#this man in a leather jacket and eyeliner

[urhoneycombwitch]

Eddie Munson orders a whiskey neat because the guy in a cowboy show he watched one time drank it. and he gags on the first sip. like wow you can really TASTE the alcohol in here. bartender I’ll have your fruitiest cocktail please.

[thetardigrape]

I wanna take a minute to talk about the Looks of the entire cast of OFMD S2.

I think we're all pretty familiar with the male gaze. Lots of skin, tits and ass, that sort of thing.

The female gaze has been debated, but it looks something like a sexy college professor or himbo househusband.

What OFMD S2 absolutely nails is the queer gaze.

Look at this man.

An absolutely beautiful man. Who wears crop tops and leather pants. Long hair up in a messy bun. He's wearing eyeliner. And pearls.

And here.

Drawn on facial hair. Spaulders. Bracers. Fishnet sleeves. A MOTHERFUCKING MULLET.

These badasses.

The teeth and chains. SO MUCH MAKEUP. Big fancy coat with nothing underneath. Glam met goth and fucked out these looks.

And THE SWEDE!

Cropped jacket. Ponytail. Asymmetrical button fly. Decorative chains (again).

All of this screams queer. If I saw any of these people in a bar I'd be like "Yep, one of us." The gender fuckery of it all. The feminine and the masculine all thrown in together in perfect combinations. Decoration for its own sake. Jewelry and flashy adornment and gorgeous peacockery.

And we love it. The fandom is going absolutely feral over these looks, these actors, as we very well should. There is not a single member of this cast who has not had beautiful art lovingly made depicting them.

Fuck the male gaze, fuck the female gaze. Give me the queer gaze. Give me queer creators making queer media for queer audiences and absolutely nailing it. These people are not at all what Hollywood usually thinks sexy looks like, yet we want to devour every one of them. This is what queer beauty looks like. What queer sex appeal looks like. What queer desire looks like.

Fuck yes. It's about time.

[hairmetal666]

It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.

He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.

Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.

"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.

it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.

And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.

"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.

"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"

"Eddie?" Dustin asks.

"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.

"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"

They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.

"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."

"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't answering your walkie!"

"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.

Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.

"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"

"Mom and I were looking for you!"

"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.

"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.

"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."

"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."

He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.

---

A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."

"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."

"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"

Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."

Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.

"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"

"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.

He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.

---

Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"

"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"

"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.

"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"

Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"

"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.

Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."

The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"

He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"

"He started it!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"

"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"

She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."

He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."

"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."

---

It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.

It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.

With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.

"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.

"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.

Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.

"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."

"But--why?"

"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.

"What?" He laughs.

"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."

"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"

"You wanted me to come?"

"Dustin didn't..."

"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."

"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."

"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.

"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.

"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."

"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.

"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"

"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.

"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.

"So Dustin said."

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Too bad. He's a nice kid."

"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."

"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"

"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."

The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.

[stevebabey]

have sum steddie! maybe modern!au, no upside down!au & a meet cute <3 | ao3

Steve sits in the booth, his foot tapping away mindlessly under the table, with half a mind to abandon the table entirely.

In fact, the only reason he hadn’t yet was because of the $20 he was hanging out for at the end. And the bragging rights, of course.

Robin had set him up on this blind date, plied him with all the promises in the world that he would enjoy it — said she’d spent a decent amount of time hunting for the right first gay date for Steve.

She also conceded that if he, for whatever reason, didn’t enjoy it, she would cough up 20 whole bucks for his wasted time. But he had to actually see the date through for the prize to be claimed.

And the bragging rights were so that Robin — with her uppity, healthy, and happy relationship that Steve was only a little bit envious of — could ease onto the breaks when it came to Steve’s love life.

So it was looking a little bleak at the moment, so what? Every stallion or… lion or whatever had their moments, right? Moments where their mane is a little uncouth and food is low and…. Where was he going with this?

The point was, that Robin got into one relationship and suddenly decided she was fit to become a high and mighty matchmaker. Never mind that Steve had reminded her numerous times that he had dated a lot more than she had.

So, for 20 bucks and the right to stick his tongue out at his best friend when she tried to meddle, Steve could stick one night out.

Besides, she was right about one thing. They weren’t in Hawkins anymore — and San Francisco had a hell of a larger dating pool than his hometown.

Still, that didn’t make people anymore for prompt for dates though, apparently. Steve’s foot taps incessantly under the table, his knee bouncing up and down in his nerves. He runs a hand through his hair and checks his watch again.

7 o’clock, Harvey’s Diner, a cute little Italian place that Steve had begun to frequent since they moved to the city, and a date with a dude called Daniel whom Steve had no idea what he looked like.

This was his Friday night plans.

His watch reads 7:12pm and Steve sighs, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the strap of his watch just for something to do. Great. He had gotten all dressed up for this? To be stood up? How was this any better than his usual Friday night plans that Robin claimed were so pathe—

“Hi.”

Someone sits down in the booth across from Steve, landing with a thump loud enough to give him a fright.

Steve’s head whips up from its focus on fiddling with his watch and— woah. Steve blinks once, twice, and feels his jaw unhinge a little, his lips parting an inch as he gazes at the stranger across from him.

Holy shit, this dude was hot.

He’s got curls for days, dark chocolate ringlets all messy and unkept spilling over his shoulders— long and probably perfect for burying your hands into. Steve flushes a little at the unexpected thought.

He has beautiful brown eyes, widened with a smudge of eyeliner and framed with long lashes. Steve thinks he can spy a smattering of freckles across his forehead. His nose is long and his lips are plush and pink and holy shit, this dude was pretty.

“Oh— hi.” Steve manages to remember his manners. Only after he fully checked this dude out, of course.

God, couldn’t Robin have given him a better warning than just ‘he’s probably your type’? Couldn’t she have warned him that this dude was ‘do-a-double-take-on-the-street type hot?’ What the fuck Robin?

The man across from him grins, wicked and alluring all at once, and shucks off his heavy leather jacket. His eyes do a once-over on Steve, taking his time to check him out— which is great because Steve is stuck on all the glorious tattoos that have just been revealed. So much skin shown in his roughly chopped muscle-tee, swirling ink all down his arms. This dude is hot.

Silently, Steve curses Robin and the 20 dollars that is totally slipping away from him. Why did she have to be right all the time?

“Been waiting long?” The man, Daniel, asks as he makes himself comfortable across the table. He pushes his hair back with both hands, using one hand to gather it into a ponytail, holding it up to air out his neck and Steve now realises he is slightly puffed.

He must’ve run part of the way here, to avoid being later than he was. Steve can’t help but be slightly endeared by that fact.

The man grins again, “Promise I was trying to be on time but, you know how the subway is.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, any annoyance at being kept waiting melting away at his date’s sincerity.

“Not too long,” Steve admits, smiling to ease Daniel’s apparent concern. Across the table, Daniel slumps a little and releases his hair, his curls pooling back around his shoulders. Steve watches, entranced.

“Well, that’s good,” Daniel smiles, eyes bright like he really means it, and his hand darts out to steal the drinks menu from the edge of the table. He looks back over to Steve, a furrow in his brows. “You didn’t order anything?”

“I thought I should wait,” Steve says with a shrug. No point paying for food if your date never shows up.

Daniel looks up from the menu through his lashes and smiles, placing his elbow on the table and dropping his chin in the palm of his hand. “Aw, you’re sweet.”

Steve is a little embarrassed by how easily the compliment makes him blush, feeling his cheeks glow lightly. Across the table, Daniel seems to revel in it, drinking in the way Steve’s face filled with colour with a cheeky smile. His eyes flick back down to the menu.

“You know,” Daniel begins, keeping his eyes on the menu, scanning it with a hum. “Chrissy said you were good looking but I think she seriously undersold you.”

He takes his eyes off the menu to trail up Steve’s body, his gaze heavy. Steve feels a delighted zing go up his spine, feels the way he preens at Daniel’s attraction. Steve opens his mouth to respond, more than ready to return the flirt when—

“Can I get you two started with anything?”

The waitress interrupts. She’s poised with her notepad, standing at the edge of the booth. Daniel perks up and nods.

“Can I get a chocolate milkshake please?” He asks with a polite smile. Steve laughs lightly at his selection and Daniel’s gaze cuts from the waitress to Steve.

“What? Not a milkshake man?”

Steve tries to contain his grin, all too endeared by the man before him. He shakes his head and raises his hand in defense. “Nothing against milkshakes just… for dinner?”

Daniel gasps theatrically and his head snaps back to the waitress. “This man has never had the delight of a Harvey’s milkshake with his dinner. Please bring us two chocolate milkshakes!”

Steve watches as the waitress dutifully writes down the order and turns on her heel, heading for the kitchen. He turns back to his date and gapes, taken aback by the forwardness.

“Did you just order for me?”

“Did you just diss milkshakes?”

Steve scoffs, but even then he can’t stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He can’t believe it but he’s genuinely glad he waited this date out. It's not at all like he was expecting. Even Robin's short description of this dude pales in comparison to the real thing. Steve nudges his foot forward into Daniel’s shin lightly.

“I did not diss milkshakes,” Steve argues, his smile widening at how Daniel’s eyes dart to the table before back up at Steve with a grin.

“Uh huh,” Daniel nods, his voice sarcastic and 100% unbelieving of Steve’s insistence. “Just wait, okay? You’ll be changing your tune soon enough. Harvey’s milkshakes are class. I’ve had a thousand of my best ideas in here, sipping on a chocolate milkshake.”

Steve grins and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Under the table, he feels Daniel’s boot nudge against his leg gently— and he laughs to himself. This has gotta be the most teenage way of flirting and he’s fucking loving it.

“You know,” Steve begins hesitantly, letting his forearms lean up against the table. “You’re not quite what I expected, Daniel.”

Across the table, Daniel scrunches up his face, his expression one of pure befuddlement. He puts his hands flat on the table and leans forward.

“Wait, you think my name is Daniel?”

Steve splutters for a moment because even though the answer is duh, yes, it’s become increasingly apparent that the man across from him is not who he was expecting. But if he’s not Daniel, who is he?

Suddenly, the door chimes and someone else is entering the diner. It’s a man dressed like Steve — on the preppy side with hair that must’ve taken at least an hour. He scans the booth and spots Steve’s booth, wandering over, his eyes fixed on the man across from Steve.

“Hey, are you Eddie?” He asks confidently, ignoring Steve’s presence on the other side of the booth.

The man — Eddie — freezes as he glances up at the newcomer and then back down to Steve ahead of him. Steve deflates a little inside as he realises abruptly what’s happened— a mix-up of wrong dates that was completely warranted because this dude dresses exactly like Steve. Steve doesn't stare too long to see if he's any hotter.

Instead, he tries to give Eddie the all-clear with his eyes. He smiles polite as he can and gives a little nod to let him know it was alright to abandon him for the date he was supposed to go on. Not to get stuck with Steve.

Eddie clears his throat and smiles, not cheeky like he had with Steve, but stiff and polite. “Ah sorry man, I think you’ve got the wrong guy. My name's Daniel.”

Huh? Steve takes his eyes off the table to steal a glimpse at Eddie (is his name even Eddie?) and something inside him burns hotly when the man glances across at Steve and winks.

The man standing by the booth wavers for a moment, glancing between them in the booth as Steve schools his expression to neutral. After a moment of silence, there's a half-assed apology as the man retreats, heading back out the door he had just come through. The door chimes again on his way out.

Steve straightens up and peers over his shoulder, watching the door slowly swing shut. He turns back to the man across the booth and squints at him. The waitress returns briefly, dropping two large chocolate shakes onto the table, topped with a mountain of cream. She murmurs something about coming back to take their order in a moment.

"Wait, so who are you?" Steve asks, gently sliding his shake closer to him. "Daniel or Eddie?"

His date —well, his new date— has already begun taking a big long sip from his own milkshake, so enamored with it that when he pulls away there's a dot of cream on the end of his nose. He swallows with a satisfied ah and grins across the table at Steve, not noticing the dairy on his face.

"I'm whoever gets me talking with you a little bit longer."

Steve grins, an endeared roll of his eye at the blatant flirting but he can't deny how it makes his chest warm. He grabs one of the napkins and reaches forward, adoring how Eddie goes cross-eyed as he watches Steve smudge away the cream on his nose. He laughs sheepishly, giving his nose a little wipe with his own hand.

"I'm Eddie." He says, finally introducing himself. He doesn't offer his hand, just gives Steve a little nudge under the table and a grin over his milkshake. "And I think you just saved me from a terrible date."

Steve laughs, giving a little shake of his head. He finally goes in for a sip of his own milkshake— and it's just as heavenly as Eddie had promised, glorious chocolate dancing over his taste buds.

Steve groans quietly, eyes bright when he glances at the other man over his glass, entirely amused by how wide-eyed Eddie has become. He releases the straw and sits back, more invested in this date than he has been in... years. Stallion's got its mojo back. Or lion. Whatever.

"I'm Steve," He responds, giving a little nudge back under the table and a grin of his own. "And I think you saved me from being stood up."

[bleedingoptimism]

They hear the ‘ding’ of the elevator as they walk inside the very luxurious building and Robin grabs Steve’s hand and makes them run to the door yelling, “Hold! Please!”

A hand covered in rings and with short nails painted black appears from inside and holds the door for them. They get in as Robin breathes out little ‘thank yous’ under her breath and Steve smiles at the gentleman who helped them. His brows go up a little at how handsome the man is. He’s wearing black dress pants and a black silk shirt under an also black suit jacket. The whole look is expensive and the man wears it very well. With his long curly hair tied at the back of his neck, plus the rings, the nails, and the surprising amount of piercings in his ears, he looks like a rockstar. He has a cute nose and full lips that look very enticing and big beautiful brown eyes that are looking back at him. 

Steve smiles once more and nods politely figuring he should stop staring. They have to go up like a billion floors or something so this is going to be a long elevator ride. Probably shouldn’t make their traveling companion uncomfortable. 

He distracts himself by looking at Robin, fixing her hair behind her ear. She looks great. Slack pants and a tight dress shirt in grey tones with black suspenders adorned with metal cufflinks. Short hair loose and just the right amount of disheveled and a graphic eyeliner so sharp it could cut you. He would know. He did her makeup. They were asked to dress party chick but professional, which neither of them knew what the hell meant but Steve is pretty sure Robin nailed it. He just hopes he did a good job too.

He’s wearing a white thigh shirt of a soft material he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of and black dress pants, the ones that fit him like a second skin, paired with a big leather belt, just to add a little extra. He tries to inconspicuously check himself out in the mirrors of the elevator but accidentally meets eyes with the well-dressed man again. Who adverts his gaze quickly and Steve realizes he just caught him checking him out. He smiles to himself and looks down bashfully only to be horrified by what he notices because, his white shirt? The stupid fabric he can’t name? Totally sheer. Well not totally, but a little. Like he can see his nipples right now a little.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

“Robin, we need to go.” he suddenly says grabbing Robin by the back of the elbow. 

