#than i do when there is an 18 year old boy trying to hack the system right in front of me and ignoring everything i am saying to him

[fingertipsmp3]

The way I had to TA a class full of STEM bros on international women’s day 😭

[fairyysoup]

western nights

♫︎ western nights - ethel cain ♫︎

pairing(s): eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: You're on a road trip to nowhere. Eddie wants to get the hell out of dodge. It's a match made in heaven- if only it were, actually, heaven.

words: 13k

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, oral sex (f + m receiving), exhibitionism, light choking, spitting, eddie is 24, reader's age unspecified (over 21), illegal activities, theft, smoking, alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, bonnie & clyde type dynamic, mechanic!eddie, eddie's trying hard to be a good boy he's just got issues, pining, perv!reader, some slight dubcon/somno for a sec if you squint, there was only one bed, graphic depictions of violence, a drunk guy being nasty to both eddie and reader, bar fight, blood, arguments, angst, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, an overall janky relationship here, inspired by the song western nights by ethel cain

a/n: *slaps fic* this bad boy can be written with so many cold medicines in my head <3 ethel cain if you see this do NOT interact i have done zero justice to your song and also completely disregarded some key aspects of the themes of it lol this is loosely based at best

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

He’s never looked more beautiful on his Harley in the parking lot, breaking into the ATMs, sleeping naked when it gets too hot…

You’ve become something of a connoisseur of gas station coffee. 

You know which chains have the best. Love’s always has the best and freshest, with the most options of flavors. Pilot is usually a crapshoot, depending on what area of the country you’re in. Occasionally, if you can find it, Bodega doesn’t disappoint. And the worst, by far, is always Shell. Shell coffee, you think, must come directly from the sewers of whatever backwater town you’re trundling through.

You’re somewhere in Indiana, you guess, judging by the state-shaped keychains on the rotating rack next to the cash register. You grab a state map from a magazine stand and toss it in with the rest of your purchase. You were lucky to have found a Love’s so you could finally afford yourself some proper dark roast coffee; all the watered down arabica stuff you’ve been getting since Cleveland has only been making your head ache. 

“What’s the quickest way to Indianapolis?” You ask the dead-eyed attendant ringing you up, a 20-something year old guy with bags under his eyes and bad skin. 

He chews his licorice like a camel chews straw, staring up at you blankly. “I dunno. Never been.”

You look from him, to the map, and back. “Cool. What town is this?”

“Hawkins.” His bored-by-you attitude is overwhelming.

“Thanks so much for the help.” You afford the attendant a tight smile as you grab your bag of snacks and head out. It’s going to be a long night. 

The air outside is stifling, summer heat hanging in the muggy air like a fog. The humidity makes your hair stick uncomfortably to the back of your neck as you peel off your old green hunting jacket and tie it around your waist. You’ve parked your van under the fluorescent-lit gas pump overhang, providing the proper lighting for you to spread the map of Indiana across the hood and bend over it, using your full coffee as a paperweight. You rip open the singular Slim-Jim you could afford for dinner, and pore over it.

There’s commotion across the parking lot, which stirs you from your rumination over the map. You glance up; there are two guys loitering by a telephone booth in one corner of the lot, sharing a cigarette. Teenagers who have nowhere else to be on a Friday night, you suppose. Five yards away from them, a third crouches in front of a badly vandalized ATM, the cause of the commotion. He seems to be hacking at the wiring with a pocket knife.

You ignore it. So far, on this trip, you’ve seen far worse than a guy stealing petty cash from a gas station ATM. Tracing your fingers across the paper, it looks like if you take state route 13 to I-69, you’ll be in Indianapolis by midnight. Shouldn’t be too difficult, as long as you can find the 13, and then you can find a place to crash in the city.

Grabbing an old highlighter from your pocket, you mark your route in bright pink. The guy from the ATM seems to have gotten what he wanted, moving quickly across the parking lot with his head held high, like he has every right to be there. He approaches a motorcycle parked on the opposite side of the pump from you, and begins feeding dollar bills into the machine. 

“Hey, do you know how to get to the 13 from here?” You can’t see much more than his leather-clad shoulder and hip jutting out from around the pump, the front tire of his Harley sticking out from behind his leg.

There’s a pause, and then his head pops out from around the pump. A curtain of unruly dark hair frames a long neck, big doe-like eyes and flushed lips pouting at you in confusion. It makes you freeze. “Sorry?”

“I, uh-” What were you trying to do? Get on the right course. Right. Of course. “State- uh- state route 13? I’m trying to get to, um, Indianapolis?” You cringe at your own stuttering, nails digging into the paper before you. 

The man stares at you for a long time, dark eyes framed by thick, curling lashes sizing you up slowly. Then, he rounds the pump. “The highway’s just down the road- keep going west and you won’t miss it.” 

“Great, thanks.” You grab up your coffee and the map, crunching it between your tense fingers. He hasn’t moved, still leaning against the gas pump, arms crossed, staring at you. It makes you nervous, in more ways than one. 

“You won’t get far in that heap, though.”

You pause. Your knees threaten to wobble under you as you look up at him. Your hand is on the door, you could simply ignore him and get in, but something in his gaze makes you stop. Is that… genuine concern? Or is he just putting on a show for you? 

“What do you mean?” The heat of the coffee burns through the paper cup and torches your fingers.

“Well, your fender’s bashed in and, I dunno if you noticed, but you have a crack in your windshield,” he gestures at the long crack running horizontally across the glass, just above where your line of sight usually is. “Probably got a lot more shit wrong with it, too, I could hear you coming a mile up the road. Junkyard find?”

“Something like that.” More like, sat in your parents’ garage for so long that you took a chance on the fucked up radiator and bailed. “She’s good, though. She’ll get me another 80 miles, easy.”

“Are you only going 80 miles?” The guy questions, “Or are you going way past that and only doing the 80 miles tonight?”

If he wasn’t so pretty, with a note of flirtation in his voice, you’d be hesitant as hell to tell him. “The second one.” 

ATM guy sucks on his teeth, rocking back on heels that creak with the movement. Rubber soled work boots flash at you from beneath torn blue denim. “Dunno if I should let you go alone, then. You might bust your carburetor halfway there and be stranded.”

That puts alarm sirens in your head. You’d back away if your car wasn’t situated between the two of you. “Thanks, but, uh… I think I can handle myself.”

The teasing smile drops off his face quickly, replaced by a look of subtle desperation. “No, don’t get me wrong, I’m not- I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself. Obviously. Or you wouldn’t be trucking along by yourself through Nowheresville, Indiana,” he chuckles. “I just, ah… let me level with you?”

Your face screws up, but you lean your hip against the fender nearest you- the one that isn’t fucked up. What is it with this guy?

“I’m trying to jump ship. Anywhere’s better than here, but I really want to get to the west coast. I don’t know where you’re headed, but I’ve got my sights on San Francisco. And, uh, I have experience fixing cars, working in a garage,” he confesses. “But I don’t have a ride of my own- this isn’t even my bike, really. So, if you’re heading to the city, and you could use someone to make sure your car doesn’t kick it going over 75, I’m your man. Besides,” he bats his pretty lashes at you, his fingers fiddling with the end of his long hair as he brandishes a wad of ATM-stolen cash, “I have gas money.”

“You want to hitch a ride with me?”

“If you’re okay with it. Otherwise, I bid you fair and safe travels.” He bows dramatically, throwing his hand in the direction of the highway you’d asked about. “But if you ask me, I think you’d be doing both of us a favor in the long run if you let me come with. Just for insurance, y’know.”

“Insurance?” You parrot incredulously.

“Yeah,” he grins. He has dimples, a wide smile that stretches across his face and makes him even prettier than you can stand to look at directly. “Just insurance. No other reason.”

“Mhm,” you grunt, going over the positives and negatives in your head. 

Positives- your car is a piece of shit and you’re sure he’s right, you’re working on borrowed time and you’re less than halfway to your desired destination. Plus, he’s unfairly nice to look at. 

Negatives- you don’t know shit for fuck about him, other than the fact that he’s apparently trying to leave town and makes a hobby of breaking into ATMs. And, hell, even Ted Bundy was supposed to be charming and cute, at first. This guy could be a crazy ax murderer, could be a rapist, could be a junkie who’ll steal your car and leave you stranded, could be, could be-

“MUNSON!”

“Fuck.” ATM guy glances over his shoulder, then ducks quickly around the side of the gas pump as the station attendant comes storming out of the store. He crouches, pressing his hands to the glass window of the passenger’s side and peers through the cab at you on the other side with pleading eyes. “Can you get me a couple miles down the road, at least?” 

“What about your bike?” 

“Not my bike,” he tells you for a second time. “My buddy’ll pick it up when he hears about this, please.”  

The station attendant is making his way across the parking lot now, looking miffed. It’s clearly the most energy he’s put into anything today, but he isn’t moving very fast. 

You’ve made worse decisions in your life. You sigh. “Shit. Get in.” 

“Thank you, thank you.” He pops open the passengers door as you slide into the driver’s seat, tossing the crumpled up map in the back. You guess you’ve found a GPS, for the time being.

“Does my insurance have a name?” you ask as you peel out of the gas station. The attendant hovers by the pump you’d been occupying, looking lamely at the abandoned motorcycle in your rearview. 

“Eddie,” ATM guy says. A ring-clad hand lifts between you, hovering over the gear shift and waiting for your own to settle into it for a shake, “Eddie Munson.” 

You eye his outstretched hand, your stomach doing flips, but you’re unsure if it’s because of him or the very situation he’s just put you in. You lift your hand and bat his with your knuckles, a half-hearted acknowledgement without the formality. “Pleasure doing business with you, Eddie.” 

Eddie coughs, shifting up in his seat to peer behind you at the station. “Fuckin’ Keith. You can just drop me off at the next exit, it’s no biggie.” 

“Hm? I thought you were coming with me to Indianapolis, hot stuff.” 

Eddie whips his head around to look at you. “Seriously? You don’t- you don’t have to, I know it’s a big ask-” 

“You want me to change my mind?”

“Not particularly.” He sinks down in his seat again. “Guess I figured you think I’m more of a liability than anything.”

“I do, but I need all that cash you swiped from the ATM,” you hum with a snarky grin on your face. 

Eddie chuckles, wringing his hands in his lap. His knuckles tighten and relax beneath heavy steel rings. “Yeah, better I do it than you, huh?” There’s an awkward pause, and then he blurts, “Do you have any road music in this thing?” 

You reach forward and hit the volume button for the stereo. You’d been halfway through Danzig’s self titled album- Mother kicks in with the chorus. In the darkness, you don’t see the way Eddie’s eyes sparkle with adoration as he looks at you.

“I think you and I are gonna get along great, sweetheart.” 

You ignore how your thighs press in on themselves while you sip your coffee, and you turn onto highway 13, headed for Indianapolis.

When you step out of the bathroom in the motel room in Indianapolis, you find Eddie hunched over by the window, wearing nothing but a pair of blue plaid boxers. The chain on his wrist jingles as he smacks at the A/C unit beneath the drawn curtains.

“Everything okay?” You ask, pretty much knowing what the answer is. Your hair drips water down your back, but you can still feel the muggy summer heat in the room practically smothering your pores. 

“Damn Motel 6 A/C,” he grumbles as he gives it one last smack on the side, to no avail. “The unit’s broken, there’s gonna be no cool air in the room.”

“That’s okay, we can crack a window.” 

“In this part of the city?” Eddie scoffs, looking over at you. “Believe me, princess, I applaud your optimism- I would have just driven away from me there at the gas station, given the chance. But if we crack that window, we’re gonna get fucking robbed, first thing. Believe me.”

“I believe you,” you huff, clutching the itchy motel towel to your wet skin. Usually you would just pull on a tank and a pair of panties and call it a night, but there’s no such luck for you here. You have a backpack full of old, dirty clothes, and no clean underwear to speak of- you’ve been washing them in public bathroom sinks since Columbus. “Well, I’m just gonna sleep naked, then. You do what you’ve gotta do.” 

“What- you’re gonna- what?” Eddie blathers, sitting back on his heels. You stare at him for a second- he’s a vision of flushed skin and a cloud of brunette hair cascading over his shoulders. Knobbly knees stick up at awkward angles, hairy thighs disappear into the hem of his boxers drawn tight across his skin. Your eyes glance over the ominous bulge in the crotch of them, not willing to think about those parts of a man you barely know. “You really think- I mean- is that wise?”

“Are you gonna get frisky with me, Eddie?” You ask with a teasing voice. You’d learned enough about him on the way to the city- 24 years old, no prospects, big dreams, ran a D&D club in high school, worked in a garage to help pay the bills- that you’re fairly certain he’s a good enough guy to keep his hands to himself. You just enjoy watching his big eyes go rounder at the insinuation.

“No, of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Eddie looks mortified. He backtracks, “Unless- unless you wanted me to, I mean-” 

“Don’t overanalyze it,” you tell him mildly, turning your back to him to rifle through your bag. “We’re both adults, it’s hot, there’s one bed and we’re both paying for it. Something tells me you’ve done worse things than lay next to someone without clothes on.”

Eddie blows a long breath out of pursed lips, not moving from his seat on the floor. He doesn’t deny your accusation, just mutters, “You put so much faith in me, sweetheart.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” 

You drop the wet towel on the floor and round the bed to turn down the sheets. Eddie’s eyes trail you; you can feel them burning into your skin, lit by the dim yellow light on the bedside table. It takes a moment for him to finally move, a single trembling hand reaching up to swipe a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the table.

“You gonna sit there on the floor all night?” You muse as you lay back on the bed. It’s too fucking hot. The dampness from the shower hasn’t dried, but now it’s simply growing with the rate your body is perspiring. Your hair and skin stick to the white sheets, which feel pasty each time you move.

“Just getting my bearings,” Eddie says, his voice tight and hollow. “You smoke?”

“Not especially, but I won’t stop you.” 

The smell of tobacco hangs in the heavy air more potently than you expected. The humidity dampens the vapor, making it sting your nose and leech into your mouth, even though you’re not the one directly breathing it. It strikes you as devastatingly intimate- the thought that you might be breathing the smoke that’s already touched his lungs. 

“Do you mind if I strip down, too?” Eddie asks after a long time of deliberating as he smoked. “Not that- I mean, I don’t have any pajamas, so…”

“Do what you need to do, honey,” you murmur, repeating what you’d told him before. “We can find a laundromat in the morning. Maybe get you a change of clothes somewhere.”

“Right.” He doesn’t say much after that, but you listen to him rustling around, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray and flicking off the bedside light. 

He straightens up, silhouette looming in the blue-dark from the curtained window. You watch from the corner of your eye while his backlit form hooks its thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, and drops them.

He clambers onto the bed beside you, careful not to bump any part of you. You refuse to look at him, scanning the asbestos popcorn on the ceiling above you with an overabundance of scrutiny, willing yourself to focus on anything but Eddie’s beautiful body, especially what he has below the belt. It’s a bad idea, no go. You don’t want to see it, don’t even want to think about it- what it looks like, how big it is, how it curves, what kind of hair surrounds it, if any-

You’re thinking about it.

And you told him not to overanalyze it. To be calm about it. What a fucking joke.

“You know, I’m not as easy as I might seem,” you blurt out suddenly, unaware of why you even do. You mostly come off sounding like you’re trying to convince yourself of it.

Eddie’s head rustles against the pillow as he glances at you in the dark. “I don’t think you are.”

“Okay. Just- just making sure,” you stutter out. “All evidence to the contrary, and all.”

“I’m not expecting to get lucky with you,” he tells you honestly, a little flatly, like he’s afraid of any inflection in his voice betraying him. “You know, beyond the ride west.”

“Right.” 

“Right.” 

You both regress into silence. You think you’ve both said your piece on the matter. You might not trust Eddie, not entirely, but you at least know he’s not gonna try anything stupid if you let yourself fall asleep. You actually think that he’s asleep after so many minutes, until he opens his mouth again.

“It’s really fucking hot, isn’t it?” He croaks. His hands twitch by his sides, feet jammed under the downturned covers, but everything else bare to the open room, like you. His pinkie brushes yours, and he nearly smacks himself jerking his hand back toward his stomach.

“Yeah, it’s not… it’s not good.” You blink into the darkness. “Sorry, you must be regretting coming with me all this way.”

“Nah, not a chance.” He brushes it off, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “I’ve been itching to get out of there since I graduated. Feel kinda bad that I didn’t leave a note for my uncle, but it’s not the first time I’ve bailed on him. I can always call him from a pay phone. Kinda wish I had my guitar, though.” 

“You play guitar?” you ask dazedly. You don’t have a hard time imagining it, now that you think about it. He has that rocker look about him, the kind that could grace magazines and be on posters on teenage girls’ walls, if he played his cards right. If he got his lucky break.

“Yeah. Pretty good, too, I guess.” He sighs. There’s a wistfulness in it, like he’s reminiscing on something from his past. “It’s okay. I can pick up another one once I get to California. Dropped a mint on the one I had back home, but I guess Wayne can always pawn it. Maybe get himself a nicer place.”

You chuckle. “And you think I’m the optimist here.”

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Eddie scoffs, then deepens his voice quite suddenly. “Two optimists, both alike in dignity-”

A burst of laughter bubbles from your chest, making Eddie grin as you gesture at your bodies. “Or lack, thereof.”

“In fair Indianapolis, where we lay our scene.” He ends his recitation giggling, the flimsy bed frame jolting with the shaking of his chest. “Radiant Juliet, you never did tell me where your chariot is taking me.”

“I’m not sure, really,” you admit, mellowing your laughter into a quiet giggle. “I just wanted to leave home. I was suffocating there, I needed to get out. See what’s out there for me, if anything.”

“And have you seen much?”

“Not much,” you tell him quietly. “Mostly truck stops and shitty roadside attractions. But we’re in the midwest, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.” He lays his hand back down on the mattress beside you. 

You turn your body towards him, damp sheets clinging to your skin as you move. “California might not be such a bad idea.”

Eddie turns his head and glances at you, dark eyes finding you in the dim moonlight. “No? I’ll have to fix your car, then.”

“You do that, and I’ll make sure to get you where you’re going,” you whisper.

“Deal.” His eyes linger on your face, just inches away from his on the pillow. Flickering in the moonlight, two voids that hold all the stars in the night sky seem to take you in like you’re more beautiful than they could ever be.

This time, when your fingers brush, he doesn’t jerk away. This time, you don’t avert your eyes when you look down at his cock, but you sure do regret it when you don’t reach out to touch it.

He’s so pretty. You want to.

I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue, starting fights at the bar across the street like you do…

Your underwear and his come out of the dryer wrapped around each other. You spend a minute disentangling them, a small heap of clothes in a rolling laundry basket in front of you. The closest laundromat to the Motel 6 had been a five minute drive down the street. 

You’d woken up with your head on his chest, your arm draped across his bare stomach, despite how you’d fallen asleep barely touching him. As if your unconscious body had known more about your wants than you. His hand had been tangled in your hair, palm cradling your cheek and a bit of your neck, like his own unconscious wanted to keep you against him, too. 

The morning had been easy- the easiest it’s been since you hit the road. Eddie seems to have given you a sense of purpose you didn’t have before, driving around aimlessly, only stopping for fast food every once in a while when you remembered to eat something other than beef jerky and coffee. Once you had extracted yourself from his grip, you’d gone to buy him clothes from the resale store next to the motel. It wasn’t hard to find a plain black shirt and jeans, but used underwear was something you didn’t want to mess with. You’d brought it back to the motel, along with some food from the Waffle House across the way, and you ate cross legged on the bed while he showered and put on his new-ish clothes.

But now, you can’t stop feeling his hand cradling your head. His hot, sweaty skin against your arm. Your fingernails raking lightly through the trail of hair on his stomach, dragging through his pubic hair, your knuckles just barely brushing up the side of his length- thick, uncut, and so so pretty. Then, stopping nervously when you’d gotten too bold, fingers skimming over sensitive skin too close to his groin, and he’d twitched in his sleep.

You want him. You don’t even know him, and you want him so badly you can feel it even now, an aching blush between your legs turning into a dull throb when you so much as think about him. 

You toss all the freshly washed clothes into a plastic bag that you’d grabbed by the door to the laundromat, and haul it out to your van. He’d told you to meet him at the bar across the street when you were done, since he needed to make a few calls on their payphone- he’d even given you his weathered denim vest before he left.

“For insurance,” he winked. “Uh, don’t wash it, though… I stitched it by hand, it’ll fall apart.”

You don’t put it in with the clean clothes. It smells like smoke and alcohol and him, the edges frayed and yellowing a bit. You hold it in your lap for a second, plucking at the stringy bits around the arm holes. Maybe you can convince him to let you soak it in a sink somewhere, hand washed and dried carefully over a working A/C unit, wherever you can find one. You don’t know when he last washed the damn thing, if ever.

When you pull into the parking lot of the dive bar, and you clutch the denim vest in your hand as you step out of your van, something sharp prods your thumb. You hiss, slamming the car door shut and examining what it was. The sharp point of a pin on the vest- which reads Motörhead- had come loose and pricked your skin, which now threatens to ooze blood all over the aged denim.

“Fuck,” you murmur, bringing your thumb to your mouth as you lock the car. You struggle with the vest while you walk towards the door to the dive, trying to resituate the pin so it doesn’t go missing.

You find him loitering beside a billiards table, pool stick in hand, a cigarette in his mouth. When he sees you walk in, his eyes light up, and he nearly drops the stick prancing over to you. 

“Told ya I’d still be here- hey, you okay?” His grin turns very readily into a frown when he sees you sucking your thumb like a child. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” you mutter clumsily, “your pin just nicked me s’all.” 

“Oh, shit,” he curses, reaching for your hand. “Lemme see- no, let me see.” He forces your hand open when you try to close it, and scrutinizes the little pin prick as if it’s the worst battle wound he’s ever seen. “Should’a checked to make sure all the pins were right, this happens all the time. I’m so sorry, baby, my fault.”

Baby. Your brain tries to process it. He called you baby. 

He’s also kissing your thumb, cradling your hand with excessive care. He’s tasting your blood, sucking a little on the pin prick like you had been, so your skin is wet with a mix of his and your spit. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of the way he touches you. Fleeting as his touches have been, anyways. You melt a little under his gaze as his round eyes blink up at you innocently.

“S’okay,” you tell him with a wobbly smile. “Did you make your calls?”

He looks at you softly, a reserved smile on his face. “I did. Wayne’s miffed, but he’ll live. Told him I’d send him a postcard.”

You giggle at that, thinking you’d sign it along with him. Sorry for stealing away your nephew; it will happen again. “Good. Buy me a drink, handsome?”

Eddie beams at you, and his dimples crease his cheeks as he turns to the bartender. There’s a sweet, boyish manner in the way he puffs out his chest and orders you a drink, his arm circling your waist as he moves you smoothly toward the bar. As soon as a whisky sour has been placed in front of you, he turns and squeezes your arm.

“Hey, I gotta finish this game,” he nods at the pool table he’d been stationed at. “I got some money on it. Y’okay with hanging out for a minute?” 

“Sure,” you chirp, sipping your drink. “Wipe the floor with ‘em for me?”

“It’s in the bag,” he whispers at you conspiratorially. You push his vest at him, imagining he wants to take his insurance back now that you know he’s not taking off on you, but he shakes his head. “No, you wear it. It’ll look good on you.” 

His eyes light up when you shrug the vest over your worn out white t-shirt. As you lift your drink, and he turns back to his game, you think you’d do anything to keep him looking at you like that.

Eddie wins. You don’t know how much he bet on the game, but there seems to be hurt feelings when he collects the money that had been placed on the table. You’ve never been much of a gambler, and he hadn’t struck you as one- but what do you know? He certainly bet on you getting him out of Hawkins, and you certainly took a chance on him. 

You don’t think much of it. It’s late afternoon- the sun’s going down, and you figure you’d better get going, but Eddie wraps his arms around you and says, “Dance with me.” And you do.

The jukebox in the corner only plays country classics. Patsy Cline croons over the speakers, taking you back to a time in your far off childhood. Eddie sways with you to the music, and even though there’s barely any rhythm to his dancing, you find yourself falling into it with him. Your head on his shoulder, his curly hair tickling the side of your face. His breath on your neck, cool on your heated skin. 

That is, until a hand wraps around Eddie’s shoulder and jerks him away from you. A man with blond hair, clearly a few too many drinks in, snarls at him, “That game was bullshit and you know it.”

Eddie blinks at him. “If by ‘bullshit’ you mean I beat you, then sure.”

“You di’int beat me, you cheated,” the man sneers. “I want my money back.” 

“Yeah, no.” Eddie claps the man on the shoulder, trying to push him away. “I won the game, I get the money. That’s how gambling works.” 

You step back when the man’s beady eyes fall on you, peering at him over Eddie’s shoulder. “What’re you lookin’ at?” 

“You leave her out of this, buddy,” Eddie growls dangerously, still forcing the man back with one strong hand on his shoulder. He’s trying to put himself between you and the man, you know. Still, you feel the need to fist your hand in the back of Eddie’s shirt and pull him away.

“I ain’t your buddy. Whatcha lookin’ at, bitch?” The man reaches out and yanks roughly on your arm, making you yelp in alarm.

And that’s when Eddie’s fist connects with the man’s jaw.

There’s a sickening crack. In the chaos, it somehow occurs to you that Eddie’s wearing all those chunky rings. You wonder if they could be considered a deadly weapon, in the same vein as brass knuckles.

It takes you a second to get through the initial shock, finding it hard to focus on who’s doing what. Eddie and the man have barrelled through a couple of tables, knocking over chairs. Eddie has the man pinned to the edge of the pool table, a flurry of fists moving from all sides. 

“You don’t touch my girl!” Eddie shouts at the man. “You don’t fuckin’ touch my girl!”  

His girl.

They tumble to the floor. The man curses and spits blood at him from a cut lip. A strong fist hits the side of Eddie’s face once, twice-

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” The words are shouted by the bartender, finally intervening, pulling the blond man off of Eddie. As the bartender restrains the unruly man, a second pulls an equally enraged Eddie away from him, separating the two. 

By the time you collect a bruised and bloodied Eddie into your arms, you’ve already tuned out the rest of the ruckus going on around you. Someone suggests that you should leave, but the words only barely register. You’re already pulling Eddie out the door and to the car.

You don’t even remember if you closed the tab.

Trouble’s always gonna find you, baby, but so will I. Crying only because I’m happy, hold me across every state line…

You don’t know when you started crying. Maybe it was around the time that Eddie fell unconscious.

Tears burn in your eyes like you’ve poured gasoline in them, but no matter how badly it stings you just keep sniffling and driving, tearing down the interstate away from Indianapolis, toward St. Louis. You hopped on I-70 as quickly as you could, and from there you’ve been lost in a world of your own.

He’d almost look peaceful, if it wasn’t for the blood on his jaw and the nasty shiner on his cheekbone. You keep telling yourself it’s not bad enough for him to need to be taken to a hospital. You can’t afford to go to a hospital, and even if you could, you’d have to explain how he got in this condition. It’s a recipe for jail time. You know that. You know.  

You just want to keep him safe, that’s all. 

He hadn’t instigated the fight, not really. He’d just swung first. He was just defending you.

His girl.  

When it gets to be too much, you pull over. Headlights gleam bright and then pass by in the dark with a whoosh of air. You think you must have crossed over into Illinois by now, or you’re getting close to it. The traffic has lightened considerably. 

You rest your head against the steering wheel, taking deep breaths, but the tears keep coming in streams. A while ago, you had a mattress in the back of this van. That was before it started having problems, and it sat in your family’s garage for a year and a half. You should have put a mattress in it when you took off, but you weren’t thinking that far ahead. You were having a breakdown, something like you’re having now, only worse. It was a manic, get-away-or-die-there kind of breakdown. 

Breathe in. You’re not gonna die. Breathe out. He’s breathing.

Once Eddie cracks his eyes open, he flexes his jaw with a groan. You can tell he’s confused by the inquisitive noise he makes, but when he looks at you, all that disappears in a heartbeat.

“Hey, what’re you- oh, god. Sweetheart, don’t cry.”  

As if that doesn’t make you want to cry harder. His hand lands tentatively on your shoulder, stiff fingered but light in touch. He shuffles closer to you, pulling you against him to sob into his secondhand shirt. 

It’s pathetic, you’re sure of it. You feel pathetic, twisting the cheap cotton of his shirt in your hands and saturating it with tears, as he shushes you and soothes a hand over your hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his aching lips to your scalp in an attempt to calm you down. “We’ll be okay. I’m right here. What can I do?”

For some reason, the question makes you mad. “You don’t fucking fight,” you sob at him, the anger in your voice making him freeze. “You don’t- you don’t get into fights. I can deal with a lot of shit, Eddie Munson, but I can’t deal with that.”

“Okay, honey. Okay.”

“No fighting.” 

“No fighting,” he repeats affirmatively, petting your head. Then he adds, “No gambling.”

“No bars.”

“Well-”

“No bars.” 

“All right,” Eddie resigns, resting his chin on top of your head. Once you’ve stopped crying, from what he can feel, he tells you softly, “I’m not… I’m not like that, you know. I want you to know. I don’t fight, not usually.”

“You did.” 

“I did,” he agrees. “I just don’t like… I didn’t like him touching you. Disrespecting you like that- did he hurt you?”

“No,” you lie. The guy had yanked your arm a little too hard, your wrist still smarting a bit. Nothing near what Eddie had taken. “He hurt you, though.”

“I’ve had worse, trust me.” His tone is ominous, like you don’t really want to know the heavy details of it. “I’m not a fighter. Used to be if I saw danger, I’d just turn tail and run. I usually just take shit on the chin. But I never had anything to fight for before, really.”

