#I’ve been wanting to draw them in these stupid shirts for so long

[girlbossnezuko]

#stobin moment #don’t ask what the H brand is for bc idk #they’re at the Hawkins farm convention or smth. decide with your heart #i miss them #I’ve been wanting to draw them in these stupid shirts for so long #the arrows pointing in the wrong direction is crucial #the greatest qpr hawkins has ever seen #<— stobin tag #envy draws #stranger things #fanart #stranger things fanart #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions,  and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

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“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.” 

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms. 

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3. 

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful. 

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms. 

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected. 

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care. 

It also wore off in 24 hours. 

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans. 

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach. 

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised. 

The other two were different, they had… other urges. 

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data. 

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.” 

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much. 

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long. 

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.” 

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that. 

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?” 

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased. 

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.” 

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost. 

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?” 

He nodded and held his arm out to you. 

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen. 

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.  

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him. 

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped. 

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?” 

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him. 

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms. 

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid. 

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins. 

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip. 

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this- 

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red. 

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him. 

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible. 

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time. 

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame. 

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut. 

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound. 

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense. 

Almost. 

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this. 

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name. 

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect. 

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. 

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch. 

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret. 

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up. 

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once. 

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum. 

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'. 

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth. 

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist. 

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh. 

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this. 

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating. 

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release. 

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you. 

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off. 

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release. 

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating. 

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest. 

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side. 

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough. 

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second. 

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative. 

It shouldn't take long. 

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes. 

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run. 

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth. 

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work. 

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down. 

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others. 

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful. 

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back. 

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine. 

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick. 

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level. 

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful. 

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him. 

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core. 

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check. 

It doesn’t last long. 

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in. 

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on. 

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts. 

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got. 

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words. 

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper. 

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going. 

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust. 

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end. 

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change. 

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory. 

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down. 

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure. 

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade. 

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before. 

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless. 

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans. 

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you. 

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal. 

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears. 

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength. 

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips. 

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength. 

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements. 

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze. 

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes. 

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either. 

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside. 

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully. 

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control. 

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat. 

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly. 

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip. 

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him. 

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you. 

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat. 

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him. 

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in. 

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight,  his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin. 

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release. 

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily. 

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat. 

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter. 

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin. 

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly. 

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot. 

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside. 

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm. 

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves. 

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second. 

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-” 

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs. 

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation. 

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you. 

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw. 

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.” 

.

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns. 

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time. 

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated. 

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” 

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down. 

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?” 

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now. 

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin. 

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath. 

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently. 

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?” 

You shake your head. “Happy to help.” 

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair. 

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand. 

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused. 

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.” 

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong. 

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation. 

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close. 

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe. 

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul. 

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.  

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered. 

You frown and shake your head, confused. 

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #x reader #miguel o’hara x you #x you #miguel o’hara x female reader #x female reader #miguel o’hara x f!reader #x f!reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x afab!reader

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hallowed

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, face sitting, smut. Word count: ~1.3k

Summary: Her Early Medieval Literature essay is due, and Michael has his own cruel way of ensuring she stays focused.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day six of the Smuffmas prompts - "future and face sitting". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She lounges on Michael’s bed, clad in only knickers and one of his t-shirts, a copy of the Canterbury Tales grasped lightly between her fingers. Her eyes move over the words of Chaucer, but take none of them in, how could they? His long fingers draw lazy circles on her ankle, her legs stretched out up to the pillows where he reclines, the duvet wrapped around his bare midriff while he reads from a textbook called the Book of Proof.

Life feels simpler since Michael has entered it, despite the turbulent beginnings. She has given up her friends, under his advice, and there is now far less pressure to conform. Her only focuses are her studies and pleasing him, the latter of the two she takes great pleasure in.

It is always on his terms; when they see each other, what they do, how they do it, and despite his obvious initial inexperience he is a fast learner. His ability to make her fall apart, to make her relinquish all control is something he does expertly. The slight fear she feels towards him only adds to the excitement; he could destroy her if he wanted to, but if she plays nicely then he won’t, and she is more than happy to play nicely when the rewards for doing so are as satisfying as they are.

She sighs, his fingers upon her flesh making her core throb with want, even from the simple gesture of absentmindedly touching her leg. She lets her book slip from her fingers, raising up on her elbow to look at him.

“Michael…” she whines.

He looks at her impassively, adjusting his glasses. “The first of your three essays is due soon, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she responds with a roll of her eyes, flopping back down and stretching her arms above her head. “Early Medieval Literature.”

His hand moves from her ankle, fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of her underwear. “And what have you written?”

She shivers beneath his touch, squirming slightly. “Am I really here to study?”

“I’ve no interest in sleeping with a failing literature student,” he pulls his hand away and she immediately misses his warmth. “So tell me.”

She groans in frustration. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably something about irony in the Merchant’s Tale.”

His textbook thuds closed and she hears the heavy sound of him dropping it onto the bedside table. When she chances to glance up at him she sees he is sitting straighter in the bed, his gaze hardened as he looks at her. “Probably?! You mean you haven’t started it? Have you even thought about your thesis statement, your in-depth analysis or how you’re going to conclude your ideas, if you’ve even had any?”

“Oh, come on,” she says softly, sitting up and reaching for him. “There’s still time. Can’t we just–”

“No,” he cuts her off. “I’ve been spoiling you, and it’s made you stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” She protests. “If I remember correctly, it was you who called my degree a ‘glorified book club’.”

“You still need to try,” he tells her, frowning.

“You don’t try,” she argues with a shrug,” and marks in your first year don’t count towards the final degree.”

“I don’t have to try, but I still get firsts in everything. Marks this year may not count towards the final degree you get, but they count towards you keeping your scholarship. Think about your future instead of being a fucking brat for once in your life.”

His words are a sharp sting to her already fragile ego, and she lowers her gaze, fighting the sudden urge to cry.

“I’m not touching you again until your essay’s handed in and I’ve seen what your mark is.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief as she looks at him, searching his features for any indication that he’s being unserious. She finds none; he really means it.

“And you’re not to touch yourself. I’ll know.”

The next two weeks are torturous for her. On the occasions that Michael does invite her to his room, there is no more casual half dressed lounging on his bed. Instead, he has a study space set up for her at his desk, and won’t allow her to speak or leave until she has at least a thousand words written. 

They meet up in the library during free periods so that he can read through what she’s written, and her skin burns hot with humiliation each time he screws up a page and throws it into the waste paper bin, calling her arguments “lazy” and “uninspired”.

It lights a fire of determination beneath her, but bubbling under the surface is also a heightened state of arousal, driven by the lack of intimacy, and the fact that she finds that she likes it when he is so authoritative over her.

By the time she has finished, she has produced an essay that both her and Michael are satisfied with; it discusses the use of irony in Chaucer’s poem, the Merchant's Tale. She has used a number of excerpts and lines from the poem for analysis, revealing the instances of irony in each, and from this has determined that the irony Chaucer used in the Merchant's Tale is controlled.

Her eyes light up when Professor Ware hands it back, and she sees the 85% that’s circled at the top of it.

A first.

She feels giddy with excitement as she knocks on Michael’s door that evening, brandishing the now dog-eared pages at him as he opens the door.

“A first, I got a first!” She squeals, watching as he takes the essay from her, his eyes moving slowly over the top page.

“Hmmm,” he settles it down on the desk, removing his glasses and placing them on top. “Take off your jeans and underwear.”

“Wha–what?” She stammers, her grin fading.

“You want your reward, don’t you?” He asks, moving to lay back on the bed.

She swallows thickly, excitement fluttering in her lower belly, as she quickly complies, ridding herself of the clothing that covers her lower half.

“Come here,” he commands softly.

She joins him on the bed, a gasp leaving her as he manhandles her until her knees are positioned either side of his head.

“My clever girl,” he whispers. His words could be mistaken for softness, were they not directly juxtaposed by the rapid darkening of his blue eyes, and the way his thumbs drag across the indentations between her thighs and pelvis. “I knew you could do it, you just needed a little…push.”

He drags his tongue from her opening all the way to her pearl, and her jaw goes slack, the wet sensation making her clench as she falls forward, hands clawing at the wall in front of her.

His grip on her thighs tightens and he tugs her flush against his face, the sloppy sounds of him devouring her are lewd combined with the wanton cries of pleasure that tumble from her lips.

She feels her mind go blank as he inserts his tongue inside of her, keeping it rigid as she begins to grind herself in a circular motion, keeping his nose pressed against where she needs it most, desperately chasing the release she’s needed the last couple of weeks.

His hum of appreciation reverberates through her core, and as he withdraws from her, plush lips wrapping around her sensitive bundle of nerves she feels herself fall apart as the growing ache intensifies, completely at his mercy as he laps at her, while white hot waves of pleasure wash over her.

She raises up when it becomes too much, jerking at how oversensitive she feels and gazes down at him through heavy lidded eyes, breathless.

He looks like an utterly different person without his glasses, almost kind, though she knows better. His chin is shiny with her slick as he smirks up at her.

“You’ve worked so hard,” he says quietly, though the edge of malevolence to his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t worry, you can give that pretty little mind of yours a rest while I fuck you stupid again.”

She is powerless to resist as he tugs her back to his face once more, beginning the exquisite torture all over again.

#michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #saltburn fan fic

[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Nine)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: Hanahaki!au, angst, alcohol consumption, swearing, jihoon has a panic attack, tears, nothing else too drastic this chapter 🙏🏼

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS, DEAR READERS! Omg it’s been so long and I apologize for that! Hopefully this can tie yall over into the new year! 🥰 I hope you all got spoilt over the holiday period and enjoy this new chapter! 🫶🏼 ALSO shoutout to my girl Wei for pretty much cowriting this chapter with me 💜

- Tae 💜🌸

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“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Jihoon stares at your brother’s soulmate with wide eyes.

“Is what me?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Lee.” Jeonghan frowns, arms crossed tight across his chest. “Y/N. Are you her soulmate or not?”

Jihoon’s heart skips a beat as he pauses.

“What makes you think that?”

Jeonghan notes his avoidance of the question. “It all adds up a little too well. She found her soulmate the day you were supposed to walk her home. She avoids you like the plague unless she has to be near you. She can barely look in your direction but you stare at her like a lost puppy. I see you smiling about her when you think no one is looking. But… you have Ji-ah.” Your soulmate grimaces. “And knowing my Ladybug, which I do, she would never want to separate a couple if she can help it. She’s too selfless for that. She would give her worst enemy the shirt off her back if she thought it would help.” Jeonghan’s eyes look glazed over, tears filling them. “All of the evidence I’ve seen concludes that you’re her soulmate and she is tearing herself apart to keep you happy.”

“How do you know she is hurting?”

“She is drinking.” Jeonghan mutters. “She only ever drinks if she’s really upset about something. This is the only thing I can chalk it up to. Am I correct?”

“No. You’re wrong.” Jihoon lies through his teeth.

“I hope I am.” Jeonghan retorts quickly. “Because what I’ve heard from Soonyoung about you, you’re a great person.” Your soulmate winces as he feels the guilt seep in again. “I know someone wouldn’t willingly do this to someone as sweet as her.”

“You don’t know me.” Jihoon’s voice is small.

“You’re right. I don’t.” He agrees. “Look, I don’t care if you are or if you’re not. All I care about is that girl back there. If you are her soulmate, you need to stop giving her goo-goo eyes while you’re with another girl and giving her false hope. You need to cut the tether. Let the girl heal in her own way because you two being around each other is giving her hope of a relationship that will never happen.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried that?” He hisses. “I have tried to fucking avoid her and let her heal and let her forget about me!” There are tears in his eyes now.

“If I could change how it turned out, I would. I’m her fucking project partner and her best friend is my best friend. This stupid invisible force keeps drawing me to her and I’m hating it.” His words keep spilling out, the tears beginning to fall.

“I feel her cry every fucking night and I can’t do anything about it and help her without hurting someone else! And the worst part is that still despite everything, she hasn’t told anyone because she doesn’t want anything bad to happen to me! I don’t deserve her! I want to stop her suffering and leave her alone but I can’t! What am I supposed to fucking do?!”

Jeonghan sighs and stares at your soulmate in tears before him. “Is it stupid to say follow your heart?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “Then I say make your choice and make it quickly. I can’t stand to see that kid go through any more pain than what she has been through, you better be fast.” Jihoon winces as he watches Jeonghan turn around and begin to walk away. “Jihoon-ssi, Consider yourself lucky that it was me that noticed and not her brother. If it was him, you’d be dead where you stand. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” Jihoon whispers, running his fingers through his hair slowly.

“Good. I hope I don’t have to tell you to stop hurting her again.”

Jihoon stares up at the starry sky as Jeonghan makes his way back to the campsite, tears still falling down his cheeks. His mind is running a mile a minute, his lungs squeezing as he tries to control his breathing.

What the fuck is he going to do?

It takes Jihoon another 20 minutes before he makes his way back to the group, his brain just as jumbled as it was before. He is no closer to a solution than he was before being confronted by Jeonghan, and he is sure he isn’t going to have it by the end of the night. He looks to the picnic table first, looking to see you still wedged between Jisoo and Seungcheol, sipping from your third bottle of soju. Your eyes are glazed over as you lean quietly into Jisoo’s side, a dopey smile on your face as you laugh at Soonyoung. Jisoo’s arm is kept tightly around you, rubbing your arm soothingly as Seungcheol speaks in hushed whispers with his soulmate.

Jeonghan’s words have planted a seed of worry in Jihoon’s brain as he spots Seokmin watch his soulmate with adoring eyes, who is currently fawning over you. He really should figure out what to do with his fucked up situation, but for now, he makes his way to his housemates and his not-soulmate. He plants himself down in the camping chair next to Ji-ah, who doesn’t seem to notice his arrival. Instead, she is staring at her phone with a little smile forming on her face.

“Did your sister send you some dress ideas, babe?” Jihoon asks, the pet name leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

His presence startles Ji-ah, yelping and almost dropping her phone. “Huh?”

“I just asked if that was your sister.”

“O-oh.” She laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Uhh.. yeah, just talking about cake flavor ideas.” She shoves her phone quickly into her pocket before he can see, cheeks flushed. Jihoon simply hums and nods as he leans forward slightly to listen in on Mingyu and Wonwoo’s conversation.

“No~!” Jihoon hears you whining as Seungkwan takes Seungcheol’s spot beside you. “I want it, Boo.” You jutt your bottom lip out as Seungkwan holds the bottle of soju above your head.

“Ah-ah. No.” His voice is firm. “That is bottle number three when you have had no food in you. It’s time to eat.”

“Why?” You sigh dramatically.

“Because you’re going to get alcohol poisoning.” Jisoo tries to encourage you.

“Maybe I want to get blackout drunk.” You huff.

“Maybe,” Seungcheol agrees with you, leaning against Seungkwan’s back as he held the alcohol high above your reach. “But in this family, we drink responsibly. You will get this back when you eat at least one bowl of rice and some meat.”

“Come on, you,” Soonyoung sits atop the table in front of you, holding the chopsticks full of food towards you. “One bite at a time.”

“No.” You grumble, turning your head away from him.

“If you eat, you get the soju back, Goober.” Jisoo encourages beside you, still rubbing at your arm as you look up at him. Your frown is still visible as he smiles down to you, nodding eagerly. After a long sigh, you open your mouth obediently as Soonyoung puts the awaiting food into your mouth.

“There we go!” Seokmin grins and claps happily at you.

“Good girl.” Jisoo praises, and your cheeks turn red as a small smile forms on your lips, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by your soulmate.

Soonyoung wordlessly offers more food to you, which you take eagerly with Jisoo’s praises, but Jihoon can’t help but stare at your blushing cheeks and dazed smile at your brother's friend with each bite. For the upteenth time that night, Jihoon pushes down the uncomfortable feeling that settles in his stomach as he tries to remember Jeonghan’s words to tell him to move on from you.

Within five minutes, almost the whole plate is finished by you, your rosy cheeks puffed up as you look hopefully to Seungkwan. “I did good?”

