beers in, he was starting to put caution to the wind. some carnal and primal force inside him was escaping and telling him to claim you. to mark you as his in front of everyone. 

his hands twitched on the glass beer bottle. soap slapped simon on the back and said something to him but he didn’t hear it at all—it was white noise to him. 

graves’ fingers slid under your chin and tilted your head to look up at him. your eyes widened in shock, a bit unsure of what to do. and that was simon’s final straw. he left his beer on the table, sick of having to lift his mask to drink it anyway, and took several long strides to you. you jumped when you felt his hand on your lower back. 

graves looked up at simon and seemed irritated that he was ruining this moment for him. simon couldn’t believe it, graves was pissed at him for being a cockblock. and that pissed him off even further. he pried graves’ hand away from you, uncaring of what he might think. he had to control himself to not crush it in his palm.

he’d blame it on the booze, but simon was a big guy, in reality, three beers were barely giving him a buzz. 

“the hell?” graves cursed.

you mouthed simon’s name and he grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd and outside of the bar. you stumbled after him, trying to catch up as he had you in tow. 

“stop!” you finally called, stumbling over the cobblestone street. 

he halted and turned to face you, dropping your hand. you caught your breath before speaking. “what’s gotten into—”

before you could even finish your sentence, simon had pushed you into a small alleyway beside the bar, his body pinning you to the brick wall. his mask was hiked up and his lips were on yours before you had time to think. you gasped but your body quickly reciprocated. his hands held your hips tightly before one slid up your side and onto the back of your neck. he pushed against you and your head got a bit dizzy. he was desperate in the way he was pawing at you.

“you’re mine,” he muttered between kisses. 

heat coursed through you at his words, his voice low and gravely as he spoke. you could feel the anger radiating off of him. he was jealous . 

you wanted to tell him he had nothing to be jealous of, you didn’t even like graves, let alone in a romantic way. but when he pulled away, you didn’t have time to speak when he interlaced your fingers and dragged you all the way back to the safehouse—which was conveniently only a few blocks from the las almas bar. 

simon pulled you into the small safehouse and slammed you up against the door the second it closed, his lips attacking yours, his mask dropping to the floor. he kissed down your jaw and onto your neck. you struggled to hold on to him, your words getting caught in your throat. 

“si-simon, what are—” you groaned when he nipped at your skin. all rationale abandoned you. the fire from simon’s hands along your curves made you forget why you were trying to stop him. why would you want this to end?

if anything, you wanted more. 

his hands crept down your back and over the curve of your ass, dragging you against him. he stumbled with you, his lips never leaving your body, barely able to drag you into one of the small rooms before stripping you. he tugged at the hem of your shirt, wanting to pry it from your chest. 

you stood back slightly so he had enough room to strip you of it. “what—what if someone comes back?” you said breathlessly. 

his hand maneuvered into your hair, backing you up against the small cot in the room. you fell back and he crawled on top of you, parting your legs to give him space. “doesn’t matter,” he grumbled. 

he hooked the waistband of your pants and began to yank them down. he was impatient. desperate. 

he removed his sweatshirt before blindly tangling his fingers with his belt, trying to shove his pants down. your eyes rounded in the dark, taking in the sight of him. he was raw; showing you just how much he could feel. he needed you. wanted you. wanted you all to himself. 

he was back between your legs his fingers sliding into your underwear, feeling just how wet you had already become. he gave you a sly grin. “what if they hear?” you asked in a last attempt at your sanity. 

simon clicked his tongue. “let ‘em.”

you swallowed hard when he slid a finger inside you. let them listen?! you’d never be able to face them again out of sheer embarrassment. and what happened to him agreeing to keep this thing between you two private for the time being?

his eyes darkened, running a hand up your side and groping your breast over your bra. “want ‘em to know you’re mine.”

you sucked in a breath of air, your heart thumping loudly in your chest. he pulled your bra down enough to expose your breast and gave it another squeeze before removing both his hands from you. you pouted at the loss. he gripped your thighs and hiked them up slightly so he could wedge himself more properly between your legs. he pushed your underwear to the side and lined his cock up with your entrance. 

you were a bit taken aback at how fast he was doing everything. this was only going to be the second time you had sex with him. your hands held his biceps as he nudged his way into you, wasting no time. he groaned and you held your breath. “fuck,” he mouthed, both of you looking down to where your bodies connected.

he guided himself in painfully slow, the feeling so overwhelming you couldn’t help but whimper. 

your noises seemed to spur him on more because he jolted his hips a bit. he pulled back and then edged in. he kept doing that until he was able to fill you to the hilt. then he began a steady rhythm. “god, you’re so fuckin’ tight, love.”

your hands fought between running through his short hair and scratching along his back. he picked up speed and your eyes fluttered shut. “oh my god,” you said softly. 

simon shifted your legs so your knees were being pushed back towards the bed, your thighs up against him. you squealed at the position change. he was able to hit you far deeper like this. his fingers snaked to your chin and shook you ever so gently. “look at me,” he demanded. his hand slid to rest around your neck, his thumb stroking your jaw.

your eyes opened and were met with his, his nose almost touching yours. "you're mine. all fuckin' mine," he managed to get out through strained breaths. “you’re fuckin' my girl, ” he grunted, "you're my fuckin' girl." your lips parted and he met your hips with his own in a hard thrust. “my fuckin’ girl,” he said a bit more aggressively and feral. you nodded, unable to form coherent words. his eyes narrowed in on you. “you’re— thrust —my— thrust —fuckin’— thrust —girl.”

you couldn’t tell if he was repeating it because he wanted you to acknowledge it, to tell him you were in fact his. or because he was trying to convince himself.

“yes,” you mewled. “m’yours.”

“my fuckin’ girl,” he growled as he continued his hard thrusts. he didn’t like the men talking to you like you were single. available. like he wasn’t sitting right there. you were his whether they knew it or not. and a sick part of him hoped the men came back—at least graves—and were forced to hear the way you cried for him. he wanted them to know how good he was fucking you. he wanted them to know you were his. and his alone. 

he pulled out of you and flipped you onto your stomach before you had time to protest. he pulled your hips up so your back arched and he slid back into you. your hands fisted the sheets of the simple bed, hoping you two wouldn’t break it. that would be difficult to explain to the others. though, you had a feeling simon would actually like that to happen. 

his fingers dug into the fat along your waist and hips and you groaned every time he pulled you back into him. 

you were embarrassed at how close you already were. you shouldn’t be so turned on from simon being so possessive. shouldn’t that be a red flag? but you didn’t care. all you knew was the way he was fucking you right now felt better than any other man had ever felt against you. and the way his deep voice uttered those words “my girl ,” had you swooning. you could listen to him call you that all day. you wanted him to claim you. you wanted him to know you were his. 

he felt you clench around him and he moaned. “close, princess?” he asked you, his accent heavier than usual. 

you nodded against the mattress and he chuckled. but his laugh quickly turned to a long groan and a few curses as you tightened against him. you were so fucking tight. and he was so fucking close. 

“my girl wanna come?” he all but growled.

“y-yes!”

the sight of you was everything to him. seeing you pushed into the bed before him, your knuckles whitening from how tightly you were gripping the bedsheets, your back arched, your body safe. you were safe. he couldn’t protect you today, but you. were. safe . 

so many feelings had brewed in his chest these past few days. this new and strong connection he felt with you. jealousy from even the smallest glance another man gave you. fear for your safety as you acted recklessly. anger that he wasn’t always the one there saving you. 

you were going to be the absolute death of him.

“this cunt is all fuckin' mine. you hear me, pet? all. mine.”

you cried his name and that was enough to send him tipping over the edge. “shit,” he cursed. 

you spasmed around him, your legs shaking, your hips pushing back to meet each of his thrusts. 

simon released inside you, following your orgasm closely. “take it. take it all,” he said through strained lips. he continued to pump himself into you, his thrusts becoming more languid. 

he finally slowed, both of you catching your breath and steadying your heart. he stilled inside you for a few brief moments, white liquid escaping around his cock, as he took in the sight before pulling out and collapsing on top of you, yanking you into his arms. 

you rolled over so you could face him and his hand locked behind your lower back. he kept your gaze and you drew a hand up to softly trace the side of his scarred face. his eyes fluttered from your delicate touch. he forgot how gentle touch could be. not everything had to be rough and violent, as much as he enjoyed that. feeling your tiny fingers ghosting his skin felt better than any relief he got from killing men. far more.

“you don’t have to be jealous, you know.”

“m’not jealous,” he said, tucking your head under his chin so you couldn’t see his face. 

“right,” you mumbled. 

you laid with him wrapped around you for several minutes before you broke the silence. “we should get up before they come back.”

“mmm. why?” his words rumbled in his chest, his voice hoarse, clearly exhausted. 

“you know why,” you said in faux annoyance. 

“they’ll all be sloshed. gonna stumble in ‘n’ collapse wherever they can. no one will b’lookin’ for us.”

you were plastered to his side. if you tried to move at all, you’d fall off the cot that was clearly made for one person. 

sensing you might protest, simon began stroking your hair, his other hand rubbing circles on your bare back. you sighed, feeling safe and loved. you didn’t want to get up as he touched you so gently and lovingly. so you snuggled up closer to him and his grip tightened. 

“mine,” he muttered quietly before kissing the top of your head.

OKAY THE WHOLE "MY GIRL" SCENE CAME FROM A NSFW BADJHUR AUDIO LMAOOO. he says "my girl" in such a feral and simon-esque way that it literally sparked the whole idea for this chapter. this is it if you wanna hear it... it's very nsfw just fyi (24:05 is the timestamp where he says it 😇)

[eldritch-spouse]

A short yandere monster (Fasma, Rei, and the servants) is leaning against a wall. On the other side a Y/N on the phone with a friend. She is talking standard stuff until it veers to personal tastes. Proceeds to gush about how they find short guys/gals attractive and cute, hot, etc. The convo shifts to different things Y/N want to do to them/ them do to Y/N ending with: "I haven't had any luck… Well, the next person I see 5'0 or under I'm taking them out on a nice romantic date. Then I'm takin' em home and doing some bedroom olympics💕💋" What would their reaction be to hearing all this?

Fasma accidentally inhales his cigarette and stumbles around trying to cough or fish it out. He stumbles over to your side of the wall on accident and honestly hopes the ground will swallow him whole.

Rei just fucking intrudes on your conversation. "EY, I heard you're thirsty for shortstacks. Today's yer lucky day!" He expects you to take his phone number if you're not going to immediately fuck him in the next most convenient location.

Lacai likewise doesn't directly intrude, but he'll make it a point to show up beside you a little bit after the call you just had. He can't curb the smartass smile when you cast him several nervous glances. He'll start conversation smoothly but always keep himself a bit too close to let you relax.

Nena's little heart almost combusts right then and there. She's so excited, her tail is swatting hard enough to ride her work dress up. Now that she knows you could be into the height difference, she flees home to pick her most delicious outfit and will follow you the next time you're out and about.

Jayde is a bit normal about this. He tries not to let a small smirk crack on his face as he gets rid of his watch and makes it seem as if he's a little lost, rounding the corner to ask you for the time, making small talk when you give him directions to a location he asked about. He hopes he can get you engaged enough to at least consider keeping his phone number or letting him buy you something for the kindness.

Roch actually has to pinch himself a couple times to make sure he's not having a lucid dream. He's the most awake he's been in a while when he shows up and quietly asks if you saw one of his personal belongings he totally lost around the area. The search is pointless, but he thanks you for the consideration anyway while he introduces himself and says he hopes he can see you again.

Eleri is suddenly obsessively checking their outfit and doing their best to guess what else you might like in a person besides height. They can't fuck this up, they already have a good start!! Ironically, you'll hear them start chatting with someone else nearby as Eleri very not-subtly waxes poetic about ""tall"" humans that look suspiciously like you.

Flints rakes his claws on that wall in a fit of rabid excitement. In a bit of a dick move, he pretends to be passing by and knocks you off balance "accidentally", excusing himself quietly as he picks your phone up for you and asks if it's damaged so he can pay for any possible repairs. Well, if you see anything off with it later, here's his number.

Rieba nearly vibrates her way over to you and pretends she's never been in the surface before, asking you a bunch of stupid questions before locating the nearest snack machine and getting two of the same item, handing you the spare as a thank you for your time. Come on, she's short and she's feeding you, that's gotta get you to pay her attention.

[aerodaltonimperial]

Hi hello, almost kisses that are interrupted by a third party for junglecorpse pls 🥰

Nick has a singles match in his first PPV, and Shayna throws a party. It's good; Nick's worked his ass off for this, and it's a huge honor to get somethin' like that so damn young. And mostly, it ends up being an excuse to get a bunch of the roster that they like over and hyped up, and Darby can respect that. They deserve to have this happiness. It's been long enough, the house is too quiet.

And at least Shayna gave Darby some spots on the invite list. As many as he wanted, probably, because that's just what she does, but in the end, he only wrote one name down. She might not even really have noticed with all the planning, since she never said anything. He was reasonably sure she'd corner him and ask about it, given... everything.

There's quite a bit of booze. That's kind of a staple at shindigs like this, really. He's pretty sure Orange is on, like, his fourth beer already, and the man has barely even blinked. Fascinating. Darby weaves through the raucous laughter and Nick back pats and shop talk to get to the kitchen where he finds his guest of honor, sitting quietly with a Red Bull clutched between his palms like a lifeline.

"Hey," Darby says.

"Hey," Jack returns. He looks terribly out of place, but maybe it's the leather jacket and the aviators and all the bullshit he seems to enjoy so much lately.

Darby opens the fridge, stares at the rows of bottles and cans. Jack must've found one of Nick's stash, since the fucker is still underage. Darby ends up choosing nothing and closing the door again. "Having fun?"

Jack eyes him for a minute, a sardonic sort of smile on his face. "I, uh, I'm not really sure why I'm here."

That's an opening, and oh, Darby's great at taking those. He grins, arches his eyebrows, and asks, "You wanna see the ring out back?"

Another beat. Then, Jack says, "Sure."

Jack follows Darby out the back door and into the cool air. Seattle's kind of perpetually moist, the sort of place that's always holding just a little bit of rain in reserve. There's really only the one motion-sensor torch between the back door and the garage, and it clicks on as they pass, flooding the grass with yellow. Darby pulls open the door and only hits one of the mounted lanterns, so it's still fairly dark inside.

"This is it, huh?" Jack asks. He makes a circle within, but the ring takes up most of the available space.

"This is it," Darby agrees. He watches—mostly because the way the light catches on Jack's stubble beard is enticing, and the way the man turns, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, bears some of his discarded personality traits. It's hard to describe him as soft now, but Darby can still see the tendrils of it when he squints. "Spent a lot of time here."

Jack's gaze flits to Darby's face. "Does everyone get a tour?"

"Nah," Darby says, and grins. "Just the lucky ones."

Jack goes to the apron and raps his knuckles on the ring surface beneath the ropes. He seems unsure, so Darby makes the decision for him. "Going up?"

That seems to be all Jack needs. He hops up and ducks between the ropes. Then he bounces a bit near the center, knees snapping. Darby follows him in. He's not dressed for this, with his sweatshirt and jeans, but neither is Jack, and besides, Darby doesn't want to actually fight the man. It's just intoxicating to be here with him, in this place. With no one else.

"You invited me?" Jack says, and it's not a question. Maybe he's catching on, if the way he's taken his hands out of his pockets and flexed his fingers is any indication.

"Well, don't read too much into it," Darby replies. "I invited Sammy, too."

Jack's eyebrows arch. "Really?"

"No. Fuck that guy."

Jack laughs: loud and bright, and oh, man, it's been awhile since Darby heard that. There's something about the way Jack laughs, too, that warms him from the inside out. And Darby lunges at him, tries to catch him off-guard in the tail end of it. Misses, but not by much, and Jack has to skip off to the side to avoid it.

"Kind of an asshole, you know?" Jack says. "You haven't talked to me in months, and then, what... you throw an invitation in here?" Jack drops, leg outstretched, and almost knocks Darby over when he swings it across the ring surface. "How badly did you want me to show up?"

"More than Trent," Darby replies. He grabs for Jack's arms, gets one for a few seconds before Jack wriggles free. "More than Ricky, for sure."

"Too easy," Jack says. "Try something harder. More than Sting?"

He ends up going down again, gets his legs around Darby's calf and topples him. At least Darby was sort of expecting that move; he hits the mat with both palms and flips, taking Jack over with him as he falls. Ends up on top of the man, knees on either side of Jack's legs.

"That's not a fair comparison," Darby replies, and fuck, he's breathing fast. His heart's stuck up in his throat, all swollen and clingy.

"Why not?" Jack asks, before aiming for Darby's shoulder with his elbow. If he'd hit, that might have really hurt, but Darby grabs his wrist, slams it down onto the ring. Gets his other hand, too, for good measure, and it probably sinks in slower than it should that he's got Jack's wrists pinned, hunched on all fours over the guy.

Jack's staring up at him, too, with those wide fucking eyes that gleam impossibly bright.

"Different categories," Darby murmurs, and their faces are close enough that he can feel the heat of Jack's hitched breaths.

"What does that mean?" Jack whispers. He isn't trying to get out of the hold any longer, but Darby can feel his muscles trembling all the same.

Darby leans closer, gets his mouth so it skims across Jack's jaw when he replies, very low, "I don't wanna kiss Sting."