You sniffle loudly, grossly. “I don’t want you to fight for me.”

“I’m gonna protect you, sweetheart. No matter what,” he insists. “Long as we’re together, I’m gonna do everything I can to protect you. Okay?”

Long as we’re together. Like you’re a couple, like you didn’t just meet by chance at a gas station a little more than 24 hours ago. Like you’re in love. 

His girl.  

“My dad’s in prison,” Eddie blurts out, raking a shaky hand through your hair. “He, uh… he was a fighter. And a thief. And a gambler. And a liar. He tried his best to make me be like him, but I don’t- I don’t wanna be like him.” Eddie sighs, a sad sound that rips through your already bleeding heart. “I thought maybe getting out of Hawkins would set me straight. Finally give me a chance to make something better of myself, prove I’m not like my old man. I tried, but after high school I got in some trouble, and Wayne had to sell my old van to pay for my bail. Now I’m here, and… Guess you just take yourself wherever you go, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you agree. Your fingers curve against his hip, squeezing the skin there. “So we have to try to change ourselves in the meantime, while we get where we’re going.”

Eddie breathes in, and it sounds an awful lot like a sniffle.

“Eddie. Are you crying?”

“No.” He is.

You lift your head with a wet, coughing chuckle at his futile attempt to hide it. You look up at him, your fingers tucking a lock of unruly, dark hair behind his ear. He’s staring back at you with glassy eyes, the tip of his nose gone red with the tears he’s holding back. He just barely flinches when your knuckles brush the bruise on his cheekbone.

“Hey, handsome,” you coo at him softly, your touch featherlight on his skin. He blinks, a tear dropping from his lashes. “I’m gonna get you cleaned up, okay?” 

“Okay.” His lip wobbles. “Let me hold you a little longer, first?”

“Of course, Eddie.” You fall into his grasping hands, yanking you to him like a child searching for the comfort of his favorite teddy bear. You’d let him hold you as long as he liked.

You wash his face in a dirty rest area just west of Terre Haute. In the middle of the night, no one is around to tell you not to, so you follow him into the men’s room and take your time wiping the blood from his jaw and his hands. You gingerly apply a bandage from your car’s console to his bruised cheek, while he sits in the front seat and brackets your hips with his knees.

He gazes up at you like a man seeing God.

The neighbors beat on the walls, while I'm face first in the bed. Show me how much I mean to you while I���m lying in these sheets undressed…

You sleep in the rest area that night, in the back of your van. No mattress, just your backs to the hard floor of the cab. With no A/C again, you shuck your clothes and spread a single white blanket over your bodies, more for modesty’s sake than anything else. Even though it’s unlikely that a cop is going to run you down in the middle of nowhere, you’d rather not get cited for public indecency. 

He holds you all night long, his arms around you and his chest against your back giving you peace, but he doesn’t touch you in any of the ways that you desperately want him to.

It takes the better part of a day to drive to St. Louis. Eddie swallows a couple tylenol for his face with his truck stop coffee and eggs, smiling softly at you from across a bright yellow plywood table in a cafeteria. From the look on his face, you doubt that he regrets the fight that gave him his wounds.

By the time your old van rattles up to another Motel 6 at the outskirts of the city, Eddie’s shaking his head. “The car’s not gonna take much more than this. I need to give it a good look, maybe borrow a tool kit and give it a tune up.”

“Whatever you say, magic man,” you muse at him. “Let’s just sleep in a real bed tonight, huh?”

His head tilted back, he looks at you sideways with a lopsided smile. You can tell his face is still hurting, but he puts on a brave face and bats his eyelashes at you. “Sounds good to me, princess.”

His touch lingers on you more, now, than it did yesterday. His fingers grazing your forearm as you open the glass door to the motel office, his hand hovering over your lower back as you sign for the room. His arm slung over your shoulder as he follows you down to the room, twirling the key around his finger. 

“You think the A/C will work this time?” He asks you lightheartedly as he turns the key in the lock.

“Only one way to find out,” you return with the same warmth in your voice. If you from two days ago could hear yourself, and that ooey-gooey note of lovesickness in your voice, your past self might keel over and die. When did this happen? 

You drop your bag of clothes on the bench by the bathroom door. Eddie bangs around the A/C unit a bit, until something starts whirring, and he makes a gleeful noise.

“It’s aliiiiive!” He announces dramatically, emulating Dr. Frankenstein. You giggle as he leaps toward you, practically throwing you onto the bed in excitement. “We have cool air. We can actually wear clothes to bed tonight.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, not even trying to hide your disappointment at the thought. The best part of your last two mornings has been waking up to his naked body beside yours, warm and soft and littered with tattoos that you just can’t stop looking at. 

You mean, I won’t get to wake up to your skin on mine tomorrow? I won’t be able to pretend like I’m not staring at your dick and imagining all the things I want to do to it? How will I be able to admire you for my own perverted gain?

You don’t even realize that you’re stroking your fingers across his bruised cheek until he leans into your touch. Then you take inventory of your current position- your back to the mattress, his body hovering over you, half covering you. Caging you in with his arms. His long hair creates a veil around your faces. 

When he blinks his eyes open at you, you can tell where his mind is before he opens his mouth. “Did we have our first fight yesterday?”

You frown, a puff of air exiting your nose. “No, I think I’d call it laying ground rules.”  

“Ground rules,” Eddie nods, his sore cheek rubbing against your hand. You’re starting to wonder if he likes the pain, since he won’t stop pushing into it. “I’m not great at remembering rules. What were they, again?”

“No fighting.”

“Right, and no gambling.”

“No bars.”

He squints. “Is that one still up for negotiation, or…?” He trails off, giggling as you smack your hand lightly against his shoulder. “Kidding! I’m kidding. No bars. Got it.” 

“And that was it,” you tell him sweetly. “Unless there was another one you wanted to add?”

He stares at you for a long moment, his fingers twirling in the hair right beside your ear as he gets lost in thought. Say what you’re thinking, your mind practically screams at him. Please, god, say what we’re both thinking…

Eddie licks his lips and finally says, “No sleeping with clothes on?”

Gotcha. A creeping smile stretches your face, trying to play coy even when your heart’s beating a mile a minute. Eddie’s eyebrows raise at you, waiting for an answer. 

“I’m not easy, Eddie.”

“I know,” he tells you, mirroring your smile. “I don’t expect to get lucky with you.”

“I know,” you hum. Your hand drifts up the side of his torso, a more firm and languorous touch than you’d previously been brave enough to give him. “But do you want to?”

Eddie shudders, and it’s the first honest to god evidence you have that you turn him on as much as he does you. The realization feels rapturous. 

“God, yes.”

He kisses you then, open-mouthed and passionate, his hand cupping your jaw to keep you where he wants you. Your nails scratch up his back with a loud tearing sound against his shirt, and he chuckles as you frantically clutch at him with all your strength. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmurs, pecking your lips briefly before descending to bite at your jaw. “You’ve been wanting this since that first night. Feelin’ me up in the morning, like I wouldn’t notice…”

“I didn’t wanna wake you,” you hiccup as his hand cups the crotch of your jeans, rocking the meat of his palm firmly where you’re dying for friction. “Oh, ffffuck Eddie, m’sorry…”

“And here you were, thinking I was the pervert,” he grunts. “‘Least I can keep my hands to myself, hm?”

“I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry,” you babble at him, hands shaking as they grip onto his shoulders. Now that the aching throb between your legs is back, and he’s finally giving it attention, you can’t seem to come up with a more coherent sentence. Your face grows hot, but not at the fact that you’d been caught in your lechery- just because he turns you on more than you can think to admit.

“Don’t be sorry, sweet thing,” Eddie whispers. His dark eyes are lined up with yours, the curtain of his hair shielding them from reflecting any of the light from the desk lamp- it’s just you and the starry voids of space, locked in your own little world. He rubs his hand back and forth with practiced pressure against the front of your jeans, your hips kicking up against him. “I want you to touch me. Want you to do whatever you want with me, baby.” 

“Whatever I want?” Your fingers dragging up his lower back, under his shirt to feel the heat of his skin.

“Anything,” he insists, kissing you again. Wet and sloppy, teeth clacking as you grind up into his palm. Your thick denim jeans are about the most abominable things that have ever existed.

You feel like your head’s on sideways with how pent up you already are. “I want you to fuck me Eddie- jesus chr- can we do that? Right now? Please?” 

Eddie laughs. A happy, whole-hearted, almost disbelieving laugh. “Thought I was gonna be the one begging you, after all this…” His breath hitches, the touch of his hand leaving you so that he can push himself back. “Lemme get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

You nod quickly, earning a pleased hum from him. The way he undresses you is touched by reverence; his fingers slow as they drag the cotton of your shirt over your head, grazing your skin all the way. His lips dancing across your collarbone as he undoes the front of your stupid fucking jeans. You just want them off, done with and laying in a pile to be forgotten about by the motel room door, but Eddie has other plans. 

“Slow.” He grabs your hip to stop your wiggling, fingers curled around the back of the waistband of them as he pulls the denim down your thighs. “We’ve got all night, baby. I’m not leaving. Not going anywhere.” 

“I want you,” you insist desperately, sounding like a broken record. Your distress is evident on your face, in the way you clench your thighs together to hide the obnoxious wet spot growing on your cotton panties. You wonder if he’d felt it when he was touching you over your jeans, if the heat and dampness had soaked through the denim as well. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“You have me, sweetheart,” Eddie ensures. “Don’t… I don’t want you to worry about it. M’gonna make sure there are no worries in that pretty head.” 

He yanks his t-shirt off, the one you’d bought him from the resale store. A cloud of frizzy, dark hair obscures his pretty face for half a second, the shirt landing on the floor somewhere off to the side, and then Eddie’s eyes find you again, grinning at you widely with pointed teeth.

You grab for him, your fingers looping around the chain that hangs from his neck. Tugging him down, you press a gentle kiss to his lips. Then to his sore jaw, where a tiny scab has formed on the right side of his chin. Then to his bruised cheek, where he flutters his eyes shut and groans softly at the brush of your lips. 

“My boy,” you whisper to him, and you don’t even know if he understands the significance of it to you. His girl. Your boy.  

Eddie smiles against your skin. He peppers kisses everywhere he can reach, down onto your chest, dragging his sharp teeth every once in a while just to hear you keen. You’re certain you’ve ruined your underwear now, feeling the wetness grow cool against your skin. 

What a fucking concept. Cool air. 

Eddie seems to have the same thought as you, as he slips his fingers beneath the white cotton and peels them down your legs. Strings of your arousal stick to the wet fabric, dropping off in thick tendrils onto the sheets below you as he groans lowly.

“Fuck,” Eddie curses, shaking his head in chastisement as he settles between your legs at the end of the bed. He tsks, “Just look at you, poor thing. Should’a said something to me, can’t have you going around like this.”

You shiver as he trails his mouth up the inside of your thigh. His day-old stubble scrapes your sensitive skin, making you break out in a cold sweat. “M’not- I didn’t want you to think-”

“That you’re easy?” He coos with a condescending smile. “No, honey. I know, you’re a good girl.” He nips at the widest part of your thigh, plush flesh indenting with the imprint of his teeth. “But I’m no good. You should know that, better than anyone. No good for you.”

Eddie’s tongue burns and soothes at the same time, leaving your brain a scrambled mess on the mattress beneath you. He gathers all of your collected arousal into his mouth, groaning like he’s been desperate to taste it all this time. “Been dreaming of this since I saw you, pretty girl.” 

Pulling your leg over his bare shoulder, he all but crushes you against his face, his sturdy hands wrapped around your hips to hold you still. Your back arched, your hips fully off the bed as he lifts your lower half into the air.

You choke out the first part of his name, your hands fisting in the comforter next to your head. There’s a twist of pleasure deep in your core that makes you whine far louder than necessary, a waterfall of words spilling from you before you can stop them, “Oh shit- Ed- I don’t- s’too good-”

“Too good?” Eddie snickers, eyes bright as he watches you from between your thighs. “Nothing's too good for you.” 

Then he spits onto your already soaked and swollen pussy. You sob, positively crying from the feeling of it, drenched and dripping along your sensitive flesh. Eddie spreads the wetness around with his tongue, and your cunt clamps down hard at the lewd squelch of it, the mortifying slurp of his lips closing down and sucking on your labia. 

“Oh fuck, what the fuck-” you whimper high to the ceiling, mouth hanging open in shock. 

You could have been doing this for days. He could have fucked you like this the first night, when you lay next to him, naked in the dark. Your body aches at the thought of being deprived of this longer than necessary.

“That’s it, baby, just stay still. Let me ruin you, huh?” Eddie murmurs, letting your thigh rest heavy on his shoulder so that he can move one hand, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit in front of his face. He watches your cunt glisten and throb for him, listening to your desperate sobs echo through the otherwise silent room, and whispers, “Shit. Like my own little fuckin’ pornstar, sweetheart.” 

Normally, you wouldn’t exactly take that as a compliment- but with the way he says it, with his voice thick and dark like that, and with the way the hot, slick velvet of his tongue dips into your channel and shoots electricity along your skin, you figure he must have meant it like one. 

He goes slow, thrusting into you gently, taking his time to get familiar between your legs. Still, it doesn’t stop you from positively shrieking toward the ceiling when he licks you from hole to clit, the entire expanse of his tongue sweeping along nerve endings that are charged like live wires. 

Eddie chuckles, hot breath spilling out over your feverish skin, and he pauses there. Lets you feel the warm press of his flattened tongue before he just barely rubs it back and forth, back and forth-

“Eddie-!?” You gasp, an erotically loud moan spilling out of your mouth right before you come all over his. You crumble, your hips threatening to buck out of his steady grip as searing euphoria rips through you. He scrambles, ringed fingers locking tight enough on your waist to bruise, keeping you against him as you thrash wildly. 

He keeps you like that for a long time, purring into your spasming pussy while an array of unhinged noises pour from your body- your mouth, your hands tearing at the sheets and at your head, your cunt and all its wet filth drenching Eddie’s bruised face. 

If it hurts him, he doesn’t let on. He just keeps going, and going.

Until something pounds against the wall behind your head. You hiccup, your dazed, post-orgasm brain unable to comprehend where the sound is coming from. That wasn’t- couldn’t have been me…

“Pretty sounds,” Eddie giggles as he finally pulls his mouth away from you. “Guess the neighbors agree.”

“Oh, god.” Your hands cover your face, hot and sticky with sweat. Your eyes feel heavy, fuck-drunk, your heart still pounding in your chest from the adrenaline of the orgasm Eddie gave you. You feel embarrassed, like you ought to be going over to apologize to whatever sorry person happens to be sharing a wall with you, now.

Eddie has other plans. “Think we should give the audience a good show, huh?”

It’s merely a suggestion- you know that you could always find a way to quiet yourself, stuff your mouth with cotton and stifle your moans- but the implication of it makes your toes curl. Your breath rattles in your chest when you inhale. “You… you want everyone in the building to hear you fucking me?”

Eddie crowds you on the bed, your legs still slung over his shoulders so that you’re bent nearly in half. He’s still too fucking clothed for your liking- his leather belt digs into the back of your thighs as he presses a sloppy kiss to your dry lips. “I want everyone here to know you’re mine, sweetheart.”

Your hands cradle his face, pulling him in for a deeper kiss as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. Your over extended legs flop down onto the mattress, and you whine into his mouth as he massages his tongue with yours.

“I’m yours, Eddie,” you moan against his damp skin. “Oh god, I want it- want everyone to know.”

You take the initiative, with one last kiss turning in his grip. His hand slips, catching himself from toppling off the bed as you scoot onto your stomach, your knees planting on the mattress so that you can wiggle your hips up at him. 

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, smoothing a gentle palm over your ass before he kisses your lower back. He pauses, drawing soft kisses up your spine until his breath sweeps your shoulder blade. “You’re so beautiful. How’d I get so fucking lucky?”

A quiet keen is the only answer you give him, shoving your hips backward to get him to just fucking touch you, but he pulls away too quickly. There’s the clink of a belt buckle, a zipper being pulled, and you tense, your hand closing into a fist around the pillow at the head of the bed. Following the rustle of clothes, you hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper- you hadn’t even realized he had one. It didn’t even occur to you, in your dizzying need to fuck him, like some loveblind idiot.

You almost berate yourself for it, but then you feel his cock press against your entrance, and all those thoughts die away. He rolls his hips, and every single muscle in you tightens.

Eddie chokes on air as pleasure positively tears through you. Your eyes roll back, your mouth wide open and threatening to drool onto the pillow you’ve been shoved face-first into. 

“F-fuck, you’re so big.” It’s the only thing you can choke out around moans. He splits you so wide, dragging through your slick walls that are still so sensitive from your first orgasm. 

“Holy shi- oh my god-” he gasps behind you. “M’so sorry- I can’t- Feels so fucking good-”  

You groan, unable to form words to adequately answer him. All you can manage to do is jam your hips backward in an attempt to get him deeper, as far as he can fucking go inside you. Your body blazes, everything coming up smelling of sex and sweat as you wail hopelessly into the pillow.

Eddie snarls, a deep and dangerous noise in the back of his throat as he draws his hips back and presses into you again. There’s no time for you to adjust, each thrust a little more forceful than the last. His cock hits sharp heaven deep inside you, punching loud and guttural moans from you each time his hips impact your ass. 

“That’s a good girl- so ffffucking wet, goddamnit,” Eddie praises you through clenched teeth, ringed fingers and bruised knuckles wrapping loosely around your neck to lift your head from the pillow. “Let them hear all those pretty noises for me, baby.”

“Eddie…” You hiccup, your voice kicked up into a shrill whine. You swallow against the press of his fingers on your throat, holding your jaw into the air so there’s no place for your sounds to go but to the wall and through it. 

Above your head, the banging on the wall starts back up. Eddie drops your chin and slams his hand on top of the headboard, gripping tightly at plywood that threatens to hit the wall as he ruts into you. Your face hits the pillow again, but your sobbing moans still come out loud and disruptive as Eddie speeds up his hips in retaliation. 

“Doing so good f’me. Feel me, princess? So fucking deep,” Eddie groans. His cock licks up a sweet heat inside of you, and you know you’re going to come. He curses lowly, his hips pistoning into yours hard enough that you have to smack your hand into the headboard to keep from knocking into it. “Taking me so well. So perfect- s’like you were made for me, I know it, I just fucking know it…”

Eddie’s arm wraps around your waist from behind, and he hauls your back into his sweat-slick chest. You almost feel weightless, for a moment, before you’re settled back into his lap, your thighs bracketing his as he kneels beneath you, clutching you against him. 

A gasp tears from your mouth with a loud, “Shit!” His cock hits a different spot inside you, bursting color behind your closed eyelids as you throw your head back against his shoulder.

Eddie’s breath fans across your neck, sweat-damp hair tickling the side of your face. His hand greedily palms at your breasts, bouncing you in his lap as his tongue traces a wet line along your shoulder. 

“Just know you were made for me,” Eddie repeats quietly in your ear, his breath feeling like flames on your neck. “That’s why you found me, baby. You were meant to be mine, my girl.”

His girl.

“Yours, Eddie,” you blubber, reaching back to dig a fist into his hair as his hands squeeze your breasts. “M’all yours.”

“Yeah?” Eddie murmurs, his voice saccharine and velvety. He moans in your ear when your cunt clenches down, a threatening throb at the outskirts of your orgasm. “Say it again.”

A whimper, high and needy in your throat. “I’m yours. Your girl- oh, f-fuck, Eddie- I’m gonna-” 

“That’s right. My good girl. Only easy when it comes to me, right?” 

Eddie’s hand drags purposefully down, fingernails dragging just through your pubic hair, just barely grazing where you want him- just like you did to him, that first morning. The realization makes you seize up, all tense from head to toe. 

“What’s it like, when I do it to you? You like it?” He whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You suck in a sharp breath, a hiss through your teeth as you nod. His laugh is barely a ghost of a breath on your skin. “Yeah. I did, too.”

Eddie’s voice in your ear says, “Come for me,” and not even a fraction of you would deny him that.

His finger drags slowly your clit, calloused skin catching on the swollen bud, and you come. Your body slumps against him, and you’re so grateful for his arms around you to hold you through it. You’d swear he was splitting you in half with the sounds coming from your mouth. Your head tilted back on his shoulder, every breath is punctuated by a hoarse cry that breaks in your throat. Your hand clamps around his arm, which is still cradling you close to his chest as his own moans ring in your ear, his hips driving up into you as your cunt pulses around his cock. You know that he comes when his teeth wrap around the muscle of your shoulder and bite down.

Silence settles over your sweaty bodies, but thunderous banging is still furiously happening on the other side of the wall. You hear voices, words too muffled by the drywall to be intelligible, but they still sound angry.

Eddie won’t let you go, not yet. He’s clutching you, his mouth still wrapped around your shoulder, even though his teeth aren’t biting anymore. You pet his forearm, and lean forward just enough to knock lightly on the wall.

“We’re done!” Your voice cracks with the effort it takes to call out to the people on the other side.

“Fantastic show, my love. I think we deserve five stars.” Eddie laughs, nuzzling his face into your neck as he finally releases your shoulder from the trappings of his jaw. “I think I’m corrupting you, sweetheart.”

You hum, still petting his arm. “I think you already have, teddy.” 

Eddie freezes, his grip on your waist tightening just a little. “No one’s called me that since I was a kid.”

“What, teddy?” He nods. Your fingernails drag dully down his arm, tracing over a tattoo of a swarm of bats, which breaks out in goosebumps under your touch. “Is that… Can I call you that?”

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, you can- you can call me teddy.”

It’s quiet after that. He rocks you in his arms until you kiss his knuckles and lift yourself gingerly from his lap, earning a pacified grunt from him as his softened cock slides out of you. You watch him as he ties off the condom and tosses it in the wastebasket a few feet away, then flops backward onto the bed so that his head hits the pillows. 

You chuckle, sliding forward to run your hands along his stomach. “Honey, you still have your pants on.”

He hadn’t taken them completely off, only pushed them down far enough to free his cock and have at you. What’s more, he still has his boots on, too- big, black motorcycle things that nearly hang off the end of the bed. 

Eddie grunts dismissively. “C’n deal with it in the morning.”

“No sleeping with clothes on.”

He huffs petulantly, but the scowl he tries to give you turns into a lovesick grin pretty quick. He tucks his hand behind his head in mock-nonchalance. “Hey, pretty lady. You come here often?”

“Once or twice, so far.” You grin at him as he laughs, rolling your eyes as you move down the bed to finish undressing him. You untie his boots and let them fall with his jeans and boxers onto the floor at the end of the bed, glancing up at him once you’re finished.

His eyes are closed. You don’t think he’s sleeping yet, but he’s flushed, covered in sweat. He’s still so much of an enigma to you, but you adore him. You’re enamored with him. 

You crawl slowly up the length of his body, feline-like in your movements. You appraise his tattoos, smoothing your hands over them as you go. You lean down and press featherlight kisses across his beautiful, bruised face. 

Eddie cracks his eyes open at you with an inquisitive smirk, just barely puckering his lips to kiss you back when you land one on them. “Feeling me up again, sweetheart?” 

You hum, kissing his chest. “You’re hot.” It’s the only explanation you afford him. And once he’s shut his eyes again, you carefully move down his body, peppering kisses across his naked torso.

“What’re you-?” He twitches when you drag your tongue over his cock, still wet and salty with his cum. He groans as you slowly lift it, suckling on the head gently. “Oh… Sweetheart, m’not… I don’t think I can-”

“I’m just cleaning you up, teddy,” you tell him gently. “S’okay. You can go to sleep.”

He hums tiredly, his hand lifting to run through your hair, stroking tenderly against the back of your head. “My girl just can’t keep her hands off, huh?”

“Not a chance,” you tell him, giving him another slow lick. “You’re just too fucking pretty, Eds.”

“And you’re too fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie only really falls asleep after he comes again.

I’m never gonna leave you, baby, even if you lose what’s left of your mind…

A few days later, the car breaks down in Colorado Springs.

It had been acting up for a while, of course. Even though you enjoyed watching Eddie when he was bent over the open hood, bare arms sweaty and streaked with grease in the afternoon heat, you knew it ultimately wasn’t going to end well. 

Each time Eddie tinkered with it, more and more concerning things came to light. “One of your cylinders misfired,” he said one time, shaking his head. He’d insisted on driving it from that point on. Another, “The fucking spark plug has gone out. We have to get a new one.” That was $75 you didn’t have to spare.

You guess the car had just fucking had it when you got to Colorado. You went to start it up at a truck stop, and the whole thing just sputtered and coughed at you, and then you didn’t have an engine anymore.

After Eddie paced around and cursed about it for a couple minutes, you both crawled into the back of the van and locked the door. And now you sit cross-legged across from each other, with everything of value that you have to your name in a little pile in front of you.

When you left home, you’d saved up a couple thousand to live off of until you got somewhere you felt comfortable working and living in. Since then, you’ve squandered it on food and motels and gas, never staying put and now rambling along with Eddie.

From the ATM, Eddie had stolen around two thousand dollars. He’s in the same boat as you, now looking at only a couple hundred in between the two of you. Hardly enough to afford a hotel room or bus fare for the both of you. Certainly not enough to get you a new car, or even rent one.

He scrubs his hands down his face, dirty fingernails pressing into his skin. “You should take it.”

“What?” You squint at him. 

“There’s enough here for bus fare for you, at least,” Eddie murmurs, his fingers poking at the pile and scooting it toward you. “Getcha where you want to go. Get a nice job at a tourist shop in Vegas or Santa Monica or something.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie?” you snap. You swat his hand away from the pile, looking affronted. “I’m not taking the money, so cut it out. We’ll figure something else out.”

Eddie shakes his head, like he’s already made up his mind. “We had a deal. I fix your car, you take me with you. And I didn’t fix your car.”

“Yeah, but that was before…” you trail off, scrutinizing his expression. He won’t meet your gaze. He won’t look at you. 

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes like he’s a fish out of water. Then, he says bitingly, “Before we fucked?” 

You can feel all the emotion drain from your face, leaving you a blank, hollow screen with dead eyes just staring at him. It’s your best defense against bursting into tears at the very tone of his voice. 

When he glances at you, you can tell that he wants to take it back immediately. His teeth worry his bottom lip, ripping at chapped shreds of skin. “Don’t do me any favors, sweetheart.”

“It’s not a fucking favor- I thought we were doing this together.”

Eddie talks over you. “You don’t need to keep dragging me around with you, okay? You’re off the hook.”

“Eddie, you’re being mean,” you croak at him. Not exactly the quick, biting wit that you can usually whip out- he’s shocked you.

He drops his eyes, his hands squeezing his knees. “Yeeeah,” he grumbles, his fingers tapping sporadically against his denim jeans. “Well, I told you, I’m no good for you. You didn’t listen.”

You told me that while your tongue was in my pussy. The words are balanced on the edge of your teeth, but they won’t fall out. Your hands itch to reach out for him, grab his chin and force him to look at you, somehow. 

Instead, they snatch up the little bit of cash from your side of the pile in between you. You crumple it in your hand and shove the wad into your jacket pocket before you grab the strap of your weather-beaten backpack full of the last things you have to your name, and kick open the back door of the van. 

It’s summer, but it’s windy in Colorado. It must be something about the mountains, you guess, and it being early morning. Condensation hangs in the air, making the air both heavy and cool as you breathe. Funny- if you slept naked, you’d probably have to curl up into each other for warmth, for a change. 

You’re either vibrating from rage or from the abnormal chill in the air. Standing on the street corner with the gas station sign lit up in neon behind you, you kick the crosswalk pole with your dirty converse. You’re still arguing with him, in your head. We were in this together, motherfucker. I told you, I’m your girl. I put all my eggs in your basket. Whatever fucking martyr complex this is, you can shove it right up your stupid-

“I know.” Eddie’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist and pull you into his chest, his face buried in your hair as he whispers urgently into it. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

So, you weren’t arguing with him in your head. You were actually yelling everything you were thinking, and he chased you as you stormed off. Seems about par for the course. 

“Fuck you, Eddie, did it even mean anything to you?” you blather at him, your voice thick with impending tears. “‘Cause it meant something to me.”

“Course it did,” he rasps at you, his arms squeezing you to him so tight that you’re running out of air to breathe. “I didn’t- I was being shitty. I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave.”

“Then don’t push me away.” The tears collect in your lashes, finally dripping down your cheeks. You turn in his arms and whack your hand flat against his chest. “Don’t treat me like some slut, don’t- I didn’t sleep with you just because I wanted you to fix my fucking car, you jerk.”

“I don’t think that,” Eddie insists quietly, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “C’mon, now.”

“You said-”

“I know what I said,” he cuts you off. “And I didn’t mean it. I have a bad habit of throwing away the good things in my life, ‘cause… ‘cause of that martyr complex, you said-” He jams his tongue against the roof of his mouth when you hiccup, staring up at him with a wobbly lip. “Don’t let me throw you away. You’re the best thing I’ve ever had, ‘n I don’t wanna lose you just because I’m an idiot.”

You sigh, your head falling neatly into the crook of his neck like it’s meant to be there. He’s too quiet, holding you against him at the street corner. Eddie breathes in deep and kisses the side of your head longingly. 

“I can get us a car.”

You lift your head to look at him. He wears a disappointed expression. “But we don’t have any money.”

“It won’t take money,” Eddie mumbles as he strokes your back. “I, uh… I didn’t want to end up like my old man, but…” he shrugs, his eyes cast away from you. He chuckles sadly. “Nothin’ I can do about that, now, I guess. I mean, look how you met me.” 