“Hmm~” he hums appreciatively. “You sure did.” He grins, patting your head sweetly as he passes the soju to Jisoo.

“Now, you can have this back, but you gotta be good and drink slowly. Okay, Goober?”

“Yes, Shua-‘ppa.” You chirp through your last mouthful of food, and giggle gleefully as he passes the alcohol to you.

Jihoon purposely attempts to keep his back to you to avoid the temptation to keep an eye on you. You’re clearly tipsy at best, and too many nights of handling a drunk, clingy Mingyu have conditioned him to want to try and keep an eye on you to see if you’ll be just as destructive as your friend.

To his surprise though, for the rest of the night you stay by Jisoo’s side, nestled delicately against him. Jisoo doesn’t mind, on the contrary, he has kept up his conversations with the others well as his arm absentmindedly keeps you close, stroking your shoulder as he talks. You stay happily curled up, fiddling with a box of beads and string that Jisoo has brought for the trip, making bracelets as you hum drunkenly to yourself.

“Hyung,” Mingyu is whispering to your brother, standing by the fire near Jihoon’s seat, who can’t help but listen to his housemate speak. “Are you sure you should be letting Y/N-ie drink?”

“She’s not hurting anyone, is she?” Seungcheol deadpans, raising an eyebrow. “Look at her. She’s fine.”

Jihoon follows the line of view with Mingyu, observing you. You’re smiling quietly as you delicately place a purple flower bead onto the small plastic thread, Jisoo leaning down and whispering something in your ear, making you giggle and nudge his side before testing the length of the bracelet around his wrist.

“Aren’t they a little too close?” Wonwoo comments, a frown of concern on his face as your soulmate keeps his eyes on you tying the end of the bracelet around Jisoo’s wrist securely.

“If you’re trying to insinuate my friend would make a move on my sister, you’re wrong.” Seungcheol hums nonchalantly, taking a swig of his beer. “We were all close as kids. This is exactly like how they were.”

“Is Shua single, babe?” Jeonghan asks your brother, loud enough for Jihoon to hear. Jihoon frowns deeply, knowing what he is trying to do.

“I mean, he has a soulmate.” Seungcheol responds, Jeonghan keeping his eyes on Jihoon. “He hasn’t seen them for a long time, but he has one.”

“Interesting.” Is Jeonghan’s only response, sipping his drink as he eyes your soulmate’s obvious grimace.

Your giggles filled the comfortable silence for most of the relaxed evening as you watch Seungkwan nag to Soonyoung, wagging his finger in his face as the older boy starts to imitate him. The night has begun to quiet down now, nearing close to 1am as some of the group have retreated to their tents for the evening, leaving only Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Jisoo, Soonyoung, Seokmin, Seungkwan, Jihoon and yourself left awake. Although, you are clearly losing the battle of consciousness.

You’re currently on your upteenth bracelet of the night, blinking blearily as you place the rainbow beads carefully onto the thread as Jisoo, who now hasn’t left your side almost all evening, joins in as he seems to be making a necklace. Jihoon has been preparing to go back to his tent for a little while now, but he finds himself not able to rest until everyone else has. He stays put in his camping chair as he watches you and your friends wind down for the evening.

“Hey, you.” Seokmin leans over you, making you lean backwards against his front, relishing in his warmth as you hum in content.

“Hi.” You smile sleepily, watching as Seokmin reaches down to tie the bracelet against your wrist.

“Ready for bed, hm?” He smiles down to you as you begin to pout. Before you can speak, though, he laughs. “Come on, Bug, we are going into the city tomorrow to go to the beach. We need to rest so we can have a fun beach day.”

Jihoon can see the gears ticking in your head as you process his words, lip still in a deep frown. It’s cute.

“The bracelets will be here for you tomorrow, y’know.” Jisoo chimes in with a charming smile. “And we are all going to bed now so you won’t miss out.”

“Mm…Kay.” You yawn.

“C’mon.” Soonyoung coos, taking your hand as you rise, reaching up and rubbing at your eye tiredly. He wraps you in a fluffy blanket as he leads you to the large inflatable pool. He glances at Seungcheol and Jeonghan as he passes them, whispering. “Do you have the painkillers for tomorrow?” When they nod, he nods with approval before scooping you up and settling you down on the pillows beside his soulmate who takes you carefully.

“Ready for some stargazing?” Seokmin smiles as you nod silently, already leaning back and looking up at the clear, starry sky as Soonyoung lays down beside you. Your eyes begin to tiredly flutter closed, your head falling and resting against your best friend’s shoulder.

“I thought you said she wasn’t affectionate and cuddly with soulmated people?” Jisoo asked your brother curiously as you snuggle with your friends.

“Normally she isn’t.” Seungcheol hums.

“She’s been drinking, that’s why.” Jeonghan chimes in as he cleans the last of the rubbish on the table.

“Did you end up finding out why?” Your brother asks quietly. “She only ever does when something has really hurt her.”

Jeonghan pauses with a quick glance to Jihoon before shaking his head, a pang of guilt building inside him. “No. She wouldn’t tell me.”

“She will tell you about it when she’s ready, I’m sure.” Jisoo replies sagely with a smile that makes Jihoon almost scoff. He has known you for five minutes.

“Yeah, but…” Seungcheol sighs.

“Hey, no buts.” His soulmate smiles, pecking his lips. “She’s in the safest hands she could be in. And like Joshuji said, she will tell us when she is ready.”

After the others all made their way to their tents for the night, (and after a stupid longing stare at you resting in Soonyoung’s arms) Jihoon heaves a sigh as he steps into his small tent to see Ji-ah sitting straight up on the mattress, looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Babe?” The name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that he chooses to ignore. It causes Ji-ah to jolt, not sensing his presence. “Is everything alright?”

“Jihoon,” she sighs nervously. “Something has happened. I… tomorrow when we go to the city I need to go home.”

“Wait, what?” Jihoon’s eyes widened as he crawled onto the mattress beside his not-soulmate. She tenses. “What’s happened? Do you need me to go with you?”

“No!” She insists quickly, making Jihoon jolt in shock. “I mean… no,” she takes a shaky breath and laughs awkwardly. “No.. it’s fine. I just need to get home as soon as I can.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” He reaches for her hand, which she hesitantly takes.

“Yes, I’m sure, babe.” She smiles, although to him it almost seems like a grimace. He pauses for a moment before nodding.

“Okay. I’ll get Jeonghan-ssi to take a detour on the way to the beach tomorrow.”

“Thank you…” she smiled again, a bit more genuine this time as they both moved to lay down to rest, although Jihoon doesn’t think he will be able to sleep any time soon - the memories of Jeonghan’s words and your heartbroken face playing over in his head on loop.

At the ripe time of 8:14am, Jihoon steps out of the tent with Ji-ah’s suitcase in tow, wincing at the bright sunlight shining through the trees on the campsite. He rubs at his eyes tiredly, glancing around at the state of the others.

At the early hour, only a few are awake and making breakfast for the (most likely) hungover others who are still resting. Jeonghan and Seungcheol man the barbecue, Jisoo putting all the food onto plates for everyone once they wake. Jihoon can’t help but frown a little at Jisoo before he glances over to where he knows he shouldn’t look.

Seokmin and Soonyoung are awake, sitting up and talking quietly to each other with a still resting you sleeping against Soonyoung’s chest. Your face is hidden from everybody, buried against the soft fabric of your best friend’s hoodie, protecting you from the brightness of the sun. Soonyoung is patting the back of your head as he speaks intimately with Seokmin, who is scratching your back absentmindedly. Jihoon watches for a moment, nose scrunching up slightly before he turns to make his way to your brother and his soulmate.

“Umm, Jeonghan-hyung,” Jihoon starts nervously. Hyung is fine, right? It’s respectful enough. “Can I please talk to you for a second?”

Jeonghan looks genuinely surprised at your soulmate standing before him, looking dare he says… scared? He’s amused as he watches Jihoon glance at your brother nervously for a split second. Your brother pays him no mind, still tending to the food so it doesn’t burn.

“Sure, give me a second.” He smiles, stepping out from behind the barbecue to the picnic table a few meters away, Jihoon trailing behind awkwardly.

“I’d like to ask a favor.” He can’t look Jeonghan in the face. If he was honest, his chat with him yesterday scared the crap out of him at the thought of your brother’s wrath. “It isn’t much, really…”

“What is it?”

“Ji-ah has had a family emergency come up.” He gestures to her suitcase by their tent. “I just wanted to ask if it was okay if we could pass by the train station on the way to the beach today? I can cover for fuel and-”

“Oh!” Jeonghan lets out an airy laugh. “Is that all?” Jihoon’s shocked at the change in his tone. “I thought you were going to tell me that you were going to do something stupid like ask me how to woo your soulmate.”

Jihoon gasps audibly as he quickly turns to look around to see if anybody overheard Jeonghan’s words.

“It’s fine, Jihoon-ssi.” He smiles. “Half of the guys are planning to go shopping in the city while we go to the beach anyway. No sweat.”

He releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Oh.. thank you, hyung.” He nods slowly. As he turns away, he jumps slightly at the feeling of Jeonghan’s hand grabbing his wrist.

“It’s no problem.” His voice is suddenly icy. “But, for future reference, don’t think about asking me about how to win Ladybug’s heart unless you’re 100% serious, you hear me?” A small jolt of fear runs through him as he nods worriedly. And just as quick as he came, Jeonghan’s expression changes back to his happy demeanor. “Perfect! We are on the same page then! Good talk.” He claps him on the back before making his way to the food. “Now have some breakfast before it gets cold.”

The others are uncharacteristically quiet as they all climb onto the bus for the quiet ride into the city due to the copious amount of alcohol consumption from the night before. Seungcheol is amused at the sight of a hungover you climbing onto the bus and planting yourself down on a seat.

You pull a pair of sunglasses over your eyes, leaning your head on the headrest as you immediately attempt to curl up and get comfy. Seokmin sits beside you, smiling at you as you grab his hand, placing it directly on top of your head with an intelligible mumble. Seokmin seems to understand, though, as he carefully pulls what hair he can back, starting to braid it delicately and neatly as Seungkwan chuckles with Mingyu at how adorably clingy you can be when you aren’t worrying so much.

Jihoon is unfortunately in the seats directly behind you both with Ji-ah, a small frown on his face as he tries to not stare at you and your hair. He’s so close he can hear you almost purring with content as you start to drift off once more, his stomach twisting in pain as Jeonghan starts the bus to take off.

“Thank you again for keeping her company, last night, Jisoo.” Jihoon can hear Seungcheol murmur to his friend, who is sitting beside Soonyoung.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He chirps happily, the alcohol’s after effects clearly not bothering him. “I’ve missed my little Goober.” Jihoon scoffs quietly, glancing out the window to try and ignore the conversation but feels his blood run cold for a moment as Jisoo’s voice grows softer.

“Besides, she needed that last night - to be carefree and have someone be there for her the way someone who loves her can, even if it was just for a night.” Everyone understands what Jisoo is implying, including Jihoon as he spots your brother’s soulmate stare at him for a moment through the rear view mirror. He winces, glancing away from the intense gaze, opting to stare at the scenery that is his first home town for the remainder of the short drive.

“Thank you again for dropping me off here, Jeonghan-Oppa.” Ji-ah smiles politely as she stands by the door of the bus. “You could have dropped me with the others at the mall, I would’ve found my way here.”

“Don’t be silly,” Jeonghan smiles at her, having got out of the bus to stretch his legs for a moment. “It’s no trouble at all. I would have rather known you made it here safely and in one piece. I hope your emergency is able to get sorted out quickly.” He gently pats her arm as she smiles sweetly at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you in?” Jihoon asks her quietly, and she shakes her head with a smile.

“I’m keeping you guys enough as it is. Go enjoy the beach, kay?” She smiles. Jihoon nods with a little smile.

“Alright then. Message me when you get back home?” He leans in to peck her lips, only to be surprised when instead of her lips, his own meets her cheek.

“Will do, Hoon. Bye!” Ji-ah is quick to grab her suitcase, dashing towards the entrance to the station, leaving Jihoon dumbfounded at the foot of the bus.

Did she just dodge his kiss?

“Jihoon-ah.” Jeonghan’s voice calls to him. If he noticed anything unusual, he doesn’t comment. “You coming?”

Jihoon blinks out of his daze, nodding quickly before climbing back up into the bus and back into his seat.

Jihoon has always loved the beach. Even though he was, as Soonyoung would call it, a certified hermit, as a child he would always find himself spending his weekends at the beach with his parents if the weather called for it. He takes in a deep breath as he tastes the familiar salty air, a small smile of content on his face as he watches the waves lull lazily against the shore.

Only a small number of the group decided to join Seungcheol and Jeonghan at the beach, including himself, Seokmin, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Mingyu, Seungkwan, Hansol, Jisoo and yourself. He was more than happy with anyone who decided to join them, with the plan being the whole group meet up for dinner at a hotpot restaurant to celebrate Seungcheol’s actual birthday before taking the party back to the campsite for drinks and games.

Seungcheol, Soonyoung and Mingyu are already in the water as Jihoon sits down on his beach chair under a large communal beach umbrella where he and the others have set up for the day. He watches as Seokmin sits with Seungkwan and Hansol, happily making plans for a large, elaborate sandcastle while Wonwoo and Jisoo sit quietly on their towels, having a quiet discussion together. He glances down at his phone to see if Ji-ah has texted him yet, and sighs quietly when he sees no notifications.

“Are you seriously not thinking about getting into the water today, Ladybug?” Jeonghan’s hums in the distance, drawing closer to Jihoon and their things. “I think the cool water would make your hangover better, wouldn’t it?”

“Nope.” Your voice is dull and monotone, mirroring the way you feel. “There are sharks in that water, I refuse.”

“Sharks wouldn’t come up to where the water meets your hips, pabo.”

“I refuse to take that chance.” You wave him off, Jihoon hearing your voices getting closer. “I like swimming in bodies of water that are condensed and clear enough so I know what I’m getting into.”

“Then why are you wearing the bikini if you don’t plan on getting in?” Jeonghan retorts. Jihoon gulps.

“Because I need the tan.” You bark back, Jeonghan simply chuckling as he tickles your sides, causing you (and Jihoon) to jolt and yelp.

Jihoon knows he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Against his better judgement, he turns his head towards where your voice is coming from, choking on his own spit as he sees you; hair braided and sunglasses covering your eyes. You’re wearing a pastel blue and white striped bikini, the little galaxies of your collarbone on full display as you make your way to a beach chair near where Wonwoo is situated.

Jihoon is so fucked.

Real Eyes, Fake Lies Taglist

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Permanent Taglist

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#seventeen angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #lee jihoon x reader #woozi angst #woozi x reader #lee jihoon angst #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #woozi fluff

[jocentric]

Sober Thoughts | Theo Nott x reader

—

The party sounded loudly around you, another win for the Slytherin Quidditch team being the cause of it. Despite Harry’s strong efforts to catch the golden snitch, Draco had beaten him to it and didn’t fail to gloat about it all the way back to the castle.

Theo complained about the loud noise as soon as the music started, making a mental note to tell Draco to keep his ego down the next time he saw him. But you convinced him to ignore his friend’s stupidity, and enjoy the party. It wasn’t long before you were a bit past tipsy, and he was trying to get you away from the crowd before you did something stupid.

You managed to trip up the steps, but you giggled and carried on making your way to your dorm. Theo rolled his eyes and sighed, closing the door behind him in an attempt to block out at least some of the noise.

“Theo!” you practically yelled, forgetting that he was following you. “Hi, Theo!” you threw your arms around him, him catching you before you fell. “Hello, darling. I hate to break it to you, but I’ve been here the whole time.” he laughed.

“No, you haven’t. You weren’t there, and then I turned around, and boom! You were there.” you laughed, backing away from him, and falling onto the bed when your knees hit it. He shook his head, smiling at his feet. “Alright, you caught me. I teleported.” your eyes widened and he laughed. “I knew it!”

He walked over to the dresser, and you watched as he opened one of the drawers to find a change of clothes for you. “You want this one?” he asked, pulling out a pair of shorts. You nodded frantically, chewing on your fingernails. “Okay, how about this shirt?”

