#also those titles are metal as hell

[ichangedmycornyahhname]

Earth 42!Miles x Reader

The buzzing of the drill was soon drowned out by the shattering glass.

Summary: After a talk with Miles, reader finds herself at the nail salon. She was treating herself, just as he had requested. But that self care day soon turns into much more. Part 1. Here

Warnings: A little angst? Violence | Cursing | Some spice I suppose. | I’m gonna warn y’all now, I do not speak Spanish fluently at all, so if anything is wrong grammatically please correct me. | I’m actually thinking of making this into a mini series? Maybe a part. 3 after this. Also! Open to some title ideas.

Miles kept his promise. He sent her money to get her nails done. Which is why now she sat in her usual salon, her friend Roxanne drilling at her nails. The salon was hidden deep within the city, a little hole in the wall. With New York in shambles, people had to find some sort of way to feel normal. “What design are we doing this time Y/N? Freestyle again?” Y/N shook her head at her pink haired friend, causing her Roxy to smirk. “Oh, I see. What’s the idea then?”

“Was thinking of doing purple and black. Maybe a little green.” Those were Miles signature colors. His prowler costume consisted of different shades of purple and black, and she was sure her friend could come up with something good. “Hm, that’s new. Alright whatever you say.” Roxy gave a fond smile before getting to work. As she did so, Y/N found herself pondering on what to do after getting her nails done. Maybe go get some food, check on a few friends, avoid the crooks on every street. Possibly invite Miles over for a late night rendezvous. She sighed at the thought. She was completely smitten with the guy.

As time went by, and Roxy made quick progress, a low rumble began to stir beneath their feet. Followed by the loud roar of an engine. She traded a look with Roxy, who had a brow raised in suspicion. “You feel that too?” She questioned as the drill buzzed just above Y/Ns nail. “Yeah, what the hell is that?” She replied to the woman with dyed hair. It wasn’t just the two who noticed. Most people within the nail salon glanced around, concerned and confused by the sudden rumbling. The same rumbling that suddenly stopped. “Maybe it’s construction.” Roxy chimed, doing her best to stay optimistic. Then she got right back to work. The drill buzzed, shaving down the black base of the nail. “What’s got you so preppy? You still with that guy?” Y/N flushed at the question, her gaze averting from Roxy’s. “Yeah, we’re still together. He’s a really good guy, just really busy.” She fawned. “That’s good, glad you’re doing well girl. Was getting worried about you after the whole..” Roxy’s voice trailed off, and Y/N took this as a chance to cut in, “I’m fine Rox, he makes me feel happy. I promise.” She gave her a look of confirmation and Roxanne only nodded.

The atmosphere of the salon was pleasant, relaxing. She found herself spacing out, her eyes focusing in on nothing too important while she lightly bopped her head to the music playing in the background. Then the rumbling returned, and much louder this time around. It sounded close, too close for comfort. Following the noise, her eyes landed on an incoming cop car. She could barely make out the sparking metal of the rim where the missing tire was before the car skidded onto the it’s side and tumbled into the big front window of the salon. The crashing of glass filled the shop, along with the blaring siren and tumbling debris. Y/N ducked down at the sight of the crash, pulling Roxy along with her as the broken down car came to a slow stop in the middle of the salon.

Amidst the carnage, she could faintly make out the crumpled figure of a cop within the drivers seat. She had no clue who the guy was. In fact, she had no clue what was even going on. All she knew was the salon was in utter ruins, and the car was spilling oil into a large puddle beneath it. She felt overwhelmed by the sight. By the sirens ringing in her ears, by the smoke rising from the cars engine. “Holy fuck..Rox we gotta get out of here!” She half whispered half shouted. Her hand found Roxy’s, giving it a light tug as she led the shell shocked woman to the wide opening left by the car. “Hurry up girl..! I’m not trying to die here..” She almost hissed. As they made their way past the wrecked car, the smoke from the debris and vehicle flooded their lungs. Roxy began to cough, heavy and intense. This would’ve caught her attention if the incoming villain didn’t. He was large, bulky, and clad in dark angular armor. His aura oozed superiority, while his hardly visible eyes were stuck on the cop unconscious in the car. It would seem the armored man had a target. With this new found knowledge (assumption), she made haste towards the exit, somehow managing to slither out without catching the attention of the man in armor. “Rox..we gotta get out of here man. Before that big dude spots us..” She muttered as they hid behind large pieces of debris. Her eyes took a glance over the fallen pieces of building, the sight of the man approaching the car bringing a sort of relief to her. “What are you talking about Y/N? We can’t leave that cop in there. That guy will kill him..!” Y/Ns jaw slacked, shocked by her friends desire to rush into danger. “The hell are you talking about? We’ll be squashed like bugs if we go in there..” She found Roxy’s arm, and have it a harsh squeeze as she tried to get the woman to stay back. Though it would seem to be pointless. Roxy was already slipping away and sneaking her way back into the building.

Y/Ns hands found her hair. Her fingers tugged at the root as she watched frantically as her friend entered the building once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do. I can’t fight that dude he’s fucking huge..and I’ll be caught if I-“ She paused mid sentence as she came to a realization. And soon she was dialing Miles’ number, hoping that the fool would answer his phone.

“Please pick up..please..fuck.” Click, “Yeah, what’s up ma?”

“Oh thank fuck-“ A breath of relief left her now chapped lips, she had never been so thankful to hear his voice. “Miles, baby, you need to come quick!.. I was getting my nails done and then a cop car bursted through the damn window..now some big armor dude is about to kill him and my friend is trying to be a hero tryna save him..” Her words were quick, breathy, and frantic. And Miles immediately took notice of this. “Im..im at my usual place. Need you to hurry.” She whispered into the phone as she attempted to peek over to the scene that was unfolding.

“I’m on my way now.” Was all she received from her boyfriend. She wanted to respond, truly. But her tongue was tied, and her friend was about to be fighting for her life. Roxy had managed to get the cop out of the car, now dragging him out as quickly as she could, slippery streams of oil leaving a trail behind. “Cmon Rox..” She had long forgotten about her phone, and found herself at a crossroads. Should she help, be the good person she was raised to be? Or should she sit there and do nothing? She gulped, her hand visibly shaking around her phone as she mentally began to hype herself up. She had no clue what the rhino was doing this in the middle of the day, or any clue why he was only after the cop. But what she did know was that her friend was in danger. “Y/N? What’re you about to do?” She heard from the other side of the line. However, she didn’t reply. Instead she rushed over, still crouched down behind rubble as she made her way inside. “Rox! Rox..cmon grab his heavy ass and let’s get the hell out of here.” She cursed out as she found the man’s arm and tugged him away from the car, he was much more heavy than she had anticipated. “Thank you Y/N.” Roxy replied before tugging at the cops other arm. They worked to pull him out as quickly as possible, but the rhino took notice of this. His hard glare turned deadly, and he visibly uttered something inaudible to the panicking woman. “Hurry! Hurry!”

He growled, his head lowering as he changed positions. At first, she wasn’t sure what he was doing, and then she realized. He was charging, at them.

She dropped the cops arm and attempted to pull Roxanne off of the cop, her movements quick and frantic. And she almost budged, but it would seem as though shock had gotten to her, her grip unbreakable. “Roxy cmon!” She screamed, shrill with panic. They were going to die. They were going to die in a broke down nail salon because her friend wanted to save a cop. Y/Ns eyes slammed shut as she waited for the inevitable. Her breath caught in her throat at the incoming impact, but it never came. Instead the crash of another vehicle caused her ears to ring, followed by large hands shaking her out of her fear. “Hey. Hey you okay? Talk to me!” Her eyes shot open, her hands coming up to wrap around the figures wrists. “M- Mil- prowler.” She was absolutely relieved to see him, to hear that robotic filter on his voice as she stared at his mask. “I’m..okay..where’s uhm.” She took a moment, swallowing as she gathered herself. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, and her body was shaking with unease. She swallowed, spit wetting her dry mouth. Quickly she collected herself. “Roxy, where’s Roxy? And that cop?”

“They’re fine, but we gotta go before that dude wakes up. Cmon.” He said as he turned around and pulled her onto his back. She didn’t bother arguing, she didn’t have the energy. Somehow, Miles managed to drag all three of them out of the crash sight and far enough out of harms way. It was a dingy alley way, trash and other none-sense tossed around. Y/N was still resting on his back, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his neck. “Thought I was gonna die back there.” She uttered the words, but he heard them loud and clear. “Nah, I would never let that happen. You know that mami. I called the cops for your friend and that man. You’re coming home with me.” He wasn’t asking, he was telling, and she was perfectly fine with that.

-

Miles slipped into his apartment through the window, and trudged inside. He tossed his metal gauntlet onto the floor, his hands free to lay her onto his bed. The plush mattress underneath her body managing to relax her muscles. Miles didn’t join her in bed immediately. Instead he was packing his suit up along with his gauntlets, before stepping back over. Now in a simple black tank top and sweats. His gaze was soft, solemn even. His hand found a strand of her hair, fiddling with it as he watched her cautiously. “Wanna go clean up? I can start a bath or shower for you..” He asked as he took a seat on the bed beside her.

“Yeah, all this damn dust and sweat is gonna make me look a hot mess.” He gave a small chuckle at her joke, though he wasn’t all to amused by the entire situation. He figured it was best to get her comfortable before talking about anything. “Ight. Cmon then ma.” His hands went under her body, picking her up princess style and bringing her over to the bathroom. “I’ll bring you a towel and wash cloth, just gimme a sec.” He gently set her down, his hand lingering on her arm before he left only to briefly return.

“I left some clothes for you on the counter.” He mentioned before placing a kiss upon her forehead and departing from the restroom. She smiled, thankful for his presence. And soon she hopped in the shower. It was relaxing, the hot water pattering gently across her skin. The feeling of cleanliness as she washed the remainders of the day away.

Eventually, she was hopping out of the shower and putting the clothes he had given her on. It wasn’t anything special. Just a pair of his shorts and a shirt, but it felt special to her. Y/N made her way through Miles (Rio’s) apartment, finding her way into the kitchen to snatch up a few snacks. Thankfully Mrs. Morales was fast asleep in her room, so she went without questioning. Y/N made her way back to Miles’ room, entering and shutting the door behind her. His room was mature, calm colors, basic necessities. The usual stuff. Plus his punching bag that she played with on the occasion. From the windows opening, she could see the moons light shining through. She was a bit surprised to see how dark it had gotten. But, she had no issue with it. Not when she was still alive. She gave Miles a faint smile, “Don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful for a shower.” She chimed jokingly as she set the snacks down onto the bedside table. Then she plopped back down on his bed and wrapped herself up in his blanket. Miles was currently standing in front of his closet, fiddling with a glove from his suit as though he was contemplating something. This caught her attention. Sitting up, she sighed. “So, how exactly did you beat that guy?” She inquired, which caused his eyes to meet hers.

“Threw my motorcycle at him. Knocked him down long enough to get you out.” He said before tossing his glove onto his desk chair and making his way over to the bed. Her jaw was wide at his explanation, surprised at his confession. “Your motorcycle? Are you serious babe? That’s fucking crazy.” He only smirked as his hands intruded the blanket and his arms wrapped firmly around her torso. “I’ll just make another one with Unc.” His weight caused her to fall back on his bed, her head now snug in his pillow. His arms felt comforting around her as his head rested on her chest, his soft breaths managing to calm her down. Her hands found his hair, now fiddling with the ends of his braids. Sure, it wasn’t her first time seeing them, but she certainly thought the style suited him well. “I like them, they’re cute.” She said, which caused him to shift and rest his chin on her chest. He had a satisfied look on his face, one only a victor would wear.

“Knew you did. Mom thought they made me look weird, but eh, I think I like them.”

“Good, they suit you.” She nodded in agreement. They sat in silence for a moment, watching each other with gentle eyes. Her hands scratched lightly at his scalp, managing to make his eyes shut. It would seem that the only time Miles could truly allow himself to feel vulnerable, was around her. After a few minutes of pleasant silence, Miles spoke again, his tone much more serious. “Me dejaste preocupado mami..” He muttered, his words muffled as he burried his face back into her chest. This made her heart ache, her brows knitting with concern. “Mi vida, I’m okay now. You saved me..and my friend. Thank you.” He shook his head. “Next time you run. Call me, I’ll help your little friends. For now though, you’re my main priority.” He proclaimed before sitting up from her chest and leaning up to kiss her lips. “I’m serious Y/N. You run.” He spoke against her lips.

“Okay..” She mumbled, her eyes shut and her hands resting on his jaw. Her lips grazed his, the distance growing tantalizingly close. And finally he pressed back into her, lips meshing into hers as his hands traversed her sides. “So glad you’re okay..” He said in a hushed manner as he poured his love into every movement. His kisses slowly began to lower, finding her neck, then her collar bone, and- she hissed. Wincing beneath him, her body tensed and he froze. His hard stare lingered on her, awaiting a sign to stop or continue. “Sorry, think I got a bruise or something. You can keep going Miles.” He didn’t. Not there.

His hands found her legs, now pulling her thighs apart just enough to get closer to her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the anticipation of what’s to happen making her giddy with excitement. “Relajate, Y/N. You’re tired and need to rest.” He said as he shifted them around, the two of them now lying on their sides wrapped in one another’s arms. This caused her to sigh, a frown on her face as she glared up at him. “Don’t look at me like that. You just went through a lot, don’t want you hurting yourself more.” He said as he tugged the blanket over their forms.

“Next time don’t start it if you’re not gonna finish it Miles.” She scoffed before scooting into his chest, his familiar scent drawing a small grin from her. “Who said I wouldn’t finish it mami? Just letting you get better first.” She could feel him smirk against her head as he rested his face against the crown of it. His words were enough to silence her, along with the sudden depletion of adrenaline. The two snuggled together, the soft blankets paired with the warmth of one another was enough to make them dreary. “Fine..Goodnight, love you Miles.”

“Te amo ma.”

Taglist? - @willowcxmilee @rinouko @chims-kookies @bbybubbles @supremeshrimpy2 @marice23top @korizzybee @otaku-degenarate @movie-enthusiast22 @corpsebridenightamare @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @marsbars09 @dystop4in14nd @ethanlandrysgf69 @mmxinne @brxght-world @rinisfruity14 @repostingmyfavs @sammarvel123 @idkwhatimdoingherehonestlyy @frissy @d4ridi0rsworld @julie03 @sakura-onesan @oh-kurva (Yall I’m never making a taglist again 🙁 props to y’all who do bc this is too much work.)

#x reader #spider man x reader #spider man across the spiderverse spoilers #spider man across the spider verse #prowler #miles morales prowler #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 #fluff

[blkkizzat]

ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟐

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 6.5k of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: This is my first kinktober fic! I'm sorry this took so long y'all but last week been low key hell and I was sick for a lot of it. Also I did struggle with this a bit since this one I decided to do as an whole fic instead of PWP and now its gotten to be so long its definitely going to be in two parts. Sorry there's no smut in the first part, but there is some fluff and some juicy build up. I've never written for Choso before but he's so baby girl omg I'm obsessed with him now but still I'm a bit nervous posting this. sorry if its dog.

Enjoy!

“Ever felt a knife rip through human flesh and scrape the bone beneath?”

Those were the last words a nameless student heard before Ghostface's hunting knife shined menacingly in the air and came down to claim its newest victim.

Shluk! Shluk! Shluk!

Metal slashed through flesh with razor precision.

Gurgled death cries are silenced as the lifeless body collapses to the ground. 

A thick pool of blood began gathering around them to fan out and travel around their body down the slanted titled floor to drain. 

Choso breathed in deeply. 

A wave of calm washed over him. 

Peace. 

Almost in an enlightened state, he felt the most serene after a kill. 

It was beautiful. 

Blood was beautiful.

The surging stream of blood that would eventually slow to a trickle, the abstract designs of its splatter and the way it swirled around the body splayed across the ground like paint on a canvas.

Like a painting. 

A death painting… and the knife, his paintbrush. 

This was his art.

Choso can recall the first time he actually saw blood beyond a minor scrape. 

He couldn’t have been more than 6 years old. No doubt trying to impress his younger brother Yuji by balancing on top of the monkey bars. After all this time Choso isn’t certain as to how, but he lost his footing and fell flat on his face onto the unforgiving concrete below.

Screams of children filled the area once Choso pushed himself up onto his feet. He immediately felt wetness rush down his face. However, rather than cry or panic a young Choso cocked his head curiously when he noticed his reflection on the metal jungle gym. A warped view of his face mirrored back at him but he could still make out the bright red fluid cascading down his features staining him in red. 

Choso didn’t know how long he stood transfixed, mesmerized by the sight of rouge river that flowed from him until Yuji ran back crying with their parents in tow. 

It was how he had the scar across the bridge of his nose till this day, which became unsightly enough he had decided to get a black bar tattooed over it as soon as he turned 18. 

From then on he couldn’t deny his growing obsession with blood and seeing it leave the human body. All of which had led him here to this university to attain a PHD in Forensics. 

He picked this university, not only for their program but it was the perfect small town playground for Ghostface, a local urban legend from years ago he decided to revive once he felt as he had attained enough knowledge not to get caught.  

Choso was meticulous in his process. 

Ironclad alibis, no distinctive patterns and no victims with any connections to each other, nor him. Additionally, he had memorized all the angles of the university’s security system (thanks to a security guard he had bribed then promptly killed). 

His victims' lives were just his means to an end for his art and most students on this campus wouldn’t amount to much anyway outside of that was how he justified it. Choso did like toying with them on occasion though, fear made the blood pump faster and spray harder once he finally did catch them. 

Sadly, he could never admire his creations for too long though before needing to make his own exit. 

Almost midnight. 

Ten more minutes before campus security makes another round.

He took one last glance at the scene of carnage he had created before disappearing into the night. 

☠

In just a mere 2 hours, the news of another Ghostface murder spread across campus. 

The university’s students were either scared, scattering back to barricade themselves in their dorms. Or curious, lingering around the crime scene near the safety of the news crews and reporters who had gathered to see who the unlucky victim was this time.

No one however, is likely more curious than you: A third year forensics undergrad, who was just itching to get a real glimpse of your first real crime scene, a Ghostface copycat killer crime scene at that! 

You had even left a huge frat party (to be fair it was about to get broken up soon anyway) to trek across campus in the bitter cold of late fall. 

“Y/N, let’s go back–,” one of your pledges whined, “–it’s cold and my feet hurt in these heels!”

“Shh, Stassi, shut up! What if this is an initiation test?” another pledge whispered. 

Your sorority pledges chatter on behind you and you almost forgot you brought them along. It’s not like you wanted to but, like it or not, they were attached to you at the hip like little ducklings until rush was over.

With a clap you turn on your heel to address them.

“Ladies–” 

However you abruptly stop once you see your Forensics TA, Choso Kamo, taking what appeared to be a night jog across the campus quad. 

Was he going to the crime scene too? Your face instantly lights up and your pledges look around confused.

“Wait here girlies! I’ll be 5 minutes max…. No, I mean it. Wait right here!”    

Your pledges huff quietly, but agree. 

They had no choice really as you were already skipping as fast as your not-so-sober legs would carry you in 5-inch pumps over the quad lawn. Truthfully, that was not something they were trying to do too, especially not to chase down what looked like some creepy emo nerd.

“Choso!”

You call out to him and wave, but he doesn’t look like he sees you as you hurry towards him.

“Hey Choooo! Wait up!”  You puffed out, trying to maneuver over the grass in your heels. 

Choso sighed recognizing your voice, reluctantly slowing his pace. He would have kept on jogging but he knew you would keep calling out to him and draw even more attention that he really didn’t need right now.

Finally catching up to him, you grab Choso’s arm and loop yours through. He flinched slightly at your touch but you knew he always seemed a bit jumpy when it came to physical contact, so this didn’t phase you. 

If anything you thought his reactions were kinda cute.

“Where are you going weirdo? All the action is back that way!” You teased with a big grin and pointed in the direction of the crime scene.

Choso tries to ignore how his adrenaline was pumping even faster from you holding on to him than when he was running, especially dressed as you were. 

You looked sexy as hell utterly ridiculous.

You were decked out in a sailor costume, which was pretty much just a poor excuse for lingerie at this point. Your white sailor flap collar attached to nothing more than a sparkly navy bra with shiney white and red trims, leaving your midsection exposed showing your cute little belly ring in the shape of an anchor. 

This was complemented by a dangerously short yet matching sparkling navy pleated skirt which sat low on your thick hips. Your shapely legs were the most covered part of your body yet still looked overwhelmingly tempting in red glittery garters, attached to white opaque stockings in glittery red heels.

“I’m the weirdo… but you’re dressed like that in 40 degree weather.” Choso retorted, brow raised.

“Duh Choso–” 

You released his arm to give him a twirl in your outfit, not noticing the way he nervously wet his lips watching your skirt rise with your little spin.

“–The ‘Get Nauti’ party was tonight silly, where have you been!?”

Oh you know, just casually killing someone. Choso resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

Of course he knew about the party. 

The campus had been littered with fliers for ‘Get Nauti’ for the past two weeks. Nothing Choso would ever be interested in as he would rather stab himself in the face than attend a mind-numbing party with a bunch of bro-for-brain frat guys. 

However, he did take advantage of the opportunity to create another death painting as Ghostface with the rest of campus preoccupied. 

He couldn’t tell you that though obviously.

“Gym,” Choso said flatly and shrugged, “Heading back to the dorms n-”

“–You mean you aren't going to the Social Sciences building!? Don’t you remember?!” You cut him off in your excitement. 