Jack sort of groans. Sort of, because it's strained and not unhappy, and he shifts his arms just enough to slide their palms together, tangling their fingers. His eyes are so fucking dark and so fucking big, and he smells like a tang of aftershave, and all Darby wants is to lick his way into Jack's mouth, which he's nearly close enough to do, and Jack's got his lips parted, leaning up to meet him, and—

"Oh, goodness!" Shayna, from the entry. Darby scurries off of Jack's form as she's got her hands on the door. "I didn't know you were in here! I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Then she directs her index finger towards him, all business. "Ten minutes, Darby, and you bring him inside for a proper introduction."

Darby's never had a hard-on shrivel that fast before. He grimaces into his hand as Shayna struggles the door closed again, and Jack, the absolute shit, pushes up on his elbows. He's laughing.

"That felt like getting caught by your mom," he says, with the widest, most obnoxious smile.

"That was worse than getting caught by my mom," Darby moans. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Jack gets up onto his feet, and then holds his hand out to help Darby up. "You lack follow-through on the planning."

"Shut up," Darby grumbles, but he does accept the hand.

Jack pulls him up, and, without warning, keeps tugging, hauls Darby forward further. Gets their mouths mashed together with his fingers wrapped around Darby's, and he tastes like Red Bull. Darby does lick into the corner of his lips just to get a stronger burst of it. Fuck, he really loves the way Jack kisses his mouth apart, demands more just to pull away again.

"Come on," Jack murmurs, close enough that Darby gets the bristles of his beard dragging across his chin. "You have to go introduce me. Better make it good. What're you gonna go with?"

"An asshole," Darby laughs, and only half means it.

[zeroducks-2]

okay okay hi!!! decided to use your dark prompts list for this and please 7 + P for eoiris or eobariris, completely up to you <33

HI HELLO I LOVE THIS OK

7. Truth Serum + P. "Don't back off now" - Eobard Thawne/Iris West (with background Newsflash)

(TW: long post, captivity, non-graphic violence)

She’s been out of it for most of the time, consciousness slipping and then coming back as her own voice fills her ears with startled little cries, and half-hearted attempts at flailing while she’s moved around. Then she got strapped to a chair, a metallic thing which is so cold against her body that it brings her back some more, making her aware of the probes which are being attached to her wrists and temples. The people around her are dressed with some sort of medical gear. Alright, this isn’t the usual kidnapping. 

She tries to speak but her mouth is pasty, her tongue won’t move. And whoever these people are, they don’t seem to like it that she woke up, talking quietly among each other before pressing a plastic mask to her face, the gas canister it’s connected to making her eyes grow droopy. Iris hopes these fuckers can at least see her glare before she goes back under.

It’s this for a while, impossible to know how long since they keep her drugged. She’s asked questions when she’s awake - trivial things like her favorite color or the name of a childhood pet. Every time the answer pops in her mind she can hear mechanical beeps and whirrs, and she never speaks but the people around her do, always in hushed tones even if at times their voices sound more excited. The person who talks to her is always the same, a man in tactical gear. There are more of them; sometimes she glimpses them walking along a railing up ahead, but this one has to be a higher rank. Someone called him Colonel at some point. She’s pretty sure she wasn’t dreaming when she heard it. “Miss West”, he usually calls her before asking a question, and one of those times she mentally replies with an insult so colorful that someone from the lab-coats bunch snorts audibly. Which in turn gives her the confirmation that they’re doing something that allows them to peek into her head, somehow discerning her answers through whatever machine they’re using.

And so she starts trying not to give them any answer, but whatever they’re using to drug her has to function as some sort of truth serum, because it proves really hard to keep any information to herself. It surely is a muscle relaxant among other things, keeping her unable to try to pry her restraints open. It’s unlike her to rely on his intervention but she is indeed starting to wonder where Barry might be, and also to get worried because it has to be days since she was taken here. More than one, at least. It’s odd that he hasn’t found her yet. 

«Miss West.» The man in tactical gear greets after sitting next to her. Iris blinks at the unremarkable features of his face, her mind blank aside for the fact that she’s sore all over, and really tired of this. «You’ve proven to be a good test subject, and we thank you for all the help you’ve given us.» Alright, that doesn’t sound good. She can feel her chest swell, and the higher beeping of one of the machines must mean her heart is beating faster. No one seems to pay it any mind. «We do have a couple more questions for you, and then we can consider our collaboration complete.» He clears his throat. And then asks, «What’s the civilian identity of the Flash?»

Fuck you, Iris thinks, glaring at him from her spot. 

«What’s the civilian identity of the Flash, Miss West? His name.»

She thinks of the red of his suit, the blue of his eyes, the way they crinkle at the corners when he smiles a certain way. He’s always late. She loves him so much. She bites her tongue, and the surprise she feels at being able to snap her jaw hard enough to draw blood distracts her.

«You were correct, Colonel. It’s her.» Someone says, someone from the lab-coats bunch. «No name yet though, she’s guarding it well.»

«Of course it’s her, the info comes directly from the source.» The man in tactical gear replies, shifting on his spot on a way more comfortable-looking chair. «We need a name, Miss West. What is the name of the Flash?»

John Smith, Iris thinks, staring him directly in the eyes. He sighs and stands up. 

«She needs another dose.» He declares, but when he gets close enough with a full canister of drug, Iris tilts her chin up just that little bit she needs to spit on his face. It’s mostly blood and it hits him square on the cheek. «Fucking bitch.» The man hisses, smushing the plastic mask on her face forcefully enough to hurt. She holds her breath and keeps glaring. Might as well fight until the last second.

A light above them bursts, then another. The man straightens up and draws a gun from his belt, lightning cracks and some of the machines beep hard and then turn down. Barry…? She thinks as the canister drops, allowing her to take a mouthful of air.Someone screams from above, energy bursts go off. These people don’t have normal guns, it’s something clearly intended to hurt more than humans. Loud cracks like the ground was splitting apart force Iris to wince, more people scream and flashes of light brighten the black of her closed eyes. This is not Barry. The air crackles with static, and when she looks again there’s a spatter of blood over the buzzing machines right in front of her, and the Reverse Flash is looking in her direction, expression plain as he lets go of the limp body of one of the men in a lab-coat. They fall boneless with a dull thud, unlike a living person ever could.

The red forks of lightning settle to a more contained shimmer, and Iris just stares back for a beat, then another, then she realizes that the man in tactical gear is not near her anymore. 

Thawne’s eyes lose their inhuman quality for an instant, long enough for Iris to see him roll them up with a quiet huff. He’s smiling though. 

«Running, really…?» He shakes his hand and the blood on it splatters on the floor, leaving his yellow suit entirely clean. «Don’t back off now, I only just arrived…»

He’s not there a moment later. Then he’s back, holding the man by his neck just below the jaw, high enough his feet don’t touch the floor. He shoots but Thawne pushes his arm up and the charge lands on the ceiling, more sparks raining on them as another light bursts. 

«Don’t…» Iris tries to say but her speech is slurred, she hasn’t used her mouth for words in quite a while. Her tongue also hurts. «St-op, need… alive-»

«No we don’t.»

A scream fills the otherwise almost entirely quiet room, and Iris prefers not to look. She realizes they’ve all been killed, everyone else. The people in lab-coats, the ones who patrolled the high railing, likely also whoever was at the doors of this room. She keeps not looking when the man in yellow falls into a crouch just before her, and closes her eyes when a hand reaches out to her. «Hello, Iris.» Thawne says conversationally, like they just met by accident along the way to the grocery store. «I would hope you haven’t been harmed in ways I cannot see.»

The metallic band around her forehead comes off, and her head would drop but instead it lolls into a palm and is held up. The relief of not having anything tight on her temples is enough for her to lose it for a few moments, and when she’s blinking again she’s being pulled away from that chair, her breathing somehow shallow, all the bindings broken and the probes having come off. 

She knows she’s not going to be able to stand on her feet but it’s not necessary, she’s still held. Tight enough, not too much. Her head spins, it feels like it’s the first time in years that she leaves that metal chair and her body is allowed in a different position.

«You’re alright. You’re alright now.» She’s being shushed, and she realizes her eyes are swelling. How long has she been there? Had she stopped hoping to get out of this alive…? «I’ll get you to Barry, and then I’ll bring both of you out of here.»

So Barry is there, too. She thought he might have been because of something that man had said, about getting information from the source. She can’t fully remember now. She’s so tired and can’t still fully process that she isn’t tied to a chair anymore. «You… you killed that man.» She whispers, realizing Thawne pulled down his cowl. «He could… could’ve had…»

«Iris, I come from the future.» The man replies with a vaguely chiding tone. He props her up against his own chest and sighs, and Iris feels her own weight come down as Eobard’s chest deflates. «I already know everything which might be useful to us.» The touch on her cheek comes back and brings her to look up. She has no idea what Thawne is seeing on her face which makes his vague smile disappear, a somber look replacing it as his thumb traces the line of her cheekbone. «And he deserved to die anyway.» He adds in a low whisper, cupping the entire side of her face before leaning down to kiss her forehead. «I should have made it more painful.»

Then they stand up. She thinks they will start running any second now, and so reflexively holds onto him and tucks down against his chest. Lightning crackles around them and a palm comes up to the side of her head, shielding her and holding her close.

Here's the ask game! Feel free to prompt me again or to reblog it yourself :D

[reanbowful]

Hiyoo^^ I’ve been reading your stuff and let me tell you I.am.in.love.

Can I request the union boys and maybe gray and the boys with a s/o that’s really good at fighting. Kinda like Mikey or Senju from Tokyo revengers.

~Thank you🌸

Hi anon!! AAA THANK YOU SO MUCHH! And yes plss baddie reader 😘

Also, whoever you are, I hope you’re not a Jimmy stan because I really dk how to write for him 😭

“hot blooded youth”

if you can fight well

*harsh languages, implications of SA in Ben’s part (not towards the reader)

(jake, gerard, donald, gray, wolf, ben)

jake ji / ji hakho

Jake was walking to class, heading up the stairs when he heard some faint yelling under the alleyway.

He scrunched his eyebrows, leaning forward to see two girls seemingly arguing down there. One of the girls have bandages all over her face. The other one, the shorter one, sports a casted arm.

“Subin-ah.. I’m sorry. I told you I was sorry, didn’t I?”

“Huh.. n-no. I’m sorry too..”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU AVOIDING ME?!”

The short girl winced at the loud voice, backing herself away into the corner.

“W-what? But, you were kicked out of school.. and y/n-“

“Oh yeah. Y/N. You know what, call that bitch. Actually, GO SCREAM HER NAME! SEE IF SHE’S GONNA COME SAVE YOU THIS TIME AROUND!”

Jake is now on high alert. His hand is already unclasping the windowsill.

He was about to jump down when he saw your figure rounding up the corner.

With one hard pull on the collar, the taller girl fell backwards. Losing her sense of balance.

“You fucking scum. I told you I’ll kill you if you ever go near her again, didn’t I?”

The girl struggled to get up, stumbling around when she does. Seemingly akin to that of a drunk person.

“Why.. WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING THAT BITCH?! I WAS YOUR FRIEND FIRST!!!”

Picking up a stray broken piece of glass, the girl charged at you.

This was the moment Jake decided to jump down.

What he didn’t expect was you evading that swing, twisting her arm as you go, and kicking her to the ground. You picked that piece of broken glass up.

“You- Did you seriously even try to think up that question just now? Why? Because unlike you, Subin is not a goddamn psychopathic narco.”

You threw the piece of glass away from her reach, heading towards your shaking friend.

“You good?”

“Ah? Oh. Yes, I’m fine. Thanks, y/n.”

Jake stared at you, in complete awe at what he just saw.

When you left with your friend, he would approach the booze smelling girl and ask.

“Yo. So, you know y/n? Can I have her number?”

gerard jin / jin gayool

Gerard has been noticing you for a few weeks now.

You worked at the karaoke room down the street.

You were Teddy’s middle school friend. Well, not really friend. But you used to go to Seong-Il.

Teddy offered to give him your contact, but he refused. Wanting to introduce himself to you face to face. (old fashioned cutie)

So when he finished his shift early, he thought it was the perfect opportunity.

He bought some drinks, one of each kind since he doesn’t know which one you’d prefer.

While he was walking towards your work place, Gerard noticed a couple of girls, maybe around 4 of them rushing in front of him.

“You sure this is where the bitch works?”

“Yeah, I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, we’ll teach that bitch a lesson alright.”

Gerard’s eyes, taken aback. Why are girls so scary these days?

He continued to walk until he reached the front of the karaoke room. Deciding to wait outside as to not disturb your shift.

“You bitch. You think you can talk shit about my friend and expect us not to come for you?”

Hearing a ruckus in the small alleyway beside the shop, Gerard sneaked to peek in.

It was those girls from before. All 4 of them surrounding you, who seemed to be taking out the trash.

“Tch. What the hell..? Are you seriously this pathetic?”

Oh, that seemed to anger her.

“You..! Shut your damn mouth when I’m talking to you!”

Taking a full swing, the girl threw a hard punch to your left jaw.

Gerard stared in shock. He wanted to intervene. But he really didn’t want to fight a bunch of girls.

You grimaced, spitting out the blood that rushed in your mouth from the impact.

Gerard watched as you glared at the girl, looking extremely pissed.

“That hurts, asshole.”

Taking a full fist of hair, you brought the girl down to your knee. Breaking her nose. When she rose up, you throw a punch at her. It was hard enough to hear a deafening crack from the impact.

“Take another step, I’ll give you worse than what she’s having.”

The rest of the girls shivered, dragging their unconscious friend and ran as fast as they could away from there.

Gerard stared in disbelief at the scene. What the heck just happened? He jumped when you called onto him.

“Hey. You here to fight me too?”

“Um.. I bought some drinks?”

You tilt your head, making him gulp.

Wah.. girls really are so scary these days.

donald na / na baekjin

Unlike the rest of the boys on this list, Donald knows that you can fight. At least to an extent.

He knows that you can take care of yourself if something happens, so he doesn’t really worry about you too much.

You’re a de facto Union member. So you often take commissions from Donald for matters that the Union executives can’t reach.

Today, this is the commission.

“I can’t believe it.. y/n, 18 years old, professional babysitter.”

:’)

He made you escort a CEO’s son for the entire day. The man was an important asset for Donald currently, and he needed a babysitter in urgent.

His first thought went to Jake, since, well it’s the most logical choice. But he’s currently out of town visiting his grandparents. He can’t possibly ask Forrest or Jimmy. Or god forbids, Wolf. On a kid sitting job.

So, he asked you.

Plus, the kid seems to like you. So, there should be no issue on that.

“Noona, do you know those guys over there? They keep staring at us and following us for a while now.”

Alerted, you turned your head to where the kid pointed. There was indeed like at least 8 guys in total, some of them leaning by a lamppost, some are in front of convenience stores, and some are blatantly following the two of you.

“It’s okay, just keep walking-”

You suddenly felt a sharp blade pressed against your back.

“Follow us, if you know what’s best for that kid.”

You held the kid’s hand tight in yours. Fuck. This is gonna get messy.

At his office, Donald was still compiling a few contracts for Daehyeon when his phone rang suddenly.

“Yes, y/n?”

Except when he heard the reply on the other end, it wasn’t you. Instead, was heard the cry and wailing of a boy.

“A-ahjussi!! It’s me. I- We-“

Donald was panicking now. What the hell happened? He threw his jacket on, making sure to make his voice as calm as possible.

“Calm down, kid. Take a deep breath. What happened?”

“We were-“

He heard the boy take in a sharp breath, trying hard to calm himself.

“We’re at X road, in the alleyway next to the clothing store by the crossroad. We were attacked, ahjussi..! Right now, noona is- Eh? Noona!”

“Ahjussi, she wants to talk to you.”

Taking the phone into your hand, you groaned as you stand up. Teeth gritting as you clutch to your throbbing side.

“Hey, Donald. Some babysitting that was.”

“Are you okay? Stay still. I’m almost there.”

“Oh fuck off. I’m perfectly fine..”

Donald reached in time as you fell onto his arms in exhaustion. He eyes moved to see the remains of 10 grown dudes all bloodied and battered behind you.

He caressed your head softly, a proud smile on his face.

“You are one scary fucking girl, aren’t you?”

gray yeon / yeon sieun

You were on the way home from cram school with Gray and your other friend.

The poor girl came up to you and Gray saying that she has been getting harassed for a while by some older guy near the school.

You offered to walk her home. Fearless as always.

Gray decided to come along since he’s worried shitless that something bad will happen to you. He has no idea.

“Hey, Missy. I see you’ve decided to bring your friends over. Let’s have some fun, okay? All three of us!”

The girl scooted over behind you, holding your uniform tightly. Obviously scared out of her wits.

You extended your arm to her side protectively. Gray already calculating ways to defeat the guy if they decide to get violent.

“Sure!”

Gray’s eyes widened when you brought the guy twice your size down to his knees with a single kick.

“Let’s have lots of fun, Mister! You and me!”

Gray had wanted to stop you, he really does. But his body couldn’t move an inch, and he felt a chilling sensation seeing you be so violent like that.

“P-please..! Stop-“

Clicking your tongue, you stood and sent him another kick across his face.

“What are you saying? We’re having fun, aren’t we?”

The guy was now quivering pathetically, looking up at your empty eyes with fear.

You throw your fist, watching as the man braced for impact.

“That’s enough! Y/N.. that’s enough..”

You looked at the girl, tears are free falling from her eyes. Sniffling profusely next to Gray.

You sighed.

“Next time, if I even see your face in this part of town, I will personally kill you. Now scram.”

The man scattered to get up, running away as fast as he could.

Picking your bag up from the ground, you threw both frozen figures behind you a cheery smile.