“Nuh uh.”

“Okay, how about this one?”

You shook your head, and he sighed. “Alright, which one do you want?”

You giggled and pointed to him. “My sweater? You’ll be too hot.”

“But it’s pretty. I want that one, ” you said, doing your best to stand off the bed. He sighed, holding in a laugh as fell back over onto the bed. “Please, ” you whined.

“Fine. But only because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to fight with you.”

You smiled giddily, thanking him loudly. “Yeah, yeah, ” he responded. You watched as he pulled the hoodie off him, throwing it at you before fixing his shirt.

You tried your best to pull off your own shirt but gave up as your arm somehow got stuck. “Help, please?” you asked. Theo smiled, helping you pull the shirt off, and helping you put the hoodie on. “Smells like you,” you said.

“Well, I’d imagine so, considering I took it off to give it to you, and it’s mine,” he said teasingly, helping you put the shorts he picked out on.

Soft moments like this weren’t rare between you, and you found yourself hoping they lasted longer. You knew him like the back of your hand. From the way he talked, to the route he took to each class, to the little scar on his hand from when he and Draco got into a fight in the first year. And for everything you knew about him, he knew a thing about you.

“Is that better, peanut?” Theo asked. You nodded, moving to get under the blankets. “Here.” he lifted the blanket, letting you lay under them, before throwing them over you. “Is that good?” you nodded.

There was a certain level of trust between you both, and it was one you wished would never go away. It was calming, a sense of relief washed over you at the realization that he trusted you just as much as you trusted him. A thought resurfacing, threatening to escape your lips, but you were just aware enough to catch it before it did.

“Stay with me, please?” you asked as he got up. He turned, eyeing you for a moment, before nodding. “Okay, ” he replied, laying next to you and pulling the covers over himself. “Comfy?” he asked. You moved closer to him, laying your head on his chest, leg thrown over his. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer. “Now I am.”

He gave a low laugh. “I really worry about you, you know?”

“And why is that?”

“You’re always doing things that could get you in trouble, or that could get you hurt. How much did you drink tonight?”

“I wasn’t keeping track, who does that? Not me, is who!”

He laughed again, pulling you closer, holding onto the feeling of you in his arms. “I know.”

“You seem to really care about me. I can’t blame you, I’m awesome.”

“That I do, and that you are. Pretty little minx, aren’t you?” he began to tickle you, you jumped, trying to squirm away as you laughed. “Mercy! Have mercy!” you yelled. He sighed and stopped, pulling you back into his arms.

There were few beats of silence before, “I love you, ” you blurted out. “In case you haven’t figured it out already, I love you.”

He tensed for a moment, but relaxed again. He pulled away slightly, you tilting your head up to see him better. “Really? Cause last time I checked, I was the one in love with you.”

Your smile only got brighter, hiding your face in his chest. “I have been for a while, ” you said. “Yeah?” he asked.

You hummed in agreement. “I love you, Theo.”

He chuckled. “I love you too.”

#Harry Potter #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #Theo Nott fluff #Theodore Nott fluff #Harry Potter fluff

[yesimwriting]

Final Girl (Part 3)

- Final Girl Series Masterlist (updated part 1 - 9 and extras) 

A/n yall have been so kind!! all of the messages, likes, comments, and reblogs for this series have made me so happy! this chapter is a little bit of filler bc my original idea for this part was way too long especially with how busy this week is supposed to be, so i sort of split it!! 

also if this has pacing issues, i’m sorry, i had a panic attack yesterday and a really bad migraine today so it’s been kinda rough lately but i wanted to get this out!! Part 4 is going to have a little more going on :)

if this is messy pls don’t give up on me 😭 i promise the next part will have more going on i just didn’t want to leave y’all waiting forever and we needed a bit of a filler

also if anyone wants to leave me an ask about this series pls do:) i’ve had so much fun talking about Final Girl

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at  Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s. 

Chapter Summary: Y/n’s first day back after the incident. 

----

My reflection has never bothered me more. I know vanity is such a stupid thing to worry about now after what happened to Casey, but I can’t help the way I scrutinize my appearance. 

The attention drawing cotton-y bandaid that was placed on the gash on the side of my temple has been (thankfully) downgraded to a regular bandaid. That’s fine--I can accept that. What I can’t accept are the stupid cuts caused by all of that glass.

After being released from the hospital, it took no time for me to learn that it’s going to be awhile before I can comfortably wear pants again. My arms are a little less cut up, so the white, long sleeved shirt I picked out covers my injuries without irritating them. I tried on a pair of leggings and I barely got them to my thighs without wincing.

So now I’m wearing the most comfortable skirt I own. Normally, I wouldn’t even think twice about it, I wear this skirt so often, but it barely covers any of the cuts on the back of my legs. God...people are going to think I’m doing this for attention, especially since media outlets keep calling my house. 

Ugh--this is as good as it’s going to get for my first day back. I pick my backpack up from my bed. My eyelids feel so heavy I have to fight the urge to collapse back into bed. 

The walk downstairs is painfully slow. Once I’m finally in the hall that leads to the kitchen, I stop. A vague confusion clouds my thoughts. Was I going to the kitchen? What did I want from the kitchen?

“Mornin’, kiddo.” I blink at the sound of Wells’ voice. At least it’s offering me a sense of a direction. 

Stepping fully in the kitchen, I greet back, “Good morning.” 

He eyes me for a long second, piercing blue irises lingering in a way that makes me feel uneasy in my own skin. “Skirt’s a little grown, ain’t it?” When my only reaction is to furrow my eyebrows, he continues, “What happened to those little girl dresses you used to wear? I liked those.” 

I grab the strap of my backpack, shifting slightly. I stopped wearing those dresses after he had been dating my mom for a few months. “Outgrew them, I guess.” 

Wells nods once, the motion gruff as he moves to grab his mug. He lets out a curt, gruff noise. 

“Oh, Wells.” Like always, my mom’s voice chases away all the tension. “Don’t you know better than telling a girl what to wear? Especially a teenager. Now ease up, 16-year-old me would make Y/n look like a saint.” With that, my mom finally looks at me. “You look pretty, like always, I especially like your top.” It takes me a second to realize that my mom’s referencing the fact that I stole this shirt from her closet. I let out a soft, slow laugh. “You okay?” 

I nod drastically. “Yep, just want to get the first day back over with.” 

“I can’t believe you only took one day off. When I was your age, I’d have taken half a week off for less.” 

“It’s going to be bad no matter when I go back. My name’s been all over the news.” I release the strap of my backpack, scratching the back of my wrist. “Plus it’s junior year and that one day off already has me drowning in makeup work. I can’t afford to fall behind. Junior year is the year colleges look at most. This year could make or break whether or not I get into Princeton.” 

My mom holds her hands up in defense. “Yes, I know, you ranted to me about it yesterday. Just promise me you’ll listen to your body. I don’t love that you haven’t had your follow up appointment yet to confirm whether or not you have a concussion.” 

“Mom, I’m fine, promise. I’ll let you know if I start to feel weird.” 

She watches me for a long second, likely attempting to scan me the way an MRI machine would. “Fine, you need a ride or--” 

“Actually, a friend’s picking me up.” 

At that my mom tilts her head in a way that’s so knowing I feel the urge to confess even though I’ve done nothing. “A friend as in one of those two boys that spent all weekend calling and checking in on you?” 

My mom spent the last two days at my side. Normally it would have annoyed me, but it was actually nice. It reminded me of life before Wells. There was one downside, though. She saw how often Billy and Stu called. It wasn’t terrible and she probably would have picked up on it anyway, but it’s opened the ground to a lot of jokes and comments on her part.

“You’re the one who brought them into this. I would have never thought to call Billy while I was at the hospital.” That’s true. Even though we were friends before the incident, I wouldn’t have thought to call anyone except my mom. “And they’re just trying to be there for me like good friends.” 

At that, my mom leans against the kitchen island. “Y’know when I was your age, I had a guy that just wanted to be a good friend and drove me to school. Now I have a daughter.” 

I roll my eyes, “Haha. Yes--I’m going to get pregnant in the less than 10-ish minutes we’re going to have before we need to get to class.” 

“It only took about 8 minutes to make you, and that includes me getting dressed and fixing my hair after. Just saying.” 

I make a point of fake gagging. “Bye mom, Wells.“

“What? I was joking!” 

I walk towards the front door. A hand on my shoulder makes me nearly jump out of my skin. “Mom! You scared me.” 

She offers me a sheepish smile, “You know I’m kidding, right? They’re nice for caring.” 

“I know, mom.” 

With a sigh, she continues, “Just be sa--” 

“Oh my God, mom! I’m not having se--” 

“Easy, pumpkin,” she laughs off my outburst, “I mean in general. Don’t strain yourself and don’t feel like you need to push through. You want to go home early and I’ll pick you up.” 

I smile softly. “Yeah, I will.” 

With that, I open the front door. The sun is so bright I have to drop my head as I walk down the driveway. Wells’ house is objectively nicer than the house my mom and I lived in when we were still in Texas, but I still find myself missing the familiarity of our old front porch. 

Squinting, I look up and notice a car waiting next to the mailbox. How did I miss that? Rubbing my eyes with one hand, I approach the vehicle. 

I pull open the door to the backseat. Two sets of eyes turn towards me. “You know you guys didn’t have to wait for me.” I push my backpack into the car before sitting down. “You could’ve honked or something,” 

“We just got here,” Billy says easily, but I’m not sure I believe him. 

Stu turns in his seat to face me better as I shut the car door. “Plus we don’t mind giving you time to get all dolled up. Especially since today’s going to be a total bloodbath.” 

His wording leaves me more confused than upset. I draw my eyebrows together, shifting awkwardly. “What do you mean?” 

“Everyone’s gone crazy over what happened. I think more people were talking about you than Casey, and Casey’s the one that got gutted. It’s all over the news. They hung her from that tree in--” Billy moves his hand from the console in order to smack the side of Stu’s head. “Ow, man--what was that for?” 

“It’s not even 8 yet, at least let her wake up first before you traumatize her.” 

The thought of Casey makes my stomach twist, but I’m not focused in on anything enough to really react. Tiredly, I pull my backpack onto my lap and squeeze it to my body. “It’s fine,” I’m not sure if I’m talking to them or myself. 

Stu and Billy exchange a look that I barely register before resting my chin on my bag. “Are you okay? You didn’t even do that cute, little glare thing you do when you want me to shut up.” 

“I’m fine,” I answer a little too quickly, forcing myself to sit up some more, “A little tired.” Stu’s watching me a little too carefully and I catch Billy glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “Seriously?” Sighing, I shift in my seat, “First my mom and now you guys. I’m fine.”

My reaction is just a little too angry. Maybe if I felt a little more rested, I would have known better. Stu moves until he’s siting in the passenger seat normally. “Crying over the fact that you’re a total mommy’s girl.” 

Rolling my eyes and ignoring the way the motion irritates my migraine, I lean back in my seat. “Put on a seatbelt, asshole.” 

Even though that’s said with more bite and irritation than anything I’ve ever said to him, Stu laughs. It’s light and terribly offensive. I frown, looking over at Billy as heat crawls up my neck and towards my face. He’s just barely fighting down a grin. “It’s not that funny.” 

“No,” Stu sarcastically agrees, “That was so mean of you. I can’t remember the last time someone insulted me and tried to take care of me at the same time.” 

I cross my arms around my backpack. “Why did I agree to getting into a contained space with you two so early in the morning?” 

“Because you don’t have a license.” Billy looks way too smug as he turns the wheel as we move down a curb. 

I glare at him. “You extorted that information out of me while I was super out of it and half asleep.” 

“You said it yourself, it’s not like one of us asked.” 

He’s right and I hate it. I sink further into the seat, tempted to shut my eyes, but knowing that there’s no guarantee that I won’t fall asleep if I do. “Whatever.” 

Stu half laughs at that before starting to talk about a new scary movie that’s coming out. The plot sounds kind of basic, but I’m not one to judge until I see the movie. Normally, I’d be totally invested. I kind of like when Stu rambles about something he’s interested in, but now I’m struggling to hold my head up. 

I don’t register that we’re in the school parking lot until both Billy and Stu get out of the car. Once they’re both out, I shake my head once in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Get it together.

When I step out of the car, I make a point of keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me. Stu may exaggerate every once in awhile, but I don’t think he’s wrong about school. My mom has been fielding calls since the morning I was discharged from the hospital and last night while I was flipping through channels, I saw my face three times.

Before I can even think, a bright flash makes me flinch. The light is like a punch behind the eye thanks to my headache. That is followed by a series of other equally bright and irritating camera shutters. 

Shit. 

Billy steps towards me, dropping his voice so that only I can hear, “You know we don’t have to.” 

Taking a settling breath, I tilt my chin up a fraction of an inch. “It’s fine,” I say, hoping that I’ll convince myself, “Can’t hide forever.” 

We walk forward, me a few steps ahead of Billy and Stu. My fast pace is a sad attempt at ripping off the bandaid. 

“Excuse--Excuse me, miss!” I squeeze the strap of my backpack so tightly my knuckles must be white from the tension. “Miss Y/n L/n.” The woman that waves me down is holding a large microphone. She barely glances at me before turning her attention back to the camera man that followed her as she chased me. “Hi. Gale Weathers. I covered the last one of these.” 

I wince. “I’m sorry, when you say ‘the last one of these’ do you mean the last murder or--” 

“...And we’re rolling!” In nature, bright colors are meant to warn living things of poison. I think that logic could be applied to Gale Weathers and her auburn hair and blood red lips. “I’m Gale Weathers and I’m bringing you an exclusive with the lone survivor of what some are calling the worst murder in Woodsboro history.” She then turns towards me, “Now, Y/n, our viewers want to know exactly what you’re feeling.” 

Her microphone is way to close to my face. “Well, Gale, I’m glad you asked,” I’m speaking in the polite tone I used to reserve for rude customers when I worked in the mall last summer, “I’m feeling fan-freakin’-tastic!” 

The false enthusiasm jars her the way I hoped it would. She brings the microphone back to her. “Really?” 

“No, you vulture. Ambush interviewing is as tacky as that suit.” 

With that, I turn away and attempt to storm into school with an aura that scares away reporters. I’ve only ever seen that kind of confident magic come from my mom, but she’s half my genetic material, that means it must be in me somewhere, right?

Apparently wrong, because the cameras continue to flash. One man gets so close to me that his rapid photographing leaves me dizzy. 

“Okay,” an arm quickly wraps around my side, stabilizing me, “You got your pictures, now leave her alone.” The scent of Tatum’s perfume is comforting as she guides me the rest of the way inside. Once we’re inside, we’re granted the semblance of some privacy. “And I thought they were bad yesterday. Are you okay?” 

I nod, relaxing a little at her casual expression. Maybe if I try hard enough, I’ll be able to pretend that this is an average Tuesday. “I’m fine, I’m just tired, and I can’t believe how obsessed everyone is.” 

“Of course they’re obsessed.” For the first time ever, Randy’s voice is completely unwelcome. “You’re the sole survivor, the only witness to tell the story, the--for lack of better term--final girl.” 

Being in a friend group with so many people that are really into horror movies is all fun and games until they summarize the great trauma of your life in a movie trope. “Really? I never would have thought of it that way.” 

Sidney glares at Randy in defense of me. I appreciate it, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. “It’s too soon for those kinds of jokes.” 

My sarcasm was pure venom and Sidney’s reaction, though well intentioned, only made me feel sorry. Randy offers me a sheepish sort of look that immediately makes me feel bad for being so snippy. His comment wouldn’t have bothered me so much if it wasn’t for what just happened, and he wasn’t really trying to be mean. That actually might have been an attempt to lighten the mood, especially since he knows that the final girl storyline is one of my favorites. He’s always recommending movies that end like that. 

“Thanks, Sid, but I came on a little strong. I’m sorry, Randy, I’ve been a total nightmare all day. Just ask Billy and St--” I look around, a little surprised that they’re not right behind me. Aw, I lost them in all that commotion. “Weird--they were just behind me.” Shaking off the slightly lost feeling with the turn of my head, I move on, “Ask them later. The point is, I’ve been awful. It’s not your guys’ fault that this is my life right now.” 