Oh. You can infer what he means by the far-off look on his face, like he’s resigned himself to his fate. You lift your hands to cradle his face; the bruise on his cheekbone has faded to yellow, the scab on his chin almost healed. He’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“You’re a good man, Eddie,” you tell him sternly.

Eddie’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be too sure of that. You might change your mind.”

‘Cause you know I’ll be right there beside you, riding through all these western nights…

The sedan isn’t exactly flashy, or new. It’s a tin can on wheels that’ll crumble into bits if you so much as side-swipe a trash can. You keep a lookout as Eddie jimmies an unwound wire coat hanger between the glass window and the door, and a second later the door is unlocked.

You’re unnervingly calm. How did you get to be so calm about all this? Stealing money, driving getaway cars, stealing other cars when those ones don’t work. Suddenly an accomplice to whatever illegal shit has to happen for you to get where you’re going.

What’s worse, you think, is how badly the sight of him hotwiring the car turns you on. It’s practically horrifying the way your skin crawls and your core burns as you watch his hands fiddle with the wires beneath the console, so quick that your mind can barely process it. You’re not sure if the adrenaline in your veins is from looking to see if anyone’s coming, or if it’s because you want to jump his bones.

"I swear to you," he's saying as he swipes at frayed wires, "I swear, when we get to San Francisco, I'll never- I'm gonna get an honest, real fuckin' job, I'm not gonna do anything to hurt yo-"

The car starts, and you leap into the front seat without giving it any more thought. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He looks up at you, his brows tilted up expectantly. He’s still tucking wires back under the dashboard, preparing to take off once he gets the door shut.

“I slept with you because I’m falling in love with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide as moons, glittering in the light of a fluorescent floodlight at the corner of the dark parking lot. 

“You don’t have to love me back,” you tell him honestly. “I just wanted you to know. I’m with you. And I’m not gonna leave.”

You don’t know if he loves you back- not yet, anyways. He doesn’t say it to you. But he kisses you like he does.

I'll be screaming your name past the gas stations, trailing down the interstate. Please don’t love how I need you, and know that one day, you and I could be okay.

[gossipgirlgasoline]

gossip girl here, your one and only source into the ultra-rich, scandalous lives of race car drivers of formula 1.

hi loves! our first post!!!! ahhh!!!!! foremost, happy race week in australia! oscar piastri, daniel riccardo, and notably valtteri bottas’ home race, of course. its been such a hard week without racing hasn’t it?? i know it has been for me. thankfully, racing is back in melbourne for the weekend<3

before i start, if ur not into truly gossipy stuff— THIS IS NOT FOR YOU!! this will go into territory of wag gossip, silly rumours, and other cheesy stuff like that. you have been warned.

onto this weeks gossip !!!

everybody knows 18-year-old prodigy ollie bearman, who made his f1 debut with scuderia ferrari just two weeks ago in the scrupulous circuit that is the jeddah corniche circuit filling in for carlos sainz jr, sick from appendicitis. (hopefully this doesnt cause another chain of events like a certain driver whos number is 23, knock on wood) the academy driver started 11th on the grid and finished in the points, all the way to 7th, despite being such a hard circuit and also having very little experience with real formula 1 cars.

what not everybody knows about is his girlfriend, estelle— formerly silly_lettuce on all social media. truly, she is gorgeous. a picturesque couple, no?

estelle ogilvy langinier manning, (allegedly) is 21 years old law student out of london. the couple ‘hard launched’ from ollie’s instagram story a couple months ago. (picture is from his instagram) from the crumbs ive picked up from my dear friends on insta and tiktok, ollie is not the only racing driver she’s ever dated. ive been hearing through the grapevine that she dated f2 drivers zak o’sullivan since they were neighbours in the past and has also been with franco colapinto, confirmed(? texts could be fake) by herself through a message thread on instagram.

aside from racing drivers, there has been more rumors of her being with a guy from boy band, as well as a finance man.

with a simple instagram search of ‘sillylettuce,’ you will get a video credited to her old account with her alleged ‘finance boyfriend.’ this search will also get you this picture on the left, uploaded by downtown.chix in december of 2020.

left picture heaves largely compared to the right, taken from an archived picture from her now deactivated instagram account. 🫡

if we bring out search back around tiktok and do another search of silly lettuce, you’ll be met with a video from user sunnymonday on tiktok, going by the name india rawsthorn. the video is a trend from 2021 ‘rating my friends dance moves’

estelle earned herself a spot in the video, sporting a very different look than. 🤨🤨🤨🤨

this is estelle— India has many videos of estelle on her account

some people think its plastic surgery, maybe a drastic weight loss journey. whatever it might be, this isn’t the only thing that raises a couple eyebrows since thanks to the very intrigued people of the internet, we have since found out she started studying at durham uni in 2018. unless she is a young sheldon type prodigy who started college at 11, this would mean she is 24/25 now.

shortly after people started finding out, she ‘coincidentally’ got hacked. yikes!

*i can confirm this one is real— i saw it in real time😭

if you try to look her account on tiktok and instagram up now, nothing will pop up. mm.. following the discovery of her age, she immediately (allegedly) changed her information on linkedin. 🤔🤔🤔 how do you guys feel about this? i have a theory right here from one of my mutuals from twitter.

“Wooooww Estelle is really going down the road of saying that "we're obsessed"

her obsession is finding someone famous, and potentially rich to climb the social ladder of fame

I'm not trying to shame her about her plastic surgery, but it's obvious that some type of touchup was done and there's nothing wrong with that but I get the sense that she's trying to hide that she isn't all natural when in reality there has been something drastically done”

what’s your guy’s opinions? leave them below😘 my inbox is always open as well as my dms, so if u ever need to talk or want to chat about my posts, hmu! (tips are always accepted too)

until next time race-watchers, xoxo, gossipgirlgasoline

[mbrainspaz]

I'm at my wits end. The boss has hired two rich high school boys to stop me from working overtime. I haven't trained the second one yet but it sounds like I'm going to end up doing it because he's worked two days and the 'manager' hasn't bothered to show him how to lead a horse yet. High school boy no.1 is killing me. Every day I give him a task list and he just doesn't do it. I get back from my mandated break and ask him if he did anything and he's just like :) "No." The audacity of a straight cis white boy! First I told the 'manager' and he said 'yeah, I've had the same problem.' He did nothing about it as far as I can tell. He has zero backbone when it comes to confronting anybody so that wasn't surprising. I had a Talk with the boy and he seemed remorseful but continued to do a shitty job. So I told the corporate boss. She said she'd handle it ("And you still absolutely may NOT work ANY overtime! PEASANT!""I'm sure high school boy will give the horses water and food on time despite habitually failing to do that!"). You know what she did? She showed up an hour late, told the kid to drink water, and left again. e_o AAaaah?!

So I'm like—'this is why I need to work overtime, because shit isn't getting done.' And she's like, 'No :)' 'he's just a kid.'

NO SHIT?! YOU HIRED HIM THOUGH. He's not doing the job we need done.

And NOBODY CARES!

the audacity.

Can you imagine if I'd tried that as a 19 year old 'girl' at my first big barn job? Hell, I made maybe one mistake in the whole summer and that manager grilled me within an inch of my life. I gave one horse not enough hay, one time. He treated me like shit for the rest of the summer. This kid—rich boy—we stopped asking him to do hay for the horses because he was so intentionally incompetent We were like 'please give them more hay'

and he was like 'no :)'

f*ck

I asked him to clean all of 6 paddocks today and gave him 2 hours to do it. This time last year I was cleaning all 20 a day by myself in 2 hours. I think he cleaned maybe 2. GUESS WHO GETS TO CLEAN THE OTHER 18 ALONE IN 115 DEGREE HEAT TOMORROW?! Because nobody else is going to f*cking do it apparently.

Honestly I should just not. I should just stop working too. What the hell are they gonna do about it? Fire me for being the only person who's shown up for my shift on time and gotten chores done reliably all summer? Fire the only person who communicates with every part of the team and the clients? The only one who actually cares if the business is doing ok? You know they would! It's so stupid and universally ironic you KNOW it would happen to me.

They've already disciplined me repeatedly for trying too hard and caring too much.

And like yeah no sh*t the kid doesn't want to do actual work. The truck his parents bought him is worth more than the cumulative earnings I've made in this industry in the last 5 years. He's just doing this job because his mommy made him. After high school they'll get him a white collar job where he gets to 'manage money' for 100+K and he'll gleefully brag about what a hard worker he is because he had a job shoveling shit once and 'actually those jobs aren't so bad and poor people complain too much because really they deserve to suffer if they can't hack the system' like he did.

ugh. My whole life I'm going to live at the whims of utterly incompetent people who are richer, dumber, and meaner than me. I called my rich uncle for advice the other day and he said "you know really workers are only really productive for 40-60% of the workday." I LAUGHED MANIACALLY while actively doing the work of at least 2 people.

"average business person works 40-60% of the day" factoid actualy just statistical error. average business person works 0 hours per day. Texan Peasant, who lives at work & works for 200% of every day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

[dizzydancingdreamer]

I Need You | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! Here’s another Mikaelson Brother’s fic. This time it’s a firefighter AU. I don’t know why I was so inspired but oh well, here it is anyway. Please do ignore the blatant plot holes and dropped plot points. I wrote this purely for the fluff so the rest doesn’t matter too much! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Until next time, all my love!

Description: The brothers are firefighters and they come back to the station after a long day only to find an unconscious woman in their fire station. It turns out she’s their mate and she's seconds from death. From there it’s pure fluff/smut. Honestly the plot of this is weak, I just wanted something majorly fluffy.

Pairing: Female!Reader x The Mikaelson Boys

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! It’s not a full blown smut but it does get heated. It’s hella light smut. Honestly the warning should read something more like “inappropriate actions for on duty firefighters towards a civilian at the workplace”. Take into mind that I do not condone this behaviour outside of my fics but that they are soulmates and it’s all consensual! The other warning is angst. This is super graphic at the beginning but after that it gets better.  

Word count: 7.3k

Tags: Angst, smut, fluff

P.S. This is only in the boys’ perspectives for like five nanoseconds, after that it’s completely in the reader’s

Tag list: @activist-af​ @corishirogane3​

(Pictures not mine, mood board is!)

“Remind me, Elijah,” Klaus runs a hand through his hair, shaking some of the soot from his blonde hair, “why we decided to do this again?”

Elijah huffs indignantly, also shaking out his hair and shrugging the heavy coat off his shoulders. His hoodie underneath is soaked through with sweat and it follows the same path. Klaus already stands in just a t-shirt, the navy material glued to his skin. 

“Don’t you remember, brother?” Kol hops out of the truck from behind the wheel, his bare chest exposed, spare the straps keeping the bottom half of his turnout gear on, a cheerful grin on his lips, “He wanted us to give back to the community. I believe his exact words were firefighters or soldiers.”

It’s true, Elijah had wanted them to do something meaningful with their lives. Well, with a fraction of their lives. He wanted them to be a family again and what better way to do that than to take on a career built on teamwork. Honestly, he had expected them to last maybe six months before quitting but now they were three years deep and he couldn’t see them going anywhere for a while. Somehow station 32 in small town Virginia had become a home base for them.

Elijah leans against the brick of the old fire station, closing his eyes for a moment, “just be happy I didn’t suggest doing both.”

“What makes you think I would follow you to war,” Klaus laughs but it’s hollow, the strain of the day settling over his bones.

They haven’t had a day this strenuous in months, sixteen calls in one day and it’s only eight. Human or not, that’s a lot of heavy lifting. Klaus would do anything for some sleep. He sags against the wall next to his brother. Despite the sleep tugging at his body he can’t seem to relax. Something is keeping his spine rigid, something he can’t quite place his mind on. Oh well. 

Elijah chuckles, his eyes still shut, “you followed me here didn’t you? Face it, you needed this as much as I did.”

Klaus doesn’t speak, he just hums his agreement, something entirely unlike him but brought on from the exhaustion. His shoulders remain tight, his muscles stiff. The air feels like it's buzzing lightly, charged with something he doesn’t have enough energy to think about.

Kol laughs through his own fatigue, stretching his arms behind him, ignoring the way his bones click slightly, “I, for one, need a shower. I smell like flames and I hate it. I suggest you two do the same,” he turns from his slumped brothers, “I can smell you from here.”

Elijah pulls himself from the wall, rolling his shoulders and peeling his eyes open, “come on, Niklaus, you can take a nap for a few hours. I doubt the rest of the night will be eventful, half the town should be asleep by now.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The two brothers catch up with Kol easily, grabbing their discarded gear on the way and heading towards the locker room. Kol is the first to step through the door, adamant on jumping in the shower before his brothers take all the hot water like they usually do, when he stops suddenly, all of his senses on high alert. Something is wrong, terribly so. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, catching the faintest hint of sweetness, like vanilla and oranges, mingled with something sharper. Something too familiar. 

“Kol, what are you-” Elijah doesn’t get to finish his thought.

“Blood,” Klaus pushes past both of them, his eyebrows furrowed, “I smell blood. Someone’s here.”

Kol nods and steps further into the room, directly followed by Klaus and Elijah. As they push forward, towards the showers, the scent of fresh blood intensifies. So does the vanilla citrus perfume, magnifying and tangling around each brother. The room is electrified because of it, drawing them quicker to the heart of the locker room. The distinct sound of three heartbeats fills the room, each one louder than the last. Thump, thump, thump. 

When they turn the corner they freeze, each heart skipping a beat in the same moment. There, in the middle of the showers, is an unconscious woman. A naked, unconscious woman slumped over in a pool of her own blood. Her body is battered, more blue and black than any other color. Who knew a vampire's blood could turn as cold as theirs is right now?

“Fuck,” Kol’s voice is the first to break the tension, dropping to his knees with a dull thud, his heart strings snapping violently in his chest, “fuck!”

Klaus is in front of her in a flash, his teeth ripping into his wrist without a second thought. Kol turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s no way he can watch this. The sweet smell wraps around him, taunting him almost. The overwhelming sense of loss wraps around him like a noose, his throat closing harshly. Why now, why like this?

“Is that,” Elijah, too, sinks to the ground, his hands splayed against the concrete, his eyes glued to the horrific sight in front of him, “is that who I think it is?”

His muscles tighten, an indescribable pain rippling through his entire body. He feels like he’s drowning. No, like he’s burning alive. Fuck, it feels like both at the same time. He wants to scream but no sounds are surfacing. This can’t be happening!

Kol’s voice is sharp and cracked, too many emotions to decipher leaking into his words, “yeah, it’s her. It’s our mate.”

Klaus presses his bleeding wrist to her mouth hard, tears streaming freely down his face. He couldn’t care less about how he looks, not right now. Not when it feels like someone is ripping his heart straight from his chest. 

“Come on, love. Wake up. I need you! Wake up!”

                         *          *          *           *          *          *

“Wake up. I need you! Wake up!” 

You tear your eyes open suddenly, bright lights flooding your senses. You gasp as you regain consciousness, something that you realize too late is a mistake. Your mouth is filled with a thick, hot substance, one much too metallic and familiar for your liking, that you inhale by accident. It fills your lungs quickly, your chest burning, and you roll over, hacking up mouthfuls of the disgusting fluid. It feels like your entire body is engulfed in flames. Like you’re dying twice. 

The concrete is freezing against your fiery arms and, when it finally blurs into focus, you realize it’s also covered in a deep red liquid. You run your tongue over your mouth, the tang making your eyes widen. Your heart stutters as you finally come to an understanding. Blood. The floor is covered in blood. Your blood. This time you vomit, and almost scream when you see it matches the liquid around you.

“Shit,” a voice sounds from behind you as a pair of hands slides over your back, startling you further into the sticky redness, “holy shit you’re awake. Oh thank god!”

You flinch away from the hands, turning too quickly to face whoever it is behind you. Mistake number two. The walls start spinning around you and you have to grasp the wet stone beneath you and close your eyes for a moment. When you finally open them again you’re met with a pair of warm, brown eyes. Your heart stutters again, but you don’t have time to wonder why you don’t feel as afraid this time.

“Who are you? What the hell is going on?” you run your eyes over him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “I don’t- where am I?”

Each of your senses are on high alert, your heart beating so loud you’re afraid it’s going to jump out of your chest, as you allow yourself to finally take in your surroundings. You're in a shower room of sorts, with rows of lockers on your one side and the tiled rows of shower stalls on the other. The smell of fresh blood hits you full force and you almost vomit again. You suck in a deep breath, ignoring the burning in your lungs as you try to force the feeling away. Your eyes catch some writing on the wall; Station 32. You look back to the man in front of you, zeroing in on his navy t-shirt with the same logo. 

What the hell are you doing at a fire station? 

He shifts closer to you and you stiffen. A pained expression laces across his face and your chest stings, worse than it did when you were coughing up the blood. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again there’s a sheen of tears. You swallow thickly, your own tears forming at the sight of his. What on earth is happening?

He sits back on his knees and runs a red hand through his blonde hair, maring the light strands with blood. You tense further at the sight. For some reason you want to stop him from spreading more of the blood over him. He’s already kneeling in a puddle of it, and his arms are soaked, painted in a cruel crimson. Even his t-shirt is drenched.  You grind your teeth together, your jaw clenching harshly. He places both his hands on the floor and takes another few inches towards you.

His movements are slow as if not to startle you, “hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now. I’m Klaus, I’m a firefighter here. You’re at station 32, Lexington, Virginia.”

His voice is heavy with emotion, making what you can only assume is a strong british accent even stronger. Your heart tugs harshly when he speaks, begging you to move closer to him. You wrap your arms around yourself, ignoring the increasingly sticky feeling over your entire body. You can’t stop a few tears from slipping down your cheeks.

“How did I get here?” 

A new voice, one just as accented and gravelly, pulls your attention from Klaus, “we aren’t sure, darling. We just got back ourselves. Gave us quite a shock, actually. How much do you remember?”

Your eyes wander around the blonde and land on two more men, two brunettes. You lock eyes with each of them, your heat racing once more. You suck in a breath at the wave of emotions that hit you. Sadness, confusion, longing, comfort. Love. It all hits you at once and you have to close your eyes before the room starts spinning again. When you open them again, they’re closer. Far enough to keep you from tensing, settled next to Klaus. 

You tuck your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed. One of the men, the one with dark brown hair cut close to his head and concerned brown eyes, notices and wastes no time pulling the t-shirt from his chest and settling it on your knees. It’s warm and a touch damp but you don’t mind, gratefully shuffling it over your head and passing him a grateful nod. It lands mid thigh, circling you in a heady wood scent. Your cheeks flame as you try not to lean down and smell it directly. When you look back at him his eyes are glinting.

“I’m not sure,” you press your palms against your eyes and immediately regret it, the stickiness now smeared on your cheeks and eyelids, “I don’t remember much. Only bits and pieces from this morning but nothing after that. Wait, is that normal? God, why can’t I remember anything!”

All of a sudden you’re panicking and the room begins shrinking, at least it feels like it is. You can’t breathe, your lungs constricting painfully. There isn’t enough oxygen in the room. Was there ever enough? You’re racking your mind for any little thing that you can remember but it’s pointless, you’re going too fast and your mind can’t make sense of anything you’re seeing. You see a sink, one covered in blood. You see teeth. No, you see fangs. You smell the forest, one heavy with pine trees. None of it makes sense!

You claw maniacally at your chest, trying to suck in enough air to clear the fog in your head. Nothing is helping, your body is on fire and sticky and you just want to scream until it all makes sense. The shirt feels three sizes too small and you want to tear it over your head. Just before you can, though,  you’re pulled onto someone's lap, someone who smells like pure water, and you can finally suck in a proper breath. The flames that were lapping your skin slowly start to fade, giving over to a cool sensation that soothes your achy bones. 

“Deep breaths, love,” Klaus’ voice washes over you like a lullaby, his hands rubbing down your back, “that’s good, just like that. We’re going to figure this out but for now you just have to breathe. You’re safe now, I promise you that. We can start with an easy one, what’s your name?”

You sink into his chest more easily than you would like to admit. His arms circle you tighter, his head resting on yours in an entirely unprofessional way but you don’t care. You’ve never felt this kind of need before. You’re afraid that if you leave his arms now then the flames will come back.

“Y/n,” you murmur into his shoulder, “my name is y/n.” 

A pair of hands rub over your shoulders, drawing you into them slightly on instinct, “darling, I know you’re scared but we need to see if you’re seriously hurt. We found you in a lot of blood,” whoever is speaking his voice is rough and he has to stop to clear his throat, muttering a curse under his breath, “do you think you can let us check you over?”

When he brings up the blood, it’s all you can smell again, and you scramble from Klaus’ arms, narrowly making it before you’re vomiting again. This time you don’t puke up any blood, thank god. Just bile, which isn’t much better. The metallic scent is all around you and it’s all you can do to hang your head and suck in as much air as possible. You feel so dizzy it physically hurts.

“Shit, Elijah we gotta get this cleaned up. It’s only making it worse. C’mere love,” you’re pulled into the warm chest of a man you’ve yet to interact with.

You lock eyes with the last man, losing your breath at his honey brown eyes. He smiles softly and you feel your cheeks go hot. You bring your hands to your lips quickly, all too aware of how close you are to this man and the fact that you were just throwing up and are soaked through with blood. You blink back a few tears, embarrassment streaming through you. You glance down at his chest which is now covered in your blood. The man furrows his brows, shaking his head lightly. You can almost hear his thoughts; don’t worry. 

Elijah, the man who gave you his shirt, nods at Klaus, standing quickly, “you two take her to the captain’s bathroom, it’s nicer anyway and more private. I’m not expecting anyone else tonight but I’d rather them not see her like this,” he turns, locking eyes with you, his rough tone softening drastically, “baby, are you okay if they help you clean this blood off? They’re not going to hurt you, we just need to get you cleaned up and warm to make sure you don’t go back into shock.”

The word baby rings through your head, hitting you directly in the chest. Tendrils of warmth unfurl through your body and you find yourself nodding to everything he says. Elijah sags, relief taking over his body. It doesn’t last long though, the tension filling his frame as he looks back around the room.

“Kol,” the man under you tenses, “take her upstairs now. Niklaus, do you mind helping me with this? It’s-” Elijah looks at you again for a moment before he has to look away, “It’s going to take two people.”

Klaus stares at you longingly, the pained look back in his eyes. It makes you want to pull him into your arms, blood or no blood, and hold him. You tense at the thought. Where did that come from?

He looks at you a moment longer before crawling over to and running one of his stained hands over your cheek. He leans down and kisses the top of your head, rubbing his cheek against your matted hair. Sparks dance down your spine at the simple touch, lighting your body like a christmas tree. Too many emotions surface again, confusion and longing being the top contenders. 

“I’ll be with you as soon as I can, love,” he whispers to you before standing himself and addressing Elijah, “yeah, let’s get this over with.”

Elijah nods at Klaus, his shoulders sagging slightly, probably out of relief again. Looking around one last time it’s obvious the job is going to take some major man-power. Thankfully the blood is contained mostly to the showers, but even so it’s coating almost every surface from there on. Looking at it makes you chest heavy again but before you can lose it Kol stands, pulling you up with him. 

He holds you easily, bringing you level with Klaus and Elijah. Elijah strides over to you, taking your face in his hands. Your heart pounds mercilessly at his touch. It takes all your willpower not to jump into his arms and curl around his bare chest. You try not to stare at his taut muscles. Now is definitely not the time to let lust join the myriad of emotions  running through you. Even as you force your eyes away, though, your body ignites and you have to stop yourself from clenching your thighs around Kol. Fucking hell, what is going on?

Kol’s arms tense suddenly and when you peak back at him, his eyes are shades darker. You swallow thickly, trying not to think too much about the heated look in his eyes. Or how much you don’t want him to stop looking at you like that. You peer back at Elijah, who holds a similar expression. You have to suck in a breath, the room temperature instantly raising ten degrees. 

Elijah leans his forehead against yours, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones gently, “Kol’s going to take you upstairs now, okay baby? He’ll take care of you, help you wash some of this off. You’re in control here, alright? No one else is going to hurt you.”

You nod lightly, your forehead rubbing against his, “okay, Eli.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and presses a hard kiss to your head before releasing you. Kol shuffles you further up his body, drawing your attention to him. He grins at you but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Before you can process what you’re doing, you’re cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and so warm. He sighs quietly, sinking his cheek into your touch, his eyes losing some of the tension.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, darling.” 

You lower your hand, choosing now to wrap your arms around his shoulders instead. His muscles under your fingertips are glorious, warm and firm. When you rest your face against his shoulder, you breathe in the faintest hints of nutmeg and flames. It’s absolutely intoxicating. His shoulder is hot against your cheek and you finally give into your cravings to curl your body around his, wrapping your legs tightly around his torso and clinging to him for dear life. He holds you against him with everything he has, taking the steps two at a time. 

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes until you feel him enter a separate room, one much smaller than the locker room you were previously in. You’re greeted with a spectacular sight; a spacious bathroom with a wall of showerheads and the biggest clawfoot tub you’ve ever seen. You almost jump from his arms at how badly you want to get in it.

He sets you down on a vast countertop, the cool marble biting into your bottom. You shiver lightly, a warm blush spreading down your neck and chest. He places his arms on either side of you, staring at you with a mixture of tenderness and caution. You have to will yourself to keep looking into his eyes and not at the way his arms flex from how he’s leaning. God, where did all these wanton feelings come from?

“Okay, darling, where are we going from here? What do you need me to do?” his accent is fuller due to the acoustics in the bathroom and you nearly keel over from how hard it slams through your body, tugging at every nerve south of your belly button.

“Um,” you clear your throat lightly, swallowing the sudden scratchiness, “do you think there’s a toothbrush anywhere around here?”

Kol grins knowingly, leaning down and opening a drawer next to your thigh. The heat rolling off his body rushes into your legs and when he resurfaces with a new toothbrush and a cheeky smile you’re practically panting.

“Thanks.”

You brush your teeth quickly, making sure to scrub the remnants of the past thirty minutes or so from your mouth. It instantly makes you feel a little better, knowing you can speak to Kol without your breath being a biohazard. You set the toothbrush down, looking back to him appreciatively. 

Kol cups your chin gently, spreading heat like butter through your bones,“Do you think you can stand? If you can, I can wait outside while you get cleaned up. You can take as much time as you need, darling. I’ll be right outside the door.”

Your heart pounds quickly at his suggestion, your throat closing painfully. You don’t want him to leave you alone, even if he is just outside the door. You don’t know how to ask him to stay, though, and you don’t want to cross any boundaries. You’re so damn conflicted that your chest aches.

“Okay.”

He nods, his eyes a touch less bright than they were a few moments ago, and he backs away hesitantly. You use all your energy to push yourself off the counter, using it to keep yourself upright when your feet touch the floor. Your legs feel like jelly and you wonder for a moment if you have any bones. You shake your head lightly, scolding yourself. Don’t be stupid, y/n, of course you have bones. However, when you go to take a step towards the bathtub you almost revoke the sentiment. Your legs crumple around you, bringing you to a pile on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Kol is next to you in no time at all, his hands rushing over your legs, most likely checking for damage, “I knew that was going to happen I don’t know why I let you do that, darling. I was trying to give you space. Are you okay? Elijah and Klaus are going to kill me.”

He mutters the last part under his breath but you still catch it, “it’s not your fault, I was trying not to bother you. I thought I could make it to the tub, at least, and then figure the rest out from there. I, uh,” you scrub your hands over your face, covering your eyes with your palms, “I didn’t want to be a burden, more than I already am I mean.”

A few more tears slip past your guard, tracking lines through the dried blood on your cheeks. You swallow a sob before it can make any noise, your shoulders shaking slightly from the cold tiles underneath you. You’re utterly exhausted. You wish you could just click your heels and go home. The only problem is that something tells you that you’d only end up here again if you could do that.

“No,” Kol’s voice is low and strained, “no, darling, don’t say that. This isn’t your fault,” he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his hot, nutmeg chest, “you’re not a burden to me. Or Elijah or Klaus. You’re a surprise and not an unwelcome one. If you need me to stay, hell, if you want me to stay I will. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, okay?”

You peer up at him, clinging to his toned chest like you’re afraid it’ll vanish from underneath you, “please get this blood off of me, Kol. I can’t do it, I can’t even hold myself up. I need you.”

His eyes darken again, the honeyed brown turning a darker chocolate color, “you have me, darling, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he leans down and brushes his nose against yours, “never ever.”

A tiny giggle bubbles in your chest and it feels like freedom. It feels like falling asleep on the beach and hiking through the mountains and every good thing you’ve ever experienced. Kol’s eyes light up and he bites back a grin before doing it again, pulling a flood of giggles from you. Soon you're throwing your arms around him, laughing your head off for no reason at all, him joining you in the madness. You can’t stop and you don’t want to. You need this, you need him. It frightens you how intensely you feel connected to him already but you push the fear away for the time being. 

“Okay, okay,” Kol scoops you against him and stands, “enough of that, love, time for a bath.”

That effectively puts an end to your giggling, your body igniting at the thought of taking a bath with this second coming of adonis. You swallow the lump in your throat, this time caused by the rippling of his taut muscles against you. The t-shirt you’re wearing feels see through suddenly, the thin layer between your core and his stomach doing little to quell the heat seeping from the crack between your thighs. 

You dig your fingers into his shoulders a little harder than you mean to, pulling a soft grunt from him, one that you can feel in your own chest, “bath. Okay.”

Your cheeks flame at your idiotic response. Bath. Okay. What the hell was that?

He walks to the tub and sets you gently on the floor of it, the porcelain ice against your flesh. He turns, his back facing you as he pulls his suspenders off. You admire the fluid movement of his muscles as he steps out of his stained turnout gear, leaving him in a pair of grey sweatpants. His back is toned like a greek god’s and you would like nothing more in this moment than to know what it feels like to dig your nails into it. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to air the wanton out of your system. Don’t be a hussy, y/n. He turns back to you and your face flushes when he catches your lingering stare.