“Whew. That got me worked up a little. Hey, don’t worry. He won’t be coming back no more. Now, let’s go home!”

He’s suddenly really glad you guys are on the same side together.

wolf keum / keum seongje

I think Wolf, like Donald, would also be proud if you could fight well.

Wolf was at one of the bars he usually frequents, bored out of his mind.

You haven’t been answering the texts he sent. Though you warned him about this beforehand since you have to meet with your friend today.

Wolf took a drag from his cigarette. Checking his phone once again. Once again, still no texts from you.

He clicked his tongue. Are your friends really that much more important to you than him?

“Hey. I’m going out for a sec.”

Closing the door behind him, Wolf opened his phone and dialled your number.

Within two rings, a response was heard.

“Wolf! How have you been?”

Wolf frowned, that’s not your voice.

“Can you give the phone to y/n-noona?”

“Yeah.. about that.”

Wolf clicked his tongue, he hadn’t even bothered to tell the rest of the boys about where he was going. Jumping on his motorbike the minute your name was uttered.

“The thing is, y/n is batshit drunk right now. Come be a good boyfriend and pick her up. I’ll text you the location.”

Wolf chewed on his bottom lips, oddly uneasy knowing that you’re probably not yourself. At a club. Without him.

Well, your friends are there. But still, he doesn’t trust that they are all lucid enough to take care of you if anything happens.

Once he reached the location your friend sent him, he wasted no time barging into every room looking for you.

Eventually, he meets your friend walking out of the bathroom. Looking slightly amused at his arrival.

“Oh, Wolf. You actually came.”

“Where are they?”

Your friend gestured to the bathroom.

Man is crazy enough to actually went into the girl’s bathroom, where he sees you groaning by the toilet seat. Your other friend holding your hair for you.

“You can leave. Noona.. it’s Wolf.”

You groaned, feeling like your head is gonna split in two.

Wolf took the hint and shut his mouth. Rubbing your back to soothe the nausea.

“Where the fuck is that kid?!”

Remember that Wolf barged into random people’s room earlier. He also left without an explanation :)

The man banged at the door, making you wince at the loud noise.

“I saw you went in there! Get the fuck out of here before I break the door open!”

Wolf noticed that you were getting uncomfortable when the man began to send a series of kicks to the door. He was about to get up and deal with them himself, before you beat him to it.

Wolf stared in confusion as you open the door with a click. Moving to walk past the raging man to get your bag and just continue puking at home.

“Hey! Where the fuck you think you’re going!”

The guy made the wrong decision to grab your shoulder.

You flipped the man over, elbowing him on the ribs, before kicking the back of his knees down.

“Ugh..”

You gazed at the man sleepily. Looking like you’re contemplating on what to do next, which after a few seconds, you decide to just leave him there and continue your walk.

Wolf stared at your figure. Completely mesmerised until he heard a cackling from beside him.

“Ooh that’s my girl.”

Wolf shifted his glance towards your friend, raising one of his brows.

“I guess she never told you. Y/N was actually the top dog of our school back in middle school. She’s pretty damn good at fighting, you know.”

Wolf smirks. Well he’ll be damned.

ben park / park humin

You and Ben have been dating for like almost three months now.

So far, everything has been going great.

You know about his whole business fighting the Union and stuff. And while you do get worried, you’ve never really said anything.

Ben thought it was a bit odd, but you acted normal aside of that so he just merely shrugged it off.

That day, you were supposed to head to Eunjang to go on a date after school with Ben.

You two reserved a flower arranging class since you thought it was a nice activity for a change from the usual cafe hopping.

Ben was in a great mood the entire day. He couldn’t wait to see you. Especially since you two haven’t been able to see each other due to the packed schedule with the midterm examinations and other school activities.

He ran to the front gates, expecting you to already be there.

You weren’t.

Oh well. He leaned against the side of the school gates, lips pursed into a smile. Rocking himself back and forth on the balls of his feet.

10 minutes became 20. And 20 soon became 30.

Ben frowned. You couldn’t have forgotten about him, could you?

As a matter of fact, no, you haven’t forgotten. You’re just in a really, really sticky situation.

“Never would’ve thought I’ll meet you again out here, y/n.”

“Please. I’m not in the mood for fighting right now.”

The man laughed, pulling you harshly by the collar.

“Ah, y/n. Did you forget about me already?”

“I bet you never told Ben Park about how you went to juvie, did you?”

Feeling anger bubbling inside you, you broke free from his hold. Throwing a hard punch into his jaw.

When he fell to the ground, you got on top of him. Throwing punches after punches after punches.

Even as the man under you get more and more bloodied. Even when your knuckles broke skin. With all the blood rushing to your head, you can’t stop the dizzying sensation you felt that night three years ago.

You were about to throw another punch when you felt a strong grip on your wrist.

“Y/N. Stop that.”

Ben got immensely worried when you didn’t answer any of the calls nor text messages he sent you. So, he decided to check the tracking app to your phone.

He felt his heart shatter when you look up at him with tears running all over your face. Your expression dazed as you look around to see what you have done.

“…why did you do that?”

“-ill me..”

Both you and Ben turned to look at the figure under you who is squirming around weakly. Tears rolling out of his eyes.

“Kill me, y/n. It’s the least you could fucking do. KILL ME YOU COWARD! KILL ME LIKE YOU KILLED MY FUCKING BROTHER!”

You let out a scream. All memories of the past coming back in an instant.

Ben pulled you up, hugging you tight in his arms as you cry your hearts out. Bloody hands dirtying his white uniform.

“I promise it wasn’t on purpose, Ben.. That son of a bitch touched my sister..!”

Ben clenched his jaw, pulling you closer into his arms. This is not how he imagined the day to go at all.

[saturnine-saturneight]

Get to Know Your Moots Writeblr Interview

@davycoquette published the template for this [here] and it looks fun, so here I go!

I'm leaving this as an open tag, also.

On the Tumblr Writing Community

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr?

I made this Tumblr last year with the intention of joining writeblr, then just kind of didn't. I've been using this blog actively for just two months now.

What led you to create it?

I had my story and no earthly idea how to get it out there. I was also missing a community and people to talk to about writing. Two problems that this has rectified :)

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

Hands down how friendly a lot of people are and how much we engage with each other's writing. A close second is to hear people talk about their process and watch their stories grow.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

Meta! Tell me your thoughts! Show me your process! Give me before and afters when you edit!

What tips/advice do you have for someone who made a Writeblr today?

Idk, do what I did? Follow a bunch of people, do open tag games, start commenting on other people's posts and tagging them in things. Engage with others, and when you find something you like, tell that to the person who made it.

WIP it Good

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

It's really only Reburial (FKA Twin Suns) for me. I'm focusing all my energy on that. I have an idea or two for books after that in the same universe... But one thing after the other.

How long have you been working on them?

Depends heavily on how you count. I made the characters maybe 7 years ago, give or take? (Edit: Never mind, Ron was created 9 years ago. Christ.) The drabbles that kickstarted the story are from 2018. Since then I've picked it back up and put it back in a corner multiple times.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

These are roleplay characters that were originally part of a wider social net of characters that I was playing with friends. We all had our own plots going that the characters could then talk to each other about or even get involved in.

The events of Reburial/Twin Suns started when Nat had a very ill advised situationship with a friend's character who infected them with mushrooms. It was very different and almost none of it has stayed.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

At least an hour a day.

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

I usually keep it simple and just say horror. I don't talk about my writing very much to people IRL, and 'horror' has been offputting to basically everyone I've said that to, lmao.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos

Name any characters you created.

I've been rotating Ron in my mind, with Matcha being a close second. Ron doesn't get a lot of airtime in Act 1, simply because Nat sucks all the air out of a room with their thoughts and feelings and pays almost no attention to Ron's. Although he's the deuteragonist, we only really get to know him in Act 2.

Who’s the most unhinged?

Rabbit. Her and the hinges are only vague acquaintances. I like her because she's practical to a fault about deeply strange goals, like a single silver thread connecting her to the most fucked up version of herself that she can be.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

I don't really struggle with any of them. I've spent months to years roleplaying almost every character in the roster. The least natural is Louis, though.

Do you ever cringe at them?

Especially in their self centeredness, Nat can be pretty out of touch. They fancy themself a lot of things that they aren't, and inflate their own ego to a point where it cannot survive contact with reality.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?

I feel very in control, actually! I have moments of They Would Not Fucking Say That sometimes when I'm trying to get from A to B, and things do go off the rails if I'm not careful, but usually, if I bend the circumstances correctly, my characters do what I need them to do.

On Writeblr Engagement

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account?

I'm very careful about following new people and scope blogs out thoroughly. If a blog is mostly original writing, either by the blog owner or by other people, through tag games, excerpts etc, I like the writing style, and the WIPs sound cool, then I'm likely to follow. Bonus points if someone leaves a lot of nice tags or comments.

What makes you decide against following?

In no particular order: when a blog has a lot of writing un-related reblogs aka when it's mixed use and not exclusively a writeblr, when it's mostly memes about Not writing, and when the WIPs don't sound like something I'd like to read.

I really don't care for the majority of fantasy, y'all, sorry :( I follow one or two blogs who write it, and write it really well, but if it's sprawling epic fantasy, good against evil, chosen one, holy war type of stuff, it's just not my jam. I have sat through way too much Game of Thrones against my will.

[hoffmannwrites]

On My List

1  - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 + 1 Masterlist

Author’s Note: OMG this is the last part. I can't believe I actually finished a fic?? who am I??? anywho, this part gets a little hot and heavy, so just a warning there. Nothing super explicit, but like dicks are mentioned. Thank you for reading alone and indulging me!!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Description: 5 Times Steve and Eddie kiss as friends, and one time they don't.

Warnings/Tags: Everyone lives, Nobody dies, 5+1, Kissing, Fluff, Idiots to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, heavy petting, brief sex talk, gay stereotypes, brief mention of Upside Down induced PTSD and panic attacks, uhhh they're gay your honor, no beta we die like Barb, let me know if I missed anything?

I Think We're Alone Now

+ 1

There’s only so many platonic kisses from a super hot jock that a single-braincelled gay man can take. And 5 is the limit. Eddie has been absolutely losing it since he high tailed it out of the last sticky situation he was in with Steve, still trying to wrap his brain around what the fuck was happening. He’s gone back and forth between a bunch of different theories, but usually ends up ping-ponging between “Steve is just a very affectionate friend who is comfortable in his heterosexuality” and “Steve keeps kissing me for a reason”. Eddie refuses to acknowledge the fact that this reason is because Steve actually likes kissing other boys in a very gay, very homosexual way, refuses to even toy with the idea that Steve likes him in that kind of way. But even though he fully believes it is actually impossible, Eddie has been mildly avoiding Steve for the past few weeks. Not totally! But anytime that Eddie isn’t sure if Robin is also working, he waits to return his tapes until he’s sure she is. And anytime Steve calls to invite Eddie over for movie night or to do something with the kids or anything, Eddie makes sure he leaves early enough that he’s not the last one standing. Makes sure he only goes into the kitchen for a snack when someone else is already in there. It’s just safer this way, he thinks. He doesn’t have to deal with the issue if it’s never really an issue, right? Doesn’t have to answer or ask any questions if he and Steve aren’t alone together for them to come up. 

However, Steve isn’t a complete fucking idiot and notices something is up. It takes him a little while, assuming Eddie is just busy with the band or D&D for a couple weeks before he really starts to notice the pattern. But once he does, he’s worried. Worried because he knows what Eddie’s been through in the past year, knows from personal experience how hard it is to live in "the after" of that. He knows that sometimes it can take a long time to really process and show any signs of PTSD, knows it can get even worse around the anniversary of the event (which is right about…now actually). And above all of it, he knows how fucking lonely it is, how hard it is to try to do it by yourself. I mean, hell, Steve didn’t really have anyone to talk to until Robin came around, because it was just too weird with Jonathan and Nancy, and the kids were just kids. And even after he had Robin, he still had to go home sometimes. Usually to an empty house. And even if it wasn’t empty, it’s not like he could tell his parents what was going on, just had to put on a brave face and blame his weird mood on a failed algebra test or a bad day at work. So yeah, he’s no stranger to having to go through all this shit alone and trying to just deal with the impossible- with the way his scars itch and he always feels like there’s something just around the corner and the ringing in his ears sometimes and the migraines and the way his chest starts to tighten when he thinks about any of it too hard. And Steve is determined to make sure Eddie doesn’t have to go through that alone, not like he did. 

So they have a movie night. It’s supposed to be Eddie’s turn to pick, but he’s waiting for the new Evil Dead to get in at Family Video, so they let El pick and she chooses The Goonies (after some helpful suggestions from Robin), which no one is opposed to because it’s fricking The Goonies. And they're at the point where Chunk is telling the Fratellis about everything bad he’s ever done when Steve gets up and goes to the kitchen to make more popcorn. He hates yelling during the movie, but knows it’ll actually be less distracting in the long run. “Eddie can you come here and help me with something?” He knows Eddie is about to complain, ask why someone else can’t do it, he can feel it in his bones like a sixth sense, so he continues. “I need someone tall.” He knows Argyle is actually the tallest out of the group, but he’s been passed out in the recliner since the Truffle Shuffle. He also knows Eddie will never resist an opportunity to remind everyone that he is exactly one inch taller than Steve and yes it matters. 

Eddie hops up from his spot on the floor, too blinded by his own ego to see this is obviously a trap. Steve would never ask him for help to reach something, his pride would prevent him. But Eddie is in the kitchen now, and Steve is pointing to the cabinet above the fridge “there’s more popcorn in there, I just can’t reach it.” 

“Aw, too short down there in under 6-foot land? Don’t worry, I’ll get it for you, seeing that I’m the tallest man in the world,” Eddie says, patting Steve on the head patronizingly. 

“In the world?” Steve just repeats, in disbelief at how Eddie’s ego knows no bounds. 

“Ever, actually,” he casually replies, handing Steve the box of Pop Secret with a smug smile. 

He turns on his heel to return to the living room, but Steve grabs his wrist before he can. 

“Uh, actually I wanted to talk to you for a minute.” Steve says, voice softer and eyes kinder than they were a minute ago. 

Oh no. Oh no oh fuck oh shit. He was about to tell Eddie that he thought this had all gone too far and he knew Eddie had a big fat gay crush on him and that Steve was flattered but just Straight with a capital S. And that was fine! Eddie could live with that, it was honestly probably the best let down he could hope for. But it was so nice living in this delusion where every kiss with Steve didn’t have an overcast cloud of “he rejected you!” over it yet. But Eddie realizes that he’s going to have to have this conversation sooner or later. And he wants to run, oh god does he want to high tail it the fuck outta dodge, but he can’t. No more running, right?

“Ohkayyyy,” Eddie says, feigning oblivion. He decided to stay, not to face it like a man. Baby steps. 

“I just uh.. I just noticed that you’ve been ya know kinda off the past few weeks." (Eddie starts to sweat) "You haven’t been around as much-" (his eyes are looking everywhere except Steve) "-and you pretty much always leave while it’s still light out-" (oh god was it that obvious that he didn’t want to be alone with Steve at night?) "- and you’re just keeping to yourself a little more.” (God he’s so fucking transparent) “I just wanted to let you know that, I get it." (Here is comes) "It’s been a year since everything and it’s never easy on the anniversary and I know it’s fucking scary but you don’t have to do this alone."  (Steve is still holding his wrist) “You know, you have me and Robin and everyone else to talk to or to stay with and we get it. And I know it’s hard to talk about this shit, but you went through literal hell and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. " (Wait he’s confused) "We’re all still processing and dealing with that trauma and PTSD is super complicated, so like we’re here to talk. It helps a lot more than you think, and I just don’t want you to have to deal with all your Upside Down shit alone, okay?" (He’s still confused but putting the pieces together.) 

And Eddie just stairs at Steve for a minute, computing everything Steve just said. Just stares for too long then is appropriate, probably. And Steve looks so concerned, so sincere. And Eddie can’t help but laugh. Fucking fully toothygrincan’tbreathe LAUGH. And now Steve’s a little pissed because, hey man-we all went through shit and people died and we almost died it’s not fucking funny. But before he can chastise Eddie, the taller man is apologizing. “Oh fuck I’m sorry. I’m not—that was really sweet. And I appreciate the fuck outta you. That’s just so not where I thought this conversation was going.” 

Steve’s relieved. “Oh.” 

Eddie’s relieved “Yeah.”

“So where did you think it was going? “

Eddie is no longer relieved. “Oh it’s nothing.” 

“Because something is definitely up with you.”

Fuck. Damn Harrington and his spider sense for always knowing what’s wrong.

Eddie has a couple options. He can keep walking on eggshells, ignoring his friends, and flaking early and pretend like nothing is happening forever. (Or until his crush on Steve goes away. Which it won’t. So forever). He can stop doing that, but still avoid this conversation, and just act like nothing ever happened. (Which notably will be impossible, with the way he can’t ever take his eyes off Steve when they’re together.) Or he can face this. Right here, right now. He can tell Steve what’s going on and they can both get the fuck over it. And hell, the man saved the entire world with a guitar solo, he can face a straight boy not liking him back. 

“I like you” 

“Yeah I’d hope so. You’re in my home and we’ve been hanging out for like a year.” 

“No like… I have, uh, romantic feelings for you. And I know you don’t feel the same and you’re straight and that’s fine, I just couldn’t keep dealing with being around you all the time and you flirting back and kissing me because even though I know it never meant anything to you, it meant something to me and was really confusing so I just had to put some distance there. And I know that you’re probably gonna be pretty upset with me for, like, being gay and letting you joke with me or whatever and that’s fine, I just, uh. Yeah. That’s why I’m being weird. The Upside Down stuff is like, completely secondary to everything else going on in my head right now.” 