Robin turns to him previously just nervously watching the floor numbers change and frowns worried, “What? We are already here, Steve! What do mean?”

“I need to go home and change Robin! I can’t-” He whispers to her, although he knows it’s in vain, there’s no way the handsome man isn’t about to hear a very embarrassing conversation. 

“We are literally in the elevator. We are not going back home so you can change!” Robin huffs annoyed now that she knows it wasn’t anything more serious, “What’s wrong with your clothes?” she asks pinching his shirt between her fingers.

Steve turns his back to the man and crowds Robin, facing her, “Can you see my nipples?” he asks trying to keep his voice low but he hears a cough that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle behind him. 

Robin looks at him like he’s lost his mind but, as always she goes with it, “Yes?” 

Steve puts his palms over them and gasps and Robin starts laughing “What are you doing?” she says between giggles at the same time Steve exclaims, “I can’t show our new boss my nipples!” 

“Steve, what?! I thought it was on purpose! You know, just a peek, a little chess hair, a little nipple.” Robin says still laughing but stops when she sees Steve is looking actually distressed. 

She huffs and runs her hands up and down his arms comfortingly.

“Why would I want to show them my nipples!” Steve groans and Robin shrugs.

“It’s sexy? We were asked to dress for a party”

“Why would I want to look sexy for work?” Steve asks again, still trying to convince Robin to let him go home and change.

But Robin tilts her head to the side, “But you can’t turn that off, though? Like, you are always sexy.”

Instantly his mood changes and he smiles and coos at her, “Aww, that’s so sweet, babe! But you are biased…”

Robin scoffs at being babied and raises an eyebrow, “How am I biased?”

“Because you love me!” Steve answers like it’s obvious. And Robin nods as if taking in the information.

“Okay. I see your biases and I raise you the following point: It’s objective. Because I’m a lesbian.”

Steve laughs, but he’s not the only one. For a second, Steve had forgotten they had an audience member. A very handsome audience member. He blushes, the guy must think he’s such an idiot. But at least he thinks they are funny. He turns back to his side and smiles at him again. 

But Robin suddenly jumps a little beside him, like she had just noticed him, and says, “Stranger! Opinion?”

“Rob, no-” Steve starts but Robin leans over him to talk to the man, “Shirt. Good? Bad?” She says moving her hands in front of Steve as if she was showcasing him. Steve blushes some more and tries to keep a neutral face. So he ends up just white-man smiling awkwardly.

The man chuckles again and then looks at Steve from top to bottom and back again, “You look good,” he says smirking.

And Steve's blush deepens. But Robin either doesn’t notice or is enjoying it, because she keeps questioning him, “Good. What are thinking? Slutty or sexy?”

The man leans his head to the side, his eyes roaming over Steve's chest and Steve has to resist the urge to cover his nipples again.

“It’s sexy.” he says, voice deep and serious as if this was an important conversation and not Robin and Steve being dumbasses, “Like, sophisticated sexy.”

Steve shakes himself to try to make his blush go away and addresses the man, “I- well, thank you, first. And second, I’m sorry you were dragged into this. But would you want to look sexy meeting your new boss?” he asks him.

He taps his chin in thought and then says, “Your friend is right though, are already here. Just don’t flirt with them and you'll be fine!” 

At that Steve purses lips and Robin snorts rudely. “That might be a problem,” she says.

The man laughs surprised and Steve can’t help but think he has a really nice laugh, “How?” he asks them.

“Steve has a little miscommunication problem,” Robin explains, “When he tries to be charming people think he's flirting.”

Steve crosses his arms and huffs making the few locks that fall on his forehead lift a bit and fall back down, “I have no idea what I’m doing wrong! I’m just trying to be nice..”

The man is looking at him with raised eyebrows and he blinks a couple of times before snickering, “Looks like your friend is right, again. You just can’t turn sexy off, uh?”

Robin laughs really hard at that and Steve goes back to full tomato status.

“I could've tried!” he says, not even sure what are they arguing about anymore.

“How?” Robin asks him amused.

“I don’t know, a big sweater? Something knitted, comfy?” he tries but they both shake their head at him.

“That sounds sexy too,” The man says and Steve frowns,

“Literally. How?” 

“It gives off fuck vibes. Like you are really fuckable,” he says, and then his eyes go wide and he bites his lips.

Robin’s eyes go wide too and she snorts, looking at Steve who is just staring at the guy with his mouth hanging slightly open.

“Sorry!” the man says, raising his hands in mock surrender, “That was so out of line- I- oh! Saved by the bell it seems,” he says when the elevator dings, “This is my floor”

The doors open and Argyle and Jon are on the other side and Steve realizes, this is also their floor.

“Eddie!” Argyle says as the man moves towards him and they shake hands enthusiastically. 

“Steve, Robin” Jon greets them with a smile as they slowly walk out of the elevator, watching Eddie’s deer-in-the-headlights expression.

“Ah! I hope you had a pleasant elevator ride and didn’t do anything awkward!” Argyle jokes completely oblivious, “I’m a little sad I didn’t get to introduce you guys!”

“...What do you mean?” Robin asks with a forced smile.

“Steve, Robin: This Eddie Munson!” Argyle says moving behind Steve and Robin and hugging them by the shoulders so they stand directly in front of Eddie, “Your new boss!”

[gallavichsreddie1128]

The Getter (Soldier Boy)

Description: When Soldier Boy first saw Y/N he wanted her but she was hooking up with someone else in the group.

Warning: Smut, Thigh Riding

Word Count:2,011k

He smirked as she walked in the room. He hadn’t seen her before but wanted to see more of her. She was beautiful. She hadn’t even seen him yet as she was too busy talking to Hughie about what just happened. He ate his burger and watched them talk. She was in a nice fitting pair of jeans and a leather jacket. Her hair was straight and she had on eyeliner and red lipstick. She was a catch. She looked to be about 25 or so but that didn’t matter to him. “And this is soldier boy.” Hughie introduced him to her, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Hey sweetheart.” He said with a smirk. She rolled her eyes and his smirk dropped. “Yeah, nice try but she’s not easy like that.” Hughie said to him. He grumbled “yeah right.” Soldier Boy knew he was hot and there hadn't been many women that haven’t fallen to their knees for him. He was just gonna have to break her. 

“So you work for these dorks?” He asked her. She looked at him. “Well my brother is one of the dorks.” She said. Hughie? That’s her brother? It couldn’t be Billy because she was flirting with him earlier and MM? MM had a brother but not a sister. Frenchie also only had a brother, so that leaves Hughie. “Hughie is your brother?” He asked. She nodded. He looked at her and basically checked her out. Her eyes glared at him. “Do you think Hughie would mind if I fucked his sister?” He smirked. She rolled her eyes and scoffed in disgust. “His sister would care.” She said and walked away. Soldier Boy smirked. She would be his sooner or later. 

He watched as she flirted with Billy. Billy was smiling at her as she gave him the fuck me eyes. He glared at the two as they were basically fucking in front of him. What did Billy have that he didn’t? Her hand was rubbing his bicep as they were talking about god knows what. He couldn’t focus on the words, only the touching and obvious flirting they were doing. “Would you two get a room already?” He asked, annoyed. They look at him as their smiles fall. “Maybe we will.” She said and grabbed Billy’s hand leading him in the direction of his room. “Fucking hell.” He grumbled. 

“So your sister and Billy…” He trailed off. Hughie looked at him confused. “What about them?” He asked. Ben looked at him. “So how long have they been fucking?” Hughie shot up from his seat and looked at Ben in horror. “What?” He realized that Hughie didn’t know that they were fucking. He smirked just thinking of what was going to happen and oh boy he wasn’t going to miss this. 

“So you guys have been fucking behind my back?” Hughie yelled. Soldier Boy smirked. Billy and Y/N looked down. “How’d you find out?” Billy asked. “It doesn’t matter how I found out. Point is you guys kept it from me.” Hughie was mad, sad even. His best friend? And his sister. “Hughie I’m not a kid. I’m an adult. I can have sex with whoever I want.” Y/N Stood up. “I’m not saying that but you guys are doing this behind my back.” Hughie said. Y/N couldn’t figure out how he knew. They’ve been very secretive about it and kept it well hidden. I mean for the past 6 months they’ve kept it under wraps so how did he figure it out? MM and Frenchie didn’t know about it either given the looks on their faces. The only one with a not so shocked look was Soldier Boy. “It was you.” Y/n said pointing at him. He smirked at her but acted dumb. “What are you talking about?” He asked. She rolled her eyes. “Don’t play coy. You told Hughie about me and Billy.” She accused him. “Don’t know what you’re talking about sweetheart.” He said. “All because I wouldn’t have sex with you.” She said. Everyone perked up to what she said. “You told my brother about Billy and I because I turned you down. You can’t handle rejection. Well guess what Ben? Even if you were the last man on earth you still couldn’t get this.” She said. He just stared at her without saying anything. Everyone was shocked but she was angry. Not one person said anything. She huffed and left the room leaving everyone to their thoughts. 

He realized that he may have fucked up after she said all that. He honestly thought that she would eventually give into him but all she ever did was ignore him now. Anytime he walked in a room she walked out not wanting anything to do with him. It actually got to him. It got to him so bad that he ended up knocking on her door. “Who is it?” She asked. “It’s me.” He said. She stayed silent on the other end of the door waiting for him to go away. He knew she wouldn’t respond. “I know I'm the last person you wanna see or speak to but I just need you to listen.” He sighed. “I was jealous, okay? Of you and Billy. I know that’s not an excuse for telling him but that’s why I did. I also wasn’t aware that he didn’t know until after I had told him. It was my mistake and I’m sorry. Look I don’t handle rejection well you’re right about that. I honestly thought that eventually you would fall to your knees for me but I was wrong and I see that now so I’m sorry.” He said and leaned against her door. She sighed and opened the door. They faced each other and stared. “You need to learn that not every woman will want you no matter how good looking you are.” She said. “Wait, you think I'm good looking?” He asked with a smirk. “That’s really what you got from that?” She huffed and went to close the door. “Wait. I’m sorry I get what you’re saying.” She opens the door again. “But to answer your question, yes I do.” She said. He tried so hard not to smirk. “Well I think you’re beautiful.” He tells her.

She smiles and shakes her head. “I get it though. Why you did what you did. I know I’m irresistible.” She jokes. He laughs and nods. “Yeah you are.” He said. She looks around and motions for him to come inside. He walks in and she closes the door. Once she shut the door she pulled her shirt off. His eyes widen at the sight of her bare breasts on display. She threw the shirt at him and he caught it. He chuckled and threw it to the ground. “What are you doing?” He asked her. She pulled down her shorts revealing no underwear as well. “You and I are gonna have some fun.” His jaw dropped. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” She asked and went and laid on her bed. It took him a minute to process what was happening but he quickly stripped and joined her in bed. She laughed as he landed right next to her. He quickly turned to the side and kissed her. She kissed back cupping his jaw. He pulled her on top of him and she deepened the kiss. His hands running all over body. She started grinding down on him. His hands gripped her hips as she humped his thigh. He pulled away from the kiss to kiss her neck.

She moaned as he nibbled a bit and left a mark. Her hips continued to drag on his thigh. He watched as she rode him and looked at her face. She looked like a dog in heat, rutting against his leg. He couldn’t help but smirk. “Look at you humping my leg like a bitch in heat.” She moaned at his words. Her hips moved faster and faster and her moans got louder. “Fuck Soldier Boy.” She moaned softly. “Call me Ben sweetheart.” He told her and she nodded moaning his real name. His hands placed on her hips helped her thrust. “Holy fuck your thigh feels so good. I-I can o-only imagine what your d-dick feels like.” She manages out. He felt pride in the fact that this beautiful woman was about to cum on his thigh and that it was all she needed.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her body forward more. Her mouth was right by his ear so all he heard was her breathing and moaning. “Such a pretty sight.” He said as he rubbed her hips. His dick was so hard and ready for her pretty pussy but this was also pretty hot. “Fuck Ben. I’m so close.” She moaned in his ear. “Yeah baby? Why don’t you let go all over my thigh and then I’ll let you cum all over my dick. Sounds good?” He asked. She nodded and gasped as the knot in her stomach tightened. The edge was right there and she was about to fall over it. Her hips lost their rhythm as she gasped loudly. He felt her warm gush come out as she came hard all over his muscular thigh. “That’s it baby. Ride it out.” He says and watches her hips move slowly as she rides out her perfect orgasm. She opened her eyes and her hips stopped.

His eyes traveled down her body and he smirked. “You have such a perfect body. I can’t wait to fuck it.” He says. She smiles at him. “What are you waiting for then?” She asked with a smirk that matched his. He flips them over so he’s on top. He looks at her body one more time and starts stroking his thick cock. “Are you ready sweetheart?” He asked her. “Always.” She smirked. He pushed her legs apart and entered her. She gasped at the feeling of his long thick cock inside out her. She wrapped her legs around his hips pushing him in more. “Fuck you’re so warm and tight.” He groans. She takes one of his hands and intertwines it with hers. He chuckled and began thrusting. “Ben.” She moans loudly, not caring who heard her. He closed his eyes for a second enjoying her warmth.”Fuck you feel so good sweetheart.” He moaned and moved faster. She was letting out all kinds of dirty noises and gasps. He watched as her face contorted to pleasure. Her mouth was shaped in a perfect o and her eyes were closed.

He was letting out grunts and groans at the feeling of her perfect pussy. Her walls were fluttering around him and he was getting close. “Tell me doll does Billy fuck you like this?” He asked her. He opened his eyes and watched her shake her head No. “Mmmm that’s not good enough, baby. I need you to say it.” “No.” She moans and gasps. “No, what?” He teased her. “He doesn’t fuck me as good as you.” That was his breaking point and he came inside of her. “Fuck.” He groaned. She had yet to cum and with being a Supe he didn’t need time to cool down. “Scream my name when you cum doll. I want everyone on the planet to know who’s fucking you.” He told her and watched her jaw drop as her climax was right there. “BEN.” She screamed as she fell over the edge once again but this time felt so much better. His hips didn’t stop until her climax was over. 

“So I’m better than Billy?” He asked as she laid on his chest and he was rubbing her back. “I don’t know.” His face dropped. “I think you might need to fuck me again just so I can make sure.” She said. The smirk came back on his face and he pulled her on top of him. “This time I wanna see these pretty little tits bounce.” He said and pinched one of her nipples making her groan.