He hooks his fingers in his sweatpants and your breath catches in your throat. He lifts his eyebrow, silently asking if it’s okay for him to continue. Your mouth feels dry, your head is spinning. Slowly you nod, your eyes glued to his. He smirks lighty, an action so doused in sex that almost has you pulling Elijah’s t-shirt from your body and falling at his feet. You hold your breath as he pulls the sweatpants from his body and your heart almost falls out of your chest when they reveal a pair of grey plaid boxers. What were you expecting? Your subconscious taunts you mercilessly.

He steps into the bathtub behind you, kneeling and grabbing the showerhead on the way down. The heat rolling off of him seems to have increased, wrapping around you and daring you to melt into him. You want to, so badly you do, but you remain upright, your hands on the side of the tub, leaving rusty smudges on the crisp, white edges. 

Kol leans forward, his mouth right next to your ear sending shivers straight to your core when he speaks, “darling, I’m going to need to take this off,” his fingers tease the tops of your thighs, curling around the hem of the t-shirt, “may I do that?” 

He presses his face against your neck, laying a few soft kisses to the skin under your jaw. You roll your head back onto his shoulder, savouring his affection and warmth for a moment without overthinking it. 

You nod against his skin, “yes, Kol.”

You can feel the breath he takes against your back and then, when he releases it, against your neck. He takes his time, his fingers gently skimming your sides as he gathers the fabric up and over your head. You raise your arms to make it easier for him, gasping gently as cool air rolls over your exposed breasts. He tosses Elijah’s t-shirt to the side, running his hands down your back and planting another kiss to your uncovered shoulder. 

You know you should feel ashamed for being this naked with a man you just met but you physically can’t bring yourself to feel any of it. All you know is that you’re comfortable and that his hands on your skin feel like genuine magic. 

“Okay, I’m going to turn the water on now,” he rubs his nose down the back of your neck, “let me know if it’s too hot or anything.”

Your eyes prickle at how sweet he is, how gentle he is with you. He definitely doesn’t look like the gentle type, all tall, dark, and broody, but the way he’s acting proves otherwise. You nod your head, leaning your chin on the edge of the tub. He starts the water, a plume of steam instantly clouding the bathroom. The first stream to hit you is heavenly and you can’t help but close your eyes.

“Is that okay, darling?” 

You hum quietly, “it’s perfect.”

You let the water lull you into a daze, picturing the stream turning red as the water rolls off you and down the drain. It’s mesmerizing, the warmth of the water combined with Kol’s heady scent. When he touches you, though, it’s like a crescendo of feeling. His fingers run over your back, no doubt washing away the events of this evening, but all you can think about is how perfect his hands feel against your bare skin. 

Everywhere he touches blazes to life. You feel like putty in his hands, willing to mold however he needs you to. When his fingers glide down your sides your body reacts without warning, your back arching against his chest. You can feel his chest rumble under your back more than you can hear it. His large hands span your back easily, spreading over your ribcage, his thumbs gently grazing your breasts. You suck in a harsh breath, clenching your teeth to keep his name in your mouth. It’s begging to be said though. Said, screamed, praised. Anything. Fuck it.

“Kol,” you breathe, reaching back to grasp at his forearms for stability, “more.”

The growl that rips from his chest is unexpected but it lights every fibre of your being alive. He pulls you hard against his solid chest, falling against the back of the tub and shifting you so you’re perfectly centered on his lap. A flare of pleasure flashes up your spine when you land on something hot and hard. You hiss at the thin layer of clothing between you and Kol.

His lips find your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sending even more heat pooling in your core, “as you wish, darling.”

Your hands fall away as his hands cover your breasts, his thumbs skillfully sliding over your hard nipples. This time you don’t whisper his name, you moan it. Loudly. Every time he rolls your nipples between his fingers, you see stars. You see the whole damn galaxy. His lips find your shoulder, biting down gently but hard enough to pull a string of incoherent praise from your lips. 

His chest rumbles with every noise you make and the ball of heat between your legs grows brighter. You rock your hips against his, trying to build some much needed friction. The noise you pull from him is the epitome of heaven and it hits you right in the chest. It compels you to keep grinding your core against him harder, taking every sound he offers up and matching it with one of your own. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, rolling your head onto his shoulder as the anticipation sings through your body. 

Your senses are flooded, your hearing muffled by the running water and your blood pumping through your ears, which is probably why you don’t hear the door open and someone step into the bathroom. It’s only when a pair of lips attaches to the base of your neck do you peel your eyes open. You meet Klaus’ stare with a gasp, just as Kol pinches your nipples harder than all the times before. 

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, tearing through your nerves without warning and rendering you to pieces. All the while Klaus takes your arm, placing tantalizing, open mouth kisses down your skin. When you finally come down from the climax, your muscles are layered with a sweet exhaustion. Kol nuzzles against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Fuck, darling,” he nips at your shoulder and your skin zings lightly, “you have no idea how much I needed that.”

Your eyes meet Klaus’ and your cheeks flame from the intensity of his stare, “I didn’t do anything, you did it all.”

You want to look away from Klaus, you want to feel some inkling of shame, but you can’t. All you want is to do is hook your arm around his neck and bring him closer to you. Your body craves his and it’s all you can do to not melt into his palm when he cups your cheek. 

“That’s the point, love,” Klaus runs his thumb over your skin, “he just wanted to touch you.”

Kol hums his agreement into your flesh, his lips still glued to you. 

“Do you want to touch me?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, your eyes widening as soon as you register what you just said.

In less than a second, the brown eyes staring into your turn a dark coal color. The skin around Klaus’ eyes turns a deep purple. Your breath hitches at this side of him, a deep longing settling in your chest the longer you stare into his eyes. He's ethereal and entirely unhuman but you can’t even think about that. You want him so bad it stings. He has to shut his eyes for a few moments and when he opens them again his eyes are back to normal, if not a touch darker. 

When he speaks his voice is gravelly, “I need to.” 

You swallow hard, forcing the words out before you have time to lose your nerve, “come here then.”

Klaus’ eyes widen before he stands abruptly, shoving his own jogging pants down his legs before stepping into the other side of the tub. Kol lets you go as Klaus settles against the porcelain. As soon as he’s comfortable he wraps his hands around your hips, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest. Your legs end up on either side of him, much like how you were with Kol, your core pressed against the hardest part of him.

His crisp scent folds around you and sucks you deeper against him until your chest to chest, your breasts pressing into his firm chest. His arms settle around your back, his palms splayed over your spine. Your flesh buzzes from the contact, goosebumps rising when he traces lazy circles with his fingertips. You meet his eyes again and involuntarily clench your thighs around his hips. He’s looking at you like you’re the only girl he’s ever laid eyes on. Like he’s in the presence of a goddess and that he would gladly lay his life down for you. 

Your eyes draw down to the tattoo on his chest, an image of birds in flight, and you run your fingers over it gently. He sucks in a breath when you touch him, closing his eyes and leaning back against the edge of the tub. Something about his reaction spurs you on. If that’s what your fingers can do, what can your mouth do? You lean down, gently attaching your lips to his collarbone and tugging his skin into your mouth.

He jolts up when you bite down lightly, jostling you further onto his lap and sending waves of heat rolling over your body, “fuck,” his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pushing you impossibly closer to him, “love, you have no idea how good that feels.”

You pull back slightly, your mouth still against his skin as your eyes bore into his, “show me.”

His chest rumbles under your lips before he pulls your head back gently and slams his lips against your throat. He sucks your skin into his mouth and, for the second time tonight, you see stars. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, lacing your fingers through his blonde hair. You tug him closer to you, crossing your ankles behind his back. You want every inch of his skin pressed against yours. 

He bites down, his teeth scraping pleasure into every nerve, and you pull at his soft hair, praises falling mindlessly from your lips, “Klaus.”

A second pair of hands glides over your back, “darling, let me wash your hair. I can feel Elijah getting restless. Unless you want three men in this tub with you, I need to finish getting you cleaned up.”

Your heart pounds at the thought of Elijah in the bath with you, his large body pressed against yours. You can practically smell his pine scent in the air, clinging to your skin. You bite your lip. You want to moan his name and he isn’t even in the room. You shake the thought from your mind, leaning into Kol’s hands.

Klaus kisses up your neck, peppering your jaw and cheeks with pecks before pulling you to lay against his chest. You close your eyes, letting the exhaustion that’s been building flood your system. Kol soaks your hair, the warm water pouring down your shoulders as you press your face into Klaus’ neck. His hands draw lazily up and down your sides as Kol massages shampoo against your scalp. You mewl at his touch and cling to Klaus. You could stay in the moment forever, it’s absolutely blissful.

Just as Kol is rinsing the shampoo from your hair, the door to the bathroom opens revealing a shirtless Elijah. He’s clad in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. In his hand is a large towel. His eyes zero in on you from across the room and, though you can’t see them clearly, you can tell they’re dark. Your head goes fuzzy as your eyes draw down his sculpted chest, lingering on his rippled stomach. You meet his eyes again and give into your instincts, reaching your arms out for him.

“Eli,” you call out to him, “I need you.”

You stand on wobbly feet, bearing everything to him. You don’t care, you just want to be in his arms. You haven’t had a chance to touch him yet and your body is screaming at you to get as close to him as humanly possible. Even more than humanly possible. Elijah closes the space between the two of you in seconds, wrapping the towel around you before pulling you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms circling his neck. 

He leans down, rubbing his nose against yours, “I need you too, baby.” 

You slip your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the soft strands mindlessly. He leans into your touch and your heart soars. He hikes you further up your body, leaning his face against your shoulder. You run your hands over his shoulders, sighing when the tension leaves his muscles. 

“I’m going to go sleep for a few hours,” Elijah mumbles into your shoulder but his words aren’t aimed at you, “do you think the two of you will be okay until then.”

Klaus waves his hand dismissively and Kol nods, still draped lazily over the edge of the tub, “yeah, yeah, go, we’ll be fine brother.”

Wait, what? 

Did you hear that right? Brother. Your entire body sets on fire. They’re all related. Well, there’s the shame you were missing at least. You push against Elijah’s chest, forcing him to meet your eyes. When he sees your expression his brows pull together, his brown eyes filled with concern.

“Baby-” 

“You’re all brothers?” you breathe, your face burning, “brothers? What on earth is going on?”

He stares into your eyes for a moment before laughing, turning with you in his arms and starting towards the door. You lock eyes with Klaus and Kol over Elijah’s shoulder. They, too, are laughing without a care. Kol tosses you a wink just as Elijah carries you into the hallway.

You circle your arms around his shoulders again, “Lijah this is crazy. Explain. Please.”

He pulls you through another door, exposing you to a comfortable looking bed. Just looking at it sends sleep pooling in your limbs. He sets you in the middle of it before climbing on after you. He pushes you backwards and you fall into a pile of pillows, the towel long forgotten as he crawls on top of you. Your body flares with something hot as he holds himself on his forearms, his hot chest grazing yours with every breath he takes. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer to you despite your still unanswered questions.

“Lijah,” you whine as his lips find your neck, arching into his touch like two magnets connecting, “I need answers.”

Elijah’s teeth scrape at your neck, pulling soft moans from your lips. You’re so tired but the want that swirls in your core demands anything but sleep. You grip his shoulders, digging your fingers into his firm muscles. You pull his hips closer to yours, rolling against him desperately. You press your head into the pillows, exposing as much of your neck as you can to him.

He pulls away and you have to swallow your protests. When you finally open your eyes, you’re met with the same dark eyes you saw from Klaus, only now they’re accented by a pair of sharp looking fangs. You suck in a deep breath, reaching up to cup Elijah’s jaw. 

“I know, baby,” he rubs his face into your hand, “I’ll give you all the answers you need and more but first I need you. I have waited a thousand years for you and now that I have you I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go yet. Please, baby, let me have you.”

His words wrap around you, every part of your being, and sink into your core. A wave of longing hits you again, and something else that you’re not ready to explore. It makes your heart warm and your body crave every inch of his. You already knew your answer before he asked. You’ve known since you woke up to the three of them.

Maybe you even knew before that.

You pull his face to yours, capturing his lips with your own, “you already have me. I’m yours.”

[luxekook]

zero gravity ✰ namseok

✰ pairing: namjoon x hoseok x reader

✰ genre: space au, f2l, angst, smut, slight crack & fluff

✰ summary: being the captain of a spacecraft is all fun and games until the only two others on board start hooking up and you start falling for both of them. it’s only natural that you act out - just a little

✰ word count: 11k+

✰ warnings: 18+, pre-established namseok relationship, mentions of throbbing disco sticks, jealousy, an unintentional viewing of dick pics, dom/sub themes (bratty sub!reader, dom!joon, switch!hobi), a bdsm club (reader watches a scene), grinding ft. jooheon from monsta x, smut (slight voyeurism, mxm, manhandling, spanking, threesome, unprotected sex (wrap it), oral (m + f receiving), double penetration, slight breeding kink)

✰ beta’d by: phia @meowxyoong​ | ✰ banner by: rose @jeonggukingdom​

✰ commissioned by: THE LOML ATLAS @miamorjoon​ I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS UWU

The blinking lights from the monitors adorning the walls of the control room of your ship - The Imperial Kween - illuminate your path as you make your way towards the navigation deck. It isn’t like you to be awake at this hour; you’re usually sound asleep by 0100, tucked snugly in your soft bed within your cozy captain’s quarters. Yet, here you are at 0300 after a late night of binging Tron and Agnate Plus Eight (Tentacles). 

As captain of the Kween, you are perhaps a tad bit overprotective of both your ship and your crew. You had won your ship some moons ago when you were on Xyreus - the lawless planet of the Huvian System. You had been on the run, having just recently fled the Space Force Academy where you had been a rising captain.

The Academy had seemingly been your only option as an orphan. Your years there had been heavy with intense physical, mental, and intellectual training. The strict regimen enforced by your commanders had almost crushed your spirit. Almost.

Instead, your path had crossed with Jung Hoseok and Kim Namjoon. They had been assigned to you in your last month with the Academy when you rose high enough in the rankings to begin training for captaincy. You had been designated as their tentative captain with Hoseok as your pilot and Namjoon as your first officer. Upon meeting them, you had been the perfect captain that your superiors had wanted you to be - cold, callous, calculating. 

But then you had grown to like the boys. Actually, it had more so been that they had forced you to like them. With the two of them surrounding you day in and day out, your walls had crumbled. Hoseok taught you how to be happy again, how to see joy in the little things, and how to share that joy with others. Namjoon made you see other options, futures separate from the rigidity that had been the only life you knew. 

It hadn’t been until you caught them whispering about wanting to leave the Academy that you realized that could be a possibility. And then that possibility became all you could think about. You had hacked into the Academy archives, taken inventory of the ships in the cargo bay, and carefully extracted information from your commanders. 

What you had found was not pretty. Yet, it had also been strangely unsurprising. Perhaps you had always known the Academy was built on corruption and oppressive tactics. Perhaps you had subconsciously chosen to ignore it until you couldn’t anymore - not when such pure souls like Hoseok and Namjoon had relied on you and still do.

You had laid out your plans to Hoseok and Namjoon at the last possible second, protecting them from anything incriminating until the end. Your heart had burst when they dropped everything, choosing to follow you, to stay with you, to trust you. You think that had been when you first knew you loved them.

Sneaking out had been easy. You had been scoping out a small ship in the cargo hold, tinkering with its systems to get it set up for your escape. The hard part had been staying out. You, Namjoon, and Hoseok had barely breathed sighs of relief before you had Space Force officers tailing you. While Hoseok worked on evading their grasp, you and Namjoon had decided to direct your course to Xyreus to ditch your stolen ship and to negate any authority the Academy might try to push on you.

The three of you had spent a year on Xyreus, trading the parts from your Academy ship for a tiny apartment. The Academy eventually had lost interest in you all, probably replacing you easily. You had obtained freedom by the pen of a freelance forger who constructed new identification cards for you and your crew. And you had won your ship.

It had been a particularly eventful night. Hoseok and Namjoon had dragged you out of your apartment and to the Snake’s Den - a particularly popular club within Xyreus’ gambling district. The boys had really been into the fight scene and the rapid betting that accompanied it. You, however, had found your place amongst the card players. Your game of choice back then had been and still is Queen’s Revenge - a vicious game of strategy and deceit. 

Amidst the haze of the club, you had located your people, settling into the crowded booth of players. Soon enough, you had picked your victim, a loud, obnoxious fellow from Gwexion who would not shut up about his ship. “She flies faster than any ship you’ll ever see!” He had cried, thrusting his stein of Xybrew in the air, “And she can vanish without a trace with the flick of a switch!”

You had wanted that ship. And you had gotten it.

About two hours after sitting at the table, you had made your move. “My ship for yours,” You had wagered, taking advantage of a lull in the conversation. The rest of the booth had laughed, only seeing you for your gender. Twenty minutes later, there hadn't been a sound other than the sobs of the man from Gwexion and the jingle of the ship’s control keys in your hand.

Hoseok and Namjoon had berated you for hours about your recklessness of wagering a ship you didn't have. You hadn’t cared; you had known you would win and finally be able to fly. The three of you had sold your apartment the next day, boarded your ship, and flew off. You haven’t looked back since. 

Now, two years later, you’ve made quite a name for yourself across the galaxies as a mercenary of sorts. Your trade of choice? Information. 

If something is going on in space, you’re likely to know about it; and, you’ll make people pay for that information to be shared or to be kept quiet. As captain of the Kween, you’re in charge of keeping the ship running - and that includes earning a profit.

Hoseok and Namjoon aren’t too fond of your enterprise of information because it often puts you all in danger. You can’t fault them for that. You know this venture is tricky, but it's also very lucrative and it often results in you screwing over bad people. So, you take that as a win.

You arrive at the navigation deck and sigh in disappointment at the absence of Hoseok who sometimes monitors the flight course during the night. Instead, you activate your ship’s Responsive Electronic Environmental Systems Engine - simply called R.E.E.S.E. for short. “Hey, R.E.E.S.E. Status report, please.”

“Hello, Captain (y/n). It is my esteemed honor to deliver a status update to you at this hour. I have been getting so lonely, you see. Usually Pilot Hoseok stays up with me, but tonight he has abandoned me for—”

“R.E.E.S.E.!” You groan. This is typical R.E.E.S.E., going off about something trivial in a dramatic fashion.

“Oh my. I have done it again. My apologies, Captain (y/n). All systems operating as normal. Shields activated and secure. Navigation set on nightly autopilot course.”

“Thank you, R.E.E.S.E.” You gaze out of the front windows for a moment; the view never gets old. Countless stars surround you with planets of every color scattered in between. Sometimes, you would see an occasional ship passing by, but right now there is not one to be seen. 

You deactivate R.E.E.S.E. and head back to your captain’s quarters. Walking through the control room once more, you pass through the common quarters and finally enter the hallway containing your shared bathroom, both Hoseok and Namjoon’s respective quarters, and then your own at the end. The hallway is dim, illuminated only by the slight glow of the floor beneath you. 

You move slowly, careful not to wake either of the boys.

And then you hear it.

Your first thought is porn as you pause in your tracks, standing stock still as the sounds of muffled groans and slapped skin seep through the sliver of space under the metal door leading to Hoseok’s quarters. Is he really jerking it right now, you think as you shamelessly creep closer to get a better idea of whatever - or whoever - is going down right now.

“Fuck, give it to me harder.”

Yup, that’s Hoseok all right. You place your palm on his door, dirty visuals racing through your mind. Who is he imagining? What you wouldn’t give for him to be thinking of you...

“Oh yeah, I’ll fucking give it to you hard, baby. Just how I know you like it.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you slap your palm over your mouth. Holy shit. Holy fuck. Holy hell in a handbasket. That’s Namjoon. Namjoon is there with Hoseok, fucking Hoseok.

Your imagination goes wild - as do your heart and your thoughts. How long has this been going on? How have you missed this? Are you that oblivious? Or are they just that good at hiding their relationship? Why haven’t they told you? Do they not trust you as much as they say they do? Do they think you won’t accept them if you knew?

It’s those final thoughts that hurt the most.

How is it possible that you know the intricate plans of an uprising occurring on a planet light years away, but you don’t know your only two crew members are hooking up?

You somehow manage to soundlessly continue down the corridor to your quarters. How does someone respond to overhearing the two men that you’re desperately in love with having sex? And just steps away from you at that?

All of your training never prepared you for this moment. You sit in your empty bed, gazing out the large window that takes up the majority of your quarters’ back wall. Emotions roll over you like waves. Arousal. Grief. Shame. Longing. 

It isn’t that you are upset at them for being with one another. If anyone in the galaxies deserves love, it is Hoseok and Namjoon. You are more upset with yourself for naively thinking that they might have had feelings for you, that they might have loved you back.

There had been that fateful night at a bar on Xyreus when the three of you had gotten just a little too drunk on Xybrew and had fooled around. You still remember the feeling of Hoseok grinding into you on the bar’s tiny dance floor, his hands wandering across your body, driving you insane. You still remember the taste of Namjoon’s lips as he pushed you up against the wall of the small alley behind the bar, his fingers digging into your ass as he pushed his hips into yours. You still remember how Hoseok watched you with fire in his eyes as Namjoon sunk to his knees and—

Fuck, you can’t go there. You can’t revisit that memory because it only ends in disappointment. 

“A drunken mistake,” They had called it the next morning before you could get a word in edgewise. “A threat to our crew’s dynamic.”

What a joke. It turns out that their only regret must have been including you. 

Your mind wanders to all of the small moments over the past few years. The hugs, the tender looks, the things that had made you question whether they actually felt more for you after all turned out to be just signs of friendship.

With all these thoughts heavy in your mind, you eventually fall into a restless sleep.

The next morning comes all too soon as you find yourself going through the motions of everyday life with much less enthusiasm than normal. You’re drained, both from your lack of sleep and from the onslaught of emotions that still riddled your body.

And so when Hoseok greets you in the ship’s kitchen with that beautiful smile of his, you can barely get your lips to even turn up slightly.

“(y/n), are you okay?” Hoseok’s eyebrows are drawn together and he looks concerned.

You sigh, grabbing the pot of coffee and pouring yourself a cup. “Yes, I’m fine, Hoseok. I just didn’t sleep very well,” You eventually answer him, refusing to meet his eyes and choosing instead to gaze into your coffee like it might tell you how to behave right now with the knowledge you gained last night.

Obviously, it does not. You only see your distorted reflection gleaming back at you from its brown depths.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hoseok pouts, making his way over to your side, “Is there anything I can do?”

You try in vain to ignore the affect his proximity has on you as you flick your eyes across his form. Hoseok is tall and lithe with delicate features and the most beautiful heart-shaped smile you’ve ever seen. Though he may look slight, you know the lean muscle that lies beneath his oversized t-shirts from the early mornings you catch him roaming around shirtless and half asleep. You have first hand knowledge of how well he can move that body from the late nights at the clubs on Xyreus. You know how well he f—

Nope, not today. Instead of going down that dangerous path, you choose to be the little shit that you are when you feel like you are at a loss. “You can share your secret on how to be so well rested, Hoseokie,” You say, your eyes laser-sharp on his expression, “You’re practically glowing this morning.”

Hoseok’s cheeks flood with color as he laughs lightly and replies with a slightly wistful look on his face, “Maybe someday, (y/n).” 

You let out an unamused huff, which only makes Hoseok laugh again. You glare at the happy boy and then stiffen as arms wrap around your waist, tugging you back against a warm body. “Morning, (y/n),” Namjoon murmurs into your hair, his fingers leaving a blazing heat on your skin as they drag across the swell of your hips. 

He turns your body around to face him, and you hesitantly bring your gaze up to his. God, he’s just as beautiful as Hoseok. Namjoon’s height had been the first thing that you noticed about him in the Academy. The second had been his dimples. You have been a goner for him ever since. 

Your eyes drift up past his strong thighs to his tapered waist, his toned chest, his tanned neck, and finally to rest on his warm brown eyes. “Hi,” He grins, those godforsaken dimples popping out to greet you, too.

“Hi,” You manage to reply, your heart constricting painfully in your chest.

Always too smart for his own good, Namjoon catches your mood immediately, “What’s wrong?”

“She didn’t sleep well,” Hoseok comes up next to Namjoon, throwing an arm around his shoulders. His frown is prominent as he stares down at you. Namjoon’s expression quickly matches Hoseok’s as he brings his hand to cup your chin, lifting your face up to look at you.

“Baby,” He murmurs, “Were you dreaming of that damned place again? I thought that had stopped for you.” 

You bristle under the weight of their inspections and from the pet name you now know means nothing. Namjoon is, of course, referring to your recurring nightmares from the Academy, and he is also inadvertently giving you the perfect excuse not to come clean about the real reason for your fitful night.

And so you nod as best you can with Namjoon’s hand cupping your chin, and the boys exchange a long look. Hoseok turns to you, “Go rest today. Namjoon and I can handle things. Okay, lovely?”

You turn away, forcing Namjoon to drop his hand. “I need to plan out a potential deal on Naroxu,” You mutter in disagreement, “I’ll be fine.”

“Naroxu?” Namjoon bites out, “(y/n), we talked about this.” You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Sometimes it feels like you're not the captain of your own ship. And it is exasperating.

“You know what?” You grab your coffee, brushing past the boys, “I think I will go rest after all. Don’t disturb me, okay?”

“But (y/n)—!” You leave them in your dust. Of course you should have realized they would have a problem with Naroxu. It’s a planet just as lawless as Xyreus, but it’s focus is more on the carnal sort of chaos. You aren’t unaware of the dangers that lay within the pleasures on Naroxu; you���re just unfazed by them.

Apparently, Namjoon and Hoseok feel differently. Your boys can argue with you about anything in the name of “safety”. You’ll definitely need to make certain that you’ll have a foolproof plan which leaves them with no room to argue. But, that is a bridge you shall cross another day...

A few days later, you realize that you definitely must have been oblivious to the relationship occurring right under your nose. There are signs of it everywhere - in the way they speak to one another, in the way their eyes linger, in the way their hands brush as they pass each other by.

You have not dared to venture out of your quarters late at night ever since that fateful discovery, but that doesn’t help. Your thoughts are constantly plagued by the sounds of their desire, their intimacy. Your mind conjures images that you can’t forget. You crave that. You want to be part of that passion with a desperation you have never felt before.

And so, you have accordingly descended into internal chaos, choosing to throw yourself into your plans instead of joking around with Namjoon and Hoseok in the common quarters like you usually do in your spare time.

They know something is up. It’s not like you haven’t spent almost three full years together. Knowing each others’ tendencies and habits is second nature. Well, clearly that knowledge has excluded intimate relationships - at least for you. 

The tip of your pencil snaps under the strength of your grip; and, when you look down to assess the damage, you sigh. All you have written down so far is: “Plan A: Go with Joon and Hobi. Plan B: Go without Joon and Hobi if they don’t like Plan A.”

Pushing your desk chair back, you stand and stretch out slightly. The rest of the logistics for the meeting are set. Now comes the hard part - convincing the boys to come along. It’s not that you can’t go alone; it’s that you feel better knowing you have two people watching your back, no matter how frustrating they might be.

Walking out of your quarters, you make your way towards the sounds of laughter and low voices coming from the control room.

“We really do have to tell her soon, Hobi.” You hear Namjoon say as you draw closer. Are they talking about you?

“I know, Joon. I’m just scared. I don’t want to lose her friendship.” Hoseok’s voice is small, barely above a whisper.

“You won’t, baby. Just think of how free we’ll be to share our love…” Your ears strain to hear them now, even as you get closer.

“...Leaving her.”

Your feet stop in their tracks. Leaving? Are they really thinking of leaving you? Your body sags against the wall, sliding to the floor. What would you do without them?

You guess you could recruit a new crew, but no one could replace Hoseok and Namjoon. Not when they’ve been with you through everything. Not when they’ve accepted you for who you are. Not when they’ve become your life.

You allow yourself to sit for a moment. And then you collect yourself, shoving your useless emotions down to the pit of your stomach. You just need to move forward and enjoy every last second with your boys before they go. Because they would leave you, and you would let them go because you love them.

Standing, you make sure to make louder footfalls then normal to alert Hoseok and Namjoon of your incoming presence. Sure enough, the minute you step into the control room Hoseok tackles you in a hug.

“(y/n)!” He picks you up and swings you around, “I’ve missed you, lovely!”

You laugh despite your lungs being constricted by his tight embrace, “I saw you last night at dinner, you fool.”

Hoseok sets you down and jokingly pouts down at you, “But that was so long ago! You left me all alone with this one.” He juts his thumb out at Namjoon, “And you know how he can get.”

“Not as well as you,” You mumble under your breath.

“What was that?” Namjoon narrows his eyes, focused on you from his nearby stance leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his dark t-shirt straining against his biceps.

“Nothing,” You smile sweetly at him. “Hi, Joon, nice to see you, too.” 

Namjoon stares at you for a moment more and then sighs. Walking over to you, he pulls you close, “It is really nice to see you, baby.” That blasted nickname is going to lower you into an early grave. Indulging yourself with a short hug from Joon, you pull back and decide it's time to get down to business.

“Alright, let’s go over the plan for Naroxu.”

“(y/n)!” Namjoon shoves a hand through his hair, “I thought we scrapped that idea. That planet is on our ‘no-go’ list!”

“Naroxu is dangerous, lovely,” Hoseok’s wide eyes bore into you, “Please think this through.”