Steve just lets Eddie ramble. Lets him get it all out while he listens with his arms folded across his chest and eyebrows raised. Once Eddie finally finishes, finally meets Steve’s eyes, Steve can’t help but quirk his brows into the bitchiest expression he can muster. 

“First of all, you gotta sort out your priorities. The anniversary of our group shadow dimension almost-death should definitely come before worrying about boys. Second of all, who told you that?” 

Eddie’s a little taken aback at Steve’s nonchalance. And confused again. “Told me what?” 

“Like. Half of that shit. That I’d be mad at you for flirting with me? That it was a joke? That I’m straight?”

Now that last one really catches Eddie off-guard. “Well. No one. But like. You are. Right? Straight I mean.” 

Steve’s face is just getting more contorted as this conversation goes on. “Eddie!” He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Who’s my favorite singer?” 

“What?” 

“Answer the question” 

“Springsteen. Or Madonna.” 

"And what’s my favorite movie?"

“You tell everyone its Animal House but its Rocky Horror.” 

It’s like Eddie doesn’t even hear the words that are coming out of his own mouth. And Steve is looking at him wide eyed with an eerily similar expression to the one Robin gave him in that Star Court bathroom stall in the summer of ‘85. “Eddie…” he takes a step closer and Eddie move his eyes to meet Steve’s, brow still furrowed, ass now pressed against the countertop. Steve boxes him in, puts both hands on the counter on either side of Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie, wants to kiss him and shut him up and drown in those stupid big eyes so fucking bad, but apparently that hasn’t worked yet! Apparently kissing 5 times is just too vague for the metal head. So Steve does what he does best, he flirts relentlessly. His mouth is inches away from Eddie’s and Eddie looks almost drunk off it, trying to follow around Steve’s eyes and lips at the same time. “Remember what you called me in the RV when you were hotwiring it last spring break?” Steve is whispering into Eddie’s blushed skin. 

Eddie swallows heavily trying to focus on the meaning behind the words and not just the fact that he can feel them on his skin. “Uh…big boy?” He says, voice almost squeaking, completely void of all previous bravado or sex appeal. 

“Mhm,” Steve nods slightly. “I always knew I was into guys. But you calling me that, while hot wiring a fucking trailer. It wasn’t just Johnny Depp in Nightmare on Elm Street in a crop top or Tim Curry in those fishnets anymore. It wasn’t a hypothetical anymore. It was right in front of me. It was you. A little dirty and in leather and me in your fucking vest and you grinning up at me like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing to me.” The whole time he’s making this confession, he’s whispering it straight into Eddie’s skin. He’s getting impossibly closer and ghosting over ever where Eddie needs him. But they’re crotch to crotch at this point and Eddie can feel Steve getting half hard against him at the thought of the memory and Eddie is quick to follow in his footsteps. Eddie is silent, eyes half closed and just relishing at Steve being all over him. “Eds..” Steve practically licks up Eddie’s neck, getting only a hum that sounds like a question back. He removes his right hand from its place on the counter and brings it to Eddie’s chin, gripping it just enough to shock him into opening his eyes and really looking at Steve. “Kiss me.” 

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands are in Steve’s hair, his shoulders his waist, his ass, just moving trying to feel all of him. Steve is pressing him into the counter so hard now Eddie thinks there might be a bruise across the backs of his thighs, but he doesn’t fucking care because the way the front of their bodies press together is worth everything. Steve’s hands are in Eddie’s hair now, tugging just right and Eddie’s mouth opens enough to let Steve bite his bottom lip and tug. And Eddie almost moans out loud, but catches himself just in time. “Steve.” Now it’s his turn to return a noncommittal hum. “Steve-“ Eddie says more pointedly this time, pulijng him back just slightly by his pockets. Before Steve can protest, before he can let out the whine he's on the verge of, Eddie reminds him of their current situation. “There are kids in the other room. And if you keep going, I’m going to cream my jeans in your kitchen.” Steve loves the idea of Eddie cumming in his pants for him, if he’s being honest, but understands the issue. “Stay the night?” He asks with a few more kisses to Eddie’s neck. “You’ll be lucky if you ever get rid of me again” and Eddie has to practically drag Steve back to the living room, where they’re now sitting almost on top of each other on the floor against the couch. It takes about 10 minutes before the kids realize they never brought back popcorn and Nancy decides to go do it her damn self. 

A/N:

The Goonies came out in June of 1985. It’s a banger. I think that El would really like it because it’s got adventure and friendship and bad guys who get what’s coming to them and has a happy ending. It remind her of her friends and she has a crush on Mikey (also rip Bob) 

Popcorn was like huge in the 80s? Act 11 and Pop Secret both came out in the early 80s as microwave popcorn and so did a bunch of other brands. I didn’t know it came out so late??? Wtf??? I forget microwaves didn’t exist.

I named each of these chapters after a song from the 80s and they've all been period accurate accept for this one, which came out in August of '87 ( this would take place around March/April of '87), but it's fucking TIFFANY so I made an exception. Anywhore, here's a list of the songs in case you wanna check them out.

You Spin Me Round by Dead or Alive

Every Breath You Take by The Police

Happy New Year by Abba

Suddenly, Seymour from Little Shop of Horrors

Drive by The Cars

I Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany

Thank you for reading my little fic, gay people in my phone! Feel free to follow my fandom Twitter @ hauntedvaginas , check me out on Ao3 @ hoffmannwrites or shoot me DM here if you ever wanna be my friend. I love you and I'm kissing you on the forehead.

[wedielike]

If you're still doing prompts, how about this prompt: Vegas returns from a deal somewhere remote and he has a shadow of a moustache that he had no time to shave. Pete finds out he is very much into the look. Thanks for opening your inbox to prompts, off to read the rest of your delicious smut.

“You didn’t tell me Vegas was back.”

Pete nearly chokes on his drink as his head swivels to the doorway where Vegas stands, scanning the lounge and finding Pete sitting with Macau two seconds later. Pete starts to rise, but Vegas reaches him first, a hand on his shoulder to keep him in the chair as he leans over and presses an all-too-brief kiss to his cheek. It’s not enough, considering.

“How was… wherever you were?” Macau asks, and Pete’s not really listening as he gazes up at Vegas.

It’s been a few weeks since Vegas headed off to some far-flung place to make a deal that was apparently very important to the family’s dealings. Even if he had texted Pete every day, called him more than a few times (either for phone sex or just to check in), it’s not the same as having him here, having him home. Pete hadn’t realized how much he’d missed seeing Vegas in person, feeling the comforting weight of his hand on his shoulder.

Pete is distracted from Vegas answering Macau’s question by something that catches his eye. The shadow of facial hair etched on Vegas’ face. It makes him look older, more mature, even more handsome than he already is. Pete has never really considered it before, how Vegas might look. But damn, if he doesn’t look good.

“What’s that?” he hears himself asking, too blunt as he gestures at Vegas’ face and Vegas raises his eyebrows as he glances down.

“What’s what?”

“You haven’t shaved,” he says, and Vegas touches his face at his words, contemplating, his eyes on Pete as his head tilts, curious.

“It’s been a long couple of days. Long flight.”

“You’re going to grow a porn-stache.” Macau snorts at his own joke and Vegas ignores him, eyes still on Pete, like he knows exactly what Pete is thinking.

He can’t, though, because Pete doesn’t even know what he’s thinking. He thinks that he likes it, that the stubble on his face might feel good against his skin, rough, tickling. And now, with Vegas watching him, he’s thinking that he hasn’t seen Vegas in weeks and they shouldn’t be making small talk in the lounge instead of fucking their brains out in any empty room of this compound.

Vegas’ hand is still on Pete’s shoulder, but it slides away as Pete rises, eye-level as he takes in the shadow of the mustache, more than a five-o-clock shadow, and he stops himself from touching it with Macau right there.

“You’re probably hungry,” Pete says, sliding his hand into Vegas’, hoping Vegas clocks the hint he’s trying to give.

“Starving,” Vegas replies, and on the chair, Macau rolls his eyes.

“Just go fuck already.”

So much for subtlety. Vegas opens his mouth to say something, but Pete doesn’t care. Macau will have all the time in the world later to make fun of Vegas’ new look, but right now, it’s Pete’s time to appreciate it, and he plans to.

Pete tugs Vegas out of the lounge, down the dark hallway to the first room he knows will be empty. It’s an old smoking room that has long been given up to storage, with red velvet couches pushed against the wall, tables stacked in the corners, and the door swishes against the thick carpet as it swings shut behind them.

Vegas doesn’t even seem surprised when Pete pulls him into a kiss, hands on his face, and Pete feels him smile.

“You like it?” Vegas asks in between kisses, his hands pulling at Pete’s shirt, bunched up in the fabric as he yanks Pete closer.

“You should stop shaving,” Pete pants, pulling back to gaze at Vegas, fingers drifting over his face, over the short hairs under his nose, dragging down Vegas’ lips as they part.

Vegas takes a steadying breath, tongue flicking against Pete’s fingers, and Pete shivers in reply. “Or maybe I should go away more often.” He pushes Pete closer, a hand tight on his lower back, mouthing along Pete’s jaw.

“No, don’t do that,” Pete says, quick, knowing Vegas smiles, can feel the curve of his lips on his skin.

“Okay, I won’t do that,” Vegas agrees, and Pete just pulls Vegas’ mouth back to his. If he’s good, he’ll at least get Vegas to keep it a couple of days, and he plans on taking advantage of every single minute, starting right now.

[shittykarkatdaily]

REMEMBER THIS SHIT. YEAH. FINAL POST HERE.

THIS WAS A MISTAKE.

ALL OF THIS.

MAKING THAT SERVER WAS THE BIGGEST REGRET OF MY LIFE.

LET ME GIVE YOU A FUCKING RUNDOWN ON SOME OF THE WORST SHIT IN THAT HELLHOLE.

LET'S START FROM THE BEGINNING. THE FIRST FEW MEMBERS WERE FUCKING AROUND AND A TIGHT-KNIT FRIEND GROUP. IT FELT EQUIVALENT TO LIVING IN A GIANT HOUSE WITH A BUNCH OF OTHER PEOPLE.

THE MOD OF THE OLD GRAND HIGHBLOOD DAILY ACCOUNT. THIS IS THE FIRST INSTANCE OF THE SHIT THAT I HAD TO SUSTAIN AND ACT LIKE I WAS FINE OVER, WHEN I WASN'T.

FOR IMPORTANT CONTEXT: THE OWNER OF THIS BLOG IS A SYSTEM. WE NEVER ANNOUNCED IT ON HERE BECAUSE AT FIRST THE HOST AT THE TIME NEVER KNEW, UNTIL AROUND... 9/11, I'D SAY. BUT, AT THIS TIME, AROUND THE END OF JULY/EARLY AUGUST, HE DID NOT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK WAS UP WITH HIM.

I WAS FRONTING AT THIS MOMENT.

I HAD POORLY WORDED A QUESTION. I BACKPEDALED BECAUSE I KNEW I FUCKED UP AND APTLY APOLOGIZED FOR MY WORDING. I FELT SO EMBARRASSED BY MY OWN WORDS THAT I PURGED THE CONVERSATION.

THIS DID NOT STOP THE GHB MOD.

I WAS PROMPTLY CALLED RACIST FOR THIS WORDING, TO WHICH, YEAH, I COULD SEE HOW IT WAS. IT WAS WRONG WORDING AND I GENUINELY DO REGRET HOW I WORDED IT. BUT THE ISSUE WITH IT IS THAT I KNEW FROM AFTER SAYING IT THAT IT WAS WRONGLY WORDED. I HAD APOLOGIZED FOR MY ACTIONS AND TRIED TO MOVE ON.

THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.

I SAID THINGS I WOULD REGRET. WHICH YEAH, I DO FEEL SHITTY FOR MY ACTIONS CIRCA LAST YEAR. IT WAS SHITTY OF ME TO SAY THESE THINGS.

BUT YEAH, THAT WAS THE FIRST INSTANCE.

NOW. LET'S TALK ABOUT WHEN WE REALIZED WE WERE A SYSTEM.

LET'S GET INTO DRAMA. WORSE DRAMA THAN THAT.

THE ERIDAN MOD.

HI ABYSMAL, YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT.

I REFUSE TO POINT FINGERS, AS I AM A LOT MORE MATURE THAN THAT.

I KNOW I WAS ALSO A HUGE PART ON WHY THIS SERVER WENT TO SHIT, ANYWAYS.

BUT THIS IS WHERE WE GET INTO A SMIDGE OF SYSTEM BULLSHIT.

PER/PROSECUTORS.

THEY ARE NOT SHITTY GUYS. THEY ARE GENERALLY JUST [SUMMED UP, I'M NOT RANTING ABOUT THAT, I AM GIVING MY FUCKING STATEMENT HERE AS TO WHY I REGRET THIS BLOG AND THE SERVER, NOT SYSTEM BULLSHIT.] PROTECTORS WHO ARE EITHER SHITTY AT THEIR JOB OR JUST GENERALLY HAVE A BAD WAY UPON TRYING TO PROTECT THEIR SYSTEM.

OUR ONLY PROSECUTOR AT THE TIME HAD FRONTED. HE WAS LIVID BECAUSE WE WERE STRESSED CONSTANTLY OVER THIS SERVER. WE WERE (HONESTLY, IN MY OPINION) THE ONLY PERSON WHO COULD GET SHIT DONE IN THIS SERVER, OUTSIDE OF THE HAL MOD.

SO, THAT WAS WHEN HE FORCED OWNERSHIP TO THE ERIDAN MOD, AND LEFT SHSD FOR THE FIRST TIME. WE HAD PRIOR INSTANCES OF LEAVING THE SERVER DUE TO STRESS, TYPICALLY GIVING TEMP OWNERSHIP TO SOMEONE LIKE THE SOLLUX MOD, ROXY MOD, OR HAL MOD, BECAUSE WE TRUSTED THEM A LOT WITH THE SERVER AND SHIT.

BUT WE GAVE (TEMPORARY, MIND YOU, WE LITERALLY TOLD ABYSMAL TO GIVE IT BACK WHEN WE CAME BACK AND HE DID SAY YES TO THAT AT THE TIME. NOTE THAT FOR LATER.) OWNERSHIP TO ABYSMAL AND DIPPED.

WE CAME BACK.

WE DID NOT GET OWNERSHIP BACK DESPITE HAVING ASKED.

THE SERVER QUICKLY WENT TO HELL AFTER THIS.

SYSTEMS NO LONGER FELT SAFE IN THIS SERVER. NOT EVEN US.

SO, WE CAME UP TO ABYSMAL.

AND AS A REMINDER: THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT A CALLOUT POST FOR ABYSMAL OR ANYONE ELSE IN SHSD.

THIS IS ME DIRECTLY SAYING THAT THIS SERVER WENT TO SHIT. ALL OF IT WAS A MISTAKE I WISH I COULD UNDO.

[I APOLOGIZE FOR THE SHITTY QUALITY WITH THESE SCREENSHOTS, AND WOULD HIGHLY APPRECIATE IT IF SOMEONE COULD WRITE AN IMAGE ID.]

THIS GOES A LOT INTO SYSTEM TALK.

IT'S GENERALLY JUST THIS. A HOST OF A SYSTEM IS GENERALLY SOMEONE WHO JUST FRONTS A LOT. WHILE YES, THEY ARE MOSTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR HEADMATES, SEEING AS THEY'RE THE MAIN ONE WHO FRONTS, THEY CANNOT CONTROL JACK FUCKING SHIT ABOUT THEM.

AND I WANT YOU TO NOTE HERE. WE HAD SAID MULTIPLE TIMES THAT SYSTEMS HAD SAID THEY DID NOT FEEL COMFORTABLE. THERE WERE DISCUSSIONS ABOUT IT IN THE SYSTEM CORNER OF THE SERVER [WHICH WAS LOCKED UNDER A ROLE, AND THIS SERVER WAS VERY OPEN ABOUT RESPECTING SYSTEMS AND ALSO ROLE GIVING. GIVE OR TAKE A MEMBER/TWO, BUT THIS IS MY ACCOUNTING OF THE SHITSHOW OF SHSD, AND NOT SOMEONE ELSE'S.]

HOSTS ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR HEADMATES. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT, DON'T EVEN TRY TO ARGUE WITH ME ON THIS, AS I'M LOGGING OFF THE ACCOUNT THAT OWNS THIS FUCKING BLOG AFTER I POST THIS AND REBLOG IT TO THE MAIN THAT OWNS THIS.

NOW. LET'S STRAY AWAY FROM THE SYS-TALK AND STRAY TO THIS BLOG ALONE.

YOU ALL SUCK AT SUPPORTING ARTISTS FOR THIS SITE. I WILL FUCKING SAY THIS DOWNRIGHT.

YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO REBLOG ART YOU ENJOY. YOU DO NOT GIVE IT A LIKE. A LIKE IS A FUCKING BOOKMARK.

LET ME GIVE AN EXAMPLE.

A POST FROM SHITTYTAVROSDAILY FROM JUNE 30TH.

ONE REPLY, TWO REBLOGS, AND SEVEN LIKES. COOL, WHATEVER! THERE WERE REBLOGS, THAT'S GENUINELY GREAT.

AND A DAY BEFORE, ON MY BLOG.

NO REPLIES, NO REBLOGS, AND ONE LIKE.