“The police said they would let us forensic students look at the next crime scene!”

Your face had a warm glow and your movements slightly swayed. You were clearly drunk.

“No Y/N, they said they might let the PhD students, like me, look at the crime scene… and that was only a slim ‘maybe’. You’re still just an undergrad”, he reminded you, much to your dismay as you puffed your cheeks.

But seriously, Choso thought, even the incompetent local police would have enough sense not to let you on the crime scene dressed as you are now, even if you were a PhD student. 

“Awe no fair,” you whine dejectedly. “But you should go, Cho! Then you can tell me all about it! Pleaseeee, I’m dying to know what a Ghostface crime scene looks like. I hear it’s kinda gruesome!”

You gazed up at Choso through fluttering long lashes as you poked out your cherry glossed lips. It was a pout that could famously leave any frat boy at your mercy, but it never seemed to stir Choso much (that you could tell at least).

Choso swallowed. 

On the contrary, your charms worked rather well on him. His mouth was dry and he unconsciously clenched and unclenched a sweat ridden palm behind his back. 

The hell were you doing being this excited over a crime scene? One of his crime scenes for that matter? 

Choso really didn’t know what to make of that.

“Y/N it’s late. I still have papers to grade. I’m going back to my dorm now and you should get home too,” Choso said flatly, trying to keep his cool although fatigue was etched into his voice.

He was in peak physical form but still feeling the strain given he just chased his last victim all over the Social Sciences building. Not to mention still having assignments to grade. All which would be fine if he also wasn’t on edge from you right now as well.

“Booooo…Choso yo– ahchoo!” You sneezed from the cold. 

The effects of alcohol could only do so much to keep you warm in these low temperatures while you were standing still. 

With another sigh Choso unzipped his black track jacket, taking it off and putting it around your shoulders. 

He was doing so as much for your sake as his own. Choso couldn’t help but notice your boobs looking like they were going to pop out of your flimsy sailor bra at any moment when you folded your arms underneath them for warmth.

He was really doing his best to maintain eye contact with you.

“Awe thanks Cho, you’re so chivalrous!” You giggled, blushing as you snuggled into his jacket. 

You could still feel his body heat lingering on the material but the heady scent of oak and sandwood from his cologne warmed you even more.

You also couldn’t help but stare as the black compression turtleneck he wore underneath clung to his body like a second skin. You had suspicions he was fit but you never saw him wear anything beyond his dark colored button ups and shaggy sweaters when in class. 

“Now go home, Y/N. You shouldn’t even be out here alone this late.” 

Choso’s stern voice snapped you out of your ogling.

“But I’m not alone silly!” 

You pointed to the group of scared and shivering freshmen girls also in various states of sparkly undress all for the sake of ‘getting nauti’ standing on a paved path not too far off. 

They looked absolutely miserable. 

“I have my pledges!” 

Choso gave you an incredulous look. You were too clueless. 

“So let me get this straight… You are drunk. You have drunk freshmen with you, who shouldn’t even be drinking in the first place…and you plan on taking them to a murder scene? Where the cops are?” You made an “OH” face and absentmindedly laughed as you came to the realization it probably wasn’t the best look for Chapter VP of the AKAs to take a bunch of drunk and terrified freshmen pledges straight into a recent crime scene. Even if you could put an academic spin on it as it was relevant to your major classes.

Yikes, and on second thought, your house mom would flip her entire shit if she found out.

“Go home Y/N,” Choso said again, shaking his head.

“Besides, you should be more focused on the Chemistry lab midterm on Monday. You know you can’t afford to fail.”

You sulked but relented, he was right. On both accounts.

As your T.A. for that class Choso knew better than anyone just how much your grade depended on passing that lab and you hadn’t even so much as glanced at your notes yet this week.

“Aye Aye, Capitan Choso, sir!” you teased giving him a salute with a wink and lifted knee, your sailor skirt lifting a bit higher.

It was a cute move, or it would have been at least if it hadn't caused your weight to shift all on to one foot. The heel of the sparkly red glitter pump baring your weight sunk into the patch of soft soil beneath you causing your foot to pop out of the shoe as you tumble forward. 

You would have definitely ate shit and embarrassed yourself in front of Choso, your pledges and whoever else was walking across the quad at this time of night if Choso’s quick reflexes didn’t catch you. 

You let out a squeak and waved your arms as you fell tits first onto Choso’s hard chest. 

Shit. 

Choso could feel your hardened nipples pressing against him through the flimsyass costume you wore. He tried hard to focus on how cold it was outside. Anything rather than how warm your body felt up against him or how his biceps tensed from the tight grip of your delicate fingers that sought stability from him.

You grinned sheepishly. You thanked him for catching you not realizing the position you were in nor the torment you were putting this man through.

Setting you upright quickly, Choso crouched down to retrieve your shoe. 

His plan was to simply place it near your foot but he felt your hand land on his shoulder and you raised your dainty foot up expectantly.

Any attempts to avert his gaze proved futile as Choso couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling up the length of your leg. 

Your opaque white stockings practically glowed in the darkness illuminating the shapely calves it covered and thick thighs the tight material cut into. Your hips strained against your garters up until your –he caught himself and his eyes snapped up immediately.

He was a killer, not a perv at least he was trying not to be.

Gingerly making sure to only touch your ankle, you were giggling again as he put your shoe on your foot and placed it on the grass again.

“Thanks Choso! You really are a lifesaver, ya know! I can’t bend down in this skirt.”

“Don’t mention it.” Choso quickly replied, pushing his bangs out of his face in exasperation. 

Really don’t. 

Choso was trying to forget the flash of red lace he saw that barely covered your plump pu– No he had to stop, you were technically his student even if he was just a T.A.

He would surely have to kill you if he popped a boner right now. He was trying to keep a low profile already and did not need to add ‘sexual deviant' to his name from a student harassment claim.

“For real now, go home Y/N.” Choso silently pleaded you would just listen this time. 

He always felt more compulsive right after a kill and didn’t know what he would do if you stayed around him like this much longer.

You finally relented to his relief, nodding and mumbling a sad little goodnight pulling his jacket around your shoulders tighter as you turned to leave back to your pledges. 

Choso started to leave as well but your voice stopped him as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“You know Choso…” You smoothed your skirt down behind you and flashed him a pageant winning smile, “I don’t mind that you saw them.”

Before Choso’s short-circuiting brain could even process what you said you were bouncing off back to your pledges. “Okay ladies, now make like Bey and get in formation! Back to the Soro house!” 

Your pledges erupted with various replies from– 

‘Thank God!’’ 

‘Did you just go over there to steal that nerd’s jacket? Boss!’’

‘Was that your boyfriend, Y/N?’

‘Y/N’s bf is a starter on the football team, she doesn’t want that weird emo dork.’

‘No, sis did you see his muscles– That emo look is still kinda hot right now, huh Y/N?’ 

‘Awe, but I want to go back to the frat!’ 

–all fluttered from the group of chattering girls as you cheerily led them back to the Sorority house. 

You laughed at their comments hoping Choso couldn’t hear them though, as they were a bit embarrassing. 

Unfortunately for the both of you, there was no way for Choso not to hear your rowdy group of drunk giggling girls, he’s sure the whole quad did. 

Choso rolled his eyes as a chill took over him as he started the jog back to his dorms. 

He was glad he had given you his jacket though. The way his body had started to respond to you just now the frigid jog back to the dorms would do him good. 

He just wanted to shower, grade a few papers then go to bed, he didn’t want to end up fisting his cock to you again tonight. 

You had plagued his peace for too long. It wouldn’t do him any good to think of you, it’s not like he could ever have you. 

Sure you went to the same university but you might as well have been from two different worlds. 

You were a popular sorority undergrad with the attention of virtually the entire male population on campus. 

Choso was a PhD student who was used to fading in the background, most avoided him due his looks and academic focus anyway. 

He only had an affiliation with you because his scholarships were tied to being a T.A. for undergrad forensics classes. 

Also you did have a boyfriend. 

An asshole neanderthal football-wide-receiver boyfriend who he would have been tempted to kill already had he not served his own purpose as a reality check and barrier for Choso.

Oh and had an eccentric obsession with blood going for him and was also the Ghostface copycat killer, that too. 

He was sure that would go over well with you, Choso mused sarcastically.

☠

Upon returning to his dorm Choso took a shower, graded papers and tried to fall asleep but inevitably jerked his cock off to you.

Twice. 

The sounds and images of your ditzy little laugh and skippy little panties consumed him as soon as he closed his eyes. The phantom feeling of the way your nipples felt pressed against his chest and how you clung to him desperately had him feeling near insatiable. 

Choso admittedly thinks of killing you often. Just to get some peace of mind.

It wouldn’t be difficult at all to pull off. It’s not like you could put up much of a fight against him.

He didn’t want to break his rule of killing anyone with a connection to him but Choso had also never had anyone stir him the way you did. 

You were a distraction and liability to him. If he killed you he could finally stop thinking about you…right?

You would make a beautiful death painting too.

Choso imagines thick red blood splattered across your curves. 

The fatal gash from the femoral artery in your thigh oozing out a continuous stream of blood. The cut would have to be considerably deep too considering how meaty your thighs were. 

Would the blood streak down your long leg as you desperately tried to hobble away from him in your slutty red heels?

Or would you collapse in fear and surrender to him fully? Landing in such a way that allowed the blood to redirect backwards and soil the flimsy red panties poorly concealing the fat of your cunt as you cried out in fear.

Fuck. 

He was hard again. 

He reached over to his night stand for his lotion bottle– practically empty thanks to his nonstop fantasies of you.

God, he was pathetic.

☠

The school week that followed was relatively uneventful. 

You passed your lab midterms much to Choso’s surprise. Although you always seemed to pass with a relatively decent grade despite how you struggled to get there. Holding firm to your B average in the class and 3.3 GPA in your major overall.

He had to admit you were a better student than he originally gave you credit for. It makes him recall when he first saw you last spring. 

You were a late enroll to Forensic Biology 101. Not only that, you burst into the third class of the semester nearly 15 minutes late.

Oblivious to all the eyes your disruption earned, you leaned on your knees as your chest heaved from exertion giving the entire class an amazing view of your tits spilling from your pink crop top adorned with the prestigious “AKA” sorority. 

You definitely would have given the class an additional show from bending over in your tight green jean skirt had your ass not been facing the door. Choso eyes couldn't help but travel down the length of your legs, your glossy white painted toes peeking out strappy pink pumps. 

You smiled brightly once you caught your breath and apologized for your late entrance but you were newly voted chapter vice president and had just come from your first meeting. 

Surely you had the wrong classroom.

“Er– this class is Forensic Biology 101 young lady.” The older male professor had given you a once over also thinking you must be lost.

“Mhm, yup! I’m Y/N! I just changed my major!” you beamed and handed the professor your schedule.

He looked at it and back at you twice.

“Hm, well so it is…but you are already behind, little lady. Go and take a seat next to the T.A. in the back, Choso Kamo, he will catch you up.”

Just his luck. Choso didn’t want to babysit some sorority bimbo who would probably drop this class in two weeks once the labs started. 

Your university was famous for the forensics program. If you graduated you were all but guaranteed a job at a prominent lab in a major city but more than two thirds of undergrad students dropped it once the rigorous labs began. 

You didn’t look like you would last.

Especially when you told him your interest in forensics came from watching Dexter. You told him how you thought the actor was hott and how his kill rooms were ‘so cool.’ Choso definitely rolled his eyes at that and wrote you off as a soon-to-be drop out.

You proved him wrong though. 

You were a bit of a ditz and a huge clutz but Choso came to understand t's more because you had about a billion different things going on in your head at once rather than you just being dumb or careless. 

You were also a hard worker. 

It was admirable how many activities you were involved in yet still tried as hard as you did in your classes. You always came to his T.A. review sessions and even sought him out at times while he was in the research library to ask him questions. 

You were a good student and he was a horrible T.A. for even thinking of you in this way. 

The campus bell tower struck noon in the distance and Choso looked down to see that he had only read a single paragraph since he sat down to study thirty minutes ago.

Fuck, he had lost himself in thinking about you again. 

Choso put a hand over his face. 

He was sitting alone at a picnic table on the outer, less populated edges of the quad trying to read a textbook but every time he heard a high pitched giggle he snapped his head up thinking it was you.

Class schedules were a bit different due to midterms and he hadn’t seen you the entire week other than to administer the lab but that didn’t mean you didn’t still plague his thoughts more increasingly as of late.

It was making Choso a bit reckless. 

Needing to relieve stress he had created 2 more death paintings. A mistake as it was rumored the local police would soon reach out to bigger towns for more help and perhaps even the FBI would send an agent soon to campus if this kept up. 

He had to move more carefully. 

Maybe make it look like there were multiple Ghostface killers for starters.

“3 Victims, One Week: The Copycat Ghostface Reign of Terror Continues!” 

You read aloud adding a bit of dramatic flair to your voice as you recite the front headline of the campus paper and jar Choso from his thoughts of you. 

Speak of the devil.

You approached Choso at his table and he immediately noticed you were wearing his jacket again, well more like swimming in it as it was clearly too big for you.

This time though you were bundled up in a scarf, leggings and heeled booties. He was glad his face was already a bit red from sitting out in the cold because he couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from forming that you looked even sexier cozied up and comfortable in his jacket than in the slutty sailor costume.

“I don’t know why you even bother reading that shit Y/N. They never have any interesting details anyway.” Choso tried to feign disinterest in your arrival but his leg was already slightly bouncing under the table, nervous energy returning.

“Well I have to! You wouldn’t go to the crime scene for me last Saturday, remember?”

How could he forget?  

However a part of him did want you to view it though, his masterpieces, his kills. 

See how glorious their blood looked sprayed on the walls, the ground, and the general surroundings of his victims. 

But he knew you’d never appreciate them the way he did even if you were a forensics student.

“Oh and sorry!” 

You interrupted his thoughts once again.

“I meant to give you back your jacket, I’ve been carrying it with me hoping I’d run into you but I ran out today and forgot mine…whoops! I hope you don’t mind me wearing yours a bit longer?”

Your saccharine smile has Choso sucking in a hard breath. 

At this point he would prefer you to just keep it, he couldn’t trust himself if he had it back with your scent all over it knowing you had been carrying it around all week.

He would never know any peace.

“Keep it as long as you need.”

“Kay!”

You smile at him as you haphazardly plop your overstuffed tote bag down next to him, which of course spilled all its colorful contents all over the table. 

“Oh Crap!” 

You lean over to reach for your bag but almost spill the tray of hot coffees in your hand.

“Y/N, Watch out!” 

Choso grabbed the tray before it could spill all over his and your belongings and sat it down on the table with a small exhale.

“Oh! Thank you!” You flash him a big grin. “I got this one for you!” 

You handed him a grande cup with ‘pumpkin spice dirty chai’ scribbled on it.

Choso preferred his coffee black and he has definitely told you that before but you always just brought him whatever sugary drink you ordered saying he needed to ‘try new things’. 

He wasn’t about to turn you down though, caffeine was caffeine and as a PhD student he needed all he could get. Choso also knew it was your way of thanking him for helping you so much in forensics.  

“Thanks...” Choso mumbled taking a sip. Shit this is actually good.

You sat down next to him, a little too close for comfort with your spandex clad thigh brushing up against his leg.

“Whatcha reading? Is it for your thesis?” You were perilously close leaning on him as you looked over his broad shoulder onto his textbook.

“Yeah, some forensics texts I need to review for citations. This section focuses on serology and bloodstain pattern analysis,” Choso stated knowledgably. 

“Oh! Like in Dexter!” 

“Yeah, Y/N, like in Dexter.” 

Maybe Choso is growing a bit soft as he can’t resist but to crack a small smile at your kid-like-enthusiasm for the subject, you were incorrigible. 

Choso also doesn’t miss the way your eyes sparkle when you ask him to tell you more about his research. 

And so he does.

Sometimes Choso forgets how easy you are to talk on the subject. To be frank no one outside his own PHD program ever asks him about his thesis so before he realizes it he’s letting his guard down to indulge you.

You both get so lost in the conversation to the point it hasn’t even phased Choso yet that you are now actually leaning on him. 

Your soft cheek rests near his shoulder and your body angles deeper into his as you point to ask him about a passage on the page which he begins to break down.  

You try to focus on his words but in the midst of Choso’s explanation your eyes stray from the text up to his face. 

You feel your body start to warm.You always thought he was attractive. His dark looks never deterred you if anything they were refreshing from the crew cut preppy jocks around you. Even more so with his piercings in.

Choso never wore any of his piercings during classes or while in the research library. You counted six facial piercings in total from the three on his brows to the septum, labret and finally the black bar piercing through his tongue that darted out exposed with the movements of his mouth. 

Studying him further you discover for the first time his tattoo across the bridge of his nose was actually covering a scar. It looked old but like it had been deep. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if it had hurt him and why he chose to cover it. 

You didn’t even realize you had reached out to touch it until you felt his gaze snap to you. 

Stunned and a bit embarrassed, you withdraw your hand.

“Ah, sorry I just noticed your tattoo was covering a scar…” you trailed off hoping he wouldn’t be annoyed with you.

Annoyance was the last thing on Choso’s mind as finally registered how you had melded yourself into his side body. 

Although his usual reaction would be to withdraw back, you might as well have him chained down to the table now as he was practically immobilized by you not even being able to look away. 

“Uh, yeah it happened years ago when I was a kid...I fell off the monkey bars, there was a lot of blood.” 

No one had even recognized it since Choso had it covered years ago. You were the first.

“Oh no! I loved the monkey bars, we used to climb up on them all the time when I was little. I guess those things are kinda dangerous huh? Actually, I’m kinda shocked I never fell, a miracle right?” 

You laughed and Choso found himself smiling at you again. 

You were too accident prone so it really was a miracle. 

“Yeah, good thing you never fell Y/N… It would be a shame to have to get a big ugly tattoo on that cute face.” 

Choso swore on his life those last words only were said in his head but from the way your eyes widened he knew he fucked up.

“I- that is.. I meant-”

Choso smacked a hand over his face. He can’t believe he just said that out loud to you. He was really losing it. 

“So you think I’m cute?” you teased giggling. You angled your head so you could look up at him from underneath his hand.

“Yeah, about as cute as the blood splatter diagram on this page.” he teased you back. A small smirk on his features as he peeked at you through his fingers.

“Hey!” 

Choso chuckled. Little did you know he actually paid you a huge compliment comparing you to something he thought so alluring as blood.

You grab the hand covering his face as your smile widens and you playfully struggle with Choso. 

You don’t become aware of your close proximity until you almost bump noses.

Choso locks eyes with you and you feel your tummy tighten as you bite your lip. 

You’re still holding his hand and after a while you work up the courage as your other hand comes up to touch his face. 

“Your tattoo isn’t ugly Choso,” you breathe out softly.

Choso closes his eyes as you trace the scar beneath his tattoo. 

You weren’t sure what you were doing but your hand involuntarily begins to travel across his face and his piercings until they graze over his lips and he opens his eyes again.  

Startled by the sudden hungry look in his eyes you pull back your hand but he captures it in his own, him being the one to trap you this time.

If either one of you just moved even an inch forward your lips would touch. You see Choso’s lips part when–

“Yo! Hands off my girl, freakshow!” 

“Dean!?” You pulled back out of Choso’s embrace, floored to see your boyfriend and some more of his football buddies heading towards you as you knew they still should have been at practice around this time.

“Oooh he’s in for it now messin’ with Dean’s girl.” Dean’s football friends snickered.

Choso audibly breathes out in exasperation. The moment was ruined and he really didn’t have the patience to deal with your neanderthal boyfriend and his football lackeys who all shared a singular brain cell. 

Didn’t they have a ball or something to chase?

“Uh hey, Dean I..” 

You stop yourself when it’s clear Dean is ignoring you entirely as he approaches the table. Not even looking your way to greet you. 

His aura oozes faux tough guy bully and walks straight up to Choso to size him up leaning on the table to tower over him.

“I’m talking to you, freak. You think you can put your hands on what belongs to me?”

Choso doesn’t look up at him but his grip instinctively tightens on the pen in his hand under the table as if it was Ghostface’s hunting knife. 

Dean’s show of bravado going ignored by Choso pisses him off even more that his teammates are with him and the tough guy act is failing to have any real effect. 

Tch. 

With a swift movement Dean knocks Choso’s coffee over on the table, its half drunken contents falling on both you, Choso and his books. 

This has Choso rising out of his seat as he thinks your boyfriend must have an unknown death wish.

Choso’s pen is still in his grasp but by his side now. It would be too easy to drive it into Dean’s neck before the dolt even knew what hit him. A bit extreme, but it could be considered an unfortunate accident of self defense if Dean struck first.

Fortunately, you stepped in between the two in order to diffuse the situation without picking up on Choso’s murderous intent. 

You chewed your lip. This was low key, your fault. You technically were dating Dean. Although Dean was always the furthest thing from your mind when you were around Choso. 

You didn’t even feel guilty for being caught as you’ve had your own suspicions for a while Dean had been cheating on you anyway, you just couldn’t prove it. You were still dating him more out of convenience than anything else, other jocks and frat boys left you alone knowing you were with him.

The only guilt you actually did feel was for Choso. This wasn’t his problem or relationship but of course Dean was a big enough asshole to make this into an actual issue with Choso since it was becoming clearer how little respect he had for you.

“Dean, what the hell is your problem!? You got coffee everywhere, this isn’t even my jacket.” 