“You scrapped the idea,” You say to Namjoon, “I kept it. Besides, that ‘no-go’ list was all you and Hoseok.” Turning to the boy you just named, you continue, “And I have thought this through. Extensively, Hobi. Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, I can handle myself, okay?”

You can tell they are getting pissed; but honestly, so are you. 

“We know you’re a ‘big girl’.” You do not appreciate Hoseok’s use of air quotes, but you allow him to continue because you’re gracious like that. “But there are tons of bad people on Naroxu who would love to chew you up and spit you out - physically and metaphorically speaking.”

“Gross, Hobi,” You scoff. “And before you both cast judgement, why don’t you give me a chance to explain the plan? You don’t even know who I’ll be meeting for gods' sake.”

The boys exchange a glance. “Fine,” Namjoon bites out, “But this won’t change my mind.”

Obviously, you think to yourself. Trying to get Joon to change his mind is like trying to get R.E.E.S.E. to delete the overwhelming amount of data she has dedicated to some group of musicians from Earth. Impossible, but you would always try anyways.

“Okay, so the contact that I’m meeting on Naroxu is Joohoney—”

“What?!”

“Joohoney from Monsta X?!”

“Oh my gods, will you let me finish?” You roll your eyes to the ceiling and plead with any higher power to help you find patience, “Yes, Joohoney from the Monsta X clan. How many other people in the galaxies go by that name?”

Hoseok opens his mouth to answer, and you cut him off, “That was a rhetorical question, Hobi.” He blushes, bottom lip sticking out slightly. 

“Anyway, we’re going to be meeting up at this space BDSM type sex club called Throbbing Disco Sticks. I’ll tell Joohoney what he wants to know, he’ll pay me, and we’ll bounce. Got it?”

You get nothing but silence. Looking at them, you notice the tightness of Namjoon’s jaw and the darkness in Hoseok’s gaze. 

“Oh, now you want to be quiet?” You push them, “Well, you can both stay here. I made a separate plan to go alone so—”

“Not happening,” Joon grits out, moving closer to you. “We made a pact, (y/n). Or have you forgotten?”

“Together or never,” Hobi recites and you almost laugh. It’s absurd that they bring this up when they had just been talking about leaving.

“Fine,” You shrug, “Then we leave at 2200. Hope you have something tight to wear.” With that, you stalk out of the control room. Their shouts follow you.

“Tonight?!”

“(y/n)!”

You grin. Maybe this will be fun after all.

Update: it is not fun after all. You only have twenty minutes left to get ready and you’re panicking. You had just made the mistake of asking R.E.E.S.E. to bring up pictures of Throbbing Disco Sticks and immediately had regretted all of your life decisions.

Is that why they named that club what they did? You think both you and R.E.E.S.E. are scarred from the unexpected amount of male genitalia that the search produced. Only after you add the addition of ‘Naroxu club’ do you get the results you’re looking for - mostly. 

You had just wanted some guidance on what to wear. Instead, your thoughts are now full of images of chained leashes, silk ropes, and dark rooms with blinds raised to welcome an audience. You wonder what sort of things happen in rooms like that and if you’d ever get a chance to try those things out.

Your tablet beeps, alerting you of your upcoming meeting. Taking one last glance in the mirror, you assess the way your tight leather pants accentuate your body and your slightly sheer black crop top hints at your lack of bra underneath. Still, your outfit is missing something… You think it over as you tug on your pointy black steel-toed heels.

Ah, you stand and make your way over to your trusty jewelry drawer. Of course. Carefully pulling out your body chain from its place, you drape it around yourself. The chain clasps around your neck and then falls lower between your breasts, settling around your waist. The coldness of the metal causes you to shiver, but the way the crystals embedded in the silver glisten as you turn to admire your final outfit makes it worth it. 

You keep your makeup minimal - just a red lip and a slash of black eyeliner. You want to blend in, not make a statement.

Finally, you tuck the map outlining the information Joohoney wants into your back pocket. Any bag you might bring would be searched, so you can do without one.

You take one last calming breath and make your way down the hall to meet the boys. “Hoseok, Namjoon: Are you ready?” You call as you don’t see any sign of them out in the common quarters.

“Coming!” Hoseok’s voice calls back to you and then he emerges from his quarters. 

You have to use all of your might not to let your jaw drop. It seems like he also had searched up what to wear because he looks like he stepped right out of the pictures you had seen just a half hour ago.

Hoseok is wearing tight dark jeans tucked into black combat boots that buckle up to the middle of his calves. What he isn't wearing is a shirt. Instead, a deep red leather harness is strapped across his chest with a silver hoop in the middle.

Did he just have that harness lying around? Gods save you.

While you are busy ogling Hoseok, you fail to notice him doing the same to you - so much so that he doesn't move an inch from his spot until Namjoon bursts out of his own quarters and bumps right into him.

At this point, you begin to sweat because Namjoon looks just as lethal as Hoseok in his light jeans, a black leather thigh harness, and a completely see through tight mesh t-shirt. You watch as he fiddles with the two leather cuffs circling his wrists.

“Hoseok, what are you doing?” Namjoon scowls, dropping his hands to his hips. Hobi says nothing and just points in your direction.

“Why are you pointing at me?” You huff, “Don’t blame me for being an idiot and just standing there practically waiting to get hit.”

Namjoon stalks towards you, eyes blazing into you as he takes in your outfit. “Change,” He orders.

He’s giving you orders? A burst of heat flares within you that you try to classify as anger but fail miserably. 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Joon,” You fold your arms across your chest. Hoseok chokes as he comes up to stand next to Namjoon who is suddenly all up in your face.

“Go. Change.” Namjoon’s voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it.

“No.” You stand your ground. Why is he trying to dictate your clothing choices anyway? He’s not your father or your boyfriend - not that you’d let either of those people tell you what choices to make with your own body.

Namjoon turns to Hobi, who still hasn't uttered a word to you, and says lowly, “Go set the course to land on Naroxu.”

Hoseok practically runs off in the direction of the navigation deck. You gape after his fleeing figure and then turn back to face the fuming Namjoon.

“Listen,” You shove your finger into his admittedly toned chest, “I don’t know what has gotten into you, Kim. This outfit isn’t even that bad. Besides, you’ve seen me naked before. Remember?”

“You’re really going to ask me if I remember.” Namjoon’s face is inches from yours. His scent wraps around you and you have to collect yourself for a second. His eyes drop to your lips for a second so brief you believe you imagined it. “You’re really going to ask me that as if the image of your body isn’t burned into my memory and as if every single time I close my eyes I don’t see you.” Namjoon takes in a shaky breath, “And so, (y/n), I’m begging you. Please go change. Not for you, but for me. And for Hoseok.”

You’re at a loss as your brain scrambles to make sense of the words Namjoon just spoke. Okay, he does remember... So, is he mad that it happened? Or is he mad that it only happened once? Must be the first, you think. He has Hobi, after all.

“Maybe you two should stay back,” You suggest, patting Namjoon’s chest comfortingly, “Then you won’t have to look at me while I look like this. I’m sorry it brings up bad memories.”

Namjoon looks completely baffled, “What? What the hell are you talking about? Stop trying to get us to leave you alone!”

“Please,” You laugh without humor, “Like I have to try.”

This time, Namjoon just looks pissed. “Baby, that’s the second comment like that you’ve made today. And I’m getting the sense that you have something to say. So why don’t you just say it?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He is so onto you. 

Namjoon’s presence looms over you, making you feel so small. Your gaze drops to the floor, “I don’t have anything to say.”

“You’re lying. Hm, what a bad girl.” Your head snaps up, eyes wide as you try to slow the pounding of your heart and the increasing pressure between your thighs.

“Do you know what happens to bad girls, (y/n)?” Namjoon croons, eyes dark and locked on yours. You don’t even have the ability to respond, and so he just continues, “They get punished.”

A small whine bursts from your throat before you can stifle it back down. Namjoon’s smile in response is predatory.

“(y/n)! Namjoon! We’ve landed! Oh—” 

You and Namjoon turn to stare at Hoseok whose face shows a whole number of emotions in the blink of an eye. Hurt. Confusion. Lust?

All of a sudden, the ship feels too hot, and you need to get off. Ducking around Namjoon, you head towards the ship’s main door. You can hear them murmuring behind you, but you ignore them.

You need to get your shit together. It’s not good to get distracted on a job. It’s even worse to get distracted before said job even starts.

Practically punching the exit button, you tap your foot and wait for the door to open and the ramp to descend. 

“(y/n),” Hoseok calls to you, “Slow down! We need to talk to you!”

“No time,” You reply, stomping down the ship’s ramp. Barely taking a second to appreciate the beauty that is Naroxu, you power forward through the landing site. Ships of all kinds surround you. The night sky is a dark inky purple and Naroxu’s famed twin moons shimmer with swirls of silver. 

“Then make time!” Namjoon’s growly response sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the crisp night air. You increase your pace, heading towards where you hear thumping music and peels of laughter and murmured conversation. 

“Namjoon, you of all people should know that’s against the laws of physics,” You retort as you finally burst through the end of the landing site and into the crowded street dotted with neon signs and vendors of all sorts. 

“She’s so infuriating!” You hear him spit out behind you to Hobi, and you can't help the smile that winds its way across your face. At least you aren’t alone in your anger.

Finding Throbbing Disco Sticks is the easiest part of your night. You simply follow what looks like cylindrical sticks of shimmering glass mirrors spinning from atop a building. There’s a line that winds its way from the club’s doors and down the block. You quickly realize that your outfit is on the conservative side and grimace. You settle for tying your crop top higher on your waist so it hits right below your breasts. This is the best you can do.

“(y/n)!” Hoseok gasps from beside you as he realizes what you’ve just done, “Why are you torturing us like this?”

“Not this again,” You groan and decide that - fuck it - you’re going to name drop to bypass the line. It’s totally tacky, but you’re desperate at this point. Ignoring the hecklers amongst those waiting, you come to a stop in front of the two burly bouncers who are clearly Naroxuin natives with beautiful lilac skin and curling silver horns.

“Can I help you, little lady?” The slightly taller one addresses you, and you immediately swoon at the depth of his voice as it flows off his tongue like chocolate. Damn these sexy Naroxuins…

“I’m meeting an old friend,” You flash them your best smile, “And he doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Would you be able to let us in?”

Blinking your wide eyes up at the two bouncers, you watch as they exchange a short glance and then turn back to you. “Who’s your friend?” The other bouncer asks you, his sharp eyes assessing your figure.

“Jooheon,” You say, shrugging, “He usually goes by Joohoney.”

Their eyes grow large. “We didn’t know Joohoney had a pet,” The first bouncer comments, eyes flicking over your form, “But then again, you are quite delicious, aren’t you?”

A hand slips around your waist and grips it firmly, while another settles on the small of your back.

“Oh, does Joohoney share?” The second bouncer grins, his eyes turning to crescent moons as he stares at the hand digging into your hip. “I never would have guessed. Keep me in mind, would you, pet?”

“Oh, shut it, Jimin,” The taller bouncer laughs, “Like she’d ever pick you over me.”

“Fuck off, Tae,” Jimin glares, stepping aside to let you through. “Have a nice night, pet. You know where to find me.”

“And me!” Tae calls, laughing again as Jimin shoves him. 

You move along, shaking your head at the oddity of that encounter.

“I thought you were supposed to be keeping a low profile!” Namjoon hisses over to you as soon as you’re out of earshot of the two bouncers.

“Yeah,” Hoseok mutters, “Flirting usually doesn’t fall under the category of ‘low profile’.”

“Oh my gods,” You tug out of their holds, “I barely said two words to them! And I didn’t realize that flirting at a sex club would be completely out of the ordinary. Wow, lock me up!”

“Don’t fucking tempt me.” Namjoon’s response is immediate. Your breath hitches as he corners you close, “Now, go finish your little mission and we’ll settle this back on the ship, baby. And, believe me, it will be settled.”

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. You watch as Namjoon tugs Hoseok further down the corridor towards the main club area. “We’ll be watching!” Hoseok calls over his shoulder and shoots you a look you’re not even sure you want to interpret. And you can’t - not when you have a meeting to attend.

After grabbing a non-potent drink from the bar, you make your way around the crowded club. The dance floor is packed full of people of all shapes, sizes, and skin tones. You even see a few Uyiths with their glowing gold skin in the far corner, practically providing light for their whole area. 

The majority of the clubbers here seem to be experienced in the lifestyle. Many are collared or are the ones leading the collared. Others are unclaimed and waiting to be approached or to approach. You, however, are just trying to not be propositioned for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes.

“Well, aren’t you exquisite,” A low voice murmurs from your left.

“Not interested,” You say, sipping your drink and wishing you weren’t on a job so you could have something stronger.

“Your loss,” The man shrugs in your periphery before slinking away. At least this one had not been pushy like the last. You had to threaten to remove his balls using just the tip of your stiletto to get him to flee. You are so over it.

Hopping off of your barstool, you decide to explore the rest of the club while you wait for Joohoney. You try to ignore the heat from the two pairs of eyes glued to your every move. And then you duck into the dim hallway that you know leads to the individual rooms full of sin.

The first few have their blinds closed, much to the disappointment of your curiosity. However, the fourth room is fully on display. Only two others are gathered in front of the glass, paying close attention to the activities occurring on the other side. 

And what activities they are… You peer through the glass at the sight. A man is tied to a St. Andrew’s Cross, his arms and legs straining against the cuffs as a woman dressed in only a leather bustier runs her finger teasingly up and down his shaft. A second man lays beneath her, his face buried between her legs. Your attention returns to the man restrained.

What had he done to deserve such painfully pleasurable punishment? Had he done it on purpose?

As if he feels you staring at him, the man’s head lifts up and he meets your eyes. A small smile forms on his lips as he raises his chin to acknowledge you.

The woman turns to follow his gaze and raises an eyebrow at you. She hooks her finger in your direction, beckoning you to come inside. Almost subconsciously, you listen. But before you can take a step, a hand catches your wrist and tugs you back.

“What are you doing, lovely?” Hoseok’s voice jolts you from the scene that had captivated your attention. The woman in the room eyes you for a second more and then shrugs, returning to her other playthings. “You weren’t really thinking of joining them, were you?

“And so what if I was?” You reply petulantly. You cast a glance around you, noticing that the other couple watching had since disappeared and that there is no sight of Namjoon. “Where’s your other half?”

“My other half?” Hoseok’s nose crinkles adorably as he thinks, “Oh, you mean Joon? He’s taking care of something.”

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead, “He’s taking care of something? Why does that sound so sinister, Hobi?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, lovely,” Hoseok grins and then glances over your shoulder at the scene you had been watching. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

You, of course, turn immediately. The man is still tied, but now the other is sucking his dick as if his life depends on it while the woman watches with a small grin on her face. She holds a small device in her hand and is fiddling with its buttons. Then you notice the glimmering jewel that winks back at you from the ass of the man kneeling.

“It is… What do you think is hot about it?” You ask, as the tied man moans, throwing his head back and baring his throat. 

“All of it. The way she commands the room, the way the men please her, the way she tortures them. I don’t know who I’d rather be,” Hoseok lets out a small laugh, shoving a hand through his tousled hair, “Do you?”

“I’d want to be tied up,” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. Hoseok’s breath hitches in his throat as his hands come down to clench your hips.

“(y/n), lovely, I’d want to see that, too,” His eyelids are heavy as he stares down at you. One of his hands travels lower on your body, palming your ass slightly.

“H-Hoseok,” You gasp, your back arching into his touch.

“Goddamn, lovely,” Hobi moans, “I thought I might never get to hear you say my name like that again.”

Your thighs clench as you vividly recall the memory not unlike this when Joon had eaten you out against the back wall of the club and then Hoseok had slid into you and fucked you until you couldn’t walk. You definitely had cried his name more times than you could ever count.

And this makes you so confused. Does this mean he had been wanting to hear you moaning his name again? That makes no sense considering he’s sleeping with Namjoon and planning to leave you.

Hoseok must read the thoughts on your face because he sighs, bringing your hand to his lips. “Later,” He promises - of what, you don’t know. He presses a kiss to your knuckles and then disappears back into the crowded club.

“Well, that was quite a show,” An amused man emerges from the shadows, “Just when I thought you might join the Mistress with Suga and Jin, you get caught up in another. How delightful.”

Sighing, you stick your hand out to greet your contact, “Hi, Joohoney. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Joohoney’s dimples flash at you as he grins and you internally melt. God, your thing for dimples is getting out of hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, too, pet. Please, call me Jooheon.” His hand grips yours firmly as he takes you in. You pay him the same regard, eyes wandering over his black long sleeve shirt with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His shirt is tucked into slim fitting black pants and cinched with a belt that looks like it could also double as a harness. He looks expensive as hell.

And then what he says registers to you.

Groaning, you tug your hand out of his and grimace, “That wasn’t my fault! The bouncers just assumed, and I didn’t think to correct them.”

Jooheon’s grin turns wicked as he stares you down, “Oh, I’m not complaining. You can be my pet anytime you want, (y/n)…” He not-so-subtly flexes his wrist where a black choker with a silver ring in the center is wound around it twice, “This would look pretty around your neck, wouldn’t it?”

You struggle to find a response, your mouth opening and closing as you blink at the absurd turn your night has taken.

“Ah, don’t answer that. Let’s dance,” Jooheon smiles sweetly down at you like he hadn’t just asked to own you in every sexual way possible. 

So you agree, nodding slightly, and then he whisks you onto the dance floor. The music thumps through you as Jooheon drags you into the throng of the crowd. Looking around you, your eyes fall on your boys.

Hoseok and Namjoon are wrapped around each other, their bodies pressed together, hips grinding to the beat. Their eyes are both on you, their gazes absolute and piercing. Namjoon grasps Hoseok closer to him, his hands drawing the other boy further into his crotch. 

Are they really doing this right now? In front of you? While staring you down?

And so when Jooheon grabs your own hips to pull you back into him, you let him. The response from Hoseok and Namjoon is immediate. Namjoon’s nostrils flare as he watches you begin to shift your body in time with Jooheon’s. Hoseok’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek as he glares over your shoulder.

“Looks like we’re making some people mad, pet,” Jooheon laughs, his lips brushing your ear. “Are you with them?”

You lean your head back to respond, “Technically, yes. They’re my crew.”

“Well, then why does your crew look like they want to fight me for putting my hands on you?”

“Oh, they’re just protective,” You reply, “They’re in a relationship anyway, as you can see.” You wave a hand over to where Hoseok and Namjoon are murmuring to each other, almost seeming to be mirroring you and Jooheon.

The motion of your hand recaptures their attention and you swear the movement of Namjoon’s lips produces the harsh phrase of ‘I’m gonna destroy him’.

You’re almost certain that Hoseok and Namjoon are about to blow your entire deal; you cannot have that happen. And so, you turn to Jooheon and ask if you can make the trade now. Luckily, he agrees and leads you through the crowd towards a door beside the bar along the far wall.

Before you step over the threshold, you turn back. Hoseok and Namjoon are steps away from you, looking pissed. And then you let the door fall shut behind you.

The trade deal goes down fairly quickly. You tug the map out of your back pocket; Jooheon places a few stacks of currency on the table. You count it first, of course. This isn’t your first space rodeo. 

Thankfully, Jooheon is true to his word and has the full amount ready for you. You then unfold the map you had drawn and begin to explain it in detail. “So the Alravi are planning to attack the Wyxian border here, here, and here.” You point out the spots you had starred. “My informant is certain they will strike at 0400 in two rotations.”

A scoff meets your ears. One of Jooheon’s partners stands. He’s handsome and tall with full lips and sleepy eyes. “How do we know that this information is even legit, Joohoney? She could be making this up.”

Jooheon shoots you a look and you step towards the skeptic. “Well, Chae Hyungwon,” You purr, “I can guarantee that this information is as real as the tattoo of your mother’s name on your left asscheek.”

Hyungwon turns fuschia as Jooheon cackles, “Is that true, Wonnie? Do you have that?” 

“Yah!” Hyungwon glares at you, “It’s not a tattoo of my mom’s name, it’s a tattoo of my ex-girlfriend’s name! It’s not my fault they happened to share the same one.” 

Jooheon wipes tears from his eyes as he hands you your money, “Please, pet, call me for a trade anytime. This has been the most fun I’ve had in months.”

“Will do,” You grin, sliding the money into your pocket. It barely fits, but you don’t care. It always feels good to secure a bag.

You wave at Jooheon and his crew as you exit the small room and re-enter the crowded club. No further than two steps out of the door, you are thrown over someone’s shoulder.

“Hey!” You pound on your assailant’s back, “Put me down!”

“Shut it, (y/n),” Comes the growled reply. 

You still for a second in an attempt to process what the hell is happening. “Joon?!” You cry, “What the fuck! Where’s Hobi?”

“Here.” Hoseok’s voice comes from behind you and it’s devoid of any of its usual amusement. 

You curse, trying to wiggle out of Namjoon’s hold.

Thwack. Your ass stings and you gasp. Heat floods through you as you realize that Namjoon just outright spanked you in the middle of a crowded club - in front of Hoseok.  

Damn you for even thinking a deal at a sex club would go well. No one even paid the three of you any mind as Namjoon sauntered out of the club and into the night with you hitched over his shoulder and Hobi trailing behind you both.

You even hear the laughing comments of the two bouncers from earlier as they yell over to you... 

“Have fun!” 

“Come back to visit, pet!”

You flip them off, but sadly Hobi obscures the gesture from their sight. 

“I can walk, you know,” You mumble, thoroughly put out by your situation.

“Yeah, we do know, (y/n),” Hoseok scoffs, “You walked away from Joon and I just fine a few minutes ago. What happened to having one of us in the room with you?”

“I can handle myself just fine,” You retort, turning your head to assess how much further you’re going to be left hanging. You’re probably almost at your ship if you had to guess. “Plus, it was good practice for when the two of you leave me.”

Namjoon halts in his tracks and slides you off his shoulder and onto the ground. You wobble a bit from the blood rush, but he steadies you.

“What did you just say?” Namjoon’s voice is deceptively soft, his hands grip your biceps firmly. You can feel Hoseok behind you, his breathing hard.

You snap. Honestly, you’re a bit shocked it took you this long when you’d been feeling like you might crumble for days. 

Your eyes glare back at Namjoon as your lips curl into a sneer, “Yeah, I know you’re leaving me, just like I know about you and Hobi. So why don’t you drop the act like you actually care about me and fuck off.” 

Namjoon’s eyes are wide as they stare down at you. Hoseok seems to have stopped breathing altogether and a slight whine sounds from him. 

“Hoseok,” Namjoon says, “Bring her to her quarters while I set the course.” He steps around you and stalks towards your ship which is only a few paces away. 

“Come on, lovely,” Hoseok grabs your hand but you just shrug him off. A flash of hurt crosses his beautiful face and you almost cave and hug him close. But you have to be strong - just like you always have.

You march forward, heading up the ramp and onto your ship. Hoseok closes and locks the door behind you; the ship lifts off immediately.

Laughing bitterly, you head towards your quarters with Hoseok in tow, “What’s the big rush here? Can’t wait to start your own life together without me?”

“(y/n), please. Let’s talk about this,” Hobi begs, for what you’re not sure. The quiet desperation you hear in his words almost drains the fight right out of you, but you’re in too deep to stop now.

“What’s there to talk about?” Your words sting with bitterness as you enter your room, “I know you two don’t love me, and I get it. Who would? You and Joon deserve a better life. I’ll be fine without you just like I was before you came into my life.” 

Hoseok shoves a hand through his hair as he gazes sharply down at you, “Lovely, no. Don’t say such things.”

Angrily wiping away a traitorous tear, you sink onto your bed. Just when Hoseok looks like he’s about to say more, Namjoon storms in. He takes one look at you and Hoseok and sighs deeply. “What are we going to do with you, baby?”

“She thinks we don’t love her!” Hoseok cries.

Namjoon blinks and then approaches you, “Is that what you really think, (y/n)?” He bends down, his face level with yours from where you sit on your bed. Hoseok sits beside you, and you watch as his hand slowly inches towards yours.

You tug it out of reach. “I know you don’t love me, Joon,” You shrug, “And that’s okay. I’ve always been alone; it's what I know best.”

Namjoon shares a long look with Hoseok and then he turns back to face you, “Baby, how did you get these ideas in that pretty head of yours?”

Your anger boils back up, “I got them from you!” 

You spring up, standing toe-to-toe with Namjoon, “If you really want to leave to be “free to share your love”, don’t let me hold you back. After all, I’m just a drunken mistake, aren’t I? Just a nasty little hiccup in your relationship. Just a painful memory that makes you cringe. Don’t you realize how much that hurts me? I fucking love you and you both can’t stand the sight of m—!”

Namjoon’s hand grips the back of your neck as his mouth slams onto yours. Your mind blanks as you gasp, his tongue sliding over yours. You kiss him back. Your hands wind up his chest, feeling his skin burning through the flimsy mesh of his shirt. You feel another pair of hands grip your hips and that jolts you enough to come to your senses.

“Wait, wait, wait,” You pull your mouth away from Namjoon’s, “You can’t just kiss me and touch me like I’m yours when I’m not.” 

“But, lovely, you are,” Hoseok tugs you back into his body and places a light kiss on your neck, “You always have been.” His mouth feels hot as it sucks gently on your skin, undoubtedly leaving marks in its wake. 

“I-I don’t understand,” You stammer, trying to wrap your head around everything that’s going on. “I thought you were leaving me. I thought you were ashamed of that night on Xyreus. I thought you didn’t want me when you so clearly want each other.” 

“For someone so smart, you sure draw some dumb conclusions,” Namjoon mumbles, his hands cupping your face carefully. “Number one: the conversation you overheard was about how we agreed that we would never leave you.” Your breath hitches as you feel Hoseok’s hands slip around your body to toy with the hem of your crop top right under your breasts.

“Number two,” Namjoon continues, recapturing your gaze, “We are ashamed of that night on Xyreus. But what we’re ashamed of is how strongly we came onto you, how we were so sure we felt more for you than you felt for us. We couldn’t lose you. If we scared you off with how much we loved you - and still love you - we would never live with ourselves. And so we cut it off.”

“You love me?” You breathe out, “Both of you?” 

“So much, baby,” Namjoon looks down at you like you’re the most cherished thing to him. 

“So, so much,” Hoseok growls in your ear, nipping at it slightly. You shiver, your body pressing back into his. You feel his cock hard against your ass and you press back even further, craving some kind of friction. “Fuck, lovely,” His head falls to your shoulder as he grinds into you.

“Hoseok,” Namjoon’s tone is hard and full of warning. It sends a rush of heat straight to your core. 

The other boy groans but pulls back from you just a bit. You frown at the loss.

Namjoon notices and rolls his eyes, “How did I forget that you’re just as insatiable as him?” Before you can even retort, he continues, “Number three: yes, Hoseok and I want each other; but, we also want you. We talk about it all the time. How your pussy tasted on my tongue. How you felt around Hobi’s cock. How it might feel to fuck you at the same time… 

His eyes are dark, his pupils so dilated that they encompass his irises. “I think about that, too,” You bring a hand up to hold one of Joon’s as he still cradles your face. “I think about how it would feel to be between the two of you as you pound into me, using me for your pleasure.”

“She almost joined a scene tonight,” Hoseok blurts. Your eyes widen as Namjoon’s eyebrows raise. 

“Is that so, baby?” Joon murmurs, one of his thumbs brushing over your lips. “What drew you in? Hoseok and I can give it to you in any way you want; you just have to ask.���

Your thighs squeeze together as your walls clench around nothing. Of course, Namjoon’s observant eyes miss nothing and he quirks a small smile. 

“I liked how they pleased their mistress,” You gasp out, “How they touched each other to make her satisfied. I want to do that. Let me do that for you.”

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon groans, “You want to please me? Fine. Strip - both of you.” 

Hoseok immediately sets on unbuckling his harness. Meanwhile, your hands shake too much to be able to unclasp your body chain. 

“Leave it on,” Namjoon slips a finger under the chain between your breasts, “I’ve been dying to see you in this and nothing else.”

“But my shirt—!” Your protest is cut short as Joon grips the collar of your top and rips it straight off. “Namjoon!” You berate, shooting him a dirty look which he definitely doesn’t see since he’s staring at your half-naked body like it’s the sun in which he revolves around. 

“So goddamn beautiful.” Just as you think he’s going to touch you, he backs off. “Hobi, take her pants off, and then I want to watch you make her come.”

Hoseok moves to stand in front of you. You stop breathing as you take in his bare body - his cock already hard. He sinks to his knees in front of you, hands winding their way up your calves, your thighs, your ass. Hobi slowly tugs down the small zipper on the side of your pants and then pulls them off you.

He lets out a moan as soon as he realizes you aren’t wearing underwear. How could you have in tight leather pants?  

“You dirty girl,” Namjoon’s words reclaim your attention as you look up at him. He’s sitting in your desk chair, legs spread wide, making no move to hide his arousal. “Now keep your eyes on me when Hoseok fucks you with his tongue.”

You let out a moan both at Namjoon’s words and at the first brush of Hoseok’s tongue on your aching pussy.

“Gods, Joon,” Hoseok growls, “She’s so wet, so sweet.” His tongue flattens as it drags down the length of your folds before circling your clit.

You’re panting at this point, and when Hoseok lightly kisses your clit and sucks it into his mouth, your back arches. You grind your hips shamelessly down onto Hobi’s face, craving more with a desperation you haven’t felt before. 

Your eyes never leave Namjoon’s as he speaks to you in a low voice, “Fuck yeah, baby. Ride his face. Does it feel good?”

“So good,” You moan, hands winding into Hoseok’s hair as he slides his tongue inside you.