Randy’s expression morphs from being almost hurt to something that’s even more of a punch in the gut. He seems sympathetic. “It’s okay, you’re holding it together way more than I would be. I don’t even know how you’re at school today.” 

“Yeah, how are you even here, Y/n?” Tatum echoes, her voice a little softer than before. 

It’s a good question. Now that I’m here all those points I made about school and grades and Princeton feel so far away. “It had to happen at some point, I might as well rip off the band aid. I just want everything to go back to normal.” I shift awkwardly, watching them watch me. “And the man that did this doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of my fear.” 

After a moment, Randy prompts, “...And?” 

“And what?” 

He half smiles. “Come on, Y/n, if you want this to feel normal, you’re going to have to give us the Princeton rant.” 

I roll my eyes before scoffing. “I do not talk about Princeton often enough for you to warrant naming it a specific rant.” 

Randy raises an eyebrow at my obvious lie. “You must have really hit your head hard.” 

“Rude.“ I turn towards Tatum, “Tate, you don’t think I’m like obsessed with Princeton.

She parts her lips as she debates the way she wants to respond. Before she can say anything, Stu walks up from behind me and pulls Tatum into a hug. He then gives her a soft kiss that feels linger-y. Wait--why am I noticing that? That’s...that’s weird of me. And why does this feel more uncomfortable than the time I caught them full on making out in the girl’s bathroom? Why is that tiny display of affection sitting in my chest in a way that makes it hard to look at them? 

More annoyed at my thoughts than the way Stu cups her face, I force my myself to stare at the locker in front of me. There are polaroids of people I don’t know tapped to the front of it.

Ugh--screw the guy that threw me into that wall. My head must be totally messing with me. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Billy’s sudden appearance surprises me more than it should. At this point, I should know that when I see one the other isn’t too far behind. He has an arm around Sidney’s shoulders, and she’s leaning into his touch just enough for it to be noticeable. Since when is Billy so into PDA? 

Oh my god, what’s wrong with me? Maybe my mom was right to think I have some kind of brain injury. My eyes snap back to the locker. “Nothing.”

“Y/n’s obsession with an Ivy League school in New Jersey.”

After a moment of silence, I realize that everyone’s waiting for me to speak. “Not an obsession.” My response lacks my usual level of conviction when talking about Princeton in any capacity. I can feel the fragile way they’re all looking at me. My eyes focus on the polaroids in front of me until everything else blurs into the background. 

The polaroids have my eyes watering and I don’t know why. They’re just stupid pictures of people I don’t know. Casey’s voice echoes in my head. It’s a punch in the gut.

Stu’s voice cuts through the static of my thoughts. “Y/n? Are you o--”

“I think I remembered something.” The admission is so low I’m surprised anyone hears it. “Randy, do you have a copy of the news article? Not the first one, the second one that lists everything found at the crime scene?” 

“Yeah,” Randy admits it like it’s an apology, “In my backpack.” 

“Can I see it?”

Everyone stays quiet at that. There’s an energy in the air that makes me feel as trapped as I did in the hospital. “Come on, guys, I don’t need to be babied. The pictures aren’t going to freak me out, I was kinda there for the real thing.” 

“At the hospital, didn’t you say you were unconscious for most of it?” Billy’s remark earns him a glare so harsh that he moves his hands to hold them up in defense before dropping them to his side. 

“Fine. Whatever. Don’t show me the newspaper, I’ll find my own copy, it’s everywhere. There’s a good chance some jag-off shoved one into my locker anyways.” Ugh--why is everyone so impossible? I turn on my heels, unsure if I’m fuming or ready to burst into tears.

I don’t even make it a full step before something locks around my upper forearm. My head snaps back as the hand’s sudden grip softens. “Come on, bug.” That leaves me hesitant. Stu called me that the day after we first met. Since then, the nickname has mainly been reserved to calm me down. I’ve asked him about it before, but he always refuses to explain it. “You’re just going to make yourself sick.” 

Biting the inside of my cheek, I frown. The group learned about my weak stomach early on in our friendship. My first night drinking with them ended with me throwing up in Stu’s bathroom. That wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if I was totally wasted, but I was objectively way too sober to get that sick.

There’s some underlying quality to his words. A quality that’s too knowing, too sure. He’s being more condescending than sweet. “I think I can manage.” I pull my arm away, ignoring the way his expression blanks. “I’m not a vase or a little kid, I don’t need you all treating me like I’m that unbelievably fragile.”

Stu angles his head to the side. I force myself to tilt my chin upwards in an attempt to stand my ground. I don’t fully get whatever face off we’re in, but I’ll be damned if I lose it this quickly. “Since you’re all grown up, Y/n, look at whatever you want, but don’t come crying to me about it.” 

I take a step forward, indignation leaving my spine straight. “When have I ever--” 

“You couldn’t even spend a few hours by yourself in a hospital.”

The unfairness of his statement forces a scoff from my lips. I take a step forward. “I didn’t ask for your help then and I’m not asking for it now.” 

“Stu.” Billy’s voice is level, bordering on neutral. 

At that, Stu exhales, but he doesn’t stop staring at me. “It’s fine, Billy.” 

“Yeah,” Stu echoes, shifting towards me, “Y/n’s fine, she doesn’t need anyone.” 

A sarcastic, half thought out reply rises up my chest and jams itself in my throat. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about how much taller than me Stu is. He’s looking down at me with an intensity that hits me straight in the stomach. Great, another feeling I don’t understand. “Whatever,” I mumble, “I need to get to class.” 

The bell rings a moment after I turn. I walk to homeroom, not thinking twice about it until I’m sitting in front of an empty desk. 

My face is hot, my head hurts, and Mrs. Ramirez’s announcements are drowned out by a ringing in my ears. When the bell rings, I can’t get out of the room fast enough. Normally, Stu’s around right after homeroom, ready to walk me to math. 

I don’t know what that weird argument was in the hallway, but I’m not ready to deal with it yet. So even though I’m gripping the straps of my backpack so tightly it hurts, I take the long way to class. There are no memories of Casey in AP Calc AB, so this time when I sit at my desk, I can breathe.

By the time I’m pulling out my notebook, the bell rings. Mr. Williams walks to the front of the classroom, “Alright, everyone in their seat. For today’s exam, you are permitted the use of a graphing calculator.”

Shit. The test. I forgot about the calc test. Mr. Williams begins to hand out the exam. When he gets to me, I stop him, “Mr. Williams, I-I was wondering if I could possibly take the exam on another day? After the events of this weekend, I--” 

“Ms. L/n, I made it clear to the entire class that I do not believe in scheduling a makeup exam the day of.” 

My fingers nervously scratch at the back of my wrist. “And I understand that, and normally I’d never ask, but if you’ve seen the news--” 

“Ms. L/n, do you want to take the test or would you rather me put a 0 in the grade book?” 

I could scream. I want to scream, but instead, all I do is nod, “Take the test.” 

And with that, he places the packet on my desk. The sound it makes feels like a death sentence. The next 50 minutes are a nightmare. I don’t remember how to do half the problems, and what I do remember, I can’t seem to do right. By the time the bell rings, I’m in full on panic mode. Mr. Williams collects the test and I leave the room like it’s on fire. 

The sharp pain in my head has never been this bad. I reach my locker, unlocking it to grab my bottle of ibuprofen. I take two Advil without any water. Today totally, unbelievably sucks. I need to splash some water in my face. 

The bathroom is thankfully empty. Pushing my backpack off of my shoulders and onto the counter, I turn on the sink. The water is cool against my fingers, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe. My bandaid is sticking out to me too much so I force my gaze downwards. 

There’s a long abandoned copy of a newspaper on the counter. Its corners are so wet that the words at the start and end of the article are unreadable. The page it’s opened to has no photos. I’m sure if I flipped through it I’d find something listing everything the police found inside the house that night. 

Stu’s earlier claim echoes in my head as I pick up the newspaper. I’m not sure if I’m more motivated by spite or the desire to answer the question in my head, but I guess it doesn’t matter, because the end result is the same. I turn the page, skimming the article. The intro is so long that I still haven’t gotten to the murder, let alone what the police found after. I flip ahead until I find what I’m looking for.

I read the section about everything that was found twice. They mention everything down to the burned jiffy pop and the tube of lipgloss Casey left in the living room. The paragraph never mentions the polaroids from the kitchen.

He took pictures of me from the crime scene. 

Unease leaves my stomach in knots. The killer, who talked to me on the phone like we were best friends and chose to not kill me took photos of me. 

I turn the page frantically, desperate to see if the polaroids are mentioned there. Big mistake. Casey’s photo is staring at me, but she’s not her in it. She’s hanging from that big tree in her yard and her--her intestines... 

Cold sweat leaves my hands clammy. My body knows what’s happening before I do. A stall door gets thrown open just in time for me to throw myself onto my knees. Bile and whatever’s left of last night’s dinner burn as they come up my throat. I wretch. 

An unexpected but not unpleasant touch is pressed into my back as my hair is pushed out of my face. More bile leaves me. 

After a second passes and I don’t throw up a third time, I turn my head just enough to see who’s next to me. Billy. He doesn’t say anything at my recognition, he just moves his hand up and down my back gently. 

“...I found a newspaper.” 

“Yeah, I assumed after i heard the…”

He’s trailing off to be nice. I shift in order to sit cross legged on the floor. “Right. That’s fair.” 

His hand stalls against my back. “I didn’t mean it li--” 

“I know.” My voice is too small.

Billy moves his free hand. I don’t know what he’s doing until he’s pulling the paper away from me. I let him take the newspaper and place it somewhere on the other side of him. “Why’d you look?” 

“I--earlier, I was looking at this locker in front of us and it had polaroids taped to it, and-and that made me remember that on Saturday, Casey took a bunch of pictures of me. Polaroids.” I wipe at my face with the back of my palm. "The article’s super detailed, but it didn’t mention any pictures. I-I think that means that the person took them.”  

Billy’s eyebrows draw together. The corner of his mouth turns downwards. “You’re making yourself sick over this.” 

“Because it’s a big deal!” My reaction is harsher than it should be. He’s being nice to me after I blew up at everyone this morning and they were just trying to be good friends. And after this, I’m in no position to talk about what I am and am not able to handle. “It’s a big deal that I’m alive and Casey isn’t.” Taking a shaky breath, I continue, “And I should--I have to make it right somehow. Casey’s dead and I’m alive because it fit whatever plot he wanted to make. It was total chance, the killer probably flipped a coin while outside of her house to pick which one of us would live and which one would end up like...” I gesture vaguely in the direction of the newspaper, “That.” 

He’s quiet for so long I think he may not respond at all. His hand begins to move up and down my back again in the form of small circles. “Do you really think that?” 

Shrugging, I lean into his touch. “I mean, it’s probably either that or a stalker scenario.”

“You don’t have to figure it out. Just because you’re the one that survived doesn’t mean you need to put yourself through this. Especially now. It just happened, give yourself some time.” His voice is so assuring and oddly comforting I feel my eyes water. “What’s wrong?” 

Despite myself, I almost snort. “I think you know what’s wrong.” 

He gives me a semi bitchy look. “Something else happened, I can see it on your face.” 

Frowning, I let my gaze drop to the ground. “Am I that transparent?” 

Billy moves, the hand that’s not on my back coming beneath my chin. I let him tilt my head upwards until our eyes meet. “You have no idea.”

Warmth crawls up my face. He smiles. “Fine, I’ll tell you but it’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve had a really bad headache all day and then I get to first period and Mr. Williams starts talking about an exam. And that’s how I realized that I completely forgot about the calc unit test. I tried using the whole almost murdered excuse--I kinda hated myself for it, but it doesn’t matter, because he didn’t even go for it.” With a dramatic, deprecating sigh, I start to pick at a loose thread in my shoe lace. “Mr. Williams doesn’t believe in getting out of the test the day of. There’s no way I didn’t fail it, and it’s an AP class so that’s going to mess with my entire GPA.” 

He doesn’t comment on my teariness or the way that I almost sniffle, he just continues to softly rub my back. The gesture is starting to feel somewhat maternal, but it’s nice. “He made you take the test?” 

“Mr. Williams’ is a total asshole.” 

Billy’s mouth turns upwards, “He sounds like it.” I smile, leaning into his touch. “You should go back to the doctor.” He frowns when I move away from him. “Your head hurts, you’re moody--” 

“Am not.” 

“Right, because that stand off with Stu earlier was like you.” 

Right--that weird moment in the hallway. Great, Stu’s probably mad at me, and there’s no way that me going out of my way to not see him before math is something he’s going to take lightly. “He’s probably so mad at me.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Billy says, “He can’t stay mad at you.” 

I give him a look. “He’s petty.” 

Billy smiles after a second. “He’ll be petty about it, but he won’t actually be mad.” Before I can respond, Billy stands, “Come on, you need to go to a doctor.” 

After a second, I stand, taking his hand. “Fine.” 

----

Taglist: @cole22ann @i-amnotokaywiththis 

#scream #scream x reader #scream 1996 #scream imagine #ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #x reader #final girl fic #slasher fic #slasher x reader

[jakekiszkaenthusiast]

apartment 17- j.t.k & j.m.k

warnings: SMUT, threesomes (absolutely not twincest get the fuck outta here), unprotected sex, lil bit of degradation. 

author’s note: man i hope this is good, i’ve never written something like this ahhh love you all! 

“why do i have to be the one to ask?”

“because i’m making sure this chocolate doesn’t burn.”

“i’m in my pyjamas, for fuck’s sake!”

“just hurry! they won’t care.”

“you owe me so fucking much. you’re still gonna be making up for this in the retirement home, okay?”

you reluctantly trudge out of your apartment, sighing once the door shuts behind you. there was no way this was happening. despite it being a massive stereotype, no one had ever actually asked their neighbour for sugar- it just didn’t happen in real life, and you weren’t exactly pleased to be the one naively knocking on a door and subsequently turned away.

you squeeze your eyes shut as you lift your hand up to the door of apartment 17. the two boys living there had always been friendly, had always invited you in for drinks, said hello in the elevator and had even helped you and your roommate move in once upon a time. still, you didn’t want to show up on their doorstep wearing bunny rabbit slippers and a tank top so sheer it should really be thrown away. it was embarrassing.

after you knock, you’re left waiting for so long you almost decide to turn away and go back home. maybe they aren’t home. you’d silently admit to yourself that you hoped that was so- then at least you’d be saved the humiliation of the attractive rockstars living down the corridor from you seeing your frilly pink sleep shorts.

you hear shuffling, and then a lock click out of place. damn, you aren’t getting out of this so easily. the door slides open to reveal jake, and your stomach drops. he looks good, his hair casually thrown back into a loose bun, while he wears a tattered and thin band shirt and tight black jeans.

his lips tug into a smirk as he looks you over, much to your dismay.

“well, if it isn’t the bunny from apartment 15.” his voice rasps, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

“bunny?” you ask, immediately feeling stupid when he points a long finger at your slippers.

“josh, the bunny is here. come say hi.” jake leans back to call out into his apartment, flashing you a smile full of something you couldn’t quite name.

footsteps sound, and josh soon makes his appearance. he smiles brightly as he sees your face, but when his eyes travel over your skimpy attire, his lips curl into something more akin to the smirk already belonging to his twin.

“hello there, bunny, was it?” josh teases, resting his hand high on the other side of the doorframe.

they’re both looking at you with unblinking eyes and crooked smiles, and you’re not sure you can remember why you came here in the first place. you try to find the words, searching the draws of vocabulary tucked away in the back of your mind, but they’re empty.

“well, what is it you need? or did you just come here to look pretty for us?” jake asks, lifting his eyebrows expectantly.

“sugar.” you mumble, eyes darting between their faces. you weren’t sure where to look, in all honesty.

“i need to- uh- to borrow some sugar.” you finally find your footing in the conversation, much to your silent relief.

both men let out similar sounds from the back of their throats, looking at each other for a brief moment in which something silent transpires between them. they shift from their positions against the doorway and jake inclines his head to you.