[the-kr8tor]

In Pursuit of Blood: A trip down goblin lane.

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Vampire hunter! Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Synopsis: You, an amateur vampire hunter, find it really hard to kill the one vampire you were tasked to kill.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), same universe as the WWDITS series, CW blood, TW violence, CW suggestive, Mockumentary AU, established relationship, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @al1x00 (ly fr) for the idea! Happy 1k! 🫶 (Enjoy my attempt at humor lol)

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Hobie's Masterlist

The camera focuses on a leather clad man sitting on a patchwork armrest. His long leg is crossed over the other, metal clinking against each other when he moves. He places his elbow on the armrest, hand under his chin, ringed fingers tapping on his cheek—bored and clearly disinterested. Red eyes lined with dark eyeliner, piercings glimmering under the camera lights, sharp nails painted, he makes the crew suck in a breath.

He's the perfect picture of a rockstar.

The dimly lit gothic home provides the perfect backdrop to the ‘confession booth’, various books, knick knacks from far flung places are littered all over the living room. A grand piano stands proudly to his left, dark oak polished and well taken care off. Tapestries from the sixteenth century are tacked on the walls next to seventies and eighties band posters. His coat rack is full of jackets that look like they come from different times in history.

The producer nods at him, asking for the man's name, his voice just above a whisper so that the microphones don't catch the sound.

He sighs, jaws tighten for a second. “Name's Hobie, Hobie Brown.” His voice shakes the crew's bones. The blond haired producer clears his throat and Hobie rolls his eyes like a spoiled celebrity. “And I'm a vampire.” he says flatly.

The blond gestures for him to continue, asking him how old he is. “Fuckin' hell.” Hobie says under his breath. “Were you not taught manners? Come off it, you don't ask a vampire their age.”

The clipboard holding man, who pretends to be important, asks him why he agreed to the interview if he's so disinterested.

“Fine,” He smiles, showing his sharp fangs, the simple act makes the documentary team's heart skip a beat. “Before you say ‘m following a trend of vampires givin' interviews and a ‘peak behind the cape’ like the wankers in staten island or the lovebirds in dubai. ‘m not, ‘m only doin' this because,” he points dramatically at the clipboard holding man. “Your director told me all proceeds from this goes to charity. And it better be—”

Something thumps outside. The camera sharply turns to the closed floor length curtains.

“Oi, eyes back ‘ere.” Hobie exclaims, the camera whizzes back to his figure. “Again, vampire, been alive for…” he inhales, “a long bloody time. Been a pirate, a cowboy, hell even a rockstar. But always an anarchist.” He says proudly. “I've been rebelling against the one who bit me for centuries,” the camera zooms in on his scowl. “Hate that knobhead.”

Something falls right outside his windows, a groan and a curse sounding out, voice muffled by the walls.

The crew expects Hobie to hiss or even deal with the intruder but he smiles, posture loosening up.

“That,” he points at the source of the ruckus. “That’s a vampire hunter.” Smiling, the crew could hear a muffled ‘fuck you’ behind the walls. “She's been hunting me for a few years now. She—eh, hasn't been close.”

The cursing was louder, camera swishing towards the source, your angry face peeking out from the curtains. The boom mic captures your annoyed growl clearly as you place your face as close as possible on the glass.

“Fuck you, Hobart!”

He chuckles as the crew's face grows with concern. “Don't worry, she's—I guess bad at her job. She's interestin’ though. Y’know what, let me just show you.” He stands up, the cameras and the entire crew follows him through the hallways of his home.

The cameraman almost trips on a stray guitar on the floor. “Careful now, that was a present from some rockstar in the seventies. That's why I leave it on the floor, it works best as a boot scraper.”

Hobie stops in front of double doors, scenes of a love story are carved on the wood.

“It was a gift.” He addresses the doors, “not my first choice but where else would I put the bloody thing?” With a small push, hands braced on both doors, he reveals the expansive room lined with hundreds of paintings and photographs.

He sucks in his teeth. “The entire house is a gift, I'd rather live in a boathouse honestly but this works fine I guess.” Shrugging, he points at the oldest looking wood carving hanging on the wall. A man kneels in front of a woman, rose in his hand as she looks down at him with glee.

“Yes, that's me courting. The wood carver fucked up the scene though, it was more like me ravaging– uh” he clears his throat “…this won't show in pbs right?”

The people behind the cameras shrug as Hobie looks to them for an answer.

“I'll tone it down then, for the children, just in case.” He continues down the lineup of pictures.

Stopping by a large painting of what looks like Hobie in medieval clothing. The painted version of him is surrounded by flowers and trees. His antlers protruding from his head, webs clings to his arms.

“This was when people thought I was fae.” He makes a face, “everyone was tripping on shrooms back then.” walking towards the middle of the room, passing by a few more paintings and tapestries, He pauses on a yellowed painting of a woman who looks similar to you, only less angry.

“Look at her,” sighing, the vampire has heart eyes while looking at the painting. “this was before she was cursed by that bitcharse jealous witch. Now every descendant of hers is cursed to never harm me or any of my spawns, which is bad because they all think I killed their ancestor, and all they want is to kill me. A consequence of dating a vampire hunter during the fifteenth century, I guess.”

“The curse is a two way street, they can't kill me, I can't hypnotize them. It's not that I want to anyway.” he continues.

Another ruckus echoes throughout the house. Hobie smiles again. “I believe she doesn't know about it, so hush, yeah?” He does a double take. “Wait, can you cut that part out?”

—

The second crew runs towards you as you climb the tresses of the house. The camera lens zooms in on your clumsy climbing. Looking down, hearing leaves crunch underfoot, you yelp in surprise.

“What—?!” Losing your hold, you fall on a bush, landing directly at his wild flowers. “Ow! Who the fuck—?!”

—

Now sitting down on a lawn chair, leaves stuck in your hair, face and clothes covered in dirt, you scowl at the producer behind the camera.

Sighing, clicking your tongue, you answer their questions with another question. “Who the fuck are you guys?”

You raise an eyebrow at the words ‘documentary crew’ uttered by the producer.

“Seriously? Who would want to interview Hobart? Scratch that, is it because of those fuckers in staten island?”

A cameraman answers, ‘for charity.’

You blink in surprise, “charity? You fuckin' kidding me? Well if it's for the kids then.” sighing, you resign, looking directly at the camera with disdain, you say your first name. “And I'm a vampire hunter, I mean obviously I am just looking at all the stakes and holy water strapped to me. I look like I'm very fun at parties.” You say jokingly, “and church, probably. Dunno never been.”

The camera cuts back to Hobie still in the large room full of paintings and memorabilia.

“— I didn't do anythin’ wrong. They're absolutely mad at me for no reason—” he stops, thinking. “But I guess I was the reason their family was cursed innit?”

He changes subjects, showing the camera a painting near the end of the room.

“Oh this? This is when her great great great great grandfather almost got me, memories huh? He was mighty fit.” The crew zooms in on a gorgeous painting of a man trying to put a stake through Hobie's heart while he smiles up at him like he's smitten.

“Good times.” He chuckles.

—

“Fuck this.” You say, standing up from the chair, grabbing the mic off from your shirt abruptly. The camera follows you as you grab the lawn chair that you were just sitting on. You then proceed to throw it at a stained glass window. Giving you entry to his abode.

“It was gaudy anyway.” Entering the house, your shoes crunch the broken glass.

—

“Huh, she's inside. That's a record.” Hobie says almost excitedly. “I'll show you the rest of the room after this—.”

The double doors burst open, the camera swivels to you and the camera crew behind you. Holding a stake, you scowl at Hobie.

“Hello, darling, how was your commute?” He genuinely smiles.

“I have a car now, fuck you!” You lunge at him.

Lightning fast, he grabs your wrist right before the stake kisses his chest. The camera crews film on the sides, avoiding getting hit themselves.

“Good for you, finally saved up then?”

Lifting your legs, you kick his chest, you tumble, landing on your feet, staring at him menacingly. “Yes! It's a kia!” you scream before you run full speed at him.

“You got a good deal on it? Automatic or manual?”

“No!” You swing at him, he dodges. “I think I got swindled!” Kick “And it's a manual!” Punch “I’m not a pussy!”

Hobie clicks his tongue, avoiding the pointed edge of the stake. “Point ‘em to me, love, maybe I can get you your money back.”

Stepping back further away, you pause while he stands at the end of the room. Changing your hold on the sharp wood, you throw it at him, he leans slightly, dodging the projectile. it hits the wall right next to your ancestor’s portrait.

“You'll just drink him dry like the last guy!”

He shrugs, making a face that makes you want to punch him harder. “Not my fault he was a knobhead.”

You bounce on your feet, pouncing at him. “He was my dentist!”

He moves to the side, seeing you running towards one of the paintings, in danger of getting smashed by you. In his panic, he raises his arm to stop you, accidentally clothes lining you. His wall-like arm hits you right on your face.

Falling harshly on the floor, you're completely unconscious.

Hobie looks at the cameras with concern. “Shit.”

—

You wake up on an ancient looking couch, it's soft despite its appearance. Lifting your head with a groan, headache punching through the back of your head, you grimace loudly at the camera crew still filming in the corner.

Falling back on the couch, you hide your flustered face with your arm, pulling the blanket further up your chest.

“I promise I'm not that bad at fighting.” You murmur, still hiding your face from the cameras. “You just caught me at a bad time.”

Hobie suddenly appears with a whoosh, he holds a metal tray with tea and a hot compress placed on it.

“Who's giving you a bad time?”

You audibly groan. “No one.”

He places the tray on the coffee table, sparing a quick glance at the camera. “I caught you lackin’ you're not always that bad. Tea?”

Wordlessly reaching up, you flip him the bird. Hobie smiles softly, tapping your legs to give him space on the settee. The documentary crew is surprised that you actually move to give way to him.

He sits by your legs, preparing your tea just like how you always take it. Two sugars and a dash of milk. The entire production staff is perplexed to say the least.

With a clink of the tea spoon against the cup, you sit up, wincing slightly. “Can I get another sugar cube?”

Hobie raises a brow, “it's that kind of day huh? What's bothering you, love?”

You scoff, taking a cube for yourself then plopping it in your tea cup. “Nothing.”

He flicks his eyes at the camera with a knowing glance. Resting his elbow atop his thigh, chin placed on his hand, he pokes at your leg using his foot. Wordlessly having a conversation. With a sigh and a frown, you sip at your tea.

“Ex kicked me out. Now I'm living with the family again.”

Hobie's nonchalance drops, hand instinctively reaching out to you until he realizes what he's doing, he retracts his hand back.

“Shit, ‘m sorry. Their loss.”

“Mm-hmm, consequences of living with someone you've only dated for three months.” You finish your drink in one gulp. “‘sides, I don't have to pay rent anymore.”

“You've got shitty taste in partners.” You snort, half agreeing with him. “But you have to live with your psycho family so there's that.”

You laugh, the camera zooms in on Hobie's pleased expression.

“They're tolerable now, mellowed out after they took out count Belois.” You look at Hobie, copying his position like a mirror.

“He was an arse, did all of us a favour.” he stares at your eyes while the camera continues to film, yet you two don't seem to notice them anymore.

“Yeah, wish I was there though.” You say in a small voice. “They never invite me to those hunts. Always left watching outside.”

Hobie reaches towards you again, this time he actually holds you. Long fingers curling around your wrist, his thumb rubbing gently. “If only they know how hard you could kick.”

“You barely moved when I kicked you.” Chuckling, your eyes sparkle under the dim lights.

“Well it's me,” he inches closer to you in the seat, knee brushing against yours. “But if it was any other vampire out there they would have flown.”

You scrunch your face. Laying your hand down to your thigh, Hobie intertwined his fingers around yours properly this time. The camera captures the confusing scene.

“Because they turned into a bat?”

He grins, showing you his teeth, you don't even flinch. “Nah, because you kicked ‘em too hard. Did you hit your head that hard?” Knocking his knuckles against your temple softly, you move back like lightning has struck you.

“No, I'm actually okay, thanks.” You take your hand away, eyes flitting nervously at the camera then to Hobie. “I gotta go, dinner with the psycho family.” Standing up, you take your belongings from the floor. “You know how it is.”

He looks up at you with an unreadable expression, “yeah, I know how it is.” He says forlornly.

Patting his shoulder awkwardly, your hand lingers for a half second. “Bye,” you stare at the crew in the corner, “bye to all of you, I guess. Don't get eaten.”

The camera pans towards Hobie who just shrugs, fangs poking out of his lips.

—

Hobie eats alone in his empty dining room. The table is long, made of strong narra, designed to sit a dozen or so people. He sits in the head of the table, utensils scraping against the bloodied plate. His goblet is full, untouched.

He looks up at the camera on the other side of the table, observing his every move.

“The table's a gift too.” He says before continuing to eat silently.

—

The camera follows Hobie throughout his day. Roaming aimlessly around the house, he floats above the ground, hand and feet sticking on the wall while he dusts pictures that's placed on the highest shelf.

In the afternoon, he writes music on his piano while he flashes back and forth towards the drums and guitar, testing the music he wrote.

The crew captures Hobie burying something in the backyard. Jacket off, tank top and bare arms in full display. Moonlight illuminating his skin. His necklaces clink together as he shovels in dirt, packing the hole in tightly. The producer asks something about familiars and Hobie scowls at the word.

“No, just no. ‘m fully against havin’ familiars, it's fuckin' wrong.” He sticks the shovel harshly on the soil when the producer questions him again. “Ask me again and you'll be the one ‘m burying next.”

The camera shuts off abruptly.

—

The small supermarket's repetitive jingle from the nineties irks Hobie as he shops for some meat. But what irks him more is the documentary crew finding him especially after he went out of his way to hide from them.

He tosses a box of your favourite tea in the basket, annoyed at the team behind the cameras and boom mics. “Do the lot of you have a tracker on me or somethin’?” Shaking his head, he stomps down the aisle, heavy boots thudding loudly on the floor.

With his leather jacket plus all the metal and spikes on him, Hobie looks like a regular punk shopping for groceries. But if you looked closer, stayed too long in his presence, your flight or fight response kicks in, rendering anyone frozen on the spot.

His ruby eyes scan around the soap display, trying to ignore the cameras and people trailing after him, he gets a whiff of a familiar scent: strawberries and cream, it's you.

Hobie's feet move on its own, carrying him towards your direction. He spots you standing in the fruit section, weighing a watermelon in your hands, knocking on it then listening to the sound closely like you're trying to eavesdrop.

“What's the watermelon saying?”

“Christ!” You jump, dropping the watermelon.

Thankfully he catches it before the fruit splatters on the linoleum. “Just me, love.”

Clutching your chest, you take deep breaths. “I thought I smelled something rotten.” He raises a brow at your comment. “What are you doing here? This is far from your place.”

