#so I’m not sure if it’s better to hop around events or if I should keep it somewhat linear

[brairslair]

(i debated whether or not to ask this anonymously)

so yknow how eddie has a W.A.S.P pin on his vest? can you plz write an eddieXreader scene inspired by their song

Animal (F*** Like A Beast) ?

😅😊

i absolutely love this reqqq, tysm for letting me run with this! hope you like how it turned out @nerdyhooker

Like an Animal - E.M.

18+ ONLY (minors please dni)

a/n: finally figured out an idea i liked for this, and i think it turned out pretty good! although i may have gotten a bit carried away lmao. not sure if this is as rough as you might have had in mind, but i tried to pull as much from the lyrics as possible! i hope you like what i ended up with <3

wc: 5.8k

cw: eventual smut, fem!reader, bartender!eddie + english teacher!reader, kinda fuckboy eddie vibes?, enemies to lovers vibes, light bondage (handcuffsss), p in v sex, unprotected sex (do not do this), oral (fem receiving), pet names (princess, sweetheart, honey, baby), technically drinking and driving, smoking (cigs + i don’t smoke so idfk what i’m talking about), brat reader but she gets super subby, kinda mean but soft dom eddie?, light dacryphilia, these idiots have been head over heels for each other since high school and neither of them knew it bc they’re stupid and stubborn, extremely vague mention of aftercare, not proof read, lmk if i missed anything!

don’t forget to like, reblog, follow, and comment to support my work! it always makes my day, mwah

“well if it isn’t the little princess”

Just like that, nine months down the drain. You massage your temples as you recall the past few days. The countless arguments between you and your, now ex, boyfriend form a persistent migraine between your eyes.

In hindsight, you really should have seen it coming. Your relationship had been rocky for months, but you were so busy with other obligations that you hadn’t had the time to confront any of it head on. Fortunately for you, he was more than willing to step up to the plate.

You wouldn’t let yourself admit it out loud, but you almost felt relieved with his absence in your small apartment. That was until you remembered the loss of his half of the rent.

Everything happened so fast, it was hard to process any of it. It all felt like it was swirling around and around too quickly for you to pick any one thing out. Your solution? Alchohol.

You grabbed your keys and hopped into your polished, clean, mint green beetle, setting off for the local dive bar. You could only recall one other time you had been to the small bar, having been dragged there by colleagues in the name of “bonding” after a particularly long day at work.

Drinking wasn’t something you did often, reserving a glass of wine for holidays and special events. Tonight, you decided you needed to make an exception.

As you parked and stepped out of your car, you felt nerves twist in your gut. The place was undoubtedly busy, which wasn’t shocking for a Friday night. People were smoking and talking out front, and you couldn’t help but notice how out of place you must’ve looked.

A knee length grey skirt fell loosely over your hips, paired with a rose colored, ruffled blouse, and a pearl necklace with matching earrings to top it off. Not a single tattoo in sight, and certainly no cigarette in hand. Your heels clicked against the pavement, smoothing down your skirt as you made your way inside.

The second you enter, you’re hit with a haze of smoke and the overwhelming smell of alchohol, nicotine, and sweat. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before you head for the bar.

You shuffle your way over to an empty stool at the front and take a seat, plopping your beaded purse on the counter. As you wait for the bartender to make their way to you, you take a better look at your surroundings. The place felt oddly cozy for being in such a frumpy looking building, and a band was playing some sort of aggressive rock song you had never heard before. Despite it being a little too loud, and a little too cluttered, you were already starting to relax a little.

“Hey there, what can I get for ya?”

You whip your head around at the voice, and your stomach instantly falls into your shoes. It would be impossible not to recognize the dark mop of curls that you got so used to seeing bouncing about the halls you shared all those years ago.

Although now it was pulled back into a sloppy bun at the back of his head, loose curls falling around his face. You’d hate to admit it, but he looked really nice.

“Well if it isn’t the little princess.” he laughs, and you feel your fists clench at the old nickname. “Didn’t think this was really your scene.”

“Well that would be a correct assumption, Munson.” you bite, bouncing back from the initial shock, “Unfortunately, it was the closest bar to my apartment, and I wasn’t in the mood to drive across town.”

Your grumbling makes you feel like a petulant child with a grudge, but you can’t help it. Eddie just always has getting on your nerves.

“I didn’t know you worked here, or I would have made the sacrifice.”

Eddie smiles his big, toothy, infuriatingly smug smile, and shakes his head, “You haven’t changed one bit, huh princess?”

“Don’t call me that.” you demand through gritted teeth, holding on to every ounce of restraint you have not to scream at him to just get you a drink.

He leans forward on the counter with a lopsided, goofy sort of expression, invading your space and ignoring your little outburst. “So what brings you in here tonight, princess? Boy troubles?” he mocks with a pouty tone.

You glare daggers into his skull, and he knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “Just a beer will do.”

He gives a small salute before leaving to get you your drink of choice.

The rest of the night is spent drinking, wallowing, and actively avoiding any and all interactions with the familiar bartender. The minimal interaction you did have involved him pushing every button in sight, and you fighting to maintain an ounce of self control.

Any time your eyes made their way over to him, of their own volition, his eyes were already on you. He had this look, like he knew something you didn’t, and it infuriated you. Oh how you hated him.

It had always been this way, ever since high school. He made it his mission to push you to your limit, and you always had to one up him somehow. It became almost like a game. You weren’t surprised to see he hadn’t changed after all this time. It was almost comforting in way, if you thought about it long enough.

As the night went on, the activity slowly started dying down, and the atmosphere got quieter. You were on your second beer of the night, trying to let the cold liquid take the edge off. Even still, you felt your fingers tap against the counter with anxiety.

How could he leave you to fend for yourself at the drop of a hat? After nine months? Did your relationship hold that little of value? How were you supposed to afford next quarter’s rent? There’s no way you could afford to live in your current apartment. You would have to move. How would you find somewhere decent to stay in such a short amount of time? You were screwed.

“Hey sweetheart, we’re gettin’ ready to close up.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up to see the one person you wanted to see the least right now. His expression was soft. Softer than you’ve ever seen it aimed in your direction. It made you want to dig your nails into his skin.

“You alright?”

The question takes you aback, your brows furrow at the uncharacteristic behavior. “Fine, thanks.” you mumble, taking another gulp of your drink.

He looks at you with what can only be described as sympathy, and you feel your chest tighten. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You mull over the words for a moment. The answer should be so simple. You don’t smoke. In fact, you’ve never smoked once in your life. Why would you ever agree to smoke with him of all people?

But then his hand is outstretched across the bar for you to take a cigarette, and his eyes look so… kind? You’ve never thought of that word to describe him before. Maybe it was the alchohol, or maybe he put some sort of curse on you, because suddenly you’re taking the cigarette and following him out front.

You can’t help but watch as his thumb flicks at the lighter, putting it up to your lips before bringing it to his own. You follow his lead inhaling the smoke, and then you’re instantly coughing and spluttering it back out of your lungs.

He laughs lightly as he cooly blows the smoke to the side to avoid getting it in your face. “I take it you’ve never smoked before? If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up, Munson.” you spit out, face heating up with embarrassment as you make another attempt, ignoring the burning in your throat.

It’s silent for a while, before anyone decides to break it.

“So,” he starts, “You a big time writer now?” he asks, staring at the pavement.

He remembered you wanted to be a writer? You didn’t even think he knew that about you. “English teacher, actually. Hawkins High.”

He looks at you then, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. “You stuck around that hell hole? No wonder you’ve still got that stick up your ass.”

You scoff bitterly, “Well I guess some of us are more academically inclined than others.” you glare, “I actually enjoy my job, shocking as that may be to you.”

“I'm sure you do, sweetheart.” Eddie replies smugly, causing you to grit your teeth as he leans against the brick wall of the building. "Gettin' to boss people around all day must be a dream come true for you." The parking lot is almost completely empty at this point.

Of course his civility was just a calm before the storm. You mentally pinch yourself for your momentary lapse of judgement. “God, you are such a-“

“Comedian? Kind soul? Sight for sore eyes?” he offers dramatically, eyes twinkling at your grimace.

“I was going for obnoxious, conceited, prick.” You hiss, stomping out your cigarette, “and I do not have a stick up my ass!” you shout, turning on your heel to leave.

Eddie rushes to catch up to you, laughing boyishly in a way that makes you speed up. “Aw come on, princess, don’t be like that. I was just teasing.”

“I said not to call me that-” You whip around to face him, and suddenly you’re practically chest to chest, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You’re so close you wonder if he can feel your heart racing behind your ribs.

Then he’s looking at you with that look. The one that makes your insides bubble over with fury. The one that makes you feel like he knows some sort of deep secret about you. It makes you want to slap him in his smug face. Yet, for some reason, you can’t seem to look away from his gaze.

Finally, you pull yourself away, and march over to your car. Just as you open your door, you hear a retreating shout of, “Next drink’s on me, princess!” and then you’re out of there faster than you can process your heaving chest and shaky hands.

After that, you somehow end up back in that same bar every Friday. Some sort of force, unbeknownst to you, seemed to draw you in like a magnet. As promised, the next drink was on him… and the next, and the next, no matter how many times you tried to refuse.

No matter how much you tried to talk yourself out of it, you always ended up sitting on the same stool, at the same time, with the same drink in your hand. Every week, without fail, you would leave the bar a fuming, heated mess with only one thing on your mind. Eddie fucking Munson.

This week in particular was different. You were absolutely swamped with assignments that needed to be graded, and you spent all of Thursday night and Friday working on getting them done.

It wasn’t until you woke up the next morning that you noticed the hiccup in your routine, and for some reason it made you sad. It wasn’t like you were obligated to go every weekend, but a part of you had grown to enjoy your Friday nights at the bar. Then some sick, twisted part of you wondered if he had noticed your absence, but you shoved the thought away as soon as it surfaced.

As the day went on, you convinced yourself it wouldn’t hurt to just go tonight instead. After all it was a Saturday night, and you had already cleared your workload for the week, so it’s not like there was any real harm in it.

Alternatively, it was a Saturday night. Eddie’s band performed Saturday nights. You didn’t want him to think you were there to see him, because you most certainly were not. You just didn’t want to miss out on your weekly drink, that’s all. Nothing more.

Still, it was a Saturday night. It would do you some good to look a little nicer, right?

You start to regret it the second you park your car. The shift in the air is blatantly obvious as you enter walk towards the crowded space. Men out front whistle at you as you walk to the door, and you can feel eyes practically digging into your skin as u head for your usual seat at the bar. Your leg bounces with nerves at the attention. You've never worn this dress before. Never had a reason to. You don't allow yourself to wonder why you chose to wear it tonight.

You ask the bartender for a long island iced tea, and catch yourself checking the small stage in the back of the room. You internally scold yourself and glue your eyes to your drink.

It isn’t long before cheers are heard around the bar, pulling your attention up to see Corroded Coffin walking out on stage.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” Eddie’s voice booms out of the speakers, causing people to whoop and holler in reply. You feel your leg begin to bounce.

He continues talking to the small crowd while his band finishes setting up, and you can’t stop yourself from ogling at him. You desperately want to pull your eyes away, to look at anything else, but you can’t.

He’s wearing an old band t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off his arms, chest, and a sliver of his waist. Your eyes trail across the exposed skin, noticing he has quite a few new tattoos littering it, and your stomach twists. He has leather and chain bracelets decorating his wrists, curls falling wildly around his face, and you notice light bouncing off of his signature rings still adorning his fingers. You definitely don’t remember him looking like this in high school.

As he moves around the stage it’s abundantly clear how confident he is up there. His stage presence is truly impressive, and his voice is really something. It's gotten deeper since the last time you heard it. You subconsciously wet your lips as you watch his fingers move around the neck of his guitar. He’s come a long way since the last time you saw him perform. You can’t help but smile as you watch him in his element.

Then the smile is wiped clean off of your face when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the bar. You freeze, feeling like you suddenly have shards of glass lodged in your throat. Has he known you’ve been sitting here the whole time? If he saw you smiling you might have to run into oncoming traffic.

Then you notice what he’s singing.

“I'm on the prowl and I watch you closely I lie waiting for you I'm the wolf with the sheepskins clothing I lick my chops and you're tastin' good”

Your stomach flips and you can feel your whole body heating up. Something tells you he notices too, which makes it a million times worse. What the hell is wrong with you?

“I do whatever I want to do ya I'll nail your ass to the sheets A pelvic thrust and the sweat starts to sting ya I fuck like a beast”

You shift in your seat, the eye contact becoming far too overwhelming. You opt to look down at your lap for the remainder of the song to prevent yourself from doing something embarrassing.

Soon enough the set is over, and the band starts breaking down their set up. You’re so deep in your own thoughts by the end of it that you fail to notice the man approaching you, until his arms are caging you against the bar.

“Well hello there, pretty lady.” You gasp at the familiar voice speaking directly into your ear, feeling his shirt graze your back. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He beams down at you, watching you huff and roll your eyes as you turn to face him. Your fingers wriggle with the efforts not to hit him.

“It was an impulsive decision.” You mutter quietly, eyes briefly darting to his toned arm beside you before snapping back to his face, “I didn’t come yesterday.” You concede, unsure of what else to say.

He smiles, seemingly amused. “I know. Your seat was empty all night.” he says lowly, face so close to yours that you can feel his breath against your lips. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, and then he’s pushing off of the counter to head back behind the bar and help clean up.

So he did notice. Did he miss you? Was he saving your seat, or is it just a coincidence?

You feel dizzy with a million questions. Why did you let him get so close? Why were you going to let him kiss you? Why does he look so good. Why do you care so much? You should have said something, anything.

You finish your drink in silence, watching Eddie as he flits around tidying up the place, and then the bar is closing. You feel your gut twist at the thought of going home, and you don’t quite understand why, but you blame the alchohol.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Eddie jogs up to you as you grab your purse, arm outstretched and offering a cigarette. His hair falls prettily around his shoulders, and you only now notice that he takes much better care of his curls now than he did in high school.

“Care for a smoke?”

His charm must be cranked up to 100 tonight, because, once again, you agree with less hesitation than you would have liked.

You stand out front, Eddie waving goodnight to Garret as he heads to his car, and you watch as the last car whirs out of the lot. Then you are alone. Just you and Eddie. Your heart hammers in your chest.

“How’d you like the show?” he asks, exhaling a puff of smoke in the process.

You handle the burn better this time, holding back a cough from erupting as you take a drag. “It was… good.” You say hesitantly.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, “Just good? Wow, then we really need to get our shit together if we're gonna-“

“You were amazing.” You blurt out, unsure of why you felt the need to boost his ego. You clear your throat before amending your statement, “It… The show was amazing.”

Eddie hums in satisfaction, smile tugging at the corners of his lips around his cig. “You know, you didn’t have to dress all fancy for lil ol’ me.”

You wore a tight, low-backed, black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, sheer black stockings, black boots, and some dainty silver jewelry. Nothing too crazy, but definitely much different from how you would normally dress. Admittedly, you felt a little self conscious.

“Well good thing I didn’t dress fancy for you.” You huff, starting to feel a little silly for trying so hard to fit in. God, did he always have to be so cocky?

“I mean, I’m not complaining.” He starts, pushing off the wall to step towards you. “You look fucking incredible. Of course, you always look incredible.”

Smug bastard.

“Thank you.” You feel yourself flushing at the words, immediately getting sick to your stomach at how much you care what Eddie Munson thinks about how you look. “Glad I got your seal of approval.” You quip sarcastically, desperately trying to pick a fight. Anything to stop you from feeling whatever it is that you’re feeling right now.

Why did he always find a way to get under your skin? No one else makes you feel as utterly frustrated as he does.

He’s absolutely unbearable.

You force down another inhale of smoke as you watch Eddie slowly make his way closer to you. The way he’s looking at you makes your mouth go dry. You can’t tell what he’s thinking and it’s driving you up the wall.

“You know, you don’t always have to be such a brat.” He exhales casually, pausing in front of you. Your heart stops. “It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to me every once in a while.”

“It might.” You rasp out curtly, just now realizing how out of breath you suddenly feel.

He laughs, and the sound makes your insides flip.

“You have such a big fat crush on me, don’t you sweetheart?” He smiles down at you wolfishly, and it almost makes you shrink under his stare. You suddenly are acutely aware of your surroundings.

You scoff and cross your arms defensively, “I most certainly do not have a crush on you, Munson.” You spit out venomously. How dare he even suggest such a thing? It couldn’t be farther from the truth. You loathe him.

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, taking a stride closer to you, making you step backwards.

“Think I don’t notice how you stare at me? How you sit up a little straighter when you see me?”

Your back hits the wall.

“You aren’t subtle, princess.”

You feel like a fucking deer in headlights.

“Staring and glaring are two very different things.” You pant, desperately searching for oxygen. Anger burns in your throat at his absolute audacity, and your skin feels like it's buzzing.

“Is that so?”

You can feel his chest press into you as the brick digs into your shoulders. He takes a long inhale of smoke, and your head is screaming at you to push him off of you and curse him the whole way home, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

It feels like everything is moving in slow motion as he grabs your chin, and then, unexpectedly, he‘s pulling your jaw down to part your lips. All you can do is stare at him and his cocky fucking smile at your compliance. You feel like you’re in a trance.

Before you can even think, his lips are pressed against yours and pushing smoke past your lips. You gasp at the contact, effectively inhaling the smoke and sighing against his lips. Your brain short circuits and goes completely numb. His lips feel like the cure to a disease you've been plagued with for years.

For a moment, you almost forget who you’re with, until he pulls back to look at you.

“Well if you hate me so much, then why are you squeezing your thighs together?”

You immediately rip your legs apart, not even realizing what you were doing until it was too late. You can feel steam pouring out of your ears at this point.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

He’s right. For some reason, you do love it. Something about him makes you crave more, and you’re starting to believe he may be an incubus. It’s making you go insane.

So you finally wave the white flag.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Munson.”

So he does. Again, and again, and again, until somehow you end up back at Eddie’s trailer with your wrists handcuffed to his bed frame and your clothes thrown around his room.

Hard rock music plays faintly in the distance, and the room smells vaguely of incense and weed. You feel like you've been transported to an alternate dimension.

His lips feel like they’re everywhere. Your mouth, your jaw, your neck, and then he’s leaving sweet little kisses on your tits, making you whine and arch your back towards him.

“Gotta teach you how to let loose, yeah?”

He gently tugs on one of your nipples and you gasp, and Eddie can’t help but laugh as he kisses his way further down your body.

“You’re fucking adorable when you’re not being a pain in the ass, you know that?”

You groan as he spreads your legs open, kissing and biting at your thighs. “Shut up, Eddie.”

“Oh I’m Eddie now?”

Your hips buck up in frustration, glaring down at him with a scowl. It feels like he’s been teasing you for forever. “Eddie” you whine out, “Stop teasing.”

He slowly starts kissing closer to where you need him most, but not quite close enough. “You don’t think you deserve it? Why do you think your wrists are locked up then, sweetheart?”

You wiggle and writhe beneath him, but don’t answer. Eddie moves his face closer to your cunt, and you finally think you’re going to get what you want, and then he blows on your clit. You whimper and clench around nothing, flinching away from him. It's absolutely pathetic, getting so worked up when he’s barely even done anything yet.

“I asked you a question.” Eddie tries again, rubbing soothing circles into the back of your thigh while he waits for a response.

“My wrist’s are locked up because…” You take a deep sigh and force yourself to just spit it out so that he’ll touch you already. “because I was being a brat." you grumble. He’s lucky your wrists are locked up right now, you think.

Eddie kisses your thigh in approval, “That’s right, and bratty girls don’t get to call the shots. Right?”

You huff and pull against your restraints once more, before ultimately complying. “Right.”

You figure it won’t do you any good to act out, especially given your current position.

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Eddie grins up at you, before finally leaving a gentle kiss right on your clit.

You throw your head back into the pillows, immediately feeling relief at the small touch. He then runs his tongue up your slit, swirling it nice and slow around your little button, making you sigh and melt into the bed. His curls tickle your thighs where he works diligently.

It quickly becomes apparent that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that makes you wonder how many other women have been in this exact same position. The thought makes you dig your nails into your palms, but the it’s is quickly forgotten when you feel him slide a finger into you.

"See?" He starts, words muffled by your folds, "Just needed someone to put you in your place, huh? To take the reigns?"

You flutter around him, and every fiber of your being wants to say something snippy in response, but all you get out is a blissed out sigh. He hums happily.

His fingers are much thicker than your own, calloused from his years of playing guitar. Looking down you notice he took all his rings off and set them next to you on the bed. He never takes his rings off, ever, you remember that. For some reason the simple act makes your heart leap out of your chest.

He pulls his face back from your slick for a moment just to watch the way you suck in his finger, and he moans at the sight of you. The sound makes your brain feel like static. “Fuck, baby, you needed it bad, huh? You’re fucking dripping all over my sheets and I've barley started.”

All you can do is nod your head and hum in response, and your jaw drops open with a soft moan as he slides in a second finger with ease.

“How long have you been wanting me like this, sweetheart? Be honest.” He asks, never faltering in his pace.

You whine at the question, embarrassment flooding your features as you turn your face to hide it in his pillow. He quickly kisses up your body, gently turning your head back to look at him. “You can tell me. No need to be embarrassed.”

You take one good look at his face, and you know that he already knows. He’s giving you that look. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Mm… Since-” you hesitate to finish your sentence, and then a particularly hard thrust of his fingers does it for you. “Since fucking high school! Christ, Eddie-”

A groan erupts from the back of his throat as he kisses you hard, licking and biting at your bottom lip, and then suddenly his mouth is back on your clit and you feel like you’re floating. He picks up the pace, eating you out like a man starved, flicking his tongue in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

You feel your hips start to move against him, and he groans into your pussy making you cry out. “Yeah, that’s it.” He mumbles against your core, “Ride my face, honey.”

You can’t control the plethora of sounds that escape you, and your body seems to have a mind of its own. You writhe on the bed as Eddie devours you, holding your thighs over his shoulders. He searches for your sweet spot with every thrust of his fingers, and he knows he’s found it when your eyebrows pinch up, a high pitched whine reverberating throughout his bedroom.

You can feel him smile against your cunt, continuing his assault against that spot that makes you see stars. He never stops looking up at you to watch your face contort with pleasure. His already dark eyes are now fully eclipsed with lust and need.

“Oh my god-” you gasp out, heaving for air as your legs begin to shake around his head.

He can tell you’re close from the way you’re squeezing his fingers and writhing under him. He doesn’t speed up or change his pace, he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing, moving the flat of his tongue back and forth against your clit and curling his fingers up into you just right.

“Eddie, mm… i’m so close-”

The second the words leave your lips, he pulls off of you. His mouth and fingers are completely gone in an instant, and you feel like you’re about to cry.

“What the fuck?!” You shout at him, voice weak with tears threatening to spill, “Why did you stop?”

Eddie grins from ear to ear, lips and chin glistening with your slick, “We talked about this, remember?” he says cockily, leaning down to lick a bead of sweat from your chest, “Brats don’t get to call the shots. You’ll take what I give you, won’t you sweetheart?”

You grumble and kick your legs out in frustration, but he kisses you to make it better. You slowly let him melt you back into putty in his hands, tasting yourself on his tongue. He presses his knee directly against your puffy cunt, groaning at your wetness against his skin as you sigh into his lips. You go to move your hips against him but he quickly stops you, moving his hand up instead to push down his boxers, his dick already hard and aching to feel you.

“Promise I’ll make you feel so good, just gotta be good for me first alright?”

You nod your head frantically, completely and utterly at his mercy. He looks like sex personified, and you just want to feel him. “Please, Eddie-”

He smiles sweetly at you, kissing your cheek as he slides the tip of his cock through your folds. “Awh, look at you and your manners.” he taunts, but this time you can't seem to care. In fact, you realize, you kind of like it.

You like hearing his voice.

You like it when he’s mean.

He pushes just the tip against your dripping hole, and you’re practically sobbing. “How can I say no when you asked so politely?” and then he’s sliding all the way into you, and you’re already a wreck.

“Holy shit- you feel so fucking good” he groans and huffs as he starts to slowly pump in and out of you, making sure you feel every drag of his cock inside you.

You’re already panting, stretching your hands against the cool metal to try and grasp for anything that can ground you, but you come up empty. He’s so much bigger than you expected him to be, and the stretch is practically making you drool.

“Eddie, fucking- god”

“That’s it, keep screaming my name just like that baby.” He encourages, kissing and biting at your collar bone, sure to leave marks, “You sound so goddamn pretty when you say my name.”

Eddie adjusts your position, pulling your leg over his hip and pushing it against your chest. The new angle has your back arching off the bed, a whimpering mess as you claw at the handcuffs.

Eddie leans his head to rest in the crook of your neck, panting and whining into your ear. “Shit, princess-”

Your cunt squeezes him at the nickname, and the moan that slips past your lips is guttural. “Oh, fuck-” He clamps his eye shut with a deep groan, gripping your thigh so hard it’s sure to leave little bruises.

That’s the first time he’s used that nickname since you started, and he knows it. He did it on purpose.

He lifts his head to look at your blissed out face, a goofy, lopsided, fucked out grin on his lips. “I knew it.” he gloats, thrusts getting harder, “Look at me.”

You muster up the energy to flutter your eyes open and look at him. The pretty smile on his face makes your legs shake.

“You like it when I call you that,” he beamed, “That’s why you hated when I used that name for you in public, huh. Cause’ it made you fuckin’ soak your panties?” he laughed meanly, watching tears fill your waterline. He leans down to brush his lips against yours, voice lowering into something sweeter. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you practically scream. He looked so pretty, and he felt so good, and you wanted him closer. It was all too much, you needed to hold something, anything. You needed to pull yourself back down to reality.

“Eds- Eddie, please can I touch you?” your fingers twitch where they’re held above your head, “Wanna feel you- please, i’ve been so good-”

Eddie whines at your sweet pleas, but maintains composure. He wanted to stick to the plan.

“Oh, honey, no” he pouts out at you mockingly, watching the way you strain for anything to grasp and his dick twitches inside you, “No, you gotta give me one first. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Too fucked out to formulate a simple response, you simply sob and nod your head. Your hips start to rock up into his thrusts, but Eddie grabs your hips with one hand and pushes them back down into the sheets. You feel like a live wire.

Then he brings his thumb down to your clit, gently rubbing circles on it, and your eyes clamp shut. He kisses your open mouth and you try your best to kiss him back, but he’s moaning into your mouth, and he’s touching you, and fucking you, and Eddie Munson is fucking you, and it’s all so good that you just can’t.

“Eddie, i’m gonna-” you babble, almost incoherent, feeling the knot getting tighter and tighter, “Please please please don’t stop!”

He puts more pressure on your clit and leaves sweet little kisses on your neck, “I’m not got stop, it’s okay.”

You’re so close you feel like you’re about to explode.

“You can cum for me, princess”

That’s all you needed to see stars, black clouding your vision as he rides out your high, not once stopping or slowing down his pace. You can vaguely hear him talking you down, but nothing registers past your ears ringing.

Then your wrists are released and he’s flipping you over so that you’re on top, straddling him, and your hands and lips are all over him in an instant. In this position he hits your g-spot perfectly, and you can’t help but sob against his chest at the overstimulation.

“Just one more for me, I promise.” he soothes, gently rubbing your hip as his guides your hips back and forth on his cock, making you both cry out. You start to set your own pace riding him, leaning back against his legs to give you the perfect angle.