“Don’t what the hell me Y/N, you're so fucking dumb you’re going to let this freak get in your pants when– wait you’re wearing fucking his jacket!?” 

Dean was yelling now and a small crowd was forming and starting to take out their phones to record. 

You could not let this turn into an incident.

“Dean chill the entire fuck out, would you?! It was cold, so he let me borrow it– He’s just my T.A.”

A wave of harsh realization washed over Choso. 

Just her T.A.

Right.

Choso is no one important to you, especially with your football boyfriend and social standing on the line.

He’d let whatever the fuck almost happened between the two you just now make him forget that. 

Not anymore.

“That’s right. I’m just her T.A. So if you’ll excuse me.” 

Choso turned from you both to salvage what he could of his books and leave.

You couldn’t place the emotions in Choso’s words and it made your chest tighten up. But you weren’t trying to write him or your almost-kiss off. 

You didn’t mean for it to come out that way but you really lacked the proper words in these kinds of situations.

“Where do you think you’re going, loser?”

Dean grabbed Choso’s shoulder but the intense murderous look in his eyes made Dean release him just as quickly as if he had been burned. 

Even his football goon friends unconsciously took a few steps back feeling the very real threat in Choso’s eyes. 

Choso smirked as he left. Thought so. 

“W-wait Cho–”  

You want to stop him but feel Dean’s rough grip on your wrists.

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.” 

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag. 

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off. 

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: I promise it won't take as long for the second part to come out. I'm half way done with it already! I was just going to wait and post it all together but a like 12k+ word post all at once would be insane lmfao. After I am finished with this prompt the next 3 stories I will do will be from Thrilling Ghouls as they are all much shorter PWPs in the 3-5k range and I won't have to stress so much since I'm realizing all my Smooth Criminal prompts are longer fics and it takes me like a week or more to write them.

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13

comment on m.list to be tagged in future Kinktober '23 stories

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to come steal your panties although comments and likes are appreciated all the same!

PART 2

#☾﹒✖☠𝘬𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 #♋︎kizzatcooks #♋︎kizzatcookedthat #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #choso kamo smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen #choso x you #choso x black!reader #jjk choso #choso kamo #choso smut #choso x female reader #choso x y/n #choso x thicc reader #choso x black reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x black reader

[razzle-n-dazzle]

- hi ! 💌,,

ISTG you’re writing is so well done and creative I had to contain myself from like spam!!

I hope you’re still taking request and if you’re not that’s totally cool, I’ll wait ‘till next round.

Adam reincarnates in hell and oh, would you look at that? the s/o is the only one trying to help and not making him feel worse that he already is. (i just need wholesome content, exam week is killing me rn).

AGAIN, love you’re writing thx for reading so far!

ᯓ★ Let's Give This Another Shot (and not fuck it up this time) Sinner! Adam / Sinner! Reader | Drabble

‗ content / trigger warning: fluff, swearing, Adam being Adam, not proof read (we die like Adam) ‗ author's note: this is for everyone who's dealing with exam weeks, it sucks but I believe in all of you any you're going to kill those exams! (don't let them kill you!). Also thank you so much for the compliments Anon <3, I write for the people and myself, so I'm glad everyone is enjoying the crazy shit I've posted here!

ᯓ When you fall from grace, it's not a pleasant feeling; That Adam knew - or at least he thought he knew - well enough from hearing about Lucifer falling, hearing the horrific things the others whispered about it, mentioning it in passing before the thought disappeared and dispelled into the air as though Lucifer had never held a place in Heaven. As though he was nothing that what he was now, demonic figure that wore a crown made out of skeletons and bones fashioned to mimic horns. Adam never cared about the stories that were whispered, about the horrors he sometimes heard through passing, about Sera recalling how she heard Lucifer scream on the way down, about how Michael watched with horror as Lucifer tried to shield Lilith and himself, about how Gabriel heard his pleads and couldn't do anything; No one could save him from the fate that had been weighed on his shoulders as soon as he had fed the apple to Eve. And partly it was because Adam blamed Lucifer for ruining his paradise, for infecting the mind of both his (ex) wives and causing him grief and pain. Dying alone is almost just as unpleasant as falling from grace; almost.

ᯓ You see, while Adam had died alone on Earth, at least his soul went to somewhere pleasant and he was able to continue living; To make a name for himself and, he guessed, make some friends and live a rather worriless and carefree life in the clouds. He was able to have fun, rock out, and be known as the first human soul ever being able to reach Heaven - that was something not even Eve managed to do, and he took it with pride! It was his title. It was partly who he was. Maybe it was all he was. That much became more clear to him when he found himself waking up in Hell again, the stabbing pain of a dagger striking his back still their along with the weight of his wings. At first, he had thought he managed to survive the assassination attempt, that Lute had just left him in Hell on accident or because she thought he was dead. It caused some sort of pride to well in his chest, a flame that sparked his need to go boost and scream at the top of his lungs - he had survived an angelic weapon! He was immune! He was the strongest angel there was, because Sera would totally fall and die in a sad crumble after being stabbed with angelic metal! He was . . .

ᯓ And that's when Adam happened to pass by a mirror, or well more of a reflective glass on the street of Hell (as he walked, not questioning the odd ball looks he got), and that's when he saw it; What looked like a stranger to be staring back at him, engulfing and taking over his reflection like they owned it, like it was there own. That wasn't him! Well, it looked like him, he could admit that, but it wasn't as sexy or as handsome as him! The reflection would copy his movement, snarling as he did and grinning all the same. With his same fluffed up hair and piercing eyes, the reflection wore no mask yet still held the horns of his all the same; Even the way they slowly curled back before dipping down, forming and L for the gold spikes to rest at the end. The reflection wore his exterminator uniform, yet it was the darker version with the yellow having somehow been dulled and deepened and faded out all at once. His wings were still golden, still tucking at his sides from under his arms all the same, though there was no halo to accompany them this time. And Adam almost wanted to laugh, maybe it was hysteria or maybe it was disbelief, yet he watched to cry and laugh and break the glass all at once; Denying that this was his fate, being unable to stomach that he, First Man Adam, was not only double dead yet in hell. Hell! The first man cannot be in hell, he had created everyone on Earth; All of them came from his nuts and in turn all of them should be praising the fucking land he walked on because if it wasn't for him he wouldn't be here!

ᯓ And yet the Reflection looked back all the same, teasing him with a distorted grin; Like it could feel his distress in the way he curled his fist, pulling back before he slammed it against the glass. It gave a crack, a small one at first, before completely shattering. Adam could care less what shop or business had that glass, he could care less how he effected them or how he was going to be painted in Hell, because this was some crazy mistake! He was not supposed to be down here and he was not going to stand for some stupid mistake that happened because some small crazy bitch decided to back-stab him! Literally! And yet, if Adam wanted any of the answers he so desperately craved, he would have to suck in some of his pride and trudge along to the damn Hotel and talk to the residence who had taken his life. It would take him a while before he accepted such a fate, taking the chance between deciding and doing to walk along the Pride Ring before stumbling into the wrong town and being chased out by crazy demons who wanted to bite him! Maybe even eat him . . . What crazy place is this?!

ᯓ When Adam had begrudging and reluctantly knocked on the new Hotel door, which he would never admit to stopping and marveling at for a second, he would feel that ever irritating dread weigh in his stomach. Who wouldn't feel such a feeling after coming to the front door of a group of people you had tried to exterminate only, Adam didn't know how long, prior! Maybe, silently, somewhere inside Adam knew if he were in their shoes, having faced what they had, he wouldn't accept him either; He would throw him to the curb. Yet, he didn't exactly like that thought, and it wasn't very on brand, so he shoved it down and away and deep until all the could think about is: How in the hell would they not accept me? I'm Adam, I'm the first man! And yet when the door opened, allowing Adam to come face to face with none other than Vaggie, he felt that dread creep in a little. But, not enough to stop him from greeting Vaggie in a less that desirable way, "What's up Vagasaurus?" The sneering comment left his mouth, "I love what you did with the place. You know, it looks slightly less like a destroyed pile of Sh-" Yet the door would only slam in his face before Adam could finish his thoughts or his words; Leaving him standing outside, a tad awkwardly, waiting for the doors to open again. He, also, would never admit giving a glance behind him, making sure no one was standing there to watch him standing in front of the doors.

ᯓ "Vaggie, who was that?" Charlie would call to her girlfriend as she walked away from the door, coming towards where Charlie sat on the floor organizing new activities that everyone could do. All while Nifty rushed around nearby, cleaning Sir Pentious' and Dazzle's memorials in the new Hazbin Hotel. She muttered to herself quietly, not bothering Angel and Husk, who sat at the bar. "No one important." Vaggie would mumble, not being able to catch her tone before it could reveal that it was someone less than desirable. Possibly another sinner choosing a path of redemption after the last extermination! Which the thought caused Charlie to gain a burst of energy, barreling onto her feet so quickly that she knocked around the carefully organized slits of paper on the floor. Vaggie tried to protest, saying it was truly no one at the door and Charlie should just leave it alone! But she was never a really good lair, "Oh calm down Vaggie, I'm sure it's no one bad!" Charlie would grin with a wave, her hand touching the crisp and cool metal of the door handle before swinging the door back open. "Hi, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! How can I-" And yet her words fell flat as soon as her eyes were locked onto Adam's - who quickly spun around, pretending like he hadn't just been looking behind him - and was also welcomed by his light groan of annoyance. "Oh fuck me." ". . . help you." Charlie's voice flattened, dropping as her eyes widened. You know, she's never felt this shocked to see someone at the steps of the Hotel before since Alastor had came along without warning.

ᯓ "Adam?!"

ᯓ "BITCH CAN YOU NOT SHOUT MY NAME?!" Was the next words that were exclaimed out of the ex-angel, the now outcast, as he seemed rather eager to push Charlie inside of her own Hotel and walk in after; Quickly shutting the door as though there was someone outside waiting and stalking him, watching him with all their attention. "Hey no, you cannot just let yourself in here this isn't Heaven!" Vaggie was swift to march her way over to the two, seeing as Charlie wasn't doing anything to discard of Adam she might as well do it herself! No way was she going to let some two-timing exorcist angel not only push her girlfriend around yet also push his way into the hotel. Who did he think he is? And yet Charlie waved out a hand, stopping Vaggie in her tracks. There was confusion, and the two at the bar would turn their heads, before scowling seeing the fallen angel. Adam was sure he could hear Angel's accented voice loud and clear shouting out, 'oh what the fuck is this bullshit!' before Charlie began to talk to him again in a rushed fashion; One he remembered quite well during the meeting that Lucifer subbed her in for instead of coming to it himself, and he was still annoyed by her voice. "What are you doing down here? I thought you-! You know . . . " Charlie rushed out, trying to make it quick as though the others at the hotel would jump and kill Adam again with no remorse, finishing the job that clearly didn't stay permeant the first time; And, honestly, Adam wouldn't put it above anyone here to do that. Adam, who had been picking at his teeth with his pinkie finger, would turn away from Charlie and shrug his shoulders, "Yeah, well, I fuckin' did and ended up down here for some fucking reason, probably a mistake and mix up of souls. I'm sure you have plenty of those down here, pft!- I mean who else would want to stay in this charity case!-" "We're not entertaining you Adam!" Vaggie would cut off the ex-angel, causing his interest to peak over at her. Though he relaxed quickly enough, maybe too quickly seeing as Vaggie had drown out her own weapon and that . . . nasty little creature stood beside her with the dagger made out of angelic metal; Now that little one-eyed demon could give Adam the creeps, maybe even a little (lot) fright, but not Vaggie. "You know, I thought were all trying to redeem souls in this junk box of yours." Adam scoffed, quickly crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. "Are you fucking discriminating against me wanting to return to where I rightfully belong just because I was an angel before this? Wow, that's a low blow, especially for someone light you." Adam's voice dripped with sarcasm mixed with malice, maybe even still a little pride. "You literally tried killing up like- 2 weeks ago!" Vaggie would gesture to the side, as though trying to compare time to the length of her arm. "Oh shit it's been too weeks?" Adam paused, thinking about it yet drawing a blank and shrugging in result, "Shit, didn't know, pft! That shit must still be fresh for you then, huh? Well, let me remind you all that you weren't the ones who DIED!-"

ᯓ "Adam?" Your voice would slip out into the common space of the lobby of the hotel, honey sweat to Adam's ears; Filling them with a melody that could match the songs of Heaven, running down his spine with the comfort he didn't know he needed until now. But even then, you knew he wouldn't break his 'tough man' exterior until you managed to snag him along, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. "Holy shit, hey Babe!" Adam was quick, rushing past and slightly pushing Charlie out of his way to make his way over to you, over to his love. "What the fuck are you doing in a dumb like this? I thought you said you had your own fucking spot near Cannibal Town!" - It had been the only reason why he had tried traveling to that cursed town, even while knowing its residents might try and take a bite out of him or his wings. He craved for the familiarity of someone in this new world, as he had never felt this vulnerable since his first days on Eden; Earth. God's Earth. "Babe?" A chorus of confused, slightly concerned, and baffled voices followed as Adam came to your side, swinging an arm around your waist and instantly drawing you closer. You swore he was fighting off the urge to flick off the others, a casual fuck you for trying to push him off and out. You could feel their eyes as you leaned up to pepper a kiss into Adam's shoulder, to which he squeezed your waist slightly tighter, adorning a snicker upon his face. "Wait, wait!-" Vaggie started, taking a staggering step forward as her arms laid limp besides her. One of her eyebrows were cocked up, her eyes narrow, "What do you mean Babe?" Your name left her lips, "Don't tell me you're dating that fucker!" She would soon exclaim, tossing her hands out as they finally regained the life they had lost. To which you would turn towards her confused, and then remember oh yeah . . . the battle. The one you hadn't been present for though heard about through Channel 666 News; In all honesty it's why you had came here, to the Hotel, to see if you could try and get to Heaven and find Adam again - praying he didn't actually die but was taken back to Heaven to heal or was revived in some way. "Uh, yeah. Adam's my boyfriend-" You would start with a wavering smile, nerves tugging at the edge of your lips. "Oh, this couldn't have gotten worse." Angel would groan, slamming his head down onto the bar countertop, acting like a disappointed parent; Silently telling you that you could have done better. To which you placed a hand on your hip, about to tell Angel off, only to be cut off by Husk tsking and shaking his head, "I would not put you as an Angel and sexist fucker, but whatever rows your boat." His tone came off dry, uninterested, and a little hostile. And with Charlie's silence, you couldn't help but feel the weight of everyone's words a little heavier.

ᯓ And Adam noticed that, with one glance down at you and your face, his wings would flare defensively and his glare was snapped back at the other demons. He couldn't care less that they had been talking shit about him, he couldn't care less on how they saw him or the reasons they thought you could do better than him; They shouldn't care about whether or not someone was out of their friend's league if they were clearly happy with the person! That, Adam knew - or maybe he believed it more. "Hey, what your fucking mouths!-" He would start, trying to draw you away from the others. Sure, he was no longer an Angel, but he was sure as hell he could take any of them in a fight anyways! And yet, his anger was snuffed like a candle as soon as you placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing in and pushing him back. The breath of ire was caught in his throat, not even being able to reach his lungs, as he glanced down at you, noticing the spark that you had seemingly stolen right out of his chest and placed in your eyes. He knew your reservations of fighting with friends, or with anyone in general, so he couldn't help but feel pride swell up in his chest watching you stand up for yourself, for you and him: "I will not let you speak about me, nor Adam that way!" You defended, shooting a star through your eyelashes that the group; Who seemed just as taken aback as Adam had been before the warmth spread from his chest. Vaggie would scrunch her face, much more concerned that irritated or disappointed, but also all of that at the same time. Your name slipped from her lips, "You can't be serious! He's . . ." She stumbled for a moment, trying to grasp her words, "He's led genocides on Sinners all over Hell! He's like really gross and he doesn't respect people. He's a douche and a dick!-" "Dick master," Adam would correct Vaggie just to piss her off, earning a slight jag in the gut from you and a snarl from Vaggie. Vaggie, who, tossed out her hands once more, yet pointed at Adam this time, "See what I mean?!"

ᯓ "And tell me how you felt when you first lost your divinity?"

ᯓ The question lingered in the room, drifting and sticking in the air, as Vaggie stared at you with disbelief; Her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide, and her stance rigid. You noticed how Charlie grew nervous behind her, how she seemed rather uncomfortable in the atmosphere that been created in the room since Adam had arrived than you. She would place a hand on Vaggie's shoulders, attempting to comfort her, yet failed to pick out any words to say in response. "It's hard enough to leave somewhere you've called home," You would continue, frowning, "To be tossed out like you had meant nothing, like one mistake had deemed you unworthy despite everything great you have done in your life. Vaggie! . . . out of everyone, I would have thought at least you would understand something like that." Seeing as she had gone through the same process herself, yet had always had Charlie there by her side to walk through everything with. Was she implying that Adam didn't deserve the same because of what he had done? Sure it was crude and cruel, but everyone deserved another chance to mistake their wrongs and that was what this hotel was about; And you voiced such concerns to not just Vaggie but to Charlie as well. What makes Adam so much different from Lucifer, or say another Fallen Angel that managed to wind up down here? What makes him less worthy to be redeemed? What made him less of a human soul as say Angel or Alastor? Everyone fucks up in their life and as long as they're trying to better themselves, understanding what they did wrong and why it was wrong, they should be given a chance!

ᯓ It wasn't long before Charlie said that everyone should take a break, and as such you would lead Adam away from the crowd of people and up to your own room in the Hotel. You could feel Vaggie's eyes linger, you felt like she wanted to say something yet let her words fall short before they were ever given a chance. But, even if they had, you were too pent up to even discuss anything logically with her at the moment. And you think she could feel or at least tell and that's why her words fell short, yet you would never know - you're not Vaggie nor would you ever think like she does.

ᯓ You and Adam found yourselves in your bed after settling some matters, such as a change of clothing for him and whether or not you wanted to try and make the trip back to your apartment today; Luckily you had some of Adam's old T-shirts and joggers you had stolen from him from one of the few trips where Adam had snuck you into Heaven - and yet on the same note, either of you felt like going downstairs to face anyone to leave to your apartment. So, with not much to do, you set the TV on as background noise and brain fuzz as you snuggled up to Adam's side. You felt as his claws, at first, scratched gently at his side, pairing with a kiss on the forehead, and then they began to tap the flesh there; Like you were some little drum that made no noise, yet Adam continued until he switched to rubbing his thumb against your hip. "What's wrong, Adam?" Concern dripped from your lips, forcing Adam to draw his eyes away from the mindless television and down to meet you, and your eyes. He had known your attention had been up at him for a while, at first admiring his face (as you didn't get to see it much) yet it had shifted to concern the more he played with the plush flesh of your waist. He wondered if you could tell he was nervous from the start. Adam's eyes would falter and glance off to TV again, his words causing a lump in his throat as he tried to play through them; Trying to find the best combination to spew out instead of talking without thinking - vomiting whatever first came to mind and not thinking about it later. And maybe you could tell the trepidations that filled his head too; Seeing as you shifted your position from his side, pushing yourself up, and instead onto his lap, effectively blocking his vision of the television. Your hands rested on his chest, something so natural at this point yet something that still caused Adam's lungs to halt for a minute and for his stomach to flutter. Even so, he would give you a curious glance up and down, trancing the curves of your body with his eyes as he has done countless times before - yet every time, you managed to take his breath away. "If you wanted to fuck, babe, you could have just said so!" The snarky remark left his lips, meeting your amused yet disapproving face. He knew that's not what you wanted, yet he couldn't help but entertain yourself when you were basically straddling his waist; As such, his fingers would drag along the calf of your leg before his hands would trail up your thighs before tailing back down and up once more. He saw the flutter in your breath, yet you tried to keep your composure. Even if Adam was making it ever so hard.

ᯓ "Adam," You would start, your tone causing Adam to stop caressing your thighs. It stuck his eyes to yours, and he couldn't look away no matter how much his nerves pulled at him to. "I want you to know, no matter what happens . . . I'm here for you, okay? We're in this together. You're not a solo act anymore, we're a duet . . . or, well, more a duo act." Your words sunk down into Adam's skin, they infected through his lungs and ran to his heart before infecting all his blood and his veins. His hands, which had ran up to hold your waist, gave a gentle squeeze as he swallowed down the saliva that built up in his suddenly dry mouth. A duo act? Sure, he knew you two were dating, that you had been for a while, yet even then he had a silent thought in the back of his head that you would leave him, much like the others; So he never considered himself no more than what he had: A soloist. First Man Adam! . . . but now he was able to add being 'Yours' to his list with some sort of fire-like confidence; Burning and bright. It made his heart catch fire, even more so when you would stretch out lightly and lean down to lay down on his chest; Your warmth infecting all of him you touched, allowing his arms to wrap around your back and for his wings to fluff out and wrap around your frame. It was like he wanted to shield you from the world, shield you from Heaven, shield you from everyone and anything that wanted to hurt you. Sure he had the urge before, but now? . . . "You heard that big man?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, your teasing smirk had him fighting for a breath. You would playfully nudge his shoulder, "You're stuck with me, I'm stuck with you're, we're stuck together so you better be getting used to it! I'll fight for you, you fight for me, and we'll get back to that stupid place that outcasted you in the first place!" But he would like to stay here, with you, forever. "And we'll show Charlie and Vaggie that it can be done and that even if you fucked up you have a good heart in you! . . . Because I know you do under all the gunk." And your laughter had never sounded so sweet, and you touch has never felt so soft and loving.