YOU'RE KIDDING ME.

I ORIGINALLY MADE THIS BLOG TO HELP A SMIDGE OF ART BURNOUT.

ALL THIS DID WAS TELL ME MY ART WASN'T WORTHY ENOUGH AND THAT IT WAS USELESS.

EVEN A LITERAL YEAR LATER, I STILL HAVE THIS BURNOUT AND ART BLOCK.

WE HATE OUR ART NOW. GENUINELY, WE THINK IT'S FUCKING TRASH.

WE CRINGE WHEN WE LOOK AT THIS BLOG, SURE, BUT WE CRINGE WORSE BECAUSE ALL WE SEE IS THE STUPID ATTEMPTS OF A 14-15 YEAR OLD'S ATTEMPTS TO GET THEIR ART IN THE WORLD. WE KNOW WE WEREN'T THAT GOOD WITH ART, BUT WE STILL, LIKE. I DON'T KNOW, TRIED?

I COULD HONESTLY KEEP GOING ABOUT THIS ALL, WHICH IS THE SADDEST PART.

THERE WERE ABLEISTS AND PROSHIPPERS IN THAT HELLSHITHOLE. IT SUCKED. IT REALLY SUCKED BECAUSE WE/I DIDN'T KNOW UNTIL IT WAS TOO LATE.

YOU ALL FUCKING SUCK.

THE SERVER WAS SHIT.

I'M GOING TO SAY THAT THE ONE FUCKING THING I AM GRATEFUL FOR IS THAT THE HAL MOD AND THE ROXY MODS ARE STILL CHILL WITH US.

OTHERWISE, FUCK EVERYONE ELSE.

I'M DONE.

SHITTYHOMESTUCKDAILY WAS SUPPOSED TO PUT "SHITTY" IN THE ART QUALITY, NOT THE PEOPLE.

THIS BLOG WILL ROT LIKE I HOPE THE REST OF THE PEOPLE WHO OWN A BLOG DO. (HAL MOD + ROXY MOD + SOLLUX MOD EXEMPT.)

[dreamwritesimagines]

It’s CMA-

FUCK MY LIFE I wrote a scathing headcanon about all the ways that Josie is going to burn Anthony and tumblr deleted it😭😭

As a tumblr vet I should’ve known better. 💔💔

Anyway it was basically imagine if clover and Benedict make up before the wedding (doubtful) or are at least civil (eh maybe) and Josie comes in like right before they start the wedding and everyone is like ‘wtf who is this person who just barged in here???’ And clover is like ‘oh no’ and then Josie just immediately rips into benedict like

‘Which one is he?? Who is the heathen who dared hurt my baby sister and force her into this position?’ Then everyone points to benedict (I picture her as a huge swearer just fyi) and she totally unleashes on him like ‘what the fuck you fucking dickwad piece of shit human being I oughta-‘

And then Anthony is like ‘uh no PEOPLE will hear and also what the fuck who is the lady oh no why did we marry ourselves to this family we are SO fucked’ and then Josie turns to him…

‘And you! You misogynistic shithead! I can’t believe you would talk to MY sister that way! How dare you….’

And Anthony is like ‘ME?! What did I do?!!!!?’

And clover is facepalming like ‘Josie……. We literally made up already. We’re in love and Anthony is my new best friend so chill’

And her husband and wife just kind of wave awkwardly to everyone like ‘I would apologize but honestly that’s just her’

And Eloise and Colin are LOVING this. They’re already taking notes and idolizing her/asking her for tips.

And if phones were invented then penelope would just be that person with their jaw dropped filming the entire time, but she’s totally taking notes and thrilled for tonight.

And clover’s uncle is just pouring himself a drink in the corner

LMAO I am so excited to see what will happen

OMG HONEEEY! 😱

I can't stop laughing at this omggg it would be absolute chaos😂

Lolll Josie basically barging in and giving people a piece of her mind, YES PLEASE 😂

Ps: She will NOT trust Benedict at all😏 Like, their first convo will be basically Josie glaring at him and asking him a bunch of questions 😂

And then Anthony is like ‘uh no PEOPLE will hear and also what the fuck who is the lady oh no why did we marry ourselves to this family we are SO fucked’ THE FACT THAT I CAN TOTALLY SEE THIS😂 I feel like Anthony will be asking himself that question a lot in the following days 😂

LMAOOO I love that we decided Josie has a husband AND a wife 😂

Eloise and Colin would loveee Josie! 😂 And so would Pen! 😂❤️

Darling omg thank you so much for thiiiis, it is hilarious 😂😂😂

[burgers-and-french-fries]

My God

74: “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” with Jimmy the loml?

Note: I'm so sorry this is late but I hope this sweet little fic makes up for it.

Enjoy!

P.S: The prompt is highlighted in bold at the end.

===

School plays were always the dumbest things in y/n’s eyes. She never got the point of them. To her they were just cruel ways to embarrass students, to make them feel self conscience. She hated them with a passion but because she was roped into auditioning, she had to bite her tongue. Especially since the biggest jerk in school was cast along side her, making her want to scream.

Y/N and Jimmy Keene had science class together and unfortunately she was assigned as his lab partner so now with the practice for the play and science, she never really got a break from him. Sure he wasn’t bad looking but with a personality like his, his looks did nothing for her.

“I really hate you.” Y/n mumbled as she stood at her friend’s locker as they pulled out their books for their next class.

“Me? What did I do?” They replied.

“You made audition and now I have to preform with him.” Y/n said.

“I know it’s hard to believe but Jimmy’s not that bad. He’s just misunderstood.” Y/F/N countered.

“Whatever. I gotta go.” Y/n said as she looked at her watch.

“Be nice.” Y/F/N shouted after their friend. Y/n simply waved over her shoulder.

=

Walking into the auditorium, y/n was met with a bunch of kids milling about. Some were sitting down going through their lines and others were doing the silliest warm ups, ones that made y/n chuckle. She rolled her eyes and found an empty chair to sit in so that she could go through her own lines.

“Mind if I sit here?” A voice said, pulling y/n from her reading.

“Sure.” She said, finally looking up and locking eyes with Jimmy. She wanted to scoff but she remembered what her friend told her. Jimmy is misunderstood.

“Thanks.” He muttered, removing his letterman jacket and plonking down with a thud.

“So, why’d you audition?” Y/n asked.

Jimmy shrugged.

“Extra credit.” He replied simply.

“Interesting.” She said.

“You?” Jimmy questioned as he looked at the script y/n was holding.

“Lost a bet.” She replied and Jimmy chuckled.

“What?” Y/n asked with amusement.

“Nothing.” Jimmy replied.

“Where’s your script?” Y/n wondered, noting Jimmy wanted to change the subject.

“I uh, I misplaced it.” He stuttered, not wanting to remember what really happened to it.

His mother’s boyfriend had caught site of it and long story short, Jimmy was now labeled as a bit of a pansy.

“I thought that might happen, so, here.” Y/n said as she reached into her bag and pulled out a script out for Jimmy that she had printed out for him in case.

Jimmy looked at her with surprise, but he tried to hide it with the macho tough guy façade. Y/n saw through it though. Maybe her friend was right.

“So, shall we start?” Y/n asked but Jimmy shrugged. She could see him closing down.

Y/n wanted to talk to him more, but the teacher spoke up and declared that practice was about to start.

=

After school, y/n was driving home from school when she saw Jimmy walking by himself. She knew that this was weird for him as he seemed to have a posse with him.

“Hey Keene, want a ride?” Y/n shouted through her open window.

Jimmy stopped and looked at the girl. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to see what situation he lived in but he could see the genuine kindness in her eyes.

“Fine.” He replied as he walked to the passenger side.

He got in and belted in as she started driving.

“So, where am I headed?” Y/n asked.

“I’d rather not go home yet.” He replied after a few minutes.

Y/n nodded.

“Neither do I.” She agreed.

“Why not?” Jimmy asked, curious as to what she meant.

“Same reason you don’t.” She replied, glancing at him from the corner of her.

“You too?” He asked, knowing he didn’t have to say more than that.

“Yeah but thankfully mine is gone on a bender so it’s just me right now.” She somewhat explained.

“How about food and we go the lake for a bit?” He suggested.

“The lake? Isn’t that where you go with all your hookups?” Y/n asked, and  Jimmy’s face fell.

“No, it’s where I go to think.” He told y/n.

“Oh.” She said simply.

“Look I know I have a not-so-great reputation but I’m really not as bad as they all make me seem.” He tried defending himself.

“Jimmy, it’s ok. You don’t have to explain yourself.” Y/n replied as she drove toward her favorite burger joint.

=

Being at the secluded lake was something y/n never thought she’d see. She had heard stories about what happened at the lake and not having any interest in dating or going all the way with someone, she was inwardly shocked that she was sitting on the tailgate f her truck with Jimmy Keene.

“It’s really pretty here.” Y/n gushed as she watched the breeze create ripples on the water.

Jimmy looked at her and smiled.

“Yeah.” He replied.

“So.” Y/n said as she took another fry.

“So.” Jimmy repeated, not knowing what to really say.

“Can I be honest with you?” Y/n asked, looking at Jimmy.

“Sure.” He replied.

“I don’t want to do the stupid play.” She admitted.

“I don’t either.” Jimmy said, huffing out a breath.

“How about this, we sabotage the play.” Y/n smirked.

“How so?” Jimmy asked.

“Well, we could always add our own twists on our characters.” Y/n suggested, piquing Jimmy’s interest.

“Go on.” Jimmy encouraged.

Y/n hopped off the tailgate and went around to where her school bag sat. She dug through until she found her script. Once she grabbed it, she returned to her spot next to Jimmy.

“Ok, like here.” Y/n said, pointing to one of Jimmy’s lines.

“Instead of saying “Who do you think you’re talking to”, you could say “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking too.” Y/n said.

“As much as I like the idea, I need to pass, or I can’t play Football.” Jimmy replied sadly, loving the idea of slipping in some colourful language.

“Damn, ok. How about this, after rehearsals each Wednesday afternoon, we come to the lake, have burgers and I’ll help you with whatever subject you need help in.” She offered.

Jimmy smiled brightly. It would give him something to look forward to and he wouldn’t have to rush home for any reason.

“Deal.” Jimmy said as he held his hand out for her to shake.

“Deal.” She replied.

=

Their little plan went off without a hitch and both Jimmy and y/n were able to graduate with flying colours…..not to mention, as a couple.

===

Tag List:

@geo-winchester

@elizami11s

@stilessbaseballbat

[bitacrytic]

Overheat [38 - 40]

Read Previous Chapter Here

---

“Bring him.”

“Where are you- you said you’d let me go,” Porsche accused, as Tawan turned to him with a smile.

“I’m letting you go.”

---

---

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

-

With the cycle break around the corner, rehearsals were running later than usual. Which was just fine for Porsche. He’d agreed to appear on a bunch of omega panels during the two-week break. He knew he might not have time for personal practice, so he took all the practice he could get. If the director wanted them to stay behind, he stayed behind. There was work to be done and Porsche was happy to do it.

Things with Kinn had gotten to a calm place where nothing was happening. They worked together. They greeted each other in the hallway. They went their different ways. Kinn wasn’t pressuring him for anything and Porsche was glad for the peace of mind.

Glad, wasn’t exactly the word. Content? Satisfied?

Distraught? Maybe a little. Satisfied? Not so much. His feelings for Kinn were the most complicated he’d ever felt and because they’d lingered for more than a decade. There was no way they were disappearing now that there were unforgettable memories involved. Memories that even Kinn was willing to submit to Porsche for.

I’ll be whatever you want.

Porsche sighed and tossed his wet towel on the chair. He wanted a partner. Not a fucking pet. How could Kinn not understand that? Porsche wasn’t going to push Kinn to get help but, at the same time, Porsche wasn’t going to settle for a man who was anything less than Kinn.

Kinn was fiery. Kinn was strong. Kinn was opinionated. Kinn was one of the most alpha-ly alphas Porsche had ever met. As an alpha himself, Porsche had never really been intimidated by those qualities in Kinn. Not like he was with other people. Because up until recently, Kinn had never used those qualities like a weapon against Porsche. Even when they were younger. He would rather have Porsche at his back, than have Porsche in his crosshairs. He never lied to Porsche, never underestimated him, never tried to change him. Kinn was just… Kinn.

And if he was planning to get rid of all that, just so he could fit into a box for Porsche’s sake, then Porsche would rather be alone.

“Hey, are you even listening?”

Porsche turned to his phone that was on the table, where he’d left a call on speaker. He’d forgotten about it, just thinking about Kinn.

“I need to go to bed, Tod,” Porsche said.

“You still haven’t given me an answer.”

Porsche looked down at the phone, recalling what they’d been talking about. What Tod was requesting.

“I’m not going to become a Setely Alpha.”

“For the billionth time, I’m not asking you to.”

“Seems like it,” Porsche said.

Tod sighed. “Look, I don’t want to bite you. Someone brought a proposal before one of my alphas and I thought of you.”

“Right,” Porsche said, disbelievingly. “Because I’m the only omega rights activist you know.”

“It will be perfect for you.”

“I don’t want your money, Tod.”

“Think about it,” Tod said. “You spend all this time asking omegas to believe and advocating for them, but I’m giving you a chance to head off an outreach program that will actually help a lot of them.”

“With a short leash attached to it, I’m sure.”

“Hey,” Tod said, sounding a little hurt.

“What do you want from me?”

Tod went silent. Just like every other time. If there was anything that could shut his smug ass up, it was that question. For some reason, he didn’t want to mention it or say what it was and it was biting at Porsche’s seams not knowing what he was offering. Or if he was going to have to offer something incredibly unattainable in the future.

It wasn’t as if Porsche could shove him off and ignore him. They still had no definite proof of where he stood with Tawan. Or if he even knew Tawan at all. Erring on the side of caution, Porsche opted to keep things normal between them. Best not to do all that planning, only for Tawan to be tipped off because Porsche let his guard down with Tod.

“I would have thought you’d have figured out that by now,” Tod said, voice lacking his usual amusement.

“I’m not a mind reader.”

“I haven’t asked you for anything.”

“Which is even scarier.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Look,” Porsche said, leaning on the table. “I’m about to go to bed. If you can’t be serious about this-”

“Do you want me to draw up a contract for our agreement, just so you feel safe?”

Porsche felt like he was going crazy.

“What fucking agreement? I don’t even know what my side of the contract is.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because if I told you, it would lose its value.”

Porsche’s brain twirled in his head as he tried to figure it out again. What was he offering that he had no idea about? Conversation? Tod could get that in a million other places. What the fuck did that weirdo want?

“Heh,” Tod said, his voice coming back alive again. “I’ve rendered Porsche speechless twice today. I think I’ve hit a record.”

Porsche rolled his eyes. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Think about the outreach program.”

“Good night, Tod.”

He cut the call, just as a text came in from Kinn.

-Can you come to the hotel bar?

Porsche frowned and replied.

-Now?

Another text came in.

-I need to talk to you.

Wondering why Kinn didn’t just come to his room, Porsche started to get dressed when his phone rang. It was Tod again.

“I see you just got a text from Kinn, but-”

“Fucking hell, can you not be creepy for one second?”

“Porsche, that text didn’t-”

“Leave me alone, Tod.”

“Kinn didn’t send-”

Porsche cut the call and tossed his phone away. One of these days, he was going to be pushed far enough that he deleted Tod’s number and flashed his entire phone to get rid of bugs. Because how was he an adult, living under constant surveillance like that? Fucking Tod.

Happy to be reminded that Tod was a creep, Porsche left his phone behind as he went down to the bar. It was ringing as Tod kept calling, but Porsche wasn’t in the mood for him. He had to prepare himself mentally for whatever Kinn was going to say. After so long of nothing happening, something was finally going to happen.

On the way, he noted how much more security was placed on the wing that Ohmovit had paid for, for the cast and crew. After the incident with the brick that went through Porsche’s window, months ago, the production had taken those rooms, too. Pete had confessed to being behind the brick, but Ohmovit didn’t know that.

There were guards in the elevators and guards on every floor. For the safety of the cast, but probably more for the fact that Kinn had raked up and down for better security.

But the bar was a more public place. Ohmovit’s security didn’t cover it. Porsche was going to have be satisfied with the security that the hotel had hired. Besides, he had a feeling that Kinn wanted to meet in a public place. To avoid either of them getting caught up in the moment and forgetting what they’d actually come to discuss.

He was barely two seconds at the bar when a waiter asked him to follow to one of the private rooms. Which kind of defeated the purpose of the visit if it was to meet in a public place.

Or maybe Kinn just wanted a date. Which was such a bad, bad, bad idea. They were in two different places. They wanted two different things. If the date happened and… certain things happened, they would only be taking steps back. No steps forward.

When the waiter stopped at the door, Porsche hesitated, wondering if he should just turn around, go back and have the conversation on the phone just to keep things safe.

“He’s waiting, Sir,” the waiter said.

Hating himself for letting curiosity get the best of him, Porsche entered the room. It was a small, private room with a table for two at the center. There was a minibar stationed on a shelf above their heads, with a trolley and platters for food.

But there was no food, and the table wasn’t even set.

“Kinn?” Porsche asked, as the door gently closed behind him.

When he tried to turn, he felt an arm circle across his shoulder. Hating himself for melting into it, Porsche leaned back against Kinn as the cologne filtered into his nose. The body behind him, the smell… it wasn’t Kinn.

But before he could react, he was stabbed with a needle to the neck.

Porsche pushed his assailant away, knocked over a chair as he shuffled backwards to get away. He felt around his neck where the needle had punctured, noting the bite of the needle.