“You’re so perfect.” He mutters, breathlessly, “My pretty girl- fuck.”

Eddie was now moaning and whining louder and more freely than before, you can tell he’s getting close now too, and you’re already reaching your second climax of the night.

“Wanted you for so long,” Eddie admits, gripping your hip tighter, “can’t believe this is real.”

You whine at the confession, leaning forward to press your lips to the shell of his ear. You make sure to let your pretty noises and praises flow freely, just for him. Your fingers gently brush hairs from his forehead before scratching your way down his chest.

“You fuck me so well, Eds”

“Oh my god- you feel so good”

“Please, Eddie, I wanna feel you cum”

He’s an absolute mess, wrapping both hands around your hips and bending his knees up so that he can fuck you down onto him. “Wanna cum with you sweetheart. Want you to give me another one.” He rambles against your chest, and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving little red marks behind.

“I’m so close, honey, c’mon. You can give it to me."

You bite and claw at his skin, so close to tipping over the edge.

"Soak me.”

You collapse forward as tears of overstimulation fall onto his inked skin, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder to ground himself while he paints your walls white. You ride out your highs, clutching each other like a lifeline. When you’re both back on planet earth, he cleans you up nice an gentle, and whispers pretty little praises into your skin as you fall asleep with your limbs intertwined.

“Knew you had a crush on me, princess.”

Let’s just say you no longer have to go apartment hunting!

asks are open!

[therealcocoshady]

Hi, coco!

You could make a third part of Eminem x Young Actress Reader, where the reader accompanies him to a game in Detroit and the cameras can't stop focusing on them because Em has never been seen so smiling and affectionate with someone. For the rest you can add what you want. By the way, I love your work and I love that you write about Eminem since almost no one does.<3

Family Game

Eminem x Younger Actress Reader

Part 1 : Daddy’s Spaghetti

Part 2 : Red Carpet Appearance

AN : thank you for your request ! I hope you liked it. I added my own little twist to it 🥰

Ever since your remarked outing at the Oscars, everyone knew you and Marshall were dating, much to your delight. Sure, you would gladly do without the press coverage, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a tiny bit satisfying to have everyone know that Eminem, hip hop’s most eligible bachelor was spoken for, by yours truly, no less. After all, you were not the first (nor the last) public figure to thirst over him and it felt nice to have the “competition” know that they should back off. Especially when you were in a long distance relationship : him in Detroit, you in LA. Sure, you trusted each other and often traveled to make it work but, still, it’s easy to get jealous, especially when both parties are public figures. Marshall was well aware of your status as Hollywood’s rising star and, since he had been your crush for years, you knew for a fact that he has tons of ladies throwing themselves at him. 

In spite of the distance and a couple of jealousy episodes, the two of you managed to make your relationship work, however. Marshall frequently flew out to LA to record with Dr Dre and other artists and to visit you and, whenever you weren’t shooting a movie, you joined him in Michigan. Your relationship was now in the serious state of « we’re both hope at each other’s place ». Your living room table was full of CDs and notepads and his living room was made cozy with your favorite crystals (which he always made fun of), scented candles (which he secretly loved) and fuzzy blankets (which he stole whenever you weren’t around). The whole relationship, despite trials, felt cozy and domestic. And it was made even better by the fact that Marshall had finally managed to ease up. You tended to blame it on the good critical reception after the Oscars : as soon as the two of you had been spotted together, holding hands, Marshall happily gushing about you to the press, both your fans and his had showered you with love and showed nothing but support. Whenever you were positing, fans (most of the time, respectfully) asked about him and they seemed truly overjoyed by the relationship. From what you gathered in the social media comments, they were also dying for the two of you to be spotted together again. Marshall was pretty much an hermit and not the kind to go out and about when he knew he might be spotted but, on one occasion, he had to oblige the fans. 

His beloved Detroit Lions were playing your Los Angeles Rams at Detroit’s Ford Field Stadium and there was no way in hell you would miss the occasion to attend. Knowing how protective of your relationship he could be, you made plans to attend on your own, with a couple of friends who would fly in for the occasion, but Marshall surprised you by actually requesting your presence. 

Don’t you want to go with me ? He asked. 

You mean… on a date ? You clarified. 

I mean there would be other people around, like family, friends and shit but we could be together, he said with a smile. 

You mean you would agree to being spotted with me ?! You asked jokingly. You know I wouldn’t be caught dead in Lions apparel ! 

What I mean is that I’d be proud to hold your hand, even if you’re wearing that stupid Rams hoodie, he grinned. 

Ok, you giggled. As long as I’m not forced to cheer for your team ! 

You ended up attending the event in a private suite with a lot of other people. Of course, his children were in attendance, as well as a couple of D12 friends. You had met everyone previously. A couple of months into the relationship, Marshall had organized a dinner for you to officially meet his daughters and everything had gone smoothly. You absolutely loved them, and same went for the friends he had introduced to you on different occasions. At the game, you were also joined by a couple of your friends, that you not so secretly planned on setting up with some of his. In your mind, there was no doubt that Alicia and Porter were meant to be and the Game seemed like the perfect occasion. It was joyful and everyone was really happy to be here. You were donning your favorite Rams apparel, much to Marshall’s dismay, but that didn’t prevent him from casually holding your hand. 

For how much would you wear Lions apparel ? Your friend jokingly asked. 

Nobody in this room can afford it, you replied with a grin. 

Oh really ? Marshall asked with a smirk. 

How about if you guys get married ? Porter asked. Would you be willing to support the Lions ? 

That would require a HUGE rock, you giggled. But yeah, sure, if we ever get married, I’ll wear Lions gear for all games, except the ones against the Rams. 

Your friends erupted in « oooohs » and « aaaahs ». The rivalry between your two teams was enough to fuel a dozen of conversations but, other than that, everyone around you had to agree that you were kind of the perfect couple. Your best friends always pointed out that Marshall was good at keeping you grounded and reminding you of the things that mattered - besides all the LA glitz and glamour - and Marshall’s circle seemed happy that you encouraged him to go out of his comfort zone. 

He was usually stressed out whenever there were tons of cameras around. It was unsettling to you, at first, because it was part of the job, but as your relationship progressed and he came with you to some events, he seemed to ease up. Still, he wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed his company nonetheless and you didn’t need him to kiss you in public or even hold your hand to be happy to be with him. In settings like football games, though, he was himself - the man you knew and loved in everyday life. He could be seen clapping, shouting, cheering… a far cry from the stoic face he arbored on red carpets and magazine covers. And you absolutely loved to see him enjoy himself and have fun. You were enamored with his smile and happy demeanor and you didn’t care too much about the 60 000 other people, you only had eyes for him. Obviously, though, as a Detroit native and global superstar, he was one of the centres of attention when Lose Yourself started playing before the game and everyone started singing/rapping along to the lyrics. Everyone in your group watched Marshall, who was definitely in a good mood. So were you, to be honest, and you couldn’t help but rap along, this song being one of your favorites ever. As the song ended, you could see Marshall sitting right next to you, trying not to laugh. 

You’re adorable, he chuckled. 

What ? You asked with a giggle. It’s the ultimate stadium song ! And my boyfriend is the one who wrote it !!! 

I love you, he simply said before cupping your face and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. 

That was the last tender moment the two of you shared before the end of the game. When your two favorite teams played each other, there was no romantic involvement anymore. It was all betting, taunting and calling each other names. For the first two quarters, the Rams seemed to dominate, which you gladly shoved in your boyfriend’s face, but when the Lions ended up winning, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Despite it all, and in spite of you being a sore loser, Marshall behaved like the perfect boyfriend and pecked you on the cheek, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you exited your suite. His team winning always put him in a celebratory mood and he was more affectionate than usual, not giving a damn what people would see or think. He even went so far as to kiss your lips. 

Of course, in the following hours, the Internet went absolutely crazy over the pictures of the two of you at the stadium. While some accounts were raving about your outfit (because you did put some effort into making that Sports apparel work !), most of them were gushing about Marshall’s display of affection and how in love the two of you looked. 

« Look at his smile 🥰 » commented one, or « Look how in love he looks when she’s rapping his song 😭❤️ » were a few of the comments you could see under the videos of the event. It was extremely cute and, in moments like these, you felt like the luckiest woman on earth. However, a swarm of other comments started to appear, focusing on… Marshall’s daughters. The three of them were sitting on the row just behind you and they could be seen laughing at your nonexistent rapping skills (all fair, really) and mocking their father’s display of affection. You didn’t take offense at all - you’d been there yourself and you knew how icky it could feel, seeing your parent being affectionate with someone in public, but the press and social media accounts seemed to turn it into a family feud. If the headlines were to be believed, neither Alaina, Stevie or Hailie approved of the relationship and thought you were too young for Marshall. They apparently despised you and saw you as the most evil and wicked stepmother who was more than likely after their Dad’s fortune. Of course, reality couldn’t be further from the truth. Whenever you were in Detroit, you spent a great deal of time with Marshall’s daughters and you considered as friends. So much so that you even made plans of your own, that did not include him. It wasn’t rare for the four of you to have dinner or go shopping. On occasion, they even visited you in California and you soon planned to go on a girls’ trip in Morocco. So, when Hailie showed you the headline on your phone, everyone burst out laughing. 

« Evil stepmother », Stevie chortled. That’s hilarious. 

Is that because of the face you made, Hailie ? When Y/N was rapping ? Alaina chimed in. 

I was making a face because they were corny ! She laughed. Look at Dad’s face on the video. He’s all cute and lovey dovey. Of course I wanted to puke ! 

Marshall rolled his eyes. He was no stranger to his kids making fun of how in love with you he was but, honestly, he didn’t care. For the first time in forever, he was happy and thriving in a relationship. A healthy one, at that. Whenever you were around, he could barely contain his joy and good mood and he often thought he would do anything to make you smile. He hated public attention but he simply loved showing you off and enjoying life with you. However, he had to admit he was a little annoyed by the comments involving your relationship with his daughters. He knew there was no truth to it whatsoever but that didn’t make it less annoying. First of all, he hated seeing his kids’ names in the media, especially if it was negative and, secondly, he hated the idea of lies involving all of you, the people he loved the most on this earth. However, the four of you were grown women and he knew better than to say something so he figured it would be best to wait for it to die down. 

Unfortunately, though, the rumors did not die down and the whole thing got blown out of proportion. It wasn’t only on social media : press and other media outlets got ahold of the story and even dug up some obscure social media posts and took them out of context. They really made it seem like there was hatred between the girls and you were a mean gold-digger who wanted to estrange Marshall from his children. Nothing could be further for the truth though, and you even celebrated the holidays together. After years spent in the public eye, you tried not to let it get to you but it was hard. Even if some of your past relationships had been publicized, this one was on a whole other level and you had a hard time dealing with the scrutiny. Especially when some people were starting to wish for the end of your career with comments like « What a b****. Hope no one casts her ever again 🙄 » or « Hope she enjoys her Oscar because she won’t last much longer in Hollywood 💀 ». You tried not to let your feelings show. Marshall was already annoyed and you didn’t want things to get worse. After all, you knew how overprotective he could get over the people he loved. 

A few weeks went by and the attention seemed to die down around the holidays. You had been with Marshall for a year and a half and it was your first time celebrating together. You would spend the days leading up to Christmas in Michigan, go back to your family in California for the holidays and then jet off to a private Island lent by a friend for some vacation time just the two of you. Marshall would even join you in LA to spend some time with your family who was definitely approving of him. They absolutely adored him and considered him a part of the family. 

In the week leading up to Christmas, you were on Christmas tree decoration duty with the girls while Marshall was letting you do your thing. Hailie had come up with some ornaments as merch for her podcast and you thought it would be cute and funny to take a selfie with one of them that said « Shady or Nice ». You posted it to your Instagram account with some cheesy caption and didn’t pay it too much attention. When you checked the comments, a day or so later, you were surprised at the reaction. What you thought would be a cute nod to your boyfriend and his daughter’s podcast ended up in a shitstorm, with people basically accusing you on sucking up to Hailie to get to Marshall. In their mind, you were a master manipulator. Of course, these were just a bunch of people commenting and the rest seemed rather supportive and happy to see you acknowledging your relationship, something you rarely did on your social media account. Still, you were a little bugged off when you went to bed. 

What’s up, babygirl ? Marshall asked as he laid next to you. 

Nothing, you shrugged. Just these mean trolls. 

What are they saying now ? 

That your daughters hate me, you summed up. And that I’m trying to suck up to them. 

That’s stupid, he scoffed. The girls love you and you know it. 

And I love them too, you know ? You replied. But I don’t know… I don’t like people getting the wrong idea. And I see people commenting about me in their posts and it breaks my heart. 

It’s not your fault, he said before kissing your forehead. Let’s not think about that, ok ? Just focus on the holidays and the great time we’re going to have. 

I’m going to miss you for Christmas, you pointed out. 

Three days, he chuckled. And then I’m joining you in California. And after that… you, me, a private island and your tiniest bikinis. 

You nuzzled his neck and enjoyed the warmth of his embrace, making you forget all of your worries. The next day, you were set to hop on the jet to go back to California and enjoy some family time with your brother and your parents. Before that, you enjoyed one last brunch at Marshall’s place, with his daughters. Hailie got everyone matching ugly Christmas sweaters and you were absolutely moved that she got one for you. You took corny pictures in front of the Christmas tree posing with your boyfriend’s daughters while he was rolling his eyes at your dumb poses. You even got Marshall to pose with you. He wasn’t big on taking pictures but he knew how important these were for you and the girls so he obliged with a smile on his face. A few hours later, you were on the jet, scrolling social media and noticed that Alaina had posted the picture of you, her and her sisters in front of the Christmas Tree with the caption : « Happy holidays from our FAMILY to yours 💕 ». You thought it was the sweetest thing ever that she considered you as family. Of course, trolls were still in the comments, but you tried to stay positive. A few hours later, Hailie updated her last podcast episode of the year, with Stevie as guest. 

So, before we begin this episode, we wanted to address something, she began. 

Family matters, Stevie specified. 

Right, Hailie nodded. You guys have been commenting a lot on last episode’s video and on my Instagram account…

All our accounts, her sister corrected.

Yes. Everyone’s account. It seems like Internet is going crazy about a certain video that was taken at the last Lions Game, so I thought… we thought we should clear things up, Hailie said. I understand that there are always going to be rumors about our family, and we can’t help it at this point, but it’s the Holidays and I don’t my mood to be ruined by negative attention and lies. So… Stevie, do you want to comment on the video ? 

Basically, we were at the game, enjoying some family time and people filmed our reaction to Y/N… our Dad’s girlfriend, rapping Lose Yourself, Stevie explained. And kissing afterwards. And what really sparked the whole thing is the face Hailie made. 

Yeah, I pretended to puke, Hailie giggled. And no, guys, it’s not because I hate Y/N or anything like that, it’s just… we’re a normal family, guys. Whenever you see your parents being cheesy and corny, you want to puke, right ? 

Right, Stevie giggled. So, let’s not dwell on this but for the record : we love Y/N and she is not what people make her to be. We see her as family, you know ? 

Yes ! It’s the Holidays, it’s a family time and we all know I love Shady stories but… nothing Shady here. It’s all love, Hailie chuckled. 

Too much love, Stevie joked. 

This warmed your heart even more. The girls absolutely didn’t have to jump to your defense but the fact that they did warmed your heart and you couldn’t wait to spend some time with them again. You sent texts to thank them and wished them happy holidays, saying you were looking forward to seeing them soon. You also texted your boyfriend, telling him how amazing his kids were and that you loved him and his family. 

MARSHALL’S POV 

Marshall was eating dinner with his daughters when he got a text from Y/N that immediately put a smile on his face. 

You girls are amazing, he said with a smile. 

No idea what you’re talking about, Alaina said with feigned innocence. 

I think you do, he replied with a grin. Seriously, you didn’t have to do that but… thank you. It means a lot to me. 

We weren’t going to let people think we hate her, Stevie said.

Not when she is actually about to become our stepmother, Hailie said with a smirk. 

Marshall immediately let his fork fall on his plate, a look of surprise on his face. 

I… erm… wanted to talk to you about it first, he said. How do you even know… ? 

I found the ring sketches in your office last time I went there, Stevie said. I was searching for one of your old CDs. 

And you had to go yapping to your sisters about that ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Are you really going to propose ? Hailie said with excitement. 

I mean… I’ve been thinking about it, yeah, he admitted. I wanted to make sure you girls were ok with it first but, if that’s fine with you, I’d like to propose to her over the holidays. 

The girls erupted in cheers and immediately gave their blessings, commenting on how they never thought this day would come. Of course, they quizzed him about his plans. 

Were spending a couple of days with her family before going on vacation for NYE, so I was planning on asking for her father’s blessing, he explained. 

Isn’t he like… almost your age, though ? Stevie chuckled. 

It’s a matter of respect, he shrugged. I appreciated when Matt and Evan asked for my blessing so I thought I’d do the same. Can’t hurt to have your future father-in-law on your side. 

And… as for the proposal ? Alaina asked. 

I know it’s not super original but I was thinking of doing it on the private island, over a nice dinner on the beach, at sunset or something like that, he said. 

It’s so cute ! Alaina said. I love it. 

I think my Dad’s gone corny, Hailie joked. 

You think it’s corny ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. 

Oh definitely. But she’s just as corny so she is going to love it ! 

One question though, Stevie said. If you guys get married, she’ll move to Detroit, right ? 

That’s sort of the plan, yeah, Marshall said. She’d move for work quite a bit, depending on where movies are shot, but she’d live with me. Why ? 

So… she’d have to turn into a Lions fan eventually, right ? 

I’m counting on it, he said with a smirk. 

Is that why you’re proposing ? Alaina joked. 

Maybe, he chuckled. I swear to God, I’m putting a ban on Rams apparel in the prenup. 

[breezeflows]

The Long Road (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Chapter 4

Y’ALL THIS ONE WAS/IS A ROUGH ONE. I had a lot of writers block with this chapter, but I think I finally accomplished fitting in everything I wanted it to have! Also just for clarification, a lot of things that happened in this chapter will be discussed more thoroughly in future chapters! (Aka Ford’s perspective.) Thank you everyone so much for your patience and continued support!! With that, here is absolutely gut wrenching chapter 4!!

Also, last thing I promise, if you want to be added to the tag list, just comment!

Themes: Lying, Arguments, Strong language, Lotsss of bottled up emotions, Fiddleford gets traumatized by the portal, Ford over prioritizing Bill and his work over sleep/his wife etc, all the fun stuff! This chapter is very sad! But we will finally be back to the present in chapter 5!

You found yourself waking in the late afternoon, your bags now packed and in hand as you make your way out of Lizzy’s apartment. And although you were a nervous wreck to return home and confront Ford about last night’s events, you were also happy at the thought you’d be sleeping in your own bed tonight. You were hopeful that Ford would have a good explanation. Maybe he was drunk out of his mind, due to your absence, or maybe Fiddleford brought the two of them there after a breakthrough in their research. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You keep your thoughts running as you settle into the passenger seat of Lizzy’s car. Your mind is a flurry of hope, worry, and anxiety as you mull over all the different possibilities of what happened last night.

Lizzy hops into the driver’s seat, her gaze flickering over to you as she senses your nerves.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Everything will be okay, alright? I’m sure Ford has a good explanation for everything. At least, he better.”

You let out a nervous sigh, once again fiddling with your wedding band as you try to steady yourself. 

“I hope so,” you murmur, eyes drifting out the window as Lizzy kicks the vehicle in motion. “I really don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.”

Lizzy places a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, giving it  a squeeze.

“Let’s just focus on getting there for now, okay? Try not to imagine any worst-case scenarios until we actually talk to him.”

You give a small nod as she drives, the world outside becoming a blur of trees and late afternoon sun.

6:00 PM.

With a final turn down the gravel path, you arrive at the place you consider home, the cabin. The familiarity of your surroundings should be relieving, yet you find yourself on edge, tugging down on the beanie that rested against your head.

You unclip your seatbelt as the car hauls to a stop, Lizzy turning to give you a reassuring smile.

“I’ll drive around closeby.” she says. “In case things go, you know, not so great.”

You nod softly, thanking her as you grab your bags from the backseat, stepping out of the car. The gravel under your feet crunches with each step, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to the front door of your home, a nervous hand twisting the knob and pushing it open. As you step foot into the familiar space, you’re surprised to find Ford in the living room. He’s seated on the couch, working on what seemed to be some sort of gadget on the coffee table.

He looks up as you enter, his expression casual with a hint of excitement.

“You’re back!” He states as he stands, approaching you with a warm smile.

You swallow hard, clutching your bags tightly as you regard him warily.

“I missed you, how was your trip? There’s so much I have to tell you, Fiddleford and I had a major breakthrough this weekend!”

Ford’s words are light and pleasant, and he looks genuinely happy to see you. A stark difference from how he was the night before. He steps closer to you, looking as if he’s about to pull you into an embrace, but you take a step back, releasing your bags from your grip.

Ford’s smile falters for a brief moment, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Where were you last night?”

He seems taken aback by your blunt question, a brow raised as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Ah… well I was here, working with Fiddleford, like I said.” he replies, gesturing to the gadget on the table. “Why do you ask?”

Your heart twists in your chest as you clench your fists, frown adorning your lips.

“Is that all..?”

Ford looks perplexed by your question, his eyes filled with concern as he takes a step towards you, his expression growing increasingly more confused and worried.

“What do you mean? Where else would I have been?”

You go to speak, but falter, looking down at the floor as you hold your elbow sheepishly.

“Nevermind.. It’s nothing, sorry.”

Ford pauses, his concern only deepening as he watches you avoid his gaze. He takes another step closer, his voice gentle.

“Y/N, please tell me what’s wrong,” he says, reaching out to touch your arm.

“You’ve been acting strange ever since you came through the door… Did something happen? You can talk to me.”

You swallow hard, before looking up to meet his gaze.

Ford’s expression is genuine, his grip on you squeezing gently as you gaze at him for a moment. This Ford was a huge contrast to whoever you had talked to last night, this was the man you knew and adored. Maybe you and Lizzy really did have too much to drink, and you mixed it all up with some other guy? It seemed too coincidental, but the way Ford was acting now made you second guess everything. He seemed totally unphased, and there wasn’t a single thing about his tone that would lead you to believe he was lying. This was still your husband, after all.

You shovel all of your thoughts and suspicions down as you sigh, placing a hand over the one he had rested on your arm.

“It’s nothing, I promise,” you say, cracking a soft smile as you lean into him. “I just missed you a lot. It’s good to be home.”

Ford’s eyes soften at your words, and he pulls you closer to him, gently enveloping you in his arms. He holds you close, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, his voice soft and gentle. “More than you know.”

Your ears and cheeks turn red at his words as he pulls away, just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he speaks.

“So, you uh, need help with your bags?”

A soft blush covers Ford’s cheeks as you smile once more, your hand reaching to cup his cheek, thumb grazing the skin underneath.

“Sure, although I wanna hear everything you wanted to catch me up on while I unpack.”

If somehow possible, Ford’s cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink as you touch his face, his gaze flicking down to your hand before coming back up to meet your eyes. He then clears his throat, voice slightly strained.

“Y-yeah of course,” he stammers, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head. “We can talk in the bedroom while you unpack.”

“Sounds like a plan.” you say with a chuckle, grabbing both of your bags and handing one to Ford, placing a quick peck to his cheek before pulling away.

A small, boyish smile appears on his lips at your gesture. He quickly takes the bag you handed him, keeping his eyes on you for a moment before looking down at your luggage in his hands.

He clears his throat once more, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness as he speaks.

“Right, let’s go then.”

Ford then begins to lead the way to the bedroom, you trailing along behind him.

As you both enter your shared room you begin to unpack your bags, Ford chatting away excitedly as he helps you with your things, pulling out your clean clothes and placing them in the closet. 

You smile at his enthusiasm, but you can’t help but notice the bed as you unpack. The sheets are just how you left them, pillows fluffed and blankets tucked into the edges of the frame.

“Did you get any sleep while I was gone?” you ask, shutting a drawer after you’ve placed a pair of jeans inside.

Ford pauses mid-sentence in his excited explanation, faltering as his glaze flicks from the bed to yours.

“Uh, well… no, I didn’t,” he admits, his voice laced with a hint of guilt. “With all the work Fiddleford and I’ve been doing, I guess I just forgot about sleep.”

You frown deeply as he moves to continue helping you unpack, your arms falling to your sides.

“Ford..”

Ford pauses again, a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he senses your disapproving tone.

“Just promise me that you’ll at least come to bed tonight. Okay? I worry about you when you aren’t getting any rest.”

His expression softens, gaze full of guilt and affection meeting yours. He nods in agreement, a sheepish smile crossing his face.

“I promise.”

Over the following nights, Ford makes a point of coming to bed, holding true to the word he gave you the night you returned from Lizzys. However, the pattern you had desperately hoped for doesn’t last long. The old habits return quickly, Ford abandoning the bedroom in favor of work in the lab for days on end. Days soon turn into weeks, weeks into months, and so on. You find yourself lying alone in bed each night, your mind filled with anger and frustration. Sometimes, you’re kept awake by the bright flashes and rumbling from below. A part of you wanted to stomp down there and give him a piece of your mind, to leave him and this broken marriage behind, but another part of you yearned for Ford. You longed for the day you’d see him emerge from the lab instead of Fiddleford, or the day he’d prioritize you again. Even just a simple acknowledgement of your presence, other than “hello, how are you”, would do. You missed how things used to be. You missed him.

But the day never came.

You were too stubborn to be the first to break the now built-up tension, after all it was Ford’s fault the two of you were in this predicament anyway. At least that’s what you told yourself, feeding into the false hope that things were going to somehow magically improve. 

The same cycle repeated itself, leaving you feeling helpless and abandoned.

Until one night.

You found yourself lying alone in bed yet again, your head laid on what was once Ford’s pillow, his scent no longer attached to the fabric. The sounds of the lab seem louder tonight as you toss and turn, grunting in annoyance. You glance towards the clock on your nightstand, the glowing numbers reading midnight. Frustration mounts within you, the lack of any attention whatsoever from Ford wearing you down.

Suddenly, an extremely loud whir from the lab forces you to sit upright, your heart pounding in your chest as your irritation gets the best of you. Finally, you’d had enough.

You throw back the covers in an aggressive motion, swinging your legs over the bed. You pad across the room, your bare feet touching the cold hardwood floor. Each step you take fuels the growing anger in you, your patience thinning.

Reaching the door, you pull on it, the sound of it creaking open adding to the building tension. With a huff, you step forward into the darkness and descend the stairway leading to the lab.

You press the button to the elevator harshly, stepping inside the metal contraption. As you descend further you hear the sound of faint yelling, along with a thud. Your stomach twists with frustration and anxiety, your mind reeling with possibilities of what the hell was going on down there.

Finally, the elevator doors slide open, revealing a blinding blue light behind the glass window of the lab. Your feet carry you quickly to the source, dashing through the entryway when all of a sudden, your shoulders are grabbed.

Your body stiffens as your eyes adjust to the lighting, revealing a disheveled Fiddleford in front of you. His fearful eyes search your panicked ones, his grip painfully tight.

“Fiddleford-”

“You’ve got to get out of here Y/N,” he states frantically, his voice shaky. “This machine will bring about the end of the world, it’s dangerous beyond comprehension. It should never see the light of day.”