“come on in, josh will find some.”

something about the way jake tells you to come in makes you do it with no second thought, and you quickly remind yourself of a farm animal being led to slaughter when the door clicks shut behind you. you stand in their open-plan apartment, very similar to yours, in a blank daze, while josh shuffles around in the kitchen.

“are you baking a cake?” josh asks, his back to you.

you flicker to life, and lean yourself against the kitchen counter. it’s cold, it helps you to focus on something other than the sudden warmth of your skin.

“my roommate is. chocolate.” you answer as best you can, though jake’s sudden presence by your side makes it difficult to focus on anything, much less speaking coherently.

“y’know, since we’re giving you the sugar, i think we should be allowed to have a taste.” jake murmurs, and you can’t quite discern if there’s a hidden tone behind his words, or if you’re just so flustered you’re imagining it.

josh hums in agreement, still rifling around the cupboards in front of him.

“you’re more than welcome to come over and have a slice, guys. you’re always welcome at our place.”

“i’m not so sure i want cake, though.” jake leans into your side, letting out a quiet laugh at the shiver which runs through your body.

you’re still convinced you’re making up the suggestive lilt in his words, but something flashes to life deep in the pit of your stomach at the mere idea.

“yeah, i don’t really feel like cake, either.” josh grabs your attention, holding an unopened bag of sugar in his large hand.

maybe you weren’t making it up- the dark look in josh’s eyes isn’t subtle, and it makes your stomach tumble with excitement. a faint waft of cologne and cigarettes every time jake moves his head clouds your senses, until you’re shifting a little closer to get even more of the delicious smell.

“what do you want, then?” you ask, gingerly prodding at the unspoken thing blossoming in the suddenly too-small room.

“i think you know, bunny.” jake whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

his hand moves from your ear to the curve of your shoulder, tracing a single circle before continuing down your spine. he stops at the small of your back, walking his fingers along to your waist and wrapping his hand around it, taking a firm grip of you.

your breath catches in your throat. you let jake pull you tightly to his side, trying to ignore his fingers softly dipping below the waistline of your shorts with every circle he draws into your skin. josh watches your face change, carefully calculating how he’d fit into this situation.

you straighten up, no longer leaning on the counter, pulling jake with you. you reach out a hand to josh, and he quickly abandons the bag of sugar in favour of rushing over to you. you wriggle in jake’s grip until your back is pressed against his chest- it gives you the opportunity to grab josh’s arm and tug him closer to you, suddenly very desperate to have them both as near to you as possible.

josh is tentative when he touches your cheek, his thumb brushing over the hollows of your cheekbones, but jake is rough. it’s a big contrast, the delicate ghosting of josh’s fingers on your face, while jake tightly grips your stomach and presses you tighter against his body. he runs his calloused fingers wherever he can reach, over your abdomen, the tops of your thighs, before finally resting on your collarbones. he stretches his fingers until they just barely touch the column of your throat, and you wish he’d just wrap his whole hand around it and render you breathless with one tight squeeze.

“kiss me.” you breathe out, pleading with one of them to do something other than stroke your skin.

you tighten your grip on josh’s forearm and try to pull him close, feeling jake bury his head in the crook of your neck.

“who do you want to kiss first, angel?” jake whispers against your skin, making you shiver.

you lunge forward, as best you can with jake’s arm wrapped around you, and meet josh. you give him no time to prepare before you crash your lips against his. he staggers for a brief moment, quickly threading his hand with the hair on the side of your head.

“oh, josh, i think we have a desperate little girl on our hands. couldn’t even answer my question.” jake laughs, travelling his hand down to clutch at your hips.

josh smiles into the kiss, cracking open his eye to give jake a look complete with an affirmative quirk of his eyebrows. he melts back into your mouth, running his tongue along your bottom lip.

when jake sucks a kiss into the curve of your throat, you gasp out loud. josh takes the advantage of your open mouth to deepen the kiss, somehow pulling your face even closer to his. he tasted just the faintest bit like weed, a lingering memory of some point in his evening.

you reach a hand behind to touch jake’s hair, to run his soft tendrils through your fingers, as you had thought about many times in the months of knowing him. he makes a quiet noise, and you store the information that he enjoys having his hair touched in the back of your head, for later.

jake swaps between kisses and licks at your throat and jaw, while josh still chases your tongue with his own, tangling his fingers with your hair. you pull away to gasp for air, giving them both an exhilarated smile before twisting your head to capture jake’s mouth in a fast kiss.

josh trails a finger down the side of your face and along your throat, lower and lower until he finds your thin shirt. his finger brushes over the fullness of your breast and then to your nipple gently, before he pinches it harshly between forefinger and thumb. you let out a high-pitched whine into jake’s mouth, feeling the long haired twin shift his hips against your ass.

jake grips your chin and pulls you away from his face, ignoring your attempts to chase his mouth and casting his eyes on josh. they have another one of those silent conversations, while you try to catch your breath. it’s no use- you’re so thoroughly overwhelmed now there’s no way you could settle down, so you take to running your hand down josh’s front to cup his half-hard cock.

they both seem to click back on, moving in synchrony to manoeuvre you until you’re leaning back against the counter and sadly missing the warmth of either of their bodies pressed against yours. you shuffle to kick off the stupid bunny slippers, sending them flying across the room with a silent thud.

“jump, sweetheart.” josh murmurs, holding onto your waist to carefully guide you to sit on the counter. jake lays his hand flat against your chest and pushes you down until you’re lying back- you shuffle to rest up on your elbows, lest you miss a second of either of their beautiful faces.

they don’t move, simply standing shoulder to shoulder and looking at you. you feel like a piece of art in an exhibition under their watchful gazes, and quickly feel that uncontrollable desperation under your skin again. you shift and wriggle, pressing a hand over your face and quickly snapping your legs shut when you realise they’re splayed open for all to see.

“oh, honey. don’t hide away from us. c’mon, open your legs again.” josh coos, smoothing a hand over your knee.

“let us in, baby.” jake says quietly, grabbing the hand covering your face with just a little more force than his brother, pulling it away to reveal your bright red face.

“and now your legs, open up for us.” josh, you think, says. you can’t be too sure, your eyes are squeezed shut.

slowly and uncertainly, you let your legs fall open again. they both make sounds of approval, and josh’s hand swiftly makes its way along your thigh, squeezing and kneading your flesh as he went.

“let’s take these clothes off, hm?” one of them says, and soon four hands are pulling at your thin shorts and your top. you’re naked before you can take a full breath in, clutching your hands over your chest despite the tight hand wrapped around your wrist.

you’re overcome with the desperate need to hide again, snap your legs shut and cower away from their amused smirks. it’s like they know what you’re about to do, because josh pushes your knee all the way down until it touches the cold counter.

“don’t even think about it.” jake warns, before dropping to his knees.

you let out a startled gasp at the feeling of his teeth sinking into your inner thigh, and make an even louder sound when his tongue finds its way against your cunt. he licks a languid stripe over you, pressing his hands down on your stomach when your hips shoot up at the sensitive contact. he gently suckles on your clit, groaning loudly into your skin.

“fuck. josh, come taste her- she’s so sweet.” jake pulls away, urging his brother to swap places.

josh crouches down until his head is between your legs. his eyes flick up to meet yours, a burning intensity you couldn’t shy away from even if you tried, because jake had taken a handful of your hair and made sure you were looking at josh.

“watch him, baby.” he whispers, pressing his lips against the side of your head.

josh lays a gentle kiss just above your clit, before sticking out his tongue and lapping it at your entrance. his tongue dances and explores across your skin, losing himself in the taste of you.

“you were right, jake. she’s fucking delectable.” josh mutters, pressing a kiss to your thigh as he looks up at his brother.

“the only one who hasn’t had a taste is you, bunny. stick out your tongue.” jake runs a thumb over your bottom lip, dipping it into your mouth until you push your tongue out.

he leans down and lets a drop of spit fall from his lips, making sure you catch it. he pushes your jaw shut and covers your mouth, smiling down at you with a soft look in his eyes, nowhere near as delicate as his actions.

“swallow it like a good girl. well done, bunny.” his voice is raspy and low, and it almost distracts you until josh sucks harshly on your clit.

your eyes widen and you gasp, staring down at him with dumbfounded amazement. he slides a finger inside of you, a loud and startled whine falling away from your mouth. his finger curls into your sweet spot, his eyes watching how your jaw hangs open while an amused smirk pulls at the corners of his mouth. you clamp your mouth shut, scared to make any more noise.

“be louder, baby. tell my brother how good he’s making you feel.”

you let out another moan, and let your chin fall to your chest. you’re mesmerised by the way josh’s mouth moves, how his tongue swirls and flicks at your clit, how his finger massages that perfect spot buried deep inside of you. the pressure is building in the base of your stomach, a white hot bolt of energy threatening to explode until you’re lost in the blinding haze.

“is our girl gonna cum?” jake asks, his grip on your hair tightening in anticipation.

rapidly you nod, another sound you don’t recognise ripping from your chest as josh works you closer and closer into that delicate crescendo of pleasure you so badly needed.

“do it, then. cum all over his face like a well-behaved slut and tell us how good it feels.”

“it feels so fucking good- fuck, i’m so close.” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

the pressure is so intense and so close, you can hardly stand it, your hips lifting and your thighs fighting to stay open. you want to clamp them around josh’s head and keep him there, ride out your orgasm against his face, for fear of him pulling away and not allowing you your release.

“please don’t stop.” you force out pathetically, leaning more and more into jake’s hold as you melt into your pleasure.

josh keeps up his pace, and you suddenly topple into the feeling. a high-pitched moan falls from your lips, your hips involuntarily grinding against his tongue, while jake lets out a quiet groan at the scene before him.

“you look so pretty when you cum, baby.” jake whispers.

you reach up for jake’s face, pulling him down to meet your mouth in a desperate kiss while you moan loudly into him. you just needed him to do something, give you some type of comfort while you’re lost and floating in the pleasure josh is bringing you- jake readily accepts your rough tongue trying to find his, letting you do what you like in your moment of hazy desperation.

“cmon, on your feet.” josh softly smacks the side of your thigh, getting to his feet and holding out his hand for you. he pulls you off the counter, quietly chuckling when your legs barely support your weight.

“i think it’s time jake got to play with you.” he murmured, sending a swift slap to your ass before he pushes you towards the couch.

“you can do whatever you like.” you gasp out, letting yourself collapse onto the couch and sending a coy smile in jake’s direction.

“in that case, get up on your knees. face away and look at josh.” jake commands, grabbing your hips to pull you up before you have the chance.

he pushes you up until your elbows rest on the edge of the couch, sliding a knee between your thighs and forcing them open from behind. you hear the clink of his belt and the glide of his zipper. his large, warm hand massages your ass, while the feeling of the head of his cock nudging your entrance makes your shoulders stiffen.

the lewd sound of jake spitting fills your ears, and suddenly he’s filling you up, a slow and gentle glide stretching you out until you feel so full you have to press a hand against your stomach.

“do you feel me there, baby? all filled up with my cock?” jake’s voice is low and slightly strained, as if he’s exerting a mighty amount of energy into controlling himself.

in response, you push your hips back, a silent plea for him to start moving and give you that friction you needed. with a quiet groan, he thrusts into you once, then twice, and then he loses any of the control he had been reserving and moves with such force you can’t imagine ever feeling anything but jake.

he runs a hand along your spine, taking a handful of your hair and pulling your head up from its position on the couch cushions. your eyes meet josh’s. he’s smiling down at you, cocking his head to the side when your eyebrows knot together after an especially sharp thrust.

“how does she feel, jake?” josh asks, resting a hand under your chin and stroking your jaw.

“as good as we talked about. she’s so fucking tight.” jake pants, his hips still slapping against the backs of your thighs.

“we’ve wanted to play with you for a little while, y’know. teasing little slut in those tight dresses and short skirts.” josh murmured, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips before pulling away again.

“let me taste you, josh, please?” you whine, clenching down on jake’s cock momentarily, earning a sore handprint on your ass.

“since you asked so nicely, angel.”

josh undoes his pants, slowly revealing himself to your awaiting mouth. he presses the tip of his cock against your lips, staring down at you with a quirked eyebrow until you stick your tongue out for him.

“let’s see if you look as pretty as we said you would sucking cock.”

he takes no time filling your mouth, smirking when you choke on his length. his cock hits the back of your throat; he pulls his hips back, and shoves himself in your mouth once more. both men move in accidental synchrony, one in, one out, until you’re barely aware of your surroundings. all you can think of is them, their scents, their noises, their cocks. it’s a delightful kind of daze, and you find yourself wishing it could never end.

jake lets out a strangled groan, his fingers digging into your hips until his blunt nails create tiny crescent moon-shaped indentations in your skin. he’s close, you can feel it in the way his cock twitches inside of you, brushing your sweet spot repetitively. you know you’re almost there too, you feel that familiar tension in your stomach again.

“keep sucking my cock, sweetheart. you’re doing such a good job, taking us both so well, aren’t you?”

josh’s words push you over the edge. you moan as best you can around his cock while you clench down on jake’s, feeling your thighs shake as jake has to hold you up. the force of your orgasm takes every ounce of your strength- the pleasure is too much.

jake slams his cock into you, speeding up as he chases his own high, a hushed moan falling from his lips. you decide it’s a sound you’d pay good money to hear over and over again, until josh makes a sound of his own. hearing them both nearing their ends at the same time, that beautiful harmony of moans and pants from behind and in front of you, makes excitement flutter in your chest.

you work your mouth over josh with more vigour, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks, earning the reward of an even louder moan. jake suddenly stills his hips, his head dropping down to rest between your shoulder blades.

his cock twitches inside of you as he cums, and you feel his lips press kisses up and down the back of your neck. josh gasps, grabbing the back of your head and moving you faster over his cock, until you finally taste him on your tongue. you swallow him down eagerly, and tenderly kitten-lick his sensitive head until he hisses and pulls away altogether.

you can’t help the slightly mournful look on your face as you watch josh tuck himself back into his pants, and he pouts back at you in a faux smile.

“don’t worry, love. i’ll have my turn with you soon- you won’t need to ask for sugar next time.” he teases, softly taking your chin with one finger and pressing a kiss to your sad lips.

“the sugar- fuck. she’s gonna kill me.” you suddenly remember the very reason you came here, an anxious energy taking hold of your throat.

“we’ll give her a tardy slip, tell her you just got distracted.” jake says, sliding out of you, much to your dismay. you let out a tiny, pathetic sound at the loss of him inside of you, looking back at his red face with an even deeper pout.

“can you really say she got distracted if she’s gone for hours?” josh asked his brother, your eyebrows creasing.

“what do you mean?” you ask, pushing yourself off the couch to lean your body into jakes side. he wraps his arm around your waist and holds you up.

“oh, we’re not done with you, bunny.”

#greta van fleet #fanfiction #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #greta van fic #josh kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka x reader #jake kiszka x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

If You Can't Dance 5

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is what you get when you encourage me. Please leave any and all feedback! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Part of The Club AU

You realise too late you have no idea where you’re going or what you’re doing. You just needed to be free of your humiliation. You find a room with a facilities placard on the door and dip inside. The bathroom is empty as you pump the lever on the paper towel dispenser. You take the length of two ply and fold it until it’s thick enough to sop up the tea on your shirt.

Not wanting to further embarrass yourself, you keep it in hand, keeping up the act of drying yourself as you make yourself back to the conference room. You can hear Jonathan’s voice on the other side. You take the opportunity to squeeze in the door and avoid looking at anyone as you tiptoe back to the table.

G is standing by your chair, slightly bent as he uses napkins to clean up the droplets of tea. There’s a fresh cup just to the side with a new teabag in steaming water. He looks up as you approach and you mouth a thanks as he switches your chair with a dry one. You sit and he pushes the new cup towards you.

You cup your cheeks, elbows on the table as you try to focus. There’s movement at the edge of your vision. You peek over and see G twisting a ring on his finger. He doesn’t seem as anxious as he does disinterested.

Your chest aches as you heat continues to hammer. You teeter on the precipice of doom. This is why you work from home, why you stay inside. You don’t associate with people because you’re not like them. You’re stupid and lame and you don’t belong.