“First of all, I smell like sandalwood and fresh linen, fuck you.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “And ‘m tryin' to avoid them.” He points behind him, towards the cameras.

“Augh, they're still following you?”

“Apparently I signed a contract, it's not a one time thing.” He places the watermelon back to the crate, taking one that is riper and sweeter just for you. He then gently drops it in your cart, you nod a thanks.

“I told you before don't sign anything when you're drunk off of alcohol filled blood.”

“You're right, lovie, should've listened to you. Can't blame me when I only hear music whenever you open your pretty mouth.” He leans on your cart nonchalantly, giving you his signature smirk that has people falling over themselves for centuries.

“That's not much of a compliment.” You grimace, unaffected by his charm. “Listen, since we're in a public place I'm not gonna try to kill you so please get off my cart, I've got some shopping to do.” Shaking the trolley, he leans away, dismayed. “Also, the owner seems to like me, which is rare enough, so I don't want to ruin my relationship with the old lady. Shoo, Hobart, I'm off the clock.”

“You've got two people who like you now. One more than the other, I suppose.”

You narrow your eyes towards the vampire. “Who's the second one.”

Hobie walks backwards, arm wrapped around his basket, smile blinding everyone in its vicinity. “Me, darling, isn't it obvious?”

The bright fluorescent lights shouldn't do him any favours but by god, he looks amazing under it.

You don't answer, the camera zooms into your hands gripping the handles of the shopping cart, chest heaving, swallowing thickly.

He leaves, going towards the cashier to pay for his groceries. And you spot a sign that's labeled ‘50% off on garlic!’ you glare at the camera, pushing the cart towards the display.

—

Hobie sits on his work table, pieces of a TV are jumbled out on the table as he tinkers with them. His hands shake slightly, he should really feed.

“—‘m pretty good with technology, not like the other vampires. I've adapted well with—” he sniffs, “wait, what's that smell?”

He opens the door to find thousands of garlic circling around his house, “what—?”

“Tada!” You pop out from the side, hands carrying bushels of garlic, no doubt smelling like it too. “Wait, no, not tada, that's in poor taste because you hate them.”

Hobie gags at the smell, eyes watery and irritated. “This is a bad idea!” He rubs at his eyes, tears fully streaming on his cheeks.

“Why? Because it's working?!” You cackle, throwing the vegetable like confetti, one lands right on top of your head.

“Because it attracts—!”

You screech when you feel a sharp tug at your coat. A little green creature shrieks at you, the sound rings your eardrums, almost breaking the boom mic. Its eyes are dark and glassy, ears pointed, teeth sharp.

“A Goblin?!” Falling on your ass, you crawl backwards, watching as more and more of them appear from the bushes.

“I'm a goblin.” The one with a worn out party hat says, voice cracking like foil.

“What are you a Pokémon?!”

Hobie runs after you as fast as he can with the garlic hindering him. “Get inside!” He yells, dragging you towards the door. His hands sizzle atop your arms, the garlic searing his skin.

The creatures skidaddles towards you, towards the smell of garlic. Waves upon waves of green skitter and crawl on all limbs, eyes hungry, mouths agape.

“Hobie!” You hold on to his wrists as the ground scratches your back. Kicking an incoming goblin, you yelp as the door closes at the nick of time.

Claws scratch at the windows and walls. One of them even bangs its head hard on the glass just to get to you.

Hobie hides you behind him, eyes still stinging and skin aflame. “Get to the basement!” He screams when one breaches the house with glass shattering. “Go!”

Running down, Hobie lets you and the crew go first. He grabs a cutlass from the wall, chopping one that comes a little too close to your leg.

You look back at him with worry. “Hobie!”

“I'll be there! Just go!” He grabs one by the neck, throwing it away haphazardly.

It yells a faint ‘whee’ as it sails through the house.

Reaching the large basement, you search for the light switch, a cameraman beats you to it and you yelp at the sudden brightness.

The basement is full of things from different centuries. An iron maiden lays discarded on the corner, its steel rusted and brown. A sculpture of a woman sits on a shelf, it looks like it's a long lost work of Rodin. There's a large tapestry depicting a vampire war that is now collecting dust on the wall.

But the thing that catches your eyes is the massive metal cage that sits in the middle of the room. You would gawk but the swarm of goblins are nearing the basement. The familiar thumping of boots shakes you with relief.

“Cage!” Hobie grabs you effortlessly, you have no time to react as he carries you like a duffel bag by your waist.

The crew follows frantically, closing the metal doors shut behind them just as the swarm gets close. They shriek and bang on the bars, little arms trying to reach towards you.

He lays you back to your feet, dropping the drenched sword on the ground, palms still healing. He cups your face, searching for any injuries.

“You alright?” He heaves, out of breath, legs covered in goblin bites and palms searing but he looks at you like you're the one who's bleeding.

Staring at him with your irises blown out, mouth slightly parted, you embrace him to his surprise and the crew's.

“I'm okay,” you lean away before he could hug back. Hands placed on his shoulders, nails digging into him like he's about to be yanked away from you. “Are you?”

Hobie forgets about the other people inside the cage and the goblins trying to nibble at him. It's only you in his hands, even though the pungent smell of garlic makes his nose itch. Eyes tender, touch gentle, he could only nod.

“Yeah, I'm good now.” His voice lacks the usual charm.

You can finally breathe. “I thought…I'm the only one that's allowed to kill you.”

Chuckling, he traces your jaw with his thumb. “I know. You're first in line, darling.”

The crew stands near the sides awkwardly.

—

The goblins are trashing Hobie's basement, and based on the sounds from upstairs, they're also wreaking havoc in the entire house.

You sit back to back with Hobie in the middle of the cage, away from the bars, hands braced to your sides, his own are mere inches away from yours. He's glad that the garlic smell has wafted away from you, but not enough to get rid of the goblins still hankering for your flesh.

The crew stays away from the openings of the cage whilst a handful of the creatures try to grab at their equipment. It's been hours since the initial attack and everyone's getting hungry and thirsty, including Hobie.

“Why do you even have a dungeon in your basement—? Wait, scratch that, don't answer.” You try to pass the time.

“It was for your great great uncle—”

“Ew!”

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He says flatly, hands shaking from hunger. “I got it so he has a safe place to transform every full moon.”

“What? Huh, so that's why that branch of the family is so hairy.”

He changes the subject. “What were you thinkin’ with the garlic?” Hobie lays his head right on your shoulder, craning his neck to face you, he uses the closeness to memorize your face. His crimson eyes are dimmer than you're used to.

“I dunno, I thought it was a genius idea back then. Y’know, trap you inside, starve you then when you're weak enough I'd put a stake through your heart.”

“It's a good thing you're bloody fit.” He murmurs, chuckling quietly. “You almost got me though.” Your ears pick up the fatigue in his voice.

“And here I thought you fancy me for my amazing personality.”

“That too.” He smiles weakly, feeling the ache in his bones. “We need to get out of here.” His jaw visibly tightens, wanting to get away from you and your scent. Unfortunately it's not so easy when you're trapped.

“I know,” You sigh, Hobie sits up, covering his ears with the heels of his palms. “You okay?”

“I can hear your blood rushing through your veins.” He bites the inside of his cheeks. “Fuck, we really need to get out of here.” Standing up on wobbly feet, you help him up while the crew stands as far as they can without getting slashed by goblin claws.

“You're hungry.” You state the obvious.

“Starvin’” his red eyes flick down to your neck, already feeling guilty from the simple look.

You swallow thickly. “When was the last time you drank?”

“A couple days ago.” His vision blurs.

“Why are you starving yourself?” Scolding him, you guide him back down on the cold granite. “Hobart.”

“Why do you keep callin' me that?” Cold hands against your own, his eyes zeroes in on your face, avoiding the veins in your neck. “You sound like her when you call me that.”

Your eyes soften, warming him with your palms atop his cheeks, you worry. “You haven't answered my question.”

He groans, head lolling backwards. “Got busy, forgot what day it was.”

“Busy with what?” You click your tongue, lifting his head back up with your hands under his head. You search his hungry eyes, making a decision you could regret in the long run.

“If I let you feed, will you be able to get rid of the goblins?”

That has him picking his head back up, waking him up from his hungry stupor. “What—?”

You reiterate, voice determined. “If I let you drink from me can you get your strength back and get rid of the little fuckers?”

“Y/N, I can't let you do that.”

“I know what happens if you don't feed and judging by how the goblins are devouring your entire house like some frat, they aren't leaving soon enough.” You ball his shirt in your hands for emphasis. “I'm letting you drink, just this one time so we could all go home.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Just don't turn me into your spawn, deal?”

Hobie cracks a smile, fangs glinting off the basement lights. You suddenly feel your nerves kicking in.

“I promise I won't. Just tell me if it gets too much, yeah?”

“Okay,” you inhale deeply, tugging down the collar of your shirt, showing him what he needs. “Don't drink me dry.”

“That depends, for all I know you taste brilliantly.” His joke alleviates your fear a little. You're both unaware of the cameras watching, recording everything. Even forgetting that they were there in the first place.

His hand is on the back of your neck, the other is gripping on to your arm like his life depends on it. Eyeing your skin, lips brushing along it, fangs barely piercing, he gives you enough time to lean away.

“Hurry on with it, I need to pee.”

With a deep chuckle, he sinks his teeth in you.

Gasping, you bite down on your bottom lip, stifling any sounds. But Hobie can hear them from your chest, feel how your body quivers with every suck and nip from his teeth.

You whimper and he holds on to you tighter.

He wants to devour you whole, his instincts tell him to ravage you until you're dry and limp in his arms— to rip you apart with his bare teeth. But he doesn't, he's careful and gentle like he's drinking nectar straight from a flower.

“F-fuck…” you let out, hands shaking, sliding down to the back of his neck, pressing him closer.

He turns warmer with your crimson flowing through him, not letting a single drop of the precious liquid dribble from his mouth.

Hobie feels like his dead heart beats once again after centuries.

Eyes closed, you feel like you're on cloud nine. You look like it too, eyes hazy, lips parted, hand holding on to him weakly.

Before he could drown in you, Hobie carefully eases his teeth out from your pierced skin, maw covered in your blood, thumb pressing down to your wounds to stop the bleeding.

It will scar, but you're alright with that thought.

He feels anew. His eyes are sharper, adrenaline coursing through him like your blood in his system. His ears perked at every breath you let out. Eyes blown up like the size of dinner plates, his warm breath fans your cheeks.

Half of him regrets doing it, now that he has gotten a taste, he can't go back to biting random rich assholes. His other half delights in your after taste, so sweet and nectarine that makes him crave more.

You crane your neck slowly like molasses to look at him sweetly through your half lidded eyes, and a soft yet tired smile on your lips. Still clinging into euphoria, vision swirling and heart beating a thousand times per second. You feel like you've ascended and you'll never go down from it.

Licking his teeth, Hobie resists the urge to dive back in. But he's more than that, you're more than a blood bag.

“You alright?” He whispers, he smells like you.

You hum, smiling giddily like a child who just got what she wanted.

“‘m gonna go and kill some goblins now. Stay here for me?”

You hum a tune that sounds like a rendition of ‘happy birthday.’ Giggling, you pat his cheek.

“Yeah, you'll be alright. I'll get you some orange juice after this.”

“Orange sounds nice… such a pretty color. And cookies, yum.” You chortle like you just heard the best joke. “Oh handsome, so handsome. I'm gonna bite you back one day.” Staring up at him, your eyes roll back, falling unconscious.

“Lookin' forward to it.”

Hobie gently lays you down on the floor, standing up, ears listening to your fast heart beat, but it's not enough proof for him. Eyes observing your chest, watching it go up and down, making sure he didn't go too far. Satisfied, he points at the crew cowering in the corner, their cameras still rolling. The documentary won't air anywhere at this rate.

“Watch her.” He says sternly, eyes glaring.

They all nod frantically.

With a swift kick to the metal door, he strikes down every goblin he sees.

—

You sit on the same patchwork armchair, sipping on a warm cup of tea, comfortable and content in your seat. The two pin prick scars on your neck peeks under your collar. The camera has you in the spotlight, zoomed in on your freshly washed face.

“Do you know about the curse?” The man behind the camera asks, his voice wavering with every word like it's taboo to mention it.

“What curse?” You watch as their faces morph into panic. “I'm fucking with you,” you laugh at their expense.

“Of course I know about it. Why do you think I hunt him down? For fun? Well, partly because of it but we broke that curse like five generations ago when my ancestor figured it all out and made friends with the witch.”

Smiling fondly, you continue. “She's my godmother now. Don't tell him.” You warn. “Hunting him down is an initiation for us really, a tradition to try and kill him, just really doing our best to cause damage. He's pretty powerful.”

Laying your elbows on your knees, you look directly at the camera.

“I mean you've seen the room right? He's fucking obsessed, someone has to off him or just—I honestly think he should just move on.” shrugging you sip your tea that he made for you.

“Is that why you're living with him?” They ask unabashedly. The camera zooms out, showing you still in your pajamas, complete with fluffy slippers.

“Uh—”

Hobie appears in the corner, leaning on the doorway casually, a similar pajama pants hanging low on his hips.

“Darling, have you seen my good jumper—?”

You take your crossbow from under the chair, twisting in your seat, you aim it at his head, shooting, the arrow whizzes past him, he ducks down as the arrow imbeds into the oak.

Hobie laughs on the floor, lifting up a black and red jumper. “Found it!”

“Goddamnit.” The word is laced with endearment. You turn back towards the crew, eyes narrowed at them. “Wait, why are you guys here so early?”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

A/N: Thank you for reading! And happy 1k! 🎉

[derangedangel]

Killer Duo - Isaac Lahey

Summary: Lydia’s throwing a Halloween party and your costume coordinates with Isaac’s

Isaac Lahey x Reader

Word Count: 1,591

Author’s Note: Apparently this was in my drafts in 2019 and I finished it in 2020. Why it never got posted, I’m not sure. The timing of this is funny cause I’m currently at work dressed as the character Isaac is dressed as. Anyway, reblogs and comments are appreciated. Happy Halloween!

“Lydia, I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since I was 12,” you said walking around looking at all the creepy Halloween decorations.

“And this is a costume party. You have to dress up or you can’t go,” Lydia replied walking in front of you heading straight for the costumes. 

“I have no idea what I should be. And most Halloween costumes for women are sexy now, which really means they’re short and inappropriate, and I am not doing that.”

The strawberry blonde rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even looked at any costumes yet and your already jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m just pointing out facts. Halloween used to be fun, then I grew up.”

“And now you’re at the age where you can dress up again,” Lydia smiled at you. “There’s just no candy this time.”