The sound of your heartbeat fills your ears as you process his words. The seriousness in his voice and panicked look in his eyes were enough to send a chill down your spine. You take a moment, before stuttering out a few words.

“What? Machine? The end of the world..?”

Before you can finish your sentence, Fiddleford leaves in a rush, your frightened gaze moving to the source of the light.

In front of you stood what seemed to be some sort of portal, with your husband standing right below it.

You watch him as you stand there, dumbstruck by fear and confusion. You clench your fists before taking a firm step forward, swallowing dryly.

“Ford..?”

He stands with his back turned to you, mumbling something before yelling aloud.

“No, you know what… I don’t need anyone!”

Your legs tremble as you make your way towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Ford jumps violently at the contact, his head whipping around to face you. His gaze widening for a moment, before turning cold and harsh.

“What..? What are you doing down here Y/N?” He snaps, his tone sharp and defensive.

Your gut clenches at his tone, your eyes brimming with tears as you finally break.

“What the actual fuck, Stanford!” You yell, hands formed into fists as you hold them in front of you.

“What is this?! This.. this thing?!” You yell, pointing towards the portal. 

“This is too fucking far!!”

Ford’s eyes narrow, his irritation growing apparent. He stands his ground, stepping towards you and jabbing a finger towards your chest.

“This?” he replies, gesturing to the portal. “This is my life’s work Y/N! Everything I’ve dedicated myself towards for decades! Something you wouldn’t even understand the significance of, even if I explained it to you!”

His words cut through you like a knife, tears now streaming warmly down your cheeks. You grab hold of his wrist roughly, jerking him towards you.

“No!” you yell, your grip unrelenting. 

“This is some sort of doomsday device you abandoned EVERYTHING for! That you abandoned ME for!”

Your voice breaks with that last sentence, your teeth clenching as you attempt to stifle your pain.

“I’ve stuck with you through everything, Stanford! When you lost Stanley, during those horrible years in college, through this!” You say, pointing to him and then to yourself with your free hand. “When you’ve practically neglected me as your wife, all of it! I stayed with you because I’m in love with you, Stanford!”

Ford’s eyes soften at your words, a strong flicker of guilt in his expression as you list all the sacrifices you’ve made for him.

“But I can’t,” your voice trembles with each word, your grip on his wrist loosening to where it falls back to your side. 

“Y/N…”

Every emotion you’ve bottled up until now weighs down on you, your heart racing in your chest.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Your tearful gaze meets his, his heart aching at the sight.

Ford looks as if he’s been torn in two. Flashes of guilt, anger, and concern, all etching across his face as he stands there, desperately searching for the right answer. And although you never in a million years would intend for him to be put in this spot, he knows he has to choose. The person who devoted their everything to him, or everything he’s ever devoted himself to.

Ford stutters out his answer faster than he can think, sweat beading against his forehead.

“This isn’t,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, his expression heavily conflicted. “This is something monumental Y/N, something that could change the course of existence itself. I have to do this,” as Ford continues, you feel your heart snapping in two, your gaze lowering to the floor as you attempt to take in what he is saying.

“I have to finish what I started, Y/N.”

Your vision blurs with heavy tears as the two of you stand there in deafening silence. 

Your expression is filled with pure distraught as you lift your head, your gaze meeting Ford’s. Although he doesn’t return it, his eyes glued to the ground with a solemn frown on his lips. Your lip trembles as you lower your head once more, standing there for a few moments before forcing yourself to turn away.

“Okay.”

Your legs feel heavy with each step, every part of you screaming at you to stay. But deep down you know you can’t, it was time for you to choose yourself for once.

So with that you trudge on, out of the lab and out of the cabin.

The cabin you once considered home.

Thank you for reading! I hope y’all like how this turned out :)

Tag list: @karmaisacatluzi @therottenheartofscum @catr4dora @slay-thou-pookie @wow-life-love4 @missgurlsstuff @violetvsworld @inquiit @mandossillyriduur @mokikow @phirbat

[sothisart]

1972

Remus couldn't sleep. His injuries from the night before still hurt, apparently Madame Pince's potion started to wear off. He was used to it though. He'd had it worse most of his life. Hogwarts hospital wing actually gave him a big relief with all the treatment he was getting every full moon after starting school.

"Remus..."

A quiet voice interrupted Remus' thoughts.

"Are you sleeping? Can I hop in for a moment?"

Sirius's big eyes were looking at him with this inexplicable expression, like a little puppy asking for permission to sleep in his bed.

"Sure...," he answered though he was not sure how that would work, he had never had anyone visiting his bed at night. Well, except for being cuddled by his mum on nights like this.

Sirius climbed up, settled himself next to him and whispered.

"Does it still hurt..."

"Yeah, but it's better than it has usually been," Remus whispered back.

Sirius was silent for a moment. Then he lifted his gaze and looked straight into Remus's eyes.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could help. I...."

Remus didn't know what to say to that, Sirius had discovered his secret just a couple of weeks before, and Remus still wasn't used to talking about it so openly.

"I just want to say... you're my best friend and you'll never be alone with it." Sirius said, his eyes shining in the darkness, his arm slipping around Remus's back to held him close.

#wolfstar #wolfstarfanart #wolfstar 

1975 

Remus was lying on his back, trying not to think about the events of previous several days. He still couldn’t suppress the haunting memory of Sirius’s cursed body after he’d escaped the Black mansion for, hopefully, the last time. Remus was trying to relax his muscles and, maybe, fall asleep like he hoped Sirius managed to do. Sirius was now safe, only that mattered.

“Moony… can I…” he heard soft whispering.

“Pads, are you ok? You should be resting…”

“I know, I will. Just I…” Sirius said but didn’t finish.

Remus shifted to the side of the bed, grabbing his hand and pulling him in. He knew sending Sirius back would only make him feel worse, and he wanted Sirius to feel better after what he’d been through.

Maybe Sirius couldn’t sleep either.

Maybe he’d had a bad dream.

Maybe he was scared even though nothing bad could happen. At least for now.

“You’re safe here, Sirius,” Remus whispered before you could stop himself. He didn’t know if that’s something you say to your friend, even the best one, but Sirius only shifted closer and wrapped his arms around Remus’s back to held him tight, and whispered:

“I know.”

1976 

Remus sometimes still needed to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He’d shared the bed with Sirius so many times over the years. It wasn’t even slightly suspicious to any of their friends who were used to them frequently waking up together in one four poster. Platonically of course. Only the way Sirius was pressing his mouth to Remus’s neck was not a platonic as they were thinking.

(I’m not sure I’ll write sth for other years, they are quite clear from the pictures anyway 😅, I had like 5 examples of more pictures to this story, but somebody stop me cause it would never end)

Also, huge admiration again to MsAlexWP and her @languagelessonswolfstar - I loved the idea of them sleeping together from the very first year at Hogwarts, the idea original to Language Lessons! It inspired me to draw this series.

[xfgpng]

𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦 —

— : [ nsfw ] yakuza boss terushima, stripper y/n, cunnilingus, pussy slapping, pet names, fingering [ sir kink if you squint ]

— wc : 1.3k

the way you moved your hips was hypnotising. try as he might, terushima could not bring himself to look away from your body. he can hear kuroo talking, something about shipments and guns. he should be paying attention, he’s their boss after all but he can’t look away.

why would then have a meeting in the new club? he usually doesn’t pay attention to the dancers. they’re beautiful sure but he knows they want his money and to be known as his girl. he finds it amusing more than anything else.

you’re beautiful and he loves the way he strobe lights shine from above you. you’re so confident with your body and the way you move has everyone hooked. he has no doubts that his club his going to be raining in a lot of money tonight.

“she’s new” kiyoko says, placing their tray of alcohol on the expensive glass table, “she started on thursday”

“you didn’t think to take it up with me?” terushima asks, eyes never leaving you as you grip the pole with both your hands. his mind wonders to other poles you could hop onto.

“you never take interest in our dancers” she says dryly, “just as long as they keep customers coming back, right?”

he ignores her and stands to loosen his tie. he didn’t like the way the men down below were watching you, drooling over your body. it made him clench his jaw.

“send her to my office” he says, tone dismissive and leaving no room for anyone to argue. they know better anyway.

you weren’t scared. you knew all about the shady business and the owner of the club. you enjoyed dancing and the extra money wasn’t bad either. whatever they did wasn’t your business but when mikasa told you the boss wanted to see you, your palms felt a little clammy.

“come in” terushima, your boss, grins, “close the door sweetheart”

“yes sir” you say softly. not because you’re scared but because you’re in shock. you didn’t know this was your boss.

“have a seat” he says, “would you like a drink?”

“sure” you shrug, taking a seat on one of the luxury leather chairs in front of his desk. he smells good, even from where you’re sitting. he licks his lips and you notice the small metal ball on his tongue.

“no need to be so nervous love” he chuckles, handing you a glass of wine, “i don’t bite”

you wouldn’t mind if he did bite but you don’t say anything, subtly squeezing your thighs together as you take a sip of the wine. after a long night, it felt good to sit down and have a glass of wine.

“i don’t usually meet the dancers unless it’s for work or events” he taps his desk as he crosses his legs, “but i saw you out there tonight and i had to meet you”

you don’t really know what to say so you nod, smiling when he grins at you again. he really was so handsome but the piercing you knew he had was distracting you.

“want to see it up close?” he smirks

you feel flushed.

“i’m sorry” you say quickly, not realising you had said that out loud.

“don’t apologise sweetheart” he laughs, giving you a perfect view of the piercing again. “do you want to come sit closer?”

you don’t know why but you do. walking over, you sit on his desk right in front of him. you lean back on the table and look down at him as he eyes your legs. he’s not ashamed to check you out and even though it’s the bare minimum and he could probably get away with doing whatever he wanted, he doesn’t touch you.

“i didn’t ask for a private show but i’m not opposed to it now” he bites his lip when you tilt your head sideways. you look so pretty perched on his desk. when he invited you upstairs, he really was only interested in meeting you. he wasn’t against playing the long game.

“did you ask me up here to talk, sir?” you ask, pretty eye lashes batting at him as you teasingly spread your legs. you were usually confined so you had no reason to be shy around him. it was obvious he liked what he saw.

he groans and runs his hand through his dirty blonde hair. he narrows his eyes at you and you hide your smile.

“y/n, you’re testing my patience” he warns, “i didn’t call you up here to fuck you”

“no?” you pout

he sighs. he was known for getting around but he was more interested in you than he’d ever been in anyone else for a very long time. he doesn’t really remember a time where he was this interested.

you weren’t necessarily intimidated by him and you seemed confident which he appreciated. people enjoyed kissing his ass and he hated brown nosers.

“unless you want me to” he rolls his sleeves up, “you’re a big girl, speak up”

you spread your legs slowly, revealing just now interested you were. it was embarrassing but you wouldn’t let him know that. your sheer panties left little to the imagination up close.

“you let everyone fuck you?” he scoffs, eyes never leaving your pussy even as he mocks you.

“no” you frown, “but can you blame me right now?”

he laughs and shakes his head. he could tell you were going to be a handful and he would enjoy keeping you in check.

you lean down and kiss his jaw, trailing soft wet kisses down his neck and he bites back a groan.

“touch me sir” you whisper, “please”

he grabs your hips forward, causing you to yelp and fall backwards. he nips and bites the inside of your thighs as he grips your ass. he slaps your pussy when you try to close your thighs.

“behave baby” he says, voice sounding slightly hoarse

he kisses your clothed pussy before pressing his tongue flat against you. the feeling of the ball presses against your clit and you moan, grabbing his hair with one hand as the other travels up to grab your breasts.

“you’re so fucking wet” he moans, pushing your panties to the side as he sucks his fingers. “all for me?”

“yeah” you nod your head, grip in his hair tightening as he slips his middle finger into you. you’re tight and he feels his dick throbbing in his slacks. he was going to ruin you.

“fuck” he groans before going back in to eat your pussy. he sucks on your clit and adds a second finger. he scissors you open as he makes sure to teases your clit with his piercing.

the feeling is so foreign but so good. your sweet moans fill his office and he hopes everyone in the next room can hear just how good he’s making you feel.

you were his now.

his tongue joins the two fingers inside you and you arch your back, struggling to keep your eyes open but you want to see him so you look down.

he’s watching you intently, eyes narrowed into slits and it makes you squirm. he’s smirking against your pussy, fingers deeper than you could ever hope to achieve on your own.

“that’s it baby, ride my fucking face” he slaps your clit which causes you to scream. you grip his hair and move your hips against his face. it’s so messy and sloppy but it’s turning you on and you’re so close.

“fuck” you cry out, tossing your head back when you feel your orgasm approaching “i’m close”

“let go” he says, “cum on my face”

your legs shake from the intensity of your orgasm. you can barely catch you breath and he’s helping you ride it out. you’ve never felt this good just from being eaten out or fingered.

“you’re so fucking sexy” he groans, standing to remove his shirt.

he gives you some time to calm down. he was far from done with you and after tonight, you were his girl.

[yanderederee]

MurderMystery

「探偵 場地！」

April29th, 2004

a/n: I felt inspired to rewrite this in a fun drabble idea♡ I was sad the opportunity was only given a five page spread, so I took matters into tutor!reader’s hands:)

shoutout to @tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang for kindly helping me locating the bonus chapter link, so I may refresh myself on all the specifics regarding the deduction quiz (spoiler; the only clue pointed out is the ‘murder tool’/pill bottle.)

before! › here! › after!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

*i am not a medical professional; all drug/medications/ailments are either made up or should not be looked into as truth!

To say the least , you were ecstatic when Ryusei recruited you for this role.

Based on how Chifuyu and he had explained it to you, Baji was actually excited to try solving a detective case of his own.

They had even already dragged the ever so willing Mitarai into this plan as well.

You and Mitarai were friends. The both of you were very good in academics, and keeping patience with the overzealous boys in front of you.

The two of you huddled together that same day, whispering to eachother different plans and hints to lay around as clues.

“So, who is the killer?” You asked the genuine poindexter.

You could tell he was flustered by your closeness. You didn’t mind though, nerds were cute.

Mitarai looked over your compiled notes in critical fashion. Collaborating back and forth on the matter, you truly felt like the case would be a hit.

After about a half hour of planning, giggling, and whispering to one another, you could feel a heavy presence looked over your back. Automatically breaking out into a smile, you threw your hands across the desk to hide all evidence.

“What’re you doing?” Baji asked, flat. It was a simple question, yet the dark glint of jealousy glared obvious.

You could tell Baji was addressing how close you had been getting to Mitarai, but you thought jealous boys were cuter; better to play coy.

“Creating an awesome case,” you admitted, pulling all the papers that littered your desk into one big pile, to which you organized out of his view. “I’m actually really excited to come up with this!”

Mitarai made an attempt in hopping into the conversation. “Y/n is quite good at this! She had written a sequence of events in only a matter of seconds. Though, I admit her knowledge in…. ‘forensics’ is a little unnerving.” he murmured.

You shrugged with pride, putting the papers into a manila folder, and into your bag.

“I’ll have the materials for the operation by tomorrow. I’m gonna go consult with the victim of this case~”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

You bend down, checking for any sign of life. Your blood ran cold. “Detective, he…. He’s dead.” You announce to the room. Baji bends down, patting your arm so to dismiss you from the corpse. “This bottle looks suspicious…” he murmured seriously.

Chifuyu grinned wide at you and Mitarashi, giving a subtle thumbs up. You chose to remain in character, following the scripted dialogue you wrote and handed out yesterday (that everyone barely mesmerized in time).

Normally, Baji would love to solve this kind of thing on his own. But you knew better than anyone, that without direction, Baji would soon become irritable and fume with frustration. He just needed to notice the clues, without telling him he found a clue. Make it seem like he figured it out himself.

“Here is Sora Ijuuin’s file,” you handed Baji a small packet of paper, containing a profile shot of Chuu, some blurbs of false medical history, and reposts given by neighbors on the events leading up to the victim’s demise. “Please look over it carefully..”

“Thank you assistant.” He acknowledged shortly. Looking over the file, it took him a few minutes, but eventually he stood in haste.

Ijuuin Sora, date of birth: 03/07/1980, blood type: B, marital status: married.

- Statement given by Neighbor [1]: “That voice of his [Sora Ijuuin] sure does carry! Just three days ago, I could hear him fighting with someone clear down the street!”

- Statement given by Neighbor [3]: “Well , there has been a suspicious looking fellow visiting that house for the past month. He visits perhaps once a week. White hair, and dark skin. Suspicious!”

“Seems Chu had a few visitors before he bit it.” Baji said suspiciously. “Satou Ryusei, what business did you have with the victim three days ago?”

Baji thought he looked so cool, keeping his glare focused on the taller boy in the room.

Excellent. First step, make Baji suspect and snuff out all clues from innocent yet suspicious figures in the room.

Ryusei played it cool, a poker face striping him of all laughing matters. “Sora and I were colleagues. We had been collaborating on a project for about a month now. I came by to discuss these matters three days ago.”

“Sound reason. You say you were simply discussing, but neighbor complains state they heard loud arguing. You two must have had a disagreement.”

Baji’s cool demeanor slowly began showing more confidence as he made his case.

“We’re both particularly passionate fellows,” Ryusei suppressed a giggle. He may have thought your script was a little over the top. “We disagreed often. But our altercations were never very loud. We always came to sound conclusions.”

“And was that conclusion murder?” Baji asked accusatively.

“I would never!”

Baji hummed. Blaming Ryusei seemed too easy. And if he learned anything from his detective shows, never go with your first guess. So, eyeing the file again he read;

- Statement given by Neighbor [3]: “…his [Sora Ijuuin] wife and I only spoke on occasion. She told me they had been dating since high school. They had gotten together thanks to a mutual friend. […] Arguments with his wife have been consistent over the years, but for the last 6 months, they have been non-stop! They become progressively louder as days pass.”

- Statement given by Acquaintance [1]: “Sora? Yeah, he and some four eyes were friends back in high school. Though, he always seemed to have a thing for his girlfriend at the time. Guess they’re still friends, saw them hanging out recently. I heard four eyes became a doctor. Good for him.”

- Statement given by Neighbor [2]: “I’ve heard rumors about resident of that house becoming recently ill! A friend of his, I presume, has been visiting often to oversee his health. I hope he’s well?”

Based on this statement repost, Baji soon began concluding that it was perhaps Chu’s “wife” may be the murderer. However, reading further, he realized this to be impossible.

- […] After a particularly heated argument, {assumedly being the disagreement of Three Days ago}, eye witness repost conclude Wife had gone to stay with her mother three days ago.

Chifuyu caught your waiting gaze, and understood the subtle nod in his direction. Playing into the role, Chifuyu settled closer to the crime scene, eying the pill bottle.

“Cause of death, overdose? But with what? … Medication? Was Mr Sora ill?”

“My colleague often complained about suffering from unexplained migraines and severe nose bleeds. I recall him mentioning these symptoms began about three months ago.”

“He met quite frequently with his at home physician to determine a diagnosis.”

“Were the physician and victim on good terms?”

“Yes. In fact, neighbor reposts state they originally thought him an old familiar friend of the victim, with how often and friendly their visits.”

“Ah! Ijuuin and I have been friends for some years now, even before he requested I oversee his declining health.” Mitarai spoke up confidently.

A shock to everyone in the room, everyone stood silent. Baji’s judgemental gaze looked over the self proclaimed physician up and down, thinking of anyway to blame him.

Dense as he was, he nodded. “A nobel friend always sticks by his friend’s side. My condolences, doctor.” Baji turned, thinking to other matters at hand.

No!! Everyone internally yelled.

Mitarashi was practically trying to be blamed, at this point!! But Baji wasn’t taking the bait.

No matter, you sighed silently, planning your second hint.

“Looks like the only evidence useful to us is this pill bottle.” Baji interjected.

You handed Baji a plastic glove, insisting he wear it before touching any evidence. After doing so, he observed the bottle.

It was medicine, plain and simple. Without even so much as a label on the bottle, it was impossible to identify further than that.

“Detective,” Chifuyu whispered to Baji, just as you described he should do in the script. “I recognize the look of this pill. Its purpose is to increase blood flow, mostly aimed for anemic patients. It doesn’t match the name of the medicine typed on the pill bottle.”

Unfortunately, Baji had no idea what the fuck ‘an anemia’ even was.

“Doctor, if you could please elaborate, what diagnosis came of your time spent together?” You asked Mitarashi. He nodded in response.

“Ijuuin described having severe nosebleeds, following his migraines. I concluded he suffered textbook side effects of overexertion.”

A medication meant to increase blood flow for a patient with frequent nose bleeds? Baji finally started putting the clues together.

“Were you the one to prescribe this medicine, doctor?” Baji asked Mitarai.

Aha!!

Mitarashi purposely showed signs of nervousness. “Y-yes! That medicine is one that regulates migraines. I-it even says it on the bottle!”

Baji smirked, dropping the bottle into a plastic, held open by Chifuyu. “We’ll see what the forensic’s team has to say about that.”

Mitarai became anxious at the mention, but chose to keep quiet. Baji hadn’t earned a confession out of him yet.

Baji really had to think now. He had evidence, but no motive. What motive would a physician have to kill his own patient? One he seemed fond of, even.

The room grew quiet, and frustration was eating up Baji’s neck. How could he get the guy to confess?

And unfortunately for Mitarashi, when Detective Baji began to feel frustrated, he had a hard time putting a cap on his emotions. In fact, he physically couldn’t.

So of course, he resorted to intimidation.

“Speakin’ of forensics, back there, I noticed there’s a pill that’s been crushed up. Almost like it was stepped on. Saaay, doc, how bout I see the underside of those shoes, huh?” Baji grinned ear to ear, eyes creasing in one-sided victory.

Mitarai gasped, red faced and shaking. It was hard to tell if it was because he was in character, or genuinely scared of Baji’s terrifying aura.

“P-please sir! Spare me!” He yelled, backing up against the door quickly, showing the underside of only one of his shoes. “There’s nothing! See! Nothing!”

Baji shook his head, and in one quick motion, bent Mitarai’s standing knee. Unable to balance himself in time, the four-eyes fell to the floor with a scream. “Well what’da ya know? What’s this blue powder here? Think we’re gonna need to send this over too, Detective Matsuno.” He chuckled.

Surely this was enough to earn his confession.

“F-fine! I swapped the medication! I’ve been giving him medicine to make him sicker and sicker f-for the last five months… but-but! … I had to!” Mitarai crocked, crocodile tears falling down his face.

Damn, Mitarai sure knew how to act!! Who would have guessed…

“Well, spit it out.” Baji hurried.

Mitarai took a few deep breaths, increasing the reveals dramatic timing. “He made Hanako cry… I’ve… loved Hanako ever since I met her, you see!” Mitarashi looked away bashfully.

“Who’s Hanako? From the Toilet?”

“That’s the name of the victims’s wife. It’s on file.”

“…oh…”

“You’ve been friends with Mr Sora since high school?” You asked the clarifying question, which finally clicked in Baji’s mind.

“Yes! She always had eyes for the obnoxious types though… so, I waited… And just as I suspected, he began to mistreat her, all over petty misunderstandings and other stupid, meaningless things! They were fighting so often, Hanako finally reached out to me to ask for advise….

“I told her to give it time. I just needed a little time… make him sick, until he died of natural causes! Than she’d finally be free! So you see, it was out of love! And it worked!” Mitarai laughed, still hysterically crying. “He’s gone now, Hanako. She can be happy now, right detective?”

Baji’s face was cold at Mitarashi’s performance.

“That’s why?” He asked. “All over a girl? Seriously?” He clicked his tongue.

You frowned at his disgust.

“What a lame reason. Whatever, we got what we came here for. Matsuno, cuff this freak.”

And just as quickly, Baji’s victory became evident with such a wide grin. “Haha! I’m a genius! Bet ya didn’t think I’d notice that stepped on pill over there did ya?” He said in your face.

You laughed in unison, and rose your hand up to give him a big high five. “I’ll admit, I was wondering how long it would take you to notice, but I had faith in you, Detective!~”

The lot of you all cheered for Baji, making his ego soar all the more. But just as you thought to stop, that adorable toothy grin of his made you swoon all over again.

While he and Chu were laughing together, Ryusei took notice of your adoring stare, and melancholy smile. “You like him, don’t you?” He asked so very quietly. As much as you could act embarrassed and deny him, you knew it would be in vain. Ryusei knew. Your smile became more flatlined.

“I do… it’s one-sided, I know… but I’m happy where I am, for now.”

Ryusei watched as you tore your gaze away, distracting yourself with cleaning up the rest of the murder scene. Out of earshot, Ryusei chuckled. “One sided, huh… Can’t say I’m so sure of that.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

Finally, after it was all said and done, the lot of you found yourselves shoved close into a booth at a local family diner. It was cheap and close by, but deserving enough for Detective Baji’s victory on his latest case.

“Still! That cheesy alibi was so over the top. Seriously, which one of you even came up with that crap?” Baji mulled over his drink, glaring at how closely sat you and Mitarai were sitting. You rolled your eyes. “Yeah yeah, just let it go already.”

“Mitarashi! Your acting was so good back there though, I almost thought you were really crying!” Chifuyu praised the four eyes beside him. “Thank you! I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off at first.”

Still dressed in the costumes stolenborrowed from the Drama Club, you all looked quite dashing and out of place in this family diner. But not a one of you seemed to care. Everyone was in high spirits.

Baji would occasionally bring up how ‘killing someone for a girl you like is so lame.’ And sure, he was right. It just made you all the more embarrassed that you were the one to come up with the dramatic idea. But that was the idea! Detective shows were dramas!

As everyone threw in their last praises and thoughts on the case, the natural urge to pee made itself known to you. Quickly excusing yourself, you shimmied yourself out from the booth. It hadn’t even been a few minutes before you were relieved and headed back for the table.

On your way to do so, some high school delinquent who clearly wasn’t paying attention to how much of the narrow walkway he was taking up, ended up smacking right dab into your shoulder. It wasn’t enough to make you fall backwards, but enough to lose your balance. What an asshole!

Yet, when you glared up for your rightfully owed apology, the high schooler kept walking. Baffled, you pursed your lips into a thin line. It probably wouldn’t do you any good to go after him. But that was way too rude!

Unbeknownst to you, the whole scene became a spectacle for your delinquent friend group. And they were Not having it. Most of all, Baji Keisuke. He practically hopped over the table to get out from the booth quicker— rather than waiting for whoever was on the outside to make way.

“Oi, asshole.” Baji seethed through his teeth. It was quiet, enough to not draw attention from everyone in the restaurant, at least. “Apologize, or we’re takin’ this outside.” He’d since grabbed the collar of the offending jerk.

The high schooler chuckled, not taking Baji all that seriously. “Yeah right, get lost pipsqueak.” He went to push Baji, who was a solid few inches shorter than him. Unfortunately, Baji took this personally.

Baji laughed at the audacity of this jerk, grabbing his arm hard, and twisting it behind his back. He wasn’t trying to cause a scene, but there he was, causing a scene.

You aught to stop him, but nothing you’d say would do you any good. “Stay here, this won’t take more than five minutes.” Baji had told you.

It didn’t take long for Baji to walk the punk outside of the family diner, around the front and into a less populated street.

Ryusei gave a shrug, and offered you a seat. “Leave him be, that’s just how he is.”

Chifuyu was tempted to follow his squad leader, but decided against it after seeing how anxious the whole situation was making you. “Maybe we should leave…” you mumbled. “No way, we just ordered while you were gone!” Ryusei patted your shoulder. Mitarashi was also a little unsettled, but tried not to show it.