ᯓ A duo act, huh? With you? Adam could get used to and stand behind that thought; Perhaps, even after all this time, he wanted nothing more than to hear those words, or well the meaning of those words, from your mouth since the start.

ᯓ But even then, with the emotions that swelled Adam's heart with nothing but pure love, he couldn't help but nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck. Your scent filled his nose with a warmth he missed, the soft skin of your neck flushed against his smirking lips, a feeling he longed for and couldn't forget. You were perfect, you always had been! "Fuck, Babe, when you say pretty shit like that, it's hard not to fuck you right here and now." Adam would groan before a loud cackle left his lips as soon as you smacked his back. All too used to his ways, you couldn't do much yet shake your head against Adam's shoulder, like a parent scolding their child for saying something offensive. "You ruined the mood Adam!" The huff escaped your lips, it hit Adam's neck and made goosebumps spring up his arms. "Again!" And yet, you didn't protest as Adam tossed you both into your sides with a fever, still cackling as though this was the funniest joke in the world - and you couldn't deny, you loved the sound of his laughter so much. Even as his stubble would tickle your neck as he did so, causing you to start laughing soon after and trying to push his head away from your neck. "Adam! Oh my god, Adam stop that tickles!" You gasped between breaths, struggling to push your boyfriend away as he found joy in your lighthearted misery. Though he would only curl around your frame, not answering your desperate calls of a truce and a stop, and trap you in his arms and wings with no remorse. "You're stuck with me Babe, you said it yourself! Now come here, let me kiss that pretty fucking face of yours until you can't breath!"

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[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 3

Holy hell, guys. Seriously, I love you all. And just seeing the sheer amount of LOVE this story is getting makes me so happy.

Tag list of 50 has now been filled. Any other requests for tagging will be denied. I’m sorry.

Edit: Also if you saw the title as something else? No, no you didn’t. And any reblogs you see with anyone instead of anybody are a figment of your imagination. (*thuds head on laptop* I have the title right on here...in my file *wails*)

Part 1 Part 2

*

Eddie was wrong. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he was wrong and that was uncomfortable. On the other it meant that whatever was going on with Steve he didn’t care about his reputation anymore and that was always a good thing.

He had walked out of the school doors to the parking lot after school to see a Steve Harrington leaning against his van, just like yesterday.

“Harrington,” Eddie said, “this is a surprise.”

Steve ducked his head. “If you don’t want me to be here, I can leave.”

Eddie held up his hands. “Whoa, whoa there. I didn’t say that. I’m just surprised you took me up on the offer is all. Last time I checked your lot doesn’t throw in with mine.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged. “It does now. Now that I don’t have anyone else.”

Eddie’s eyes widened and he cocked his head. “I thought you and Nancy Wheeler were hot and heavy.”

The very idea of the two of them made him gag. Hetros. Freaking insane, man.

“We broke up on Halloween,” Steve murmured.

Eddie blinked. He had been at that party. To sell, of course, he hadn’t been invited. Had even seen Wheeler storm off, but he really hadn’t thought much about it.

“What bridges haven’t you burned?” he asked in all seriousness.

“My kids,” Steve said. “I’d do anything for them.”

“Okay, that’s going to have to take some explanation,” Eddie said, shoving his hands in his back pockets.

Steve looked around the van and gulped. “Can we take this somewhere else?”

Eddie looked over and saw Nancy and some other guy being all cutesy. “Yeah. Come on, hop in. I’ll bring back later to pick up your car when the lot’s no longer crawling with people who want to do you in.”

Steve sighed in relief, his body fulling relaxing for the first time since Eddie started this journey. He moved around to the other side of the van and got in once Eddie unlocked the door.

“Where to, my liege?” Eddie asked with a grin.

“Is the quarry okay?” Steve asked shyly.

Eddie’s grin softened to a smile. “Sure thing, pretty boy.” He started the van and pulled out on to the open road, leaving behind the messy turmoil that was high school.

They made it out to quarry and Eddie climbed up on the top of his van. Steve looked up at him in amazement.

“Uh, how am I supposed to get up there?” Steve asked.

Eddie leaned over the side and held out his hand. “Grab hold.”

Steve looked at it a moment and then back up at Eddie. He looked into those doe brown eyes and sighed. He planted one foot against the side of the van and then took Eddie’s hand.

And was promptly vaulted to the top of the van.

“Holy shit!” Steve said once he was settled next to Eddie. “You’re strong.”

Eddie laughed. “It comes from all the lugging equipment around for my band. And helping out with stage crew.”

“Wow, you have a band?” Steve asked.

Eddie nodded. “Corroded Coffin. It’s a metal band, we play at the Hideout every week.”

Steve bit his lip. “I don’t know much about metal. I tend to go for alt rock bands like Oingo Boingo, Depeche Mode, REM, Tears for Fears...I bet that was a load of gibberish for you.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m familiar with a couple of them,” he admitted. “Not my thing. But I would have pegged you for a pop vibe.”

Steve scoffed. “I have some taste, man.”

Eddie laughed. “I’d beg to differ, but sure. You do you, dude.”

Steve bumped Eddie’s shoulder. “Go on, then. Impress me with your metal bands, since mine are such shit.”

“My favorite is Metalica,” Eddie said, bumping Steve back. “But I like Mercyful Fate, Dio, Poison.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “And I thought my bands had weird names.”

“What the hell is a Depeche Mode anyway?” Eddie fired back.

“What is a Metalica?” Steve replied.

Eddie opened his mouth, but no sound came out. “All right, you got me there.”

“I was talking to Mrs Hall today about my schedule,” Steve said, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. “I have to drop basketball and baseball. It’s too late to drop swimming, but I talked to Coach Burton and he said I should be cleared for competition I just have to see the swimming board’s doctor for final confirmation.”

“So suddenly you have two classes opened up?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, my last two,” Steve mumbled into his knees. He lifted his head with a sigh. “She won’t let me just drop them and not pick up new classes even though the semester half way through.”

“So you thought about what to fill those slots with?”

“She gave me a list of options,” Steve grumbled and dug the paper out of his pocket. He handed it to Eddie.

Eddie looked over the options. “Debate, would double as extra English credit...” he mumbled reading what Mrs Hall had wrote. “Can’t see you doing that one, if I’m honest.”

Steve shook his head. “Me either. I know it’s not just arguing. But I know they can get heated. I don’t need complete strangers yelling at me when I get that enough at home.”

Eddie nodded. “Choir. Can you sing?”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, actually. But I’ve never wanted to join the choir.”

Eddie frowned. “Why not?”

Steve cleared his throat and looked away. “My vocal coach said that I don’t blend well and am very loud.”

Eddie bumped into Steve’s shoulder. “Soloist only, then?”

Steve nodded.

“Sounds like you’d be great at metal singing,” he continued. “Very loud and very in your face.”

Steve laughed. “Whatever you say, man. But no, choir is out.”

Eddie looked back at the list. “Machine work?”

Steve shook his head. “My dad would kill me.”

“Too blue collar for your dad?” he asked. Steve nodded. “I gotcha.”

“Stage crew,” Eddie continued.

Steve sighed. “I thought about that one, but like with the machine work it’s too ‘blue collar’ for my dad. Plus with my concussion, I’m pretty sure either option would be out.”

Eddie cocked his head and clicked his tongue. “Fair enough.” He looked over the list. “Pottery?”

Steve laughed. “Sure, why not? That’s one.”

Eddie nodded. He mentally crossed out all the classes that were seventh period, focusing only on the class that were eighth.

“Hmm...” he murmured pursing his lips. “Looks like what you’ve got left is geology and drama.”

Steve reared his head back. “What the hell is geology?”

Eddie shook his head. “I have no idea, but it’s obviously a science-y thing.”

Steve let out a bitter laugh. “I guess it’s pottery and drama.” He buried his face in his knees again. “I know my reputation is already in tatters but fuck those kids in those classes are going to tear me to pieces.”

Eddie blinked. The mystery that was Steve Harrington was like following a rabbit down a hole, and coming up to Wonderland. “You’re more concerned that they’re going to make fun of you then you are of your old friends making fun of you?”

Steve lifted his head. “Well sure. I know Tommy and them are going to make fun of me even if I stayed on both teams. That’s a given. They’ve got King Billy to follow now and they’re gonna get vicious with it. But no, the real problem comes from the art geeks coming for me because I have invaded their space.”

Eddie almost brought up the drawing class Steve was already in, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He shrugged. “So tell them truth. Tell them you had course correct because of a concussion. Be honest and defer to them in all things.”

“I’m also going to be the only senior in those classes, man,” Steve groused.

Eddie cocked his head. “Yeah, probably. But what else have you got?”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “Nothing.”

They lapsed into silence. Just sitting there for awhile looking out over the quarry.

After some time, Eddie bumped Steve’s shoulder again. “So you want to tell me about ‘your kids’?”

Steve frowned.

“Burned bridges, people who haven’t given up on Steve Harrington?” Eddie prompted.

Steve lit up. “Oh yeah. Sorry, man, it’s just the...” he pointed to his face. Eddie nodded. “I still don’t know how I got roped into dealing with these assholes, but yeah. There are six of them now. Started with Dustin Henderson. Smart kid, smarter than most adults I know. Then it expanded to his friends, which includes the little brothers of my ex and her new boyfriend, Jonathan Byers, and of course Lucas Sinclair. And then I picked up El or Jane. I’m not sure which one she prefers, most people call her El though. And then there’s Max.”

“Five boys and a girl?” Eddie asked, his face twisting awkwardly. “Congrats?”

Steve laughed. “Max is short for Maxine. But don’t you dare call her that.”

Eddie blinked. “Max Mayfield? As in Billy Hargrove’s step-sister?”

Steve tilted his head back. “Yeah...but I don’t think I could separate her from the group now if I tried. And besides, she’d kick my ass.”

“You are an enigma wrapped in a mystery, man,” Eddie said.

Steve looked over at him. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  Part 20  Part 21

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#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailtiha writes

[toomuchracket]

on the bed in my room (d word matty x reader smut)

alternatively titled bejeweled (for @think0fmehigh only), or the butt plug fic. as you can imagine, it's fucking filthy, but also very sweet. hope you enjoy <3

the entire car journey home is silent.

it's not a bad sort-of silence, mind you. matty isn't angry, or upset - in the moments where it isn't wrapped around the gearstick or the handbrake, his hand still takes up its semi-regular position on your thigh as he drives, calloused fingers rubbing soothing circles into your denim-covered skin. he's just… speechless.

you rendered him - matty healy, famed chatterbox - totally speechless. the thought sends a flush of pride up through your bloodstream and into your cheeks.

matty blushes, too, every time he glances over at you. you'd like to think it's all your doing, that he's overcome by how pretty you are, framed by the heather-grey evening sky and illuminated by streetlights - and to be honest, that's probably partially true, knowing your boyfriend and his simp tendencies - but the spots of pink above those fucking cheekbones of his are absolutely less to do with you yourself and more to do with the full tote bag resting on your lap.

or, more accurately, to do with the pretty little jewelled butt plug tucked somewhere in the bag, hidden beneath and behind lace and mesh and silk and rope and glass and silicone and metal. 

you keep your eyes on the road, or look out of the passenger window, but you can still feel matty's flicking to and fro periodically. he watches out the windscreen, then looks at you, then at the bag. a few minutes pass, then he does the same thing again. lather, rinse, repeat.

from the corner of your eye, and because of the close proximity, you notice that matty's gaze always seems to land on your lips. as much as he's obsessed with them, you don't think his look is concerned with desire; he's searching for a hint of a smirk on your face, something to signify that your sparkly little purchase was made as a joke.

he won't find it: you're dead serious.

true, it's undeniable that you picking it up and taking it to the till was partially motivated by revenge - matty (as is his wont) was hell-bent on getting you flustered as you picked out new bedroom accoutrements together, while he smiled sweetly and wandered around the sex shop perusing nipple clamps or whatever as if nothing was the matter, and he certainly didn't count on you casually adding a butt plug to the pile and smiling just as sweetly as him as you did. he managed a whispered “wait, babe, are you serious?”, you responded with a wink, and he's been silent ever since, in sheer disbelief.

but, revenge aside, you do want to try it out, have done for a while. it's not something you've ever said to your boyfriend, out of some crass lingering teenage belief that “only slags want it up the bum”, a statement you heard the boys in your classes at school say so often it might as well have been a mantra. never mind that they got off to watching it online from their bedrooms every night, harboured fantasies of doing it with the pretty girls they watched like hawks when they walked past them in the corridors - if a girl asked to do anal, or anything relating to it, she was a slut. end of.

obviously, that's a load of bollocks, and nobody's said it in your vicinity for five years. but still… it's a hard association to shake. even now, with the tenner for an actual butt plug charged to your boyfriend's credit card and the thing itself on your knee, you’re hesitant to discuss it with matty, resolving to let him be the one to break the silence and bring it up.

it takes him a while, though - to say anything at all, actually. you brace yourself for questioning when he parks outside the house, but all matty does is wordlessly take the tote bag from your lap, quickly kiss your temple out of habit, and go to grab the rest of today's shopping from the backseat to carry it inside. even when the front door is firmly closed behind you, neither of you speak; he busies himself unpacking the tote bag, while you put away the new housey bits and clothes you picked up today.

walking through from the spare room you and your boyfriend use as a makeshift walk-in wardrobe, you find him sitting on the edge of your bed, turning the boxed plug over in his hands. tentatively, you sit down beside him, unclasping your watch and placing it on the bedside table, just to stop yourself nervously biting your nails in the silence.

you needn't be nervous, though. matty turns to you practically as soon as you sit down, his handsome face set in a pleasantly neutral expression. “hi.”

“hi,” you reply with a sweet smile, shifting on the bed to face him.

“so,” matty begins, tapping his thumbs against the cardboard box. he looks down at it before his eyes lock on your own, a tenderness amidst the pretty brown. “this… accessory.”

“yes?”

“i take it that's - and excuse the pun, please, darling - an area you want to explore?”

you bite your lip to keep from laughing, but you allow your cheeks to lift into a smile mirroring matty's as you nod. “i do want that, yeah.”

“alright,” matty nods thoughtfully. “it's just, well, that you've never brought it up until now. was a bit taken aback by it, if i'm honest.”

your expression must sour without your awareness, because he takes your hand and quickly continues talking. “not in a bad way, sweetheart! was just surprised, s'all. it's… yeah, it's quite a thing to be into.”

“you don't think it's weird that i want to try it, do you? or, like, off-putting?” you ask, voice small, looking down at your fluffy socks. “because if you do, we can just forget-”

“hey, no, sweetheart, none of that,” matty gently cups your jaw and lifts it so he can look at you. “i'm not put off by the idea at all - if you want to try it, then we'll try it, yeah?”

you smile as he presses a kiss to your forehead, but it's short-lived. “but do you want to try it?”

matty's eyes narrow. “you're not just doing this because you think i want it, are you?”

“no!” you clasp at matty's hand. “i just need to know i'm not asking you to do something you don't want.”

“oh, my sweet girl,” matty kisses you quickly, pulling back to stroke your cheek. “believe me, you don't have to worry about me not wanting to try it, fucking hell.”

fuck.

you wrap your arms around your boyfriend's neck as you climb onto his lap, enjoying the way his breath hitches when your nails lightly scratch the nape and your fingers begin to work themselves into his hair. these little moments of you holding all the sexual power are fleeting, few and far between, so you exploit them as much as you can whenever they present themselves, and generally just try to make matty fold like a deckchair. “have you thought about stretching me out, daddy?”

“christ,” matty rests his head on your shoulder, overcome. “would you think i was a creep if i said yes?”

“if i didn't fancy you so much, yeah,” you giggle, turning your head to press a kiss to your boyfriend's curls. “but no - i like hearing that you think about me sexually like that. turns me on to know i'm the object of your fantasies, the only one.”

“yeah? that's a bit possessive of you, sweetheart. correct, but possessive.”

“pot, kettle,” you smirk, kissing matty when he lifts his head to stick his tongue out at you.

matty softly nudges his head into yours. “thought you liked that?”

“i do. i love it, being yours,” you reach back and move matty's hand further down your back, until it rests just under your tailbone. “and i want all of me to be completely yours. every single hole.”

“oh, i fucking love you,” matty groans, lips trailing from your own, over your jaw, onto your neck; you whimper as he sucks a bruise into the skin above your collarbone, hips automatically grinding down onto his. “if that's what you want, my perfect girl, then that's what you'll get. need to work up to you taking my cock, though, yeah? have to make sure you're comfortable when i fuck that cute little hole for the first time.”

you whine at that, speeding up your grinding to relieve the wanton need matty's words sent straight to your cunt. “want to start now, daddy, please.”

“hmmmm,” matty holds your hips, slowing down your movements in order to think. he tuts when you frown and grumble at him in frustration, both regular and sexual varieties. “oi! don't be greedy, princess.”

“but-”

“good girls don't say ‘but’, do they?”

you sigh. “no, daddy. m'sorry.”

“you will be, princess,” matty smirks, and you hate it. “because now you'll have to wait for me to start stretching you out. i was gonna do it now, before you got all cheeky, but i'm afraid you'll have to want me a little bit longer. understand?”

reluctantly: “i understand, daddy.”

“good girl,” matty kisses your nose - despite yourself, you smile. “come on, darling, let's have a brew, yeah? and then we can try out that new bubble bath you got earlier, if you like.”

you nod. “i’d like that, yeah. thank you.”

“you're welcome, sweetheart.”

and it's a nice evening, despite the lingering desire in your body not being helped at all by sharing a bath with a naked and soaking wet matty. he's a gentleman, for once, though, hugging you and kissing along your shoulders as he sits behind you in the warm water, singing old love songs into your hair as you lie back on his hard chest, just taking the time to be tender and romantic with you. 

you love it. you love him. you love the way he makes you feel so special, so good, so cared for.

and you'd love him to make you feel like that in another sense, now. matty's touches on your body may be chaste, but there's an inherent electricity in his skin whenever it meets yours; every caress sends a shock through your nervous system, culminating in the bundle between your legs and leaving you wet in a way that isn't caused by the lavender-scented water.

thankfully, he doesn't make you wait too much longer.

after the bath, once you've dutifully slathered each other in the fancy body lotion matty loves stealing from you, washed your hands again, and dried off, you end up in your favourite state: naked, in bed, on your boyfriend's lap, lazily making out and giggling “i love you”s between kisses. it's the most intimate way of being with him, you think, both of you so physically and emotionally open, with nothing on your mind except the love you have for each other.

well, that isn't strictly true - love might be the overwhelming feeling in your brain, but the inkling of desire in the back grows bigger with every kiss. matty's the same, as evidenced by the way his hands move to squeeze your bum tightly, and by the way his kisses get ever more intense, teeth catching on your top lip and tongue exploring your mouth. soon enough, you find yourself grinding on his lap again, electrified by the feeling of matty getting hard beneath you.

like earlier, he's the one to talk first, reluctantly breaking away from your lips and panting. “god, i really want you.”

“feeling's mutual,” you gasp at the feeling of friction on your clit.

“yeah?” matty's voice is sickeningly sweet. “what do you want me to do to you, princess?”

“i- oh, please,” your voice comes out in a whimper, as matty's right hand moves inward from the flesh of your bum, his middle finger circling the outside of the hole you're so desperate for him to fill. “want you to fill me there, daddy.”

“can i? you're sure that's what you want?”

you smile at the sincerity in those pretty brown eyes. “i'm sure, my love.”

“alright,” matty blushes at the pet name. fuck, you love him so much. “can you pass me the lube from the drawer there, please, princess?”

you oblige, matty holding your waist to keep you from falling as you grab the blue bottle from the bedside table. “we'll probably need to get more of this soon, baby. used more than i thought trying to get those leather leggings on last month.”

“fuck, those leggings,” matty groans, closing his eyes and resting his head back on the headboard. “that was evil of you, wearing those to that party and expecting me to be alright.”

“no, what was evil was you actually ripping them off me when we got home. sixty quid down the drain!”

“if you'd seen your arse in them, sweetheart, you would've understood that i had no choice but to rip them off and fuck you.”

you smirk, and whisper in your boyfriend's ear. “did you wish that's what you were fucking instead?”

“well, i didn't wish it… but my mind did wander there, yeah.”

“soon, baby,” you kiss his forehead, placing the lube in the palm of his hand. “especially if we start working on me now.”

matty giggles, not unkindly. “point taken, my girl.”

“i actually will be totally yours in a minute,” you say gleefully, matty kissing your cheek in response as he noisily squeezes some lube out of the bottle and covers the middle and ring fingers of his right hand. “oh my god, that sound. it's so awkward.”

“nah, s'good. sounds like you when you're turned on.”

“shut up. no it doesn't!”

“don't deny it, princess,” matty grins. “can feel how fucking wet you are for me already. i love it.”

you bury your head into the crook of his neck. “just really want you in my ass, daddy. turns me on thinking about it.”

“shit, you’re so hot. my perfect girl,” matty groans - you copy the noise, when his lubed fingers return to circling your tight hole. “gonna give you what you want now, princess, alright? tell me if it's too much, or you want to stop. you know your colours, yeah?”

“yes, daddy.”