“So what’s the point,” you joked.

“Just come on,” Lydia said grabbing your arm pulling you towards the superhero costumes first. 

The two of you began to look through the racks of clothes. You ran a mental checklist of everything that wouldn’t work for you. 

Batgirl? No.

Iron Man? No.

Elastigirl? Hell no.

“Oh, what about Wonder Woman,” Lydia asked holding up the iconic armor for you to see. 

“Ehh,” you said fidgeting on your feet, “I don’t feel comfortable having my ass out.”

“Okay,” Lydia said sighing at how difficult you were making this. She stood next to you scanning the the other costumes in the superhero section and decided you were going to like any of them.

“What about a witch,” she asked.

“I guess I could be that,” you replied halfheartedly.

“No, I don’t want you buying something you don’t love. That’s the number one rule in fashion.”

“Lydia, why don’t you just look for your costume and I’ll find mines. I don’t want you to keep pulling outfits and I hate them all.”

Lydia turned and faced you. “Honey, I bought my costume weeks ago. No one is going to be wearing the same thing as me at my own party.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Duh, I should have known you already had your costume ready to go.”

“Yes, so this trip is all about you, my dear,” Lydia said tapping you on the nose making you smile. 

“Fine,” you replied. “Well, let’s go look at something a little more spookier then.”

_____________

“Barbie, eat your heart out.”

Lydia walked up behind you in the mirror and nodded. “You look good.”

“I look killer,” you laughed and Lydia smiled shaking her head. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror admiring your white dress, leather jacket, and combat boots. You grabbed your eyeliner pencil and added the final touch. Tiffany’s mole. 

Perfect.

As soon as you saw the Bride of Chucky costume, you knew you needed it. Lydia was just happy you didn’t go with Chucky so you didn’t mess up her bathroom adding all the wounds and fake blood on your face. 

About an hour later, the party was well under way and you already made your first rounds with Lydia. Now she off doing other hostess duties and you were people watching against the wall.

You saw Isaac across the room and smiled to yourself. You excused yourself through the crowd as you made your way across the room.

“Hey, Isaac. Nice costume,” you greeted, looking up at the tall burette in front of you. Well, he wasn’t brunette right now. He was wearing a red wig and a pair of Good Guys overalls. You snickered to yourself. Of course the guy you had a crush on would be dressed up as Chucky. He was basically the salt to your pepper.

“Thanks,” Isaac said, a grin lining his face. “And you are a... biker bride?”

You looked at Isaac confused and shocked. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“What,” Isaac smiled confused at your response. “Should I know who you are?”

“Yes,” you said laughing. You gawked at him as you held up your plastic bloody knife and pointed to your “Tiff” necklace. His eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m Tiffany...”

Isaac shook his head still lost.

“The Bride of Chucky...”

“Sorry. Still don’t know who that is.”

“Oh my God. Isaac, how are you dressed up as Chucky but don’t know who Tiffany is?”

Isaac shrugged. “Honestly, I wasn’t planning on wearing a costume, but Lydia said I had to, then showed up to Scott’s house with this.”

You shook your head, laughing to yourself. “Of course she did.”

“Am I missing something,” Isaac asked wanting in on the joke.

“Lydia knew I was dressing up as Tiffany and she made you be Chucky... we’re basically a couple’s costume.”

“We are,” Isaac asked, his eyebrow raised and smirk slowly growing on his face.

“Uhh, I- I mean sorta,” you replied fidgeting where you stood. “Especially, now when we’re standing next to each other.”

Isaac took a step closer to you. “So I guess I better keep you close then.”

You’re eyes grew big but before you could response you were interrupted. 

“There you two are,” Lydia said walking up to you and Isaac. Her blonde ponytail wig bouncing with each step she took. She definitely was the only I Dream of Jeannie here. You doubted if most of the party even knew who she was, but they all knew she looked good. “Well don’t you look cozy together.”

“Lydia,” you said a little too sweetly for anyone’s liking. “I hear we have you to thank for Isaac’s costume.”

“What,” Lydia asked like she didn’t basically have you and Isaac in a couple’s costume. “I couldn’t have him come to my Halloween party not dressed up.”

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed crossing your arms over your chest.

“Anyway, everyone’s outside so we can take a group pic before anyone is too intoxicated to do it later.” 

“Lydia,” Stiles yelped running up. “Oh, hey guys,” he said waving to you and Isaac. You smiled and waved back before he began talking to Lydia. He was dressed up as Captain Tony Nelson, the perfect couple’s costume to Lydia’s Jeannie. “Um, so, I may or may not have gotten my Captain’s hat stuck on the roof... okay I definitely did. But it was Scott’s fault!”

“Seriously, Stiles,” Lydia fumed. “God,” she whispered under her breath shaking her head before turning to you. “Give it about ten minutes before the picture so I can get his hat down.” 

You laughed nodding your head. “Okay.”

The couple walked away, leaving you alone with Isaac. “Um, I’m going to go get something to drink. See you outside in ten?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, giving you a slow and sexy smile. 

You turned and headed for the kitchen, letting out a long breath as you did. Isaac’s whole existence was driving you crazy. Although you did like the blue eyed boy, and you’ve been wanting something to happen for a while, he was making you incredibly nervous. You’d rather avoid him instead of potential embarrassing yourself. 

After you filled your red solo cup with the fruity punch being served, one of your classmates came up to you.

“Hey Y/N, cute costume.”

“Thanks!”

“I didn’t know you and Isaac were a thing.”

“Huh,” you asked confused.

“The couple’s costume,” they said hesitantly. “Chucky and Tiffany.”

“Ohh, duh” you said to yourself when you realized. “We’re not dating. We just happened to wear costumes that went together.”

“Oh... well, the two of you look good together,” they said shrugging then walked away.

All your friends were already outside ready to take the picture. Lydia handed her phone to the designated photographer, then went to stand next to Stiles. Scott was in the middle, with Kira next to him. Malia was next to Kira, while Stiles and Lydia were on the other side of Scott. You stood next to Malia, throwing your arm over your friend’s shoulder. Isaac stood near Stiles. 

After two pics were snapped, Lydia went to check the photos. She grabbed her phone, then looked up at the group. “Somethings not right...,” she said out loud, thinking to herself. “I know!” She grabbed Isaac by his arm and pulled him over to where you were standing. “That’s better. You’re costumes go together, so it makes sense,” she said smiling. She mumbled a quick you’re welcome to you before she handed the camera back over and went back to her place next to Stiles.

The person taking the pictures counted down “3, 2, 1,” then snapped a pic. But before you got to one, Isaac grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him. You shrieked in response then started laughing. 

“Okay, now a funny one,” Scott yelled so everyone could hear. 

Isaac didn’t hesitate, quickly picking you up bridal style. You yelped, then immediately stuck your tongue out at him. Lydia’s phone flashed as the picture was taken, then everyone stopped doing their poses, but Isaac didn’t put you down.

You giggled before you spoke. “You can put me down now, Isaac. The picture’s over.”

“I said I should keep you close. So that’s what I’m doing,” he said smiling down at you in his arms. “And besides, if we’re next to each other people will think we’re a couple, so no guy will ask you to dance.”

You titled your head to the side, your eyes squinted slightly. “But we’re not a couple.”

“Give it a few weeks.”

Your mouth dropped in a silent gasp, slowly turning into a huge grin. You heard Kira giggling behind you and Stiles’s “yuck.”

[shotmrmiller]

i can‘t find this anywhere but possibly anal…? like you‘re fucking and he unexpectedly does it.

you got it.

1.5k words

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB! Reader

TW: explicit smut, p in v then anal. MDNI 18+ ty

Holding on to the back of his shirt, you bite the inside of your cheek nervously. Now you've done it. You'd been wanting to see just how much of your bratty behavior Simon would tolerate before he snapped— and what better time to test that limit than on a night out with your friends?

Dressed in a little black number that left your back completely exposed and cat eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man, you set out with purpose. You knew he'd be at the bar. Somehow, you'd always see him in the corner of your eye when out at a bar. Maybe it was a complete coincidence, or maybe Simon was keeping an eye on what's his— who knows? All you know is that that's what you're banking on.

Separating from your friends, there's an impish smile on your gloss-covered lips as you let strangers buy you drinks. You force a laugh out at a terrible joke that some nobody says when you feel a burning gaze at the back of your head, sending a prickling sensation curling up your spine. Hook.

The stranger tells another weak joke and you cover your mouth as you laugh, putting your hand on his forearm. Line.

You lean forward, a complete invasion of personal space, with a sultry smile and glittering eyes. The stranger picks up on your mood and lowers his head to get closer to yours. Sinker.

"I'm very sorry for what's about to happen," you murmur.

Before he can even process what you've just said, he's grabbed by his hair and flung to the ground, away from you. You wince at the sound his body makes on impact.

Simon stands with his broad back towards you, looking down at the poor victim of your choice. Lowering down to his haunches, he gives the stranger a real good look at his skull balaclava and grinds out, "That cat there," as he nods in your direction, "is taken."

The man is shaking as he stammers out, "I swear I didn't know! She didn't say anything about—"

Simon cuts him off with a flick of his hand.

"If I catch you anywhere near her again, you'll be digging out your own grave."

With an erratic nod, he drags himself backward, away from the both of you. Standing up, Simon turns to you with an inscrutable look. You just look back up at him doe eyes.

In a sudden movement, he takes his jacket off, wrapping it around your waist, before he picks you up like a sack of rice— tattooed forearm across the back of your now-covered thighs, and storms towards the exit. He opens his truck door and drops you on the leather passenger seat before grabbing your face with an almost painful grip, forcing you to look at him.

"Actions have consequences, pet."

He steps away and slams the door closed.

--

Simon all but drags you into your flat and straight to the bedroom.

"What was that little show today, eh?", he says as he takes off the balaclava before turning to look at you.

"I'm not sure what—" and Simon cuts you off.

"The only time you get to act stupid is when I'm fucking you stupid."

You squeeze your thighs together at his words.

"On the bed then." You turn around and reach up around your neck to undo the strings of your dress when you're pushed harshly, ending up on all fours on the mattress. Pulling your dress over your hips, he slaps one arse cheek before soothing the sting.

"I said on the bed," giving you another sharp slap.

"Do I not give you enough attention?" He strikes the other cheek, then lowers his hand to cup your clothed pussy.

"Do I not give this greedy cunt exactly what it wants?" He slaps it and you whimper— the pained pleasure makes you wet.

"It's clear you need a reminder of who you belong to." He spanks your arse with both hands for a final time before grabbing your ankle and yanking you to the floor.

"On your knees."

Your reaction is visceral and you're kneeling with your mouth open, tongue sticking out and hands clasped behind your back.

"Atta girl," he purred.

Unbuckling his belt, he takes his erection out. A solid 8 inches, deliciously thick and heavy, curved upwards, your mouth waters at the sight. Shuffling closer, you look up at Simon for permission. He nods and you take him in your mouth, tongue stroking the vein on the underside of his cock. You bob your head a couple of times before he stops you with a grip on your hair.

"Say you're sorry," as he pushes your head, and you choke around his manhood.

He reiterates. "Say you're sorry or I don't fuck you. I'm more than happy to shoot my cum down your pretty throat."

You pull away, a string of saliva connecting between your mouth and the tip of his cock.

"M'sorry, Si. I was just," and you give him a cheshire grin, "limit testing."

Simon tsks twice before releasing an exasperated sigh.

"And here I thought you were ready to behave." He pauses to scratch his jaw then firmly grips your upper arm to pick you up and bend you over on the bed once more.

"If you're not going to submit, then I'll just have to fuck you into it."

Pulling the gusset of your knickers to the side, he presses into you. Closing your eyes at the stretch, he gives you just one second for your walls to acclimate before he sets a furious pace. Every thrust punches the air from your lungs and the little grunts Simon lets out tightens the coil in your stomach— making you drip onto the back of your thighs and the front of his. How were you so close already?

Switching up his rhythm, once every few thrusts Simon stops and grinds deep into you— pressing firmly against the entrance of your womb— and it aches. You whine at the discomfort, and he taunts, "What?" and presses his hips flush against your arse, pushing his cock into the depths only he can ever reach, "Is this not what you wanted?" and then he spits into your other hole before pressing his thumb inside slowly, to the knuckle. That almost pushed you over the edge and you're wailing— you feel so full.

"I'm just showing you who," press, "you" press, "belong" press, "to." and with that last grind, you shatter around him. Gummy walls tight around his cock, he continues to fuck you through your orgasm as he pants out, "Like that, baby. Just like that." Not having come down from your high, your mind is so gone that you don't feel when he pulls out before slipping his suddenly lubed-up length into your other hole without warning. Luckily it had been slightly stretched out from him taking you there a couple of days ago, but it still burns at the intrusion, and you hiss loudly.

"Deep breath, baby. Ah— fuck me. You're so tight, you're just about strangling my cock."

He pulls back, watching the ring of muscle pull back with him, and lets out a loud groan at the sight before pushing back in.

"Christ, sweet girl. You're sucking me right in."

He smacks your arse again, leaving behind sticky residue from the lube.

"All of your holes are for me to use as I please, aren't they, pet?" and you can't help but nod dumbly. He could ask you anything and you'd comply right now— he feels incredible inside of you, filling you to the brim.

It felt like he was thrusting into you for hours until he snarled, and with one large hand, pushed your chest flat against the mattress and pinned you down. Hammering into you. Truly fucking you. You're powerless under the weight of his body, feeling sweat drip onto your back. His thrusts send a jolt of pain up your spine from the sheer force of them, and it couldn't be more perfect.

After a dozen thrusts, you squeeze your walls and feel him swell, and with a sensual, loud, moan— he stills. His cock twitches inside of you, coating your insides with his come.

He finally moves, pulling out and you both hiss. Your limbs are heavy with fatigue, unable to move, so Simon grabs you by the shoulder to flip you around and face him. Your half-lidded eyes take in his appearance. Leaning over you, his forehead is dotted with sweat, dripping off his chin, and landing on your collarbone. Cheeks mottled pink and quick, ragged breaths leave his slightly open mouth. His eyes though— they're clear, staring right at you, adoring. He lowers his head and purposefully bumps your nose with his before slanting his mouth over yours, kissing you languid and soft. It's moments like this that are your favorite. He fucks you like he hates you but is so delicate with the aftercare that it makes your eyes sting with tears.

With one last kiss, he slowly gets you in a seated position before putting one arm under your knees and the other behind your back— carrying you to the bathroom.

"Let's get you in the bath, love. I'll make us some tea."