“Do you think you deserve to come, (y/n)?” Namjoon questions, his fingers steepled in front of his face as he leans forward. “Even after the stunts you pulled tonight on Naroxu?”

“Y-yes,” You answer petulantly and then jolt as Hobi spanks your ass. Your walls clench automatically around Hoseok’s tongue and he moans, the vibrations make you squirm. The pleasure builds and builds inside you, coiling in the pit of your stomach and spreading across your body.

You murmur Hoseok’s name like a mantra as your fingers dig into his hair, holding him against your pussy.  

“Stop.” Namjoon’s voice cuts through your impending bliss. Hoseok draws back and you whine at the loss of contact. 

“Joon, please,” You beg, “I’m so close!”

“I want to feel you come around my cock, baby,” Namjoon walks over to you, “Can you do that for me?” 

You nod furiously, and he smiles, his dimples peeking out at you. “Good girl.”

You watch as Namjoon strips, taking in the sight of the thickness of his thighs, the hardness of his cock. 

He kisses you swiftly and then turns you around. “I want you on all fours, baby. Go on,” Namjoon squeezes you ass and then pushes you lightly onto the bed. 

You shift onto all fours, all too aware of how much you’re on display for them. And you feel yourself getting even more turned on. 

“Damn, Joon, look at that pretty little pussy,” Hoseok groans, “It’s all ours. She’s all ours.”

You feel a finger slide into you. “Babygirl,” Namjoon groans, “When I wreck you, I want you to suck Hobi off, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” You pant, needing them both so bad. 

Namjoon chuckles darkly as Hoseok gets into position in front of you. He barely settles before you lean down to taste him. Your tongue swirls around the tip and then you take him into your mouth.

You feel Namjoon’s finger slip out of you only to be replaced by the head of his cock. As he eases into you, you groan around Hoseok’s length, making him twitch. 

Namjoon slowly begins moving in and out of you. “You feel so nice, baby,” He murmurs, gripping your hips, “So hot and tight around my cock.” 

You clench around him and Namjoon moans, “Fuck, baby, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna come too soon.” You clench again, because you’re a brat.

Thwack. Namjoon’s hand comes down hard on your ass and stays there, kneading the sting out slowly. His pace picks up. His cock slamming into you, his hips grinding into your ass with each thrust. Soon enough, you’re hurtling towards the edge once again. You release Hoseok from your mouth; and instead, you focus on moving one of your hands up and down his shaft as you lap at his tip.

You feel yourself gripping Joon tightly as you move your hips back to meet each of his thrusts. “You gonna come, babygirl?” Namjoon spanks you again as his other hand reaches around your body to rub your clit. 

You come with a scream, your vocabulary erased to the point where you only know the names of your lovers. Namjoon continues to pound into you, carrying you through your orgasm. 

But still, you’re not satisfied. “Hoseok,” You peer up at your sunshine, “I want you inside me, too.”

“Lovely,” Hoseok sighs, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” You nod emphatically, shaking your ass slightly.

Still inside you, Joon groans, “We’ve unleashed a monster, Hoseok. Go grab the lube from your room, yeah?”

“Why? I have some,” You point towards your bedside drawer. “It’s in there.”

Hoseok opens your drawer and curses, “Lovely, have you been fucking yourself with these toys?”

“No,” You retort, getting up from your bed and ignoring the noise of protest that Joon makes when he slips out of you. “I just stare at them for the aesthetic, Hobi.” You move him aside with your hips as you grab the lube from its spot.  

Hoseok bites down on your neck. “Such a brat,” He mumbles into your skin as he kisses the mark he just made.

They don’t know the half of it... You grin, “Now, are you both going to fuck me? Or should I go back to take those bouncers up on their offer?” 

No sooner had the words left your mouth than Namjoon grabs you, wrapping your legs around his waist and sinks his cock back inside you. “You think that’s funny, baby?” He growls into your ear, “You’re not even going to remember their existence when Hobi and I are done with you.”

You moan as you feel Hoseok’s finger teasing your ass, getting you ready to take him. The coolness of the lube sends a shiver down your spine as you eagerly anticipate being full of both your boys. “Please, Hoseok,” You whine, desperate for him. You grind your hips down onto Joon as best you can, and when you feel the first gentle touch of Hoseok’s cock against your hole, you throw your head back so it rests on his shoulder. 

Hoseok sinks into you inch by inch, torturously slow. You’re panting now as you are stretched around the two of them.

“Gods-fucking-damn,” Hobi moans, his hips meeting your ass as he bottoms out inside you. “Joonie, I can feel you. Gods, you’re so tight, lovely.”

“Please,” You cry. You need them to move, to fill you up with their come.  

And when they finally start moving in and out of you, you think you might be ascending into the astral plane. Namjoon’s mouth lowers to suck at your nipples. Hoseok’s hands roam around to flick and play with your clit. You’re so overwhelmed by the multiple sensations, your hands digging into Namjoon’s hair, holding him close to you.

“I’m gonna come,” Hoseok whines, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his hips stuttering as he chases his high.

“Me too. Come with us, baby,” Namjoon orders, his own voice straining as he shifts your legs up higher to get deeper inside of you.  

Tears stream down your cheeks as his cock hits that spot inside you, and you’re coming. Your walls clench down around both of their cocks, milking them. Their cum fills you up with warmth as your pussy continues to pulse around them. 

“Oh, lovely,” Hoseok sighs, his voice breaking as he thrusts shallowly in and out of you, riding out his orgasm.

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Namjoon places light kisses all over your chest, “You were made for us.”

You can’t even find words as they eventually pull out of you. Cum drips down your legs as Joon sets you down. You watch as Hoseok swipes at it with two fingers and then brings it up inside you. “Want you to be full of us always,” He says, placing a swift kiss to your lips.

“My heart already is,” You murmur, your lips twitching as Hoseok groans at your cheesiness.

“Baby,” Namjoon sighs, his arms wrapping around you, “That was terrible.” 

“Please,” You roll your eyes, “You love it.”

“Yeah,” They reply, “I guess we do.”

© luxekook do not repost, edit or translate

[a-very-bored-blogger]

Valorant Streamer! AU!:

(doing Sova, Jett, Sage first)

Sova

Name: Sova Arkhipov (full name)

Also known as: Sova, Hunter (streaming name), Owl - Boy (ocassional fan nickname)

Streams at Twitch, Youtube

Location: Moscow, Russia

Bio: 18 year old Sova just move out of his babushka's house in order to find life in the city as well as go to college. He decided to go to Moscow, and is now staying at a budget apartment as well as going to college for his bachelor's degree. He used to be a big Overwatch fan at the age of 15-16 (this is set in 2021) and noticed that the community is only getting bigger so he decided to try streaming part time in order to get some extra cash.

He started streaming for 1-2 months, making content speaking in Russian. When he noticed that his viewers aren't reaching to a big audience, he tried to switch it up by speaking english instead of russian.

After 2 months of speaking English on his channel (be it Twitch or YouTube) he went viral as a Hanzo main who killed everyone with his ult (and got it on camera)

I headcanon him as a Hanzo main because of how his gameplay is kinda similar to how Sova is played at Valorant (good aim is needed for both of these guys due to them both playing as a combat-bow player)

Just like how Dream is the king of Minecraft Speedruns, Sova is known as the king of Overwatch Headshots

Sage

Sage, probably a Mercy main

Sage is an 18 year old who goes to an international school in Korea (her parents are Chinese though but she is born in Korea due to her father's job)

She's about to enter college when she started streaming on Twitch

Known for her English gameplay as well as her gameplays with Jett (a junior from school that she considers as her bestie)

She's known for planning out strategies as well as telling Jett how to utilize her gameplay to the max

Sage has really terrible aim, as well as a passion for medicine. Kinda why she relates most to Mercy and why she always chooses Mercy

Without Jett, she can die literally (and without Sage, Jett is also dead since she's the type to act before she thinks)

Curses in chinese and delivers the coolest one liners (and have ocassional chinese lessons during streams)

Jett

Is a Korean that is one year younger than Sage

They met at school and Jett encouraged Sage to get into Overwatch

"Sage you should take a break and start having some fun!"

She streams together so much with Sage, they have a conjoined channel together where they do dumb stuff (trying Peanut Butter and Pickles, 5 Minutes Craft hacks and stuff like that)

Basically Dan and Phil except they actively play Overwatch

A lot of people encourage them to have a collab with Sova

They're planning to have an Among Us gameplay with other people soon but it keeps getting postphoned

She mains D/Va but usually changes agents

Her parents work in tech companies that resulted in her getting a decent gaming laptop to play on (and Sage usually dying because of her barely working 12 year old laptop)

I'll do all the others once I get home! Comment which players I should do next!!

[story-collector]

The Family We Chose

Part 5

So I just realized I fucked up the ages...like I didn’t calculate something correctly because Damian is 9 when he leaves them...and he’s supposed to be 13 when they see him again but they were 16 when he left and they are supposed to be 17/18 and it doesn’t line up....

Change Damian to 10 when he leaves, they will stay 16....they will be 18 when he sees them next and he will be 12 almost 13.Fixed

???....timeskip I guess

Two years ago I left them, leaving Wayzz behind with Marinette. I glanced to the sketchbook on my desk, almost full, of drawings of my old...and new family.

When I was first brought to my father I hated every single one of his sons and him. I wanted nothing to do with them, I wanted my family, the one I chose.

Unfortunately I knew that wasn’t possible. I knew that the league wouldn’t attack them anymore with my grandfather being dead but I had no idea what my father would try to do. So I left them alone, I stayed away. They had wonderful and successful lives, they didn’t need me to get in the way.

When I became Robin I felt like I was betraying my family, like I was betraying Marinette. They had kept me from the fighting, despite how I had been raised, but they had kept me occupied and gave me things to do. My father didn’t seem like he really cared what happened and he had swept us all into his little mission against crime.

Now two years later I could see he really did love us but he just didn’t know how to express that at all. My brothers were surprisingly better at it than him and I had grown fairly close to them. Now I held them to almost the same esteem as the miraculous team. In the end I think, if given the choice, I would still chose to follow Ladybug. She was the first person that really showed me real love and real care. She had treated me as my age but still as an equal. She had been a big sister, almost like a mother to me.

I missed all of them. Sparring with the boys and patrolling with the girls. I missed their cuddles, their hugs. I missed when Max would show me things on his laptop, whether it was a funny cat video or when he taught me how to hack I still enjoyed my time with him. Adrien had taught me fencing. It had been very similar to a katana but it was more for show. He also taught me a lot about modeling. Kim loved to soar with me and taught me how to really push my personal limits in training, I still used his techniques today. Nathaniel was a fellow artists and they could have spent hours drawing together. Nath had shown him plenty of tips for drawing and I had become better with them. He had also shown me how to fully operate our tech system, from the communication system to the cameras that he had hacked into. The Batcave was actually fairly similar and I had learned the computer functions easily.

Chloe had been someone I had become suprisingly close to. Our personalities were very system but I had learned that she cared deeply from the bottom of her heart about people. When she was hurt, she would be broken for days untill she pulled herself together. I felt especially bad for leaving when I thought of her. She had taught me how to find all the good gossip and how to seem almost all knowing. I still used her technics today and because of that I was always the most informed person in the manor. Kagami really was like an older sister. She taught me sword technics I didn’t know and would spar with me. Secretly she was also a genius about animals. We bonded over that. I still carried that live for animals now. Alix was crazy. I had loved skating with her. Together we had figured out I was a natural skateboarder and she had gotten me one. Unfortunately I had to leave it behind but when I came here I got another one and had designed it similar to her hero uniform.

The two people I was probably closest to had been Luka and Marinette. Luka had taught me how to sing and play guitar. Other times he had just let me curl up next to him and he would play the guitar and sing to me for hours. He was a big brother to me and I missed him so much. I still played the guitar, but very rarely and only in private. No one in my new family knew I could play.

Marinette had been mom, or big sister. She had always been there for me. As I had lived alone in the base we had grown close. She had been the one to find me, the one to help heal me, and she was the one who came every day in the morning to see me and the one who would tuck me in at night. She had always been on call for me whenever I needed her. She was more reliable than my new family all together. I felt the worst about leaving her.

I stared out my window to the manor grounds. They were empty and it was dark, my one night off patrol a week. The sky was clear and as I looked at the moon I imagined my family was looking at it to.

In Paris

In the two years that Damian had been gone we had worked harder to finish Hawkmoth off for good but we couldn’t find out who he was. We spent hours pouring over ever single scrap of what could even be slightly considered evidence and we found nothing. Some days I found myself looking for Damian to see if he wanted to help.

Damian was brilliant, he was probably even smarter now in the years he had been away. Two years...it seemed like yesterday where he would be at the table with me as I looked over the Akumas map. I sighed and looked over it again. Still nothing.

A rattle in the ceiling made me look up to see me partner in crime, the one who was there with me when this it all started. He came down to my level and purred into the hug he gave me.

“We’ll find him one day”

I couldn’t tell If he was talking about Damian or Hawkmoth but I agreed with him fully. Chat Noir returning meant that Alix and Kim would be coming by soon to start the night patrol. That meant it was time for me to go home.

I groaned thinking about the essays I had to write and the math I needed to do at home...and the two dresses I need to make for Penny and the suit for Jagged. Oh well, coffee was a hero’s best friend after all. I said goodbye to the other hero’s, my family, and sent my yo-yo out to a nearby chimney. The sound of Chat Noirs staffed extending joined me moments later.

We traveled in silence till we made it to my parents bakery. We landed on my balcony and detransformed. We sat on the chair and just talked for another hour. We had been partners for almost 5 years now. I had just turned 18 and the others were close behind me. My business had skyrocketed and I was already looking at new places to live in and colleges to got to....after I defeated Hawkmoth.

We also talked about the school trip that we had won recently. I remember the countless hours slaving away to win this opportunity for a class who didn’t even know that I had done it. Lie-la was the apparent savior of the class for this. Whatever.

Luka would be the only one staying behind, Kagami having grabbed a spot with our class for the trip. So much planning would need to be done for this trip. We need to figure out patrols with the time difference. We had the app to alert us but other than that and Luka we would be completely blind to Paris, the news of Hawkmoth having been blocked from the rest of the world.

We had a long few months ahead of us.

Taglist:

@buginetye @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @dood-space @silvergold-swirl @toodaloo-kangaroo @moonlightstar64 @greatcatblaze



[the-story-of-a-teen]

#mystory

I got inspired by a youtube video, which was a talk by a father that lost his son to suicide. This is what I wish I could tell my parents, when I was a teenager. (I’m 24 now)

If you are suicidal please call the suicide hotline for your country or talk to a mental health professional. TW: This posts discusses suicide, eating disorders, suicidal idealization, religious trauma, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, sexual assault, slut shaming.

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01/01/2010

That was the day I was the closest to killing myself, I wanted to poison myself, cut myself, or access the guns, of which I knew were the keys were and I knew where the ammunition was. The thing that stopped myself was my friend Edward, who you claimed was a devil worshipper, a bad influence, and a ‘hussy’. Edward was the only person who seemed to understand me, who took time to be my friend, and would rant with me about the things we went through. 

I don’t know how many times I tried talking to you over the years, those times when I went “Hey mom, hey dad, can we talk soon?” “Hey mom, hey dad, can I talk to you but you have to promise not to get mad.” “Hey somethings going on.” but every time I did that, you would get angry, get upset, or invalidate my feelings completely. You didn’t even seem to care that I was struggling, even though I made it as obvious as I could as a 13 year old could. Instead of making time to talk to me, you tried to get me to talk on your time/terms, when I wasn’t ready to talk to you about it. This wasn’t the first time you had done this either. I remember as a child I would try and tell you things and you would shush me, we even had a little nonverbal cue to when I wanted to talk to you, I would hold your wrist when I wanted to tell you something, but you would ignore that as well, no matter how long I waited. 

This is why I felt like I could never talk to you about things, you would brush me off as unimportant, you would tell me that without ever saying the words. You didn’t care if I wanted to tell you about something I found interesting, or wanted to ask you if I could go play with my friends. 

This leads me into the next reason, you would never let me out of your sight, let me have anything private, or simply do things by myself. Even if I wanted to go play with my friends on the playground less right outside the building you were in, I needed to ask your permission, tell you exactly who I was playing with, and make sure my friends also had permission (when they didn’t need permission). As I grew older this type of overprotection grew more and more. I had to ask you to play in the drive way or back yard, to have my friend’s parents talk to you when we wanted to have a sleep over, to have food from the fridge, to watch tv, to play pinball on the computer, to read, to do anything I wished to do. You then wondered why I had separation issues, you NEVER let me be alone. When I was 10 or 11 I started keeping a journal. It had a lock on it, and I put the keys in a safe place that I thought was secret. One day the keys disappeared. I had put them back, but still searched through my room and the rest of the house, except your room, because you wanted your privacy. The day after that my journal was different from how I originally put it. I thought it was weird, and hid it somewhere else, but you found that spot too.  You then brought up very private things I had put into my journal as a vent, things I had certainly never told you, and things I swore I had never told anyone else unless they swore on their mother’s grave and promised not to tell. 

You took away my door when I would accidentally slam it when I got emotional, and because you ‘couldn’t trust me to be alone’. You wouldn’t let me hang a curtain or anything so I could change and not have people walk in on me.

When I got old enough to have a cellphone, I caught you sneaking into my room and taking my cellphone, or sitting in my desk chair and going through the messages. You would then interrogate me on my text messages, and would openly take my phone and go through my messages, despite me pleading you not to. This lead to me intentionally setting alarms that would go off through the night, and could only be stopped with a passcode which only I knew.

You would interrogate me any time I wanted to go on the computer to do anything, you forced me to lie to have any sort of freedom to talk to people, look at memes, listen to music, or play games on the computer. You even put parental controls on my computer that would monitor everything and take screen shots, I was allowed exactly 45 minutes a day, which you wouldn’t compromise on, even when I was talking to my friends that lived hours away from us. Then you would get mad when I would trick you into allowing me access so I could change those settings, what else could I do? There was no compromise. Additionally you made me give you every password to every account I ever had, and would get mad when I would change the passwords because you would go through private messages and post on my accounts. Even when I was almost 18, and handed over my computer to show you the receipts, you couldn’t help but go through the whole conversation, even though I told you not to and you promised not to. 

On the xbox you would hack into my account (Which I had a passcode on), and would read through the messages, you would have to approve every game and made sure it stood up to your religious and moral standards, or hear me plea to be able to have a game I was interested in. Even when you had approved the game, you had to watch me play it, I wasn’t allowed to enjoy the game on my own.

You thought you were entitled to walk into my room at any time. You wouldn’t listen when I would tell you ‘one moment, I’m changing.’ Instead you would waltz right in, even when I was naked. You would barge into my bathroom, even when I told you to wait. Then you would get mad when I was upset over this. Maybe I didn’t want my parents to see me naked, even though ‘you saw me naked as a baby and child’.

How was I supposed to talk to you openly when you would violate my privacy? When I could have nothing to myself, be able to vent and get my feelings out in a healthy way, to talk about things I didn’t feel I needed to or could tell you, to talk about things I know you all opposed and would interrogate me on, to just talk about day to day things? 

When I started dating I was hypersexual. I admit that. When puberty hit I became very sexual and physically affectionate without knowing it, but you started to analyze and criticize me for every action I made. I was touch starved, and craving genuine affection. I wanted to feel loved, to feel wanted, to feel appreciated, and to feel alive. I felt dead inside. I barely got any affection, even from my parents, from other family members, and those I was childhood friends with and was no longer close to. I went to seek that affection with other people, I called my friends parents ‘mom and dad’ because of this and how you all were. You emotionally neglected me. Sure I had physical things, but that wasn’t what I wanted or needed. I need your love, your time, and your acceptance. The only way I got that was through teenage boys that would give me their love, time, acceptance, and physical affection. I even went out seeking any of those things online, which lead me to an early discovery of porn (I was 11), of online chat rooms where I could do smut rps and flirt (I was 13), and teenage dating sites ((common in the 2000′s)(I was 14)). Instead of figuring out what the root of this was, and trying to listen, actually listen, you went about accusing me of different things related to what I had found, even when I wasn’t. You were telling me that you were expecting me to do those things, and that I had to lie to you all to have any sort of freedom. You though dating was only to get married, you had the ‘date to mate’ mentality.

I started dressing in popular clothes of that time, and finding ways of expressing myself and my feelings. Gone were the days of pink dresses and frills. I liked black, blue, and purple, rather than pink and purple. I wanted to wear tighter fitting shirts that were comfortable, easy to move around in, and had fun graphics and words on the chest area. I wanted to wear cute skirts and shorts, as well as skinny jeans, and leggings. You were unhappy with all of it. I was 13 and a C cup, it wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t find anything cute that would comfortably fit. I liked wearing shorter shorts, skirts, skinny jeans, and leggings because they were comfy, easy to move around in, and made me feel free and happy.  I can’t tell you how many times you criticized my hair, make up, and clothes. You would constantly tell me that I looked like a hussy, like a prostitute, like an attention seeker, like a devil worshipper, like I was ‘asking to be raped’. You said the same things about other people behind their backs, and you didn’t like it when I used your religion against you. You would ask me if I would wear that around ‘God’, or ‘Jesus,  and I would say yes. You would tell me that I would be distracting to guys, or that they would look at me a certain way. I simply said that they shouldn’t look if they can’t control themselves, and that the bible said that any man who looked at a woman with lust in his eyes should gouge them out. You hated when I was right, and would deny that you were wrong.

How was I not supposed to be hypersexual, even when I had been sexualized and been deprived of any affection since I was a child?

At the age of 6 you had me start working out because I had “baby fat” and was overweight at my age. You started only having and making healthy things to eat, then would get mad when I liked the taste of some of them, and would eat more than my ‘portion size’. You limited my food intake, and made me work out so I could ‘loose weight’. At 9 this all got worse, as I was beginning to go into puberty, was getting breasts, and had more baby fat moving to my hips. You started humiliating me for getting seconds at dinner, for eating three meals a day, and for continuing to go through puberty. You would also get mad at me for having things like white bread (I hate the texture of wheat and wholegrain), white rice (I don’t like the texture of brown rice), or any sort of junk food. It was no surprise that I started to starve myself so I would fit your standards. 

Why wouldn’t I have an eating disorder when that was all I heard all day every day?

These are the main things that lent to my depression, made it worse, and made me want to kill myself from an early age. These are the main behaviors that made me despise my parents and cut them out of my life. These are what you should avoid. If you want to have your kids in your life, don’t do these. 

[bacomon-art-blog]

I found your blog right now, and can I say how much I love your art??? Your expressions and designs are so fun and I can’t stop looking at them. Would you mind explaining more about your Camp Cretaceous and SCP AU? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to though!

I’m sorry, I’m overwhelmed with emotions since your art is so good.

Omg! Thank you so much! You can not believe how happy seeing this ask got me! As for the AUs? I would be more than happy to info dump about them, but be warned the SCP au doesn’t have as much development as the Camp Cretaceous AU.

SCP AU:

Originally, the digidestined were SCPs themselves, with their own unique abilities, and I will probably put more thought into that idea, but I decided to change it after I had issues thinking about what to do with the characters. Now, the AU has the SCP Foundation finding out about the digital world and decided to label it as SCP-9901, with the digimon and the digidestined labeled SCP-9901-02 and SCP-9901-03 respectively. This leads to digidestined across the world being kidnapped by the foundation and trying to escape. Some of the digidestined get ahold of some of SCPs to help them escape, some being ones that already exist or some that I thought up.

Camp Cretaceous Au:For this au, I will talk about each character separately, and will only mention stuff from the first two episodes.

Sora: She is 18 years old and one of the Camp Counselors at Camp Cretaceous.(Don’t worry, They had to take classes before this!) Her father got her and Tai the job. He works as a digsite researcher for Jurassic World. She and Tai were already friends before getting the job, and both taught children how to play soccer which is why her father thought they would be good for the job. Her mom didn’t think it was a good idea as she thought Sora could get her, and boy was she right! She and the other counselors will follow Roxie and Dave’s storyline where they try to find the kids. Things will go differently for them as they won’t end up on the boats like Roxie and Dave did.

Taichi: You already know that he only took the job because he had to make sure that Kari was safe. Most info for Taichi is already explained in Sora’s paragraph, but I do plan for him and Yamato to have several arguments throughout the storyline, though I plan for them to better get to know each other after they have to go search for the kids. For episode two, instead of two campers going to the Carnotaurus cage, I plan for Yamato and Taichi to go with Daisuke. Yeah, Sora wasn’t too happy about them endangering one of the campers, but hey, Daisuke had the time of his life and helped save Yamato.

Yamato: He is 18 like Taichi and Sora, which should have made working with him easier, but no. He decided to be difficult. He’s only here to make sure his brother is safe. (He had to beg a lot for his friend to get him the job.) He’s good with the kids at least. The kids also like to hear him play songs,which ends with Miyako always freaking out about how they have a famous rockstar as a counselor. He has issues getting the youngest kid to relax,but Sora seems to have got it covered.

Takeru: He is 15 and he got invited to come to Camp Cretaceous after winning a writing contest involving the Park. He met Hikari before any of the others as they arrived earlier with the Camp Counselors. He and Daisuke argue a bit, and sometimes Miyako will join in. The others usually don’t though Iori asked them to be quiet once, which led to Daisuke getting a bruise on the head, and all four parties involved apologising. Though now, they’ve all learned that Iori can kick their asses if he ever chose to. Takeru plans on writing a book about their times here with Hikari’s beautiful pictures to go along with it. Once they found out Iori drew, they dragged him into it too.

Hikari: She got invited to Camp Cretaceous after Ingen saw her photography blog. Her first day sadly didn’t lead to anything interesting, but she, Takeru, and Daisuke all snuck out to go see if she can get any cool photos of the velociraptors. They almost got killed if the counselors hadn’t shown up. The Counselors scolded them for a while, and Daisuke was barred from going to Wu’s lab, she and Takeru wouldn’t have been able to either, if their brothers weren’t their counselors. Poor Daisuke though. Atleast, she won’t have to deal with his flirting while they are at the lab.

Daisuke: Daisuke is 15 years old and his soccer team is sponsored by Ingen, and that led to him and the captain of the other soccer team sponsored by Ingen to be Invited to Camp Cretaceous. He was so happy to hear that he and Ken both got invited. After their teams got sponsored by ingen, they had to go against each other a lot. This led to a rivalry between them, and it sadly wasn’t a friendly one at first, but then Ken warmed up to him and they became quick friends. He and Ken get to play soccer with two of their counselors as they are also soccer players. Isn’t that the coolest! The other counselors and campers try to play too, sometimes. Hikari seems to know a bit about soccer from her brother, while Takeru and Iori have experience with sports, so they fared better than Miyako and Yagami. Once when Iori asked him to be quiet, he retaliated by calling him a pipsqueak and Iori threw a book at him, though he had already realized that it was uncalled for before the book was thrown.

Ken: He had never really been a fan of Ingen, his parents weren’t either, but he could never really remember why. He thinks it has something to do with Sam. So when he found out that ingen would be sponsoring his team, he was not pleased. He knew it would help his players though, so he allowed for the sponsorship. He found the captain of the other team rather annoying and overbearing, and chose to kick his ass in soccer. Though one day, he was accidentally injured by Daisuke, and Daisuke helped him get to the bench. They ended up talking some more, and became friends. When he and Davis were invited to the camp, he planned on declining, but Davis got him to agree. It took a lot of persuading for his parents to agree as well. The first day wasn’t that eventful for him, though he knew that was different for some of the others. Davis told him all about it when he woke up. Sadly, Davis wasn’t allowed to go with them to the lab, but they still had fun. One of the assistant doctors was very nice to them all, though he felt like he had seen the guy before. He couldn’t place where though.

Iori: He is the youngest of the Campers, at 13 years old, but he would say that he’s also one of the most mature out of the group. Especially since he didn’t try to get himself killed on the first night, unlike some of the other campers. He doesn’t understand why Miyako was jealous, sure they got to see velociraptors but they also almost died, yeah no thanks. Though, he’s pretty sure Miyako wasn’t as jealous once she found out Daisuke had to clean dino excrement. When he got to the lab, Miyako ran off, but he atleast got to talk to the nice doctor that was walking them around. He got to watch some ankylosaurus hatch, the doctor even let him hold and name one. He remembers the doctor mentioning it imprinted on him or something like that. Sad that he didn’t get to learn the doctor’s name.

Miyako: Miyako is 16 years old and she wasn’t even invited to the camp, but Cody wasn’t going to go unless she went, and Ingen was surprisingly easy to hack anyway. She was excited to see what Camp Cretaceous had to offer too! The first day was pretty boring, but then she found out that some campers snuck out without her! Though Daisuke ended up with a rather unfavorable job, instead of going to the lab, so that sucks for him. While she was there, she decided to snoop inside Dr.Wu’s office. She got caught though, and Dr.Wu forced them to leave. Cody was pretty unhappy with her afterwards, Hikari told her about what happened while she was snooping, and explained why he was upset. She and Cody talked though, and he wasn’t too mad anymore.

Jou: That assistant doctor that’s been mentioned, yeah that's him. He is 19 years old and he works for Dr.Wu. He thinks Dr.Wu is pretty pretentious. His parents and one of his brothers work for Ingen, too. When he’s not working at the lab, he is hanging out with his friends, Mimi and Izzy. He even got them access to check out the lab. While they were doing that, he was assisting in giving some kids a tour. They were all very nice, and the youngest one seemed to really like the baby ankylosauruses, one even imprinted on him. Jou decided to let the kid name that one. Sadly, the kids had to leave after one of them was caught in Dr.Wu’s lab. This meant his friends had to leave too.