“good girl. alright - gonna slip a finger in you now, sweetheart, so i need you to stay relaxed. s'just me, yeah? just me. nothing to worry about.”

you nod, pouting your lips for a kiss. matty obliges, pulling back quickly so he can look at you. when he sees you smile, he returns it with a whispered “i love you”; you return the sentiment eagerly.

and then he starts to slowly push his middle finger into you.

your jaw drops at the new sensation, breath catching in your throat as your boyfriend carefully manipulates the ring of muscle. his eyes don't leave yours the whole time, pretty lips slightly agape as he takes over this part of your body for the first time. neither of you make any sound, your heavy breathing the only noise in the bedroom, until the newness begins to ebb slightly in deference to pleasure; then, you hum at the feeling of sheer fullness.

it feels good. really good.

the pleasure must show on your face, because matty's breaks into a loving smile. “you like it, princess?”

“yeah,” you breathe, caressing his cheek. “i love it.”

“i'm glad, darling,” matty leans forward to kiss you, surprisingly tenderly given where his right hand is. “feel so good around me. so fucking tight. christ, thank you for letting me do this.”

“i should be the one thanking you!” you giggle. “love the way you feel in my little hole, daddy.”

with a sort-of strangled moan, matty kisses you again, harder this time. “are you ready for me to finger it properly, princess?”

“please.”

“always so sweet for me, even when you're being dirty. my good girl,” matty smiles. “ready?”

“yeah.”

matty nods, ever so slightly pulling his finger back out of you, before working it back in. you blink repeatedly at the new feeling - again, pleasurable. “oh.”

“colour?”

“green, green green green. please don't stop,” you moan, shuffling your hips slightly in an attempt to offset how turned on you are. “fuck, daddy, please keep going.”

“jesus christ,” matty breathes, obliging your request. “you fucking love this, don't you, princess? you’re fucking soaking me.”

you nod, breath catching in your throat again; it passes quickly, though, and you speak. “can you - shit - can you speed up, please?”

“think you can take it?”

“yeah, i can take it. wanna take it, wanna take it so bad,” you babble, eyes never breaking from matty's lust-darkened ones. “please, daddy, need you.”

“sweet girl,” a kiss to your forehead, incongruous with the speeding up of his right hand. “grind on me too, if you like, princess; can't neglect that pretty little pussy, can we?”

“thank you, daddy,” you gasp out, rocking your hips back and forth. the friction on your clit combined with the fullness in your ass is heavenly, sending sparks right through your body. “fuck, that's so good.”

matty hisses when you catch the tip of his cock with your clit - he smiles, though, when your eyes widen. “feels fucking amazing, doesn't it, princess?”

“yeah,” you moan into your boyfriend's mouth, sinking your teeth into his lower lip when the pleasure in your body increases. a wave of boldness follows it, and you pull back so just your foreheads touch. through it all, you don't stop grinding, and matty doesn't stop fingering. “can i try taking another finger?”

“princess wants daddy to stretch her out even further?” matty smirks, lips moving down to your neck. “if you're sure you can take it, swee-”

“i can, i can take it,” you nod furiously, almost as furiously as your hips grind down onto your boyfriend. “if it's too much, i'll tell you. i promise.”

matty takes his time replying, in favour of sucking another bruise on your neck - you don't need to look to know it’ll form a heart with the one from earlier. “alright.”

he pulls his middle finger out further than he ever has, until only the hint of his fingertip is still inside you; when he slides it back in, his ring finger is flush against it. there's less resistance than there was when matty first fingered you, but you still feel the stretch of the extra digit.

you fucking love it.

“oh, yes,” you smile slightly dazedly at your boyfriend, who returns the expression eagerly. “thank you, daddy.”

“pleasure’s all mine, princess. now,” matty's face turns slightly more serious. he puts his free hand on your cheek. “i want you to cum for me. will you do that for me, my perfect girl?”

the ecstasy beginning to seriously cloud your brain suggests that that won't be a difficult task at all. you nod, turning your head to kiss matty's palm. “yeah. just… please don't stop.”

“i won't, darling. don't stop grinding on me, either, yeah? use me to make yourself feel good. s'all for you, all about you, gorgeous.”

the praise makes you preen, makes your hips speed up, makes matty move his hand faster and tip his head back as you slide along his dick. “like that?”

“just like that, fuck,” matty's eyes close. “if you keep that up, princess, i'll cum too.”

that's all the motivation you need - you move your hips even faster, eliciting a cracked groan from your boyfriend's throat. he looks at you softly, and giggles. “you're such a fucking sub, baby, it's so cute. getting daddy off just gets you off, doesn't it? my good girl, my favourite girl.”

his words shoot straight to your cunt, to the bundle of nerves already stimulated to the point of climax; the telltale tightening in your stomach signifies you're almost there. you seem to be tightening elsewhere, too, as evidenced by matty's “christ, i can't wait to fuck you here”.

your head drops onto his shoulder, his left hand coming up to hold you there while your hips thrash - there's no other word for it - in pursuit of your imminent orgasm. “please.”

whether you're begging for him to fuck you or to let you cum, you've no idea. neither does matty, but he addresses both things, cooing into your hair while his fingers refuse to let up on you. “cum for me first, sweetheart, need you to cum before i can fuck you. keep those hips moving for me, that's it, my perfect girl, cum all over me.”

you couldn't deny his request even if you wanted to. the orgasm hits you like a freight train, dragging a cry from your throat and sending your limbs into convulsions. somewhere in the midst of it all, matty pulls his fingers out of you so he can wrap both arms around your waist, holding you tight and cooing praises into your ear while you come down from the high.

“i've got you, darling, you're alright,” matty murmurs, tracing soothing patterns on your spine. “i know, it was intense. but you were so good, so fucking perfect for me. have a rest for a bit, sweet girl, that's it.”

he kisses your hair while you come to; as your breathing and limbs begin to settle, though, so does a shocking realisation. “wait, matty, you didn't cum! shit - let me…”

“no, no, sweetheart, listen to me,” matty says, firm without being aggressive, coaxing your head up so he can look at you. “like i said, this is all about you. and i've got an idea, if you feel up to it.”

you raise a brow. “what?”

“well,” matty begins, smiling softly. “i think you're probably relaxed enough after your orgasm for us to try out your new accessory, yeah?”

oh. another rush of heat finds its way between your legs at the thought. you nod, slowly, smiling excitedly at your boyfriend. “i like the sound of that.”

“really? because we can wait if you need to, of course, darling, i just think that it'll be less uncomfortable now and-”

“matty,” you stroke his hair, relishing the way his eyes close contentedly. “green.”

he pauses and smiles, looking at you lovingly. “alright. hands and knees then, please, princess. actually, before you do,” he grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a searing kiss. “couldn't help myself.”

you giggle. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” another kiss, then a gentle slap to your bum. “right, face the mirror for me, babe.”

you do as requested, shuffling onto your hands and knees facing the end of the bed. the sight of your reflection in the mirror startles you slightly - not from how fucked-out you look, because that's a common sight in this particular mirror, but because of the clear happiness radiating from you. what can you say, though? you just really love matty, and how good he makes you feel.

and the way he looks at you, like he's doing now; his bottom lip is between his teeth, lust evident in his reflected eyes even from a few feet away, chest heaving slightly with his heavy breathing as he looks at you, all bare and ready for the taking.

as he should. you look fucking delectable.

matty seems to think that, too - before you can even say anything, he ducks out of sight behind you, and half a second later you feel his flat tongue catching the arousal dripping from your still-sensitive cunt, and dipping inside to the hilt.

you squeal at the feeling, a mixture of shock and pleasure. “matty!”

“sorry, sweetheart,” your boyfriend pops back up into your line of vision, catching your eye and winking as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “couldn't resist.”

“s'ok. i liked it,” you smile back at him in the mirror. “but i don't think i can wait any longer for the plug, honestly. m'sorry. i don't mean to be impatient,” you go for the jugular with your next sentence. “just need you to fill up my little hole again, daddy.”

“right, you need to rein in saying stuff like that, princess,” matty groans as he unboxes the plug; the silver jewel on the end glints in the lamplight in the loveliest way. “i'm hard enough as it is.”

“i can see that,” you hum in appreciation, while your boyfriend busies himself with lubing up both you and the plug; you wince at the coolness of the liquid on your warm body.

matty notices. “sorry, sweetheart. here, let me just,” he takes the plug and clasps his palms tightly around the metal for a moment. “there. slightly warmer, i think.”

“thank you.”

“not a problem, sweetheart. now,” matty shuffles into position behind you, excitement practically radiating off him. “are you ready?”

you nod, elated anticipation coursing through your veins.

“words, princess.”

“sorry,” you clear your throat, smiling - and blushing - at matty through the mirror. “yes, daddy, i'm ready for you to put the plug inside me.”

“fuck, that's so sexy,” matty groans. he winks at you. “eyes on the mirror, sweetheart. i want you to watch yourself taking it.”

“ok,” you murmur, eyes already locked on your own reflection.

matty kisses your shoulder, then leans back. you feel cool metal on your skin, and your lips part at the sensation; they slowly drop into an O, matching pace with the plug as your boyfriend slowly works it inside your ass.

your gaze flicks up to matty's face, contorted into a stunning expression of concentration, desire, disbelief. the middle emotion wins out on both of your faces as you feel the jewelled base of the plug meet your skin; you feel so deliciously full, even more so than you did with matty's fingers, and the most turned-on you think you've ever been.

fuck, this was a great idea.

your boyfriend agrees - it's obvious from the way he can't tear his eyes off your bum, emphasised by his murmured words. “sweetheart… you are, without question, the sexiest thing i have ever, ever seen. christ. how do you feel, princess? talk to me, please.”

“feel amazing,” you all but whimper in return. “so fucking turned on, daddy.”

“i can see that, princess,” matty ghosts his thumb up your folds, catching your wetness and circling it around the jewel adorning your other hole. “fuck, i'm never going to get over this sight. my perfect girl, sparkling for me.”

you giggle at the compliment, moving onto your elbows to stretch; when you go back to resting on your hands, you inadvertently shuffle back slightly too much and brush against your boyfriend's dick. before you can apologise, though, his hands are on your hips, pulling you flush against him and grinding into you with a “feel what you're doing to me, darling. feel how much i want you right now.”

“then take me, daddy,” you whine, spreading your legs slightly wider. “you let me use you. i want you to do the same.”

“yeah? you want both holes filled at the same time, princess? fuck, you're so needy for me, aren't you?”

“mhmm. need you inside me, too, daddy,” you meet his gaze in the mirror again. “please?”

your favourite phrase: “whatever my favourite girl wants.”

as soon as he's choked the words out, matty slides home into your waiting cunt, gasping at the feeling. “oh, baby, you really weren't kidding about being wet, jesus christ. and i can feel the plug, shit. how you feeling, princess? colour?”

“yellow. i'm fine, i'm good, really fucking good,” you wave away matty's worries before he can even express them. “just… so full. need a second.”

“of course, my love,” matty rubs little circles into your hips to relax you, staying as still as he can to allow you to adjust to the double penetration. “so fucking grateful for you - always am, but especially now. taking everything i give you so perfectly, my perfect girl. let me know when you're ready, yeah? we'll take as long as you need.”

“thank you, daddy.”

“it's alright, princess.”

you smile at your boyfriend’s reflection - it's eagerly returned - and continue taking deep breaths, trying to get used to the overwhelming feeling of being filled in both holes. after eight breaths, the strangeness begins to subside, and you feel yourself aching for friction, somewhere, anywhere.

“daddy? m'green again,” you murmur, looking wide-eyed at matty. “want you to fuck me now, please.”

“positive?”

“yes.”

“right, then,” matty nods, pulling his hips back and thrusting into you again - not particularly quickly or forcefully, but just enough that you really feel it. his eyes snap shut in pleasure. “oh, princess, i don't think i'm going to last very long. you just feel too - fucking - good.”

his words are timed with his thrusts, which speed up slightly as per your moaned requests. “s'ok, daddy,” you whine, eyes rolling back into your head with one especially good move. “want you to cum for me, anyway.”

“you first,” comes the cheeky reply.

a huff of a laugh leaves your body at that, but you don't think matty's request is an unfeasible one - you're still sensitive from your previous orgasm, he's fucking you within an inch of your life, and - to top it all off - you have the plug in your ass, providing even more stimulation than usual.

put simply, this is the best sex you've ever had.

matty smiles when you tell him as much. “me too, princess. feel like i'm fucking dreaming.”

“yeah…” you sigh, pleasure beginning to gather and grow within your stomach again, increasing bit by bit with every one of your boyfriend's thrusts. “shit, i'm getting close. can i cum, please, daddy?”

matty's grasp on your hips tightens - so do your holes - and he speeds up his movements even more. “do it, princess, whenever you need to. cum for me, all over me, make me yours. be a good girl and cum on my dick, please.”

it's the plea that gets you.

not the plug in your ass, not the thorough fucking, not even the dirty talk and the pet names and the praise. it's matty begging you to cum that shatters the epicurean bundle in your stomach, sending ecstasy careening through your nervous system and bloodstream, and liquid arousal gushing out of you and onto both matty and the bed.

“fuck!” matty practically wails, thrusts simultaneously speeding up and stuttering as he too reaches his climax. “fuck, princess, m'gonna cum, gonna fucking cum. where d'you-”

“inside,” you choke out, fingers clasping at the bedsheets as the aftershocks of orgasm hit you. “fill me up, daddy, please.”

“yeah, yeah, gonna fucking fill you up, fill that little pussy with my cum,” matty mutters to nobody in particular, teetering on the edge of orgasm. “made to fucking take it, take me, weren't you- oh, fuck, princess.”

with that, he's finished, hips flush against yours yet again as he pulses heat into you. aside from your respective panting, the obscenely wet sound of matty pulling out of your cunt is the only thing audible; your limbs give way as soon as he's disconnected, body flopping to the mattress in sheer - but elated - exhaustion.

matty sits back on his knees for a minute or two (really, neither of you have any real concept of time at the moment), looking lovingly down at you and stroking your hair. “you alright, sweetheart?”

“mhmm,” comes the faint reply. “sleepy.”

“same here, babe,” matty laughs breathily. “fucking loved that, though.”

you nod, with great effort. “was so good. thank you. need to sleep now.”

“whoa, whoa, hang on,” matty scrambles off the bed as quickly as he can. “let me get stuff to clean you up first, darling.”

you hum in acknowledgement as he speeds off to the bathroom, too tired to properly notice he's gone; you perk up when he returns and gently starts twisting the plug to get it out of you. “this is definitely going to feel weird, sweetheart, but we need to take the plug out now, yeah? s'too much for you if we leave it in, i think. you good with that?”

“yeah, s'smart,” you wince at the sensation of the metal leaving your body, but it passes as quickly as it came on. “so,” you tilt your head to look at matty in the mirror. “how does it look?”

your boyfriend laughs, in what seems like slight shock. “looks so fucking hot, babe. especially with the cum dripping out of your pussy, too - christ, i really did a number on you today, didn't i?”

“i liked it.”

“i know, sweetheart,” matty coos, gently wiping your cunt with a damp washcloth. “took me so fucking well. can't quite believe we just did that, to be honest. thank you. i love you, so much.”

“i love you,” you use the last of your energy to roll over and beckon your boyfriend to you for a kiss; he enthusiastically obliges. “can't wait until we get to do that again.”

“neither can i, sweetheart, but first… another brew?”

“please.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #matty healy smut #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader

[yazthebookish]

I just reread the bonus chapter and I'm just, as always, struck by how fucking obvious Gwyn and Azriel's set up is.

✨ He found it already occupied. His shadows had not warned him. It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running, Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.

I'm telling you those shadows are going to play wingmen for Az.

✨ His shadows peered over his wings at her. The young priestess smiled--and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows.

Does anyone ever really smile at his shadows except for Gwyn 😭

✨ "Happy Solstice," she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing. -- He snorted. "Are you kicking me out?" -- Gwyn's teal eyes flashed with alarm. "No! I mean, I don't mind sharing the ring. I just...I know you like to be alone." Her mouth  quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. "Is that why you came up here?"

Gwyn really indirectly said he was going to be a brooding ass so let's wish him a happy solstice and let him go and he still teased her back instead of taking the opening she gave him. Also, no one pays enough attention to this detail but SHE KNOWS he likes to be alone 👀 girl is paying close attention to him alright 👀

✨ Sort of. "I forgot something," he reminded her. -- "At two in the morning?" Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he'd spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. "I can't sleep without my favorite dagger."-- "A comfort to every growing child." -- Azriel's lips twitched.

Gwyn has no filters on I love her 😂😂😂 she really indirectly called his lying ass out.

✨ "How was the party?" Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music. -- "Fine," he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn’t a socially acceptable answer. "It was nice."   Not much better. So he asked, "Did you and the priestesses have a celebration?"

For a 500+ year old immortal Az you should've been better at this game, but I'm proud of you for at least being self-aware and trying to have a normal conversation. 2/5 on the effort but still appreciated.

✨ She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. "Do you sing?” -- He blinked. It wasn't every day that people took him by surprise, but..."Why do you ask?" -- "They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?" -- “I am a shadowsinger--it's not a title that someone just made.” -- She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. "Do you, though?" she pressed. "Sing?" -- Azriel couldn't help his soft chuckle. "Yes."

1. Not many people take him by surprise but she did. -- 2. I wouldn't be surprised because it's funny as hell if she asked him because of shadowSINGER -- 3. Azriel taking offense and reaffirming he is, in fact, a SHADOWSINGER. -- 4. Sarah confirmed there will be a scene of him singing, as far as we know Gwyn is likely the only character who knows he does, also the fact that SJM created something common between the two of them and it's that they both sing? -- 5. It's sweet to think that Gwyn wanted to know something about him and asked him about something she herself loves to do, which is sing.

✨ "I blame Cassian for this. He's too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days." Azriel laughed. "I’ll give you that."  

Gwyn complaining about Nessian and Az is like "I can relate " 😂

✨ Gwyn smiled broadly. "Thank you." -- Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch.  

She smiled at him and both him and his shadows felt calm 🥹 like compare how aloof and depressed he was at the start of his scene with Gwyn to him feeling this just after one conversation with her 😭😭 it's so 😭😭 I love them so fucking much.

✨ Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer.

"That charming irreverence" Gwyn is so unapologetic about that irreverence I love her for it -- also, that's a clear, in-your-face, clue about a mating bond. I stand by that and my opinion remains unchanged since I first read the bonus chapter in 2021.

✨ Clotho was smart enough to see through his deflection. She wrote, "I’ll give it to Gwyneth, Tell her a friend left it for her". -- He wouldn't go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but... "Fine. Thank you."  

I don't really find this alarming when people try to push into my face. It's obvious they're not in love "yet" and Azriel doesn't have any friends outside the IC, he doesn't know how to label it. It's still early to even label it. That "but..." leaves an opening there.

✨ Clotho's pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her. -- Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it.  -- But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. -- A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

When Clotho thanked him for the joy the gift wil bring to Gwyn that's when something sparked in him. That's when he started to picture that joy. "For whatever reason" she's likely your mate bro that's why but we'll save that for later. He was aware and conscious enough to erase his smile yet bury the image of Gwyn's joy in his chest. He had a DAMN SMILE on his face while thinking of Gwyn's joy, like, that's so precious 😭 and Clotho is 100% true, she deserves all the joy the world has to offer for her (I just wish it wasn't a necklace meant for someone else). I get the kindness behind the act but it can bite him in the ass if SJM brings it up in the main book.

That's only a teaser for what's to come and that's the purpose of the bonus chapter. I can see why Sarah was more excited for readers to read Azriel's chapter than Feysand's chapter. She knew what she was doing here and what she's setting up. I didn't want to post the earlier scenes since I don't want to deal with people showing up with pitchforks and I don't need to talk about other ships I'm happy and content to gush about my own.

Every time I reread this chapter it just reminds me of how obvious Gwyn and Azriel's set up is and you don't need a pairing to bang or make out to create a set up. We didn't even get much but they are going to be such a fun couple, I need more of funny and easy-going Azriel.

#gwynriel #acosf #I'm reminded of the first time I read it #I was not spoiled by anything so I didn't know Gwyn was in it #when she showed up I SQUEALED #how much I fucking adore her #she really brought some light into what was a dark and depressing chapter #an absolute angel #I already was picking up clues from ACOSF but the bonus chapter confirmed what's coming #and I am fucking ready

[pleasantangelpaper]

Video Killed The Radio Star (Stu Macher x Reader)

WOOOO I love the scream boys, I really do. So, here is the first part of my Stu Macher x reader!!! Let me know below if you want to be on the tag list for any future parts!

Pairing: Stu Macher x Female! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a bad relationship with a sibling, slight allusions to sex, but not really

Word Count: 1.3k

The video store: a world of fun and amusement, a place where horror junkies get their fix and young lovers find some background noise. It is also my personal hell. Ever since I got this job at Blockbuster video, I have experienced nothing but boring work shifts. The whole gig is so routine. Checking out horror movies, rom-coms, and pornos all day gets to be a blur, and there’s only so many times that you can try to mop the stickiness off of the floor before you start to lose your mind. The store I work at is a quaint one. It’s small in size, but it has a rather large number of customers. Most of the customers are regulars, the ones who show up every Friday afternoon to get their fix for the week, but sometimes I meet a straggler who got bored enough to finally use their vhs. Today was not one of those days. 

As I stocked the romance shelf with the newest chick-flicks and romantic comedies, I heard a strange sound, like a movie had fallen off of one of the shelves. I raised an eyebrow in curiosity as I looked around. No one seemed to be in the store. It was 9:30 PM on a Wednesday. Only thirty minutes until closing, and someone was in the store? A thought popped into my head, “Randy… I know you’re here… come out, what are you doing?” I questioned the open room with a tone of annoyance. Randy Meeks was my co-worker, and I guess he could be a friend. He was funny, but sometimes he just was downright weird. Not a word of response was sent back my way. “Randy, really, it’s not funny,”. Suddenly I felt arms grab my face and cover my eyes. “It’s not Randy,” a familiar voice sang. “STU!” I yelled the man’s name angrily, “You can’t sneak up on people like that, it's terrifying!”. He lowered his arms in defense, “Hey, it was just a joke, it’s not like I’m gonna hurt you or something,” he stated. I let out a sigh, “What do you need, Stu, I gotta get home, we have school tomorrow,”. “Ah-ah, the store doesn’t close for another thirty minutes,” the man tutted. I groaned, Stu is a great friend, but he can be annoying when he wants to. “Of course you would know that,”. I began to look back at the shelf I was stocking, unloading the last of the box of new rentals onto the cold metal, and making sure they were in alphabetical order, though I knew that wouldn’t last long. I knew exactly where Stu would be headed, as it was the same row that almost every teen in Woodsboro frequented: the horror section. 

“Do you have Halloween: the Curse of Michael Myers yet?” Stu questioned, flipping through the titles meticulously. The man scanned each movie with a sense of precision. There was always something he was looking for. I didn’t know exactly what his favorite horror genre was, because it seemed to me that he liked them all, and yet, he still scanned every movie’s cover as if he were picking a job to apply to. “Actually, Stu, we may or may not have just gotten our first copy, and I may or may not have rented it out already…” I started with a sense of anxiety, fearing that Stu would be upset by the fact that I had already rented the movie. I don’t know why I felt that I had to forfeit my rental, but something about Stu always made me give in. “But, you can gladly have it, uh just, uh, let me check it back in, so that you can check it out,” I started hastily walking to my bag, but not before my arm was caught by Stu. “You don’t have to do that,” his voice sounded concerned as he pulled me back by my arm. “We could just watch it together,” he said. I blushed in embarrassment as the man still had my arm in a strong grip, and because I could watch a movie with Stu Macher… alone. I’ve never been one to succumb to crushes, but… okay yeah… that’s a lie… I’m like totally infatuated with Stu Macher, but can you blame me. We’ve been friends since elementary school. Billy Loomis, Stu, and I have always been a tight-knit group. Of course, we’ve strayed apart a bit now that I have friends that are girls, but we’re still relatively close, and something about him just always pulls me in, and the cologne he wears is just divine, and his eyes, oh his- “Y/N, Y/N… you alive in there,” “ OH Uh sorry I zoned out for a bit there,” I internally screamed as my cheeks turned blood red. “So what do you say?” the taller asked as he looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Oh uh yeah! Of course! We could watch it tomorrow if you’d like, whose house?” I internally begged him to say he could watch it tomorrow. We hadn’t watched a movie alone together… ever. We usually always end up hanging out with Billy, and occasionally, the rest of the gang, but this could be different. “How about I pick you up and we swing by the store to get some snacks, and then we watch it at mine. My parents are gone, so we can take over the living room,” he smirked a little which made me blush a bit more. I brushed any thoughts of romance out of my head, he’s just saying that we don’t have to worry about noise…right…? I nodded my head, “Okay, Stu,” I said with a smile. “You wanna ride home, babe?” Stu asked genuinely. Even though he called almost everyone babe, my heart still did a flutter. “Well if you’re offering…” I trailed off. “Let me close everything up and get my stuff,” I yelled as I was already halfway across the store from him as I went to close down the register.

I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder as I braced myself to experience the chilly Autumn air. Stu opened the door for me as we walked to his car. His car was nice, but rather banged up. He’s quite the chaotic driver. I fastened my seatbelt and sat back staring through the windshield at the town streets as Stu drove. We made light conversation and talked about everything and anything. We brought up stories of past movie nights, and joked about the stupid things we’ve done at parties. As we finally pulled up to my house, I noticed a car parked in the driveway. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. “What’s wrong?” Stu faced me now, his previous happy look changing to one of concern. “My sister’s home,” I stated simply. Stu knew all about my sister and everything she had done to me. He instantly put the car back in drive and started to drive away from my house. “Stu, what the fuck are you doing?” I asked, confused. “You’re not going back there with her, I won’t let you,” he said with a grave face. I huffed and sit back in my seat, “So you’re just going to kidnap me instead,” I half-giggled. “Yep, you’re staying at mine, and you’ve got no way out of this,” he proudly exclaimed. “Oh yeah? What if I tuck and roll?”. Stu took that as a personal challenge as he began driving faster, his tires making a loud screeching sound. “STU STU STOP DOING THAT!” I screamed as the man laughed proudly at the fear he made me exhibit. “It’s just a joke babe, chill out,” He giggled. We continued driving until we finally reached the Macher residence.

#stu macher #stu macher fluff #stu macher smut #stu macher x reader #ghostface x reader #scream x reader #scream 1996 #scream boys #billy loomis #randy meeks #deputy dewey #sidney prescott #scream franchise #gale weathers #scream movies #scream fanfiction

[cathartic-crypt]

im continuing my benny posting by sharing my benny hcs. in no particular order. and very quickly typed up. enjoy ^_^

- tattooed. he has lots and lots and lots of tattoos from when he was a boot rider. all kinds of tattoos. some desert themed, some things based around him, some others depicting things he just likes. he doesnt mind them much nowadays, hes so used to them that he sees them as part of his skin. although hes a little bit iffy about showing others his old tattoos. hes got an image to upkeep after all - speaking of boot riders. he got a canine knocked out by bingo during their fight. so he got a gold one fitted shortly after he became the leader of the chairmen. and it glints like hell - he wears lots of gold jewellery. especially pre-war rings. he prefers engraved ones, ones with little images etched into the metal or ones with short messages rather than ones with gems. he also wears a cross necklace under his shirt - despite his gun and necklace...hes not christian. like at all. he doesnt care for religion and hasnt read anything about the engraving on his pistol or the meaning of necklace. he just likes how flashy and elaborate the imagery looks - by the time the courier rolls around hes 31. he's also 5'5". - he has a dad bod. i will personally fistfight anyone who draws him muscular and dehydrated. living the cushy and comfortable life of a casino boss means hes not some lean bodybuilder - however...thats not to say he ISNT strong or that hes unhealthy. he has a really high endurance, and can last for a long while out in the desert. also he doesnt like admitting it but hes probably a fraction better at straight up punching someone than shooting them at point blank range - since he was always outside and always doing something, he used to have super calloused hands. but again, casino life means theyre much more pampered and soft now - however hes still got one hell of a grip. he can very easily grab you by your shirt and throw you out of the front door without even breaking a sweat - hes Bi. theres literally no way he isnt, fuck you. BUT he really isnt one for meaningful romantic connections, he much prefers something quick with zero extra baggage (i.e. one night stands, friends with benefits) - hes super nosy. and almost terrifyingly good at recognising and remembering faces. he sees a new face in the tops that he doesnt instantly match to a regular? he needs to know their name. and then he promptly loses all interest because the mystery is lost and the people turn out to be, by all things considered, really fucking boring - even further...anyone who doesnt fall for his charismatic charm (or, even worse, doesnt care about his reputation) becomes a nuisance and he NEEDS to at least form some sort of impression on them, be it good or bad. like full on “if you dont form an opinion about me i will pull my own hair out” - he used to have an absolute love for geckos. he didnt tame them, he was more so inclined to hunt than to nurture, but he would feed scraps to the younger ones - which meant they began to follow him around from time to time... not anymore though. he thinks theyre dirty and brutish and a reflection of what it was like to be a boot rider - hes called Benny Boots (mockingly) by people around the strip. at least by those who knows about the three families past. other than that his last name is Gecko. he also personally calls himself Benny 'New Vegas' sometimes as a sort of boastful title because he thinks hes the shining face (not the heart, mind you - thats House) of the strip - hes a huge morning person. its something he picked up, and cant get rid of, from the boot rider days. he wakes up super early in the morning, rising with the sun - and hates sleeping in because he feels like hes wasting time. he goes to sleep pretty late, since new vegas is awake at night, but he doesnt feel tired. a couple hours of sleep is good enough for him.

#ooouoououh this was rlly fun to think abt ngl :3 #it talks #fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #benny gecko #fnv benny #benny fnv #benny new vegas #fallout headcanons #headcanon #head canon #bootriders #fnv the tops #the tops

[wordstome]

your brain holds so many scrumptious thoughts and ideas I absolutely adore reading anything you have to say.

that being said, König and his relationship to god and religion, discuss plz

hold for a second.

I'm standing outside your house with a baseball bat, because what do you MEANNNNNN dumb shit. I won't have you speak that way about these ideas that I like so much!!!

Alright then rolls sleeves let's get into it.

To be totally honest with you, Alexander (my König) just doesn't really think about religion at all. He grew up Catholic, but his family was never really that devout, so to him being Catholic is just something he puts down when forms ask him for religious affiliation. However, since I love some good religious guilt in my men, let's crank his Catholicism up to max.

...sorry, I got distracted by the idea of König in a preacher's collar. Can you imagine a little König in a Catholic schoolboy uniform? Ahhhhhhhhh the aesthetic of Catholicism. So much better than the actual religion. Anyway, do you remember that post "this character believes himself abandoned by God?" I think that's the essence of König's relationship with God. I don't know if you guys remember, but being a kid/teen SUCKS, y'all. I can easily see König going through childhood bullying and adopting a "if God exists, he will have to answer to me" attitude. Later in life I can absolutely see this merging with his anxiety coping mechanism, which is his emphasized confidence and arrogance. I don't think he develops a god complex necessarily, but something adjacent to it. It's actually quite well described in @kaiasdevotion's fic Break My Mind, specifically in chapter 6:

"Frankly, it makes no sense to him. He's killed many, butchered plenty, and murdered countless. Most die quietly, and some die bravely. One bunch dies with honor, a fucking joke of duty they pretend to hold onto. The other bunch, however, dies praying. To a god, to a higher power, to whoever strained voices can reach. But why? Why ask for mercy? Who are you asking? God? But it's him that's holding the weapon, is it not? Is it not König who has burning metal pushed down a bleeding tongue?"

(Kaia, you're brilliant.)

König definitely thinks faith is wasted on God, but true to his upbringing and his anxiety, he has a bad, bad, sense of Catholic guilt. If he felt like a dirty old pervert jerking off to your panties before, he feels even worse about it when his Catholic guilt kicks in. He's kind of absorbed a lot of those ideals about purity and sin, but rather than him caring about his own immortal soul or whatever (he's already done enough shit to constitute being sent to hell, and honestly, sometimes he thinks he's already in hell, so who gives a shit?) he worries about tainting you. As if his own existence in proximity to yours, his unquenchable hunger for your touch will corrupt your very being. He definitely beats himself up for that, but he's also got that demon in him, so it's certainly not going to stop him if you reciprocate.

And speaking of you, I can very easily see König doing the whole Hozier thing where his lover becomes his god. He will worship you, pray to you, and devote his life to you if you let him. The Take Me to Church parallels are obvious: "The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you [...] I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies // I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife // Offer me that deathless death // good God let me give you my life" I think König eventually detaches sinfulness from sexuality, and in fact associates it with virtue. The act of pleasuring his partner is like worship. And it’s a lot more fun than Mass, that’s for sure.

That serves as our segue into Foreigner’s God. Especially observant OGs may have noticed that I used some lyrics from Foreigner’s God as the title of a chapter of Shrike, because it just fit so well. But Foreigner’s God is sooo König (honestly reminds me of @kneelingshadowsalome Fatum Nos Iungebit König)

“She moved with shameless wonder // The perfect creature rarely seen” is just the way König thinks of his lover, very reverent. “Wondering who I copy // Mustering some tender charm” I do think König can and does learn to be charming, but it’s definitely something he learns with age and experience, and it’s still easy for him to be caught off guard and become awkward again when talking to a lady. This is kind of emblematic of his insecurities regarding the way he talks to people.

“She feels no control of her body // She feels no safety in my arms” You could take this line down a very dark yandere path, but for a softer König I tend to interpret it as projecting his own anxiety onto his lover: he’s always going to be some big, (sometimes far older) pervert who doesn’t know how to act or put them at ease with words. He worries that when his lover is with him, it’s always because he’s forced them in some way, and they don’t truly like him or feel safe with him.

“I've no language left to say it // But all I do is quake to her // Breaking if I try convey it // The broken love I make to her” sort of a continuation of both of the above. He finds himself awkward and stoic and not charming at all, but he loves his partner, and he thinks the easiest way for him to convey that is making love to them. Which admittedly he tends to be good at, if not with experience then sheer dedication (his size doesn’t hurt of course).

“Screaming the name of a foreigner’s god” While of course this works for a lover who isn’t Austrian/doesn’t speak German, I think König has definitely felt like a perpetual foreigner, othered by society at several points in his life. His lover is his god. He may be unworthy of them, but he will always be devoted. That’s his own sort of religious fanaticism. It’s like this quote by John Keats, which serves as my tl;dr for this entire post tbh:

“I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion—

I have shuddered at it,

I shudder no more.

I could be martyred for my religion.

Love is my religion

and I could die for that.

I could die for you.”

and that’s Königcore as hell.

#thanks for giving me an opportunity to truly go off my rocker writing #i love writing essays about my little fictional men :) #melancholic-thing #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #answered #könig headcanons

[deyisacherry]

Striked by Stars — (DCA -Sun & Moon- x Reader. Cyberpunk AU)

(title might change)

[Just an idea. Possible Chapter 1]

Your foot taps the floor anxiously, you stare at your tired reflection in the vending machine's glass, waiting for the damn thing to work once and for all. Finally, it makes an almost hopeful sound, while you notice how the food package begins to move forward.

You can already imagine the sweet flavor of the cake, satisfying the hunger you have endured for at least 38 hours.

... Yeah, it's not easy to get something to eat in this city. Or anywhere really.

Your illusion is shattered when the package jams just before it's dropped, and the neon lights go out followed by a stupid, pathetic noise.

You kick the huge "box" angrily, without even getting a shake efficient enough to get your snack out of there... dinner? Whatever.

And of course, the great multimillion-dollar company in charge of creating most of the technology in your district had to make sure that the glass was resistant to prevent theft. That's why it was still here, and also why it barely worked. You suspect you're not the only person who's kicked this thing.

You curse every living thing left and give the device one last blow, before turning to leave the alley and walk towards your vehicle.

Wonderful. Another couple of hours you'll have to go without feeding.

Hell, sometimes you wish you were one of those Sentinel robots just so you wouldn't have to worry about eating. Of course, that was the only reason. The thought of becoming a robotic slave with no life decisions of your own made you nauseous.

You had no choice but to go all the way to the west of town to negotiate with some probably bitter and greedy guy. At least you would get some of the leftovers that are still in good condition.

You got so busy planning something that you didn't notice the constant noise coming from the direction of where you left your motorcycle. A worrying crash startles you and you step back before crossing the corner, pressing your back to the wall as your hand travels to the gun in your jacket.

You listen carefully, avoiding anything that could give you away.

Some bastard trying to steal your vehicle? A Sentinel they sent to annoy you? Did you get so careless that someone followed you?

Well, you better get out there and get rid of the problem before it gets rid of you.

You approach the corner very carefully, and activate the recognition scanner in your glasses, turning your head slowly.

Your hand grips the gun firmly when you see movement, away from your bike, thankfully, but closer to you than you'd like.

It takes you a while to make out the figure. A being with almost human characteristics, staggering as it tries to get up. It fell down, that caused the noise. But there are metallic sounds, machinery causing almost silent grinding noises. He's not human. But it's not a Sentinel either.

The being raises its head and you hide better. It doesn't notice you. You look at it closely and... it's a robot. Not one you've seen before, but definitely not one you should fear, or attack.

Its white orbs seem to scan its surroundings with confusion, or perhaps weariness. It doesn't take your "baby" into account and you sigh in relief knowing that you won't have to kick any more metal.

You study it more closely, while analyzing the information that your glasses give you. Humanoid figure, clearly thinner than ordinary. Probably tall if you weren't looking at it half lying on the ground. Yellow casings. A kind of sun rays around its head. A thematic robot, it seems. Definitely with artificial intelligence, it's not controlled by anyone. Half of its face resembles a crescent and...

It belongs to Fazbear. That's what the data says.

But... "Entertainment"? They stopped using that term a few years ago. "Fazbear Enterprises" is how they call themselves now.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. You know many robots were created by them. Mostly animatronics.

You feel like you should be wary. You have no security knowing by whom it was created.

But...

It looks exhausted. Afraid. Something clearly isn't working with it, and getting up seems like a big stretch right now.

Your hand holds the gun doubtfully. You shouldn't let your guard down anyway, so you stay alert. You clench your lips and fist, thinking of what to do.

You're starving, you can get in your vehicle right away and drive off to try a bite of whatever.

. . .

“Hey.” You speak firmly and as clearly as you can as you emerge from your hiding place, making sure it doesn't see you as a weak human, just in case. The sun-like robot looks up at you, and flinches, recoiling or rather crawling backwards at your presence. Its eyes open in some panic and its mouth that seems not to be able to open showing its teeth in a tense expression.

You raise an eyebrow at its reaction, but given its condition it doesn't surprise you. The information you receive when analyzing it with the glasses doesn't seem to be anything to worry about, yet...

"Who are you? What are you doing in this place?”

The robot doesn't speak, it just watches you and you start to get annoyed. You think you see its rays contract and come out at a rate that resembles breathing. Suddenly, its body tenses in a sharp sound, and it turns its head slightly to the side.

You narrow your eyes and frown. “What's wrong with you?”

You scan your surroundings, but you don't see or hear anything. It seems like you've become less of a threat to it just now.

“...Hey, I'm talking to y-”

The robot gets up with a speed that you don't know where it came from, and takes you tightly in its arms. Not enough to hurt you, but enough so you can't break free. And boy does that make you angry. You can't draw your weapon properly, and there's nothing to kick that will "hurt" it or make it fall. It carries you as if you weighed no more than a feather. You begin to curse and flail violently, until it covers your mouth with its hand. You expected a cold, metallic texture, but it's... Soft? Silicone... And why the hell is this robot so warm?

It moves from where you were in a hurry, you can hear its machinery more clearly. Of course you haven't stopped trying to free yourself or screaming under its hand.

When they reach an unlit alley, your glasses flash, detecting an approaching threat.

Damn, a trap, a fucking trap. You should have known. How dumb, how-

The robot presses you to its body and shrinks into a corner of the alley, allowing you to put your feet on the ground. You could take advantage of the situation to get away more easily and make it scrap once and for all, but...

You hear a Sentinel pass by. The sound of its thrusters becoming clearer and louder as it advances. Your detector would not have alerted you in time. You would have had to fight off guard, and probably come away with injuries, or worse.

The darkness of the place that surrounds you is enough to hide you. Your eyes open intently to the other side, maintaining at least a little hope that the devilish machine will continue on its way. Luckily, you know when it's tracking a target. That nasty, blinding purple light isn't on. Seconds pass tortuously slowly, and then it's gone, until your radar can no longer detect it.

You feel your body relax, and you breathe out in relief, closing your eyes for a moment.

The silicone hands carefully move away from your mouth and body, and you regain your anger at the surprise of the moment, turning sharply and pushing the robot against the cement wall.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Are you insane?!” You blurt out in an angry whisper, just in case the thing could still hear you. “Why the hell did you do that?!”

The robot looks at you in panic, without moving. Its white optics seem to flicker nervously. It does its best not to touch you at all, both hands raised on either side of its head in a show of surrender.

Its silence makes you start to think that perhaps it doesn't speak, or its voice box is damaged. But... it probably just doesn't have the courage to talk.

As you study its fearful expression better, and the slightly scraped or dirty state of its faceplate and rays, you grimace. You release him and lean back.

... It just saved your life.

You don't understand why, but it did it.

And, damn, you still have enough honor to recognize an act like that towards you. Not everyone is that way these days.

Everyone tries to see for themselves. Even in the resistance. Someone less is just that... one more who didn't get lucky.

You clench your jaw, sighing deeply. You run a hand over your face, looking away. Your recent reaction wasn't the best on this one.

This robot saved you even though it wasn't in the best condition, and you perfectly noticed the fear it feels for the Sentinels.

While it does come from Fazbear... it doesn't seem to want to be related or involved with them. You look at it again, and it doesn't seem to be carrying any kind of weapon. The plates on its arms only look like maintenance accesses.

You soften your expression and hold out your hand towards it. The robot shrinks in fear, its rays retract and you understand that it's a way of expressing its emotions. Your mouth twists once more, your fingers gathering in sorrow. You drop your hand to your side awkwardly.

“... Hey, I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to talk to you like that. You don't deserve to be treated that way after what you did for me…” You speak softly, watching as it slowly relaxes himself and also drops its arms tiredly.

It continues looking at you despite everything, it doesn't lower its head, nor does it look away. Or well... so it seems. You don't see pupils in its eyes.

Its rays extend smoothly, and you notice how they rotate very gently, just like a windmill. A small smile appears on your lips at that. It must mean it has calmed down now.

You breathe in and adjust your clothes without much effort. “Uh…” Your hand grabs your glasses and pushes them up, letting them rest on your head. "Thank you." You tell it calmly, not trying to approach it again. You understand that it may still be in a state of shock. “You could... you could have just left. Run, and leave me there… Wow, you could've just taken my motorcycle and run away.” You chuckle tiredly. “But you didn't... Thank you.”

The robot's rays make a quick turn to the opposite side, and you think you see him change his tense expression for a very slight smile just like yours.

You take that as an acceptance of your apology and gratitude, and you feel a little better.

A little, because... Now what? You're still hungry, and you're still planning on going for food. But leaving it here... just like that, would be low of you.

Actions, this is how you should show real appreciation for something so important.

“... Do you talk?” You ask simply, not knowing if you were tactful or not when doing so.

The robot takes a few seconds and nods. Oh, well... so it was just afraid to talk. Well done, you metaphorically "cut out its tongue" by being so defensive.

“Were you going somewhere?... You don't look... Well- you look...” You try to choose the best words, twirling your hand in the air. You click your tongue, straight to the point. “Do you need a ride? Anything?"

Another few seconds of silence. It seems to hesitate, and this time it lowers its head a little.

“… Uhm- You don't have to answer if you don't want to… I'm just trying to-”

“The underground shelters.” Finally it... he answers you, and this time you stay silent, waiting for him to continue. “I must... get to the underground shelters.” He says, his voice soft and slightly interrupted by static. His voice box, in fact, does sound a little defective.

Oh...

“... Whoa, to the- to the other side of town, huh?” The robot nods, almost ashamed.

You and him internally recognize that in his conditions he wouldn't have gotten there on his own.

“Well…” You put your hand in one of the pockets of your jacket, and show him a small control, shaking it slightly. “You're in luck. I’m going to the west too.” You say with a friendly smile, tilting your head.

He mimics you, his head leaning to the same side as yours. Or maybe he's just confused to get your help back.

Either way, you have a feeling this robot was designed to entertain.

His confused expression changes to a cheerful one, his eyes turning animatedly into crescents.

"Thank you..." He tells you softly.

“It's the least I can do.” You say lifting your shoulders simply.

The robot stands up shakily. Not out of fear, but out of the clear weakness of his metal body. You inevitably approach him quickly and help him remain stable. He doesn't flinch, or push you away. He looks down at you with a tired smile. Doesn't he have any batteries that need to be recharged as well? You start to wonder how long he's been sneaking around the city to get to his destination.

“Do you have a name… a- nickname, or something?” You question, letting him place one of his arms on your shoulders.

The robot nods once more. His expression seems a little out of it, as if he was thinking about something else. Like he's remembering. “Sun.”

You sigh with a smile at the obvious coincidence, and adjust his arm tightly over your shoulders, your free arm wrapping around his torso firmly. You tell him your name confidently, and he looks at you, spinning his rays once more. You laugh softly and gently pat his forearm.

With your free hand, you lower your glasses onto your face again, just to make sure you don't run into any more inconveniences. The radar tells you that you're safe, and you sigh heavily. Good, because your stomach is starting to kill you.

You may have had a very small glimmer of regret when helping the robot walk to your motorcycle. Even if he's just leaning on you, putting his arm around your shoulders, he's heavy as hell. Envy growing in your chest as you remember how he picked you up like it was nothing a moment ago. And he was tall, very tall. If he wasn't hunched over, you would barely reach halfway up his torso.

But, leaving him here with the excuse that he was too heavy, would be beyond rude of you.

It's not like you wanted to either. You were serious when you offered to help him.

You both reach where your "baby" was left. Intact, without having been of importance to the Sentinel, and that takes a great weight off your shoulders...

Bad inside joke.

You let him hold on to the vehicle while you get on, so he can stay upright, and also keep your motorcycle stable. You settle into your seat and then turn to look at him, motioning with your head to tell him to get in too, while you start putting on your helmet.

Hesitantly, his eyes flicker a few times and then you see him physically relax, as if sighing. He climbs up and takes a seat behind you, avoiding as much as possible to touch you, you deduce. It's fair. You've just met, in a not-so-pleasant situation, and it's completely normal for him to be nervous or uncomfortable.

You remember how he flinched when you extended your hand to him.

When you saw the fear in his body language, the brief thought that perhaps he was attacked or mistreated crossed your mind.

You don't like that.

It is true that you prefer to go on your own in general, but it doesn't mean that you don't feel complete rejection of the injustices towards the innocent beings that survive in these times.

This robot is one of those beings. Your doubts are scarce.

Your hand turns the accelerator and causes the angelic sound of your motorcycle ready to go. You feel and see from the mirror how Sun stirs uneasily at this. He clearly hasn't been in a vehicle like this before, and that makes him even more nervous.

Another clue is how his hands hold tightly on the edges of the seat, on either side of his legs.

"Hey." You catch his attention and he raises his concerned gaze from the ground to you. “You're not going to fall, don't worry. "I know how to handle this old beauty, okay?" You tell him in a comforting tone, before lowering the front shield of your helmet and directing your gaze forward. “Ready to go for a ride, 'Sun'?” You ask out loud within the safety of the helmet.

He shrinks slightly in his place, his rays retracting again, in that anxious gesture.

You don't wait for an answer. Using the accelerator again, and with complete naturalness, you step on the pedal to start, leaving the solar robot silent of any thought he had wanted to express.

You had already gotten used to the small push generated by the start, so much so that you no longer even noticed it. But Sun... Sun gripped his hands on the fabric of your jacket, on both sides of your torso.

You laugh softly, barely noticeable because of the wind crashing against your body, your amused smile being blocked by the dark visor covering your face.

#daycare attendant fnaf #fnaf security breach #daycare attendant #fnaf moon #moon fnaf #fnaf sun #sun fnaf #sundrop #moondrop #fnaf moondrop #fnaf sundrop #sun and moon #daycare attendant sun #daycare attendant moon #dca fandom #sun x reader #fnaf sun/moon x reader #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf sun and moon #sun x y/n #sundrop x reader #sundrop x y/n #moondrop x reader #fnaf moon x reader #moon x reader #daycare attendant x reader #daycare attendants au #fnaf security breach au #sun and moon au #bleh

[charliesgoodboy]

2010 T. KAULITZ♡

we are enemies, we are foes, who are you, and what are those?

TW: based off of this photoshoot, illegal themes(as in just street racing), almost car crash, near death experience, avril mentions, male leaning reader

TOM KAULITZ who has been heard of around at least half of the world, he's a street racer which 'famous' would be a way to describe him, not much to be proud of if the police know of you but he was doing what made him happy in the first place and he'd go straight back to it if the cops really would catch him, and some could have been fond of him.

TOM KAULITZ who was rumored to be dating at least one of the many fans he'd have, in which that was half true. you were a fan of him yet you were also one of the very first so you had gotten to know him over time, you caught his attention and he was one of the best guys you had ever met, minus the fact he was just a bit of a player but it's only a stage act around others, never around you.

TOM KAULITZ that didn't even want to get out of bed, knowing about the race he was having today. it was against avril and she was almost just as sweet but damn her racing skills put others on the edge, caused at least a few car crashes and it is said she won when her car was half beaten up due to someone trying to sabotage the whole event, making the sport more dangerous than it already was.

TOM KAULITZ that wouldn't let go of you when the race was just about to start, his arms stayed around you as small camera lights would flash and his hands were almost shaking and he'd hide his face and kept hugging you tighter. "i can't do it," "yes you can tom, i promise i'll be right here when it's done." "can you race her for me?" "tom i'd like to value my life, but good try." he was given a pat on the shoulder and a small good luck muttered by you as he went out to his car the license plate having his name on it, and the smell of you lingering.

TOM KAULITZ that thought he had a fucking death wish. the girl already caused a crash and kept on as if she didn't do it. but that was the least of his issues, she almost caused his car to crash into a damn stop sign and he could've lost his life. if it wasn't for you specifically he would have never saved himself so quickly pressing on the breaks for the first time in forever. he might just lose this race, i mean only no one has almost ever won against avril in the first place.

TOM KAULITZ who sped pass avril's car across the woman with the flag as the black and white checkered cloth raised up on his side. he won. holy shit he won, and it wasn't a dream or fake reality either. he unlocked his door looking around for you with a big smile on his face, watching as you hopped over the metal bars running over to him probably faster than the speed of light itself. you crashed into his arms, making him take a few steps back as he went back to holding you tight swinging you around your feet off of the ground and around his waist, your lips giving him a kiss. "holy fuck i won.." "hell yeah you won!" "holy fuck! i won against avril!"

TOM KAULITZ who could carry around the title and fact that he won the most important race of his life. "good race tom."

ya'll i think he won idk tho @gaybitchfx @tokio-motel @reallyromealone @secretivemessenger @maneater69666

#tokio hotel fluff #tokio hotel tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x male reader #tokio hotel x male reader #tom kaulitz fluff #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you

[assaily]

Feeding the fandom some more. :)

Working Title: Hide the Morning from the Stars Colloquial title: Mute Five Themes: I don't even know anymore

This is a Very rough draft. Like so rough I don't even think my tensing is consistent throughout. This is Five's loneliest first year of retirement ever. And also him hanging out with Grace.

Major warning for the beginning for suicidal thoughts and behaviors.

~Post Mute~

Five takes the gun out of his mouth, his tongue flexing against the heavy iron tang of metal. The weight of it is familiar and cold in his hand as he sets it down on the edge of the sink, his shaking fingers pressing the safety back into place.

He’s just being dramatic. It’s all those teenage hormones mixing badly with all the trauma Five honestly didn’t think he’d live long enough to have to deal with. Oh,  and one hell of a hangover. That’s all it is, dramatics. If he thinks for a minute, plans this out, he realizes how horrible of an idea it is.

He can’t make Mom clean his brain matter off the walls. That would be cruel, even for him. Dramatics. Besides, his siblings would hear the gunshot. He doesn’t really want them to find him. Klaus would summon him before he had a chance to cross over and they’d give him a ream of shit for making such a mess. The idea of being yelled at again is exhausting.

“Can’t you have done this at a hotel or something?” He can imagine them saying to his corpse, scoffing and shaking their heads in disappointment. They’re right, of course, he shouldn’t do this at home. 

He sighs, closing his eyes against the judgment staring back at him through the mirror. He tries to settle the shaking in his body but can only seem to draw it in, not vanquish it. He’s never really calm anymore. He wasn’t much before, but at least he could pretend.

These days it feels like every defense he’s ever built for himself has been stripped away, leaving him raw and naked and fragile in ways he can’t compute. It makes him nasty and hateful, covering himself in glass so that the moment someone reaches out, they bleed. He wants to be normal, he wants to be able to have a conversation with his siblings without thinking they’re judging him, and without picking a fight. He wants to scream and cry and beg them.

But he’s not sure what he would beg for, only that he wants something desperately, but something else inside of him, something old and stalwart and terrified refuses to let him ask. So he picks fights, he’s nasty without knowing why, and his siblings hate him for it.

He opens a drawer below the sink and tucks the little ruger beneath a pile of clean washcloths. This used to be his and Ben’s bathroom, but he’s the only one that uses it now. The others don’t really come up here, even less now that the honeymoon period has passed and they have no desire to keep him company anymore. 

Allison mostly lives in California now, Viktor lives out there too, but they both come to visit every couple of months, staying for a week at a time. Diego lives outside the house with Klaus, and recently Luther found a job that would pay him enough to afford his own apartment. He hasn’t moved out yet, but he’s actively looking.

This is what Five wanted, them living their lives and moving on, but he has to remind himself like he forgot. He wanted to give them the opportunities he never had, and he succeeded. He’s not sure why it feels so terrible now, but he suspects it’s only a symptom of the sickness sitting like a rot in his bones.

He makes a point of not looking at himself, wetting his hairbrush under the faucet in an attempt to tame his bedhead. The scratch of the bristles against his skin hurts, so he pressed harder.

Allison and Viktor are at the end of their visit, and everyone is in the house. They’d be gone by tonight, and the house would go back to the coffin it was without the others, but in the meantime, Five wanted to look at least a little put together for them. He doesn’t want them to worry, but with the constant arguing he figures he can get away with less and less grooming.

His hair is getting long and he hasn’t really had the energy to cut it yet. It’s getting a little annoying, the way it falls into his eyes and curls at the nape of his neck. He’d go to a barber if he thought he could get through the encounter without snatching the scissors away and ending the life of the poor girl unlucky enough to draw the short straw.

When he finishes, he finally looks back at himself. He still looks like garbage, his skin an unhealthy pallor, accentuating the dark circles weighing down his eyes. The water managed to tame some of the mess of his hair, but it’s obviously greasy, flakes of dandruff like ash on his scalp. His reflection glares back at him, anger and disappointment like a stone in his stomach.

He really is a dramatic bastard. Today of all days, he figured he’d leave it in the drawer. Playing the wishing game with all his siblings home. He can’t even deny that of the cry for attention it is. Disgusting, really. His siblings could probably smell him rotting from here.

He considers a shower. It would make him feel better, a little more human at least, before he goes downstairs and has to pretend at it. The idea of getting wet, and having to put his clothes back on with wet skin makes him grimace. He doesn’t want to be cold either, because he can never seem to get warm. No use making it worse.

He flicks the light off and  cracks the door behind him as he leaves. He shuffles back to his room to find something cleaner to wear. He should have washed his face, but now that he’s away from the mirror, he doesn’t have the energy to go back to it.

Mom keeps an ever revolving source of clean clothes for him, so that part of his routine is easy at least. He doesn’t have to think too hard about it, it’s the middle of winter so that means layers, and Five likes layers. They don’t really keep him warm, but that’s normal. No, he likes them because it’s a little like putting on a suit of armor. It’s just fabric, but it still manages to trick some animal part of his brain into thinking he might be a little safer. No more warm, but far less likely to freeze.

Which is an odd quirk, considering his insistence to play the wishing game every fucking morning.

In his defense, he doesn’t usually pull the gun out. He usually he just stares at the whelp in the mirror, wondering why the fuck he’s still here when he feels this horrible all the time. Then he bucks up, cleans up, and moves on with his day.

The ruger is just… He put it there in case of emergencies. Doesn’t hurt to have a few weapons hidden around the house in case the commission decides to come knocking again. He’s not sure when he started pointing it at himself. It’s a bad habit. There are better ways, less violent ways. Ways that don’t make a mess for his family to clean up after him.

He’s just being dramatic. That’s all it is. Nothing more. Being a teenager sucks. He remembers how much better things got when his hormones weren’t through the roof, making his emotions sharp and fragile all the time, making the loneliness so much harder to ignore.

This too shall pass, he would always say to himself. Over and over, like a prayer to an unloving universe. Please, just let it pass. Five is pretty sure he doesn’t really want to be alive anymore, but he also hates wanting to die. It puts a grayish filter on everything, on every thought and interaction. He’s alive, and hates living. Worse than surviving and already feeling dead. There’s a certain numbness to the in-between space of not wanting to be alive, but not wanting to kill himself either, and he yearns for it now in the throes of a worse agony.  

But again, he’s just being dramatic. Pesky hormones. This too shall pass and all that. 

He dresses quickly, changing from yesterday’s sleep rumpled long sleeves and sweaters into cleaner ones. He reuses a layer, the fabric of a knitted shirt warm in his nearly numb hands and it’s not something he wants to waste. The bottom hem on the back is dirty, and there’s a food stain on the front of it. It still smells vaguely like the alcohol he drank last night, but he puts it on as a middle layer. His hands are easily swallowed in the outer layers, and he has the idea some of it might belong to Diego. He stole a number of garments from them all last fall, and plans to give them back at the end of spring, if he makes it that long.

Spring still feels so far away, it’s hard to think that far ahead.

Five looks like shit, and he feels like shit, but he still dares Diego to say anything about it when he arrives downstairs. He walked the first part, then warped the last floor into the kitchen once he got close enough. The air was warmer down here, the heaters worked better on the ground floors, and no one had lived in the upper floors until recently. It was his first winter home, and he almost wonders if it’s worth trying to fix. Might be easier to just move, but he likes his bedroom high above the street. He spent a lot of last summer drinking on his fire escape; it’s familiar in a wildly unfamiliar world.

“Hey,” Diego greets, giving him an appraising look but not saying anything about the fact that Five’s wearing one of his sweaters.

Five nods a greeting before he busies himself pulling a mug from the cupboard and getting a cup of coffee. The pot’s still on and half-full, likely courtesy of Mom, so it’s a short lived distraction. He almost wishes he put something in his coffee so he has an excuse to linger without making it awkward.

“I heard you and Allison got into a fight last night,” Diego says, a hint of sardonics in his voice. “Well, pretty sure the whole block heard.”

Five grimaces behind the rim of his mug, throat too tight to take a sip. It seems he’s always fighting with someone.

“Nothing to say, huh?”

Five’s pretty sure he said enough last night, regardless of how little he even remembers. Might be time to lay off drinking, even as he already wishes for something to put in his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders, throat still tight and getting tighter. It’s almost hard to breathe and his head is pounding.

Diego sighs, sounding exhausted. “Look, I’ve been talking the othe–”

Five doesn’t hear the rest, pulling himself through a tear in space. He stumbles out the other side, managing to set the coffee on his desk before his knees buckle and he topples to the floor. He lays there for a while, wheezing softly and trying to catch his breath. There isn’t much going through his head, besides how grateful he is that he saved his coffee. There was no way in hell he was going down for another.

-

He helps Mom with chores in the evenings, usually after Luther’s gone to bed and the house is painfully silent. She hums while she works, washing the dishes and cleaning up after dinner. Five sits in with her, finishing up any leftover in the pots or pans. He follows her like a ghost back upstairs, and helps her fold laundry. The laundry room is usually pleasantly warm, and Five sometimes dozes off listening to Mom hum, sprawled out on a table.

When she’s finishes with all that, she heads into the library and settles down on a couch someone had moved there in the months following their return. This is a newer part of her routine, one that Five created with his presence and can’t make himself feel bad about. The blanket draped over the back is a deep verdant green and pleasantly soft texture.

Mom settles on one end, picking up a book from the table besides the couch. He’s not sure when she started reading, or if she always did that and he just didn’t remember. For some reason it makes her seem more human. Sometimes she reads heavy tomes of obscure information, sometimes it's children’s fantasy.

Five collapses onto the couch beside her, leaning his weight against her side and sighing in the deepest relief as she wraps her arm around his shoulders. He beyond caring at this point, and Mom’s not one to judge. He rests his body against her’s for a while, breathing with her simulated breath, forcing himself to relax and finding it hard.

He still can’t get himself to stop shaking, and now with an arm around him, his vulnerabilities and hurts come bubbling up like blood from a wound. He can’t pull it in, his hands shake horribly in his lap, and clasping them together just seems to make it look worse.

She never opened her book, and she senses his distress instantly, something he hates and can’t help but be grateful for. She doesn’t ask him what’s wrong, merely pushes the book away and turns toward him to give him her full attention.

It’s too much and he nearly begins to sob. 

She shushes him gently when he swallows it down, one of her hands tracing his cheek before pulling him to rest his face against her. He wraps his arms around her back, clinging to her like a child, like he never had before and feels so stupid to do now. He can’t stop himself, it all hurts so much and he just wants it all to end. This doesn’t make him feel better, but it makes him feel something else beside the horrifying nothing eating at his bones.

She runs a hand through his hair and down the nape of his neck. He feels her hand pause and come back to his kneck, searching for his pulse. He pulls away, both out of confusion, and to allow her more access. Her face is neutral, but she frowns minutely at him before tucking his head against her.

“You’re experiencing heart palpitations,” she says, not at all asking.

He was ignoring up until now, the way his chest was tight and his heart was doing uneven little leaps and lurches. It was hard to get a full breath in, constricting in his throat, too. He nodded against her, swallowing hard when the words refused to come.

“You’re temperature is a little elevated. How are you feeling darling?”

Horrible, he tried to say, but while his mouth worked around the word, his throat spasmed silently.

#yeah i absolutely am in a different tense by the end lmao #tua #tua fanfic #the umbrella academy #fanfiction #five hargreeves

[inhuman-obey-me]

In the ars goetia they are represented as kings, dukes, and so on.. but the demons like Mammon, Leviathan, they are not part of the ars goestia, so could we say there are different structures of hell?

Well, the Ars Goetia is only one part of the overall grimoire The Lesser Keys of Solomon -- and it is certainly not the only grimoire that exists historically! Other famous grimoires include the Dictionnaire Infernal and the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, though these also are far from the only ones. In fact, we have a book -- The Dictionary of Demons -- which sources and lists over 1,700 demons that have been mentioned in various grimoires and other occult texts over the ages. And here is what that book has to say on rankings:

In the vast majority of grimoires, demons are typically assigned a rank and royal title to indicate their position in the pecking order of Hell. In the Testament of Solomon, [...] demons sometimes present themselves as princes and kings - positions largely in keeping with the concept of royalty that existed at the time. Medieval works [...] expand the demonic hierarchy to include a variety of positions: princes and kings, dukes and earls, counts, presidents, and even knights - positions reflective of the feudal system at work throughout Europe during that time. The ranks attributed to the infernal legions may tell us more about the time period in which the various books of magick were penned than they do about the actual hierarchy of Hell.

It goes on to mention that seven ranks were eventually solidified within demonology, as seven was a number "of great significance in medieval and Renaissance Europe" due to the number of planets known at the time and the thought of seven spheres making up the heavens. The Lesser Key of Solomon was responsible for then assigning planets to each of the ranks, which in turn were linked to metals, and those metals were needed for the magical seals.

Basically, the ranks do sort of establish a sense of hierarchy in hell, but practically speaking, humans mainly need pay attention to those ranks more just for the magical practice of knowing how to deal with the demons correctly.

That said, we've talked about the Hierarchy of the Devildom in this post, which also lists the seven titles. It's also important to note that Mammon and Leviathan in particular are actually demons derived from other concepts/beings -- Mammon originally just meant money/riches, and Leviathan comes from a sea serpent referenced in the Bible, which actually has roots in Lotan. So Levi himself is actually Lotan, and he's just doing a really exaggerated roleplay when he says he's summoning Lotan. So in terms of different ranking structures then, the answer is sort of yes, sort of no. It's a mess of manmade governing systems as applied to theological creatures over time.

But in OM canon, we can very conveniently just throw most of this out because Diavolo is the one and only Future Ruler of the Devildom, the brothers and Barbatos are his immediate council, and everyone else serves as just general "nobles," such as the House of Lords. They probably have more in-depth hierarchies amongst themselves -- but for all we need to care about in the game, they're a big hassle of demons who give Diavolo (and the brothers) a hard time and should back the fuck off!! :)

#excuse our demonology word vomit lol #obey me #obey me! #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #omnb #demonology resources #obey me worldbuilding #not rly worldbuilding here but yknow #ask and ye shall be answered #ask and ye shall receive (essays)

[aspecriddler]

THEE Guide to Not Being a Punk Poser

Hey, so if you're reading this, you may or may not be looking to get into the punk scene, and you also may or may not be at a total loss on where to start

Well fear not! I am here with this little introduction post on how to Not Be A Poser (title pending)

FIRST UP: The Ideals

When it comes to the ideals of alternative subcultures, this graphic by @theygender (hope the tag is ok, lmk if it isn't) is the best summary I've ever seen

And if you're like me, you're solidly on the line between punk and grunge, but leaning just a bit more punk. This is fine /gen

Punk is about community. Punk is about fighting for a better future. Punk is about doing no harm and taking no shit. Punk is about looking out for the underdog. If you don't embody these values then you're not punk. The ideology of Punk is, in my opinion, the most important part of the subculture

But if you've been doing your research you already knew that. Now let's get into what a lot of people call the fun stuff: the music and the fashion

SECOND: The Music

There are a Lot of different subgenres of punk music, the most famous being punk rock and folk punk. I subscribe more to punk rock because I really enjoy fast music

Bands to look for include: Sex Pistols, Dead Kennedys, Pansy Division, Dog Park Dissidents, Cheap Perfume, Mommy Long Legs, Gang Green, The Germs, Rage Against the Machine, G.L.O.S.S., X-Ray Spex, The Cramps, Circle Jerks, Crass, Limp Wrist, and Pure Hell

Of course there's a lot more but those are some staples plus some of my personal favorites. You can find my personal punk playlist here

Overall the sound is Loud and it is Angry. There are many songs about killing cops and hating capitalism and it fucks. If you like funky basslines, sick ass drums, angry yelling, and shredding guitars this music is for you

PART THREE: The Fashion

Okay, okay, I had to save the quote unquote best for last. Imo the fashion of punk is the most diy out of almost any other subculture

Literally anything you can get your hands on can become fashion. Steal what you can, pick up shit off the side of the road, and if you can't/don't know how to do something get a friend in the scene to either teach you or commission them or something

Brands? The fuck is that, the only brands you need to know are Rit fabric dye, goodwill, etsy (sometimes), your local craft store, and a good spike maker (I don't deal with spikes currently so I have no good resources for them, so other punks feel free to chime in!)

Want cool metal shit? Take apart cans and turn them into spikes. Take a lighter apart and use those metal bits. Steal safety pins from walmart.

Want/need to sew something? Yarn and a tapestry needle if you can't get/don't want to use dental floss. When sewing patches do a straight stitch around followed by a hobo stitch around again and that shit will stay forever. Alternatively pin patches on with safety pins, this works pretty well in a pinch

Fabric paint is your best friend!!! Start with a white base layer and the colors will be much more vibrant. Don't think you have painting skills? Doesn't matter, you're punk and you have the audacity to wear whatever you make with pride

Invest in a leather jacket. I don't mean in terms of money, I got mine at goodwill for ten bucks. But it will change your life. I recommend getting two: one to keep plain and one to diy. Also flannels are good for diy and can also be made into vests for warm weather very easily.

Both of these flannels I decorated myself in a matter of hours. If I can do it, so can you

Also! When you cut the sleeves off of a flannel you can use the extra fabric to make diy pockets :3

PART FOUR: Community and Conclusion

So this is kind of my close out section lol

I'm not sure what kind of discord communities exist for true punk culture, so if anyone has one they wanna promote feel free

Do some research on local punk bands in your area, get your friends together and diy outfits for a concert, or just to wear. The world is your punk oyster, and as long as you or other people aren't getting hurt you can do whatever you want forever

Plz use this post to find other punks so we can start gaining more community (I'm totally not desperate lol)

#punk

[gettingfrilly]

Can't get you out of my Ed

Chapter one of... 39 chapters lmao. This fic will kill me and I'll be damned if I don't take some of you down with me. Read it here or on ao3. Super mega thanks to @fish-bowl-2 for betaing and also for giving feedback on my massive outline.

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“Ppbbbbbbththtbbbhththtthhhhh.”

“Dude.”

“Dude yourself.” Eddy mutters, not caring if Kevin objects to his bored mouth noises. What else is he supposed to do? It’s Wednesday, five pm, and raining. No one's been in the candy store for hours, and ain’t no one gonna show up before they close at six. So he stands here bored out of his skull, full weight propped against the counter with his face squished in his hands, elbows velcroed to the permanently sticky wooden surface. He keeps his eyes where they’ve been glued for the last hour, which is directly on the nostalgic kitsch wall clock with plastic lollipops for hands and pounded sheet metal with a scene from some 50’s style soda shop superimposed on it for a face. It goes well with the completely non-functional jukebox in the corner, the rows of dusty, empty, retro soda bottles lining the shelves on the wall opposite the front door, and the 40 year old ice cream machine behind the counter that’s been out of order since last summer. Eddy had felt giddy when Kevin first got him a job here his freshman year, tickled by his younger self’s hypothetical jealousy over how easily he could pocket a jawbreaker here and there. The garish clashing of the puke green tiles and pastel pink walls had filled him with bittersweet memories of childhood, familiar and welcoming for a first time job.

Now he just finds the whole store ugly. 

“You could, ya know. Work.” Kevin suggests. “Clean something. Stock something. Anything other than standing there with your thumb up your ass.”

“Oh? And you can’t?” He asks while side eyeing Kevin, who is also currently standing around with his thumb up his ass. More specifically, he’s leaning backwards against the displays behind the counter, wide shoulders slouched as his arms dangle at his sides. The clean hairline of his crew cut frames his wide, blocky face with sharp angles. He’s been made up of solid, sturdy shapes since he started playing for the varsity team in his junior year, and his workout regimen has further defined his muscles in the years since. Eddy wouldn’t exactly describe him as beefy, but his build is athletic for sure. He’s also classically handsome, Eddy begrudgingly admits to himself, though he’s not really his type. Too much of a normie for his tastes, with his basic sense of style and outfit compiled of store brand athletic wear. Guy shops at Old Navy for sure. Well, more like his mom shops for him there.

“I’m the boss. I’ve got underlings to do that kind of stuff for me.” An annoyingly smug smile graces his shovel shaped chin, and Eddy can’t help but grind his teeth.

“For your information, bossman, ” he hisses the title, “shelves: dusted. Floors: mopped. Inventory: stocked. Windows: windexed. Hell, I even ordered the lollipops by color out of fucking boredom. There is truly not a single thing left to do.”

Kevin hums and scratches his ten acre chin. “Oh. Well. Pbth.”

��My thoughts exactly.”

‘ Come now, with your cleaning skills, surely you left something amiss. Did you wipe down the floor trim? Deep clean the register? I see plenty of snack crumbs wedged between those sticky keys. And you didn’t even mention the employee bathroom, for heaven’s sake. ’

“Shut up.” He mumbles under his breath. “Huh?”

“Nothing. Hey, how’s Nazz doing?” Kevin’s and Nazz’s shaky relationship isn’t exactly his favorite can of worms to open, but he’s starting to get bored enough to peel his eyelids off of his face, so he better strike up some kind of conversation. 

“ Man- ” Yup, here we go, “I don’t get what’s up with her. Ever since she moved to Buffalo she’s been acting all different and weird. Dunno what happened to the Nazz we used to know.”

‘ She grew up. Which is something you may want to look into yourself, Kevin. 19 years old and no interest in pursuing a higher education or a greater calling like our dear Nazz has. Tut tut.’

“Yeah, it’s almost like she cares about shit now or something.”

“Exactly,” Kevin bemoans, completely missing Eddy’s sardonic tone. “I don’t get all the polisci stuff she talks about. I’m just not a political guy, ya know? Why can’t things just go back to being simple between us? College wrecks people, man.”

On one hand, even Eddy can tell Kevin’s being pig-headed about this. On the other hand, he can relate on a very painful, squishy, sore, and tender level.

‘Well you are quite pig-headed yourself.’

“She just outgrew this small town shit. We all should. I know I’m getting out of here as soon as I graduate.”

“Speak for yourself. I like it here.” Kevin mutters while crossing his arms petulantly.

“Of course you do, mister former high school quarterback nepo baby. You already got shit made here. Doesn’t your dad own the candy factory now?”

“Vice president. But yeah, he’ll own it soon. And he’s thinking of expanding. But what are you complaining about? Aren’t you all set up to inherit your old man’s dealership? That place makes decent dosh.”

“I’d rather eat nails.” The words come grinding out of his mouth as if it were already full of sharp, pointy metal.

“What? No way, man, you used to brag about that place all the time. Said it was your legacy and that you were gonna make it the hottest place in the county to get a used car.”

“Times change.” That’s the only explanation he’s willing to offer.

Kevin just shrugs, much to Eddy’s gratitude. That’s probably the best thing about being friends with Kevin; guy doesn’t ask questions. Makes him a solid person to vent to.

‘Especially if you’re allergic to discussing your feelings.’

With a long suffering groan, Eddy literally peels himself off of the old counter to do another useless perimeter search of the shop. He knows he still won’t find anything to do, but at least it’ll get his body moving. His sneakers squeak against the freshly mopped floors (so bored he even got out the mop, for chrissake…) as he eyes the displays, watching his reflection warp and transform from one glass container to the next, an endless hall of funhouse mirrors mocking him with his own boredom, irritation, and overall misery. His fault for scrubbing them all until they were spotless. The hole punched cardboard pallet that holds a variety of different brands of lollipops is just as hue spectrum oriented as he left it, so this time he goes for ordering them by size and shape instead. Well, that killed two minutes. Walk by the freezers, rearrange  some mismatched soda bottles he missed before. 30 seconds. Scrape a fleck of taffy off of one of the sliding door handles. 20 seconds. Stare at the wall for five seconds. Bang his head against it. Another second. Bang. Another second. Bang. Another second. Bang.

“I’m taking a smoke break!” He calls loudly over the shelves in the direction of the front counter, not waiting for Kevin to respond before frantically scrambling towards the backroom. He nearly trips over a broom as he bursts into the cramped space, swearing at it uselessly as he stumbles over to his locker. It gets jammed as usual, the damn thing, Eddy jiggling the handle with a growl before he finally tears it open. The hood of his windbreaker catches on one of the locker’s internal hooks, causing Eddy to shout obscenities until he finally shakes it loose and shoves his arms into the sleeves. He stomps towards the back door and bumps it open with his hip as he wrestles with the zipper, getting himself encased once he steps outside into the muggy July evening air.

The door slams shut behind him as he huddles under the small overhang of the dirty green awning adorned above the back door, fishing his pack of camel menthols out of the pocket of his windbreaker. The hush of rain against the pavement and rhythmic pounding of droplets plunking against the rusty metal of the awning harmonize well together, creating a nice soundscape to back up the click click click of his lighter. He mutters swears under his breath like a prayer, internally praising glory hallelujah once the cig balanced between his lips lights and he can breath in deep and slow, the mint flavoring tickling his nose hairs and soothing the burn of hot smoke in his windpipe. Smoke billows from his mouth and nose after he’s held in his lungful for as long as he can, his exhale audible and pointed heavenward, smoke catching and lingering on the underside of the sheet metal above. 

‘Those will kill you.’

“The sooner the better.” Eddy mumbles, letting gravity pull his loosening body down against the wooden door behind him, desperate for a paint job. He takes another grateful drag as he watches the rain bounce and slide off of trashbags, forming muddied puddles in the potholes below. The hit of nicotine puts a fuzzy blanket over the constantly firing nerve endings in his brain, making his eyes droop as he fights back a yawn. Double D doesn’t know what he’s talking about, calling nicotine a stimulant. Smokes practically put him to sleep. 

He sneers down at the ground. What’s he got to even do these days other than work, smoke, sleep, repeat? The only thing he has to look forward to are the occasional phone calls he makes to Ed at the military school his shithead mom shipped him off to last summer before they all started their junior year. Double D and Ed were inconsolable that day, clinging to each other and sobbing as Ed’s dad silently packed his red commodore with sparse necessities, the rest of Ed’s belongings in boxes marked for the salvation army. The memory still makes Eddy’s eyes burn, the same way they did that day as he blinked to hold back his tears, repeating to the other two that they’d call, they’d write, they’d visit, and once senior year was done in two years, the three of them would be out of here. Double D would definitely get accepted to some fancy shmancy school on a fancy shmancy scholarship, and the two of them would follow along, working whatever jobs available so that their combined income with Double D’s scholarship funds could net them a nice apartment in whatever fancy shmancy city Double D went to for school. They’d be free of this pimple on the map of America called Peach Creek, free from their families, free from public school, free to be themselves. There’d be a queer scene, he told Double D. They’d be accepted there, he told him. It wouldn’t be like it is out here in the boonies. They wouldn’t have to hide.

Well, his plan may have less people in it now, but he’s sticking to it. He can’t stand the boredom anymore, can’t stand the confinement. If he spends one more summer afternoon staring at his bedroom ceiling, has one more shift during the dead hours of the candy store, has to give his dad one more excuse as to why he’s not dating anyone now that he’s got a paycheck, he’s going to burst out of his own skin like some kind of insectoid, brain sucking monster from one of Ed’s B-rated black and white horror flicks and suck the noggins of everyone in a five mile radius. He’ll get out of this shithole come hell or high water. He has to get out.

‘And go where, exactly?’

‘Anywhere but here.’

‘To do what?’

‘Live. Breathe. Stretch out and run around and scream and cry and shout and kick and hit and go and go and go.’

‘With who?’

‘Ed. Or no one. Who cares.’

‘You’d be alone.’

‘I’ve always been alone.’

‘That’s not true. You know that’s not true.’

Water streams from the corners of the awning, creating a puddle dangerously close to his Air Force 1s. An errant raindrop lands right on top of the toe of his left sneaker, and he grumbles as he bends over to swipe it away, cursing himself for not looking at the weather report before putting these on. He curses louder when a chunk of ash falls from his cig and takes up residence where the water droplet just vacated, grabbing it from his mouth to hold it out to the side as he frantically brushes off his shoe.

‘Please, Eddy, be careful! Think of how much money your mother spent on such a frivolous purchase.’

Eddy snarls, sick to death of this incessant nagging. “Just shut uuUGHH!”

The smack of the wooden door against his ass throws him completely off balance, staring down at his shoes one second then catching himself on his hands and gazing at a puddle inches from his face the next. Adrenaline rushes through his body, making his lungs seize up and his eyes go wide, the rain falling on the back of his head feeling far colder than it should be on a warm July evening. He keeps himself propped up on one hand as he swivels around to identify his attacker, blinking owlishly when he sees Kevin standing in the lit doorway, giving Eddy the same, wide eyed look.

“Dude. You okay?”

Anger quickly intermingles with his gut-dropping fear, gritting his teeth as he pushes himself back onto his feet. “Watch where you’re going, shovel chin!”

Kevin places one hand on his hip while he holds the door open with the other, expression blasé. “Doors are for opening, man. Anyway, we’re closing up. Just wasting money at this point.”

He finally catches his breath, raising his cigarette to take another calming drag, only to feel something unpleasantly cold and soggy touching his lips. Damn it. His hand must have landed in a puddle. He groans and pushes his now wet hair out of his face.

“These ain’t fucking cheap.” He grumbles, flicking the unlit stub to the ground.

“Did you even hear me, man?”

“Huh? Oh.” Calmer and less distracted now, his brain finally catches up with what Kevin said. “Yeah, great idea, bossman!” The title is used in a much more jolly manner than before, giving Kevin a pat on the back and leaving a stubby, wet handprint behind as he pushes past him and back into the backroom to grab the rest of his stuff. He kicks off his nice sneakers to trade them for the ratty back ups he keeps in his locker, stepping into the worn pair as he puts his multi-colored Nikes into his water proof backpack for safe keeping.

Kevin sneers and murmurs something Eddy is sure was insulting as he looks behind himself and at the back of his shirt. “I’ve got to count money and lock up if you wanna stick around to help-”

Eddy’s locker slams abruptly, echoing loudly in the small space as he slings his drawstring bag over his shoulders and puts his hood up in quick, jerky motions. “Bye, seeya later, hasta la vista, sayonara, annyeong.” He half-jogs out of the back room before finishing his goodbyes, ignoring Kevin’s jeering as he slips through the door to the front room. He continues his half jog past the candy displays, snagging a jawbreaker and shoving it into his pocket next to his smokes before heading out the door and back out into the rain.

He breathes in a deep breath of freedom as he stretches his arms out to his sides and then over his head, making his way back to the cul de sac with a skip in his step. The world is his oyster now that he’s off of work. Now he can… he can… well.

The skip turns into a slow trudge as Eddy remembers he doesn’t actually have anything post work to look forward to, mood sinking further and further with each dark and empty store he passes by. Looks like Kevin wasn’t the only one who decided to close up early; all of downtown is dead. And it’s just not the cafe, the butcher shop, and the shoe store that are dark. It’s too early for the street lights to come on, but the sky is thick with heavy rain clouds, keeping the sunlight prisoner behind the bubbling veil of black and gray. His eyes turn down to the wet cement of the sidewalk with its divots and potholes, floating cigarette butts in the puddles that formed within them, scowling at his feet as they pointlessly move beneath him. What’s he even going home to? Another evening zoning out in front of the TV? Maybe lying upside down on his bed and listening to saccharine sweet slow dance songs? Then whatever he does will just be followed by chain smoking in the backyard until he’s tired enough to pass out as soon as his head hits the pillow, welcoming oblivion as an alternative to being left alone with his thoughts. It’s the same damn thing every day. And it’ll keep being the same damn thing every day until he gets out of here or dies. Dying may be the more convenient option at this point. It’d be a lot easier than having to finish high school before he beats it. All he has to do is wait for a car to come by and then jump out in front of it.

But no cars come. No one coming, no one leaving, a town stuck in stasis, the white noise enough to deafen him. His shoes are getting soaked. He’s gonna get cold feet.

Christ, he needs to quiet his fucking mind before he ends up as roadkill. He reaches into his pocket, fingertips brushing against the cool metal of his lighter before he finds his pack of camels, grasping onto it like a lifeline. He takes out the light with it, shaking a cig loose from the pack and into his waiting hand. He balances it between his pointer and middle finger, bringing it up to press it between his lips and under his hood so he can attempt to light it-

Only to immediately pull his hand away when he tastes blood on his tongue.

“The fuck?” He squeaks out, high pitched and startled. He looks at the cig and finds fresh red blood smeared on the paper and filter, but that’s not what’s most alarming; what has him wince and hiss under his breath is the sight of his hand, dark, slimy globules clotted together in the center with dried and flaky trails of blood running down between his fingers, some of it gathered under his nails, in his nail beds, and around the gold band on his ring finger. Rain splashes down into his open palm, the droplets saturating themselves with blood before they roll down the sides of Eddy’s hand and down his wrist, leaving trails of pink behind. He swipes his thumb gingerly over his palm and squints, scowl deepening when he discovers the cut beneath, small but deep. 

Damn it. Must have happened when he fell. Probably glass from a broken bottle. How did he not feel it? Stupid Kevin. Stupid door. He clicks his tongue and keeps walking, placing the cig back between his lips; he’s not gonna waste another one of these. It brings him minimal relief once it’s lit, his frayed nerves further agitated by the site, smell, and taste of his own blood. He’s had e-fucking-nough of that for one life time. Thankfully the shops start to become far and few between, with residential houses looming on the horizon. He’ll walk in through the back door to his room before his mom gets a chance to see his hand and starts freaking out. He’ll clean his hand, dry off his feet, and get out of this fucking rain. That’s something to sort of look forward to. Isn’t it?

When he turns the corner of rethink avenue several minutes later, all thoughts of the creature comforts of home disperse like a warren of rabbits intruded on by a fox. His cig, burned down to a stub at this point, dangles from his parted lips, eyes frozen on the looming portend of the past come to haunt him currently parked in his own fucking driveway. He’s freezing suddenly, all heat sapped out of him like someone pulled the plug, lungs becoming a vacuum as cosmic background radiation burns within them, singed by his only source of heat. It’s like he’s falling again, shoved from behind and just barely managing to protect his face from scraping the pavement. An unknown attacker from behind, the familiar sound of him breathing through his teeth.

He tastes blood on his tongue.

The cigarette butt falls from his lips as he turns away from the sight of the whale shaped trailer in front of his house, breaking out into a jog to the only other house he can think to go to, nestled right on the corner he just turned. His bedroom lights are on. His parents, as usual, aren’t home. He misses him with an ache deeper than anything else he’s felt in a long time.

He hopes Double D actually lets him in.

#eene #ed edd n eddy #eddeddy #gettingfrillywrites #chap 1