You feel yourself shaking as your eyes sting. No, you won’t cry. You’re not in high school any more. You’re at work. You need to just get through this. Like an adult.

You realise how you haven’t taken in a word of what Jonathan’s said. It’s made all the more obvious as his eyes meet yours and the corners of his lips twitch. You gulp and quickly flick your gaze down to the table. You’re making all the wrong choices today.

You concentrate on the steam rising from the tea, listening to Jonathan’s voice as he presses on. He has that sort of confidence that you aspire to, the type you’ll never have. He is the type that makes you feel so small.

🖱️

Just after noon, there’s a break for everyone to top up their coffee or tea and claim some of the sandwiches brought in for lunch. You’re not very hungry so you stay at your table. G disappears but doesn’t head for the table of food. You don’t linger on his absence, even his presence isn’t very noticeable.

“Pardon,” a voice draws you out of your dread. You lift your head and look past Jonathan as he puts his hand on the back of an empty chair, “do you mind if I sit?”

You shake your head and tuck your chin down. You stare at your folded hands as he pulls the chair back and sits. He puts down a cup and plate with a croissant sandwich. He doesn’t touch either as you languish in silence.

“I’ve been talking all day it seems, it’s nice to have a break,” he intones.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

“What about you? Not hungry?” He prompts.

You shake your head again. His long fingers flutter over the table top. He shifts in his chair.

“You got your peppermint tea,” he points to the tag dangling from the tea bag.

“Uh, yeah.”

Your blunt answer and lack of explanation has him quiet again. He traces two fingers in a circle. He clears his throat.

“Are you alright? That tea must’ve been hot. I wish I’d had the chance to check earlier but you were so quick–”

“Fine,” you insist, “just hot water.”

“Of course,” he accepts kindly, “I’m not meaning to embarrass you.”

“I wasn’t embarrassed,” you lie and grab your empty cup, drawing it closer.

“Right, of course, just an unfortunate accident,” he says, “we’ll have a little longer here and then after, we will show you all to your work spaces. I suppose you’re eager to settle in.”

You nod. You’re not eager at all. You don’t want to work here, you want to be at home. Why does he have to change everything? And why does he have to make it all seem like he’s helping?

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a bite to eat? Maybe grab something before they’re all gone. You could save it for later,” he offers.

“No, thank you,” you say to the table.

You flinch as a shadow appears across from Jonathan. G sits down with a word. He pulls out his phone and scrolls. Jonathan stares at him, almost expectantly, but getting nothing he clears his throat.

“Hello, G, was it? Jonathan, it’s nice to have you on our team,” Jonathan says with his usual charm.

With no response, not even a glance, Jonathan opts instead to pick up his sandwich. He nibbles the edge as you set in the sludge of tension at the table. You peek at him and he gives you a sheepish smile.

“Um,” you crumple the paper cup in your hand unthinkingly, “I’m going to throw this out.”

You stand up, happy to have an excuse to escape. You can’t say who’s worse; the one who never talks or the one who talks too much. Together, they are the perfect storm of nope.

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #if you can't dance #the club #au #the night manager #drabble #series

[kaysters247]

So I’ve started a story about Patrick, and wanted to start sharing it on here! I also have it on Wattpad under the name Kaylakuy and the story is called Deadly Inferno. Let me know what you think so far!

Warning: Mature Themes

Word Count: 1104

Part 1 - The Bowers Gang Girl

Summer nights in this hellhole of a house felt entirely endless as the days and nights dragged on. Staring at myself in the mirror with the consistent cigarette burns and bruises that were imprinted fingerprints in my skin were the norm. With my bedroom door locked and window open, the curtains I've had up for what felt like years slightly ruffling about from the subtle morning breeze, I stared at myself in the body length mirror my mom once got me. Mom.... I missed her more than anything. But at the same time, I hated her guts. Leaving Henry and I like she did because she couldn't handle our dads stupid ass was ridiculous. She abandoned us. And look at us now. Henry's so lost in this darkness he can't seem to get out of, not that he wants to. And I just simply do my own thing, smoke in private with Beverly who sneaks me cigs when she can, burning my own skin because it was an ounce of pleasure I somehow enjoyed. Pain. It was something to feel. And I strangely liked it.

"Leslie! Get your ass down here before we leave you." I slipped on my black tank top over my frilly red bra, not caring if the straps were in full view for anyone to see. Everyone already thinks I'm the town slut. Why disappoint now? I grabbed my backpack from the side of my bed and slung it over my shoulder whilst making my way out of my room and down the stairs of our two story house that hadn't truly felt like home in years.

"Dad's in a mood. Ignore him." Henry and I both eyed him from his usual chair, seeing his eyes trained solely on the tv ahead of him. Butch Bowers was an asshole. Let me just start by saying that. A hardass. Controlling.

"Leslie? Don't forget what I told you." I rolled my eyes with a subtle answer to his demand, a little okay slipping through my lips before we bolted out the door. And that would be to stop being a hoe and not sleep with every guy in town. When in fact, I'm still a fucking virgin. I'm 15 with no intent of wanting some dick inside me at any given time.

"You'll have to sit between Patrick and Vic. But I swear to fuck you better not let them touch you. Dad will kill me if he hears another story about you and Patrick...." I sighed a little in annoyance, never understanding how these rumors came to be from the little spies that are called parents that always seem to tattle to my dad. Patrick Hockstetter had been friends with Henry since I could remember. Lanky, long dark hair and green eyes that seemed to bore into my soul at any given chance with wandering hands that loved to go down my shirt when he possibly could, once unbuttoning my shorts right in the trans am in full view of my brother, Vic and Belch. He almost made it past my underwear line before I slapped his hand away and scoffed, buttoning my shorts back up as quickly as possible. Thankfully, Henry didn't notice. But Vic did. And he was trying to hide a smile. Patrick and I had this dynamic that Vic new all too well. He knew everything because I told him. He'd been my best friend since we were little, the reason he's now in what they're called as, The Bowers Gang.

"Just so you know Pat, I will slap your dick if you do anything. Got it?" I slipped in next to him as he mock saluted me with a little humored smirk on his undeniably cute face. He loved torturing me. It was his hobby to torture. Specifically me.

"Alrighty Princess." But his arm laced around my waist anyway without hesitation, only drawing me closer to him as Belch took off down the driveway once Henry was in the passenger seat, my light brown hair blowing in the wind.

"Careful. Your dad might see today. He's been at the school a lot since Betty Ripsom disappeared." Vic's helpful warning in my ear was another shot to the heart I hadn't been thinking of. Betty. I used to sit next to her in math class. She was sweet. But I knew she was dead. There's no way she's still alive. And with all the talk of who's taking these kids, it's honestly terrifying. But with summer break starting today after the last day of school, so many would forget, making her just another missing poster on buildings.

"Hockstetter I swear I will beat your ass if you don't quit touching my sister. And you know I fucking will." Henry's usual temper was in full swing this morning and his voice was as dark and threatening as could be. He hated the idea of Patrick and I. He always had. But Patrick never did let go of me until we got to school and we all clambered out of the trans am, Patrick's eyes directly on my ass the entire time I was walking towards the building. And I knew this because I could practically feel his eyes burning holes in my cheeks. Henry suddenly grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me away from the guys and dragging me away with such a look on his face that he could just make someone drop dead from said look.

"Remember what I said. Don't fuck around with that fag Hockstetter. I see the way you look at him....." I shoved away from Henry just as Vic came walking past with an apologetic look on his face. He knew how bad my home life truly was. He knew Henry could be violent with me and dad? Well he was on a whole other level.

"I don't "fuck around" Henry. Regardless of what people say. But if I want to do anything with Patrick, then maybe I will." Maybe I should was all I kept thinking. My eyes connected with Patrick's as Henry stalked away from me with anger boiling in his blood, seeing the firm look of interest in his green eyes. And that never wavering smirk on his lips.

"It's so hard to believe little Leslie Bowers would be interested in a Hockstetter like me. I'm pretty dangerous ya know?" I looked out to see a patrolling police car and knew it was my dad, his eyes connecting with mine from across the busy school yard. He looked pissed. He hated Patrick. And that's what attracted me more to him.

#owen teague #horror #patrick hockstetter #it #stephen king #story #fanfic #the bowers gang #henry bowers #victor criss #belch huggins

[paytato435]

“I don’t care, I haven’t snuck out like this in weeks!” Donnie answered before turning and flipping dramatically into the shadows. He scuttled along the wall like a bug until he could peak around the next corner. Tim just casually walked along behind him.

Chapter art for Chapter 10 of Snapper and Stinkpot, THE BUG.

Timothy belongs to @/PineTreeVillain (I linked him on the actual fanfic chapter, not sure what the proper etiquette here is, lol)

Also fun fact, the reference art I used to draw Tim had him with a chain hanging from his jeans, but I literally drew Angel with a chain on hers last week so I switched it up and gave him a little keychain instead. His keyfob is the same as my car. Would Tim drive a Miata? I don't fucking know. Gave him a Septic Sam too to match the t-shirt (of himself?) he wears, hee hee.

Y’all it took 10 chapters but we are here! The plot is plotting, the art is arting, I am so happy with what I have putting out on this silly blog for the last two months, it’s been fucking crazy. I’ve never done fan art or written anything this substantial ever, it is so creatively fulfilling and I just want to thank everyone who likes and reblogs these posts because y’all have no idea how fucking excited I get when I get feedback on it. I’ve never been more happy in my life, no fucking lie. Thank you so so much, but especially to @lizardlover67 , @entspiderty , @spl00n , @theosb0rnway , @allyheart707 and @caaaaaww for being so supportive in my art journey.

Gonna blab about the art now for a moment because I want to! I cannot believe it took me this long to post art about Donatello. He is the 10/10 the best turtle, and all I have to show my love is a handful of stupid doodles from over a week ago. It's probably a crime, honestly. I need to draw him more; him and Raph, their heads just give me so much trouble idk what it is, but I haven't figured them out yet. I have more trouble drawing Donnie than I did Tim and this is literally the second time I've drawn Tim (and the first was just a dumbass doodle I never posted lmao.) I have a bunch of alternate art that I had drafted up for this that will come out later this week, as well as a draft comic I never posted where April was breaking into the school with Donnie instead. And... I'm sure I've probably said enough now. It's late, and I gotta write chapter twelve or something, idk (this is a scheduled post).

I love it here, hope y’all have a wonderful day. 🥹

#rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt timothy #snapper and stinkpot #casey sas au #chapter art

[kingofthering]

charlos + hands

Charles’ hands are on him the moment the door gets closed behind them and Carlos gets pushed against it.

“Finally,” Charles bites against his lips before kissing Carlos deeply again, his fingers tightened in Carlos’ hair at the base of his nape. His nails scrape Carlos’ skull and Charles licks into Carlos’ mouth and Carlos lets him take and take and take. As much as he wants. Always.

“I miss your long hair, why did you cut it?” Charles mumbles against Carlos’ jaw, making a line to his ear and sucking a kiss just at the hinge of Carlos’ jaw before drawing back, taking both Carlos’ sweatshirt and his t-shirt off at the same time. “And you shaved your arms' hair too. What was that about?”

He’s got a genuine frown between his brows, bordering on a pout, and Carlos chuckles, rolling his eyes fondly. He’s always been aware of how much Charles likes to play with his hair, gripping them when they’re fucking or petting them when they’re watching a movie together. The arms’ hair is a new thing. Carlos files it away in a drawer of his brain.

“Just trying to look nice every now and then,” he shrugs. And he needs to cut his hair before they start getting in front of his eyes and it frustrates the fuck out of him. There is nothing more to it.

“Well, you looked better before,” Charles simply states in that way he has of saying things like they’re universal truths that other people are too stupid to grasp easily. Carlos has always found it endearing. Today is not an exception.

“Any other complaints to make? And can we please move this to a bed? The handle of the door is currently crushing my lower back.”

Charles winces for a second and then he’s grabbing Carlos’ hand, pulling him to the bed. “Take off your clothes?” He asks gently, some of the high energy from just a couple of minutes ago already burnt off.

Carlos doesn’t have much left but he gets himself down to his underwear and sits down on the mattress with his back against the head of the bed, already knowing where this is going.

To prove him right, he barely has to wait a handful of seconds to have an almost-naked Charles climbing on his lap, knees on either side of his hips, arms on his shoulders, laced behind Carlos’ neck.

It’s always been Charles’ favorite position for them to talk and connect, enjoying both the physical proximity and the fact that they can easily tease each other into moving the action in another direction if they want to.

“What took you so long?” Charles asks once he’s all settled down. Carlos puts his hands on his waist, thumbs sweeping over his naked skin. “To get here,” Charles adds when Carlos only raises an eyebrow at him.

“Well, see, I had to take a plane from Madrid to Milan, then a car and—”

“Carlos,” Charles interrupts him, the annoyance easy to read on the lines of his forehead. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’ve been here for over a week already and we haven’t seen each other in a month, I just thought— I don’t know, I thought you were free of other commitments and could get here earlier. I missed you.”

Carlos only arrived at the mountains that afternoon with Rupert. They spent dinner with Charles and his friends before Charles got him back to his hotel room, and now they’re here.

The truth is, yes Carlos could have gotten here earlier. The thing is, he won’t admit to Charles that until the last second, he wasn’t even sure if that was a good idea for him to come at all.

He knows that Charles offered, before the end of the season, casual and all that. Charles says a lot of stuff casually that don’t end up happening. There is a thing such as spending part of the holidays with your teammate and there is another thing, such as spending part of the holidays with your teammate in his room in a way-too-goddamn-romantic place.

Hooking up with Charles and getting closer to him has been the highlight of Carlos’ second half of the season but they haven’t been good with putting words on whatever it is that they’re doing. Sometimes Carlos feels like he’s walking on eggshells and he’s one wrong move away from crushing everything.

He’s not strong enough to tell all that to Charles today, no, not when he just arrived and he looks so perfect right there in his arms. Instead of pouring his heart out, Carlos says “I’m sorry” and he kisses the corner of Charles’ mouth and asks “Let me make it up to you” and Charles nods, bringing them impossibly closer.

Send me a word + a pairing and I'll write a little something.

#carlos sainz #charles leclerc #f1 rpf #prompt fill #my writing #1655 #the amount of carlos i've written the last days is insane #love that for me tho #brain is on a roll but i don't know for how long

[dumfanting]

Tech Thot #1

AO3 Link

Rating: E, explicit, younglings be gone

Warnings: being tipsy, handjobs, cum eating, breast/nipple play, vibrators, being loud, being overheard, not plot just porn, slight dom/sub dynamics

This is one hundred percent self-indulgence, but maybe you’ll like it too! Another lightning-strike idea. It’s about time Tech got some anyway.

Word Count: 2181

F! Reader/ Tech

Tech surprises you for your birthday.

————

You push through the doors of 79’s and take a deep breath of ‘fresh’ air, the cool night breeze feeling amazing on your alcohol-flushed face. You’re a year older, as of three hours ago, but you’ve never had a better birthday. All of the boys were spoiling you, but Tech is especially attentive tonight. Not quite drunk, but not quite sober, you turn around to make sure he and the others have followed you outside, and stumble as you do. Tech catches you by the waist and even through your haze you can see the adoration on his face, which makes you giggle.

As you thank him with a quick peck on the cheek you can practically hear Crosshairs rolled eyes. You say his name and when you have his attention you flip him off.

“You offering?” he asks, clearly being sarcastic and making Wrecker laugh while Hunter watches with a tired shake of his head.

You manage to stand up and walk properly, saying “we’ve been out so late it’s tomorrow now, we gotta get back to the ship” and laughing at the face Echo makes while he tries to figure out what you just said.

Hunter catches up to you and says “I think she means it’s long past midnight,” before moving to the head of the group and leading everyone back towards the hangar Tech had parked the Marauder in. Echo and Crosshair follow him, then you and Tech, then finally Wrecker. They didn’t think anybody would be stupid enough to try anything with you but it had gotten to be such a habit now that you all just fell into place subconsciously.