A/N: Do NOT do what was done here. If it's goin in the backdoor, you absolutely use a condom. It is not safe. UTI's are painful and it's almost a guarantee that it'll happen if not protected. And you should NEVER just full thrust into someone’s back door hole. Because you can and probably will causing tearing there. It can happen. Genuinely be safe between you and your partner.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Neighbor AU - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 351

His mother had drilled it into him since childhood: always greet your new neighbors.

Of course, Remus turned out to be a grumpy, introverted twenty-something with the personality of an elderly old man but he still stuck to Hope's advice. So, every time someone new moved in nearby, he plastered a smile on his face and arranged a plate of cookies, hoping against hope (ha!) that the newest neighbors weren't chatty people.

They usually were. That was the type of place he lived in: everyone wanted to know everyone's business, and everyone was just a bit too friendly. So when someone move into the flat next door to him, he mentally prepared himself for an hour-long conversation about Mrs. Next-Door's kids and Mr. Down-The-Hall's door decorations, cursing the building for being so transient.

But when he knocked on the door of Apartment 208, he almost dropped the tray he was holding.

This neighbor was not the norm. He was Remus's age, with a leather jacket and a ripped band tee, long hair that made Remus want to grab at it a bit and streaks of eyeliner under his eyes that made him look sort of...punk.

God, he looked lovely.

"Cookies?" The man asked, blinking down at the tray Remus held loosely. "Are you part of the greeting committee or something? That lady down the hall already tried to get my whole life story."

Hardly able to help himself, Remus snorted. "That's Mrs. Nelly, she's a gossip. I hope you didn't tell her a word."

But the other man grinned mischievously. "Oh, I did. It was all lies. She thinks I'm a prostitute from Las Vegas. I've never seen anyone leave so fast."

Remus let out a bubble of laughter. "Well, all the ladies on this hall love to gossip with me, so I happen to know that her son ran off with his wife's sister last month."

"No shit!" The man grinned. "I'm Sirius. Come in and tell me more?"

And for the first time, Remus wasn't dreading the possibility that this get-to-know-you conversation might take up his entire afternoon.

[hearts4golbach]

Hii could you please write a Johnnie Guilbert x fem reader where they meet at a club and just get along really well then Johnnie takes the reader home and they cuddle.

At First Sight.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Singer!Reader.

a/n: wrote this while watching fellas big titty minecraft mod stream. i hope that says a lot about my persona.

"it's okay, y/n. just shake it out. ready?" your lead guitarist whispered to you. you nodded, proceeding to follow his lead. you shook out all your limbs, counting down from 5, to 4, to 3, to 2, and ending with one.

he looked at you and raised his eyebrow. "alright, let's do this."

you and your band had finally made it out of the garage. you were playing in downtown LA at a bar/club. you took one final deep breath before walking out onto the stage.

those who were sitting and watching clapped, cheering for every one of you as you strutted to your designated spots. "how's everybody doing tonight?" you questioned as the applause subsided. some people cheered, while others shouted a response. "that's good to hear! we're a local band called (band name), and we're so happy to be performing for you tonight! our first song is called (song name). i wrote this song whenever i was going through a really rough time, and it got me through that dark place. i hope you all like it!" i started to get insecure, feeling as if i was talking too much.

you made it through your first song easily, as if you had done this a million times before. you looked through the crowd, making sure to take in the sincere looks on everyone's face. one person caught your eye. he was sitting with two people, a man and a woman. he had raven colored hair that was parted to the side. he had smudged eyeshadow and eyeliner that accentuated his bright blue eyes. he gave you a small wave. you felt your face heat up as you shot him a smile and a wave. you thought he noticed you were staring. you couldn't help but keep glancing at him.

you ended the song, causing the growing crowd to erupt in applause. the guy cheered for you as well, whistling and clapping a little louder than everyone else. everyone in your band stood up and took a bow, knowing each group performing tonight could only perform one song. you waved goodbye to everyone before walking off of stage, followed by the rest of your band.

"holy shit, y/n! i dare say that was better than we've ever done during our garage concerts!" your drummer hugged you tight. you squeezed her back, thanking her endlessly.

"how are you guys feeling? our first real concert?! i'm so proud of you guys." you congratulated everyone as you all began to pack up. you were tired and ready for a drink. you and the gang had spent all day rehearsing this one song so there wouldn't be room for mistakes. it was worth it, but damn.

you packed your microphone up and brought it out to the van. you said goodnight to all of the members, since they decided to just go home instead of staying. you weren't planning on staying long, though. you were planning on calling an uber after a few drinks.

deep down, you were hoping that cute boy from the audience would come find you. you walked out from backstage, heading straight towards the bar. you ordered your usual, jack and coke. you sipped on it while watching other performers from the bar.

"hey, i really liked the performance." a kind, deep voice called from the left side of you.

you turned to come face to face with the guy that hadn't left your mind. now, you could make out his piercings and tattoos that you couldn't see through the bright headlights. you took in every inch of him from his shoes to the very top of his teased hair. he was wearing black boots with casual ripped, black skinny jeans. he also wore a my chemical romance shirt with a leopard print leather jacket over top. you thought all of his visible tattoos were cute, and wanted to see more. he looked like someone that wouldn't be caught dead without jewelry. he had red and black eye shadow smudged all over his eye, as well as squiggles trailing down to his cheek.

"hi, thank you so much. that was our very first live performance. i'm glad you liked it." you over explained, your only goal being to talk to him more.

"really? damn, you're a fucking natural." he smiled, climbing into the seat next to you and ordered. "can i have another long island and one of what she's having?"

the bartender nodded before turning away to make the drinks. "i try," you laughed, "to be fair, we've been working on that one song all damn day." you finished off your drink and set it on the counter. "by the way, i'm y/n."

the man shook your hand, "Im Johnnie. it's really nice to meet you." it felt as if sparks were flying whenever the two of you touched.

you smiled, "it's nice to meet you, too." Johnnie set your drink in front of you. "oh, thank you."

"you said you wrote that song whenever you were having a rough time?" he took a sip of his drink, looking at you over the glass. you nodded. "those lyrics were fucking great, i really like the way you think about shit. or, at least from what i've head." he back tracked.

you were taken aback from the compliment. your face flushed. "wow, i don't know what to say. thank you." you couldn't help but smile at him. you pointed at his shirt, "you know, MCR is one of my biggest inspirations."

his grin grew, "no shit, me too."

"you make music?!" your smile grows as well. you begin to like Johnnie the more you learn about him. he nodded in response. you quickly pulled out your phone and opened up spotify. "can i see?"

"of course." he smiled, taking the phone out of your hand and typing in 'Johnnie Guilbert.'

your jaw dropped as you noticed how many followers he had. "holy shit, you're huge." he blushed, not knowing how to respond. "i'll definitely be checking your shit out whenever i get the chance."

"that means a lot coming from someone someone talented as fuck." he patted your knee, sending chills down your spine.

"oh, shut up. as if you're not? look at you!" you pointed at his followers again.

"fair enough," he gave in. "maybe we should write a song together." he finished off the last of his drink before ordering another.

your jaw dropped, "that's the best idea i've ever heard."

"can i get your number?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to overstep.

you rolled your eyes. "obviously," you took his phone and entered your number, setting up your contact before texting yourself. "there. i noticed you in the crowd, where are the people you were sitting with?"

"they're out in the floor dancing or something, i told them i was going to try and find you." he shoved his phone in his pocket before glancing over to the dance floor.

"oh, okay. can i ask you a question?" you sip your drink.

"anything."

"why were you looking for me?" you were simply curious. but, you wondered if he had a deeper interest in you as you did him.

"i thought you were gorgeous. you just seemed like my kind of girl." he sighed, his drink was almost gone at this point. "honestly, i'm the most fucking anti social person you'll ever meet. i felt like if i didn't come talk to you i'd be making a huge mistake, so i kind of pushed myself out of that box." your heart melted, and it showed on your face. "what?" he laughed.

"i can just tell you're such an amazing fucking person. you really know how to talk to me, even though you claim to be an introvert." you tease, rubbing his arm.

the blush on his face grew darker. "i'm getting tired. I'm thinking about ordering an uber home." he seemed to hesitate for a moment before finishing his thought. "do you wanna come with?"

you agreed without hesitation. the alcohol was clearly getting to both of you, but neither of you cared. he carefully intertwined his fingers with yours. it was far from awkward between you and Johnnie. you stood outside with him, the warm summer breeze refreshing compared to the stuffy club.

"there's this ukulele i've had for as long as i can remember. i've been writing songs on it also for as long as i can remember. music has been my passion my whole life." you rambled because Johnnie wanted to listen. "i've always dreamt of being up on stage, and now i'm finally climbing my way up."

"damn, i'm really proud of you, y/n. i know it's a huge step to be performing in front of strangers." Johnnie lit a cigarette, hitting it once before offering it to me. "do you smoke?"

"mhm," you hummed, taking the cig with your free hand. you took a long drag, staring off into the distance as you exhaled a large cloud of smoke. the nicotine buzz hit you, increasing the feeling of the alcohol in your system. "i know, i couldn't have gotten to where i am now without my best friends. the people in my band are the ones who really motivated me to actually get out there, you know?" he nodded.

the uber pulled up less than 30 seconds later. you crawled in the back with Johnnie. he gave his address to the driver. you leaned your head on his shoulder, the drowsiness wanting to take over. "do you think this is weird?" he giggled, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"do i think what's weird?" you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

"that we met less than an hour ago and.." he gestured down towards me. "i don't know. i don't think it's weird." he began to back himself up.

"i think i've heard weirder happen. i already really like you, and we've just met. i don't find that weird." you comforted him, caressing his arm gently.

he leaned his head on top of yours, "I'm glad, cause me too. I'm glad this isn't one sided."

you blinked and suddenly the uber driver was parked right outside of Johnnies house. unsurprisingly, it was an extremely nice home. Johnnie gently shook your shoulder, informing you you were at his house. he helped you climb out of the car before leading you up to the front door.

"your house is so fucking nice." you mention as you wait for him to let you inside.

"thank you, i have 2 roommates, so this isn't just my house." he admitted, opening the front door. "do you need anything to drink?" he was beginning to noticeably slur his words.

"no, i'm okay. thank you. i'm just ready to sleep, to be honest." you rubbed your eye as you leaned against the counter.

Johnnie grabbed a bottled water out of the fridge and cracked it open. "well, i'm glad we're on the same page." he chugged the water before leading you up to his room.

his room was fairly empty. there was a closet, but the door was closed. he had a computer set up on one side of the room and a neatly made bed on the other. the window was covered by dark black curtains and the desk was covered in makeup. he had a few stray cameras laying around on a side table, as well.

"i take it you do more than just make music." you mention, taking a seat next to Johnnie on his bed.

"uh, yeah," he scratched his neck, "i do youtube, too. and stream. i do it all, really."

"somebody seems busy as fuck," you yawned.

he let a small smile show on his face, "maybe a little. are you staying the night with me." you nodded in response, making sure he wanted you to, as well. "good. do you want something to change into, your concert outfit doesn't look very comfy."

before you could deny or accept, he was tossing you pajama pants and a t shirt out of his closet. you thanked him. "you are one of the sweetest people i've ever met, do you know that?"

"i think it's just the alcohol talking," he laughed, changing into pajama pants himself. you shook your head vigorously.

he laid down, not taking his time before pulling you up close to him. you took in the new scents on johnnies skin, making sure to take a mental note of every one of them. you buried your head in his chest as you draped your arm over him. he had one arm a wrapped around your back while the other hand was running through your hair. you quickly let yourself fall asleep. Johnnie comforted you in a way no one ever had before. you began to think you could get used to Johnnie being around.

[tryingtograspctrl]

LIFT ME UP: KLAUS HARGREEVES X BLACK PLUS SIZE READER

SUMMARY: When everyone else had given up on him you were there, always willing to pick up the pieces and put him back together again, no matter how many times he fell apart.

Warning: Mentions of drug use, mentions of abuse and trauma, mentions of withdrawal. 18+ only, read at your own risk. Minors DO NOT INTERACT!

Note: Season 1 & 3 Klaus. Also the relationship between him and the reader is completely platonic.

Flashback

You wiped your hands off on your apron, grabbing the empty cardboard boxes and tin cans, heading out the backdoor toward the dumpster.

"Ouch!" A voice yelped from inside as you threw the trash into the bin.

"Oh my god is someone in there?" You stood on your tippy toes peeking inside.

"Don't mind me just fetching dinner." A man popped his head out.

"Well you don't have to dig through the trash for scraps, come inside and i'll cook you a meal, on the house." You gave him a gentle smile extending your hand for him to take.

His eyes lit up and he gladly accepted it, jumping out of the dumpster with your assistance and dusting off his skirt.

"What's your name?" You looked back at him now getting a good look at his face and attire.

He had a head full of messy brown hair, black eyeliner smudged around his light green eyes and he wore a black leather jacket with no shirt underneath, definitely not an appropriate outfit for the cold rainy weather outside.

"Klaus, yours?" He asked walking over to the island inside the small dinner, plopping down on one of the stools.

"Y/n." You answered as you whisked a bowl of eggs.

"Wanna tell me why you're dumpster diving for food?" You quirked a brow sliding him his plate and a fork.

"Long story dear, wouldn't want to bore you." He waved a hand dismissively, stuffing his mouth with pancakes.

"I've got all day." You shrugged.

He went into detail about his odd family dynamic, his experience with his powers and training growing up and how we dealt with it in his adulthood, using every drug under the sun to quiet the spirits, bouncing in and out of rehab.

“You got a place to sleep tonight?” You asked.

“Not any that i can think of at the moment but i’m sure there’s a nice cardboard box in a dark alley calling my name, though i usually prefer a tent, extra coverage and all you know.” He sighed popping a piece of bacon in his mouth.

“Stay with me.” You offered.

“What?” He sat up straight.

“Stay with me, i have a pullout couch in my living room, you can sleep there.” You insisted.

He smiled brightly planting a wet kiss on your cheek.

You had gotten used to him coming and going, that’s just how Klaus was, he could never sit still. Every other week he’d stumbled into your apartment either high out of his mind or suffering from withdrawals, whichever condition he was in you did your best to come to his aid, patching up his bumps and bruises, making sure he was well fed, dressing him in clean clothes to wear before he vanished again.

Dealing with an addict was no walk in the park, it was exhausting, emotionally draining, a roller coaster of emotions actually but you did your best to be patient with him. He had dealt with a lot in his childhood, he still dealt with a lot and you didn’t want to give up on him, you couldn’t. You’d grown to care for him a lot over the past few months and you’d never be able to live with yourself if something happened to him, no matter how stubborn he could be, no matter how reckless the decisions he made were you’d never turn you back on him and you made sure that he knew he always had a home to come back to as long as you were around.

One night the sound of glass shattering made you jolt awake.