Mimi: She is a famous 17 year old vlogger and singer. She wanted to get some good videos on the park, and it was a perfect excuse to see Jou! She dragged Izzy along for the ride too! They spent their first week there just checking things out and making silly videos, but for the second week they decided to do a deep dive, starting with the lab. They just looked around the lab in the beginning, but then they got bored and decided to check Wu’s office. They found out about some weird dinosaur before they heard someone coming and left the room.(It was only Miyako though,) What they found seemed to upset Izzy though, she doesn’t know why though.

Koushiro: He is a famous programmer that sometimes joins Mimi in her videos. He lost his parents in an accident involving the construction of Jurassic World, and he plans to find out more about what happened that day. He goes to the park with Mimi, using the excuse that he also wanted to see Jou. When Jou invited them to the lab, he knew that it would be the best chance of finding out more information. What he found was somehow worse though. Did they really think this dinosaur would be better than the last one they made? He needed to know if Jou knew about this, but he couldn’t do that if Mimi was with him. Maybe he could ask his friend Tai if he could get him in, since he’s working at the camp for the summer. (Sadly, he doesn’t get the chance though.)

God, that was so many words. If you have anything else to ask, feel free to!

[slade-neko]

Saw this video game tag thing pop up on my dash a few days ago. Wanted to do it.

1. First game you played obsessively? Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, I believe I was 5yo. Still waiting on that FF7 Remake treatment.

2. A game that has influenced you creatively? Writing, drawing, etc. Well if I play a game and like it, then I'll create sims of it. Does that count?

3. Who did you play with as a kid? My brother from the day I was born.

4. Who do you play with now? My brother FROM THE DAY I WAS BORN.

5. Ever use cheat codes? I wasn't lying when I made this post. {link}

6. Ever buy strategy guides? Yes! Mainly to look at the artwork though. (Don't need no guide!)

7. Any games you have multiple copies of? Lots of games, most being Left 4 Dead with 6 copies (3 Xbox 360, 1 PC case, 2 PC digitally.) What can I say, its a GOOD GAME!

8. Rarest/Most expensive game in your collection? Gold cartridge Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time (maybe that's rare?)

9. Most regrettable purchase? I don't regret my purchases, but I have received games I have never played like Cubix (PS2) no clue where that game came from, but I have it somehow. Madagascar (Xbox 360) came with my Xbox 360, never opened it from its case. And Monsters Inc. Scream Arena (Gamecube) or something... it was a gift.

10. Ever go to a midnight game release or stand in line for hours? No, because then I'd have to interact with people.

11. Have you ever made new friends from playing video games? I'm only friends with people BECAUSE of video games, so yes.

12. Ever get picked on for liking games? No, that'd be ridiculous.

13. A game you’ve never played that everyone else has? Probably a lot, I'd say Call of Duty, but I technically played CoD 1, 2, and 4. The campaign mode was alright, but I don't really care for CoD games at ALL.

14. Favorite game music? Koji Kondo and Grant Kirkhope are two BIG ones.

15. If it was a requirement to get a game related tattoo, what would you pick? Triforce is the most basic option, but I'd rather not get a tattoo.

16. Favorite game to play with your friends IRL? Super Smash Bros. Brawl with hacks, but that was over a decade ago.

17. Ever lose a friend over a game? No, that'd be ridiculous.

18. Would you date someone that hates gaming? No, that'd be RIDICULOUS.

19. Favorite handheld console? PSP. 3DS is great, but PSP Monster Hunter has ALL of my portable gaming memories. Like playing in school after End of Grade tests with my friend.

20. Game that you know like the back of your hand? Sims 4 I like to think I know everything about Left 4 Dead. Quite a bit about Monster Hunter, more so of a series though than a specific game.

21. Game that you didn’t like or understand as a kid but love now? I'd say Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic. I loved it as a kid, but had a lot of complex pen & paper RPG mechanics that I never understood. I understand a lot more of it now, but its still complex as all heck. I just know you hit things, they die.

22. Do you wear game related clothing/accessories? That's the only thing I wear.

23. The game that you’ve logged the most hours into? Not sure so I'll list a few. Sims 4, Smash Bros. Brawl, Monster Hunter (its a series though), or Left 4 Dead

24. First Pokemon game? Leaf Green

25. Were you ever an arcade game player? No, don't like paying to play.

26. Ever form any gaming rivalries? No.

27. Game that makes you rage? I don't get mad at games, but I had a custom modded Hard Eight mutation in Left 4 Dead that is absolute bullsh*t!

28. Ever play in a tournament? No, because then I'd have to interact with people.

29. What is your gaming set up? A giant wall of video game consoles spanning from NES to Switch, 4 TVs, but I sit at a desk with a PC.

30. How many consoles do you own? "I own every console that's ever existed." - I Don't Play Games When I Play Games (My STRENTH) original song by Smooth McGroove BUT no seriously I own 32 consoles including handhelds.

31. Does the 3DS and/or Virtual Boy hurt your eyes or give you headaches? Yes. 3DS gave me headaches though I only really played with the 3D feature in Ocarina of Time 3D. I think my eyes broke because I couldn't get my 3D to work very well after.

32. Did you ever play a game based on your favorite show/cartoon/movie/comic? Sure I play games based on a lot of things. Literally any anime game. If I had to pick Dragon Ball Xenoverse is kinda like a dream Dragon Ball game. Oh, Attack on Titan 2 is pretty neat too!

33. Did you ever have any bootleg games or plug-n-play games? Some SEGA plug-n-play thing once. Played it like once and now its lost to time (or my closet.)

34. Do either of your parents play video games? Yes. Mom and Dad played NES Super Mario Bros. My Dad went HARD at that game until he saved the Princess. Then he quit forever.

35. Ever work in a game store? Or do you have a favorite game shop? "Hi. Welcome to Gamestop!"I never want to hear that again, but it was my main store until I went full digital/ online orders.

36. Have you ever shed actual blood, sweat or tears over a game? No, I don't tend to get upset or emotional, but Bill dying in Left 4 Dead made me pretty pissed.

37. Have you played E.T. for the Atari 2600? Do you think that’s the worst game ever, or do you have another nomination? Never played it. I don't really play "bad" games, but maybe Sims 4.

38. A game you’re ashamed to admit that you like? The Sims 4

39. A sequel that you would die for them to make? Dragon's Dogma 2 WHICH I think is actually in development, so I'd have to say Fallout New Vegas 2. C'mon Bethesda you cowards, hand the keys back over to Obsidian so they can make another good Fallout game!

40. What to you think of virtual reality headsets or motion controls? Two part question, two answers. VR Headset to immerse in world, yes. Motion Controls, no.

41. A genre that you just can’t get into? MOBAs and MMOs. I don't like paying to keep playing.

42. Maybe it wasn’t your first game, but what was the game that started you on your path to nerdiness? Nintendo 64 opened me up to what video games could be as a kid. Sad to say my parents' NES didn't really do that for me. And years later Fallout 3 was a big game changer for me too.

43. Ever play games when you really should have been concentrating on something else? Every day of my LIFE.

44. Arcade machine that has consumed the most of your quarters? None. I'd rather emulate.

45. How are you at Mario Kart? Pretty dang good. 3-STARS MARIO KART WII, BABY!

46. Do you like relaxing games like Animal Crossing or Harvest Moon? Yes, both of those. I preferred when Animal Crossing had more character to it. New Horizons looks so pretty, but feels so bland compared to classic AC.

47. Do you like competitive games? No. Not really. Usually amongst friends or if I can get competitive against AI Bots. I love my machine bot friends cause they don't cry like 10 year olds when they lose.

48. How long does it take your to customize your player character? Too long. I've seriously restarted games because I wasn't happy with my character's appearance.

49. In games where you can pick your class, do you always tend to go for the same type of character? Yes, I am always the magic man, my brother is always brute warrior, and my friend is the ranger.

50. If you were a game designer, what masterpiece would you create? I don't really know. Honestly, I'd rather mod already good games to make them better than create something completely new.

51. Have you ever played a game for so long that you forgot to eat or sleep? No, that'd be ridiculous. But I've had a friend fall asleep playing games at my house 3 different times and currently dozes off during our Minecraft sessions. So, maybe that's not a completely ridiculous thing after all.

52. A game that you begged your parents for as a kid? Kirby 64 apparently. My brother tells me we had to count out pennies to buy it. I must've been too young with no recollection, but I believe it.

53. What’s your opinion on DLC these days? It's good if its not in the game's files from the beginning and is actually developed AFTER launch... and pre-order bonuses should be standard DLC a month or two later. Some games have content lost to time because of that pre-order bullsh*t.

54. Do you give in to Steam sales? Of course. If you want a game and its on sale then why not? I typically wait just for Steam sales to get games.

55. Did you ever make someone you hated in the Sims and did mean stuff to them? No? I typically make people and characters I like in Sims. I've made villains like Dio, but he's an anime villain and I don't really HATE him despite the horrible things he's done.

56. Did you ever play Roller Coaster Tycoon and kill off your guests? No. Never played that game.

57. Did you ever play a game to 100% or get all of the achievements? I try to for all the games I really like.

58. If you can only play 3 games for the rest of your life, which ones do you pick? The Sims 4, Skyrim, & Fallout: New Vegas. Mods make them live forever. Left 4 Dead and Monster Hunter are good choices too.

59. Do you play any cell phone games? Those aren't games.

60. Do you know the Konami Code? No? But I'll take a guess. Is it make an IP and forget it exists?

61. Do you trade in your games or keep them forever? Keep forever... even the bad ones.

62. Ever buy a console specifically to play one game? PS4 Pro for Monster Hunter World. It was basically for early access since the PC version was being developed and releasing after PS4, but I don't like waiting.

63. Ever go to a gaming convention or tournament? Sort of. Been to anime cons and walked into the gaming tournament rooms only to walk out less than 10 minutes later.

64. Ever make a TV or monitor purchase based on what would be best for gaming? No, but I'm going to be doing that soon, hopefully.

65. Ever have a Game Genie, Game Shark or Action Replay? Did it ever mess up your game’s save file? GameShark for N64, PS2, Gameboy, and Action Replay for Gamecube, DS, 3DS. And no not really, I would cheat responsibly... but there was this one time at school my friend and I borrowed another friend's Gameboy game, loaded it up with my Gameshark, tried playing, it crashed, loaded it back up, save file corrupted... we just stared at each other jaws dropped, "Here's your game back, dude. Make sure you don't play it til you get back home!"

66. Did you ever have have an old Nokia with Snake on it? No, but I remember seeing them on billboards in the game DRIV3R on PS2.

67. Do you have a happy gaming-related childhood memory you want to share? Every game I play is filled with happy memories (mostly.)

68. Ever save up a ton of tickets in an arcade to get something cool? These tiger plushes. My brother got white and I got orange. They were the coolest. Got a butt load of tickets from some jackpot spinning light game thing as I was good at the timing with repeated jackpot hits.

69. In your opinion, best game ever made? I've played quite a few masterpiece games, but to pick one, I'd say Fallout: New Vegas

70. Very first game you ever beat? Super Mario 64. I was a mere child on a Sunday morning and ate celebratory pancakes made by my Dad.

Wow, that was long... I get the feeling this was supposed to be a "send me ask with numbers" thing, but answering all at once is more fun.

[monst]

Okay so we had some of the boys, how about a couple of girls for the sleeping nude ask? Like jirou, uraraka and toga?

What are Pyjamas?

All characters 18+

Jirou Kyouka, Uraraka Ochako, Toga Himiko x reader. 

 Jirou’s Hc, TW:Non/con TW: Abuse TW: Unhealthy relationship Please do not read if you are triggered by these things. Quick Sum: Your Kaminari’s fuck buddy.

 Warnings for the other girls: Voyeurism, dub/con touching, questionable actions. Blood, Sexy times themes. All Under the cut since I did Jirou’s first, That shit hurted T.T

 Jirou Kyouka

She looked down at the text message and sighed. It was sent three hours ago, and she knew that it was ‘Safe’ to head back home to your shared apartment. She knew she could have gone back an hour ago, but she didn’t want to risk seeing him there. Who was he? It was Kaminari Denki local fuckboy and you just so happened to be one of his hits.

Jirou had never approved of the friends with benefits relationship the both of you had but she had no right to tell you how to live your life. Besides she was tired of you waving her concerns off. ‘He could get you pregnant.’ ‘I’m on pills’ ‘He could give you an STI’ ‘He fucks clean women and always gets tested.’ ‘He’ll break your heart’ ‘Ha! That’s if I catch feelings!’

You had caught feelings… Jirou knew because you’d cry every time he left, wishing that one day he’d give up all his other hoes for you. Jirou was always there when you would sob. She tired telling you to break it off, but you were in too deep. You kept saying you would but as soon as he’d text you, you’d forget and run into his arms just so he could fuck you and leave.

When she unlocked the door, she prayed he wasn’t still there. She hated seeing you draped all over him. Hated seeing his hands on you as if you were nothing more than a disposable fleshlight. She hated the hero chargebolt, she hated Denki Kaminari because he had something, she wanted…. Your love.

She sighed in relief as she noticed that the apartment was silent. Your shoes were the only pair at the door, so she knew he had left. And she knew that you would be crying. But oddly enough as she took off her shoes, she didn’t hear sniffling. She removed her outer wear and hung up her keys. “(Name)?” She called out walking further into the apartment and sighing in relief when she caught sight of you.

This wasn’t the first time she had seen you nude. But it was the first time that seeing your bare beautiful body bothered her. She knew that you and Kaminari sometimes got a little rough but this... This was overkill. You had a strange discoloration on your throat. No not strange they were in the shape of handprints. Jirou grimaced at the sight of the small burns left on your arm. Kaminari had used his quirk on you. Jirou was livid he had harmed you and left!

Jirou bit her lip to muffle her cries as she grabbed the necessary items to care for your bruised body. When she returned, she ran the damp rag underneath your cheeks erasing the tear lines. She parted your legs to clean off the mess of cum Kaminari didn’t bother to clean. She was confused. Why would he do this to you? Usually he was attentive when it came to aftercare.

She treated your body as if it were the most delicate thing on earth wiping you down and rubbing a cool ointment on your bruises. “I would never treat you like this.” She sighed trailing her fingers across the bitemark on your breast. “You don’t like it when it scars.” She frowned. She knew you were a masochist, but you always asked Kaminari not to leave scars. “These are going to scar.” She frowned smearing the lotion on a large burn on your thigh.

She pressed her lips to your forehead squeezing her eyes shut to hold back her tears. It was then that she jumped, her phone had pinged with multiple messages. She picked up the device and saw that you had messaged more times. They hadn’t come through, but they were spaced thirty minutes after she texted you that Kaminari was over.

‘I’m going to take your advice Jirou, I deserve someone who will love me. I’m going to tell him today.’ She read the next one which was thirty minutes after that one. ‘He didn’t take it too well… Kyouka can you come home……Please.’ Kyouka couldn’t see her screen anymore as she wiped at her eyes furiously. She had left you alone after that, you were here alone, and she wasn’t-

“Kyouka?” You hummed sleepily. “(N-Name)” She stuttered “I-I’m so sorry.” She cried as you wrapped your arms around her. She held you tightly muttering apologies as if it were her fault. “It’s not y-your fault Kyo.” You sniffled. “A-actually I should be thanking you. I-I didn’t know he…. I was so damn blind..I should have c-called you b-but-” “Shhh i-I’t going to be okay, I’m here now.”

Uraraka Ochako

Uraraka was excited that everyone was going to be able to make the fifth-year anniversary trip. She still couldn’t believe that you all had graduated five years ago and were now pro heroes! She was dying to see everyone as some of you didn’t work in the same district and meeting up had become difficult due to your professions. She was squealing as she packed her camping equipment ready to meet up with all of you at the campsite.

She felt her cheeks grow hot when she arrived… You were already there. Out of everyone she saw you the least, but she liked you the most. Just thinking about how she missed her chance to ask you out third year made her pout in disappointment. And when she saw you mouthing off to Bakugou she smiled silly. “What makes you think that you have the right to pick that spot huh?” “I got here first” “So? I put my feet on it first.” “P-Please don’t argue.” “Shut up Deku.” “Alright then let’s fight for it.”

Uraraka sighed as you got into a ‘fight’ with Bakugou. But everyone ended up having fun as the two of you made a challenge of it and soon everyone joined. Everyone competed at who caught the most fish. Who climbed the tree the fastest. And who stuffed more marshmallows in their mouths? “Hey! Those are for the night!” It really felt like old times. But at the end of the day they allowed the girls to claim the spot you spoke of. “We should have pitched our tents earlier.” “We would have but somebody was being an asshole.” “Shut the fuck up.

Uraraka was elated that she got to share a tent with you. Especially since it was only the two of you. “It’s been way too long Ocha” You hummed, getting ready to hit the sack. The lights were out inside the tent but the two of you spoke for hours inside your respective sleeping bags. Uraraka heard the occasional ruffling but decided not to question it. “I’m still really grateful to you for saving me four months when you were in my district………(Name)?....Goodnight.” You only hummed in your slumber. It took her a while to even begin to grow tired, but sleep was washed away when she heard you speak in your sleep “It’s hot.” You mumbled.

She remembered this about you sometimes when you were really tired, you’d talk in your sleep. Back when the two of you were students your friends took advantage of it during sleepovers by asking you silly questions. Uraraka knew it was desperate of her but for old times sakes she couldn’t resist. She unzipped her sleeping bag and crawled out to kneel next to your body.

“(N-Name).” She whispered. You hummed in response. “I-I love you.” “M’too ‘chako I love yuh too.” Uraraka stifled a snort. You were really cute like this. She only wished she could see your sleepy face but turning something on would probably wake someone else. So she settled for blindly stroking your cheek. “But… I love you in a not friend way.” She huffed. “it’s okai Ocha I won’t tell.” She smiled “But you have to promise you won’t tell.”

Ochako perked up and despite knowing that this was invading your privacy she asked. “I promise but what wont I tell?” She asked eagerly. “It’s hoot” You moaned. Uraraka agreed but she still wanted to know what you were ‘hiding’ so she asked again. “Don’t tell Ochako but I’m naked. It was too hot.” You confessed. Uraraka coughed and hacked as she choked on her spit. “Whoever is dying shut the fuck up.”

……You.. You were naked underneath the sleeping bag. Why did that make her feel so hot? She had seen you naked before, granted that it was a long time ago but still the thought shouldn’t have excited her like it did now. ‘No, absolutely not’ she shook her head trying to stop herself from taking a peek. She wondered what you looked like. How much did your body change, as a matter of fact she couldn’t recall how you looked nude. ‘It was such a long time ago.’ She thought biting her lip in contemplation.

‘No I can’t!’ She blushed, but that stop her from asking you something else. “Are you really naked?” “Nakey.” You giggled turning over as you snoozed peacefully. “C-can I see.” “Sure thing.” You answered. ‘This is wrong’ She thought as her hands ghosted over the zipper of your sleeping bag. ‘What if she wakes up?!’ but she was already unzipping. It was then that it dawned on her…. It was dark how was she supposed to see?

She settled for feeling. After all, if she turned on her flash people would be able to see the shadow of what she was doing…. Her fingers touched your skin and she gasped. You really were naked! You were so warm. “Soft.” She sighed running her hand across the smooth skin of your belly. Her hands ran up and down your skin causing you to let out soft mewls. With her lip caught between her teeth she moved her hands up to your breasts.

“Hhhhnn” Uraraka blushed at the sound you made when she squeezed your breasts softly. Her thumbs flicked over your nipples and she felt her panties grow damp at the cute sounds you let out. “Ochako~” You hummed. She had to pull her hands back to cover her mouth. She almost shrieked. You said her name! You said her name so erotically. She wondered if you were dreaming about her in that way. Well whatever the case was she knew for certain that she’d be getting off to the memory of your voice.

“D-do you want me to keep going?” She asked your sleeping form. You mumbled out a yes. “Can I go lower” She breathed. Once she got the okay her hands slide down your body to your dripping folds. She felt her cunt throb when her fingers touched your gooey slick. She couldn’t help but think about how it was her that got you that wet. “Mmmm” Damn she really wished she could turn on her flash. She wondered what type of expressions you were making as she stroked your clit. She dipped two of her fingers inside of you and had to quickly cover your mouth. She pulled her fingers out deciding that it wasn’t a good idea as your moans would wake up some people… Curiously she brought her fingers to her mouth… She needed another taste! Her face was buried in between your thighs as she licked a stripe up your cunt. She was careful to keep her touch light.

Her other hand when underneath the hem of her sleep shorts and panties. Her fingers were buried deep inside her cunt as she ‘ate’ you out. Soon the pressure became to much for her and she pulled back from your body. She bit her lip harshly, one hand squeezing her breast while the other finished her off…. Feeling high off of her release she poked her head out of the tent to make sure everyone was still sleeping. When she zipped it back up she grabbed her phone and turned on her flash as she angled her phone to your body and took a picture.

When you woke up the next morning you didn’t notice anything strange. Uraraka was sleeping peacefully in her sleeping bag… Uraraka…. As a matter of fact, you took that statement back, there was something strange. You were absolutely dripping, and you recalled having certain dreams about the brunette…. For the remainder of the day it was hard to look her in the eyes… Uraraka didn’t mind after all, you all were camping out for the whole week.

 Toga Himiko

Toga grinned when she walked back into your shared room. You were still asleep. It was to be expected as she didn’t take it easy on you the previous night. But it was already mid-day and she figured she should wake you so that you could at least eat something. When she got closer, she could make out all the cuts and scars you had.

She traced over them fondly. You trusted her, and that made her indescribably happy. You allowed her to mark up your pretty skin with knives. You let her hold your life in her hands and although it gave her a power high it made her feel so protective over you, it also made her feel needed. She knew you didn’t exactly need her, but she was glad you stayed.

Toga frowned when she noticed a dark reddish-brown stain on your skin. It was then that she remembered that the two of you forwent after-care. She couldn’t help but think that it was careless of her to forget. Sure, the both of you had been tired and cuddled but she should have pushed past that.

“You should have told me.” She pouted dabbing of the dried blood with a warm washcloth. When she cleaned you off, she disinfected the knife wounds and placed band aid’s on them.  She giggled at the cute design they had and thought that you’d appreciate then too.

“You look so pretty marked up by me (Name)-chan.” She cooed tracing over one of the various fresh bitemarks. Her fingers traced patterns on your cheek, and she nuzzled her nose against yours lovingly. She placed a playful kiss to your nose nipping the tip teasingly.  “Wakey wakey.” She hummed softly.

She smiled mischievously when you didn’t wake. Her fingers ghosted up your sides making you squirm and when she reached your breasts, she pinched your nipples. “Himiko.” You whined sleepily. “Don’t Himiko me (Name)-chan.” She pouted twisting the hardened buds with her thumbs and fore fingers. “Look how late it is. What if someone else came in here to wake you up? They would have came in and seen you all naked.” She frowned.

“Nu-Uh.” You mumbled drifting back off to sleep. “Ah~ H-Himiko!” You gasped when she bit down on your inner thigh. You didn’t even remember her being by your legs. “Wake up or else.” She threatened. You shivered at her threat a slow grin coming to your lips as you snored in defiance. You thought she was going to go down on you but instead she dropped your leg and walked over to the desk beside the bed.

“Fine then. I guess I’ll just have to your breakfast too.” She shrugged. “Or is it lunch” She teased. Your nude form was out of the bed in seconds. “Himiko don’t you dare.”

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 18

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 18 - Memories

Lin Yan was afraid that the professor was going to run away. When the event was over, he didn't even take the time to change his clothes. He called over to little Daoist priest to tell him he could leave first, then rushed to the backstage lounge. The crowd trying to leave completely blocked the exit. Lin Yan wasn't able to get out for a while. Behind him was a swarm of school reporters, sweating profusely as they followed.

"Excuse me! Coming through!" He wasn't sure whose foot he stepped on in his rush, but the girl in front of him turned around and gave him a sharp look.

"Lin Yan!" a clear voice rang out. Lin Yan looked up and saw Weiwei standing at the door with a red staff badge hanging around her neck.

Lin Yan didn't care anymore about feeling embarrassed while he hurried through the crowd without any organized manner. He shouted at Weiwei: "Can you do me a favour? This is urgent!"

"It's my birthday next week, come over for dinner!" Weiwei shouted on her tiptoes.

"Okay, whatever, help stop the crowd behind me!"

Lin Yan ran as fast as he could straight down the corridor, stumbling from time to time over the hem of his clothes. When he burst into the backstage VIP room completely dishevelled, he realized that he had been worried for nothing. The professor hadn't planned on sneaking away at all. He was seated on the sofa and had waited for him, sipping his tea.

"You came? Sit down."

Lin Yan clutched his chest and nodded, breathing too heavily to speak.

The lounge was decorated in a very stylish way, with arc-shaped floor-to-ceiling French windows, beige wallpaper, and light brown soft leather sofas that looked like they were worth a lot of money. The school had always been willing to spend money on entertaining guests. The professor poured a glass of water for Lin Yan and pointed to the single-seater sofa opposite of him.

"You're Lin Yan, who came to us for an internship before, right? You performed well today. You've got guts and have a good mind." The professor pondered for a moment: "I thought you'd come find me sooner or later. I didn't expect that you would get back here so soon. "

"Do you know me?" A series of questions popped up in his mind. Lin Yan suppressed the urge to outright address his issue. He apologized for the outburst just then, and then said seriously: "I did here for that internship. This is very important to me, please tell me everything you know."

The professor nodded slightly: "I can probably guess what happened. So, I'll speak slowly. Listen carefully. If there's any useful information, I'll tell you." He sighed and looked out the window. He spoke softly: "The fact that you are still standing here in good shape is already much better than the person who came before you."

Lin Yan looked back at Xiao Yu, who was holding his hand tightly, standing ignorantly.

The floor-to-ceiling windows were facing the path outside the auditorium. The students must use this path to get to the dormitories. In the night, boys and girls walked down it together in large groups. I don’t know who yelled: "The river flows eastward, the stars in the sky look to the Big Dipper!*" The professor smiled, turned his face to Lin Yan, and recalled: "I was about the same age as you when I first entered the tomb. It was a good time to be young."

*(Song lyrics from "Hao Han Ge" by Liu Huan)

"Young people don't know what's important. . ."

The professor spoke very coherently, as if he had been wanted to say all this for many years. Lin Yan even felt that he was using this as an opportunity to reminisce about his nostalgic youth. But when the professor painted the scene back to Lin Yan, it sent a chill down Lin Yan's spine.

Twenty-five years ago, a group of coal miners in Jinxiang County accidentally collapsed a mineshaft while they were hacking away. They removed some jade plates and funerary wooden figurines from inside the hole, which turned out to be the entrance tunnel of an underground tomb. Once the county head official learned about this tomb, he blocked off the mausoleum and reported the news to the central government. At that time, China was still a novice in both archaeological technology and cultural relic preservation, and it was still difficult to excavate many imperial tombs. Therefore, this cultural Ming Dynasty tomb was handed over to the university, and a team of several master's students hired some local volunteers and rushed to Jinxiang.

This group of people included the professor and Lin Yan’s current supervisor. When preparing the materials for the tomb, the professor and Lin Yan both found some strange information. He strangely discovered that whether it were the county chronicles, the local chronicles, or genealogical records, there was no record of the tomb's owner. One of the workers on the team claimed to be a master of fengshui. After seeing the mausoleum, he said that it would be impossible to excavate. The earth's meridians formed a breeding ground for negative energy. The evil spirits attracted to the space were too dense to bury people. The owner of the tomb wouldn't be able to find peace after death. Not to mention the misfortune it would bring future generations. However, most of the students were young and energetic. They were eager to try after seeing the exquisitely carved jade artifacts. Without much consideration, they went directly to the tomb with tools and equipment.

"Strange events started after that." The professor adjusted his glasses and grimaced: "We should have listened to the warnings, but we didn't believe in evil at the time."

First, the four chickens brought to ward off evil spirits died overnight. When the underground tomb gate was opened, the scaffold collapsed, and an 18-year-old fell and broke his right hand. Everyone thought it was an accident, but from the time they entered the tomb, all those involved in the excavation had nightmares whenever they closed their eyes. Every night they dreamed that they were dying to the point that no one dared try to sleep anymore. Fatigue and constant fear made everyone’s fighting spirit die off after only a week.

"What happened after that?" Lin Yan looked back at Xiao Yu in surprise. He thought he had been tormented thoroughly by him, but he hadn't even seen half of this ghost's ferociousness yet.

"After entering the main chamber, we found many valuable cultural relics beside the coffin, but they were poorly preserved. We could only brush off the embroideries. Watching the treasures that we brought out so easily blacken and carbonize the moment the sunlight hit them was the fatal blow to our spirits. I cried miserably, but everyone was equally depressed and even fearful. No one had the energy to comfort me."

The professor's hand shifted on the windowpane, leaving behind a damp handprint. "There seemed to be some kind of energy in that tomb that could make people fall into despair. We worked hard and sang to make ourselves feel more brave, but it was still useless. A rural volunteer girl went crazy on the ninth morning and smashed her husband's head in with a machete while everyone could only stand in shock."

"Blood sprayed all over the bricks on the top of the tomb, and it was dripping everywhere. The woman put her husband's head in front of the blank memorial plaque, kowtowed three times, and sat on the ground convulsing, laughing eerily, while laughing and shouting a name." The professor looked at Lin Yan and asked, "Do you know what name it was?"

Lin Yan took a dazed step back. He wanted to break away from the hand holding his, but Xiao Yu held it tighter, not giving him a chance to escape.