“Wha-?” he began to ask as his tongue went heavy.

“Shhhh,” the tall, slim man before him said. He was dressed in a blue shirt, black pants and black designer shoes. Expensive. Rich. The kind of person who moved around with… the door to the room opened and two bodyguards entered.

Porsche gasped as his knees gave out beneath him.

“Don’t… don…” he couldn’t feel his tongue. Even his fingers were starting to go numb. “Help…”

“Take it easy,” the man said, coming closer as Porsche's body continued to shut down. The man got to Porsche, just before his head smashed into the floor. Catching Porsche, he gently laid him down on the ground, kneeling before Porsche and staring down at him. “This will all be over really quickly.”

Tawan. The man was Tawan. Kinn and Vegas were busy running around town, trying to court support from other gangs in order to oust him and yet, here he was, waltzing into the Graham Blitz Hotel like he was just any other guest.

“You’re not my enemy,” Tawan said solemnly “Because you see, personally, I have nothing against omegas in the workplace. In fact, I’m an ally.” He raised a stiff fist.

He unbuttoned Porsche’s shirt, pulling the sleeve off his shoulder.

“I don’t want to make your life hard for you. I promise. The drug will wear off in about five minutes and I’ll let you go.” He sat back on his heels and looked at his men. “Where is he?”

One of them left the room.

“Soon, you’ll be able to move again. I mean you no harm. I just need your help with something.”

Porsche blinked as his eyes filled with tears. Because Tawan was speaking so calmly that Porsche couldn’t remember feeling as scared as he was. Unable to move, unable to defend himself, Porsche stared up at Tawan through tear-blurred eyes. Even though Tawan said the drug would wear off soon, he had no idea what Tawan wanted to do in the five minutes it would take the drug to run its course. He couldn’t remember feeling this way, even when people were shooting at him.

The door opened and the guard came in with another man. He was wearing a green hoodie, a pair of jeans and sneakers. He had the hood up, but Porsche could see how pale he was, with bloodshot eyes that drooped nearly to the point of closing.

“Francis, here,” Tawan said, motioning for the man to kneel opposite him, on Porsche’s other side, where his shoulder was laid bare. “I spent months planning how to get rid of his father, only for you to come traipsing in with your pretty face and your omega pheromones,” he said. He looked at Francis, the dead-looking man. “You can go ahead and do it.”

Do what? Porsche thought.

“Just like that?” Francis asked.

“What do you want?” Tawan asked. “A bed full of roses?”

“He doesn’t smell like an omega.”

I’m not an omega.

“He’s on suppressants.”

The man bent close, opening his mouth as he revealed two, sharp, glinting mating teeth. Porsche’s eyes widened as he fought his entire body to move. He needed to get out of there. This man was going to bite him. If Tawan was doing this, then it was safe to say that none of this was in Porsche’s best interest.

Try as he might, his body wouldn’t budge. Rather, it remained in place as the man got closer and closer and closer till he dug his teeth into Porsche’s flesh. The pain that shot through his body was nothing like he’d ever prepared for. At least, when Kinn had bitten Porsche, he’d prepared his mind for it, he’d braced for it and even though it had hurt like a mother fucker, it was Kinn. Somehow, Porsche’s mind had accepted that. The painkillers and hormone balancers that they’d pumped him with at the hospital had helped keep him from fainting. But the pain, the memory of the pain, had remained.

This time, Porsche wanted to yell and scream because it just kept getting worse and worse. By the time he pulled away, Porsche’s eyes were swimming and he had a migraine. He could feel his arms and some fingers, so he slowly raised them to his head, as he turned on his side. Groaning, he felt the blood from his shoulder slipping down into his shirt.

“Porsche,” Tawan said, trying to turn Porsche back, but Porsche pulled away. He crawled backwards, moving towards the wall. Anything to put some space between.

“Tell him to stay.”

“Stay where you are,” Francis said.

Immediately, Porsche froze in place.

Not because he was influenced by a mating compulsion. But because he suddenly realized what was going on. Tawan, for some reason, believed that Porsche was an omega. So he’d gotten a rutting alpha to bite him so that he could control Porsche. Which meant that if Porsche didn’t comply, they were going to realize that he was a beta. Or worse still, an alpha. In which case, they could keep him till they found an omega to bite him.

“Tell him not to tell anyone about this,” Tawan said.

“You cannot tell anyone about this,” Francis repeated to Porsche.

“When people ask, he should say he didn’t see the face of the person who bit him.”

“When…” Francis cleared his throat. “When people ask, say you never saw my face.”

“You can never speak of or communicate in any way, anything that happened here today.”

“Did you hear what he said?” he asked Porsche.

Porsche nodded.

“Do that.”

Porsche nodded again.

“Ha,” Tawan said, standing up with a satisfied smile. “That went smoother than I anticipated.”

“Can I go now?” Francis asked.

Tawan waved him away. On his way out, the bodyguards handed him a duffle bag and Porsche didn’t have to think too hard to know what was in that bag.

“Okay then, let’s go,” Tawan said, getting to his feet.

“Wha-” Porsche began to say as one of the guards pulled his shirt completely off his body. “What are you doing?”

“Bring him.”

“Where are you- you said you’d let me go.”

“I’m letting you go.”

The men, who’d just worn masks over their own faces, gagged Porsche with his shirt and cuffed his hands behind his back as they dragged him into the corridor. Instead of going out the front, they took him through the back, out the service exit, pulling him along as his feet dragged behind them. He was taken to the front of the hotel building where a bunch of reporters were waiting. Once they got there, they untied the gag from Porsche’s mouth, uncuffed his hands and pushed him into view of the reporters.

“Look,” one of Tawan’s guards shouted. “It’s Porsche Kittisawasd.”

And to Porsche’s horror, as he lay there on the ground, shirtless, he heard the reporters murmur about him as they rushed in his direction. Rolling onto his stomach, he tried to cover up. He tried to hide. But it was futile. His hands weren’t fast enough. His senses reeled from being pushed, not to mention the flashes from cameras.

In all that flurry of activity, Porsche cried, realizing that he wasn’t able to hide the obvious mating bite on his shoulder.

A bite that a “beta” like him was not supposed to have.

---

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

-

Kinn was across town when he got the news. One moment, his phone was quiet, the next, it was blowing up with alerts about Porsche on social media. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Porsche, shirtless, on the street, with a mating bite on his shoulder. There were multiple videos from multiple angles. Some of them were up close, camera lights flashing in Porsche’s eyes as he stumbled to try to get away, looking disoriented and scared.

It didn’t take long before Ohmovit guards were storming the area, pulling Porsche from their grasp and whisking him back into the building. Porsche was safe, but the damage was already done.

When he got to the hotel, most of the cast and crew were in the hallway, whispering to each other as security tried to cordon off Porsche’s floor. As Kinn moved, they gave way for him, but it was obvious that others weren’t afforded the same courtesy. Beyond the elevator, Ohmovit guards were gone and in their place was a team of men that looked suspiciously like private security. The kind that carried concealed weapons.

The men lined the walls leading up to Porsche’s room, watching Kinn warily, the closer he got. Across from Kinn, on the other side of the hallway, Tay, Tankhun, the director of “Overheat” and the CEO of Ohmovit were in a hushed conversation, so heated that they didn’t even see Kinn pass.

As soon as he barged into Porsche’s room, he was met with an almost regular tiny group of people. Porsche was in bed with a duvet wrapped around his shoulders. Tod was seated at the desk while Pete was in the opposite corner, curled up in a ball, scrolling through his phone. Vegas was also on the phone, looking just as agitated as everyone else.

“Porsche,” Kinn said as soon as he entered, climbing into bed with him. Kinn was grateful that Porsche didn’t pull away or resist him because he just needed to hold him. To know that Porsche was okay. He needed to be sure that Porsche was present before he could think of anything else. “Oh god,” Kinn whispered, kissing the top of Porsche’s head as he squeezed him tight. “What happened?”

“Someone used a clone of your phone to lure him to the downstairs bar,” Tod said. “By the time I could get in contact with security, he was already outside the building.”

“It was an alpha’s bite. I’m fine,” Porsche said. His nose was red and covered in blisters that he normally got from tissues. “I swear. They’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

There couldn’t be a bigger deal than this for someone like Porsche.

“What are our options?” Kinn asked, when Vegas finished his phone call.

But Vegas didn’t reply. Instead, he just sat on Pete’s bed, his shoulders tense and rigid, as he clenched his phone.

“The Cycle Civics Board is going to request a public presentation,” Tod said.

“Fuck,” Kinn said. He'd known this was where it was going the moment he saw that bite on social media.

“People are going to want confirmation that he’s not an omega," Tod explained.

“Anyone could have been bitten,” Pete said. “Lots of people bite betas during sex. At worst, Porsche has a case for sexual assault.”

“But it’s Porsche,” Tod replied. “He has a history-”

“A history of what?” Vegas asked, voice quiet with controlled rage. When he looked up at Tod, his eyes were red rimmed like he was seconds away from crying. Or screaming. Or shooting someone. “Hmm?”

Tod looked back at Vegas. “I’m not the enemy here.”

“I asked Ohmovit to increase security,” Vegas said.

“And they did.”

“Not everywhere.”

“This is someone else’ hotel,” Tod explained. “Ohmovit couldn’t just station armed guards anywhere they like.”

“Sure they could,” Vegas said with a shrug.

“How?”

“Threaten physical violence?” Vegas suggested. “Blackmail? Anything to get the hotel to fucking listen.”

“Vegas,” Kinn said, trying to calm him before things escalated.

“If you can’t protect the artists, then Porsche is better off walking away from “Overheat”.”

“Vegas!” This time, it was Porsche who spoke.

“What does it matter?” Tod asked. “He’s an alpha.”

“I’ll do the public presentation,” Porsche offered.

“That’s not the fucking point,” Vegas screamed. “Last time, someone tossed a brick through his window. Regardless of the fact that I know who did it, this is the second time he’s been attacked. A public presentation isn’t going to protect him if Ohmovit can’t get their shit together.”

“What’s the solution then?”

“Let me bring in more guards to-”

“Absolutely not,” Tod said, shaking his head. “I can’t afford to have thugs running around the same hotel where one of my alphas is doing business.”

Vegas smiled and bit his lips. Then he raised the bottom of his pants, slipped out his gun and pointed it at Tod. Porsche and Kinn sat up as Pete stood in the corner.

“Vegas,” Kinn said. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”

“I wonder how good it would feel for your people if I shot you… if I took you somewhere and just left you there. Out of their reach.”

Vegas got up, bringing the gun closer to Tod who remained in his seat, staring up at Vegas with a blank look on his face.

“Put the gun down,” Porsche said.

“People could get hurt and you’re talking about your company’s fucking image?”

The door to the room opened as Tod’s guards came flooding in with their guns pointed at Vegas.

“Hey,” Kinn said, letting go of Porsche as he jumped between Vegas’ back and the armed guards. “Let’s all keep our heads cool.”

“Drop the gun,” one of the guards said. “Drop it or we’ll shoot.”

“Vegas, we can talk without guns,” Kinn informed his cousin.

“Tod,” Porsche said. “Tell your men to stand down.”

“I think you’d want to tell Vegas to drop his gun first,” Tod said.

“Tell them to stand down,” Porsche repeated. “Now!”

Tod looked at Porsche, as uncertainty creeped into his face. He must have seen something there because he waved at his men.

“Wait outside,” Tod said.

“Sir?” the closest guard said.

“Go!” he commanded, as the guards reluctantly walked out of the room, leaving their boss with Vegas still pointing a gun at his face.

Without waiting for things to escalate, Kinn turned around and placed his hand on Vegas’ hand, slowly pressing the gun down. As he did, he couldn’t help looking between Tod and Porsche, wondering how Porsche had just asked… no, commanded Tod to send his men out.

And Tod had obeyed.

“Now, can we have a civil conversation without you being an idiot,” Porsche said, throwing one of his pillows at Vegas’ head.

“What the fuck?” Vegas asked, eyes flashing in anger.

“Cut it out,” Porsche said, not backing down.

“Vegas,” Pete said softly, taking him by the hand as Vegas looked down sharply and then slowly deflated as soon as he saw who was talking to him. “Being angry won’t solve anything.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he ended up letting Pete pull him back to sit down.

“For someone so obsessed with Porsche,” Vegas said. “You don’t seem all that invested in his safety.”

“He’ll be safe if he stays within Ohmovit cordoned areas,” Tod replied.

“How convenient for you that Tawan just happened to utilize that information.”

Tawan did this, Kinn thought, feeling bile rise in his throat at the mere thought of that despicable man. He could already see his twisted thought process. He’d gotten the idea of Porsche being an omega from that one phone call that happened during their meeting. And the first thing he’d done was get an alpha to bite Porsche? Just so that Porsche wouldn’t want Kinn anymore? Just so that Kinn would be so distraught that he came running into Tawan’s arms?

Fat chance now.

“Who the fuck is Tawan?” Tod asked.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not working with the lunatic who attacked Porsche.”

Tod frowned, looking from Vegas to Porsche.

“The person who attacked Porsche thought he was an omega,” he said. “I’ve known Porsche was an alpha since he got on this production. Don’t you think that’s useful information I would have shared with someone I was working with?”

Kinn had to admit, that was a solid point.

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re everywhere all of a sudden,” Vegas continued. “What do you want from him? Are you going after my family? Is that why you want him because you couldn’t get me?”

Tod scoffed. “You don’t qualify for what I want in an alpha.”

“But you wanted my brother.”

“Your brother has clean hands. He doesn’t have a record. He’s never killed or abducted anybody. If I wanted your brother it would be because I was taking him out of your family. Not because I was trying to join it in any way.”

When Vegas bounced off the bed like he was about to punch Tod, Kinn got between them.

“Easy,” Kinn said. Because even though Tod didn’t seem to understand the danger he was in, by poking at Vegas, Vegas could cause him serious harm if he got his hands on Tod. Considering that Kinn had only one handgun and Vegas had, at most two, they would be no match for the battalion of armed men right outside the door. “He’s not saying anything we haven’t heard before. Calm down.”

“We still don’t know what he wants,” Vegas said. “We can’t trust him.”

Kinn sighed and faced Tod. “We need more security.”

“Anymore and this place would be a barracks.”

“At least allow us to give them personal guards,” Kinn said.

Tod looked at Porsche again. “I can send one of my men.”

“Nope,” Vegas shook his head. “A Theerapanyakul guard or nothing.”

“Tod,” Porsche said. “He’s not asking for much.”

“Fine. You can give them a guard each,” Tod said. “But back to the original issue. With Porsche’s history, everyone quickly assumes he’s an omega the moment anything cycle related happens.”

“Maybe we can get in front of this?” Pete said. “Find a way where he doesn’t have to do the presentation?”

Tod shook his head. “If Ohmovit wants a smooth production, we’ll have to comply.”

“And if we fight it, it will only make it seem more like I’m an omega.”

“Exactly,” Tod agreed. “If this was someone else, it could have been ignored. But Porsche? His entire career is littered with omega rumors. It’s been that way for years. It was only a matter of time before something triggered a public presentation.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m an alpha.”

“Good for you. Good for Ohmovit. Good for “Overheat.” Hurray.” Tod picked up his coat from the back of the chair as he began to put it on.

Kinn wasn’t comfortable with any of it, but the sooner they put this behind them, the sooner they could move on with the show.

“Just let us know whenever they schedule the presentation,” Kinn said.

“Will do,” Tod nodded. “I’m glad you’re safe, Porsche.”

As he walked out, Kinn followed him, hoping to be courteous since Vegas was so determined to burn that bridge. But Kinn didn’t think he could be so abrasive towards Tod anymore. Especially since he had nothing to do with Tawan. Especially since he’d helped them, not once, but twice now. The way Kinn saw it, his family might not be the kind that Tod got in business with, but thinking as a leader who was about to break away from his father, Kinn understood that it was time for him to start forming his own bonds. Making his own alliances.

People didn’t do that by pointing guns at powerful men.

“I didn't get a chance to say this,” Kinn said, once Tod was out the door. “But thank you for coming to get me.”

“It was nothing,” Tod said. “I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

With a slight salute, he headed down the hallway as his guards followed him.

When Kinn returned to the room, Pete said, “I don’t want to alarm you, but Tawan thinks Porsche is silent about it and so he’s going to expect Porsche to avoid Kinn because of the bite.”

“The plan was to play along,” Kinn said. “If that’s what he expects, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Porsche frowned.

“Once the public presentation happens, he’ll know that Porsche is an alpha.”

Shit, Kinn thought as he closed his eyes. They were never going to catch a fucking break.

“What?” Porsche asked. “What is it?”

“If he knows you’re an alpha, then he’ll know the bite didn’t work and that you told Kinn everything,” Pete said as Vegas and Porsche wore identical looks of worried shock. “The moment he knows Porsche could have exposed him, he’s going to have nothing to lose,” Pete said, voice shaking with emotion. “He’s going to release my tape and expose me to the whole world.”

And fuck! Fuck! FUCK!

When Kinn got his hands on Tawan, he was going to twist his neck till the entire thing popped right off his body.

---

CHAPTER FORTY

-

Hiding in the bathroom, with the lights off, except for the glare on his phone, Pete read threads and threads of comments on social media. He’d known what he’d find. He’d known what the internet would say about Porsche. And yet, he couldn’t resist.

-he’s always been a weak actor

-god knows how many directors he fucked just to get jobs

-think of the distraction

-they belong at home

-they should know their place

-they should fire him, they should sue, he’s putting the entire Overheat production in jeopardy

-what kind of company didn’t do their due diligence before hiring?