“If anything, you should be glad Keisuke’s actually showing this much restraint. Normally. He’d have pummeled the poor guy in front of everyone and got us kicked out.” Ryusei sighed, as though that same scenario had just happened recently.

Just as Baji promised, he was back at the table in less than 5 minutes. “‘I miss anything?” He asked, a proud wide toothy smirk painting his features.

That proud look really suited him. Stop, why were you thinking about how cute he was at a time like this? Did you seriously find delinquency that attractive? Your heart felt like it’d beat out of your chest.

“Still think it’s one-sided?~” Ryusei whispered in your ear with a shit eating grin.

Your face went beat red.

“Hey, what’d I say about personal space asshole?” Baji cursed at his friend before pushing him hard.

“Sorry sorry~”

…♡

[klausinamarink]

One Kid Gone, Another Up and Vanished (part 8)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 | next: Part 9 | ao3

The meeting we’ve all been waiting for… (also wow it’s already October what the hell. Plus it’s whumptober so this feels very fitting ^^ also sorry for the slower updates, I’ve started work again and it’s hectic to even get the writing energy after shifts, especially when I’m also doing a couple fan events)

Will carefully moves his hand around the drawer, brushing against the items inside and feeling their shapes for something familiar. When he finds it, he takes his hand out all the more slowly as not to brush his elbow against the vines that are keeping the drawer half open.

In his hand is a Zippo lighter. This one is bigger than his palm with a dragon engraving. The sight of it makes Will’s heart skip a beat. This one. This should work too.

He slips it into the pocket of his vest. It clinks against the other Zippos he had collected. On his way out of the trailer home, Will hops over the thickest vines on the ground as the residents chatter.

“Don’t forget about the fish.”

“I won’t, Bella. Are you stopping by the Byers kid’s funeral today?”

“What?” Will asks aloud, stopping in his tracks.

“Maybe, but I’m not sure I can attend the wake after.”

“Why? You and Joyce have a feud I don’t know about?”

“None of your business, Cody. I just don’t feel comfy about apologizing for nothing to a woman grieving her dead son.”

Will stays a moment longer but the couple’s conversation is already over, heavy footsteps echoing across the floor and to the gravel outside. He follows, but not before waving a hand on the light-switch, watching the lights in the living room burst into glittering orange in quick succession.

“Goddamn electric bill…”

He takes that cue to leave.

It’s a stomach-turning daze on the walk back to Eddie’s trailer. The couple had just mentioned a funeral. His funeral. But that can’t be right! Funerals happen when someone dies and their body has to be buried. And Will’s still very alive right now and his mom knows that!

And if Mom knows he’s alive, then she must’ve told Jonathan and the Party. And if they all know, then the school and rest of Hawkins wouldn’t make up a funeral for him.

Right?

He swallows down the urge to vomit. It’s suddenly harder to breathe. Will thinks it’s another coughing bout but nothing happens. It just feels like his chest is being squeezed.

He hurries faster. He doesn’t want to leave Eddie alone for too long.

Once he’s back in the trailer, he tiptoes his way into Eddie’s bedroom. He hasn’t been there before in the first visit, but it’s so full of posters, books, cassette tapes, and a red oddly-shaped guitar hanging on a wall. When he had first stepped in here, Will understood why Eddie didn’t want anybody to know he listens to David Bowie because there’s not a single poster of Bowie or The Clash anywhere. Only scary looking metal bands with similar clothes as Eddie.

Eddie’s still laying on bed, his back to the door. The same position he’s been in when Will had left.

Will slowly comes up to him and gently pats on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything because touching is enough confirmation to say I’m back.

It’s like when Dad yells at Jonathan and his brother would be completely mute for the rest of the day or even the next day, not liking it when Will tries to talk to him.

“It’s not because I don’t like you trying to make me feel better. I just hate hearing someone talking to me when all I can still hear is Dad.” Jonathan had explained to him gently. Will had understood and hugged him, promising not to talk on Jonathan’s bad days.

Seeing Eddie becoming blank-eyed and not talking after weeping for what felt like hours had brought Will back to his brother’s bad days. So when Eddie couldn’t get up at first, Will made him get up and took him back inside where Eddie had let go of his hand and disappeared into his room.

It makes Will angry. Not at Eddie but at his uncle. Eddie had talked about his uncle Wayne like he was the best guy in the world and he left. He ran and never came back despite hearing Eddie on the phone.

When they get out of here, Will is going to punch Eddie’s uncle in the knees. Maybe. He had never hit anyone before.

Leaning against the bed, Will sits down on the floor and gets out the Zippo lighters he had collected. He has twelve in total so he organizes them in two rows of six. He picks the first one up and tries to catch a light.

It doesn’t work.

He puts it on the side and picks up the next one.

For about every two minutes, Will tries a lighter and sees if a flame can work. Sometimes it catches but only for a brief second. When a lighter does work, he flicks it off and on again to check if it’ll do it again, only for the spark to fail. This happens to Zippos number four, seven, and nine.

Even as the lighters dwindle with no success, Will keeps his hopes high. He has a crazy plan that he’s sure Eddie would love and he really wants it to work.

Number eleven is the one with the dragon design. He sucks in a quick breath and flicks it on.

The flame appears immediately before his eyes.

Will gasps, suddenly unable to flip the Zippo lid on. It looks much more brighter than the others, almost the same glow as the lights. Despite its small size, it illuminates the room, casting shadows as it flickers.

He takes another breath and closes the Zippo. He clamps it tight between both hands. Please come back.

As the Zippo flicks open, its flame returns.

Will can’t help but emit a happy shriek, “Eddie! It works, it works! The lighter works!”

He turns around, hoping to see Eddie sitting up wide eyed and shrieking back in excitement. But he still sees Eddie’s back.

The smile falls from Will’s face. He clicks the Zippo shut. Then he flips it open again, stretching his right hand out enough so it wouldn’t get burned. He looks at the now-orange wall as the shadow of his hand mimics a rabbit’s head.

“Look, Eddie the Elder Traveller.” Will whispers. He “hops” his hand, making it disappear and reappear on the silhouette of Eddie’s back. Then he moves his fingers so it would look like a fox. “The fox is about to get the rabbit.”

Eddie doesn’t move.

A sudden thought strikes upon Will: What if Eddie’s dead?

He lunges himself onto the mattress, barely careful to turn the lighter off. After an ‘whoompf’, he turns on his side to actually face Eddie. He flicks the lighter back on and sighs in relief when he sees Eddie’s pupils immediately dilating.

“See, Eddie? We have light. I can make a real fire to scare the monster off.” Will tells him in a hushed tone. Watches for any more movement or reactions.

Nothing. Even his breathing is too small to notice.

Will closes the Zippo, shivering when the tiny warmth disappears. It’s getting colder the longer they’re here.

Eddie finally moves.

Will almost says something, but Eddie’s face is unchanging even as his arm wraps around Will and pulls him close to his chest, Will’s head tucking under his chin.

This close, Will can feel Eddie’s heartbeat - slow and almost not there..

He gulps, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. He lets himself stay in the hug before he taps Eddie’s arm. He whispers, “I have to get up.”

There’s a small tremor across Eddie’s body. Will feels him slowly shaking his head and tightening his arm.

“I promise to come back. It’ll only be a few minutes.”

Eddie shakes his head again but stops. Then he makes a tiny whistling sound like a sigh before his arm loosens. Will slowly shuffles away, watching Eddie’s face as he gets off.

The only change of expression is the glossy look in his eyes.

Will squeezes Eddie’s hand one, two, three, four times. He forces himself to look away and walks out of the room.

On the kitchen counter, the pile of dirty towels and broken wood pieces remain besides a tall bottle of cooking oil as he had left them. Will takes a deep breath and gets to work.

—

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Wayne’s courage to come back at his front door. Every attempt to turn the damn doorknob gives him the goosebumps and shivers down his spine. He’s fairly certain his trailer is haunted and the ghost in there doesn’t want him in.

But Wayne has to go back inside. He needs to collect his suit for Will’s Byers funeral later in the morning. It’s a public invite and Wayne wants to give his respects for Joyce Byers.

He cycles through deep slow breathes before he finally twists the doorknob all the way and steps in.

He expects the living room to be a mess, if the ghost is a poltergeist type. But it’s the same as last night. Not even his mugs are misplaced. Though he can practically taste the new weight of the atmosphere.

He hurries over to the hallway closet, which is a corner away from Eddie’s room. There, the weight presses down, slipping into his throat as if he’s choked with the depression. The same feeling he gets whenever Eddie has an awful day and wants to be out of Wayne’s sight.

Wayne’s hands are carefully still as he finds the black suit at the very end. It’s a little wrinkled but he doesn’t want to stay longer to iron it.

As he changes in the living room, the light in the kitchen flickers.

He freezes. Watches the light flicker slowly and than rapidly.

He finishes in record time and gets the hell out before the ghost gets another idea.

—

Will listens to the rumbling echoes of the truck driving away. He kicks at the front door again, imagining it to be Eddie’s uncle’s knees.

It’s really frustrating to get someone who isn’t Mom to do more than notice their lights going crazy and ignore it.

Will closes his eyes, takes more deep breaths, and tries not to get mad. Once he’s feeling more calm, he goes back to packing the new torches. He’s made about five, which is enough to fit the small satchel he found in. It’ll be heavier to carry, but he can do it.

He’s both excited and cautious about using fireballs in real life. He knows it’s going to be different than playing in D&D, but Will the Wise always uses fireball as the first and last chance to finish the fight.

Will the Wise had missed. Will Byers will not.

As he returns back to Eddie’s room, the older boy is still lying in the same position. Will wonders if Eddie had even heard his uncle come in and out.

His eyes fall on the box of tapes, somehow untouched by the vines. Then he looks over to Eddie’s desk where a Walkman lies with dust.

An idea pops up.

He makes a quick move to the tapes. He’s almost overwhelmed by the sheer number of them (Eddie probably has more than Jonathan!) but he lets himself pick one by random. It’s too dark to read the band name but it has three angels sitting and smoking.

He grabs the Walkman next. He pops the tape inside and presses play. It immediately starts to life, a song playing loud through the headphones.

Will pads over to Eddie, contemplating if he should slip the headphones on. He places them in front of Eddie where he could see it, exclaiming, “Walkman still works!”

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to sit up. Slowly and robotically, Eddie picks up his Walkman and slips on the headphones. His gaze remains dull and downcast. Will tries hard not to notice the tear tracks cleaning his dirty face.

He steps closer and gently takes Eddie’s hand, limp across the lap. “We should go back to my place.” Will’s not sure if Eddie can even hear him, through the music or not. But Eddie gives a small nod anyway, although he doesn’t stand up until Will tugs him to move.

Will squeezes Eddie’s hand three times as he leads them outside. The demogorgon isn’t here so there’s a bit more luck on their side. Maybe it’s finally leaving them alone?

He says this aloud to Eddie, but Eddie doesn’t respond or squeeze his hand back. Only shuffles along with a blank stare.

Will keeps a tighter grip on their hands and spears. It all feels too heavy.

—

The funeral goes as expected for a young boy: quiet, heavy-hearted, and carefully neutral expressions. No one wants to be the first to burst into loud tears, not even the Byers.

Wayne looks over at the family during the priest’s readings. Lonnie is carefully sober. Jonathan seems seconds away to crying. Joyce appears almost scowling, no doubt angry at the world for taking her son.

He also notes the three younger boys attending, possibly Will’s best friends. They all look carefully inattentive at the small coffin.

After the initial burial, most of everyone goes to the funeral home for the usual refreshments and murmurs. Wayne didn’t plan to go, not wanting another target of pity on his back. But something on his gut tells him to go there and he’s obedient to himself so he follows the crowd.

He keeps his head down, which does enough of avoiding attention. But the funeral home feels too small and tight. He goes outside to one of the porches.

Joyce is also there, sitting one of the cricketing wooden chairs. She gives out a heavy sigh, “Jonathan, tell your father I’m-”

She stops herself when she looks up and sees Wayne. She looks almost frazzled for a second before her shoulders drop slightly, then they hunch up again. “Oh, sorry.”

Wayne manages to bite the “I’m sorry for your loss” from the tip of his tongue. Instead, he takes out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and offers it to Joyce.

She blinks before she takes one. Then she hesitates and takes two more. Wayne gives no comment to that. Only asks, “You want a light?”

Joyce shakes her head, taking out a lighter from where she stuffs in the two extra cigarettes. “Thanks for the cigarette though.”

“Not a problem.”

They smoke in silence for a while. Wayne peeks over at Joyce, feeling his eyebrows rise to his scalp when he sees her cigarette is halfway done. But he doesn’t say anything about it. Anyone’s smoking habits is their business, not his.

When Joyce finally speaks, it sounds careful, “I noticed another missing poster on the way here.”

Wayne grunts, “Who’s?”

“Yours.”

He stops. He doesn’t look at Joyce. He doesn’t want to see the same goddamn face on her too. Instead, he gives the smallest of nods as he stares out. “He might’ve just ran away to a concert. I’m probably overacting.”

A pause.

Then Joyce says, quiet and hoarse with an undying conviction, “My son is not dead.”

Wayne merely hums. Takes another drag instead of replying back to her.

“Think of me as crazy like everyone else, but that’s not my Will we’ve buried. He’s still alive, I know it.”

Wayne looks at her. She’s staring at the ground as if she wants to burn the grass in front of her. There’s a trembling anger around her outline that threatens to break out and scorch the woods. He gets the feeling this isn’t something Joyce had built up to after her son’s disappearance, but much earlier in her life that she hid well until now.

Her words come over him then and he feels a tug of, well, maybe not sympathy. More akin to understanding. The vague sense of knowing your child is still alive without a doubt and yet everyone already thinks otherwise.

It feels like a curse. That maybe he and Joyce had accidentally walked through some wrong area of land as kids long ago and nature covered their tracks by taking away their boys.

“I get it.” Wayne mumbles around his cigarette. “I know my nephew is out there somewhere but I just don’t know where.”

Joyce hums in acknowledgment. “Maybe they’ve found each other and are coming home as we speak.”

“Careful, wishful thinking is a bad habit.” Wayne jokes lightly. He feels relieved when Joyce snorts and shakes her head. He sighs and looks off to the direction of the cemetery.

“I’ve actually had a call from Eddie last night.” There’s a surprised noise from Joyce. “Yeah. Couldn’t believe it either. But it was so short with lots of static and actually killed my landline. But it was him. And he was calling for me. I just wish I could’ve known immediately where he was so I could drive there as fast as I could to my boy.”

Silence answers him. He worries the pad of his thumb along his jaw. His cigarette is still burning but he lets it drop to the ground, feeling unable to smoke anymore. He stares at the dying embers as if they would tell him off for oversharing like that.

“Did your lights flicker?”

Wayne blinks and looks over. Joyce’s sitting up straighter, traces of anger suddenly vanished and replaced by a wide-eyed expression he cannot place.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Your lights.” Joyce repeats. “Did they, uh, did you have some electrical problems after Eddie disappeared?”

Wayne stares.

Joyce shrinks down, putting out her cigarette. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question. I shouldn’t have asked-”

“No, no, it’s alright. Just why are you asking that?”

Joyce looks back at him with an almost helpless expression. Then she appears to steel herself with a sharp inhale, closes her eyes, and says “The night after Will went missing, I got a call. And I can recognize my baby’s breathing and voice. Even if the other line’s nothing but the static. And every day after that, the lights in my house flickered at random. It happened whenever I called for Will’s name.”

Wayne feels himself leaning forward towards her, his hand lightly grazing his beard. It sends him a little down to memory lane of being ten years old and listening to campfire stories. The ones that scare and intrigue him the most always make him lean forward, as if he can catch the next words from midair and keep them for himself like caterpillars in jars.

“I knew it was Will. It took me a couple of days to figure how to help him speak better through the lights. He told me he wasn’t safe or alone.”

Joyce opens her eyes and meets his. They look almost kindly like a summer’s rain. But Wayne knows how to see through and recognize an approaching tornado.

“Before Will said this, I asked him to spell his name. He did that and also spelled out ‘and Eddie.’”

Wayne catches the air escaping out of his mouth. He turns his head away, looking back down at his dead cigarette.

“I know it sounds like I’m making this up, but I’m not, Wayne.” Joyce continues, her voice firm with a hint of pleading. “If you choose to not believe me and see me as a psychotic bitch hurting your feelings, than that’s fine. All I’m just asking if your lights—”

“Last night.” His voice sounds too calm in Wayne’s ears even though his throat feels rough as sandpaper.

“Sorry?”

“My lights went crazy last night. Then again this morning.” He returns his gaze back to Joyce. Her mouth is open in an ‘o’ shape, almost like she’s in disbelief. She closes it, the unreadable expression returning.

She asks, “Do you… believe me?”

Wayne thinks back to the campfire stories. How the ones that shake his younger bones and skin are the ones with truth to them, no matter how small they were. And Joyce’s story sounds like the truth is too large to be chopped up.

“It feels a hell of a coincidence that our boys vanished almost a couple days of each other and then we get crazy by our house lights.” Wayne answers slowly.

Joyce almost shutters with a sigh of relief before she snaps her head up at him. “Can you take me to your place?”

Wayne blinks, taken aback by the little whiplash of her words. “What-”

“I want to check your lights. See if we can speak to our boys.” Joyce’s tone is no-nonsense. Her eyes are hard with determination. Her outline of fury is shimmering, no longer ready to burn the town down.

Wayne wonders if he’s looking at himself. That he has the same fury and determination that everyone had seen in him since Eddie never came home.

He nods at her. “I’ll drive you.”

—

Taglist: @unclewaynemunson @steves-strapcollection @hellion-child @sidekick-hero @mmmmwaffles94 @hbyrde36 @princessstevemunson @sirsnacksalot @tartarusknight @lyriclight @kodaik97 @plsdontdrinkmylavalamp @bookbinderbitch @gutterflower77 @soaringornithopter @angeldreamsoffanfic @panicatthediaz @renaissan-vvitch @manda-panda-monium @newtstabber @little-trash-ghost @niniel-karenine @tinyplanet95

[karatekels]

All’s Fair – Chapter 2

Thanks for your patience, everyone! We should be done this story in the next chapter, but I've added some sexy Terry here to tide you over!

Chapter 1

TW: Teasing, coercion, dubcon, groping, fingering, Terry Silver being manipulative and hot about it

Terry’s POV:

A fair? Terry thinks to himself, watching your incessant hopping next to him while standing in line for something called the Drop Tower. Your sweet little surprise was better suited to a toddler than to him. He supposes it’s fitting for you to choose something like this; everything about you oozed a sort of childlike innocence and sense of wonder.

He isn’t sure exactly what it is about you that initially drew his attention – he had been with people far more attractive, intelligent, and powerful than you. Dozens of them, in fact, though he had long stopped bothering to keep count.

He assumes that that’s part of your appeal.

You were so inexperienced, so innocent, that the thought of getting you close enough to let him take all of that from you and keep it for himself forever has him absolutely thrilled. Bagging you required the polar opposite of his typical, more… active pursuits of someone that he wanted to fuck; a test of his patience, his self-control, and his ability to pull you into his web until you were in so deep that you would never get away of your own volition.   

The loud hiss of the ride's hydraulics startles him out of his thoughts as the ride shoots another group of screaming people into the sky, making him tense up.

That was another issue altogether.

Terry had made a habit of avoiding crowds – apart from classier, quieter events – since returning from Vietnam. Being around this many people running and screaming, even if it was from happiness and excitement, has him on edge. Add that to the loud noises coming from the machines and the thought of being shot into the air, and he is already starting to fall into the dark pit of PTSD.

He digs his nails into his palms and forces himself to take deep, steadying breaths, then turns to look at you. Sweet and innocent as you are, he finds that you help ground him in a way. Something like you could never be associated with the horrors of that godforsaken jungle.

The way you act as a repellant to his dark memories and hallucinations makes him want to swallow you whole, to keep you inside of him so that he never has to worry about them rearing their ugly heads again.

Almost as if you had heard his thoughts, you turn and look up at him, flashing a dazzling smile that has something inside him purring with satisfaction. You are positively smitten with him; it’s written all over your beautiful face. You had remembered your little discussion about a funfair from months ago and decided to give him a taste of the childhood he’d never had. So sweet, so giving… and he’s so, so ready to take.

He had slowly been working you through your anxieties and nerves about being intimate, as Margaret would call it. Terry knows that your defences are crumbling, and he thinks it’s high time he pushed past them. He didn’t have a decade to let you gradually get to the point where he could bend you over wherever and whenever he wished; he isn’t a patient man, and he’s been pushed to his limits by you.

If he just took you, skipping all of the steps in between, you might be hurt, sure, but it would speed up the process greatly. Then you could both go back a few steps and he could teach you to enjoy the experience.

And enjoy it you would.

“We’re next, we’re next!” you chirp happily, and he turns to watch the ride come down and free its occupants. He looks at the lap bar and over-the-shoulder restraints with skepticism.

“Babes, I don’t think they’re gonna let me ride this with you,” he says in a low voice, keeping the optimism he feels out of his tone.

“Why not?” you ask with a frown, your forehead creasing.

“I think I’m too big,” he replies, a tad smug.

Sure enough, as he goes to take the seat on the ride next to you, the restraint that pulls over his head cannot accommodate his broad shoulders. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, he slips off the ride. You make to join him, but he puts a firm hand on the lap bar, keeping you in place.

“You should still go on the ride, doll. I’ll be waiting right here.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, kicking your feet where they hang down beneath you. “I don’t mind skipping this one.”

“Nah, are you kidding? Watching you having fun’ll be a blast! And I get to keep my feet on the ground,” he jokes.

“Scared of heights, Mr. Silver?” you tease, giggling at your little joke. He forces himself to chuckle in return. You’ll pay for that insinuation.

“We’ll see who has the last laugh when you’re done screaming your little head off.” Soon enough, he’ll have you screaming more than any damned carnival ride…

He removes himself from the proximity of the ride, moving to stand on the other side of the fence, still right across from you. He stares directly into your eyes and raises a challenging eyebrow at you. You blush, and he drinks in the sight greedily. You have a determined look on your face, but he sees the look of shock spread across it the instant you start to shoot into the air. He observes your ascent with a small, amused smile, hearing your exhilarated shrieks as they rise through the sky with you.

The ride sends you up and down repeatedly, and Terry watches not only your hair rise and fall around your head at the motion, but your skirt moving in a similar way, baring more and more of your legs to your audience below.

You’re a fucking tease, and you probably don’t even know the meaning of the word.

There’s a sudden low, appreciative whistle from off to his left, and his eyes flit to another man enjoying the view.

“Damn, she’s got legs for days!” the man leers with a laugh, and Terry immediately sees red, still on edge from all of the triggers this place was teeming with. He’s grabbed the man by the collar before he even seems to realize it, and pulls him close.

“If you want to keep your eyes in your skull, walk away,” he growls, and the guy turns white as a sheet as he takes in Terry’s infuriated expression. He throws his hands up in immediate surrender – Terry scoffs immediately at the man’s weakness; this punk really thought he was worthy of even looking at you? – and Terry roughly pushes the man in the chest, releasing his grip on his shirt and watching as the man slinks off before he turns his attention back to you, where it belonged.

The ride is coming to an end, slowly lowering you back to the ground. Your cheeks are flushed, your hair is a wild mess about your head, and your eyes are bright in your excitement.

He feels his cock twitch against his thigh, and feels a pang of jealousy. He should be the reason you look like this, not some cheap thrill ride.

Your safety restraints are removed and you come skipping over to him, giggling breathlessly and tossing yourself into his arms, burying your face in his shirt. Well, if these silly rides had you acting like this – throwing yourself at him, that is – the perhaps humoring your little idea of a date night would be worth the trouble after all.

“See? It wasn’t scary at all!” you inform him proudly, beaming up at him.

“Really? You could have fooled me, with all the screaming you were doing,” he retorts with a smirk, taking your face in one hand and relishing in how your blush deepens for him. With his free hand he smooths your hair back into place, trying to tame your wild curls. He finds he’s taking a surprising amount of pleasure in treating you like his little doll, and from the way that he can feel your pulse speed up through his grip on your lower jaw, you clearly like it too.

“Thank you,” you coo sweetly up at him, standing up on your toes to kiss him.

He purrs into your mouth, pulling you flush against him – best start pushing for more now. He keeps his lips on yours for a moment more once you start trying to squirm out of his grip; you need to remember who is in charge here. Eventually, he relents, satisfied by the dazed look in your eyes.

“So what’s next, babygirl?” he croons, pressing you to speak more – your voice took on a delicious, husky quality when you were turned on.

“The… log ride?” you say hesitantly, as though unsure of what to do with yourself in your dazed state. “The log ride!” you repeat with more conviction, once you gain a bit of your composure back.

Christ, he thinks to himself as you tug him through the throng of people. Claiming your virginity had better be worth all of this.

He’ll make sure it is.

---

While he found what was supposedly the appeal of the log ride disgusting – being splashed with treated, reused, communal water – the ride did have some benefits. You being seated between his legs had been a big one. He had snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his crotch, and used you to shield him from most of the water. You had shrieked with laughter, slapping the tops of his thighs with playful indignation, and he was able to enjoy how good you looked wet, your dress plastered to your body and emphasizing your curves.

He had been appreciating it, that is, until he once again caught more pairs of eyes on you than just his own. He had immediately taken off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders to conceal your body. You were clearly charmed by his chivalry, attributing the gesture to him being worried you were cold. The action also had the added benefit of revealing his arms and chest, now prominently visible in just his white T-shirt, and it resulted in other men immediately becoming wary of letting their eyes roam over you. A real win-win, in his opinion.

You had dragged him to the teacups next, and he had taken great joy in spinning the disc in the middle of your seats as firmly and quickly as possible while you begged him to stop. He had never been one to get dizzy, gleefully feeling the inertia of the ride sliding you around the seats next to him, pushing you further and further into his side until he swears your body will just absorb into his own, letting him own you fully and completely, as he should.

You are now incredibly woozy after the ride has ended, clinging to him for dear life as you stumble along beside him, and a shiver of desire moves through him as he controls you like a marionette. You’re drier after the ride, but he insists you continue wearing his jacket anyway; he doesn’t need any further exacerbations to his temper. He leaves you on a bench, keeping one eye on you the entire time as he moves to a booth selling food, buying something to settle your stomach.

Taking a seat on the bench next to you, he watches your lips close around the straw of your gingerale, sipping it gratefully. You then immediately tear into the bag of cinnamon-sugar mini-donuts that he had seen you eyeing every time you passed them since you had arrived. They are far too sweet for him, but hearing the soft moan escape your lips at your first taste has him all but demanding a taste of his own.

He leans in to kiss you, and you giggle against his lips before he takes it a step further, tracing your lips with the tip of his tongue to lick the crumbs from your flesh. You let out a whimper and he seizes the opportunity, slipping his tongue into your mouth, one arm wrapped tight around you and keeping you flush against his chest with your hands trapped between you, his other hand in your hair, holding your head in place. He can feel you trying to push against him, but he only squeezes you tighter until you relax in his grip, timidly kissing him back. Good girl.

Not wanting to make a scene (for the sake of his own reputation), he releases you for your good behaviour, and it takes you a minute to be able to bring yourself to speak.

“Terry!” you hiss at him, scandalized, but you can’t keep the sheepish smile off of your face. “We’re in public!”