You stumbled to the kitchen, still half asleep, eyes adjusting to the bright lights.

Klaus was on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest, sobbing and rocking back and forth, attempting to self soothe.

You stepped over the glass shards, crouching down in front of him and pulling him to his feet.

You led him to the couch, laying him down and sitting beside him.

“I’m sorry i- i just wanted something to drink.” He spoke between sobs, resting his head on your lap.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’ll clean up the mess and get you something to drink okay?” You whispered.

He nodded his head, sitting up so you could go to the kitchen.

You quickly discarded the broken glass and grabbed a new cup, pouring him some cold water.

He chugged it, placing the empty cup on the coffee table and snuggling into your side, face buried in your plush stomach.

“Are they loud?” You asked petting his hair.

You knew how unbearable the spirits could be, their shouting overwhelming his senses.

“Yes, always.” He sniffled.

“Try to focus on the sound of my voice. I’ll do my best to help you drown them out.” You grabbed his chin lifting his face, wiping a few stray tears.

You began singing an old lullaby that your grandmother used to sing to you when you were little, it knocked you out cold every single time.

You felt Klaus relax against you, sighing in relief as your voice filled his ears. You were no Beyonce but you helped soothe him nonetheless.

You kissed the top of his head as he drifted off to sleep, draping a blanket over the two of you.

That was the last time you saw him.

Present

Klaus sighed in relief as he stood in front of hotel oblivion, after what felt like years of turmoil in the 60s they were finally back to the future (pun intended), and he couldn’t be happier.

He leaned against the bar, sipping his whisky as his siblings bickered with each other, only half listening.

His mind kept drifting to you, someone he missed most while he was stuck in the 60’s.

All those nights you held him close, cradled him like a newborn baby as he broke down on your couch.

All those times you looked into alternatives to drugs to help him quiet the spirits, suggesting meditation or yoga, something relaxing to help him focus in order to make them go away whenever he pleased, turn them on and off like a light switch.

Whenever he hit rock bottom you didn’t hesitate to pick him up, to catch him when he fell.

He knew he had to find you.

“Hey where are you going? Now’s not the time to be splitting up Klaus!” Allison called after him.

He ignored her, mentally mapping out the way to your apartment.

“Let him be.” Vicktor grabbed her wrist just before she could chase him.

She deflated downing the rest of her drink.

Klaus stood across the street from your apartment building taking deep breaths, he laughed at his own anxiety. Was he really that nervous to face you again?

His eyes drifted to a girl walking down the sidewalk, arms full of grocery bags.

His breath caught in his throat as he studied her facial features.

It was you.

He practically sprinted across the street placing a hand on your shoulder once he reached you.

“AHH I DONT HAVE ANY MONEY.” You shouted dropping a few bags as you whipped around.

“Klaus?” Your eyes widened in surprise.

“In the fle- oh!” The wind was knocked out of him as you smothered him in a hug.

“You’re here, you’re alive.” You held his face in your hands, tears brimming your eyes.

“I’m alive.” He chuckled relaxing in your hold.

He helped you gather up your groceries, taking them upstairs to your apartment.

You insisted that he stay for dinner, chatting and catching up as you prepped the food.

“You started a cult?” You stared at him in disbelief.

“It was the 60s babe, everyone did.” He shrugged.

You snorted tossing the onions into the searing hot pan.

You stirred them around with your spoon, pausing for a moment.

“You look better… healthy. I’m glad.” You turned, smiling softly at him.

“Me too, me too.” He smiled as well.

For a moment he forgot all his worries, forgot about the events of the 60s, forgot about the sparrows, the apocalypse, everything. He was content with watching the world burn as long as he was here, with you, his solace.

A/N - I feel like i’ve been writing so much smut lately and i really wanted a change of pace, i’ve also been planning on expanding my master list and writing for some other fandoms im apart of. I absolutely adore Klaus and i really enjoyed writing this. Since Steve Blackman didn’t give his character the love and support he so desperately needed and deserved i will. This has not been proofread so please excuse any mistakes, i will fix them later. I hope you guys like this! 🌻

[meowpupp]

FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

simon riely x chubby!reader

tw// slight blood play (nothing extreme,) possessiveness, HEAPS of praise

simon who is just so utterly obsessed with you. with owning you, fucking you, with being yours. 

he’s infamous, everyone knows who he is. he doesn’t flaunt his strength or outwardly display just how vicious he is, but it’s hard for rumours not to spread if each time a man looks at you he beats them an inch within their life. 

but no matter how bloody and bruised he gets, you’re always there. you sit him down on the edge of the bathtub, careful hands disinfecting his wounds. 

another night at a club leads you here. everyone in the area knows you’re simon’s girl, but some still can’t resist getting handsy. but simon was always there, watching, waiting, ready to put a man back into their place. 

there’s a sick type of joy he gets from ‘protecting’ you, as he puts it. hes a feral mutt, born to bite, and you are the only soft thing he’s ever had. it’s no wonder he snarls when something even remotely threatens you. 

but no matter how mean he is to others, he is always, always, soft for you. just for you. he watches with half-lidded eyes as you bandage his knuckles. kissing over each one, its like you aim to take away the pain. this is familiar. this is comfortable. this is love. 

he pulls his big hand from yours, giving you the other one. his knuckles are split and bruised, an angry red and purple colour. “you’re too sweet f’me lovie.” his voice is slightly slurred, a testament to the alcohol he’s drank. you can smell it when he speaks. a mix of bourbon and cigarettes. its somehow addicting, just like everything else about him. 

you just tut, rolling your eyes as you work on his hand. “someone has to be.” he huffs out a laugh, averting his eyes from you.

soon enough they’re both fixed. you kiss his palms once more for good luck, giggling as he raises an eyebrow. he gives you a smirk, something about it sends a shiver through your body. his split lip and black eye give him an air of something dangerous. you should leave, run, and never speak to him again. but just like eve, you bite. 

his hands move to your hips, gripping and squeezing the fat. he watches the way it bulges between the gaps of his fingers. a low groan rips from his throat, pulling you forward till you sit in his lap. 

his hands are warm as they slide up your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles on your sternum. “such a pretty fuckin girl.” he growls, his eyes half-lidded and heated as they trail your body. the curves of your hips, your soft tummy, the way your thighs splay around his waist. it’s a dangerous mix, one that makes his cock strain in his pants. 

“you’re so good t’me,” he leans forward, kissing up your neck, “my good girl.” his stubble brushes against your skin as he speaks, causing shivers to shoot up your spine. your thighs clench around his waist, and he laughs. it’s low, tempting and arrogant. he’s everything your parents told you to stay away from, and yet you can’t help yourself. 

in another life, simon would be the symbol of saints. sandy blonde hair, pale skin, and dark chocolate eyes. his lips are pale pink, his eyelashes long. everything about him is a stereotypical representation of purity. he looks like an angel, one worthy of a gods favouritism. 

but that isn’t this life. your simon is pierced, his right eyebrow and tongue shining with metal. your simon wears smudged eyeliner and leather jackets. he drives too fast and smokes daily. your simon easily surrenders to sin, his biggest temptation being you. 

and so, he can’t help but give in. 

his lips crash against yours, devouring you. he takes and takes and takes, demanding every ounce of your being. his tongue piercing never fails to make you moan. the metal is cool despite how hot and needy the kiss is. your hands cup his jaw, denying him an inch of space away from you. not that he’d ever take it. 

one of his hands drops to your hip, nails digging in. he guides them, setting a slow rhythm as you grind against him. the zipper of his jeans nudges your clit just right, sending shockwaves through your body. 

neither of you speak, completely lost in each other. the moans and groans from you both fill the room. his hands are greedy, groping any inch of your skin he can. his lips pull from yours, only to trail hot kisses down your throat. he bites and sucks at the delicate skin. a deep groan rips from his throat as he tastes iron, staining his lips red. he bucks up into you, a silent command for you to grind faster. 

you pant into his ear, arms wrapping around his body. your nails scratch at his back, the sensation sending shocks of white-hot pleasure through his body. he groans, eyes squeezing shut. this must be heaven. nothing else could ever feel as good as you. 

simon pulls back, lips and chin smeared with your blood. he smirks up at you, the red liquid staining his teeth. he looks feral, like an animal devouring prey. his eyes scan up and down your body. the way your cheeks flush, how your chest heaves, the way your hips roll. he wants to consume you, to devour every fibre of your being and keep it to himself. no one else should ever get the privilege of touching you like this. simon may not be your first, but he will be your last. he wont have it any other way. 

your eyes are half-lidded, a look simon adores. you look so pretty, lips parted as you whine, neck marked up, back arched. his hands settle on your waist, guiding you to move faster, harder. “cmon lovie, want you t’stain my fuckin jeans.” his hips buck up into you, the button of his jeans pressing against your clit. he grins as you whine, back arching, face contorting in pleasure. 

your hands claw at his jaw, pulling him forward. his lips crash into yours again. you can taste your own blood, only making your clit throb. he groans deep in his chest, cock twitching. 

his hands move, pushing your shirt up. he takes a moment to watch your tits, the way they move as your chest heaves. he gropes the soft fat, pinching and rolling your nipples. simon kisses you once again, swallowing every needy whine like a starved man. 

“cmon baby, give it to me,” his lips brush yours as he speaks, the hand on your chest trailing up to your neck, squeezing, “cum f’me, cum f’me pretty girl.” 

he grins as you tense, moaning loudly and clinging to him as you finish. his arms wrap around you, lips brushing your ear as he talks you through your orgasm, his following soon after. 

“good fuckin girl. so perfect, so fuckin obedient,” he grips your jaw, forcing your fucked out gaze to meet his, “how bout i give you some really dick, hm? a nice thank you for bein so good to me.” he smirks, almost laughing as you nod. 

[inkdrinkerworld]

sirius with a real cottage core girl

like he gives her his leather jacket when she’s cold and it doesn’t go with her long white skirt whatsoever but she loves it

nd everyone always thinks the opposite looks are so cute

ohh this is giving me rockstar!sirius vibes!!

you’d triple checked the weather app before settling on your outfit to go watch sirius’ home gig.

a long white floral skirt and a baby tee of his band’s logo. practical, rock but still very you- especially when you found a way to work in the ribbon in your hair.

the show was amazing like it always is- sirius was born to entertain and when it was done and you met him backstage he was buzzing.

“you were amazing,” you compliment, stamping a kiss to his sweaty cheek.

he pulls you a little closer and kisses your lips,“you were in the crowd, had to be,” he flirts and you roll your eyes. “gimme ten minutes to shower and we can go for dinner?”

you nod, chatting with james and remus who are equally as sweaty as your boyfriend.

true to his word, sirius steps out ten minutes later a lot less sweaty but a lot prettier.

his hair is tied back in a low bun, he’s got less glittery eyeliner on his cheeks and more on his lower lash line and his signature black leather jacket that ties everything together.

“c’mon dolly,” his rings are cold as his fingers link with yours.

“which song was your favourite?” sirius asks and you laugh, bumping his hip with your own.

conversation is easy and fun and though the walk to your favourite dim sum place isn’t far, as the night rolls on, the air gets nippier and has goosebumps raising on your arms.

“here pretty girl,” he shakes his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders, transferring his warmth and his clove and peach scent to you.

“i bet this looks ridiculous.” you say smiling and sirius shakes his head.

“nah, you look gorgeous,” he fishes his phone from his back pocket. “stand still a minute, doll.”

he snaps a couple photos standing up and then squats down to ‘get your angles.’ your giggles as you pose makes sirius’ heart flutter- he wants to get it on record one day to use in a song.

“that’s new wallpaper material, that is.” he kisses your temple before linking your fingers again, not letting you see the photos.

“you’re real lovesick for a rock band man,” you tease and sirius fake gags, dropping your hand with a dramatized,

“uck! girl cooties,” which makes you both cackle in the street as you reach your dinner for the night.

[bruh-changbin]

love and leather

pairing: bad boy changbin! x afab reader

genre: smut

warnings: use of handcuffs, piv, exhibitionism, fingering (f receiving), some smoochin', alcohol consumption, cigarette smoking, an icky man being kinda icky, i think that's all

word count: 3.4K

a/n: before y’all say anything i knowwww this is short but y'all i'm busy and fuck in my last semester of uni and i kinda need to prioritize that a bit more 😭 buuuuut on the flip side i am slowly but surely making progress on some longer fun things so keep your eyes peeled 🫶 this fic is basically a love letter to bad boy eyeliner bin *sigh* when will he return from war..... also lowkey a continuation of under the bleachers but also not really.... no real plot just smutty bc i've been super horknee lately lawl enjoy

————

seo changbin likes a lot of things.

he likes eyeliner and smoking cigarettes and hard sex. he likes going fast on his motorcycle and he likes his tattered leather jacket. he likes getting piercings with silver jewelry and he likes pretending that the taste of tequila doesn’t affect him.

but above all, he likes you.

he likes your pretty teeth and the curve of your neck. he likes the leather platform boots you bought to try to impress him. he likes the smell of your shampoo that’s now permanently interwoven into the fabric of his pillow.

he likes it when you cry when you cum and when you dig your teeth into his shoulder as he fucks you. he likes the way your speech becomes slurred after he’s given you countless mind-blowing orgasms.

he likes to be in control. but not in a weird, lowkey misogynistic way. more in a ‘i’m gonna fuck you so hard and act cold so we both feel good and then kiss away your tears because i love you more than anything else’ kind of way, you know? that’s why handcuffs are such a staple in your relationship.

you remember the first time he used those cold, metal cuffs on you.

it was after a halloween party and changbin was dressed up as, you guessed it, a police officer. the party was fun at first but soon grew to be quite boring. when changbin started to get a little too handsy was when you decided to call it a night. the cab ride back to your apartment was excruciatingly long and when you arrived you unlocked your door with trembling, sweaty hands.

no words needed to be exchanged for you to know to get onto your mattress on your stomach, hands behind your back where changbin cuffed them in place with a satisfying metallic click! 

his movements were painstakingly slow, removing and discarding your bottoms and costume at a torturous pace to tease you (for what you have no idea - your costume wasn’t even that revealing). you could feel the tip of his nose tracing the skin in between your shoulder blades before he fucked you from behind, his blunt nails digging into your hips and he gripped you like he was never gonna let go. all you could do was cry and drool into your bedding as your boyfriend brought you to orgasm so many times your legs felt like tv static.  

every time you tried to move, tried to find solace and stability by gripping the duvet underneath you, you were reminded of the cuffs that were binding your wrists together. changbin would chuckle every time he heard them clink and jingle, knowing he had complete and utter control over you. if anything it added fuel to his fire, resulting in him thrusting his cock into you in such a way that made it feel as if he was so deep inside of you that the two of you would forever be connected.