"It was Xiao Yu. Who exactly is Xiao Yu? I searched through both the official and unofficial records, but I couldn't find any record that mentioned this name." The professor's expression became painful: "We gave the woman a consolation fee to settle the matter. After she took the money, she laughed for a while before she raised her machete and slashed it down across her neck. The blood was sprayed onto the memorial plaque. When she fell, only a thin piece of skin kept her head attached to her body. At that time, people didn't know much about archaeology. At first glance, some of the students were okay, but the hired volunteers were all scared away, saying that we dug up the grave of the dead, and this was retribution for it."

"The last person who left was the fengshui guy. He told me that the tomb had no fengshui. The owner of the tomb had died violently. Nothing could approach the tomb through the evil energy breeding ground. This resentment built up over a long time. The woman's body had been filled with too much Yin energy and she was the first to fall prey to the ghost."

"The man left. The students didn't want to go, but they were still having nightmares every time they. They tried to stick it out for a week before packing their bags and returning to school. No one else died. The first time the lead took over, he wouldn't even touch the coffin. It was a disappointment for everyone."

Lin Yan imagined the beheading. His face grew pale, and his stomach felt sick.

"Are you alright? You don't look well." The professor seemed to catch on to the younger's expression, and pointed to Lin Yan's cup: "Drink some water. Take a break then you can listen some more."

Lin Yan shook his head and asked, "Was it really like the fengshui master said?"

The professor hesitated for a while, and his fingers scribbled across a section of thin vapor he exhaled onto the glass. Two words appeared on the glass: "Xiao Yu." As if he didn't want to see it, the professor wiped it away and shook his head: "I have seen a lot of weird things throughout my career. The demon and ghost theory is not unfounded, but I think that the tomb might be some kind of spiritual formation. In ancient times, emperors and generals did everything they could to prevent their bodies from being destroyed. Many strange arts and techniques also emerged. It is possible that the woman was already delirious and so was the first to lose her mind in the consuming and the gloomy atmosphere in the tomb."

Lin Yan imagined the shadowy chamber with two headless bodies lying on the ground. He could barely squeeze out a wry smile: "What does this whole thing have to do with me?"

"I'm getting to that part." The professor sadly lowered his head: "Young people have never been willing to admit defeat. Since then, I've been very interested in the history of the Ming Dynasty Chenghua period. At first, I wanted to find out the identity of the tomb owner but I really fell in love with the history, and, 20 years later, I became an expert in the field. But long-term research in any field will encounter roadblocks. I was troubled by problem for nearly two months, and finally decided to go to the Ming Tomb again."

Lin Yan asked puzzledly: "Are you not afraid something will happen again?"

The professor shrugged: "No way, the large amount of untouched cultural relics inside was too tempting. The team left before anyone had even touched the coffin the last time I was there. I've never gotten over it."

"Be considerate of the obsessions of an old man who has been involved in academia for most of his life." The professor said: "When the newspaper published the news about the excavation of the Ming Tomb again, a message came from my secretary saying that someone was willing to help me. He understood fengshui. If something went wrong, I could turn to him."

"I'm not the same young man who spent a whole year studying about the tomb. I ran all over the country all day and night. I was too busy to take care of it, so I asked the secretary to keep in touch with him."

"Later on, something did happened. It was exactly the same as before. After entering the tomb door, everyone was inexplicably depressed and paranoid, and soon began to have nightmares. I was so afraid that the tragedy would happen again, so I had to ask the person who knew fengshui for help. He told me that I need to find a person who shares the same horoscope as the evil creature in order to make it stop. Then he gave me a birth date and said that he could find someone with the same birth date horoscope."

Lin Yan had already guessed the answer. He pointed at himself and hesitated to confirm: "Me?"

The professor nodded: "That birth year made me think of a student. I asked your supervisor. He said that he had a friend’s son who was looking for an internship, and his own student, Lin Yan. It was just an extreme coincident that your birthday fell onto the right date."

"You know what happened after that." The professor looked at the path outside the window. The students were almost all gone now. The moonlight didn't reach the path, instead only reflecting the black shadows of the trees that were swaying back and forth in the night breeze. "If you want to ask me who the owner of the tomb is, I can only tell you that I don't know. It's shameful; after more than 20 years, I have revisited this topic year after year, but I still haven't made any progress."

"If you have anything else to ask, please go ahead. As soon as you say the name 'Xiao Yu', I knew it was you. You've got a lot of guts to throw my things like that." The professor laughed, "I was just like that when I was young. I had trouble with authority back then. It took a lot to keep up with me."

Lin Yan hurriedly lowered his head and apologized. He kept thinking that it was this File Folder dragged him into this mess, but it didn't seem like he did it intentionally. . . How much did he know about what happened after? Thinking of this, Lin Yan raised his head and asked, "Don't you want to hear how I know Xiao Yu's name?"

The professor waved his hand and relaxed his expression: "People my age don't want to listen to these ghost and monster stories. It's bad luck. I know you're fine when I see you standing here. I didn't discuss it with you. I blame myself for not discussing this with you sooner. I'll try my best to explain anything you need, but the rest. . ." The professor said, spreading his hands, expressing that there was nothing he could do.

During their talk, the professor's personal secretary came in and urged him to leave, saying that the car was ready and the school officials were all waiting downstairs. The professor nodded to the secretary, turned around and asked Lin Yan, "Is there anything else you want to know?"

Lin Yan felt stuck. The most renowned Ming historians in China had no answers. Did he really have no choice but to wait out the three months, waiting for this ghost to remember his life experience and tell him his wish. But what he couldn't remember? Would Lin Yan be forced to accompany him for eternity as a ghost?

As he pondered, a thought popped up, like a small copper hammer hitting the glass with a crisp sound. Lin Yan stopped the professor who was packing up and asked: "You. . . you mentioned that the fengshui guy had mentioned a horoscope date. I happened to be looking for an internship at that time, so it all worked out, right?" Lin Yan's voice was trembling with excitement: "This is too much of a coincidence. It's almost like he was waiting for me. . . Where is he now? How did he know something would happen in the Ming Tomb?"

The professor suddenly stopped, frowning and thought it over: "You're right to be suspicious. At that time, I was busy planning the excavation and didn't care much about it. . ." The secretary who was waiting at the door shouted: " Xiao Liu, do you remember that fortune teller? Give me his contact information."

The young girl flipped through the folder in her arms, and replied: "That person never contacted me directly. He had been passing messages through a young guy who was new to the team. I'll look into it for you. I'll get back to you about in in the next few days."

The professor's face sank, and just like Lin Yan, he had no answer. He whispered to him: "It'll should be easy to track him down." He patted Lin Yan on the shoulder: "I'll help you out with this, don't worry. "He took out a pen and left Lin Yan's his phone number, and the corner of his mouth ticked up: "I still owe you your prize. I'll give it to you the next time we meet."

When he left, the crowd was gone. The corridor was empty. The old custodian didn’t even turn on the ceiling light to save electricity. Only the wall lamp glowed a dull yellow. Lin Yan’s face drained of all colour. He suddenly felt like he was in a horror movie. He was the lead actor stumbling along the wall in a terrifying corridor.

The professor's story made him feel incredibly afraid. Behind him was a ghost, a murderer who put people to death in a cruel and bloody way. He didn't even dare to look behind him. He was afraid that when he turned around, a ghost covered in bloodstains would be there, grinning sinisterly at him through a veil of long hair, saying: It's your turn.

Lin Yan's breathing became heavier and heavier. When he couldn't resist the urge to run away, he was suddenly pushed harshly against the wall. His body was wrenched around. Lin Yan raised his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

[vicecityhq]

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: cigarette butts, the sound of a gameboy booting up, and bloody knuckles . With a slight resemblance to HWANG HYUNJIN of/the STRAY KIDS.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Jin, Malachi 'Kai' ALIAS: Haise Realm of birth(if earth, nationality): Earth Age: 19 Date of Birth: October 31st, 2001 Gender: Cismale Preferred Pronouns: he/him Species: Half-Ghoul/Half-human Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Occupation: Game Developer/Night Blood lacky/Weapon’s Tech

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Pale Eye color: One dark grey, the other black with a red iris Scars: plenty of them on his knuckles, one across his nose, and on his upper cheek Piercings: Up both ears, and one in his belly-button Tattoos: both sleeves of sparse stick and pokes and little tattoos, and notably large centipede up his side and around his back in red ink. Hair color: White Abnormalities: His ghoul eye Horns/ wings/ etc: Transformed form: Before he dyed his hair and when he was younger, it would turn white and his normal eye would become the same as the ghoul one. Now that he's older he transforms almost completely with centipede esk legs out his back, and a beak like structure that resembles a plague doctor mask and two extra eyes form.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF:  N/A SINS:  greed  /  gluttony  /  sloth  / lust  /  pride  /  envy  /  wrath VIRTUES: chastity  /  charity  /  diligence  /  humility /  kindness /  patience /  justice KNOWN LANGUAGES: English and Below Average Korean SECRETS: He is responsible for the string of 'animal attacks' that have been happening in the camping/overnight area of the park SAVVIES:  Technology and Model Architecture, Electric Guitar, Drums, Bass, Song Writing Powers & Abilities: Ghoul Physiology Traits: prideful & protective

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: 10/31/2001

Date of Death: [ if applying for an undead character ]

Crime Record: Petty theft, Assault, Assault and Battery, Robbery, Avoiding Police, Assault of a Police Officer, Fleeing the scene of a crime, Drug Possession, Tampering with Evidence, Minor in Possession, Minor in Consumption and solicitation, all expunged at 18 and done in the US.

Background/Biography:

Malachi or 'Kai' Jin was a household name for the LAPD. There wasn't a week where the boy wasn't encountering the officers that hunkered down in the East area of the city. From shoplifting to being in possession the file the young half-ghoul began at such a young age only got bigger as the years went on. He'd even spent a spell in juvenile detention for severely beating another young boy for bullying and taunting a close friend of his (see:crush). Being raised by a single mother with two younger siblings, a mother who'd rather drink or do drugs to escape her own problems didn't help in the rehabilitation of the troubled teen. Fighting, stealing and making quick cash to feed the less than poor quartet was all he'd known.

The cards seemed to be turning in the delinquent's favor. At the young age of nine he was transferred to a school for the rich and incredibly intelligent, and the Jin family hadn't been rich at all, but Kai's smarts were enough to send him to the school two cities away. He leapt his way to the top of the class, a studious student that teachers tended to coddle because of his class status. Students followed suit and his entire school career in the prestigious system was a revolving door of detention and suspensions.

But as Kai got older, there was more of an issue at hand, the raising of the siblings his mother brought into the world and the money that didn't come with them. As the teen entered high school his life turned into school days and nights on the streets doing whatever he could to bring home a meal. A lot of the young ghoul's anger grew, losing a lot of his childhood to children  he didn't have and for awhile he didn't want. An anger and grudge he had with his mother, even still holding her up in everyway possible. Many nights holding her hair back or making her vomit on his own, holding her while she cried or icing bruises, as if his mother was one of his own children and not the mother to them all.

The ghoul looked for a distraction, he and the other delinquents forming some sort of garage band, and who knew they’d actually be good? But his distractions didn’t stop with the song writing and the vibration of a drumset beneath his fingertips, it fell into the arms of a Chosen Child not so up to his speed, not that he minded. He’d let his friends be the ones to shield him from the life he was subjected to at home, a family of sorts trying to raise the child who not only had to raise himself, but others.

He'd never looked for his father, assuming he'd split before his mother could ever look up after his birth, and even when the well spoken, gangly man who'd seemed to linger was said to father his little sister and brother didn't cross his mind. And even when he found out that the well spoken man was his own father, he crossed his existence from his mind. Anger bubbling over at the thought of Yacht parties and Jaguars while he and his family struggled to eat daily. He chose to keep him at arms length, that he didn't need him, his money or his other family, that is until his mother's demise. He'd come home to a sobbing eight-year-old, and stoic two-year-old watching their mother's lifeless body as he trotted around a private high school.

Kai tried his best to keep them afloat on his own, using his body, or selling drugs if he needed, but the eviction notice still came after long, and Kai found himself making a very embarrassing call to the older brother he never cared to acknowledge and making his way to the Korean hub of Agdoeg to start over, a new life...maybe. But even as things seemed to shape up, the teen’s discourse with his natural hunger came blindsiding after his break up. He’d found himself being consumed by the hunger of others out of inability to control his emotions as an adolescence. Where typing code and playing video games inside a corporate building only led to him moonlighting as a killer, an animalistic instinct taking over anytime he was rattled mentally. He’s struggling to control it now, choosing to starve most days, but starving....is proving more and more difficult.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

A smirk crawled across Kai's lips, he crossed his arms, tattoos on display. Chuckles fell from the expression as he cocked a brow. Were they that dumb? Thinking he'd speak on it just that easy, "Nothing." He said again, finding it comical how the officer's faces fell. They all sighed, he'd been in the interview room for hours now but he hadn't broke.

He'd been behind the scenes most of it, toggling through the camera's he hacked into to gain access , he watched the gangs every move, from the moment they entered the bank to the moment they crawled back through the ceiling. He'd been the one to turn the alarms off, disable the code needed to get into the vault and sat back and sipped a redbull as they cleaned out the safety deposit boxes.

"I was at home, with my....I wont say boyfriend, the whole night," the half ghoul gave them another smile, "I'll spare you the details, but we had nothing to do with anything, I haven't seen nothing, heard nothing or touched nothing so if you'd unlock these cuffs I'll make my way home, I do have work in the morning, dickheads."

[vermin-disciple]

First Line Challenge

Thank you to @philosopherking1887 for tagging me!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have fewer than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

(Like @philosopherking1887 I have been somewhat generous in my interpretation of ‘first line’ for some of these.)

1. “I was at the Center for Unconnected Children in the Lowod district today,” said Julian. He took a bite of nutritionally fortified kava grain porridge and scowled at it, as if he’d been expecting this bowl to miraculously have more flavor in it than the one he’d had yesterday, or the day before. “They have a little boy there who’s half-Romulan. Have you ever come across that combination before?”

2. “How do I know you’re not just after Starfleet medical secrets?” asked Julian playfully.

3. Ziyal always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, and so far this policy had served her well. But perhaps she should have listened to Nerys about the dangers of taking advice from Quark.

4. “I prefer the serialist poets from the First Republic, like Iloja of Prim. He's easily my favorite Cardassian writer.”

This was a rather cheap trick of Curzon’s for feigning omniscience.

5. Enabran Tain believed in maintaining an optimistic outlook on life. 

6. Julian often made a pretense of forgetting things.

7. “It’s a vile libation. I don’t see how it would be improved by the addition of ice cream.”

8. “Garak, I’m a doctor, not a herpetologist.”

9. “Is oral sex something Cardassians do?”

10. Jim Kirk knew that he was not going to die.

11. "I'm dying, Spock."

"Doctor, in the past five years you have made that claim precisely 206 times. I suspect that your limited diagnostic capabilities have been further degraded by increasing age."

12. Garak wasn’t asleep when the door chimed, but he was in bed, and not much inclined to move. He’d hacked the security feed outside his quarters and could easily check who was calling on him at this hour, but it hardly seemed worth the effort. Most of the people who cared enough to try and assassinate him were dead, and wouldn’t knock first. There was no one on the station he particularly wanted to see.

13. “Garak.” Odo crossed his arms and scowled. “Why is there a giant rabbit in the cargo bay?”

14. Much of Cardassia Prime was inhospitable to most plant-life, even after all the soil rehabilitation programs started in the wake of the Dominion War.

15. When Enabran Tain had made his fateful offer, dangling the prospect of Cardassia before him like rokassa fruit in the desert oases of the Northern Continent, he hadn’t given his life on Deep Space 9 even a passing thought.

16. “I,” announced Julian Bashir as he strolled into Quark’s and up to Chief O’Brien’s seat, “have a new holosuite program.”

17. Flying a starship wasn't nearly as much fun as Crowley had anticipated. In fact, it was mostly maths. Some days he really missed the internal combustion engine.

18. "So," said Crowley.

"Quite," said Aziraphale.

19. "How could you?" said Crowley, jabbing a finger in Aziraphale's general direction. "I thought we were fr-"

"Foresworn enemies?" supplied Aziraphale. "And what is it that I'm supposed to have done?"

20. My dear Watson,

How did one begin such a letter?

Thank you for writing such a moving account of my death. For once I cannot fault you for your habitual sensationalism, as it was entirely my intention that you should write the tale just as you have. I am sorry if I have caused you any great inconvenience…

Bonus (I skipped it because it’s not exactly a ‘story’):

I’m in Quark’s Bar on Deep Space 9 //The dabo wheel’s starting to spin // There is old Morn sittin’ next to me // Makin’ love to his Tellarite gin

Over half of these start with dialogue. Actually, I’m rather surprised it isn’t more, because dialogue is often the first thing I write when I’m starting a new fic. My favorites are probably 5, 13, 17, and 20. 

I’ll just tag anyone who wants to do this but hasn’t been tagged yet!

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

My Little Secret (Part 3)

Summary: When a tragic accident happens, Dean takes a drastic measure in order to save the person he cares about most…

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 2,900ish

Warnings: language, time in hell/injury, death

______

“Good morning sunshine!” you heard. You slowly opened your eyes, Alistair kneeling down beside your cell. “How’d the first week go kid?”

“Screw you,” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Want to take a guess how long you been here?”

“Um, a week, asshole,” you said.

“Here yes. In the real world, it’s only been a few minutes,” he said. You opened your eyes, Alistair smirking at you. “Oh, yes. Time’s a bit different down here. Ready to get off the rack yet?”

“Screw you asshole,” you said.

“Always tomorrow to change your mind.”

“How was it today?” asked Alistair, stopping by your cell not long after you’d been dumped in there for the day.

You didn’t move, not that you wanted to. He opened the door and knelt down beside you, cocking his head.

“Want to get off the rack?” he asked, same as he did every day. You stared at his shoe, Alistair poking your shoulder. “You haven’t felt like talking in a long time. You get off the rack, you can get cleaned up, relax in a bed, become my star student. There are perks to that.”

“Promise,” you said quietly.

“Sure I promise,” he laughed.

“No,” you said, closing your eyes. 

“Fine. Back on the rack you go.”

“Y/N,” said Alistair as he visited you maybe a month later. It could have been a year. You weren’t paying attention anymore. You knew a month up there was a decade down there but your ability to keep track of time was more skewed than not lately. “What do you say? Off the rack today?”

“Promise,” you mumbled.

“What do you want to do?” you heard Abbadon say. “Almost everyone breaks by now.”

“Put her on a rack for a few years. See how she’s feeling after that.”

“I see you eyeing my knife more often,” said Alistair one day, your gaze flickering over slowly from it to him. 

“What’s it like?” you asked.

“Tearing into flesh? It’s an art form, not a science,” he said.

“I meant what’s it like being the big bad demon and you can’t break me. You must be the laughing stock of Hell,” you laughed, hearing a few other demons turn away from their own racks. “Aren’t you guys embarrassed of this old hack?”

“I will-“

“You’ll what? You’ve already done everything. Face it. You’re washed up,” you said.

“You’re having your second wind. Don’t worry. No one ever has a third.”

“Rack?” asked Alistair what felt like an eon later. “It has been decades kiddo. It’s okay to say uncle.”

“I wonder how long your little ass lasted before you gave up to Lucifer. A week?” you smirked.

“Dean doesn’t care about you. If you want to continue this charade that’s your choice. He is never coming for you.”

“Rack?” asked Alistair once again at the end of the day. You sat up in your cell, staring at him. “Hm?”

“What do I have to do?” you whispered, barely able to hold yourself up.

“Work the rack. Under my tutelage,” he said. “What do you say?”

You gave a single nod, Alistair smirking.

“Come now. One quick lesson to start and then you can rest,” he said. For the first time, there was no one dragging you through the halls, no hand on you as you followed him through a maze and eventually into the open vastness that was the rack room. He hummed and waved for you to follow him to an occupied one, a trembling man on it. “This is a purely innocent man. He made a deal. George, this is Y/N. She also made a deal but now she has the opportunity to not be in your position. But enough chit chat, Y/N needs to learn and you’re going to be a very good boy and help us out.”

You watched his table of instruments appear, Alistair handing you his favorite curved blade.

“You know the hunter special?” he asked you. You nodded, staring at the tool. “Show George here how it goes.”

You stared down at the man, holding up the blade.

“I’m sorry,” you said. You spun around and stabbed it into Alistair, sighing when he disappeared in front of you, appearing off to the side unharmed. “It was a trick.”

“You tried to trick me first,” he said, your body back on a rack, George free and on his feet now. “So George. Would you like to try?”

George stopped apologizing a while back, just slid up, did his thing and moved onto the next person. You didn’t blame him. It was hard to blame someone that had lost their humanity bit by bit. It was easier that way.

“What do we say today?” asked Alistair. You shook your head and heard him leave you, a few hours of sleepless alone time your one reprieve of the day. 

You heard your cell door open and you didn’t even care that they weren’t giving you a break this time.

You just didn’t care anymore.

You sucked in a deep breath, darkness surrounding you. Something was wrong. You weren’t on the rack. You weren’t in your cell. Something just felt wrong. The air felt wrong. Space felt wrong. 

You slammed your hand and scraped it on something, a stinging pain hitting you.

A very different kind of pain than you were used to. You tried to sit up and smacked your head immediately, groaning at the dull throbbing. 

“I’m alive,” you said to yourself, letting out a shaky breath. “As long as I don’t run out of air.”

You suddenly realized how cold you were, hands feeling around more slowly this time, smooth metal all around you.

“I’m in a morgue drawer again. I’ll be interested to know how…” you said to yourself, quickly realizing you were starting to freeze to death. “Shit.”

You felt around over your head, finding a little string somehow and you pulled, the door flying open. You caught it and pulled yourself out, dropping to the floor with a shake. You righted yourself, finding a doctor standing over an open body. He stared and gave a little wave.

“Uh hi,” you said, wrapping your sheet around yourself. “I’ll just...see myself out.”

You jogged out of the room and down a hall, discovering you were in a county clerks office after a moment. You slipped into a breakroom and found some old clothes in a donation bin, stealing what you could before you were out of there on bare feet.

“Mom? Dad?” you called when you got to the house, opening the door with the spare key. You went inside and to the kitchen, grabbing some water before your glass went flying and you were tackled to the floor. 

You spun around on your back, staring up at a very angry looking Dean.

“Dean! Dean, it’s me!” you said.

“That’s what the shifter two months back said,” he snarled, holding up his arm, a big knife in his hand.

“Get off!” you shouted, kneeing him hard as you scrambled away, smacking your head on the corner of the kitchen table in the process. You fell to your hands and knees, rolling to your side as Dean walked in front of you. He knelt down and grabbed your wrists, staring at you before he made a small cut on the back of your hand. You stared up at him when nothing happened, some water tossed on you next. “It’s me!”

“Sweetheart?” he asked. He tossed the blade aside and pulled you into the most earth crushing hug you’d ever had.

“Dean. I need to breathe,” you said. “Also some water and food would be nice.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Here,” he said, pulling you to your feet and sitting you down at the kitchen table. He ducked into the fridge and pulled out half of an uneaten sandwich, sliding it in front of you. He was quick to get another glass of water for you, picking up the broken pieces of the other one while you dove in. You were nearly finished when he grabbed a chair and sat it next to you, watching you carefully.

“You make this?” you said with a mouthful.

“Yeah,” he said.

“You always make good sandwiches,” you said, wiping off your hands. He waited a few seconds before he was hugging you again, pressing you to his chest. “How long has it been?”

“About a year and a half,” he said.

“Are you okay?” you asked, reaching a hand up to his face. He chuckled and held on tight.

“You’ve been in hell a year and half and ask if I’m okay,” he said. “Yeah, I’m good sweetheart. I missed you so much. Longest 18 months ever.”

“Yeah,” you said with a hard swallow. 

“You want to get cleaned up?” he asked. You nodded, pausing when you turned to leave. “What?”

“You didn’t make a deal, did you?” you asked. He shook his head. “You promised.”

“I kept my promise,” he said quietly. “No matter how much I didn’t want to.”

“Me too,” you said.

“You didn’t sneak out then I take it?” he asked.

“No. You don’t know how I got out then?” you asked.

“No. I’ll call your dad. They’re away right now. Let’s have you take it easy for a little bit. You need to rest,” he said.

“Alright,” you said, holding out your hand. “Come with me?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Sh,” you heard Dean say when you stirred awake in your old room after your shower, head nestled on his chest. You curled back into him, Dean quiet for a few minutes but he was obviously texting someone. You blinked open your eyes, Dean dancing his fingers up and down your arm. “Go back to sleep, Y/N.”

“I don’t want to,” you said. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” he said, putting his phone aside.

“S’okay if you have a girlfriend now. Probably shouldn’t have taken a shower with me if you do but-“

He pressed a kiss to your lips, fixing your hair after a moment.

“The only girl I have is you, my fiancé,” he said. You stared up at him, Dean moving you to rest your head on a pillow before he sat up. “I may not have told the whole truth earlier.”

“You sold your soul you-“ you said, ready to give him the ass kicking of his life when he turned his head, so confused looking you stilled. “You didn’t.”

“I got close. I...I may have gone to a crossroads and even talked to a demon about it but I didn’t do it,” he said. “But I never went back to Lawrence.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, taking his hand.

“Your parents trained me. To hunt,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m a hunter now. A pretty good one too,” he said. You dropped his hand and stood up, going to the bedroom door. “Y/N, wait.”

“Where are they? I’m going to kill the both of them,” you said.

“No, you aren’t and they didn’t put me up to this. I asked, willingly,” he said.

“You what?” you shot back. “I asked you not to.”

“I know. But I also watched those dogs rip you apart. I didn’t want to be helpless again so I learned. I was texting another hunter earlier. I told him I couldn’t meet up on a hunt a few hours from here. That’s all it was,” he said.

“All it was?” you said with a laugh, looking him over. “Look at you. You’re so much bigger and stronger than I remember. You practically killed me downstairs.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I am,” he said.

“You know why I left hunting? Because people die and they get hurt and it fucks them up. I wanted a normal life away from this Dean. I never wanted this for you,” you said.

“Well it happened. Now I know how to protect you,” he said.

“Alistair will try again,” you said, a tiny shiver running down your spine. “It doesn’t matter. All you did was give yourself nightmares for no good reason.”

“I already had ‘em,” he said. “I help people. Maybe this job sucks sometimes and it’s hard but I help people. I have spent all of this time trying, for you. I didn’t get you out but I’m sure as hell not letting you spend another year and a half there again.”

“Did you ever get close?” you asked.

“Not really.”

“I need some air,” you said.

“I-“

“I need some air,” you said, leaving the room and going outside, wandering to the far garage and taking a seat on the workbench. It didn’t take long for Dean to find you, quiet as he leaned against the table.

“You mad at me?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you sighed. “I just didn’t want you to wind up like me.”

“You’re amazing. Why wouldn’t I want to be like you?” he asked. “Total badass on top of that. You held out for a year and a half in hell. That’s-“

“It wasn’t a year and a half,” you said.

“How long was it then?”

“Hundred and eighty,” you said softly, Dean’s face losing its color.

“Years?” he breathed out. You nodded, grabbing his arm when you thought he was going to fall over. “Oh my God.”

“Dean, sit down before you pass out,” you said, helping to sit up on the bench. 

“A hundred and eighty years?” he whispered, looking you up and down. “What-“

“It’s not like, normal years. It is but it isn’t,” you said. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Sweetheart,” he said. “Sweetheart, no one could last-“

“I promised,” you said, gripping the edge of the bench hard. 

“How bad.”

“Dean.”

“How bad did they hurt you?” he asked.

“Worse than you could possibly imagine,” you said, ducking your head down. 

“Did they-“

“Yes. They did it all Dean,” you said. “And then some.”

“You could have broke,” he said. “Sweetheart, you could have and no one would have blamed you. No one could last that long.”

“I just remembered I made a promise. I couldn’t remember what it was sometimes but I knew I made one. I held on to that one little scrap for dear life,” you said.

“I’ll never hunt again,” he said, grabbing your hand. “Never.”

“He’s gonna come back,” you said.

“I’m gonna kill him,” said Dean. “I’ll kill ‘em all. Lock them away.”

“That’s not possible,” you sighed.

“We don’t know that. One way or another, I’m making sure these things leave you the hell alone.”

You jumped up in bed that night, Dean’s hands on you only a slight comfort as you looked around the room.

“S’okay. Just a bad dream. You’re safe,” he said.

“Yeah,” you said, pinching yourself, knowing you were still back home.

“You’re awake, I promise,” he said, wrapping his arms around you.

“Pain is different here. I can’t explain it but it is. It’s how I know I’m back,” you said.

“It kinda makes sense. It’s another plane of existence, right? Hell?” 

“I suppose. A really sucky one,” you said. You sighed and leaned back against him, Dean rubbing your arm. “I’m okay. Go back to sleep, Dean.”

“You’re not okay,” he said, keeping you close, kissing the top of your head. “You don’t have to let it out tonight but whenever you decide to, I’m here, alright?”

“You don’t sleep in hell,” you said quietly. “All I wanted was a night of sleep and I can’t seem to even get through one.”

“You will. You’re safe here. You try to relax and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you,” he said. “Promise.”

You smiled and closed your eyes, Dean shifting the two of you to lay after a minute. 

“So where do you want to go on our honeymoon?” he asked quietly.

“Somewhere warm,” you said.

“We can do that,” he said. “You want like a blowout wedding or a small backyard kind of thing?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “We can figure it out.”

“Do you still…” he trailed off, your gaze going up.

“Yeah. I still want to marry you,” you said quietly. 

“Me too,” he said as you yawned. “I’ll be quiet. You rest now. It’s okay. I promise. He’s not coming near you ever again.”

______