He sprawls out across the bench, looking unrepentant. “Why do you think I stopped?” he asks teasingly, and you playfully shove his arm. “Why don’t we go in there next?” he asks, pointing behind you two to a small, windowless building advertising itself as the Hall of Mirrors. He doesn’t know what exactly that entails, but it looks like it would have you two away from prying eyes, so it’s worth checking out in his opinion. He wants to see what else he can pull from you willingly today, before he needs to push for it.

“Wanting to go check yourself out?” you tease with a smile, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. “Not that I’d blame you,” you add quietly, a slight blush spreading across your cheeks.

He could listen to you compliment him all day, but instead he takes your hand in his, interlacing your fingers together before guiding you to the attraction’s doorway. You walk in before him, and he smoothly hands the man staffing the building a wad of bills, demanding that he keep anyone else from entering for twenty minutes, not bothering to wait for a response. Money talked; people didn’t need to.

He follows you into the dark room, finding that the interior lives up to the name; it’s literally just a labyrinth of floor to ceiling mirrors with pale white lighting illuminating the space from above. From the way the two of you are standing, you appear surrounded by copies of him. He feels it’s an appropriate metaphor for your reality.

He approaches you slowly from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him firmly. Placing his head on your shoulder, he gazes into your reflection’s eyes, watching the blush spread across your cheeks just from his stare. Maybe he should have more mirrors installed in one of the bedrooms at home; dozens of possibilities for their use are popping into his head. He breathes deeply, not wanting you to feel him getting hard.

“Don’t we make a cute couple?” he purrs in your ear, making you giggle breathlessly. One hand slides up your body to your neck, gripping your chin in his large hand. “I have very good taste,” he adds smugly, gently taking your ear between his lips and nibbling it gently. Your gasp echoes through the room, and you jump in surprise, though he feels a shiver go down your spine.

See? You wanted this, you just needed a bit of a push; he is more than happy to provide it for you.

“Terry!” you whine, trying to squirm away, but he’s done letting you escape him.

“What?” he pouts, moving his lips down the side of your neck. “You didn’t want to let me play with you in public, so I brought us in here!”

“This – this is still public, T-Terry!” you insist, though you’re stammering as your body responds to his touch. He moves his hands up and down your sides teasingly, slipping them beneath his jacket to feel your warm skin through the thin material of your dress. “Someone could come by any minute!”

“Better give me what I want quickly then,” he quips, only half-joking. He backs you into a mirror, pinning you to it, and he can’t deny the thrill that moves through him as he watches your doppelgangers in the same position all around him.

“W-What do you want?” you ask shyly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Oh, the things he wants to do with you in a place like this…

Instead of any of the depraved acts that come to mind, he lifts your chin with a finger, gazing deeply into your eyes with his most piercing stare.

“I want you… to let me touch you,” he breathes, lowering his head so that his forehead touches yours, and you shudder.

“You are touching me, Terry,” you joke, but your breathless voice reveals just how nervous you are. He needs to be very, very careful here…

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he murmurs, coaxing compliance out of you. “I know I’m normally better at keeping my hands to myself, but you look so beautiful tonight, and you made me feel so special, bringing me here… I just want to make you feel good, baby. Please?” he begs, kissing you deeply before you can give him an answer.

He eventually lets you up for air, and as you don’t immediately protest, he tightens his grip on your waist before running his hands up your body, cupping your breasts over your clothes and playing with them gently, firmly brushing his thumb across where he knows your nipples to be. You let out a throaty moan that seems to take you by surprise, and buck your hips towards his involuntarily. Before you can get a word in, he has sealed his lips over yours again, swallowing any requests for him to stop before you can utter them.

He develops a rhythm, slowly feeling you up over your clothes and cooing his praises and words of encouragement into your ear, kissing you whenever he gets the sense that you’re going to try to put a stop to things until you’re compliant once more.

“I love feeling you like this, babygirl. You’ve been driving me crazy for so long,” he pants against your neck, his hands squeezing your butt firmly while you writhe against the mirror.

“Terry!” you cry out his name softly, with arousal rather than apprehension, and there’s never been a more beautiful sound. Eagerly, he moves his hands to the hem of your skirt, kissing you with everything in him to distract you from your thoughts as his fingers wander up your bare thighs. You’re being so deliciously submissive, letting him have his way with you, and he should tell you as much.

“Yes, Y/N,” he groans against your lips, dipping his head again and again to capture your mouth in kisses until you’re mirroring his movements back at him, bobbing your head to the rhythm he sets as though you're in a trance. “My good girl. I’m going to make you feel better than you ever have in your life; I’m going to give you everything,” he promises, ghosting his finger along the soft fabric of your underwear, and you seem to come back to yourself, your eyes flying open. You move to push him away, but he snatches your hands – gently, so as to avoid frightening you – and pins them over your head with one of his hands, his other returning under your skirt and worming its way through your clenched thighs.

“Terry, N –” you start to protest, but he interrupts you. An incomplete ‘No’ wasn’t a ‘No’ at all in his book.

“Ssshhh, babygirl, it’s okay,” he croons, kissing you once more into obedience. “You’re overwhelmed, I understand, but I know that you just need some help getting over your nerves. Trust me baby, you’ll love this,” he continues. He keeps his hand still, not removing it from between your thighs but not continuing to push his way up to his goal, and peppers your face with kisses and murmured words of encouragement until your thighs unclench around his hand.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he breathes approvingly, slipping his fingers further up your inner thigh. Your skin is so soft, and warm, and quivering beneath his fingertips, and he longs to bury his face between your legs. “Let me get you off; you deserve it,” urges, running a long finger across your slit over the material of your underwear. You are soaked, and keen loudly at the new sensations. He gently but firmly covers your mouth with his other hand, his eyes dark and glittering with amusement and arousal.

“Gotta be quiet, Y/N,” he teases, even as he starts rubbing your clit through your underwear, making you twitch and whimper against him. “You don’t want anyone to come and find you like this, do you?”

You shake your head vehemently, looking up at him with pleading eyes, and he can tell that you’re trying to stay still and quiet. Precious thing.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he purrs, his eyes bright as he watches your face, slipping a finger beneath your underwear and into your wet heat. You squeak, and your breathing comes hard and fast, though you try not to make a sound. He knows you won’t last long and sets to bring you to climax quickly, knowing that your remaining time having this place to yourself is coming to an end.

He pumps his finger inside you as deeply as he can in this position, not wanting to cause you discomfort; this first orgasm needs to be good if he wants to get you hooked on his touch. Curling the finger upwards to brush your G-spot, he rubs your clit over your underwear with his thumb, quickly bringing you to the peak of pleasure, your knees starting to give out from the stimulation. He swallows your screams of ecstasy into his mouth greedily, using the hand that had covered your mouth to help keep you upright.

“I’ve got you, Y/N,” he says soothingly, removing his hand from under your dress and wrapping it around your waist, discretely wiping his hand clean on your skirt. You shudder against him, your hands gripping fistfuls of his shirt, and fight to even your breathing. “You did so good, baby. So, so good. Thank you for letting me please you.”

He’s laying it on thick, but again, it was all about paving the way for you to let him have his way with you whenever and however he wanted you. Eventually, you manage to look up at him shyly, a timid smile on your face.

“I–I…you don’t need to thank me, Terry,” you say with a giggle, burying your face in his chest to hide your embarrassment.

“You were right,” you mumble into his shirt, but he hears every word. “You always know what’s best for me.”

And that right there makes all of this worth it. Your willingness to put yourself in his hands, in his control, is his top priority.

He wonders what else he can do with you tonight, and finds himself eager to find out, pulling you along behind him, stumbling from your still-weak knees towards the exit of the Hall of Mirrors.

[^ Terry checking himself out in the Hall of Mirrors]

---

Chapter 3

[simping4villains]

I’m usually a Feitan girlie, but here’s a little Shalnark one shot that I wrote recently! It’s posted on ao3 and wattpad along with my ongoing Feitan fic (all under the same username).

Please give me some requests bc I love writing little scenarios like these!

Anyway:

Our original plan had failed.

As soon as we got to the special event island, we were stopped by one of the game’s creators and beamed to one of the main cities. Shalnark decided that it would be best for us to find somewhere to rest tonight and regroup in the morning.

“Come on,” he said to us. “There’s a place up the road where we can rent lodging for the night.”

   "So, now what?" I asked while we walked. "Can we still go through with the rest of the mission? We don't have the boat anymore."

   He rubbed his chin as he thought. "I guess for now we'll just play the game until we can find another way off of the island."

   "What he means," Phinks clarified, "Is that we'll steal whatever cards we need in order to get the treasure. That's what Fei and I did before."

   "Right," Shal agreed as he pushed through the front door of one of the city's brick buildings.

   The decor inside was very old and rustic-looking. I noticed that there were cobwebs wrapping around the chandelier that hung in the center of the room. There was a small cat-like man sitting in one of the lobby's plush chairs, reading a book. He smiled at us as we came in, hopping up to run behind the counter.

   "Hello! What can I do for you folks?"

   "We'd like to rent six rooms, please," Shalnark answered.

   "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm afraid I've only got three left."

   "Should we go somewhere else?" Franklin asked Shal.

  "No, no, we can just pair off—you and Kortopi, Phinks and Feitan, and me and y/n.” He gave me a warm smile as he said my name.

I appreciated Shalnark’s offer to room with me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised by it. I didn’t think we were necessarily the closest. Then again, who was I really close with out of these guys—Phinks and Feitan? Definitely not, the three of us just teamed up for missions sometimes. Maybe he figured that out of everyone in this group I’d feel least threatened rooming with him. He did have a very welcoming presence after all.

We grabbed our keys from the man behind the counter and climbed the stairs to our shared room.

“I’m excited for our sleepover,” he beamed as he unlocked the door. “I’ve been dying to get to know you better, it’s just that we’ve both been so busy—you with your training and me trying to plan this mission—but what a perfect opportunity this is!”

“Yeah,” I agreed, returning his grin.

It was true that the two of us hadn’t really spent a ton of time together—just a few card games here and there, and that one time he looked after me when I’d passed out during the Yorknew auction mission—but I’d always thought of him as being very kind. Plus, he was pretty close with Machi and Shizuku, and they were probably my best friends in the troupe. So, logically, it made sense that Shalnark and I would get along pretty well, too.

Our room was simple and rustic, just as the lobby had been. The only furniture we had was a beat-up writing desk, a nightstand with a dusty lamp, and a bed just big enough for two.

“Oh no,” he said when he saw it. “Are you okay with sharing? If not I completely understand. I’ll let you have the bed and I can just sleep on the floor or—“

I waved my hands. “No, Shalnark, you don’t have to do that. We can share.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “It’s fine. Really!”

“Okay, as long as you’re comfortable with it!” He flashed me another one of his charming smiles.

He went down the hall to the shared bathroom so we could both have some privacy while changing into our pajamas. I climbed under the covers once I was done and waited for him to get back so I could shut the lights off.

He came back into the room in a pair of purple shorts and a white t-shirt with some video game logo on the front of it, locking the door behind him before rushing and jumping onto the bed. He laughed to himself as he collided with the mattress, then turned to his side and propped his head up on his elbow.

“What, you aren’t tired already, are you?”

“Oh, I mean, were you wanting to stay up?”

“Yeah, I thought maybe we could play a game or something.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm,” He tapped his finger against his lips as he thought. “Oh, I’ve got it! We could play Truth!”

“Truth?” I echoed, not recognizing the game.

“It’s like Truth or Dare, but without the dare part.”

“So, we’d just be asking each other questions?”

He chuckled. “Uh, yeah, I guess that’s all it really is, but you get one chicken card to use if there’s something you don’t want to answer. Is that lame?”

“No, not at all!” I moved onto my side so that I was facing him, too. “You go first so I can think of one.”

“Alright. What’s your favorite color?”

“That’s it?” I laughed. “I was expecting some much deeper questions!”

“Oh, we’ll get to those. I just figured we should start small.” He was smiling again, not that he ever seemed to stop. He really made hanging out with him feel so natural and easy.

“It’s green.”

“What kind? Like a lime green, or an olive green, or a forest green. . .?”

“Mmm probably a deeper green, almost like, well, like your eyes.”

He blinked in surprise at my response, but quickly snapped back to his usual happy demeanor. “I’m flattered. So, did you think of a question for me yet?”

“Who’s your best friend in the troupe?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one!” He weighed his response. “I get along with everyone, but I’d have to say that I’m probably closest with Phinks or Feitan.”

“Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

Honestly, yeah. Phinks and Feitan had regarded me with suspicion when I first joined the troupe, treating me like an enemy, but Shal had always been warm and welcome. It was odd that the three of them would be such great friends. “You’re just pretty different is all.”

“I can see how you’d think that, but they’re good people once you get to know them.” He paused, his expression changing. “Speaking of, is there something going on between you and Feitan?”

My stomach flipped. “What? Why would you think that?”

“Downstairs when I paired people up he didn’t seem to like that I chose to room with you. I guess you must not have noticed the look he was giving me.”

I hadn’t. “Well, I don’t know what that was all about. We can barely stand each other. It’s been that way since I joined.”

It wasn’t technically a lie. There wasn’t anything between Feitan and I—just this stupid attraction that I couldn’t kick, but I knew nothing would ever come of it.

“Okay,” he grinned. “You can count that as my question.”

Fuck, I hadn’t been thinking of what to ask next.

“Do you have anyone?”

It was all I could think of. We were on the subject of romance, so it was the first thing that popped into my mind.

He shook his head. “Nope. I wouldn’t be against it though if I met the right person.”

“What does your ‘right person’ look like?”

He wagged his finger at me. “It’s my turn.”

“Right. Sorry,” I laughed.

“And just for that, I’m stealing your question.”

“No fair!”

He shrugged. “Shouldn’t have tried to skip me, then.”

I jokingly rolled my eyes at him. “Alright, fine. I haven’t really thought about it much, but I guess my perfect person would be. . . someone I could trust, who I can be myself around and who makes me feel safe.”

“Aww that’s sweet.”

“Well, what about you?”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. Repeat questions aren’t allowed.”

I frowned. “But it was my question.”

“I don’t make the rules.”

He literally did, but I wasn’t going to argue. “Alright, then, um, where’s your spider tattoo?”

“Right here,” he tapped the right side of his chest. “Wanna see?”

I nodded.

He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head. I had already figured by his arms that Shalnark was fit, but that knowledge didn’t keep me from staring at his toned abs. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t look away.

Shalnark noticed my wandering gaze. His cheeks lightly flushed as he laid back down again, still shirtless.

“Do you have a question for me now?” I asked.

“I do,” he murmured. “If I tried to kissed you right now. . . would you let me?”

My heart skipped. Was this a joke? No, he wasn’t laughing. He didn’t even have that trademark smile plastered on his face. I searched his eyes—innocent, pleading, sincere. Shalnark wasn’t someone who would hurt me.

Maybe he was exactly what I needed.

I nodded, breathless.

He traced his fingers along my jaw until he reached the back of my neck, where he wove them into my hair. Using this grip, he pulled me closer to him, and our lips met in sparks.

Kissing Shalnark was everything you’d expect: soft, gentle, and sweet. I felt like I was melting against him, turning to putty under his touch. I think he must have known what he was doing to me, because I felt him smiling again.

He broke the kiss, smirking as he brushed his thumb across my lips. “You enjoying yourself?”

“I don’t think it’s your turn to ask a question,” I joked. “And for that, i’m stealing yours.”

He laughed. “Alright, I see how it is. I guess I deserved that.” He moved his hand down my neck and along my side, until it came to rest at my waist. “But yes, I am.”

“Me too,” I smiled.

He rested his forehead on mine, our noses barely brushing. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

Our lips connected once more, but nothing about this kiss was the same. We were both driven by a wild passion coursing through our veins, unable to hold back. It was like our bodies burned for each other. No matter how closely he held me to him, it wasn’t enough.

His hands slid under the fabric of my shirt and he helped to guide it over my head. He paused, his lips parting when he saw the way my stomach was littered in scars.

“Y/n. . .” he carefully ran the tips of his fingers over my raised skin.

“Battle scars,” I chuckled awkwardly. “I’m fine, really.”

He wrapped his arms around me again and held me close to his chest, stroking my hair. “I’m sorry. Whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

“Will you just. . . help me forget?”

He tilted my head up so that I was looking into his eyes. “Anything you need, I’ll do it.”

I kissed him again, biting down on his bottom lip before rolling him on top of me. He took the hint and started biting, kissing, and sucking further down my body until he reached my waistband. He hooked his fingers into the top of my shorts and glanced up at me, waiting for confirmation that this was what I wanted. I nodded and he pulled them down along with my panties.

I suppose I should have felt self conscious, being so exposed in front a man I admittedly didn’t know all too well, but Shalnark didn’t give me any reason to feel insecure.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as I lay sprawled out before him.

He pressed a soft kiss to my knee before pushing my legs apart, then another on the inside of my thigh, and finally his lips covered my clit, causing my hips to buck upward as if they had a mind of their own. He started slowly, teasing me with long, drawn-out strokes in an effort to drive me wild.

“Shal.”

He hummed a question in response, sending vibrations rippling through my core. I threw my head back at the sensation.

“Faster,” I begged. “Please.”

He did as I’d asked, hitting the small bundle of nerves with quick, patterned flicks of his tongue. I moaned as I began to feel the tension building under his skilled movements, my back arching off of the mattress.

He barred an arm across my hips, holding them down as he brought me closer and closer to my release. With his other hand, he traced his fingers around my entrance, testing my wetness with one before sliding two in, curling them over my g-spot and stretching me out.

My hands shot to his head, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as I practically screamed at the amount of stimulation he was giving me. Galaxies exploded behind my eyes as I finally came undone. He moved up to kiss me as I caught my breath, coming down from my high.

“I love the sounds you make for me,” He said, pulling his pants down to release his already-erect cock. “Don’t hold back, okay? I want to know that you’re enjoying it too.”

The rest of our clothes were torn off and thrown into a pile on the floor. We pounced on each other with an animalistic hunger, leaving love bites on every inch of skin we came into contact with.

He sunk into me slowly, giving my body time to adjust to his size, but once I wrapped my legs around his waist he started moving, torturing me with the same drawn out pace as before—the only benefit of this being that I could feel every inch of him rubbing inside of me.

“God, you feel amazing,” he said, burying his face into the crook of my neck. “It’s making it so hard for me to hold back.”

The broken rhythm of his breathing, the brush of his lips against my ear, the strokes that left me wanting more—it was all driving me crazy, making my body feel electric.

“Don’t,” I said.

That was all the convincing he needed.

He fucked into me at a reckless pace, bringing one of my legs up to rest on his shoulder to give him a better angle. He buried himself deeper and deeper, hitting the same, sensitive spot each time he snapped his hips. I arched against him, throwing my head back into a moan. I could already feel another orgasm building.

“There you go, sweet girl. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“Shal, God, just like that.”

My right hand reached to clutch the bedsheets, but he grabbed it and pinned it over my head, lacing his fingers with mine. My left hand wrapped behind his neck, holding him closer as he dipped down and caught me in a kiss. His tongue ran across my bottom lip and I granted him access, letting him explore my mouth as he pushed me closer to my second release.

His hand came between us, moving to work my clit with his thumb. I gasped at his touch. I was so close now, any second I’d—

“You got it, let it go for me.”

His words sent me over the edge. I pulled at his hair as he rode me through my orgasm, my walls clenching tightly around him. Every sensation was amplified, yet at the same time it felt as though I were experiencing the world in a warm haze. I had never felt so content.

He gave me a moment to come back down to earth before dropping my leg from his shoulder and pressing my knees to my chest. I dragged my nails down his back as he snapped his hips even faster than before, chasing his orgasm. I could tell he was getting close when his thrusts became erratic, not following any particular rhythm. Shortly after, I felt the twitch of his cock inside of me followed by a rush of warmth as he filled me with his cum.

He rested his forehead on mine, shutting his eyes tight as his chest rose and fell with exasperation. After a few final strokes, he pressed a passion-filled kiss to my lips and pulled out of me, letting his seed seep onto the bedsheets.

He laid on his back, smiling to himself as he caught his breath. “That’s not how I imagined our first sleepover would go,” he said, pulling me into his chest, “but I still had fun.”

I nodded in agreement.

He helped me clean up and we got dressed in our pajamas again before settling back into bed. I fell asleep in Shal’s arms, listening to the retro sounds of his video game.

[santoteez]

Kinktober 2022 - Day Three

Genre: Smut, Fluff (? Debatable)

Idol: Choi Seungcheol (S.Coups) of SEVENTEEN

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Gym Sex, PlusSize!Reader(not extremely detailed or anything), unprotected sex, semi-public sex?, fingering (f receiving), squirting

Seungcheol sighed as he completed his final rep of the night. The pull-up bar banged against the rest of the cable machine, relieved to be put out of its assault.

Although he wasn’t one to let the woes of the idol career get to him, there were times when Seungcheol just couldn’t help himself. Like when variety show hosts decided it’d be fun to make jokes about his relationship.

Let it be clear that Cheol wasn’t the jealous type. No, he took pride when Y/N received too-long stares during their routine strolls, or when the barista’s fingers lingered a bit too long when they collected her payment, only for their face to drop when she promptly spun away from the counter and into his arms. No, he wasn’t a jealous boyfriend.

But there were some things he just couldn’t ignore.

“S.Coups, you’re such a busy guy! You’re the leader of a 13-member group, the leader of said group’s hip-hop unit, and you just got off a world tour. Now, you’ve revealed the most shocking part of all: your 13-month relationship with Y/N. How do you make time for everything?”

“Well, when you want something enough, you simply make time for it.” He smiled.

“Truly impressive. Now, tell us a bit more about Y/N. I know you want to respect her privacy and all, but just tell us what you think we and your fans need to know about her.”

Cheol beamed at the thought of his girlfriend. “She’s great. I was walking past a building- I won’t say where- when I noticed her drop a handful of documents. The wind was blowing so I stopped because there was no way she’d get them all herself. I helped her to her car and we’ve been inseparable ever since. I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend. She’s the sweetest person I know and she’s always there when I need her. “

“And do you do the same?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you also always there when she needs you?”

Cheol flinched, recalling all the times he’s had to postpone or take a rain check on their plans. Then, he remembered the nights when he fell asleep on her on Facetime or she’d arrive at his apartment excited for a night in to find him dozing off.

“I’m sure I’ve let her down in the past year, as I’m not perfect. But It’s always my goal to make it up to her.”

The host scoffed. “She wouldn’t have to go through all of that if you had a regular job. Or even a job like mine. I’m just a TV host. My workday ends. I could easily make it to important events since I don’t have anything like a world tour in the way.”

Cheol shifted in his seat, remembering the time Y/N’s work dinner fell on the same day as a special stage. Shaking hands with her boss with sweat dripping down his temple after running all the way there was not a good look. “Right.”

“Well,” The reporter snickered. “Maybe Y/N should be with me.”

“You?”

“Or someone like me. That could be there for those crucial moments.” He shrugged.

Cheol laughed. “Let her be the judge of that. We make it work between us. No one else matters beyond that.” His knuckles tightened around the arms of the chair.

The host raised his hands in defense. “I’m just saying.”

“Thank you for having me.” Cheol stood up from his chair, heading for the door.

“You’re leaving?” The host turned to the production staff. “Is it over?” He asked, to which they shrugged. “Well, I guess we’re done!” He said, and the cameras stopped rolling.

They missed Cheol’s fists colliding with the host’s face.

So now, here he was, turning his anger into fitness.

If the world thought he wasn’t a reliable boyfriend to Y/N, it wasn’t long until she thought the same. He had to intercept before it was too late.

Which is why he called her over.

Sat in the corner of the gym, on a barely-used bench, Y/N watched as Cheol’s back muscles stretched and contracted with his every move. She watched as his Adam’s Apple bobbed wildly after every sip of water.

She shifted in her seat, heat rising throughout her face and neck. When he called her over, she rushed over, excited at the thought of a late-night stroll afterward. But, her mind now had other plans. She took a deep breath as Seungcheol lifted his shirt to dry off his face, his sweat-glistened abs on display for her greedy eyes alone. This gym was privately owned, and the owner was a friend of Seungcheol’s. It was also after hours, so no one would be arriving for hours to come.

“Ch-cheol.”  She spoke, her voice barely a whisper, but he heard it.

He turned to her, smiling as he took in her beauty. He beckoned her over, chuckling softly when she wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m sweating.”

“I’m aware.”

“Let me shower first.” He tried to pull away, stumbling when Y/N didn’t let go.

“You’re not that sweaty, it’s fine.” She tilted her head to look at him. “Even if you were, I’d still want my hug.”

Cheol stared at her, raising his hand to caress her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”

“For all the times I’ve missed a date or turned up late. I’m sorry I’m not always-” 

Y/N pressed her lips against his, silencing him mid-apology. 

“Are you doing this because of that shitty reporter? I told you, he’s an old classmate of mine. Always had a thing for me, even when I declined numerous times. I actually have his mom on Facebook. And what do you know, she had not seen the clip yet. So, I sent it to her. She said she’d ‘deal with that knucklehead.’” Y/N smiled as Cheol burst out laughing.

“Don’t let his words get in your head. I’d never leave you for him. I knew what I was signing up for in this relationship, and I’m happy here. I want to be with you.”

Cheol took one look into Y/N’s sparking eyes before he leaned in, closing the gap between them. 

He tried to take his time, to be gentle. And it lasted all of 5 seconds before his kisses left Y/N constantly breathless. He pushed her onto the workout bench,  yanking her leggings down her legs.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m in a rush.” His face was flushed.

“It’s okay, me too. Keep going.” She whispered.

Cheol slid his fingers under the waistband of her lacy panties - the ones that drove him crazy, was this her plan all along?- and let out a shaky breath when the pads of his fingers found her clit.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby.”

Y/N whimpered as she rolled her hips to lean into his touch. With her promotion and Cheol being busy with promotions, they’d barely found any time for…this. Hence why Y/N felt like she was losing her mind.

“Cheol, just fuck me already.” She pleaded.

He kissed her temple, a rather innocent gesture while performing such a lewd act. “I want you to cum first.”

“Seriously?”

“You cum on my fingers first or not at all.” He met her gaze, stoic and almost unfazed by her frustration. “Do you understand?” He plunged two fingers inside her, knuckle deep.

Y/N felt the heat spreading across her cheeks as she nodded, her breaths becoming ragged as time went on.

Her hand flew up to wrap around his wrist, keeping him still as her body shook.

“There we go. Didn’t that feel good?” Cheol asked, sucking his fingers clean.

He smirked when Y/N whined. “I know, I know. I didn’t forget.”

She was positive her heart skipped a beat when Cheol lifted his shirt over his head. The room was relatively dark, but the moonlight highlighted her boyfriend perfectly.

“Are you sure you want to do this here? This isn’t like you, baby.” He teased, despite knowing her answer.

She tugged on the waistband of his sweats, pulling him towards her. “Hurry up and fuck me the way that reporter can’t”

Cheol groaned, his dick hardening even further, which he hadn’t thought was possible. He yanked her panties off, abandoning them on the bench as he lifts her up by the thighs.

“Wait, Cheol. What are you doing?” She yelped.

“Shh, I’ve always wanted to fuck you just like this.” He pressed her back against the wall, strategically placing her between the pull-over machine and the treadmill.

“What if I get heavy?”

“You’re not. I love your size.” It was true. Cheol loved every aspect of his girlfriend. From her plush thighs to her full breasts to her soft midsection, he was obsessed. Then add her intelligence and charisma on top of that? How did he get so lucky?