when he finally relented and unlocked you, your wrists were bruised and throbbing - it felt amazing. 

the stinging of your wrists coupled with the pulsing of your abused cunt had you passing out on changbin’s broad chest in minutes and falling into one of the deepest sleeps you had ever experienced. 

but of course, come morning time, he treated you as if you were royalty and kissed the marks that his handcuffs left on you with so much delicacy you thought you were going to turn into a puddle. 

unbeknownst to the outside world, seo changbin has a soft side; which you discovered the first time he brought you into his room and had forgotten to hide his munchlax plushie beforehand. watching him scramble to hide it under his bed made the situation 10 times worse, and all he could do was scratch the back of his neck sheepishly as you attempted to stifle your laugh.

once the two of you became, you know, official, he let this side of him shine through more often. 

at times he treats you as if you’re made of porcelain, as if you’ll crack and break at even the slightest touches - hence the way he traces the back of your hand with his thumb when you’re holding hands, his strokes akin to that of a feather.

you’ve lost track of the amount of times he’s almost burnt your kitchen down while attempting to make you breakfast after making love to you for hours on end the night before. it always ends the same, with changbin holding a plate of toast so burnt it's turned into bedrock and scrambled eggs you could bounce off the wall because of how rubbery they are. the result is always changbin dragging you to your favourite cafe for brunch in defeat, claiming that ‘it’s the thought that counts, y/n’. 

but only you have the privilege of seeing him like this. these small, tender moments reserved only for the two of you in private, away from the curious eyes of onlookers in public. 

on the days where both of you are lucky enough to not have to pull yourself out of bed early for the sake of attending a lecture or getting work done, you get to revel in the warmth provided by each other’s sleeping bodies. if you wake before changbin, you’re greeted with a view of his broad shoulders, his skin dotted with small imperfections and the bumps of his individual vertebrae visible. small, soft snores can be heard escaping his parted lips. if changbin wakes before you do… he never does.

sometimes you’re able to spend the whole entire day together without having to tend to other duties. these days usually entail slow, lazy starts to the day followed by changbin dragging you to the gym to watch him do lat pulldowns and cable rows followed by a shared shower where you help massage shampoo into his scalp. or, it could involve the two of you screaming at the tv as you battle over the top spot in mario kart 8 - changbin mains bowser, of course, whereas you opt to play as king boo. it takes almost all of your strength to avoid whipping your remote at the wall when he absolutely clobbers you during grumble volcano. 

“don’t be upset y/n,” he coos without fail, “i’ll make it up to you later tonight!”

and he always does.

in public, he’s brooding, mysterious, sexy. it’s rare to see him without a cocky smirk painted across his face, his puffed lips quirked upwards as if to say ‘i’m better than you’ to anyone who crosses his path. and it’s true, he is.

he’s also the type to get jealous very easily.

case in point: 

it’s friday night, and the two of you are perusing the city streets looking for some fun. earlier in the day, jisung had informed you that a small group of friends was planning on paying a visit to a well loved bar to get sloshed later that night. with nothing better to do, you and changbin accepted the invitation.

at first it was fun, with everyone reconnecting and catching eachother up on the current drama in their lives. but after an hour or two the vibe changed and the atmosphere became almost… cliquey. everyone had chosen their respective person or group for the night, choosing to only converse within their little bubble and never straying from it. this resulted in you and changbin fleeing the scene, opting to enjoy yourselves elsewhere where you can get lost in the music and each other… and alcohol. 

soon after you’re at the front of a line for some club you’ve never been to with changbin’s arm wrapped around your waist as the bouncer checks your i.d. you’re let in with a nonchalant wave of a hand, and changbin follows shortly after.

once inside you make your way up the stairs to where the crowd is, choosing to forgo coat check and instead tossing your jackets on top of a pile that has formed on one of the few tables lining the walls near the entrance. then, you make a beeline to the bar where you order yourself a vodka cran and changbin a heineken. 

with alcohol in hand you shove your way to the middle of the dance floor, getting lost in the club music while bumping and grinding on your boyfriend who’s posted up behind you. you’re not sure how much time you spend on the dancefloor with warm cheeks and limbs that have gone fuzzy, but it feels as if time itself has come to a momentary halt, allowing you to enjoy yourself in this moment while the world continues on outside without you. 

so, when changbin taps your shoulder and motions to the bar to wordlessly say ‘i’m going to get more drinks’ you only nod and continue to dance on your own while you wait for his return. 

this decision proves to be fatal however, for only moments after changbin’s departure you feel a clammy hand wrap around your bicep. you whip around only to find yourself face to face with some random man wearing a nike tracksuit ogling at you like you’re the last piece of his favourite candy at the candy store. gross. 

“sorry, are you trying to get past me?”

“nah i’m trying to get with you, ma,” he practically yells into your ear in order to be heard over the music.

“oh! no thanks, my boyfriend’s at the bar getting drinks,” you say and attempt to shuffle away, an action that proves to be harder than you thought due to the mass of people surrounding you.

much to your dismay, the man persists, “boyfriend? why’d he leave you here all alone?”

“... to get us drinks.”

“well, if i was your man i’d never leave you alone, princess.”

princess? gross. only changbin gets to call you that… when he’s fucking you.

“is everything okay, y/n?” you feel an arm nudge yours and turn around to see changbin, your knight in shining armour, who’s come to save you from this god awkward conversation. in each hold he hands a drink, one for you and one for himself, and you fear what he may do with them in the next few moments.

“yea, all good, this guy was just being… weird,” 

the skepticism that was previously evident on changbin’s face quickly morphs into annoyance (and jealousy at the prospect of someone other than himself making moves on you). without speaking he shoves the recently acquired drinks into your hands - making you scramble to stop yourself from dropping them and creating a sticky, syrupy mess all over the dance floor - before moving to size up the ‘bro’ that was just hitting on you with his chest puffed and chin held high. 

not wanting to get into any sort of trouble tonight, you practically throw yourself in front of the freight train that is your boyfriend.

“no! it’s fine, changbin, let’s just forget him and have a good time, ‘kay?” you attempt to reason with him to no avail. all changbin does is shift his gaze between you and the guy who was making moves on you several times before wordlessly grasping your arm and pulling you towards the exit; you’re forced to abandon the dripping drinks in your hands on the edge of the bar (not before you manage to spill about half of one all over your lower arm).

soon you’re out of the crowded space, and are making your way towards the exit of the building and the city streets that are surely still teeming with nightlife.

“bin-” 

“we’re going home,” he asserts, “i don’t want anyone talking to you like that.”

all you can do is allow yourself to be dragged behind your boyfriend like a ragdoll, his grip on your wrist so tight your fingertips start to lose their sensation. you know that any words of dissatisfaction you voice will be falling on deaf ears, so you opt to keep quiet and let changbin take the lead.

the bite of the cold night air of the winter jolts you awake once you step outside. a dull ring settles in your ears as the loud club music dissipates and changbin drags you further and further away from the establishment, almost dislocating your shoulder when he suddenly yanks you down a small, secluded alleyway. 

“bin i’m fine, really,” you attest, your eyes never leaving the troubled face of your boyfriend, who pulls a pack of marlboros and a lighter out of his pocket. you watch as he places a cigarette between his lips before lighting it, using his hand to shelter the flame from the wind. in that moment you become envious of a measly little cigarette, for you so desperately wish that it was you and your mouth that changbin was putting his lips on and inhaling deeply, sucking you in like you’re his lifeline. 

a haze of smoke soon surrounds you as changbin takes several drags from his dart, his eyes dark and refusing to meet yours. the scent burns your nostrils and you have to fight back the urge to cough; smoking only appeals to you when you’re drunk, and the alcohol you consumed earlier in the night has mostly exited your system.

with a sigh that manifests in a grey cloud changbin tosses his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, squashing the spark with the heel of his boot before catching your eye. his leather jacket rustles as he raises his hands to cup your face, the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“you’re mine, and nobody else’s,” his gaze is so piercing it feels as if he’s going to burn a hole through you, “right?”

you nod enthusiastically, head bobbing up and down as you whisper a quiet ‘right’ through squished cheeks and puckered lips - lips that are then being pressed against your boyfriends. 

changbin tastes like the nicotine he just inhaled and smells like the cologne he saturated himself with earlier this evening, and you find yourself getting drunk all over again on something other than alcohol this time - him. 

with your back pressed up against a brick wall you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of your lover’s mouth on yours, enraptured by the way changbin moves his lips in tandem with your own. the warmth radiating from the palms of his hands that have yet to leave your face makes your cheeks flush, and you tangle your fingers in the wavy strands of his hair that he’s choosing to let grow out, much to your delight. 

the skin of your cheek stings when it’s exposed to the cold as changbin retracts his hand from your face, the tips of his fingers tracing the skin of your neck and sternum before reaching the waistband of your bottoms. his curious hand only hovers there for a moment before slipping underneath, not allowing a mere piece of fabric to be an obstacle in the way of your pleasure. a feeble moan escapes you when changbin gropes your cunt over your panties, the fabric already sticky and wet with your arousal. 

“here, bin?” you question while scanning your surroundings, making sure there isn't anyone spying on the two of you being exhibitionists, “are you sure this is a good idea?’

“the best one i’ve ever had,” as he speaks his lips graze your neck, his breath hot and heavy before he starts to nip and suck at the supple skin; your pulse skyrockets and you clamp your thighs shut, ultimately trapping changbin’s hand in between them. 

he manages to pry your legs apart just enough in order to move his hand, sliding your panties to the side and running two deft fingers through the folds of your dripping, needy pussy. it’s funny in the sense that changbin’s actions are so simple yet they already have you whining in pleasure, head rolling forward as you hide yourself in the crook of his neck. 

“shhh baby, try to keep it down,” he coos, yet continues on nonetheless - easy for him to say, he’s not the one taking your fingers in an alleyway where a bunch of drunk people are parading by only metres away. 

changbin continues to play with your cunt nonchalantly, much to your chagrin. every now and then he lets the tip of his middle finger dip into your dripping hole, causing you to go weak in the knees as the calloused heel of his palm kisses and bumps your aching clit.

“binnie,” you heave out rather embarrassingly, “i need it.”

“my girl needs my fingers in her pretty pussy, huh?” he teases, you nod pathetically with glassy eyes.

and at long last changbin finally relents and slips his middle and ring fingers fully inside of you, your cunt immediately clenching around his digits. the way he drags his fingers in and out of you so slowly before fucking them back into you feels so euphoric that you can’t help the goofy, drunken smile that makes its way onto your face as you drool onto the shoulder of his leather jacket. 

with his broad shoulders shielding you from the outside world, changbin begins to curl and scissor his fingers inside of your warm, wet walls, making you moan and plead against his neck.

“god binnie you’re so good, feels so fucking good,” you cry through cracked lips while blinking away the eyeliner that stings your shiny, tearfilled eyes. 

changbin then uses his thumb to massage your clit while his fingers continue to reach deep inside of you, making your lower abdomen twist and churn and your heart go thump thump thump from behind your chest. your fingers only tighten their grip on changbin’s jacket as you subtly rock your hips against his hand in an attempt to bring your orgasm on sooner.

you find yourself tuning out the sounds of traffic and people and nightlife to instead hone in on the beating of changbin’s heart that you can hear beating in his chest, your moans that only continue to increase in pitch, the rustle of bin’s jacket as he fingers you. 

“so close honey, can you cum for me?” changbin groans into your ear in response to your pussy clenching around his fingers, a telltale sign that you’re on the brink of finishing all over his hand. at this point your back is aching from being pressed against brick for so long and you have a headache from how intensely you’ve been furrowing your brows, but the fire you feel in your aching pelvis makes it all worth it.

it only takes changbin several more thrusts before you’re creaming all over his fingers, whining his name is a nasally, needy tone as you all but collapse against his built frame as your orgasm explodes inside of you like fireworks. after a few moments you begin to come down, immediately noticing how dry your open mouth is and how sore your fingers are from gripping changbin’s jacket with everything you got.

when you pull away from changbin to stand up straight, a string of spit from your mouth to his jacket follows you - you wipe it away and pray he didn’t notice. it takes you a second to fully regain your balance and when you do, changbin finally lets go of your hips only to move his soiled fingers to his mouth where he sucks them clean of your essence. then he places his mouth on yours, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before he swallows you down his throat. 

words needn’t be exchanged for you to know what comes next, you simply follow changbins lead as he drags you all the way home and makes a mess of you on the sheets of his bed.

[firstclassattorney]

(going alllllll the way back to https://www.tumblr.com/firstclassattorney/757472586018045952/ooc-im-so-dismayed-i-just-now-realized-i-never?source=share. time for that promised dinner date!!!! getting to dive into kazy’s thought process and describe it)

Anyone who knew Kazy Whitlock would say that that he was a very levelheaded person—never stressed nor panicked, even under the most dire of circumstances.

Atleast.. not in the public eye.

He scowled, wiping away the botched eyeliner for the 7th time that evening. Kazy was dressed to the nines; he had the most gorgeous, blue maxi dress on, swapping out his action boots for a pair of white, closed-toe heels. Feminine? Sure. In Kazy’s humble opinion, it flattered his appearance.

As he walked across his house, heels clicking, he sprayed the matte makeup finish and tossed it to the side, pulling on a cropped, black leather jacket… On second thought, Kazy left it. It was a cold night, but, surely, any gentleman would forfeit his coat.

If anyone asked? Pfff, no, Kazy was a man of the law. He didn’t speed on his way to the restaurant. No witnesses and no evidence means no crime.

Kazy was in the restaurant five minutes before seven P.M. The reservation was ready early, so he went ahead and took a seat, ordering a drink (Red wine, as usual. Did he have a drinking problem?) and waiting for his company.

Kristoph, similarly, was usually a composed man. Even in the most dire situations he had a smile on his face. It was with his tendency to be completely calm that earned him the title 'the coolest attorney in the West' and his reputation for being 'unbreakable'.

However, tonight he had been STRESSED.

He felt a need to one-up the other in terms of physical appearance, changing his entire schedule so he could have extra time for preparation and self care. The amount of times he needed to wipe his sweaty hands or curse at something (or someone?) was something he did not want to discuss. However, his almost unnecessary preparations were all worth it.

He chose a palette to stick to, having more earthy colors this time in comparison to the blue shades he usually wore. A desaturated green suit with a light brown coat, a black tie and black shoes to match with the tie. He had put on some jewellery as well, choosing gold considering it made contrast with the cool colors.

Internally, he hoped no one would recognise him while he entered, and another part of him considered leaving and saving himself the trouble. It was too late to go back, though, considering he spotted Kazy. He smiled and went to go sit.

"Whitlock," The last name rolled off his tongue rather easily, "I almost assumed you wouldn't show up."