-fucking omegas

A nightmare to imagine that one day, it would be Pete’s name in Porsche’s place, as people pulled up his history, tearing it apart simply because they’d learned he had a different Greek alphabet on his national ID than they’d originally thought. The awards wouldn’t matter. His work ethic wouldn’t matter. The public image he’d carefully curated for the last eight years would mean exactly nothing.

And he wouldn’t have the insurance of being able to prove the public wrong when they eventually found out that he was an alpha. Because he wasn’t.

Crying quietly, Pete continued to read, latching on to the few posts that were in support of Porsche… as an omega. Because there was overwhelming support. Porsche was a star with a rabid fanbase. They were just as noisy as the haters, if not more so.

But they had chosen to mount their support on the premise that their favorite actor was not an omega. He was a beta. That was their defense. That the haters would regret it when the public presentation revealed Porsche to be a beta. That the haters were foolish for believing unfounded theories online. That when the truth was exposed, a lot of people’s credibility would be called into question simply because they dared to imagine that Porsche Kittisawasd could ever be an omega.

Even his fans spoke like being an omega was a great sin.

Which exposed the reality that his fans would have abandoned him if Porsche turned out to be an omega. Haters and fans, uniting under their disbelief of and hate for an omega being a super star.

The few people who were in support of the idea of Porsche being an omega were attacked by both parties. They were attacked by haters for supporting an omega in the workplace. They were attacked by fans for daring to claim that Porsche had deceived them for so long.

And with every comment, a little piece of Pete died.

“Pete?”

He looked up, to find the bathroom door open, with Kinn’s silhouette standing there. He’d been so engrossed in his phone that he hadn’t heard Kinn knock. When Kinn switched on the light, Pete was so dumbstruck that he didn’t have time to compose himself or wipe his face or anything. The moment Kinn saw him, he switched the lights back off.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Pete said, sniffing and locking his phone.

“Can I come and sit with you?” Kinn asked, entering and shutting the door gently.

Pete shrugged, wondering if Kinn could see the shrug. Honestly, he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He’d barely cared for anything else in his life. His acting was everything. He’d worked hard to get to where he was. Now, it was all just going to wash away because some entitled prick felt he was owed Kinn’s affection and the territories that came with it. What was Pete but collateral damage in the grand scheme of things?

Kinn sat on the bathtub.

“What did Phi-Tankhun say?” Pete asked.

“Nothing,” Kinn replied.

Pete chuckled as his eyes watered. Even Tankhun knew it was hopeless to try and salvage the situation. When he’d come in and demanded the full truth, Pete had left the room. He was tired of hearing about it. He was tired of talking about it. He was tired of getting to the point where people realized that he was fucked, either way. Because Vegas and Kinn were going to get Tawan. That was a given.

The uncertainty was whether Pete would still be an actor when that happened. And if someone like Tankhun who always had something to say, had said nothing, then Pete knew there was nothing they’d be able to do.

“We’ll find Tawan.”

“No one even cares that Porsche might be an omega,” Pete said, unlocking his phone again. “That’s not a good outcome for any of them. Something that we can’t even control gets to control our lives for ever because the world is a fucked up place.”

“You’ll get through this.”

“Be serious,” Pete said, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. “As soon as I’m outed, nobody will hire me.”

“I’ll hire you.”

“You’re a talent agency, not a production company.”

“Who says I can’t be both?” Kinn asked. “Who says I can’t change my focus? I have thirteen fucking artists. You think I can’t put up my own productions and source for funds?”

“This isn’t funny, Phi-Kinn.”

“Do I sound like I’m joking?” Kinn asked, getting up and switching on the lights. “Look at me. Do you think this is a joke to me?”

He didn’t look like he was joking. He looked like he’d first looked when he’d tried to recruit Pete from a prison stage performance, nine years ago. Pete had thought he was joking, but when he was released, his belongings included a business card that hadn’t been there when he’d been incarcerated.

“People won’t fund omega-lead projects.”

“Says who?”

“Your other artists will leave.”

“Good riddance.”

“Phi-Kinn!” Pete said, frustrated.

“You’re not giving up. If “Overheat” wants to fire you, that’s their loss. But you’re not leaving my company and you're not stopping your acting.”

“What about the free labor laws?”

“They’re there for the benefit of the company. Guess what? I’m the company, Pete.”

Pete shook his head and buried it between his knees. Kinn was a determined man. Pete knew this. But his determination was nothing in comparison to what the world was ready to see. It wasn’t going to be sunshine and rainbows. People who’d previously hired Pete without blinking an eye were going to scrutinize his projects, question his accolades and wonder if he’d fucked his way to the top.

All that was going to be multiplied by the fact that he was fronted by his primary company. Not by the objective choices of actual production houses. And by the time other artists who didn’t want too much scandal vacated the company, the only people who would remain were people with failing careers and other omegas who’d sought out the company desperately, seeking shelter because the company was protecting Pete.

In a matter of time, they were going to sink to the bottom of the ocean and become nothing but a statistic in Thai history.

No. If that video ever came out, Pete was going to resign. Because fuck it if he ruined other people’s lives. He knew he’d be pissed if he was an innocent beta who had to be dragged down because an outed omega was in the same company. Why put others through that?

“Hey,” Kinn said, squatting in front of him. “I know what you’re thinking-”

“I might not even get to finish “Overheat”,” he said, voice shaking.

“Fuck them if they don’t keep you till the end.”

“I was really looking forward to it.”

“Stop thinking like this. We’re going to find Tawan. We’re going to handle it. This will all be fine.”

Pete didn’t bother arguing with him. It was pointless. He was done for. No need to talk about it because he was just. So. Tired.

And nothing Kinn said was going to change any of that.

***

Rehearsal, the next day, was as grating as nails on a board.

Tem and Time spent all the time they weren’t the ones acting, sitting with Pete and Porsche. They didn’t ask. They didn't talk about it. They didn’t seem to want to know. Some of the cast were courteous enough to force some interaction with Porsche, as if to make some statement that they weren’t bigoted, but Pete could see through it.

Just in case Porsche turned out to be a beta, they didn't want any bad blood with him or Vegas.

But there were those from the cast and crew who steered clear, like Porsche was going to burst into a heat at any moment. From the controlled expressions to the wide berth, Pete could tell that if Porsche were any other actor, if Porsche wasn’t from an agency where the CEO had questionable means, he would have received more obvious reactions.

The only person who remained the same was the director. Probably because he knew Porsche was an alpha. It was in Porsche’s contract. He wasn’t going to learn anything new about Porsche that he hadn’t known since the first day.

Pete envied Porsche almost to the point of resentment.

With the public presentation scheduled to be the following Friday, Porsche only had about eight days of this weirdness before it was all shoved to the back of people’s minds. Before it was replaced by vigorous attraction the moment they learned of his alpha status. Eight days. And then nothing but more love.

During lunch one day, when Porsche sat beside Pete, Pete had to resist the urge to shift away. He hadn’t meant to be, but he knew he was keeping his distance and Porsche could feel it.

“Can I have your eggs?” Porsche asked, a worried, plastered smile on his face.

Pete picked the two eggs out of his place and put them in Porsche’s.

“Thanks,” Porsche said, pushing his vegetables into Pete’s plate. “Are we…” he began. “Are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” Pete said.

“Because lately things have felt weird.”

“I don’t blame you,” Pete said, dropping his spoon and looking at Porsche. “None of this is your fault. I mean, you wear your heart on your sleeve which tells me that you grew up in an unrestricted home. You have parents who worship the ground you walk on. You went to acting school, got fighting lessons. You make friends easily. The first time you made eyes at the guy you liked, he fell in love with you. And now,” Pete said, taking a breath. “Now, you’re an alpha.”

Porsche opened his mouth and closed it, looking like he was unsure what to say.

“I don’t blame you for any of that. In my head, I know none of this is your fault. You’ve had a good life. You’ll probably always have a good life. The world isn’t fair.” Pete could feel his eyes brimming so he blinked the tears away. “I know that. And I’m so, so sorry for hating you for it.”

“Pete, I-”

“None of this is your fault, Porsche,” Pete said, shaking his head. “But I just need… I need a moment to process what I’m going through. Okay?”

Porsche frowned, pressing his lips together like he had so much to say. But he ended up just saying, “Okay. Take your time.”

And for the rest of lunch that day, they just sat in silence, each man with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

***

Pete counted down the days to Porsche's public presentation like it was a ticking time bomb. Which it totally was. He tried his best to focus on his work, but there were moments when he knew it was all pointless. Eventually, it was all going to come out and then Ohmovit would have to choose whether Pete was worth the trouble or if they’d rather move on to someone else. After all, there was a perfectly good understudy just waiting to take over, considering that the show was to run for four weekends of two days each.

They’d planned for this. They’d planned for everyone’s replacement. Kicking Pete out at the last second was not the dent in Ohmovit’s plans that it would have been if Pete was the only one practicing to be Niran.

He’d come in from dinner to find Porsche already in bed. Things hadn’t improved between them in the two days since he’d asked Porsche for some space. To his credit, Porsche was trying. He wasn’t getting in Pete’s way and he wasn’t exactly avoiding him either. But he wasn’t hovering, so Pete was grateful for that.

He could hate Porsche in peace.

As he got into the bathroom, someone knocked at the room door. Wrapping a coat around his body, he opened the door to Kinn and Vegas.

“What’s going on?” he asked as they entered the room.

“Where’s Phi-Tankhun?” Kinn asked, going to sit on Porsche’s bed as Porsche turned around, suddenly awake like he’d only been pretending to be asleep in the first place.

“He’s not here,” Porsche said. “What happened?”

“He asked us to meet him,” Vegas said, smiling and wagging his eyebrows at Pete. “If he’s not here yet…” he said, smiling slyly as he tugged on the strings of Pete’s bathrobe.

“For fucksake, Vegas,” Kinn said.

Pete took the string out of Vegas’ hand just as Tankhun entered the room through the open door.

“Is everyone here?” he asked, followed closely by the director of “Overheat.”

“No offense, Director,” Kinn said. “But what are you doing here?”

“Been asking myself that exact same question?” the director said, scratching his head.

“You know,” Tankhun said. “For a room full of people in the entertainment business, you guys are the least dramatic people I know.”

“What’s going on?” Porsche asked, kneeling up on the bed.

“I come bearing solutions.” Tankhun waved his hand at the director. “Viola.”

“Solution for what?”

“For your Tawan problem, of course.”

Pete was not sure he understood what Tankhun was saying, so he moved closer to the room as Vegas shut the door behind them. Taking a seat at the foot of his bed, Pete looked up at Tankhun, praying that he wasn’t dreaming, trying to recognise and accept the hope that he thought Tankhun was offering.

“I have a plan.”

“What is it?” Pete asked.

“I’ll share it with you, but first,” Tankhun said, walking up between the beds, where Kinn and Vegas were seated, and grabbed each man by the ear.

In unison, Kinn and Vegas stood, twisting their bodies to follow the direction in which Tankhun was twisting their ears as both screamed out in pain.

“Ow ow ow ow ow, Phi! ” Kinn said.

“What the fuck, Phi?” Vegas said, holding Tankhun’s hand.

“The next time someone threatens this family,” Tankhun said in a whisper. “And I have to hear about it because Porsche has been violated and tossed in the street, I will pluck both your ears from your heads. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Kinn said. “Let go!”

“Do you hear me?” he repeated in Vegas’ direction.

“I’ve heard, now stop.”

With one last twist, he shoved both of them back on the beds and turned away from them, moving back to the director. As Kinn nursed his reddened ear, Porsche moved closer, blowing on it with a worried look on his face.

“Sorry,” he said, a slightly amused look on his face.

“So,” Tankhun said. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

And just like that, Pete sat, listening to Tankhun’s every word, hanging on because he had nothing else to hang on to. No other source of hope. He had nothing else to lose. The public presentation was four days away.

If Tankhun’s plan didn’t work, Pete was screwed either way.

[oddree13]

Restless Year - Chapter 4

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

(Prior Chapter) (Next Chapter)

(Read on AO3)

“Alright, circle up everyone. Store announcement,” Eddie proclaims as he walks out of his office.

He paces in front of his co-workers, biting his cuticles as he thinks about what to say. Lucky for Eddie most of them are used to his monologuing by now. “I know you all gossip like a bunch of hens but I don’t want this to become a game of telephone. This,” he points to the silver band on his finger, “is basically a wedding ring. Seems a few of you had the wrong impression so I’m correcting it.” Most of his staff just nod, but he can tell Jamie looks particularly uncomfortable. 

“If you’ve answered a call from Steve before, congrats, you’ve talked to my fiance. Yes he’s a dude, and yes he’s an omega, and yes he dresses like Danny Tanner. If that’s an issue, take it up with whatever deity you chat with. Any questions?”

Everyone pauses for a few beats before Carmen, his first personal hire, raises their hand. “First congratulations,” they start looking a little nervous to be speaking up. “Second, can you ask Steve for his snickerdoodle recipe? I think I ate like four the last time you brought in a tin.”

Eddie can’t stop himself and bursts out laughing. He feels the tension in the room break and someone else asks for a copy too. “That’s the question you have? I will absolutely ask Stevie to give you his recipe. The man will probably invite you over for a fucking demonstration if you want.” 

Feeling like a small weight has been lifted, Eddie goes back to his office to do orders until the afternoon staff comes in. He’ll make the same announcement and head home early to catch Steve after his classes.

*

Walking into the apartment Eddie is pleased to still find it empty. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Steve, it’s that he’d like some time to compose himself and maybe tidy up a bit before ordering takeout. The last thing Steve needs is to come home to his cooking attempt. 

Unfortunately, every time Eddie goes to clean something - a bowl he remembers leaving in the sink, the shirt he left on the bathroom floor the night before, a guitar pick pile he knows he knocked over - he finds it’s already been cleaned. Eddie is an absent-minded disaster when he’s in his own space and despite the clutter, the flat is practically immaculate. Steve really does so much to keep them going, and Eddie is starting to wonder if his obliviousness has caused other cracks in their relationship. 

Eddie glances at his watch to look at the time and spies the date in the corner. Shit. It’s Wednesday. A Dungeons and Dragons Wednesday. He hops off the sofa and calls Dustin, figuring that can tell the younger that DnD is off for the night and he can relay the message. 

“You’re canceling?” Dustin screeches loud enough that Eddie has to pull the receiver away. “Why are you canceling? You never cancel. Like never Eddie.” 

“The reason why isn’t important Henderson, I just need you to call the rest of the players and let them know I’m rescheduling. We’ll resume after the Halloween party,” Eddie placates, needing this conversation to be over sooner rather than later.

“I think the reason is important. In the past, you’ve made speeches about people needing to miss out and reschedule. Like full-blown soliloquies!”

“A soliloquy isn’t the term you’re looking for. I know I took high school English three times. But that’s not the point Henderson. Somethings in life are more important than Dungeons and Dragons,” he admits with a sigh, and wonders absently if this is what growing up feels like. There’s silence at the other end as if Dustin is recognizing his friend changing before his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll call them. What do you want me to tell people?”

“Fucking tell them I have leprosy for all I care. Just call them and do not come over. I repeat you nor your better half are to come over tonight,” Eddie underscores and hangs up the call before Dustin can continue his interrogation. He’s still holding the receiver against the base in an effort to collect himself before realizing all he has left to do is order Chinese food and wait.

Two hours later the door clicks open and Eddie can tell Steve looks surprised to see him home so early. 

“Hey Eddie, you’re home? I haven’t had a chance to grab a pizza so I was going to go do that now.”

“No need, I canceled tonight’s session and I ordered takeout.” The reaction he gets is about what he expected. Steve looks over him with concern before checking his forehead and examining him for injuries. “I’m fine, I’m fine Steve. I just needed a night home with my fiancé.” Eddie can tell that Steve realizes something is up because he starts to step back and put on the veneer Steve would trot out to appease his parents. It stings.

“That’s really sweet Eddie, but you love DnD. I’m sure there’s enough time to call everyone up to head to the shop,” he tries, but Eddie shakes his head, pulling Steve into his arms. 

“I need a night home with you, and I hope you still want a night home with me...you’ve been acting off Stevie and I was hoping we could talk?” As he waited for Steve to get home Eddie had raced through all the possibilities of ‘we need to talk’ and came to the conclusion that not a damn one sounds pleasant. So he opts for clarification. “This isn’t a ‘we’re over talk’ or ‘I’m mad talk’, this is ‘I’ve been worried about you and I know I fucked up talk’.”

“You haven’t fucked up Eddie, why would you say that?” Steve tries to argue but Eddie doesn’t let him start. 

“Because I called Robin. And then I called Nancy when Robin wouldn’t crack. It reminds me how eternally grateful I am that Buckley is only into women because then I really would be single. A fact I learned that most of my staff believed because of my jewelry collection.” Eddie wiggles his left hand in front of Steve and watches the omega catch the glint of the silver band on his fourth finger. 

“I didn’t lie to them or try to hide you, Steve. I thought that between the ring and talking about you all the time the people around me wouldn’t need an explanation because to me it was obvious. Ring on hand!” he waves, frustrated at his own obliviousness. 

“But of course, that wasn’t enough because someone at my shop called you my roommate, and after a long talk with Nancy I realized all the ways I’ve just been letting you slip from me, which is the last thing I want Steve!”

“Are you sure?” Steve whispers, not meeting Eddie’s eyes and the alpha feels like he’s been slapped. Because Steve can’t actually mean that? He reaches out to take Steve’s hand and his fingers pass over a scent blocker on his wrist, before spotting another on his neck.