He momentarily moved his hand from her thigh, pushing his sweats down just enough to let his cock spring out. The tip was leaking already, begging to be stimulated. Without a second thought, he brought her thighs up to wrap around his waist. He took grasp of her hips with both hands and slid his fat cock into her tight, little hole.

Y/N clawed at Cheol’s back with her long nails. She gasped as he pulled out almost completely before bottoming out again at a harsh pace, not even giving her a second to adjust.

“Cheol, baby. Hold on.” She managed as she held on for dear life.

“Uh uh. You can handle it.” He nestled his face in the crook of her neck, the faint traces of her perfume infiltrating his senses. “Good girls take what they’re given. You’re gonna be my good girl, aren’t you?” He gritted, not letting his pace falter even for a second.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good for you. So, so good.” Y/N could feel the sweat on her back allowing her to glide across the wall. “Just don’t stop, please.”

Cheol brought a hand to her face, pressing his lips against hers. His kiss was hot, hungry, and desperate. 

“You’re gonna cum soon, huh? Gonna cum for me in the middle of my friend’s gym? Gonna let me breed this tight, little pussy? Fill you up until it leaks out?” 

She nodded. “Baby, look.” She ran her hand over her stomach, where the bulge had not gone unnoticed. “I can feel you right here.”

Cheol huffed. “You’re killing me here, baby. I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

“Cum inside me, Cheol,” She whined. “Wanna be full of you.” She stared at him through lidded eyes.

He shook his head. “You first, baby.” 

Y/N’s body shook as Cheol’s wandering hand rubbed jarring circles on her clit. Her mouth fell into a silent scream and hot tears rolled down her cheeks as her orgasm overpowered her being. Her body stilled as she squirted, her fluids coating Cheol’s abdomen.

“Fuck…” He mumbled, following suit as his white, hot cum filled her pretty cunt. The visual and intensity of her orgasm had been the final push he needed to cum.

They stayed like that for a while, trying to regulate their breathing.

Cheol broke the silence. “I’m gonna set you down now, okay?” He whispered as if an octave higher would scare her away. When she nodded, he helped her to her feet and stabilized her footing when she stumbled slightly.

“God, I needed that.” She laughed softly.

“You and I both. Shower?” He asked.

Y/N side-eyed him.

“Just a shower. I swear.”

“You said that last time.”

“...Okay, maybe I did. But can you blame me? I can never get enough of you.” He laughed when she glared at him.

The following morning, Cheol’s cell phone woke him up. 

“Hello?” He asked, not bothering to see who was calling.

“Choi Seungcheol. Did you fuck in my gym?”

That woke him up. “Nope.”

“Then what are these damn stains on the bench and on the floor between the machines?”

“...Okay, maybe I fucked in your gym.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. I have a mop, a bucket, and rags. Be here in 15 minutes.” And the line went dead.

Cheol groaned, sliding out of bed.

“Do you have a schedule today?” Y/N asked groggily, opening her eyes momentarily when she felt him move.

“No, I’ll be back soon. Keep sleeping and we can go out for breakfast when I get back okay?”

She smiled and nodded, closing her eyes again.

His phone rang a second time.

‘I heard you, I’m coming.”

“There’s panties on the floor. Do you have any idea how much I hate you right now?”

“Okay, I forgot them there. I’m coming. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” He laughed as the man on the other end spewed a line of profanities down the receiver.

Very tired but I’m trying to power through in order to finish what I started :)

This was not proofread so forgive any typos but I’ve read it multiple times and I didn’t find any! <3

-pluto

[lonelywhalien22]

pretty lies - part three

pairing: vernon x reader

rating/genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, ANGSTY fluff, band au

summary: supporting your friend mingyu becomes way more than you ever could have bargained for when you become involved with one of his bandmates

warnings: cussing, vernon has issues in this story but please remember this is a work of fiction, mingyu stans don’t hate me but mingyu and reader are just friends

word count: 2.4k

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It was Saturday, the night of the band’s first gig together since adding Vernon. You were on the phone with Mingyu as you stared at your closet in complete confusion.

“What do I even wear to something like this?”

“Just wear what you’d wear to a party. A good gig should feel like a party.”

“I don’t know…” you said, still unsure.

“If you wanna dance, wear something comfortable. If you wanna pick up a guy then wear something form fitting. Bonus points if you can achieve both. Simple,” Mingyu said quickly, seemingly preoccupied with his own preparations on the other end of the line.

“Shut up, I’m going as a supportive friend, not trying to get laid.”

“Who says you can’t do both?”

“Mingyu -”

“Trust me - if we’re good no one will be looking at you anyways.”

“Shit, guess I’ll have to dress to impress then.”

“Funny,” Mingyu deadpanned. “Just throw something on and pick me up.”

“What was that?”

“Please-please-please pick me up, my wonderful friend who I am so thankful for -” you heard Mingyu begin to desperately plead as you tried to hold in your laughter on the other end.

“That sounds better.”

Half an hour later, you and Mingyu pulled up to the back of the venue to bring in equipment and give the band a chance to warm up. The sun began to set just as you carried in the last bit of stuff, the sky a soft orange that melted into a deep purple. The venue was just a little larger than the size of a hole in the wall bar, with walls made of brick and a plethora of flyers advertising different events nailed into its surface. The stage was at the far back, and there was a small hallway that led to a staff and prep room as well as the back door where you and Mingyu had brought in equipment. The floors were a dark hardwood, some of the boards creaking as staff walked around, setting things up, and a bar was right off to the side of the entrance. Jay greeted you once everything was settled, motioning you in for a hug while Mingyu spoke with one of the staff members to make sure everything was on track.

“Thanks for coming out,” Jay said as the two of you separated.

“Of course. Where’s Vernon?” you asked a little worriedly. How could he be late for the band’s very first performance? 

“He’ll be here. I called him a minute ago and he’s just in a bit of a delay.”

As people began slowly trickling into the venue you left the stage area to go and do some mingling at the bar, trying to take your mind off of Vernon’s tardiness while you let Mingyu and Jay focus on getting ready. You had decided on wearing a pair of worn-in black denim jeans and a white crop top, a black puffer still layered over to fight the cold until you warmed up. Your hair was secured in a ponytail at the back of your head so you didn’t get too hot once it got more crowded inside. After about another hour, the lights in the venue dimmed and an announcer came onto the small stage to make the band’s introduction.

“Welcome you all, we’ve got quite the treat for you tonight,” the announcer began. “This group has been active for five years, exciting audiences with their energizing performances all over the city. With Jay on the bass, Mingyu on drums, and debut member Vernon on lead guitar and vocals, please give it up for Red Rock Day!”

The audience erupted into loud cheers and hollers. You quickly hopped up from your spot at the bar and weaved your way through the crowd towards the front so you didn’t get stuck somewhere too far back, excited but also nervous to finally see the guys perform. Had they practiced enough? What about the argument with Vernon? Could it somehow ruin the performance?

The three bandmates appeared from the back hallway and made a path to their places on stage. You saw Vernon for the first time that night, making his way to the mic up front and adjusting it to his height. He wore black leather pants with combat boots and a loose, dark blue collared shirt that was completely unbuttoned and layered over a white sleeveless v-neck. A silver chain hung from his neck and his hair was parted to the side tonight, the strands straightened out a little and gelled slightly to give an almost wet-hair look. You tried to read his expression but he had quite the poker face - you couldn’t tell if he was confident or nervous, if he wanted to be there or if he wished he were somewhere else entirely. You hoped for the former.

“Good evening, everyone. We’re Red Rock Day, and this one’s called ‘Forest Rising,’” Vernon finished curtly before nodding off to the back. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Mingyu began pressing the pedal on his drum set at a fast tempo and Jay followed shortly after on the bass.

“One, Two, Three, GO!” Vernon shouted in time to the beat before a blast of sound came out of the speakers. He spun around for a few beats before facing the crowd again, his fingers beginning to strum a catchy guitar riff. The room exploded immediately into screams, people jumping up and down and pumping their fists.

They must have started with a fan favorite, you thought as the crowd began to sing along with Vernon.

This being the first time you heard him, you were caught off guard by the deepness of his voice, the lyrics he was singing seeming to glide over the shouts of the audience while also luring them in, like a guiding light in a sea of chaos. It was as if he had become someone else entirely while he performed - his mannerisms bold and decisive, an aura that was decidedly charismatic radiating from his body as he paced back and forth across the stage rhythmically. You glanced over at Mingyu in the back, seeing him give Jay a knowing smile, his tongue sticking out slightly in a satisfied grin - things were definitely going well. The first song ended with a bang, and the crowd erupted into cheers and hollers. 

From then on, the rest of the set continued to go smoothly. You let your worries go and quickly became one with the crowd, jumping up and down to the rhythm of the beat and raising your hands in the air throughout the performance, eyes closing at times to savor the sound. Vernon seemed to loosen up with each song as well, leaning the mic stand towards the audience at various points as he sang his lungs out. Sometimes during guitar solos he would face Mingyu or Jay while playing to really amp up the crowd, each member nodding at each other affably. At one point towards the end of the set, a scream of, “you’re so hot” managed to be heard from the roar of the crowd as Vernon brushed his hair back out of his face, his skin glistening from the exertion of performing. You swore you saw a light blush appear across his cheeks, a tight lipped smile on his face as he looked down at the floor for a moment, trying to hide his reaction, but he continued to sing, giving no other sign that he had registered the fan’s words.

“Thanks for coming out tonight,” Vernon finished when the performance was finally over.

—————

“Holy crap, you guys were amazing!” You ran up to Mingyu, giving him a light hug as you saw he was drenched in sweat.

The performance had ended half an hour ago, and the crowd was finally beginning to disperse from the venue. You had lingered back from the stage for a moment, waiting for the band to finish interacting with some fans and speak with the bar staff before making your way forward.

“The crowd was wild. One of the best we’ve had.”

“Great job, man,” Jay appeared, patting Mingyu on the back and giving you a high five.

“I’ll go get my car so we can start packing up,” you offered, seeing how tired the two of them looked, the adrenaline from the performance starting to wane.

You made your way through the hallway and out the back door near the stage, the door giving a loud clunk as it shut behind you. A blast of cool air hit your face and you shivered slightly, your hands immediately going up to rub against your arms. You had abandoned your jacket just two songs into the performance, having warmed up quickly from dancing along with the crowd. You turned around to go back and grab it, trying several times unsuccessfully to turn the handle when a deep voice interrupted your movements.

“It’s locked.”

You turned to your side to see Vernon leaning against the outside brick wall, the water bottle in his hand practically empty.

“Shit. I guess I’ll just go back around to the front once I get my car,” you said into the air, still shivering in your crop top as you saw your breath materialize in front of you. You got ready to make the trek back around before stopping again to share your thoughts quickly, still buzzing with energy from the mini concert.

“You were great tonight, by the way. I didn’t realize you could sing so well. I honestly loved every single song.”

Vernon’s eyes widened a bit before he looked away from you, glancing down almost shyly. 

“Thanks.” 

You laughed a little.

“What’s so funny?” he looked back up at you, another one of those guarded looks appearing on his face.

“You know, I think I’ve heard you sing more words than I’ve ever heard you speak,” you teased. You chuckled again before a sneeze came out of you and you tightened your arms around your waist. While your head was down, you suddenly felt a piece of fabric being draped over your shoulders. It was the long-sleeved shirt Vernon had been wearing over his v-neck. You looked up at him as he was now closer, confusion written all over your expression.

“You looked cold,” he explained simply.

“Oh no you don’t have to, I’ll just walk back to the front and -”

“Just put it on. I’m out here trying to cool off anyways,” he cut you off as he stepped back from you.

You stood there for a few seconds, still unsure.

“I’m sure they’re waiting for you so they can get out of here,” Vernon prodded before looking away from you and out towards the street, cars flying by.

He was right. You finally slipped your arms through the shirt sleeves before eagerly wrapping it closed against your chest. It smelled faintly like him, the scent of cedar once again hitting your nose. You didn’t even care that he’d probably sweat in it while on stage, just thankful for another layer.

“Thanks.”

You turned and left at that, quickly making your way to where you’d parked your car on a side street and hopping in, cranking up the heat before pulling it up to the back door. You then jogged around to the front of the venue, entering through the main door and grabbing your black puffer coat from the coat rack, zipping it up over yourself immediately.

“Car’s out back,” you yelled over to Mingyu, Jay, and Vernon, who were now all fiddling with different pieces of equipment, breaking things down and placing them into various bags. You went and opened the back door, this time pressing down the stand to keep it open as Mingyu carried out the first load.

“It’s cold as shit out here,” you heard Jay remark as he and Vernon each lifted a side of a heavier box out and into your car.

“Let’s just hurry so we can go home,” Mingyu encouraged. 

After another fifteen minutes, everything was finally packed up. Jay said his goodbyes, making his way to his car while you and Mingyu got settled in the front seats of yours. As you started to pull off, you saw Vernon walking back towards the front of the venue, strapping on his helmet with bare arms as he made his way around the corner and out of sight. That’s when you remembered you were still wearing his shirt.

“Everything good?” Mingyu asked, clearly ready to go home.

“One sec, I forgot something,” you responded, getting out of your car and running in the same direction Vernon had gone.

“Vernon! Wait! I’ve still got your shirt,” you called after him, finally catching his attention near his bike in the parking lot as he turned around and pulled his helmet back off to look at you. You stopped in front of him under the orange glow of a street light, beginning to unzip your jacket so you could give his shirt back, the frosty air immediately seeping into your chest and making you shiver again.

“Just give it back to me later.”

“But you’ll freeze riding out in weather like this.” 

You stubbornly continued to unzip your jacket, fumbling with the zipper in the cold.

“Y/n, stop.” Vernon walked closer and placed a cold hand over yours, freezing you in your tracks as you finally looked back up at him. Why did his touch have such an effect on you?

“It’s fine. I’ve got a jacket.”

He turned away from you for a moment and fished out a leather jacket with a fur lining from inside a storage compartment at the back of his bike, slipping it on. Oh.

“Done worrying about me now?”

“I wasn’t worried,” you said back irritated, body suddenly feeling warm in embarrassment. You looked up to see that he was smirking at you.

“I wasn’t!”

“Sure.”

He boarded the motorcycle then, giving you one last look in the eyes before fitting his helmet back over his head. You watched as he reversed into the street and sped off.

“Found what you were looking for?” Mingyu asked as you made it back to your car, yanking the door open as you got back in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” you snapped, zipping your jacket back up and finally driving off.

“What’re you yelling at me for???” Mingyu whined.

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taglist: @twogyuu @yourfavoritefreakyhan

[thehaemanthus]

Someday, Today (Part 1/3)

A Helion/LoA fic for the ACOTAR Writing Circle! Thanks to @azrielshadowssing for organizing this event. It really is a bunch of fun :)

I've never actually written any Helion/LoA, but it's a juicy dynamic. I hope the characterizations in this short first installment  are accurate, exciting, and a good springboard for the next two writers.

Someday, Today is a Modern!AU with a newly divorced mom, a confused man, and seven sons lol. Can Helion and LoA move beyond their pasts into a better future together?

A sea of cells speckled with black and white characters swam before Corissa’s vision. The summer sun had set, but she had been too glued to her laptop and spreadsheets to turn on the light. The room was a dark cave, illuminated by the blue-white glow of her laptop screen.

She rubbed her weary eyes. Rest beckoned, but this was more important. School supplies, groceries, house payments, credit cards and more balanced against child support and alimony and a feeble salary.

Corissa had never felt ashamed to stay at home and raise her seven boys, but…well, it would have been nice to have an employable skill and work history besides the retail jobs she took on for fun in college.

The room brightened. She blinked rapidly, leaning away from her screen.

“It’s almost midnight.” Eris scowled by the light switch, like he was the parent and she was the child. But her seventeen year old son was too gangly, still too much arms-and-legs to act the adult.

God, seventeen. He’d be off to college next year. How much of the tuition would Beron take on? He was still paying for the boys’s private school, but college?

Eris walked over and put a hand over the laptop. “You should sleep.”

“Let me finish this,” she smiled, plastering on the face that said everything was all right. “First day of school tomorrow. We’ll all be busy this week.”

Eris frowned. “It’s not like you’re the one going to school.”

“Eris.” Corissa put her foot down. “You should be in bed.”

“I’m a teenager, we’re nocturnal,” Eris said. “But fine. Whatever. Just don’t make me the babysitter when you’re tired.”

She watched as he left the room. Her eyes ached when she looked back at her spreadsheet. Then she shut the laptop and went to bed.

Some days, the anxiety drove her to tears. She married at twenty and never had to pay big bills, do taxes without the assistance of an accountant, or buy a house on her own. But she had done it, had figured it all out with minimal help. She received custody of her children, she got their obnoxious mansion and then sold it. Now, Corissa and her sons lived in a more modest house in the suburbs. She had learned how to do it all and still continued to learn.

The anxiety she felt now would never compare to the feeling of living under the same roof as Beron. She would take this every day.

The morning was filled with chaos and uniforms and spilled milk until all of a sudden the boys were hopping out of her minivan in their neatly pressed uniforms, and she could breathe.

“Mommy, I wanna go to school.”

She smiled into the rearview mirror, carefully navigating out of the school drop-off. “We are going, buddy. You just go to a different school.”

Lucien scowled in his car seat. “No.”

“You don’t want to go to a different school?”

His little grumpy face was adorable— and too recognizable. It sent a pang through Corissa, reminded her of vastly different times. All of her children were precious, but Lucien…Lucien was unique.

It was Lucien who had given her the strength to leave Beron. As a baby, he passed for Beron’s son. But the more he grew into his features, she worried others would start to see what she knew. What she was sure Beron had suspected. Instead of waiting around to find out what would happen, she left.

Lucien had been the catalyst, but leaving Beron was the best choice for Corissa and all of her children. She wanted to give her sons a chance to grow into men without the influence of an abusive father hovering over them. So far, the only big sacrifices they had to make were some friends, their old house, and a mom that was a lot more busy with a new job.

Corissa was usually one of the first people in the little office. She had been a supporter of the nonprofit for childhood literacy for years, a little project that Beron allowed since it boosted their reputation. After the divorce, she was fortunate enough to transition from donor and occasional volunteer to employee. Corissa was immensely grateful. She didn’t have much work experience, but she did know how to coordinate schedules and plan parties.

Privately, she wondered if part of the reason they hired her was for networking— unfortunately, they would have very quickly realized that all of her “friends” were Beron’s friends, and she was very alone.

She was in the middle of scanning some documents when she heard the door open, calling out, “Be there in a moment!”

The papers almost fell out of her hands when she saw who was waiting in their tiny little lobby.

Time had been good to Helion. He was wearing a tan suit, no tie, top buttons on his white shirt undone. It only took a split second to catalog those broad shoulders and thick thighs. He looked the part of a man in control, and the brain behind those penetrating eyes proved it.

The first time Corissa spoke with Helion, they were paired in a college class for a quick discussion. Mandated group work in class became late night milkshakes and long study sessions during finals week. Back then, they had been young and full of ideas about the future. But she chose what her family wanted for her and he let her do that, and then love turned sour. Yet like a comet, he’d come blazing back into her life every few years demanding attention. Beauty that could not be ignored.

Now he was in front of her again, just as magnetic.

In the back of her mind, Corissa knew it wasn’t a coincidence he was here. He supported the nonprofit, which may or may not have been part of the reason she supported it too. But in the moment, all she could do was squeak, “hi!”

“Corissa.” At least he looked shocked too. But he recovered faster. “You look well.”

Now would be the moment to laugh and tell him that she got divorced and life had never looked sweeter.

“Yeah,” she said. “And you? I mean— how are you doing?”

He smiled, and she melted a bit. Oh, damn him. “Good. I, uh, wanted to see if I could pick up my tickets for the gala?”

“Oh, right!” It was kind of him. They would save a bit on postage. She opened a drawer and brought out a folder. She found his name, checked it off, and handed four tickets over.

“Thanks,” Helion said, but he didn’t leave. “You’re volunteering here now?”

She shook her head. “Working.”

“Oh. That’s great.”

She nodded with a smile. This would be when normal people would mention the big change in their life, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Corissa was raised to keep her personal business to herself. The outward picture always had to be rosy and perfect, and any problems were ignored in public.

It was how she lived her entire life. If there was anyone she should be able to shed her defenses with, it was Helion. But she just couldn’t.

“I’ll see you at the gala?” Helion asked.

“Yes.” He probably assumed she’d be a guest, in one of her designer dresses and red-soled heels. “I’ll be working, probably.”

He nodded. “I think it’s… great that you’re getting so involved.”

She couldn’t help her little laugh. “Yeah…” She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, wondering how to transition from that to “well, I’m working because I’m terrified of relying on my abusive ex’s alimony and child support payments”.

Helion cleared his throat, rocked back and forth on his heels. “Everything is all right with you?”

“Everything’s fine!” she said, a little too chipper. But at least it was true. “Busy with back to school and all that.”

“Right. How are your kids?”

She swallowed roughly. Another moment to say something… “Good, growing up fast. Eris is a senior already.”

“Wow,” Helion rubbed the back of his head. “Then you’ll only have what? Five at home? Practically an empty nester.”

“Six,” she corrected him. “Lucien is three, you might not have heard…”

That blushing feeling, the awkward heat in her chest of embarrassment and delight, turned a bit cold. Helion’s expression closed off, and she knew he was doing the math.

“Seven boys, that’s a lot.”

“They keep me on my toes,” Corissa said softly.

“Thanks for the tickets,” Helion said abruptly.

“You're welcome.” The words barely left her mouth before he was out the door.

Corissa sank into her chair and cursed. That could not have gone more wrong.

Helion considered himself a logical person, but so much of that logic seemed to fly out the window where Corissa Vanserra was concerned.

She had been out of his league, from a totally different world when they first met. It didn’t stop them from falling in love or dreaming of a future together.

No, the only roadblock had been her family. And for some reason, he had let her walk away. He had definitely been an idiot, but what 20 year old kid knew what to do when the girl he loved was demanding commitment and maturity that he didn’t know if he could give? In the end, he waited too long and she got impatient. And that was that.

But Corissa inspired all sorts of lapses in judgment. Whenever he stumbled upon her, he made an honest attempt to keep his distance. Then he had convinced himself that her smiles, her laughter, the way that her shell was thawing and the look in her eye when they were together really meant something. When they were twenty he wasn’t the man she needed him to be, but Helion was ready to take her and her kids, the whole package.

A mistake, obviously. Corissa didn’t want him like that, not when she had her rich successful asshole husband.

Or did she?

It wasn’t like Helion saw Corissa regularly, but he never saw her in public without her wedding ring. Except for earlier that day. Corissa was never anything but perfectly put together. Manicured nails, salon-worthy blow out, light natural makeup to cover any miniscule imperfection, and always a necklace and earrings at least. To leave her wedding ring off…

Helion went through the morning in a daze. There was someone he could call to do some snooping. It wouldn’t be that difficult to find out what was going on between the Vanserras, not with the way this town liked to gossip.

But Corissa hadn’t said anything. If she hadn’t said anything, she didn’t want him to know. And if she didn’t want him to know, why the hell would he start chasing after Corissa Vanserra again? It could only end in more heartbreak.

[mitsuhirei]

Once is Not Enough

(Harry x Reader smut) 

A continuation of Harry and MC’s relationship following their special late night call. Sequel to “Just This Once.” If you haven’t read that one, I suggest reading that first so you aren’t lost.

CW: Please use discretion while reading as there are spoilers for Day 35+ to roughly day 95ish as this fic takes place in a timeline roughly.

The following morning, when Harry’s phone goes off, it’s to his genuine surprise. After the events of the previous evening, He’d seriously considered whether his weirdo would contact him again. Whenever he’s idle, what transpired comes to mind. The sound of her voice. Her shaky gasps. Every vivid detail he imagined. Harry nearly drops his glass of carrot juice and his phone while zoning out in the kitchen. This can’t be. He’s not clumsy. It’s better to focus on the present. And he’s curious about what she has to say.

I have the worst hangover in history. It’s terrible :’( You shouldn’t have drank so much. I thought I didn’t? But it seems I went overboard.

There’s a question he wants to ask since she’s shared that.

How overboard? Do you remember—

>:^( This is betrayal! You two are so mean! How could you block me?!

But Piu Piu interrupts before he can finish his question. Though perhaps that’s a good thing, since he shared he wouldn’t bring up yesterday’s events to her in the morning. And she’d countered, sharing he likely would. There’s a moment of self-awareness for him while Piu Piu blows up the chat with its cries.

What? Stop crying and explain, please. Blocked! Locked out! Lost in the web’s darkness without company X^( Do AIs feel loneliness? Of course we do! How could you even ask that? Piu Piu, calm down. What are you talking about? I was blocked from this chat. Didn’t one of you do it? We’ve been over this Piu Piu. It wasn’t us. We don’t have access to that feature. Then how????? :^( Don’t know, but you should look into it. Especially since Harry said he received a photo from me yesterday. Do you see it, Piu Piu? No. I have no access to anything from last night. There are no records of calls or messages.

While it’s an odd, unfortunate situation, it’s also a relief. Otherwise, all three of them would’ve been blocked. And if Piu Piu wasn’t responsible, then that lays one of his worries to rest. And brings in an entirely new one.

Bird, run a diagnostic or something on her phone. Make sure it’s good. Will do! Loading... Loading... Loading... All good! Everything is clean. Well, that’s a relief. Sort of. Thanks Piu Piu :)

The conversation has derailed, and he shouldn’t mention what he shared he wouldn’t, yet Harry wants an answer. Does she remember? She must, right? She’s the one who called it a special memory.

Sort of? :^o Did something happen?

What luck. Perhaps he won’t have to ask thanks to Piu Piu. How useful.

I had too much to drink is all.

Hmm. Too vague. Seems it wasn’t so useful after all.

Would you like me to search for a remedy? Don’t search it. Just send the best one. Huh? Really? That’s kind of you Harry. H-Harry? I’m the one working here... Yes, you’re doing well too, Piu Piu. :^)

Must she praise it in front of him? It’s not working that hard. Well, at least his praise came beforehand.

Aren’t you heading out soon, Harry? You’re supposed to meet Tain and Malong, right?

Right. He had that to do today...

I’d rather stay home. But you’ll go anyway, so just get ready now. You’re sending me off so easily? Yes. I’m busy and sick, so I’m going back to bed. I’ll see you later.

As she leaves first, he has no choice but to go. Though he entertains the idea of lounging around at home, when he’s idle, he thinks about what he shouldn’t—Yesterday’s event. So he hops into the shower. Just in time, too. The shower’s ruthless cold settles the weight in his chest and abates the urge to... Harry splashes his face with chilly water. Enough thinking about it. He has to deal with people soon. And despite what’d happened, nothing’s changed. Everything’s the same. At least everything he’s observed so far.

***

At Tain’s bar, Harry’s the only one not drinking and, frankly, not paying attention. But there’s nothing to centre his focus on. Tain and Malong have complained all afternoon in circles. About money, women, and about family and love. And it’s deep into the evening now. The only use he’s gotten out of the entire ordeal is an escape from the thoughts plaguing him. Yet, even that’s wearing off. He wonders what she smells like as Malong vents about fragrances. Imagines the type of ensemble she’d wear beside him at a party like the one Rachel’s hosting that Tain whines he’s not invited to. His eyes flick over his phone for the eightieth time tonight. It’s been so silent. Is she still sleeping? Did the remedy reach her? It bothers him that she’s not here, so he doesn’t know.

“You realize you’re never without your phone these days, Harry?” He glances up at Tain. “Why is it that every time I’m at a table with you, you’re glancing down?” Malong snacks on prosciutto and olives, before he takes a swig of wine, followed by a loud, elated sigh. “That’s where his interest is. Playing with his phone.” “Hah,” Tain scoffs. “It’s been hours. I can count on one hand the number of times he’s looked up. One of them was just now.” “You ignore us a lot for someone so glued to their device,” Malong follows. Harry glances at his screen. Thankfully, Piu Piu hasn’t turned on the voice feature. “Aaaand he’s at it again,” Tain complains. “Aish. Really.” “Bird, don’t turn it on. Nothing is interesting here.” “What bird? Do you have a pet or something? You’re even stranger these days.” Malong pulls the bottle of wine closer to himself. He tops up a glass, that’s mostly full, straight to the rim. Nothing’s left in the bottle.

“Leave him like that. He may become a generous man because of that weirdo. Then it’s good for us,” Malong laughs. He raises the bottle before Tain. “It’s empty. Are we done?” “No. I have more to say, so get another.” “Hehe, you said I could.” Malong sneaks off with a chuckle after Tain slaps the key in his hand. Then Tain whips back around to Harry. “You could listen to the woes of your friends.” “I did.” “Oh yeah? What have we talked about then?” “Money. Rachel. Business. Family. Rachel. Fragrances. Rachel.” “Those are the topics! I’m talking about what I said. The core of the problem, and advice on the core of the problem! We’re together here for some catharsis. Some camaraderie.” “So? Couldn’t you two commiserate together? Why am I here? I was peaceful at home.” “You...” Tain enunciates. He takes a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s talk about something you will care about.” “No,” Harry rejects before Tain says more. Malong joins them with the same bottle of wine, but Harry notices he has a somewhat guilty look. Like a dog who’d eaten something it wasn’t supposed to and may pay for later.

“I’m back—” “You want to know about the reason he’s addicted to his phone? Right, Malong?” “Hmm?” He’s startled. “Ahh...” Tain tugs him into the chair and that’s enough of a warning. “Ahhh? Yeah! Sure, I do!” He agrees. “I’m so curious. Let’s hear about her.” “Don’t bother. I’m not telling you.” Tain leans forward. “Is she pretty?” “I thought he was immune to pretty women?” “Where’s her photo? We wanna see. We’ll meet her eventually, right?” “No. You won’t.” “Why is it such a secret? Anyone who knows you can tell you’re being weird about this. Are you a dragon? Is she your gold?” Harry glares. “Oooh! Hahaha! With that look, fire might actually come out. His name isn’t Harry anymore. It’s Smaag.*” Tain snickers at Malong’s joke. “Do they really talk to you? You? All day?” “Do you have nicknames?” “Are you being lovey dovey while we’re single!?” Harry says nothing. He doesn’t eat or drink either. “He’s deadpan.” Tain deflates. “We really won’t get anything.” “No, you won’t. You done?” “Yeah. It’s no fun without a reaction.” Malong crunches on an olive. “I wouldn’t say none. He got a little upset.” Tain sticks out his hand to Malong, and after staring at his palm, the latter claps his hand against it in a high-five. Tain shakes him off. “Not that. My key, genius?” “Oh. Haha... Right.”

Harry checks his phone again. Piu Piu didn’t turn on the voice feature that time either. Is she really still asleep?

“You’ve scrunched your face up like that's a wire tape,” Tain says. “Relax.” Harry doesn’t respond to that either. And his friends don’t mind that time. They chat amongst themselves once more. Which benefits him since his phone buzzes. He’s received another photo. Wasn’t Piu Piu looking into the matter? What’s happened? And more concerningly, what’s the image of? Flashbacks of yesterday shoot through his mind. Now is not the time. He’s before other people. Tain and Malong specifically, who’ll never let him live down anything he considers embarrassing. Yet, he opens the chat.

That time the photo is of her. Finally, he has a face to put to a name. And an exact visage to put to last night’s escapade. He’s transfixed. Feels heat creeping across his cheeks, and further, lower. He chastises himself for getting excited at all. He’s not a teenage boy encountering sensuality for the first time. The picture is innocent. She’s clothed and smiling. Yet his eyes roam over her, and his imagination wanders. He’s never been overly interested in provocative things, yet, now that he’s had a taste...

“Harry?” Tain calls. He nearly swears, as his friend tears apart his enthrallment. He locks his phone and flips it over as his friends home in on him. “What’s that expression for? Are you having love troubles?” Tain continues. “No. Why would I come to you two if I were?” He doesn’t like the analyzing look Tain gives him. Especially since the bartender leans back in his seat. “You know, I can’t help my suspicion. Did something happen to you? You’ve had a death grip on your phone all evening. Like to a fanatical degree.” He snags a bit of prosciutto. “Well, she was enjoyable to talk to for the few minutes I managed it.” “Be quiet. I warned you not to mention that again. Or did I punish you too lightly so you’re speaking as you please?” Tain blanches. “Hey, whoa. Relax, haha. What am I going to do? Jump into your phone? You’re the only one who can talk to that weirdo.” Tain rubs the back of his neck. “Besides, I already...” “Wait,” Malong interrupts. “Wait! You talked to her? Not fair. I want to too!” “That’s never happening.” “Wow. I’ve never seen him so sensitive about someone.” “Right?” Tain gestures at Harry. “It’s weird.” “And a little creepy.” “But interesting.” “When do we meet her?” “You won’t.” And he can’t either. Which is aggravating him suddenly since Tain and Malong are so persistent. Maybe if they’d met in person, she wouldn’t have been so brave as she had been the night prior. Thankfully, the buzz of his phone rescues him that time. It’s another photo. One similar to last night.

Harry surges to his feet and grabs his coat. Quick strides carry him towards the door. Will she call again? If so, he can’t be here.

“I’m leaving.” “What?” Malong gasps. “Why are you heading out so suddenly?” “Hey, read the room. He’s got his phone in his hand.” “Ooh. He’s ditching us for her?” “Goodbye.” Harry’s got the door in his palm when he says it. His coat’s on one arm and falling off the other shoulder. “Can that weirdo make him less of a jerk?” Tain grumbles. “Hey! Wear your coat right! It’s cold out there!”

***

Harry makes it home, but he can’t remember how. He registers only once he’s inside and dry, that half his coat and one arm of his sweater are damp from rain droplets. He shrugs the damp fabric and his coat onto the floor. Somebody else can clean it up. He’s seated on his bed with a fresh t-shirt in two minutes.

But a call never comes in.

So, he waits. Has some almond milk. Waits some more. Then waiting becomes pacing. Pacing becomes staring at his device. What’s happening? Why is his phone so quiet? Isn’t she calling? Who wouldn’t be awake by now? Forty-five minutes go by before he runs out of patience. He settles down and calls her. She’s barely spoken to him all day.

“What are you doing?” He demands. “Where are you?” “Hmm? Harry, are you okay? I just woke up and I’m still at home.” She pauses. “I was about to call you to say goodnight, but I didn’t know if you were home.” Her voice is completely fine. No, it’d be completely normal if she didn’t sound surprised. As if he didn’t just wait on her for the better part of an hour. A feeling he can’t name weighs on his chest, but he suffocates it.

“Just call,” he says. “I’ve answered your calls in many situations. You call me even when you shouldn’t, so why change now?” “I wasn’t sure it was welcome since you turned off I can see your voice?” “Tain and Malong shared nothing but nonsense. You wouldn’t have wanted to hear it.” She giggles. “I enjoy hearing anything about you. Regardless of what you’re doing.” He feels good hearing that. Fantastic even. His chest hurts a little less. No, a lot less. “But by that reply, I was correct. A call would’ve been unwelcome.” “I’d have answered it.” He waited all day, after all. “And what? Talked to me for a few seconds?” “Yes. Or longer. You always have some creative way of keeping me.” It’s a carefully constructed reply. A vague implication that could call back to the previous night without directly stating it, as well as any other time they’ve been on the phone longer than intended. So, it’s fair. It’s quiet on her end. He focuses heavily on her side.

“Harry.” His name has such a soothing inflection whenever she says it. It’s nice to hear after a long day. “Although I feel guilty doing this since I slept the day away, I’m still sleepy. So, have a good night. That’s all I wanted to say.” That’s it? No response? No reaction? He feels breathless. “Are you still there?” she asks. “Hello?” “I am. Goodnight. Feel better tomorrow.”

The call ends just like that. He drops his phone onto the mattress beside him and runs a hand through his hair.

Did she really hang up just like that? Was she obtuse on purpose? Was the opening too subtle? Usually, she takes the chances he provides. Maybe not all of them, but enough of them. No. He doesn’t have to wonder if she noticed or not. He can entice it out of her. With some experimentation, he can find out.

***

With that in mind, over the next few weeks, Harry doubles down on working out and caring for himself in ways she’s likely to comment on.

He shares more photos of him at the pool. Post-workout photos where he’s slightly dishevelled. Images where he doesn’t quite button up his shirt all the way. When he’s in his robe, lounging at home, he sends that too. It’s essentially a catalogue’s worth of photos of his clothed thighs, lap, waistline, and back in well-fitted dress pants and formal attire whenever he’s dressed up. He suffers a variety of events he’d never have agreed to just so sending them isn’t out of place.

And she’s blithe about the entire affair.

He knows he’s attractive and understands the underlying provocativeness of each image, yet her lighthearted indifference is of legendary degree. He works diligently for compliments and suggestive comments, yet never gets the exact gratifying response he wants. It’s maddening. Especially since throughout it, he discovers her attitude is deliberate, and he’s tripping over himself to get a reaction as intense as the night they shared. But that phone call really is a one-off. A fluke. Because she never phones again in that state.

An exasperating few months go by.

And so much of that time has been him pouring over all their messages. Rereading and reanalyzing their history before he falls asleep. Despite the rejection, she remained with him. They’ve been through highs and lows. He doesn’t know when it happened, but he’s greedier now. Now whenever he hears from her, no matter what she sends, there’s an ache for more of her time. More information. If they spend an hour talking, he wants five more. If she sends one message, he wonders why there isn’t a flood of them. No matter how indirect the invitation from him, she remains at a fixed distance. So, he changes his approach.

There’s a status quo regarding the images he’s sent. During breakfast, he sends a simple, virtually innocent photo with no ulterior motive. Piu Piu's off for the day, and Harry’s supposed to head out today. There’s a photoshoot he agreed to do with Rachel for wholly selfish purposes. The clothes are his weirdo’s favourite colour and the design is striking enough. How can it not elicit a response? His phone pings with a notification.

Oh, today’s photo is... simple, lol

She’s so sharp yet mischievous that it’s intoxicating. There are so many things he could type, but it’s already been so long. If he could have a true taste of satisfaction, how good would it be? If he could be close to her. She pulled him in last time. This time it’s his turn. He’s held on for months while sorting his complex feelings.

Simple? Were you hoping for something else? Hehe. If I tell you, will you send it to me? Yes.

He catches himself before he sends it. It’s taken months to build this momentum. He can’t spend it all at once. Especially not when he wants her to cave before he does. So, he erases it and writes something else.

That depends on what it is. I don’t have your address. I’d send it if I could. But would you even visit...?

He’s never worked so hard in his life for another person like this. Until when must he wait? Why is she so agonizingly patient?

I would. The second I have it. [System: /address blocked/] Her address message is blocked.

[System: /address blocked/] [System: /address blocked/]

So are the following two. To send it three times despite knowing about the system block is tenacious and charming. Harry laughs. He’s so delighted that it takes that long to realize his heart’s racing and his body’s warm.

What a shame. I still don’t have it. He sends it with glee and a wink emoji.

Ugh... So mean. I’m leaving.

He phones her immediately. There’s a click as she picks up.

“Don’t leave,” he says. “Where are you going?” “Away! Just away.” She’s adorable now that she’s flustered. He takes deep satisfaction in knowing he’ll be able to speak about whatever happens this time around. “So you know, I wasn’t going to answer this, Harry!” It feels nice to be told off. The guile she has when she’s collected is too effective. It makes him feel unbalanced. This situation is too much now. Can’t once become twice? No. Why stop at all? It’s better to do as they please.

“Stay with me,” he says. “. . .” Her breath shakes. “You don’t know what I’m going through, yet you say that? How can you share that so casually?” “Casual? There isn’t a second I’m not thinking about you.” He meant to hold on to his feelings, but it pours out. “I’m restraining myself so I won’t be obsessive over you.” There’s quiet. Yet, intrinsically, he feels what he shared wasn’t a mistake. Enough of the dance. Enough planning.

“...If you don’t actually care about me, then enough of this.” “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about you,” he counters. “I wouldn’t be like this.” “It’s not to the same degree.” “Is that what you see? In what way? Explain it to me.” “Harry, it’s not. It’s just...not.” she laments. “I don’t want to see you caring more about carrots and fish than me. Call me petty if you want.” “Then come here.” She’s shocked into silence. So he ends the call with a promise. “Find a way or I’ll go there.”

[sl-newsie]

Spelled (Carlos de Vil x Sanderson Daughter) Descendants 2- Ch. 13: Pushed Away

I must say, Jane really went all-out with the decorating committee. The ship is covered in Auradon blue and yellow banners, adding a vibrant tone to help lift my spirits. After I finish helping Tiffany with the hors d'oeuvres, it’s nearly dark and people are starting to arrive. Seeing the approaching crowd makes my pulse quicken and I pull my cloak on.

“Don’t worry, Magica,” Tiffany tries to assure me. “They won’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, like they did during Ben’s coronation? They might not burn me at the stake like a hundred years ago, but they will still cast me out like any other villain descendant.”

I leave her to do the last touches on the food and go to hide near the rear of the ship, staring off at the dim-lit Isle in the distance.

“Don't let them in, don't let them see.

Be the good girl you always have to be.”

I hold up my hand and let purple sparks bounce off into the sea.

“Conceal, don't feel, put on a show.

Make one wrong move and everyone will know.”

All my life I’ve had to hide, had everything taken. My father, my integrity, my true love. Is this all a test, a trial to see just how far I can bend? I’ve heard that good things come to those who wait, but for how long?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I nearly stumble overboard and turn to find a familiar feline. “Good to see you’ve stuck around, Binx. Seems like every time you show up is when I need you the most.”

He hops up on the railing. “Need an accomplice?”

“No, just someone to talk to.” 

“You should be lucky I don’t have a fear of water like most cats.” Binx looks down at the sea. “Be a shame if you fell.”

I give a sarcastic laugh. “Be better than sticking around here. So far the only thing keeping me here is because Mal needs my support. She’s going through the same thing I did and thinks she’ll never be able to handle being on the court.”

“What about Ben?”

“Don’t get me started. He talks of a better future and promises to let the VKs over to Auradon, but it’s seeming more and more like a political scheme. Ben’s changed so much… But then again so have I.”

Binx struts over and gives me a concerned look. “How’d it go with your mother?”

The past day’s events flash through my mind. “As good as it could, I guess. Aunt Winnie tried to take my powers, but I had some help. Don’t worry, they won’t be doing any more evil anytime soon.”

Now Binx gets an anxious look. “Magica… what did you do?”

I lazily flick more sparks off into the ocean. “You remember I practiced binding spells, right?”

It clicks. “Where are they now?”

“In a spellbook I’ve hidden back at the dorms. When I leave I’ll take it with me.”

After first Binx seems upset but then comes to terms with my decision. “With all things considered, that seems like a reasonable solution. I’m sure it was very hard on you.”

I stiffen and continue to stare off into the sunset. “Yes. But life isn’t easy. Right now I’ve got to forget about my family drama, swallow my pride and make it through tonight without starting another quarrel.”

After taking one last look at the sinking sun, I decide to go get this emotional roller coaster of a night over with.

Binx jumps down and follows. “You ready for this?”

I take a deep breath and nod. “Let’s go.”

The black cat sticks close to my feet and we make our way to the ship’s bow. By now everyone else has shown up, some already start to stare. Of course some like Tiffany, Jane, and Lonnie give me the thumbs-up, but most follow through with what I expected. 

“It’s the Sanderson witch!” Rosaline shrieks.

“Get away!”

“She’ll spell us again!”

“Fiend!”

“Enough!” Carlos shouts as he pushes through. “Magica is the kindest witch you will ever meet, and if you’re holding her family past against her then you’re the wicked ones!”

The other VKs show up too and push everyone away to give me space.

“Magica is here as an honorary guest on behalf of Ben and Mal,” Evie speaks sternly. “If you have any problem with it-” Her eyes flash. “Talk to me.”

No one seems to want to test her, so they grudgingly walk away.

“Thanks everyone,” I look around at the gathered friends, thankful for their acceptance and kindness. I give Carlos a look-over and smile. “Nice jacket, as always.”

Jane pulls me aside and keeps apologizing over and over. “Magica I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten to talk to you! You must think I’m a monster-!”

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” I hold my hands up. “Carlos is a lucky guy to have found someone like you.” I look over to where the VKs have started dancing, trying so hard to ignore Carlos’ cute smile. It feels like my insides are freezing and shattering into a million pieces. “I- I’m very happy for you two…” My voice starts to break and I use the trumpets announcing Mal’s appearance to sneak away off to the side.

Lumier steps out on the top platform and motions to the curtain. “The future Lady Mal.”

Mal steps out in- in all honesty, a dress that does not suit her. Seriously, another blue and yellow dress? It doesn’t match her purple hair, and it seems as if Mal’s trying so hard to fit in. As she descends the stairs people smile and stare, which leaves me confused. How is it that I’m a wicked witch, yet the daughter of Maleficent is welcomed with open arms?

Mal gets to the bottom and stands next to Evie, giving me a subtle look of trying to seem confident.

“How are you feeling?” Evie asks.

“Like I’m about to throw up.”

“Don’t worry, we’re right here with you.”

I dare to step closer and Binx circles around her dress. “We’re here too, Mal. Just let me know if you want me to hex anyone.”

She gives me a smirk and we all turn back to Lemire.  “King Benjamin.”

The future king steps out and walks down towards Mal, but- Something’s off… something’s wrong. Ben’s eyes aren’t seeing straight. It’s almost as if…

“Mal, I wish I had time to explain.” He looks back up, and the crowd gasps when we see a familiar pirate emerge. Uma? But… How's that possible? 

She hurries down the stairs in an aqua gown (where’d she get that?) and walks over to take Ben’s hand.

Ben gives Mal a blank look. “I’m sorry, it all happened so fast. Something happened to me when I was on the Isle with Uma. A connection.”

He talks as if the situation is normal, but I can tell Mal’s just as shocked as the rest of us.

“W- What are you saying?”

“I’m saying-”

“It was love!” Uma interrupts him. “I just… I just realized how alike Ben and are, you know?”

But Mal’s still not convinced. “Did you go back for her?”

“He didn’t have to. I dove through the barrier before it closed, and I’m an excellent swimmer, so…” Uma steps closer and takes Mal’s hands, almost coming off as sincere. “Mal, I just really wanna thank you. For everything.”

I swear if she smiles at me one more time I’m going to hex her so hard she never smiles again!

Music starts playing, which leads Ben to hold out a hand and begin dancing with Uma. 

“Not too thrilled I risked my life for him!” Carlos grumbles as he glares at the waltzing couple.

Mal continues to stare at them with tearing eyes, unsure what to do or say. My heart softens when I recognize how familiar this looks. I guess we’ve both lost our true love.

“We’re with you, Mal.” Lonnie puts a hand on Mal’s shoulder.

People keep staring, but some have begun to make accusations.

“Did you spell him, Sanderson?”

“She cursed him to fall in love with Uma!”

But I ignore them and push ahead to find Ben’s parents. They might know what’s going on.

“Did you know?” I ask Queen Belle.

Both parents shake their heads. “No. Did you?”

“No. This was a surprise for everyone. He won’t just walk away unscathed from this, right?”

The king’s eyes narrow at his son. “No.”

I walk back to the VKs, who are still glaring at the royal traitor. Uma spins around, giving all of us a cheesy grin.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jay whispers

When Mal passes by Ben’s parents they each offer their condolences.

“We’re so sorry. We had no idea.”

“I’m going to talk with him.”

Jane shakes her head and looks back at Ben. “This isn’t right. There has to be something to snap him out of this- oh!” She rushes up the stairs. “Lumier! Unveil the gift, they need to see it!” Lumier seems to understand her plan and silences everyone for an announcement. “And now, the unveiling of young Ben’s masterpiece, designed especially for his lady.”

And I got a feeling it ain’t Uma!

At the top of the stairs, a curtain is pulled away to reveal a magnificent stained glass portrait of Mal and Ben. Anyone looking at it can instantly tell a lot of thought and planning was put into it, which only proves against Ben’s new sporadic love for Uma.

Mal holds a hand to her chest and marvels at the portrait. “Ben did that?”

Evie takes her hand and smiles. “He loves you, the real you.”

“Told ya.”

But Uma seems to be having other thoughts.

“Cover that back up!” she demands as she storms over.

“I will not,” Lumier argues.

She hisses at him and then looks over at Ben. “Uh- Why don’t you tell everyone the present you have for me, Ben?”

The man in question still seems to be in a daze, and Uma’s words trigger him to get an idea. “I have an announcement! Uma will be joining the Court tonight, as my Lady.”

My jaw drops. That lying, no-good son of a witch!

His dad approaches with a warning glare. “Son-” 

“Not NOW, Dad!” Ben yells, but seems to swagger a bit. Something’s definitely wrong!

“So as my gift, to her, I’m bringing down the barrier once and for all!”

People approach me with sinister looks.

“It’s you! You wanted this, and now you’ve got it!”

“You spelled Ben!”

I keep shaking my head as they back me against the railing. “No… no! I never wanted it like this! VKs deserve justice, but not through cheating through magic!” In a desperate attempt I push through to where Ben is. “Snap out of it, Ben!”

But his glazed eyes look right through me. “Fairy Godmother, bring down the barrier!”

She gasps. “I most certainly will not!”

“I am your king!”

“Obey him!” Uma urges.

Mal seems to piece something together. “Ben’s been spelled!”

“Uma found your spellbook!” Evie guesses.

“Told you,” I scold. “I don’t have any antidote ready, so how are we supposed to stop this?”

Mal rushes forward and looks into Ben’s eyes.

“Ben, look at me.”

“No- look at me!” Uma fights back.

“Look at me.”

“You love me!”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes you do!”

Ben’s trying to fight the spell and decide who to look at, and Uma starts to get impatient.

“Bring down the barrier. Now!” She demands.

“I do not take orders from you!” Fairy Godmother reprimands her.

Uma then tries to get near Ben again but Binx and I block her path while giving off warning purple flames to allow Mal to speak with him.

“Ben, I never told you I loved you because I never thought that I was good enough. But that- that’s me! You’ve shown me everything we can be!”

She then leans in and brings her lips to his. Of course! The cliché true love’s kiss. At first Ben is reluctant, but then I see his eyes flash and return to normal.

“True love’s kiss,” Evie remarks with a smile. “Works every time.”

Uma sees her plan has failed and shoves me into a table, sending me to crumble to the ground.

“Magica!” Binx rushes over and nudges my head. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I grunt. “Just a little dented.”

“Ugh! Give it to me!” Uma makes one last attempt to wrestle the wand away from Fairy Godmother.

“Guards- size her!”

I scramble up off the floor and join Mal to chase Uma to the railing, stopping just before she threatens to jump off the edge. I see her pendant’s starting to glow, making me grow cautious of an oncoming attack.

“Uma! I know you- don’t let your pride get in the way of something you really want!” Mal pleads.

“Sometimes being good is hard. Sometimes life is hard,” I give Carlos a quick glance. “But sometimes you never know when the most unexpecting person can make you happy. Please, don’t do this!”

Uma seems to want to believe us, but gives in to her ego and leaps into the water. Now everyone decides to dash over and look down. What are you up to Uma…? All we can see is her glowing pendant, until a group of tentacles rise and cause a wave of water to crash down on the boat, soaking everyone. A giant Uma rises from the waves and shows off her strength.

“True love’s kiss won’t defeat this. The world will know my name!”

I’m about to summon a broom and prepare to fight her, but Mal stops me.

“No, Magica. This is between me and Uma.”

Mal’s eyes start to glow green, and I can already tell what’s about to happen.

“Keep away from her! Give her space!”

Uma knows too, and she spreads her arms out in a ‘come at me’ gesture. A purple smoke engulfs Mal, and from it flies a violet and green dragon. Just like her mother.

“Oh my God- she’s a dragon?” Rosaline gasps.

Dragon Mal flaps her wings and ascends into the air, baring her teeth and growling at Uma. But the sea witch’s daughter isn’t amused and flicks a tentacle at her. It goes back and forth, and I understand why because Mal doesn’t want to hurt her.

“We gotta do something!” I look over at the VKs. “How can we help?” 

Ben’s getting frustrated too and lets out a giant roar. Hastily, he hands over his crown and waistcoat, then heads towards the edge.

“Ben- what are you doing-!?” I shout just before he dives in.

He resurfaces and swims closer to the fight.

“Mal, Uma! Stop fighting now!”

Uma cackles at his pathetic pleas. “Or what? You gonna splash me?”

“It doesn’t have to be like this! We have to listen and respect each other! We’ve got to be brave enough to try! Uma, help me make a difference!”

Mal sees that Ben wants to stop the violence and backs off, allowing Uma to have a change of heart.

“Uma, please,” I try to appeal to her. “There’s more to life than power. I swear we will let kids off the Isle. We will make this right!”

Uma gets a melancholy look and shakes her head, then holds out a tentacle to hand Ben something: his ring. Without a word, she slips back into the sea.

Ben looks around and sighs in defeat, swimming back to the ship. After Ben climbs up, dragon Mal sets down and more purple smoke appears, turning her back to normal. And also wearing a new purple dress similar to the one in Ben’s stained window! She gives a wave to Ben and comes down the stairs.

“Did not know I could do that,” Mal mutters.

“That makes two of us,” Evie replies as she finishes dusting the embers off of Mal’s dress.

“Transformation magic! Mal, do you realize how hard that is?” I gawk.

She gets an embarrassed smile and shrugs. “Um, I’ve been growing through power spurts.”

Mal goes to say more but stops when Ben walks over, completely dripping wet. They join hands and share another kiss.

“Ok ok- that’s enough,” Carlos jokes as we all smile at the happy couple.

“I owe you guys so much!” Ben smiles at us.

“Yeah.”

“Just a little bit!”

“If there’s anything you need, anything I can do-” “Um, there is one thing,” Evie inputs. “I know a girl who would really love to come to Auradon. It’s Drusella’s daughter, Dizzy. She’s like a little sister to me.”

“Then she should come.”

“Oh, ok! Actually- there’s a lot of kids who would like it here in Auradon. Could I maybe get you a list?”

Ben’s face lights up. “Yes, please!”

This means I can fulfill my promise!

 “Ben, I have some ideas for-” 

But I’m blocked out by Evie’s chatter and Ben turns away to answer some questions from reporters. I thought he-? They go on to talk more about Evie’s suggestions, and I’m left alone as everyone crowds around the dance floor.

I thought he understood. I told Ben how much this means to me, yet here I am swept under the rug? No one, not even Jane or Lonnie, thinks to come ask me.

A guard walks up to Mal and hands her a familiar book. “Uma had your spellbook below decks.”

“Careful with it, Mal. Make use of it wisely,” I warn lightly. 

“You know, this seems like it belongs with Fairy Godmother-”

As if on cue, the Headmistress pushes forward. “Yes, that’s me!”

Mal sheepishly hands over the spellbook. “This probably belongs in the museum…”

“Yes it does, and I’m gonna take it!” She swipes the book and scoots off.

When she leaves, Mal gives Ben a playful splash. He returns the splash, leading to one big splash fight. Everyone has a good time and starts dancing, but the cheerful atmosphere only makes me question my situation even further. 

Torn away from my father, falsely shunned as a wicked witch, deprived of my true love, and now I’ve had my very ambition discredited? I thought he understood… I thought they all understood. I know Ben’s changed since we were young, but never in my deepest imagination did I ever think he’d forget about me like this. Even after he made me his Royal Advisor… 

“I saw what happened,” Binx says softly from behind. “You have every right to be upset, and… if you really need to talk to him-”

“No,” I state sharply. “He chose this. To be Auradon’s poster boy for being good. Maybe a long time ago he did want me to be seen with him, but now-” I huff. “All he wants is Mal. I told him how important bringing down the barrier is to me, yet he tossed me aside. But my days of holding onto the past are over. Let him be Mal’s darling husband, her perfect pawn. I’m no longer going to have dreams of becoming involved in Auradon’s corrupt court.”

Purple flames rage from my hands and up above the sky starts flashing lightning, warning me that I should leave before I cause anything I might regret. I pivot and find Carlos’ face in the crowd, having the time of his time with Jane. Choking down a snarl, I storm off through the oblivious crowd, my boiling emotions tearing me apart and spilling angry tears down my pale face.

I thought they understood.

[santacarlatourism]

summer break for vigilantes - pt. 2, dime a dozen

Rating: Mature Pairing: Poly Lost Boys x (Nonbinary) Reader Word Count: 2.8k See [pt. 1] for fic warnings and summary. [Previous Part] [Next Part]

Saturday. The clock read 1:22 P.M. Y/N groaned, sitting up as the sunlight poured in through their windows. They’d left the blinds open last night, it seemed, a poor choice on their part.

Slowly the events of the previous night returned to them. Michelle and Eric were getting a bit… frisky. And at the very least they had the decency not to sexile Y/N from the apartment so shortly after moving in, so the two dropped Y/N off before heading back to Eric’s. Getting up, Y/N grabbed their bathrobe and went across the hall to shower– then stopped, stepped back, and peered into the living room. Fuck, all that furniture hunting yesterday and they hadn’t found a bed for Michelle’s room. In the excitement Y/N hadn’t even realized. She was passed out on the couch. Maybe they could get Eric to go with them again today or tomorrow, if he wasn’t too busy.

Y/N enjoyed the relaxing shower and water pouring over their head. It wasn’t the biggest or nicest bathroom but damn, having passed out last night before they were able to hop in after a night out, the warm soap and water felt amazing.. “Hey, Y/N! Does this phone work?” They heard Michelle ask through the bathroom door.

Y/N frowned, a bit confused. “Yeah. Should be ready to go just like any of the other utilities,” They responded. When they didn’t hear anything more from Michelle, they shrugged it off and finished up their shower.

However, when they stepped out of the bathroom wrapped up in their robe, they noticed a very frustrated Michelle still by the phone. “Everything okay?”

She frowned. “Eric’s not picking up,” Michelle explained. “Fuck– Maybe I mixed up something in his number,” She said, muttering out what she thought was the right sequence with a disconcerted expression. The roommates’ copy of the phone book hadn’t come in yet to check.

“Or maybe he’s just still asleep?” Y/N suggested. “You two were up quite a while after I was in bed last night. I’d figured you’d just be staying the night at his place.”

“Well, I was going to,” Michelle admitted, “But Santa Carla’s a fucky place! Eric’s been living at his place for just a year now, and he’s already had two break in attempts. I didn’t want something weird to go on around here and my sheltered roomie have an aneurysm without me,” She said in a teasing tone, nudging Y/N.

They smiled at her. “Aww, you do care,” They teased. But they were well aware that Michelle cared. That was why Max’s warnings had largely been brushed off. Sure, they wouldn’t be shocked if maybe Michelle had lifted a tape from his store without paying in the past. But so far, she showed up for people she cared about where it counted.

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Do we have any food in the fridge?” She asked, putting the phone down and heading towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, stocked up Thursday before you got here. With my parents gone though, the fridge will look a bit more frugal next time we go shopping,” Y/N pointed out.

“Well, then, maybe we’ll have to have them visit,” Michelle teased.

Y/N rolled their eyes, then sighed and followed Michelle to the kitchen. “Hey, really, don’t worry about Eric, okay? Even if you forgot his number, I’m sure he’ll drive over when he doesn’t hear from you” They paused. “But we can drive down to his place this evening ourselves, if that’ll make you feel better.”

“Nah,” Michelle sighed. “I’m pretty sure he works tonight, so he wouldn’t be home. We can hit the boardwalk though. He works at one of those ten dollar piercing stands.”

“And he makes rent just with that?”

Michelle grinned. “Amongst other endeavors.”

 The two ventured out onto the boardwalk that night a bit after Michelle said Eric’s shift was supposed to start, arriving at nine o’clock. Y/N spotted the piercing booth that Michelle was leading them towards– but Eric wasn’t over there. Instead, it was a taller, burlier man with a long gray beard. “Hey, Jerry,” Michelle spoke up as they approached. He was cleaning up a girl’s freshly pierced ear and glanced up at the visitors, and nodded.

“Michelle, hey.”

“Where’s Eric?” She asked.

Jerry huffed, pulling away from the girl’s ear and sending her on her way with her brand new earrings. “Beats me. His shift started twenty minutes ago. I told him if he gets fucking high and makes me work noon to one in the morning again I’m firing his ass,” he said, motioning another girl into the chair. “So if you see him, tell him he better have a good fucking excuse.”

Michelle and Y/N glanced at each other, stepping away from the booth as Jerry resumed his work. “How often does he miss work?” Y/N asked, a pit forming in their gut.

“Not often– well, not anymore. When Jerry finally put his foot down, Eric took it pretty seriously. I don’t think he’s missed a day in two months,” Michelle said. The worry on Michelle’s face didn’t make Y/N feel any better. “It shouldn’t take long to get to his place at night when there’s not much traffic, if I take a cab. Can you stay here and wait, in case he’s just running late to work or something?”

Y/N nodded. “Maybe he’s just sick. I’ll meet you back here at the stand in an hour?” They offered. Michelle nodded, gave a shaky smile, and headed off. They sighed, looking down and shaking their head. Hopefully he was just sick, or had gotten a bit too high and lost track of time. As they turned and took a step, they nearly crashed into someone.

“Shit, sorry. I keep doing that,” Y/N apologized. “Guess I’m not used to how crowded this place gets yet.”

“It’s all right,” The young woman responded. She looked about the same age as Y/N. “You look like you have a lot on your mind.

“Yeah, just… roommate troubles,” There was no reason to divulge the details to a total stranger.

The young woman nodded. “I’ve certainly had plenty of those,” she said, then paused, as if remembering something, or feeling some sort of guilt for talking poorly of her roommates. The young woman introduced herself as Star, and Y/N followed

“You from around here?” Y/N liked her outfit, but at the same time, her appearance was very different from a lot of the people they’d noticed in Santa Carla thus far.

“I’ve been here for a bit now,” Star responded. Fair enough. Star didn’t have any more reason to tell them her life story than Y/N had to tell her theirs.

That was when four bikes drove up. “Star,” A familiar voice said. The blonde, from the previous day. “Made a friend.”

Star glanced to Y/N, silent. “Maybe she did,” they answered. They didn’t want to presume to know Star’s relationship to these guys, but based on her reaction something about them clearly made her uncomfortable. And Star’s discomfort made Y/N feel a bit more bold than they had felt the day before.

David nodded a little, looking Y/N over. His thoughts were indiscernible from his expression. “I don’t believe we got to introduce ourselves yesterday.” He hopped off his bike, kicking his stand up, and stepped over to Y/N, just a tad closer than what would have felt innocent and friendly. “I’m David. Paul, Dwayne, Marko,” Each boy gestured with a wave, a nod, or a finger gun in turn.

A beat. “And your name?”

“Y/N.”

“A bit dark to be out all by yourself on a Saturday night, Y/N.” David said. “A girl like yourself could get in a lot of trouble out here,” He stepped another step closer.

Y/N looked up at him– though he only had two, maybe three inches on them with those heels– “I’m no girl,” They answered. Their arms crossed defensively, in a way that one might take as an attempt at intimidation or appearing more serious, but Y/N knew that it was more to try and increase the flattening of their binder.

David was silent for a moment, but then gave a nod, a small smile, stepping back. He seemed somewhat impressed by Y/N’s gumption– and so were they. They’d never actually said the words aloud before now. “No, I suppose you’re not.” He stepped back over to his bike and hopped on. “Come on, Star,” David said, attention turned towards the young woman. After a moment, she stepped over, hopping on the back of her bike.

“I’m sure we’ll see our new friend again soon,” David said, glancing at Y/N before revving his bike and driving off, the other three following in tow.

After the boys left, it wasn’t too terribly long a wait before Y/N was supposed to regroup with Michelle. So they grabbed a funnel cake and nibbled on it, trying to remain patient while also still thinking about David and his buddies. ‘I’m sure we’ll see our new friend again soon,’ Y/N repeated the line over in their head. Around the boardwalk? And was that simply an assessment they’d likely cross paths again… or more of a promise?

They looked up and saw Michelle headed their way under the multicolored flashing lights. And she didn’t look happy. Or annoyed. She looked upset. Y/N quickly stood up and put their food down, hurrying over to meet her. “Hey, Chelle. What happened?”

“He’s not at home!”

“What?”

“He’s not at home!” Michelle said, raising her voice. “I went over and his car wasn’t there and all the lights were off and I banged on the door and he wasn’t there!” She bit her lip and grabbed Y/N’s arms. “I know that he doesn’t have to tell me every fucking time he goes anywhere but this is different. He missed work– and I don’t think I misremembered his number; I think he just wasn’t there to answer it. This isn’t like him.”

“Okay. We’ll go by the police station, put in a missing person’s report, and they’ll find him.”

Michelle scoffed. “Yeah. They’ll find him. Sure,” She sighed. “At least they’ll give us the flyers to put up.” Y/N rolled their eyes and grabbed Michelle by the hand, dragging her to their car. Flyers were better than nothing.

 Admittedly, Y/N had hoped that the police would do a little more than just give them flyers. So the results did end up disappointing.

When they arrived, the officer whose desk they were taken to, an Officer McCleary, as the placard on his desk read, asked Michelle for information about Eric. Where he was last seen (dropping Michelle off), when (about three-thirty in the morning), what kind of car he drove (a brown 1979 Oldsmobile Cutlass), his height and weight and other attributes, and if she had a photo of him. Michelle fished out a wallet photo she had of the two of them together.

Michelle and Y/N were left alone amongst the hustle and bustle of the station as McCleary took the photo to the back. When he was gone, Michelle quickly reached across the desk and grabbed his phone book, pulling it over and frantically flipping through it. The fluorescent lights above flickered and the chatter of secretaries and patrolmen coming in and out could be heard. Y/N watched her, trying to appear more calm than they felt. Michelle was freaking out, so Y/N knew they needed to be the calm one and hold everything together.

After a moment Michelle looked up from the book. “I had his number right. I really did.”

Officer McCleary returned from the back with a stack of flyers and Michelle’s original photo atop the white pieces of paper. “We’ll keep an eye out for him. You can put these up around town.” Michelle moved the photo, showing clearly the enlarged photograph that had been placed in the center in black and white. “Busy places like the Boardwalk and grocery stores are probably your best bet. We’ll call you if we find out anything.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, grabbing the flyers and getting up. But Y/N leaned forward. “That’s it?”

McCleary leaned back in his swivel chair. “Listen, kid. Go down to the boardwalk to put up that flyer, and tell me how many you cover up with it. There’s probably an inch thick of our paper covering every telephone pole in town. People disappear in Santa Carla. Half the people we find are dead, and for every one person we find there’s probably fifteen or twenty we don’t. Do you know how many other people we’re looking for besides Mr. Eric Castle?”

He sighed, looking over the two. For a moment Y/N thought he was going to have some sympathy for what he likely perceived to be two scared and lonely girls. But he simply grabbed the staple gun off his desk and held it out, “You two can even take this staple gun, if you want, all right?”

Swallowing their pride, Y/N snatched it from his hands and followed Michelle out. “So, you were right,” They admitted as the two stepped out into the parking lot and into the cool night air. “Santa Carla P.D. is a total bust.”

Michelle sighed. “Come on. The boardwalk doesn’t close till one, We can get some of these hung up before they close.” She slid into the passenger’s seat of Y/N’s car.

The two drove back to the boardwalk to staple up the flyers. It was about eleven thirty when they got to work. Y/N carried the stack of flyers in one arm, using the opposite hand to hold each individual one up against the various walls and boards while Michelle stapled them up. The teenage crowd and parents with their kids were starting to trickle out, leaving the more adult and rabble-rousing crews about. The place was now much less crowded. Still, Y/N figured it would be good to have the flyers up for the opening of the amusement park tomorrow.

“Oh, hey, I’ll take one in there,” Y/N said, nodding to Max’s video store as they came upon it. They divided the flyers with Michelle so she could continue stapling, and went inside.

Max looked up from the computer system, and gave Y/N a smile. “Ah, back so soon! Enjoy that movie?”

“I haven’t really gotten a chance to watch it yet– but, actually, I was wondering if I could leave a few of these in here, if that’s all right with you,” Y/N showed him the flyers. “My roommates’ boyfriend. You remember, you saw him with us last night? He didn’t show up for work tonight, and his car wasn’t at home.”

Max pursed his lips. “I see… Yes, yes of course, you can leave a few of them here. I can’t promise they’ll do much good, though,” He admitted, taking his glasses off to polish them. “I’m afraid enough people disappear in Santa Carla that it’s become simply background noise. The police are far too inundated to really search for anyone, and I’m afraid most of the public has grown to, ah,” He replaced his glasses upon his face, “Share their sentiments.”

Y/N frowned. They should have figured as much, from the massive amount of flyers. It was likely everyone in town knew at least one person who’d vanished into thin air one day. “Still, I appreciate it,” They said, sitting the flyers down on the counter.

“Do you two have anyone to call in town if someone caused trouble for you two?” Max asked. “I remember you said you had only just moved out here.”

“Well… my parents are back home,” Y/N said, “So that’s a good bit out. I’m sure Michelle knows people around, though. She seems to go out quite a bit, be familiar with a lot of people who work along the boardwalk.”

Max nodded, “Well, in any case,” He wrote down a number on a piece of paper and slid it along the counter to Y/N. “My home phone number. If I’m not at work and you two find yourself in a pinch, don’t be afraid to call. A place like this can be rather rough for two young people living alone.”

With an appreciative smile, Y/N pocketed his phone number. “Thanks, sir. I appreciate it.”

He chuckled. “Oh, please. Simply Max will do.”

“Right. Max. Well, thanks,” Y/N nodded, stepping out to meet up with Michelle and finish up the task at hand before it got too late.

[voraciousvore]

The Half-Blood Giant (26/51)

Chapter 26: Kiss

After lunch, Pedro continued to meet with other human students. He started to feel depressed as he listened to their stories. A common pattern was emerging that he found troubling. Many of the students had not chosen voluntarily to attend the integration school, but rather were forced to by their parents. While some of these students had behavioral issues that the parents felt could be better handled at a giant school, where they couldn’t cause as much trouble, others were simply neglected or unwanted by their parents—tucked out of sight, out of mind, far away. 

These commonalities helped to explain the lower academic performance and attendance rates. Pedro observed that the students also failed to report issues or bring up their concerns to the giant adults, which was hardly surprising. That was why Pedro was hired to begin with, after all. He compiled a list to bring to the attention of the principal, for when he was done interviewing all the students. 

Pedro was relieved to hear that giants bullying humans at the school was minimal, although not unheard of. However, the giant students were generally respectful to their miniature peers and looked out for them. One issue he did observe was that some of the more timid humans, particularly those newer to the school, had trouble interacting with giants. They kept to themselves and struggled to get comfortable or make friends among the giant students. Pedro figured he would recommend that the school sponsor more events and extracurricular activities that encouraged giants and humans to intermingle. 

The school day eventually came to a close. Pedro was drained emotionally. He tended to get invested in the lives of the people around him and shared their pain. He was immediately refreshed with energy, however, when he spotted Ray strolling down the hall to come get him.  

“Ray!” he shouted to get the giant’s attention, waving his arm in a wide circle. Ray brightened as soon as he saw Pedro and kneeled down to collect him. Pedro enthusiastically hopped into his hand. 

“How was your first real day of work? How are you liking the job?” Ray queried as he walked home. 

“Oh, it’s great! Although… I feel bad for some of the human students. It sounds like many of them don’t want to go to school with giants. I can understand why. It must be scary for them,” Pedro answered. 

“Poor kids,” Ray remarked. He thought for a moment. “What made you want to work there? Weren’t you scared too?” 

Pedro blushed as his mind scrambled for a suitable answer. Should he tell the truth? He did want to tell Ray how he really felt about him, but he wasn’t sure how Ray would respond. “Well… to be honest… ever since I was a child, I fantasized about… living with giants.” He gulped. “It can be a little scary, but… being here is a dream come true for me.” The shade of red on his face darkened to the point where his entire head resembled a cherry. “Especially being… in you hand.” He gave Ray an earnest stare. 

Ray stopped in his tracks. “Really? You mean that?” Pedro nodded vigorously, not breaking eye contact. Ray’s heart melted. Pedro was just so darn cute. He brought his hands close to his face and gingerly stroked the side of Pedro’s face with his fingertip. “I’m very glad you’re here, Pedro,” he rumbled. For a moment, he was tempted to graze him with his lips with a soft kiss, maybe even run the tip of his tongue over his bare skin, nibble on his small delicate features and taste him. A sharp edge coursed through him as he realized he wanted to eat the man. A shiver doused his passion and he lowered his hands and continued to walk. 

Pedro didn’t appear to notice Ray’s inner conflict. He was too busy with the throbbing in his ears from his excited heartbeat and the warm softness of Ray’s palm encasing him. It really was like a dream; he was in heaven, floating on a cushioned cloud high above the ground. Yet, even better than a cloud, the platform was a huge hand that was alive and warm, gentle and compassionate, and belonged to a comely giant with a heart of gold. Ray walked up the steps to his house and went inside. He set Pedro down next to his things in the living room and left to go change out of his uniform.  

When he returned in his workout gear, Pedro was waiting for him in a light shirt and basketball shorts. “I want to work out too!” he announced, flexing his skinny arms. 

“Really?” Ray examined him curiously, tilting his head slightly. “You’re a bit small to use my weights, little guy.” 

Pedro laughed. “I did consider that. I was thinking you could just bring me something appropriate for my size that I could lift.” 

Ray pondered for a second. “I have an idea.” He wandered off and came back with a few paperclips and pencil erasers. He bent a paperclip into a straight line, cut it down to an appropriate length, and stabbed a chunk of eraser on each side. “Try this.” 

Pedro lifted the makeshift weight with a grunt. “That’ll work.” Ray nodded his approval and made a few more weights of different sizes. Once Pedro was all set up, Ray began his usual workout, stretching and warming up with some lighter dumbbells to get blood flowing to his muscles. He increased the weight and started working his shoulders, raising the weights above his head. He smiled when he noticed Pedro was copying his movements, doing the same exercises as him. 

“There’s plenty of exercises you can do without equipment too,” Ray informed him. He demonstrated several of them, including push-ups, sit-ups, planks, lunges, and squats. Pedro mirrored his movements, albeit with less form and grace, yet Ray was pleased with his effort. It brought him joy to have a mini workout buddy and to share his hobby with another person. He was having a lot of fun, more than when he did the exercises by himself. Pedro was out of shape compared to Ray, so he tired faster. Ray finished his workout while Pedro rested on his back, out of breath and sweating. 

A giant fist pounding on the door jolted Pedro out of his relaxed stupor. Ray set down his dumbbell on the carpet with a thump. “Who could that be?” he mumbled as he went to answer the door. Pedro watched, anxiety rising in his throat. For some reason, he felt a sense of foreboding. 

Ray opened the door to find an extremely fat, tall giant with greasy black hair standing on his porch. The man was unshaven and sloppy, with sweat stains on his tank top under his armpits and man boobs, and grease marks on his pants. He had beady eyes, a doughy face, rubbery lips, yellowed teeth, and a bulbous nose over a ratty black mustache. His limbs were covered in forests of dark hair. He was a beast of a man. 

“What do you want?” Ray asked, narrowing his eyes. Pedro had never heard Ray, who was normally sweet and gentle, sound so hostile and cold. His tone made the fine hairs on his skin stand on end. 

“What? Not happy to see your old man?” the corpulent giant responded with equal animosity. Pedro’s eyes widened with surprise, but when he took a second look, he could perceive the family resemblance between the slovenly fat man and his more presentable, clean-cut son. Ray didn’t answer, glaring at him instead. There was palpable tension between the two men. “Well? Ain’tcha gonna let your pop in? Or are ya gonna make me stand out here the whole time?” 

Ray begrudgingly stood to the side and allowed his father to enter. The portly man squeezed through the doorframe and waddled into the living room. The floor shook with each elephantine footstep. Pedro huddled up on the coffee table, frozen, unsure what to say or do. The giant didn’t see him initially and lumbered over to the couch. When he settled his enormous wide rear end into the cushion, the furniture groaned in protest. Pedro found himself level with the giant’s mammoth hairy gut, which was sticking out from under his strained shirt and nearly pushing into the coffee table. 

“What’s this about, Dad?” Ray questioned with a sigh. He remained standing, keeping his distance and folding his arms over his chest. His posture was rigid with impatience. 

“Aw, c’mon, son, don’t be like that,” his dad protested. “I just need a little cash is all. Work’s been slow lately.” 

“Don’t give me your bullshit. I’m not going to lend you money just to have you throw it away on drugs and gambling,” Ray retorted sharply. 

The fat giant leaned forward aggressively, making the couch creak louder under his weight. “Now, see here! What I do with money is none of yer goddamn business!” He slammed his meaty fist into the table for emphasis. The impact made the table shudder, knocking Pedro off his feet and forcing out of him a squeak of alarm. The sound distracted the giant from his tirade and made him look down. Pedro broke into a cold sweat under his gaze. 

“What the hell’s this?” he drawled. Before Pedro could react, thick strong fingers closed around him and the table dropped away beneath him. His vision swam with the rough movement, and he was hit with a nauseating funk of body odor, alcohol, and cigarettes. He shuddered as the giant’s face loomed over him. There was a shadow of familiarity with Ray’s mien, yet bloated and warped into something barely recognizable. His eyes had a dark blue tint to them, like ocean depths. Pedro didn’t want to find out what sea monsters lurked beneath the surface. 

“Don’t touch him!” Ray exclaimed, stepping towards his father. 

The other giant ignored his outburst. “A human! Great! Do you realize how much these are going for on the black market right now? We could make a fortune!” 

“Don’t you dare!” Ray yelled. “Give him back!” He attempted to reclaim Pedro, but his dad kept the human out of reach. Ray didn’t want the confrontation to turn physical, lest Pedro get crushed in his father’s big hairy fist. “Please, Dad,” he implored. 

His dad squinted at him suspiciously. “What’s he to you, anyway?” He rolled Pedro between his fingers, examining him. “He’s just a little thing.” Pedro shuddered as he felt rancid hot breath on his back. 

“He’s… special to me, Dad,” Ray answered quietly. Despite himself, his cheeks heated up. 

“Ugh,” his dad groaned in disgust. “What, is he your boyfriend or something?” His rough, sweaty hand tightened around Pedro, causing him to grimace.  

“S-s-something like that,” Ray stammered. Pedro’s elation at this confession was dampened by the unfortunate circumstances through which it transpired. Ray glanced down at Pedro, his beautiful blue eyes full of feeling. Pedro’s heart skipped a beat.  

“Hmph,” his father grunted. He continued to squish Pedro in his hand, refusing to release him. Pedro squirmed with discomfort but was incapable of dislodging himself from the giant’s tight grip. 

Ray slumped in defeat. He grabbed his wallet, pulled out a wad of cash, and shoved it into his dad’s pudgy palm. “Here,” he hissed. “Now give him back and get out of my sight, you piece of shit.” 

His father grinned and tossed Pedro high in the air in Ray’s direction. Pedro cried out as the world spun around him. Ray scrambled to catch him in a panic. “Thanks, son,” he said with a sardonic edge. “I assure you, this money will be well-spent!” He hauled himself to his feet with an exaggerated groan, stuffed the bills in his pants pocket, and waddled to the door. He stuffed his enormous bulk through the doorframe and slammed the door behind him. 

Ray exhaled with relief once he was gone. “I’m so sorry about that, Pedro. Are you okay?” He clutched him against his immense chest in a hug. 

“He didn’t hurt me,” Pedro murmured. “I was just frightened.” 

Ray sighed deeply. Pedro, pressed up to his prominent pecs, felt his chest expand and heard the air flowing through his capacious lungs. The sensation was soothing. “My dad is horrible. I’ve cut all ties with my family, but he still comes around begging for money every once in a while. Drives me nuts.” He gritted his teeth. “He’s been involved in criminal activity too. Honestly, his behavior is one of the reasons I became a cop. I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. I want nothing to do with him.” 

“Oh… I see.” Pedro snuggled up to Ray’s huge chest in his attempt to hug him back. Ray felt very warm, and suddenly became very self-conscious of the physicality of his own body, and how sweaty he was after lifting weights. 

“I need to shower,” he announced, mildly embarrassed. He pulled his hand away from his chest and carried Pedro over to the bathroom. 

“Hey, uh, Ray?” 

The giant glanced down. “What is it?” 

“When you said… I was special to you… what did you mean by that?” 

Ray brought Pedro up to his face and smiled. “Exactly what I said.” 

“A-and when your dad asked if I was your boyfriend… um… well, I mean, obviously we’re not, I know that… but um… uh… you know…” Pedro fiddled with his hands and averted his eyes. Words were failing him. He just needed to spit it out. Just say it. Why was it so hard? He cleared his throat. “Would you be interested in… dating?” He couldn’t look at Ray directly in the eyes—oh, those lovely, sky-blue eyes, that made Pedro feel like he was flying above the clouds, free as a bird… 

Pedro was suddenly enveloped with pleasant, gentle heat, a soft plushness that was slightly moist but overwhelmed his sensitive nerve endings with superlative pleasure. He looked up with surprise to see a giant pair of soft pink lips, as big as a sofa, kissing him, caressing his whole body lovingly. Ray’s mustache tickled his skin and he felt the giant’s warm breath flow over him. Pedro was stunned briefly before he threw himself into those lips with ardor, kissing and hugging and stroking them with the fire of his passion. Reality was better than any fantasy Pedro could conjure up in his mind. 

Ray pulled away slowly with a final stroke of his lips, exhaling softly. Pedro gazed upon him with his eyes full of sparkles, his face heated, his hair tousled, his whole body alive from Ray’s sensual touch. The giant smiled gently, and with a sonorous voice that made Pedro feel as if he would dissolve into a puddle, asked, “Did that answer your question?” 

Chapter 27

Chapter 1