Tech puts an arm around your waist and pulls you close enough to whisper into your ear “Crosshair inadvertently reminded me, I’ve made you a little something I want to try on you tonight,” making you shiver. The lust in his voice and unusual forwardness of his actions send a bolt of heat into your cunt and you bite your lip. You would have pulled him into the next alleyway with you if you hadn’t already reached the ship, and tell him so. He curses softly under his breath.

—

Once everyone’s back inside, you make your way into the bunks, grab a change of clothes (and a particular bra and matching panties), and duck into the refresher for a quick shower.

As the hot spray runs down your back, the heat between your legs intensifies and you’re sorely tempted to take care of it here and now, but you stop yourself. You didn’t want to burn out your energy just yet, if what Tech said was true.

With that in mind, you finish your shower quickly and get dressed, the oversized shirt and leggings hiding what else you’ve put on, then return to the bunks, sobered up by the warm water. Inside, everyone but Tech and Hunter have gotten into their bunks and pulled the curtains closed, Wrecker snoring already.

Tech catches your eye and you suddenly remember something. You grab that something out of a compartment under your bunk, and walk the few steps over to Hunter, getting his attention.

“We’ve got something for you Sarge,” you say, and Tech moves to stand beside you.

“Well, it’s more for the three of us,” he says.

Hunter's expression shifts from confusion to mild panic, and you can’t help but giggle a little. You hand him the thing you’d just retrieved, and he takes a moment to turn it around in his hands.

“Headphones?” he says, bewildered.

“Noise canceling headphones, which I of course built myself,” Tech says with a smirk. You giggle again when understanding suddenly hits Hunter. He glances between the two of you, then sighs and puts them on before climbing up into his own bunk.

The second Hunter draws his curtain, isolating himself, Tech is immediately on you, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you down into his bunk with him, kissing you like he’d never have another chance. You do the same, pausing only to slip out of your leggings, toss them aside, then straddle him. Your tongues dance and he groans. Your hands roam his body, quickly unclipping his armor purely by muscle memory.

Down to just his undersuit, Tech breaks away from you, panting and sweating already. You feel his hands pull at the hem of your oversized shirt, but grab him by the wrists and lean your weight forward, pinning him down and kissing him again. This continues until he groans your name, his voice thick with lust.

You release his hands and sit back up, peeling your shirt off and tossing it aside as you do. You sit back with a smirk as he gawks at you, shaking your body a little and showing off the brand new red and black set of lingerie you’d picked up a while back. While doing this, the crotch of your panties, already soaked, grinds down onto his straining cock, still held back by his under armor.

Tech groans again, his hands flying to your hips and holding you tightly enough to bruise, but you're too focused on grinding against him to care. He suddenly sits up, tearing his remaining clothes off and pushing you onto your back. Your positions switched, you can better see the hungry look in his eyes, and it sends a fresh wave of need into you.

You sit up enough to prop yourself against your elbows, spit into one of your palms, and unceremoniously take hold of Tech’s twitching cock, making him curse with a growl. He leans forward onto his hands, caging you beneath him as you steadily jerk him off.

With your free hand, you grab him by the jaw and pull his face down into yours, kissing him fervently again. Your other hand picks up speed and pressure, and Tech breaks away from your mouth with a gasp. His hips are twitching. He dips his head down into the crook of your neck, the feeling of his hot breath so close to your throat making you shiver.

You tangle your fingers into his thick curls and press his face into your neck. He knows what you want and nips at your skin, actually sucking a mark into your throat as his hips stutter. He cums with a growl, and the pressure of his teeth against your skin makes you whimper with need.

Panting, you both sit back up, and you still can’t keep your hands off of him, lightly dragging your nails along his spine and making him shiver. Noticing the mess he’d created across your chest, Tech surprises the both of you when he starts to lick you clean and his hands make quick work of the clasp of your bra. He mouths at your left breast, swirling his tongue around your pebbling nipple and making you groan his name.

“Fuck, Tech, please,” you pant, not sure what exactly you’re asking for.

He pulls away from you and says “by the Maker, you’re so beautiful like this, begging for me,” and you whimper his name again. “Don’t forget,” he continues, going into a compartment at the head of his bunk and retrieving something without taking his eyes off you. “I haven’t given you this yet,” he says, handing you the object.

You sit up and examine it; it’s a black cylinder that tapers to a rounded point on one end and has a single silver button on the other. You hit the button and the device vibrates intensely in your hand while making very little noise. You look up at Tech with a grin, knowing that he’d built this himself. You’re about to speak, to thank him, but he gently but firmly presses a finger to your lips, stopping you.

“Don’t thank me just yet my love,” he says, pulling his hand away and slipping the vibrator out of yours. “Allow me to demonstrate its use for you,” he continues. You nod eagerly and strip off your panties as quickly as you can, then lay back and open your legs for him. The cool air against your hot pussy is almost immediately replaced by Tech's hand, and the vibrator.

You clap a hand over your mouth out of habit, but Tech uses his free hand to pull it away. “Hunter can’t hear us,” he says, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “Be a good girl and let me hear those pretty sounds you make,” he continues. You meet his eyes and it strikes you just how lucky you are to have him. You sit up a little and press your lips to his.

The moment you do, Tech hits the button on the vibrator and holds it firmly and directly onto your clit, the sudden intense sensation making you moan loudly and without restraint.

“Yes my darling, just like that. You’re being so good for me,” he purrs, hitting the button again and making the vibrations even stronger.

You feel an all too familiar coil growing tight in your belly. You clasp your hands behind Tech's neck and yank him down to your level. “Tech, I’m so close, f-fuck,” you say, locking eyes with him. He smirks at you and pulls the vibrator away from your throbbing clit, making you whine his name.

“What do you say?” he says, clearly enjoying this.

“Please!” you say loudly. “Please Tech, I need to cum, I want to cum for you,” you continue, your pride taking a backseat as you beg desperately.

Tech smirks at you again. “There’s my good girl,” he says, clicking the button on the vibrator a fourth time. How many settings did the damn thing have?

Before the thought can fully form in your head, Tech grazes the tip of the vibrator against the very end of your clit, and you moan louder than ever before. “That’s it,” Tech says, growling in your ear again. “Cum for me darling.”

The coil in your belly snaps and you do just that, moaning his name unrestrained and experiencing mild convulsions. Tech holds the vibrator to your clit throughout your orgasm, only stopping when you rake your nails down his back, soaking his hand and the bedding below with a scream.

Tech, finally satisfied, holds the button on the vibrator for a few seconds, shutting it off, and setting it down somewhere behind him.

You sit up into a slouch, panting and gasping for your life and your hips twitching every now and then. Tech, ever the prepared one, retrieves a canteen from the same compartment and hands it to you. You accept it and croak out a hoarse thank you, taking small sips and pacing yourself.

Eventually, you hand the canteen back and he replaces it. He cups the side of your face, concerned. “Are you alright? That wasn’t too much, was it?” he asks. You shake your head, but his concern deepens. “Which question are you saying ‘no’ to?” he asks.

You wheeze out a small laugh. “I’m fine, Tech, it wasn’t too much,” you say, grasping his hand with both of your own. “One more setting though, and it would have been,” you continue.

Tech chuckles at you. “My dear, those were the low settings,” he says. Your jaw drops and you gawk at him, making him actually laugh as you shake your head.

With your breathing mostly back to normal, you turn around, laying down with your head at the proper end of the bed. Not seeming to care about the wet spot, Tech also lies down, pulling the sheets over the two of you. He turns onto his side, facing you, and holds you close to his chest, resting his chin against your forehead.

“Happy birthday, my love,” is the last thing you hear him say before falling asleep faster than you ever had before.

—

When you wake next, the chrono on your wrist tells you that it’s past noon. You sit up and stretch, yawning. You notice Tech is already up, but that’s nothing new. He’d been thoughtful enough to leave a change of clothes (and underwear) neatly folded at your feet. With a soft smile, you get dressed, then stand and leave the bunks.

You walk into the main area of the ship, sleepily making your way over to where Tech is, seated at his work bench as always.

You greet him with a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Whatcha working on today?” you ask.

Tech glances up at you, then back down to his work, clearing his throat. “It seems Hunter is not the only one who could benefit from the noise canceling headphones,” he says.

You feel a flush cross your cheeks and curse under your breath.

“Oh, it’s awake,” you hear Crosshair say as he walks into the room.

“Excuse you?” you say, turning to face him.

“You must have been replaced with a banshee last night,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

You turn back around, pointedly ignoring how Echo is doing a poor job of not laughing at you.

————

Taglist (almost forgot!): @kaminocasey @grievouus @madameminor @jennamelinda12

To be tagged in future Tech fics, rely to this post

#my fics #tech #tbb tech #tech/ reader

[firehousewithaview]

Prompt: Buck and Eddie sleep at the others house for whatever reason and ends up wearing the others shirt or shoes. It's pretty innocuous, only the others aren't sure if they slept together and either didn't notice the slip up or this is their way of subtly revealing their relationship and can't ask. Hilarity ensues as maybe the bet gets involved and if someone won.

I uhm. Got a bit carried away. 

~`~

“So, uh,” Hen starts, eyes bouncing between the two backs on the couch. “Anyone know what that’s all about?”

From the seat next to her, Chimney releases a breath like he’s been holding it for hours even though shift only started half an hour ago. “I was hoping you knew.” He whispers back, voice pitched low. 

Raising an eyebrow at him, Hen gives him her best unimpressed face. “You live with Maddie! You have the closer sources!”

Chimney slumps down against his arms on the counter. “I asked her when I saw it, but she said she hasn’t heard anything.”

Hen turns back to contemplating the boys on the couch, the names Buckley and Diaz shining back at her. From the wrong backs. “It could just be a mix up.” She points out. “Eddie hates mornings and Buck’s been staying there for a while.”

Nodding his agreement into his arms, Chimney rolls his head to squint at her. “You think they’ve missed it this long?”

“Yeah,” she draws out, “But it’s them, so it could also be their way of telling us but not wanting to talk about it.”

Groaning, Chimney rolls his head back into his arms. “We will never know peace.” He sits up, back cracking a bit. “What we need is another opinion.”

Both heads turn to Bobby, who’s pointedly looking at the counter he’s wiping. “It’s their business.”

“Mighty vague answer there, Cap.” Hen challenges, though there’s not much heat to her tone. 

Bobby sighs, finally glancing up to the couch. “Not my business.”

“I don’t know, Cap.” Chimney jumps in, a delighted grin growing across his face. “I think I see two firefighters out of uniform.”

The shock then horror that crosses Bobby’s face right as the alarm goes has both Hen and Chim giggling the whole way into their turnouts. 

~`~

It’s still not clear by the time they’re trudging into the station almost 16 hours later. 

The whole day, neither acted like anything was different, which means it’s still a toss up because there are happily married couples who can’t rival the way Buck and Eddie function. The shirts were swapped back somewhere between the first and second calls of the day, but it’s Pandora’s Box now. 

Hen needs to know, and not just for the bet. She’s invested in this, dammit. Those boys deserve love and ever since Eddie came out to them, everyone who knows them has been waiting for it to happen. 

Everyone troops up to the kitchen once out of their gear. Bobby starts the coffee pot while Hen and Chim take the stools they had earlier. 

Buck and Eddie head for the couch, a playful argument bouncing back and forth between them. 

They aren’t being exactly quiet, so when Buck says, “You weren’t complaining last time you were in my bed,” Hen loses a bit of the water she just took a sip of.

Eddie’s answer of “that’s different and you know it.” doesn’t clear any of this up. 

Making eye contact with Chim, she makes an is this what I think it is face to Chim, who shrugs and mouths ‘quarantine’ back to her.

Oh, right. They did share a bed during quarantine. Which seems to have opened the gate to more frequent napping together on the couch and Buck not even pretending to sleep on the couch when he’s over at the Diaz house. 

Cap is casting both Hen and Chim amused glances. “I’ve said it a couple times today and I’ll say it again,” He nods at the couch. “You could just ask them.”

“Oh no.” Chimney huffs, pointing a finger at Bobby. “We’ve just got them back to being themselves, I am not rocking that boat.”

Nodding, Hen rests her chin on her hand. “It feels wrong to risk messing things up between them just for a stupid bet.” 

Bobby’s face softens into fondness. “Then maybe leave it alone for now.” He urges gently. “Even if they are trying to be subtle, both of you know secrets don’t last long here.”

Isn’t that the truth? Hen thinks, glancing back to where Buck is all but curled into Eddie’s lap. But is this even a secret anymore?

~`~

They get their answer the next morning when, as soon as the clock passes their end of shift, Buck leans over and plants his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck where both of them are sitting on the bench still shirtless. “Okay, you win.”

Both Hen and Chim freeze where they are, eyes glued to what’s happening in front of them. 

Eddie has his smug face on. “Yep.” He laughs, eyes sparkling when they flash to meet Hen’s. “Told you they wouldn’t bring it up unless we did.”

As Buck grumbles from where he’s still slumped against Eddie, Hen finally finds her voice. “You boys have something you want to share?”

“We’ve been together two weeks.” Buck grins as he sits up. “And I bet you guys would ask before the end of this shift.“

Pulling his shirt on, Eddie glances back at Hen. “I knew you would be trying to let us work this out on our own.” 

An understanding passes between them, half remembered but still important. When Eddie needed someone to ask, but wasn’t ready to talk about yet. 

Eddie stands, narrowly avoiding the deodorant Chimney tosses at Buck, who just laughs. Buck starts spinning the tee shirt he still hasn’t put on yet into a whip. 

“Who won for last Saturday?” Eddie asks, eyes sparkling with amusement and understanding. 

“May.”

Laughing, Eddie shakes his head. “Course she did.” He leans back against the glass next to her, watching Buck and Chim argue playfully. “Thanks for letting us have that.”

Hen feels herself tearing up, but sniffs it back quickly. “Always.” She nudges his shoulder. “Now I need some details for the other bets.”

Eddie’s face screws up in confusion. “Other bets?”

“You really think we had one bet for this?” She laughs. “No, there’s at least 4, based on how it happened.”

The confused horror on Eddie’s face is almost comical. “What? Why?”

“We’ve been waiting for this, Eddie.” She lowers her voice even though the other two are starting to get louder. “We all knew you guys were getting close, we just didn’t know when it was going to happen.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh.” Eddie puffs. “Well, ask me then.”

Hen tilts her head at him. “Oh.” She pauses, “I thought that would be harder.”

“What can I say?” Eddie laughs, eyes never  leaving Buck. “I’m in a good mood.”

#I don't know what happened here? #anyways there weren't many hijinks #I meant to make more but it just kinda happened like this #911onfox #911 ficlet #buddie #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #hen wilson #chimney han #bobby nash #firehousewithaview

[jazthestampede]

number one fan. (UNFINISHED)

sambucky au where sam's the assistant captain of the washington capitals and bucky's his favorite puck bunny.

SMUT.

Bucky pushes Sam down onto the bed and climbs on top of him, burying his face in the other man’s neck and biting into the sensitive flesh. Sam’s hands creep up Bucky’s thighs as he tilts his head to the side, giving him better access.

“Ah, Bucky. We really shouldn’t do this.” he mumbles as Bucky scrapes his teeth against a particularly sensitive spot.

Bucky lifts his head, “But you want to right?” he runs his hands over Sam’s shoulders, his brief-clad ass firmly seated in Sam’s lap. “Tell me you want me.”

“Fuck.” Sam swallows and runs his hands up and down Bucky’s thick thighs as he wills himself to calm down, feeling goosebumps form underneath his palms, “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” 

Bucky smiles and gently rakes his fingers across Sam’s scalp, “Steve’s not here. It’s just us, so stop thinking and let me make you feel good.”

Sam nods and Bucky reaches down for the hem of his shirt and tugs it over his head.

“Yeah,” Sam whispers, “make me feel good, sweetheart.”

“Careful there, Wilson, you’re getting soft on me,” Bucky laughs. Sam tightens his grip on the other’s thighs and rolls them over in a show of his strength. 

“There ain’t shit soft about me, Barnes.” He growls and Bucky’s eyes darken before surging up to sink his teeth into Sam’s bottom lip, soothing the hurt with his tongue moments later. 

“Show me then.”