“Steve, why do you have blockers on?” 

Steve pulls his hand back, and fiddles with the edge of the adhesive. “Makes school easier. Some of the teachers aren’t the nicest to the omegas in class and blending in is just less of a headache. You don’t have to worry about it. As for the roommate thing, it’s just a misunderstanding, it happens.”

“That was a lot of concerning statements in one go but let’s start with the first wild thing you said. Why did you ask me if I was sure?” Eddie hopes Nancy is right and this isn’t all too late, because for once in his life Eddie has more than the next month planned out and Steve is weaved into every detail. 

“Because if I were you I wouldn’t be sure. We aren’t the same people Eddie. You’ve got a great life here in Chicago between the shop, the shows, all the friends you’ve made. You make enough to afford this place on your own. Why tie yourself down with some wannabe yuppie from your hometown that can’t even decide what he wants to do with his life?”

Eddie knew this was going to be an uphill battle but one he’s been preparing for since morning. At least he didn’t have to put nails through a garbage lid this time. 

“I could ask you the same thing. We aren’t the same people Steve. You threw away the chance at a comfortable life to move here to Chicago with some wannabe rockstar from your hometown that sells tapes and CDs for a living. So why are you so sure?”

Eddie watches as Steve opens his mouth and closes it again, caught in the catch-22 of the logic. So Eddie takes the opportunity to plow forward. 

“Because I know how I’m sure. Because you drive me, Stevie. The chance to give us the life we dreamed of back in Hawkins is what's been making me work my ass off at the shop just so you never regret this. That you don't realize I was a mistake!"

"You aren't a mistake Eddie!" Steve shouts, finally meeting Eddie's gaze. 

"And neither are you!" Eddie yells back, cupping Steve's face. "I love you. I love that we aren’t the same people. I love how after all these years you surprise me. And I really don’t care that you don't know what you want to do, because need I remind you it took me three times to finish high school!"

The last part pulls a laugh out of Steve and a bit of relief floods through Eddie because that tells him he's at least reaching a part of him. Taking Steve's wrists, Eddie peels off the scent blockers and nuzzles the newly exposed skin. "I'm sorry I left you alone. I'm sorry I let people think you were my roommate because to me I'm so insanely in love with you that I didn't realize people could think otherwise."

"You didn't leave me alone."

"I did Steve without meaning to, and it makes me feel gross that I'm no better than your parents," Eddie rasps, the emotions constricting his throat. 

"You are nothing like my parents, Eddie. The fact that you're trying to fix this tells me that you're a better person than they could ever hope to be."

“What I’m hearing is this is fixable right? I didn’t just ruin my chances of being your mate?” Eddie hopes. “Because I’ll give you anything you want baby. Just be mine.” 

Steve shakes his head and kisses Eddie’s wrist. “I am yours Eds. You didn’t ruin anything.” Hearing his pet name relaxes him, and he scoots closer to Steve, hating the foot of distance between them. 

“I told everyone at the shop that we were engaged. That the Steve they keep hearing about is in fact my omega.”

“You didn’t need to do that-” Steve starts but Eddie cuts him off. 

“I did. I absolutely did. Because we’re a fucking family Steve, and I need people to know that somehow, I made a family with you.” He feels Steve wipe his face - Eddie didn’t realize he’d started crying.  

“A family huh?” Steve repeats, looking at Eddie fondly. “Pretty sure it’s just the two of us right now.”

“Two people can make a family, Stevie. Besides, it won’t just be the two of us forever, right?”

The comment makes Steve pause, biting his lip with worry. “I know you like teasing me about it but we don’t have to have kids. I know you didn’t grow up wanting to be some cliche sitcom family with a picket fence house, two kids, and a dog.”

“I also didn’t grow up thinking I’d be living past 21 and yet here we are. I’m 24 and I might not want the typical suburban life, but I think I could handle you, six kids, and a record shop. Dog to be determined,” Eddie thinks because more and more he pictures what that would be like. Pups running underfoot at the shop, annoying Eddie with their own music preferences, coming home every night to Steve. “The interesting thing about growing up is that people can change.”

“Did you just admit that you’re a grown-up Eddie Munson?” 

“I might have. After all, I did cancel Dungeons and Dragons for you.”

“And who said chivalry is dead,” Steve smirks, leaning into Eddie’s space. Eddie gently guides Steve into him so the omega is resting his back on his chest. He tilts Steve’s head to stretch his neck and peels off the next scent blocker. It takes a few moments but Steve’s scent starts to come through and Eddie breathes it in. 

“I know you said not to worry about it, but if people are giving you shit at school for being a male omega, I am more than happy to bring your bat for show and tell,” Eddie lowly growls into his skin. 

“Do not come to start shit, Eds. Classes are enough of a headache as is,” he groans. The sound makes Eddie think back through all the times Steve talked about his classes, the lack of friends he’s made, and now the blockers. 

“Steve, you don’t have to go to school. You know that right?”

“Of course, I have to go to school. It’s the thing people are usually supposed to do. Besides, what else do I have going on?” Eddie wants to point out that he’s not going to school but doesn’t feel like that would help him win this debate.

“Then think about it. Five, ten years from now, what do you see yourself doing? Because if that doesn’t involve college, fuck it. We’ll make it work.”

Steve is silent for a long time. The part of Eddie that constantly needs to fill the quiet is starting to scream inside his mind but pushes it down to give Steve space. 

“It’s dumb...” 

“I still want to hear it. I mean I’ve still got rockstar on my career choices list,” he admits, wanting Steve to not hide something so important from him. It’s a few more beats of silence until Steve says it so softly Eddie has to ask him to repeat it.

“A parent,” he reiterates, and Eddie can’t help but hug him closer as the words pour out of Steve. “Which is so dumb because I’m not supposed to want that. And I hate that I want it because it feels like a step backward. That’s literally the life my parents planned for me, the one I ran away from. But it's because I knew that kind of life would be so fucking dull...except when I think about that same life with you it’s anything but dull. It’s fucking everything Eds. I want to see you swing our kids around, letting them climb all over you. I want to be there for all their moments - their recitals, games, dances, whatever they want. I don’t want a quiet house. I want to make a bunch of little mixtape kids with you.”

“Mixtape kids?” Eddie manages to ask because that is the only thing he’s not completely on board with. 

“Yeah, you want to name your pups after songs, right? Well, six songs would definitely at least make side A of a mixtape.”

If Eddie hadn’t asked Steve to marry him already, he would have been down on one knee at the moment. Because how else do you react to a man like Steve Harrington telling you that his life goal is to have a whole pack with you. 

“I don’t think it’s dumb to want to have mixtape kids with me, Stevie. Because if I've gathered anything from Robin’s rants it’s that the whole point is to have the choice. Your parents didn’t let you have that choice. But you on your own still wanting that? It’s fine. And if we just have one kid because after that you find out it’s not for you, I’m not going to want you any less, I promise. All that to say, is if you hate school stop going. Life is too short.”

Steve takes in a deep breath and then nods. “I’ll think about it? If I do things right and take classes in the summer, I can at least get my AA. That might be enough.”

“Whatever you want, baby. I just want you happy.”

“I am happy,” Steve assures, but Eddie thinks back to the past week and is about to bring up all the ways Steve has been decidedly not happy, when his omega rephrases. “I’m working on it, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs, nosing Steve’s neck before nipping at the junction. “When is your next heat baby? I’d really like to make this official.”

“In about a week,” Steve purrs, and Eddie doesn’t ask why Steve hadn’t told him sooner. He knows why. What matters is that Steve still wants Eddie to claim him, and what’s another week of waiting when he’s been waiting all these years? He can wait. He can be patient.

“How long until the food gets here?” Eddie glances at his watch and tells Steve they have an hour. He watches Steve get up from the sofa figuring he’ll go change or shower, but does neither. Instead, he holds out his hand for Eddie to take. 

“An hour is plenty of time to get started.”

[sagexsenorita]

sooooo brian w a reader who’s unintentionally flirty/ seductive? kinda like danielle from girl next door? maybeee it gets a little nsfw when his coworkers look at her a little weird when she comes to his job in a skimpy outfit

Kiss Me

Brian x Reader // Brian Fast Food Nation x Reader // Brian Wilcox x Reader

Warnings: nsfw, making out, cursing

This is a little off from the request (I have a bad habit of looking at the request once and then just writing the whole thing in my docs) but I hope you enjoy it anon!

Masterlist

You hadn’t known Brian for long but once you got to know him he was your favorite person to be around. He was so nice to you, he let you chatter all day long while he listened, nodding his head every once in a while and asking you questions about everything he knew you loved. He was a pretty simple guy and that was what you loved. He didn’t try to drown you in gifts or semen, he just shared his music with you and took you to the mall whenever you asked.

How your friendship came about was a little untraditional, you didn’t know this but when Brian met you he felt like he was falling in love. It was probably just the fact that your tits were absolutely mesmerizing to him, but nonetheless he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. When he finally got the chance to talk to you he couldn’t believe his ears. You were complimenting, giving him thank you’s after thank you’s for helping you with the homework, and smiling every time you caught him staring. He was planning the date he was determined to take you on when he saw you talking to your friend, you touched them the same way you touched him, you laughed just as loud at their jokes. Brian immediately felt deflated, stupid even for thinking there was more than what he could see. He ended up not asking you out on that date and just stuck to give you test answers and car rides, and he stayed friends with you for a long time until you got so fucking tired of waiting for him to make the first move.

You had just ordered a bunch of new tops that you knew would drive Brian crazy, his eyes would get all wide, he’d probably have to hide behind a wall for a second to fix his pants. He thinks you don’t notice these things but you do, every time. You pulled on some jeans that made your ass look great, they were baggy around the legs but were tight around your waist, you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist you if you just got him to really listen. Your top showed off your chest very well, his eyes had plenty of space to wander, you left very little to the imagination. You applied the lipstick he bought you and the perfume he complimented that one time. Mickey’s was right around the corner so you grabbed your purse and started walking towards his work, ready to let him know what you really wanted.

His first thought as he heard the click of your shoes behind him as he flipped burgers was

Huh that sounds a lot like (Y/N)’s favorite pair of heels

Until he realized

Oh shit, that is (Y/N)’s favorite pair of heels

He quickly dropped the rusty spatula and turned around, peeking his head through the serving window, trying to see what you were doing in a nasty place like this.

Brian?

(Y/N)?

Hey Brian!

Your voice rang through the whole restaurant, capturing the customers attention, everyone got the perfect view of your ass.

Brian, on the other hand, was using all of his strength not to stare at your chest. It felt like you were trying to make him lose it.

There’s no fucking way you know her

He turned to see Andrew gaping at you, his eyes transfixed on your tits.

Yes, I fucking know her

Brian and I have been good friends for a while actually

You smiled brightly at Andrew before turning to look at Brian, batting your eyelashes at him

He didn’t actually look that dreamy, normally you’d tell him he needs a shower and Andrew was not someone you would ever usually smile at, but desperate times call for desperate measures

Good friends, huh?

Perv

Brian are you getting off work soon?

Yes I am, right now

What? No you’re not, I’m about to be cut!

Sorry man, you’re covering my shift

No!

Bye Drew!

Andrew continues to bitch but you and Brian ignored it as you smiled at his sarcasm, he was just as rude as you.

Brian walked out of the kitchen and finally got a good look at you. Your hair was out of your face, he could see your beautiful eyes and soft lips, there was nothing he wanted to do more than kiss you.

You could tell

He had that dumb look on his face, you wanted to tell him to make a move but you had all this planned out. You grabbed his hand and pulled him out of Mickey’s, he was pulling his hat and outfit off as you made your way to his beat up car. He refused to believe you actually loved that piece of junk, he hated it. He’s sure you only liked it cause he never made you give him gas money, no matter how much you offered it.

As the two of you climbed into his car he realized he wasn’t even sure what you were here for.

Brian, do you think I look nice?

It wasn’t the first time you had asked this, you were always looking for his opinion on everything; your hair, your nails, your outfits, you loved looking nice for him. This time was different though, you were staring into his eyes, your breasts were almost spilling out of your low-cut shirt. He didn’t know what to say, or do.

U-Uh, yeah, you look-your outfit…

He was struggling to get the words out, his eyes moving from your pretty face to your soft painted lips back and forth.

He was trying so hard to remember that he would never have a chance with you, that the universe was fucking with him, that this is just some cruel joke, tha-

Just kiss me, Brian.

Your hand rested itself on his thigh as you leaned in, before you knew it he was grabbing your face and your waist, pulling you into him for a strong, passionate kiss. You went from leaning over the center counsel to sitting in his lap, your hands were in his hair as you kissed him. Your lips and his danced together, you never wanted to stop. Brian couldn’t take his hands off of you, both of them were placed on your waist, squeezing and exploring, moving lower to your ass. The harder he squeezed the more you squirmed on his lap, he was getting harder by the second, he had never needed you this badly. You pulled away from the kiss to get air, staring into his eyes, with your thumb on his lip you mumble into the small space between you

Please take me home

Oh I’m gonna do a lot more than that

I hope y’all liked this!

Comment your thoughts!

[olderthannetfic]

What do cishet men think makes a good female character, versus what actually makes a good female character?

--

"Wow, I'm so proud and impressed, Honey. What are needs?? I don't have those!"

It's not even sexy lamp! It's blandly supportive lamp!

I mean, a lot of things, really, all of them hallmarks of 1. weak writing and 2. treating women like an alien species. The most irritating tend to be the vapid cheering squad crap for how it plays into the view of romance where faint heart never won fair maid and they're not talking about working up the courage to ask someone out.

Who the fuck falls in love because they're impressed? That's what gets you groupie sex, not romance.

A romance involves two people who actually pay attention to each other's personalities and needs, not one person slaying a dragon so they can be ritually gifted a sex slave wife in payment.

A lot of dudes I've known were constantly horny for every quiet girl they came across because they'd project all kinds of hilarious nonsense onto her. The two most egregious cases I'm thinking of are a girl who was just dumb—so dumb—and all the dudes in college were convinced she was super deep because she never had anything to say and another who... well, she was one of the awesomest people in college, actually, but they'd be like "She was off in the corner smiling mysteriously during the party. What do you think she was thinking about?" Cue the digressions about the philosophy she was no doubt contemplating. So I asked her.

Coffee.

She was thinking about coffee and whether she should make another pot.

Don't get me wrong: the woman in question is brilliant and has plenty of thoughts on philosophy, but this clown at the party had spun this entire story about her in his head, and it was because she was quiet, and he was assuming that meant shy and ethereal instead of practical and goal-oriented. She wasn't even shy, just not talkative.

There's this persistent dude delusion that women are mysterious and unknowable that's usually a cover for not wanting to listen when being told unappealing truths about how their female friends actually feel and think or willfully misunderstanding the perfectly predictable thing their girlfriend is mad at them for. Meanwhile, women have no choice but to know what men think, so while there's plenty of garbage wish fulfillment writing going back the other way, it's not so wholly devoid of any understanding that men are, you know, humans.

If more men's writing read as self aware wish fulfillment, it would irritate me less. There's nothing wrong with your mary sue getting an unrealistic aspirational partner. But too often, it just reads as cluelessness.

Anyway, there are a bunch of female character types who show up pretty routinely in art by and for straight guys who exist to be boring cheerleaders in a context where anyone would either be like "I want a turn" or "You're being fucking irresponsible". No woman is ever funny. Humor is what men do to impress, not something they'd be the recipient of.

Shy, modest, and supportive might be good qualities in real life, but they're the human equivalent of beige when you slap them on a background character or a love interest. The only way to make them shine is if we really dig into a character like that, and that's what's missing from how most men write women: any sense that they're writing a human with an interior life and her own priorities.

I've focused on romance here, but the kind of writer I'm thinking of doesn't really include women for any other purpose. Some better writers are fine at female bosses and other characters (except they're still never funny), but when they go to write romantic partners, all their knowledge of human emotions falls out their ear, and we're back to biddable beige voids. And when they have sass, it's often in a bratty little sister way I find grating also. It's all cute whining and never any real wit.

It's not every male writer who's guilty of this, obviously. A lot of it's just about writing skill and some is about genre. Guys writing female protagonists or fic about characters who were well fleshed out in canon often do better because they're inherently doing more with that character than with a side character. But when it comes to love interests or supporting cast, there's a lot of bad writing floating around.

I remember laughing my ass off at something... I think it was in the first DreadfulWater mystery... where the author comments dryly that his hero, like most men who fancy they like strong, opinionated women, likes them better in theory than in practice. And, holy shit, apparently, the author picked that series back up after years or something because half of these books are new to me!

Or Longmire. It features an old-ass gary stu who eventually ends up with his much younger hot deputy. This should be the epitome of male wish fulfillment in a way I wouldn't like, but the author is good at making all of the characters feel like they have a life of their own. You get the sense the love interest is a person with actual reasons for liking the hero, not a cutout who's there to sooth the author's ego. Also, she's a foul-mouthed dick, extremely violent, and often drives the plot.

Basically, if you ask any even half way skilled writer what makes a good character, and they'll tell you the standard list. And they'll be right. Agency, memorability, humor, yadda yadda.

And then a certain kind of writer will apply all of that logic to their hero, their sidekick, and their villain and not at all to their love interest.

Frankly, a lot of dude writers would produce something more compelling by setting out to write a buddy comedy with the wise-cracking, pudgy best friend comic relief, turning that character into a woman, and having the leads kiss at the end while changing absolutely nothing else.