Sam is three fingers deep and the man underneath him is moaning at him to hurry it the fuck up. Bucky is writhing in ecstasy as Sam repeatedly grinds his fingers into his prostate. He looks down at the other man’s body, naked as the day he was born except for those motherfucking socks. They’re nothing spectacular or even feminine, just plain black. But they look sinful on Bucky’s legs.

Sam wonders if Bucky’s got more pairs like this. In Capitals colors. With his number on them, because he knows they sell those in the team shop.

God, all Sam wants is for Bucky to wrap those legs around him and let him fuck him stupid. Luckily, he’s about to get his wish.

“You ready?” Sam husks, making Bucky crack one of those slate blue eyes open.

Bucky clenches, then groans, “Fuck yeah. Now hurry up.” Sam pulls his fingers out and reaches for the condom next to Bucky’s hip, tearing the wrapper open and rolling the latex down on his dick in a practiced motion. 

“Say please.” He lines himself up and presses against the ring of muscle until it gives way and he’s seated balls deep. 

“Oh sh-fuck, please.” Bucky gasps and tries to grind down but Sam stops him with a pinch to the hip.

“Don’t do that,” he grunts, eyes rolling back into his skull, “I’ll cum if you do.”

Bucky laughs, breathless, “That’s kinda the goal here, so fuck me. Fuck me anyway you like, as long as you fuck me six ways from Sunday.”

Sam picks Bucky’s legs up, hoists them onto his shoulders, and thrusts, “As you wish.”

Sam learns two things in that moment: one, Bucky is a screamer, and two, he also runs hot as hell on the inside—so hot that it makes Sam’s spine tingle.

Sam licks into Bucky’s mouth as he thrusts, muffling any more cries. Bucky digs red welts into Sam’s biceps as he meets Sam thrust for thrust, his erection trapped between their bellies.

“Oh fuck, Bucky.” Sam moans, Bucky clenches and whines low in his throat, feeling his orgasm draw closer. It’s been so long since he got laid, he almost wants it to last.

“God, Sam, you feel so good.” Bucky whimpers, any and all dignity he may have had is dead and gone. He never wants Sam to stop. Sam fucks into him harder, sweat rolling off his brow and landing on the other man’s collarbone as Bucky clutches the sheets. His hips snap one final time before he collapses onto Bucky’s chest, spilling into the condom and lying in a few spots of Bucky’s own cum as he wraps his arms around him. They lie together for a few minutes and then Sam is easing out, pinching the tip of the condom as he pulls it off, ties it and throws it in the trash can beside the bed before walking into the en suite bathroom. The sound of running water confuses Bucky for a brief moment, but it all clicks when Sam walks toward him with a damp washcloth and gently cleans him up.

“Buck…” Sam mutters, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking a little lost at what to do next as Bucky maneuvers under the covers.

“You can climb in if you want.” Bucky yawns. Sam nods, sliding under the covers next to the man, almost as if he were afraid to touch him until he gets over himself and throws an arm around Bucky’s waist.

#sambucky #au: hockey!au #fic: number one fan #this was just sitting in the drafts #let me know if i should finish it

[depressed-sock]

Mirror Image

Alright I’ve got no plans to actually do anything with this so I decided to just throw it out into the wild rather then let it gather dust.

Puppet and Sidestep au story. Puppet pov

...

The first time you see Nova without a shirt, it's to stitch up a wound on his back. It looks worse than it actually is but it still leaves you worried.

It's not often Nova gets sloppy but it's been known to happen in these last few years you've been with him. In those few times, he's never had you help him with his injuries. Has never needed your help. Or maybe he's never been comfortable showing his skin to you.

Even though you've known exactly what's been under his clothes since the first day his mind touched yours. (Before that even. When skeletal hands had touched your face and made everything hurt. You saw him. Your almost perfect copy. A doppelganger who was older and jaded and marked as other.) It would be impossible for you not to know either way. Not with the shared nightmares and memories you've inherited with him sometimes riding around in your head.

It means something that he trusts you with this. Your brother in revenge is leaning on you because he finally realized he needs to. It's worrying for a lot of reasons. The main one you're focusing on is how vulnerable he is.

How, in a visceral way, you know exactly why he waited this long to ask for help.

"What happened?" You ask to distract yourself. Force yourself to focus on the injuries and not the rancid orange you wish you could dig out with your own hands. It's weird sometimes. Feeling this strongly for someone who is not you. You both have had only yourselves to count on for all your life���and now? Now you have this strange companionship that neither of you can untangle from. You don't think either of you really wants to anyway.

Not with the way Nova leans into your touch rather than flinching. As he trusts you in a way he never would with anyone else. He looks back at you with an exhausted smile and only the explanation of, "Got in over my head doing something stupid."

Stupid and risky and… Another Regen? You can feel the shape of what happened, his mind so very open with yours. "Did you kill them?"

He winces. Guilt tasting rancid at the back of your throat. The biggest difference between the two of you. He feels guilty about a lot of things. You have nothing to feel guilty for. (That's what you keep telling yourself at least.)

Fuck, that sucks though. You know he doesn’t like to kill. "That's not going to draw their attention right?"

"No. It shouldn't. Not with it dead."

You wince because you can feel what he’s trying to do. Distance himself. Make himself and the other Regen objects rather than people. "Don't do that. None of you are objects."

"Not all of us prefer human pronouns," he snorts and you just roll your eyes. Classic diversion. Doesn’t really work on someone who shares a mind space with you in close proximity.

"I know, I've got memories of that place from you, remember asshole?" You very gently smack his shoulder. Making sure to avoid anywhere near the injury. You've both been hurt too often to willingly inflict more on each other. "I also know when you're being shit to yourself and other Regens."

He frowns as you finish the final stitch. Turning to face you. Too intimate, too close, too much at risk with this discussion. (Your eyes go to the barcode. You wonder how much he’s worth.) “We are not going to a grocery store to use a barcode scanner.” A twitch of his lips, fighting off a smile but you can see the laughter in your brother's eyes.

“You gotta admit, it would be a little funny if you were the same price as a box of Oreos.”

“Sunny.” His tone is serious. “We both know I’d cost the same as a pack of gum.”

The giggle that hits you is maybe a bit too hysterical. Bubbling up from your gut and being held back by a hand to your mouth. “Oh my god. I bet you’d cost the same as the one stupid movie. What was it? Sidestep and Charge? No, it was something else…”

“Please stop,” he groans, head in his hands now.

“Oh wait, I remember. Charged love! Where they made you a woman.”

“Oh Hell no. That can go burn in a trash fire.”

“See that makes it the perfect price!” you somehow say with a straight face. “Because your life is a trash fire!”

That does it. Finally breaks the smile free and the absolute joy of talking about stupid shit feels amazing. The worry is gone.

After a few breaths of laughter, Nova shakes his head, looking at you with narrowed eyes. "You're becoming more empath than fortune teller at this rate."

"Well asshole, that's your own damn fault.” You throw his shirt at him. Pausing a second before nervously handing over his jacket too. “Secondly, do me a favor and try to avoid cars for the foreseeable future."

He pulls the shirt on, scrunching his nose a bit and doing his best to hide the wince. "You saw something?"

"Not the full thing. Just a taste of it. It's still far off enough I can't get a clear read."

He hums in thought, slipping the jacket on next. "Anything about Shroud?"

It's hard to hold back the snarl that wants to twist your lips at her name. "Nothing prediction-wise. I have some feelers out though. There's something going on and we should be expecting Lord Ember to pay a visit to the city in the near future."

"We can work him into our plans if we need to. Especially if he’s bringing her along."

You nod your head. "Focus on building our organization first. Once we’re established it’ll be easier to fry the bigger fish."

He nods back. Moving to sit next to you, his weight leaning into yours. "Any news on Dr. Mortum?"

"Everything is going as planned. Armour is on schedule and the nanovores will be neutered. I’m guessing you're going to need me to deliver them next?" You turn to look at the container on the nightstand. Not exactly able to feel them, but you get the impression of them from Nova’s proximity. Excited little rat brains.

They’ll look out for Nova. You know it with absolute certainty.

"Yes. Be gentle with them.” Nova stares at them with a quiet fondness that has you rolling your eyes.

Honestly, you need to get him out more if his best friend is going to end up being a bunch of rat brains in a jar.

“I thought you were my best friend?” He nudges you with a smirk.

“No. I’m family.”

“Oh?” You pretend he’s not getting choked up by that admission.

”Yeah and you need someone that’s not telepathically tied to you. So they can tell you when you’re being stupid with absolute certainty.” (And zero influence. You don’t say that, barely trying to even think it. You’ve got your worries and you don’t want to give them away just yet. Not when there’s something lurking around the corner in both of your minds.)

“Well since that’s not happening guess I’ll just have to stick with the Ratking.”

You sigh, knowing better. “Yeah. Guess so.” You don’t mention the diner. Some things are just meant to happen.

…

The door slams hard enough to shake on its hinges, making you want to wince. You don’t though. You keep your eyes focused on the computer screen in front of you. Online gambling. Some habits are harder to break than others. Except this time you’re actually being careful. Making sure to lose often enough that no one can accuse you of cheating.

Nova storms into the living room. Pacing back and forth as panic fills your mind enough that you finally look up at him. “What happened?” (You know what happened. The alcohol spills as Nova’s name is said with reverence and disbelief. Older face, a mustache that makes him stand out. Charge was always meant to find him.)

“Ortega.” His voice is rough and panicked. There are going to be nightmares tonight. “I can’t fucking believe this.” Nova sits on the couch beside you. Head in his shaking hands.

“Do we need to worry about him?”

“I don’t know,” comes the muffled reply. “Fuck!”

“Ok. Well does he suspect anything?”

“No,” he shakes his head, dropping his hands to look you in the eye. “He asked me to help Lady Argent. Go into her head and figure out who fucked with her mind.”

“Oh.” You can feel the look of horror on your face. “That’s so fucked up.” It had been a necessary evil. You both agreed on that after debating it to hell and back. But this? Going back into his victim's mind with the intention of ‘helping’? That leaves a sour taste on your tongue. You would have been horrified if that had happened with Shroud.

Nova knows it too. He doesn’t feel guilty about taking over her body. That was just what needed to be done to get the nanovores out without any extra damage. But this? This isn’t necessary. It was supposed to be a one-and-done. Now it’s not.

God. They make shit villains don’t they?

“Will she be able to tell it was you?”

He shakes his head, “No, I’ll change up how I feel. The problem is I’m going to need a scapegoat.”

“I can make a list.”

“They need to be a hero or related to hero stuff.” He rubs a hand over his shaved head.

You look at him for a second before drawing out the word, “Why?”

He closes his eyes, back hitting the cushions, “Apparently it felt like a ‘hero’ did it.”

You stare at him. He closes his eyes harder.

A bark of laughter escapes you and he just puts his hands over his face with a groan. Turns out you’re not the only with hard habits to break.

#fallen hero #sidestep #puppet #puppet(fh:r) #fanfiction #my writing #sock-writes #writer on tumblr

[alexandra-emerson]

Wolfstar Spice

A/N: I’ve been toying around with the idea of writing a Wolfstar story set in my 14 Days universe. This is a smutty expert from the story I have in my head, and hopefully I can work up the nerve to write the whole thing one day.

----

“Why are we arguing?!”

“Because it’s what we do!”

“Well, it’s fucking stupid!”

“Speaking of fucking, let’s skip to that. As fun as this is, that part is better.” Siruis winked.

Remus almost punched him. 

This was just like him. He was so special. He was Sirius fucking Black and couldn’t be bothered to follow the proper order of things. It made Remus want to kiss him, then curse him.

He did neither. He balled his fists and walked away.

“Where are you going?” 

Remus tore his bedroom door open so violently it swung out, released a tortured creak, then slammed closed. He swore and tried again.

“Where are you going, Moony? To hide in the bloody closet?”

“Fuck you,” he said as he walked into his room, trying to push the pain in his chest to the side.

Sirius caught his arm but Remus shook it off. “This is not a game to me!” Remus snarled. He couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He knew what he’d see. Sirius’s grey eyes would be wide, imploring and apologetic. And Remus wouldn’t be able to say no.

“It’s not a game to me either.”

Remus pushed out a long breath. “Are you sure? Isn’t everything a game to you? When have you ever taken something in your life seriously?”

Sirius inhaled sharply, then walked away, his steps light. He was always graceful, even when upset. Graceful, and irritating, and endearing, and, and… Sirius. There was no word for that delicate mix of confidence and vulnerability. The man was his own adjective. Remus would never be so complicated.

The door at the end of the hall closed. Remus sighed.

This was the problem with them. They knew exactly where to cut to draw the most blood. But why cut at all? There were couples like James and Lily who bared their souls to each other freely. 

Remus and Sirius weren’t like that. But that didn’t mean they didn’t want access to the other’s innerworkings. So to get at them, they tore each other apart.

Remus crossed the hall and placed his hand on the doorknob, then just stood there, unmoving besides his shaking hand and racing heart.

He was at the edge of his control. Sirius brought that out of him. It was like the full moon was always just a few days away. Sometimes Remus could pretend that this was what he was chasing—the thrill, not the man.

Who was he fucking kidding? He was chasing the man. A man who deserved the world. And all Remus could give him was a pack of fags and a pint at a dodgy pub, and even then, only if he’d just been paid.

The thought drove him backward. But just before he turned away, the door opened.

“Did you want something?” Sirius asked. His whole countenance was a challenge, from crossed arms, to the way his hair fell across his face, to the glint in his eyes.

“No. I changed my mind.”

Sirius smirked, giving Remus the push he needed. Remus turned around, tears stinging his eyes. It was just a fucking game to Sirius, he reminded himself.

“Remus.”

Remus halted his retreat. Fuck. Why did he have to say his name like that?

Sirius’s fingers encircled his wrist, and Remus’s final shards of restraint dulled, then disappeared. In one swift movement, he had Sirius pinned to the wall, trapped in a violent kiss.

They finished their argument, biting and sucking, their embrace more a collision than a kiss. Then they apologized, tongues meeting lazily as they held each other close.

Their eyes met as they caught their breath, Sirius’s so clear, Remus could read his thoughts: You can have this. You can have me.

At moments like this, Remus could pretend this wasn’t Sirius choosing the worst thing for himself, precisely because it was the worst thing. He could pretend that this remarkable wizard could choose a shabby werewolf who couldn’t hold a job. 

They fumbled with each other’s clothes. Belts clinked, shirts were pulled off, and the familiar spells were uttered. Sirius turned around, then Remus pressed into him. 

Sirius groaned, and Remus stopped, just breathing in Sirius’s scent as he licked a line of sweat off his neck.

“You can move.”

Remus attacked with hard thrusts, drawing a whimper from Sirius, which just pushed him harder. Sirius didn’t like this part—though he denied it when asked—so Remus moved quickly. 

He could see the way Sirius balled his fists, and the twisted expression he wore. No, he didn’t enjoy it. He tolerated it. For Remus. And the tender way he kissed Remus, a mocking contrast to Remus’s brutal thrusts, explained why.

Remus finished with a loud groan, then just stood there and held Sirius, relishing the feeling of his body relaxing in his arms as he pulled out. They moved to Sirius’s room in a tumble of soft kisses, murmured reassurances, and whispered spells.

Remus pushed Sirius onto the bed, then knelt down and began stroking him. He waited until Sirius was calling him a prick, and literally begging for it, before taking him in his mouth. But still, Remus held back. Now he was an even bigger prick, and Sirius was growling and fisting the sheets, but Remus ignored him, because he knew this was exactly how Sirius wanted it. 

He went on for what felt like hours, until Sirius was reduced to a whisper of sighs and swears, his limbs shaking. Sirius finished with a gasp, and Remus’s eyes darted to his face, soaking in that satisfied smile.

There were always a few minutes when Remus allowed himself to stay. To climb onto the bed, and hold Sirius, and pretend this was something real.

But soon, it was time to leave.

“Remus.” Sirius had said it with the same tone he’d used in the hall. That bastard.

Remus pretended he hadn’t heard. He remembered who he was. What he was. But more importantly, what he wasn’t. 

He left the room, wishing he were someone else. 

----

#remus x sirius #Sirius x Remus #wolfstar #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Marauders #AU #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic