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charliemwrites · 3 months

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…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?

Content: Unhappy Relationship, (Brief) Gaslighting, Sad Reader

Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.

Maybe you watched too many movies.

Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.

Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.

In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.

Things like,

Still young, I want to explore…

How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?

Last bit of freedom before being tied down…

If you love me and our relationship…

You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.

An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.

You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.

You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.

Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.

It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.

Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.

The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.

“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”

You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.

The perfect place to be out but alone.

You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.

“Love that one.”

You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.

“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”

You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”

He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”

He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…

“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.

He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”

Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.

You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.

You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.

You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.

He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.

Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.

“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”

You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.

“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.

Kyle frowns. “What about you?”

You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.

“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”

Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.

“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”

You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.

“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”

His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #poly 141 #open relationship trope #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader

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roseychains · 2 months

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jjk men sorted into whether their doms or subs in bed?

Dom or sub? ~

A/n: there all switches okay so I can write anyone for anything BUT if I had to pick one this is how I’d sort em ;) oh and I’ll write for demon slayer now!

C/w: written by a minor!

Choso is a sub. He’s so pathetic. Firstly, he’s so inexperienced he literally couldn’t be on top if he tried. He doesn’t know anything about sex so he needs you to guide him through it. Not to mention, he’s also often scared of accidentally hurting you if he were to try to dom you in any sort of way. The human body is fragile, not at all like his body. He also just has such a soft and sweet nature to him, he doesn’t want to feel like he’s controlling you. Rather, he loves it when you take the lead, tell him exactly what to do, or use him for your own pleasure. It’s what works best for him. He’s so whiny too, sounds like a slut in bed.

You had him laid down on your shared bed, riding him while your hands rest on his neck for support, occasionally applying pressure.“H-hngh!~ don’t stop ahh!~” he whines, and you bounce up and down on him, sliding his member in and out of your cunt, taking him in fully then lifting up. “Yea? You like it when I use you?” teased, but with you riding on his sensitive cock, overstimulating him with penetration alone he can’t muster a response. Only letting out little pleas and cry’s, pathetic moans.

Gojo is a switch. Let me be clear, gojo loves the thrill of sex, and also loves to make his partner feel good. On one hand, he loves teasing you, making you cry on his cock. He’s so mean, giving you small touches until your begging him. He likes to get you worked up then overstimulate you. But on the other, he loves it when you use him for your own pleasure, when you either milk his cock for all he’s worth, when you edge him, or when you get the strap on and pound his ass. He’s down for anything, really, which makes him the most switchy switch out there. He would definitely switch roles in the same fuck session too.

You’d have his hands tied up to the head board, a gag stuffed in his mouth as you palmed and teased his cock, spitting on it and giving it a few rough strokes, bringing him close to that edge just to deny him again for what seemed like hours. His drool was running down his chin and tears wheedled up in the corners of his eyes, begging you to let him cum. You were so focused on his cock, you didn’t realize he had torn the rope binding his hands and tossed the gag across the room. He was quick to sit up and flip you over, aligning his cock with your hole. “Did you have fun teasing me baby? Let’s see how you like it.”

Nanami is a switch. Normally he is a dom because he loves giving. He likes bringing you too your high, without you having to lift a finger. Along side the occasional rough fuck you get when you act like a brat or when he’s releasing his stress on your poor cunt. However, sometimes he’s just really exhausted and wants to lay back, and let you use him to get off. He also hates to admit it but he secretly loves it when you are a little mean and rough. He’s so used to being the scary one, with how he’d built, so it’s a nice change of pace for him.

“Agh!~ kento so deep!” He was fucking into you in a matting press, bringing his hand down to press on the spot where his cock made your stomach bulge. “You feel that baby? I feel it too. Your doing so well for me.” He says the gentlest words while his pace is anything but gentle, manhandling your body and thrusting slow and deep, making you feel and take. Every inch. It didn’t take much longer till he came inside you, pumping you full of his cum. He pulled out and laid back, but you weren’t done yet. You crawled on top of him, and slowly slid down on him. “Gonna use me princess? G-go ahead. O-oh!~” you started bouncing up and down on him quickly, running your hands down to hold onto his shoulders. “You can keep goin right? Just lay back and let me take it from here.”

Sukuna is a dom. He’s the king of curses and full of pride and arrogance, of course he needs his power and dominant presence to follow him everywhere including the bedroom. The idea of being submissive to anyone, especially the one who’s role is to be submissive to HIM is utterly humiliating. If you ever suggest the idea he would absolutely punish you for it. It’s much more natural for him to take control, and have power over his partner in bed, have them bend and fold for him and him alone.

On all fours and a tight grip on your neck, he was using as leverage to pound into you with a ruthless pace. His words were mean, “take it, fucking take it. Yes just like that,” and his hands were mean, one choking you and pulling your back on his cock with the other gripping your waist and occasionally slapping your ass hard enough to leave red marks. But nothing was as mean as his pace, fucking into your body using you for his own pleasure, tip kissing your cervix threatening to spill his cum inside you.

Geto is a dom. Similar to Nanami, he loved to give, and equal amount of soft and rough treatment. Unlike Nanami, however, he is NEVER too tired to take control. He needs control in every aspect of his life, it helps him get is way so naturally he enjoys calling the shots in bed. Further, he is very much into bdsm and power play, so being in a dominant role absolutely gets him going. If you ever suggest to be on top, he won’t be mad or anything he will just decline with a condescending smile on his face. You and him both know you couldn’t even if you tried.

Your body was tied up in full shibari, red ropes suspending you from strong hocks on the ceiling, your legs forced open and at his mercy. He took his time just marveling at his work, admiring the knots and loops he crafted around your body, and finally taking a few careful steps forward and caressing your thigh, inching closer and closer to where you needed him the most. “Quit teasing! Touch me already!” His hand stopped in his tracks and he gripped your thigh with a stern, rough hand. “Watch that mouth. Be patient and you’ll get what you want. Keep up the attitude and I’ll gag your slutty mouth.”

Toji is a dom. He’s just, so big. It’s nearly physical impossible for you to exert any amount of control over him. He’s so muscular and tall, even if your bulky your just not as bulky as him. Further, his heavenly restriction makes controlling him even more impossible, as he has god like physical prowess. You are just a girl, of course you can’t even dream of trying to take the lead. It’s okay though he thinks it’s cute. If you ever floated the idea, he would be like. “Yea, okay. Let’s see you try.” You did not try.

He held you up, and was fucking you against the wall of the shower, not water dripping down your bodies. “Pussy’s gripping me so fuckin tight, you holding up okay princess.” With the way his cock is drilling to you, you can hardly make out any verbal response, nails dragging along his back, cracked moans slipping out your lips. “Hmmm? What’s that? Can’t hear ya sweets. Use your big girl words.” He teased, splitting you open with his massive cock, your smaller frame hardly taking in his girth and length.

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spacebarbarianweird · 4 months

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I've found a few fics that hc that Astarion purrs when he's happy (Catstarion supremacy lol). Do you think he might if he felt safe enough with Tav?

I am 100% on board with that! I know that bats purr a little bit different from cats but it's not like bats=vampires.

Masterlist

Headcanons

Purring Astarion

Vampires can purr.

They purr when they are safe, happy, and content.

Like cats.

But have you ever seen a happy vampire?

Never. It's as rare as a vampire who can walk in the sunlight.

They suffer. They starve. They hate themselves.

They are tortured. Beaten. Hunted.

They are never safe enough to do so.

Astarion's life used to be hell. There wasn't a single good thing in his pathetic existence.

But he is free now. Cared. Loved.

He can do whatever he wants.

And he isn't alone. He has a person to hold, to talk to, and to share his feelings with.

Who can sit for hours playing with his curls while he trauma-dumps them about the most horrible events of his life.

Astarion learns about new ways of intimacy - bathing together, holding hands, cuddling.

One day, he wakes up after an especially bad nightmare. He doesn't remember what exactly he saw, but it was so unsettling he scratches his skin with his sharp nails.

When you return and see Astarion like that, you place him above you like a weighted blanket.

Pressing his head against your chest and stroking his back.

Your heartbeat and breathing soothe him, and he stops crying.

You lie like that for what seems like an eternity in silence.

He is happy.

At this moment, he realizes that the last six months have become a counterweight to two hundred years of misery.

Astarion relaxes and feels like falling asleep.

You hear a weird sound, as if there was a big cat beside you.

Purring.

You hug Astarion tighter and realize the purring comes from his chest and throat.

He probably isn't even aware of it.

The sound is nice and pleasant, but the very idea is hilarious, and you burst out laughing.

"What - What is this?" Astarion elbows up, staring at you. "Did I do something wrong?"

There is a weird sensation in his throat, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"You were purring! Like a cat!"

Astarion is shocked.

It's not like he is fond of the idea that his body reacts so openly to feeling good.

(As if having an erection any time you do something playful wasn't enough to embarrass him).

But all his doubts fade into the background as he realizes how much you like it.

It's like having a big cat in your bed who doesn't try to run away if you squeeze it too hard.

And it's a good indication if Astarion really feels good or just pretends.

Sometimes, you think he feels off, only to hear soft purring from his chest.

Sometimes everything is great, but you don't hear this pleasant vibration.

And you also soon realize that if you make Astarion sit between your thighs, his back pressed against your chest, and start playing with his ears and curls, he immediately starts purring.

Safe, loved, protected. Like a happy cat.

Bonus:

You and Astarion have a dhampir-daughter

You two wonder how many vampiric traits your daughter has inherited.

Will she be able to walk on ceilings? Will she have fast regeneration?

You will find it later, but now you have a newborn girl, who isn't really fond of the idea of being pushed into this unpredictable world.

Once you finish the first breastfeeding session, the girl closes her dark eyes…

And start purring like a tiny kitten.

Tag list @tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire @marcynomercy

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eydi-andrius · 3 months

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Sore Loser (Love and Deepspace Characters x F!Reader)

Synopsis: After a very shitty day, you thought playing Kitty Cards with him will make your day better.

A/N: Girl, I hate this damn game. Lmaoooooo!

🗡️ Xavier 🗡️

Xavier didn't mean anything from it. He was just playing by the rules of the game, using his advance cards to parry and block your attempt to stop him from freezing your turn, four times by now. He was so focused on the game that he did not notice how your face became harder, and your eyes stared coldly at the board, now filled mostly with Xavier’s number cards. His kitties were cheering for him, and you watched helplessly as your kitties cried from defeat.

“That was a good game.” Xavier smiled to himself, as he saw how the game ended beautifully for him. He saved up as many good advance cards and used them at the right moment. He was so proud of himself and he can't wait to see your face. You usually analyze how he won, and take notes of what you did wrong. However, when he looked up, his joyous face turned down, and his heartbeat quickened when he saw how cold and mad you were. Your anger wasn't directed at him, instead, you were staring at the board coldly. But he knew at that time, he fucked up.

“I’m tired of this stupid game.” The chair scraped the floor, as you stood up so fast and grabbed your coat, placed atop the top rail.

“Hey wait!” He tried to stop you from walking out but he accidentally bumped into the board, almost toppling the cups and kitties over. In panic, he tried to support the wobbling table, and sighed with relief when it stopped shaking. He tried to find you afterwards, but he lost sight of you.

It has been two days, and as his partner hunter, it shouldn't be impossible for you to meet, but you must have been so mad because whenever he asks of you, you decline his calls and only reply in messages as promptly and professionally as an HR. He tried looking for you on your table, but most of the time, you were out or doing something else, whenever he came over. He was about to give up apologizing and accept his fate that he pissed you off at a game, so bad, you decided to cut him off, when Jenna ordered all the alpha team to meet at the unicorns headquarters for a debrief.

And he was right, you were there, but you were sitting in between two hunters he knew nothing about. He wasn't listening at all, he can always check on the information later, but he was afraid that if you manage to sneak out again this time, your relationship will fall apart and he doesn't like the sound of it, even when it wasn't going to happen because he will make sure of it.

“Let’s talk.” Before you can even stand up from where you were sitting, Xavier immediately moves over in front of you, calling your attention in front of the other hunters, making you unable to turn him down.

“Sorry. I should have known you were playing to enjoy that day. I didn't mean to make you mad. I will make sure to be more sensitive in the future about your needs. I know I can be slow at times, sometimes emotionless, but I don't want to repeat the same mistake and lose your company over a silly game.” Xavier started right after the door closed, leaving the two of you alone together. He looks tired. There were visible dark bags right under his eyes. He must have been torturing himself after you gave him the cold shoulder.

You feel silly now. You were not mad at Xavier for winning. It was just a shitty day and you were just looking forward to having a good day and resting with Xavier at your side, when it seems like even the Kitty Cards were against you. Xavier keeps on getting good cards, and you keep getting the most useless advance and number cards. You sighed and closed your eyes. You shouldn't have run away from him. Now, you made it worse and made him feel like he should tiptoe around your mood, instead of enjoying each other's company in your free time.

“Please, don't. It wasn't like that. I was just annoyed about my day at that time and losing was the final straw for me. I’m sorry that I made you feel like that for days. But I wasn't sure how to confront you, especially when I was just acting like a sore loser. Have you not been sleeping well? You have a bag under your eyes.” Worried, you cupped his cheek and moved his face closer to yours, inspecting and noticing how his face looks paler, dry, and tired.

Instead of saying anything, he hums at your touch, and he moves forward, resting his head on your lap.

“Let me take a little sleep. I miss you.” He said before dozing off, and you stroked his hair while he slept.

❄️ Zayne ❄️

Zayne is bad at playing the Kitty Cards game. Due to his fatigue, sometimes he mistook some colors as the same, making his turn score nothing. But today was a bit different. Zayne keeps on winning, and he keeps on using advanced cards that will be fatal on your turn. He steals your advance cards, takes away your good number cards, and freezes your turn. Meanwhile, you keep on getting advanced cards that mean nothing when you have no good cards at hand.

“I win again, huh.” It was obvious that Zayne didn't mean anything from that, other than him wondering why he won again. But maybe you're already at your limit and hearing that made you snap.

“Well good for you. I’m going home.” It was all you have told him before you left him dumbfounded on his seat, leaving him alone at the cafe.

Whatever you did back there was just embarrassing. It was just a game but you took it personally. You're not going to wonder if Zayne refuses to talk to you now, other than being your physician, after that embarrassing display of attitude when you lose. You're not even sure how you're going to talk to him today.

It's your physical exam and it's been two days since you always kept him on read or only replies with emoji. You have to toughen up and apologize. Zayne did not deserve being treated that way.

Upon opening the door to his office, you breathed in, swallowing all the courage you needed. You walked towards the chair and sat in front of him. He was busy typing whatever on his computer, but you know, he already glimpsed on your way, because you felt his heavy stare for a second, before it went back to his task at hand. It didn't take long when he finished and stared you down. It was so awkward and it was at this moment, where you wished to be swallowed down by the earth and be gone. You gulped and opened your mouth to apologize when he started talking first.

“You didn't tell me you were injured that day.” You shivered at the icy tone in his voice. Just like his evol, Zayne can also be cold and scary. He didn't even need for you to emphasize on what he just said, because you already knew what he was talking about. A wanderer caught you off guard hours before meeting Zayne and it scratched your arm. The wound is not that deep, and you already put first aid on it so you never thought about it much, until the small wound did not heal as fast, and almost gave you a fever when it deepens. You realize now that it was the guilt of keeping you're injured to Zayne, and also, being a sore loser from the pain.

“It was very small. I don't want to bother you on your day off so….I kept it.” You squeak, when he glared at you, for being nonchalant about it.

“I don't care if it was my day off. It was my duty to take care of you. I hate it when you lie to me about being fine, when you know too well I can help you.” He continued scolding you, as he inspected the scarring wound, and offensively stared at it.

“I’m really sorry.” Was your only answer, to both, hiding your wound from him and to him receiving the burnt of your pain.

“Also, you can always ask me to switch our cards. I don't mind.” Zayne added as he patched you up.

🧜🏻‍♂️ Rafayel 🧜🏻‍♂️

Rafayel is the ultimate king of petty.

You already know that right from the start but nothing prepares you for the way he massacres you from the game Kitty Cards.

During at the last hurrah of your showdown, Rafayel finally revealed his advance cards, he uses freeze to stop you from playing, uses advance cards that will turn your cup scores into one, kicking out your highest score kitties from the colored cups, and replacing it with his, stealing your deny cards, and using it against you. It was so bad, that on the inside, you felt your blood boil on how cruel it was. If he did it the first time, you would be proud of him, but he’s been winning all the rounds, and every time, it ends up with him brutally winning. His wins hit a nerve and you finally snapped.

“Ha! Please don't cry. Losing isn't that bad.” He said proudly, as Rafayel nodded to himself. He loves teasing you and he enjoys your banter together. He knows at this point, teasing each other is a form of bonding.

He was celebrating his win when he noticed how quiet you were. When he opened his eyes, the smug look on his face dropped and he stopped in his tracks. The look on your face was devastating and he never saw that before. Your scrunched up face, eyes filled with upcoming tears. When both of your eyes met, there seemed like a switch in you, that made you burst into tears. Rafayel, who doesn't know how to handle your outburst, tries his best to console you. But he did not expect that you were still mad at him, so when he tried to hug you, you pushed him away and ran.

Since then, you have refused to reply to his texts. You even muted his calls so you won't have to answer it. Whatever you did that day was so embarrassing that you’d rather sever whatever relationship you have with Rafayel instead of relieving how sore loser you were. It was just a game, and you cried like a baby from it. There were times that you're trying to justify your tears by saying maybe Rafayel’s insults were too much that day, and it was the reason why you burst into tears, but there would be nothing so petty as pushing someone away and running due to losing from a board game.

Sighing, you just accepted that Rafayel will probably stop talking to you. It is what it is as you continue to go on with your day, when your phone blares and a notification about Rafayel being in danger popped up in bold letters. You did not hesitate as you rode your bike and flew to Rafayel’s whereabouts.

You burst through his studio door, and your eyes caught his figure slumped on the floor, leaning to his couch.

“What happened? Are you okay? Did you slip on your paint brushes again?” You asked worriedly, as you touched his shoulder, arms and legs, to see if he injured himself again. You were so worried and kept asking many questions that were meant silently, you were about to unleash the hulk at him for not answering, when you stopped on your tracks when you noticed the frown on his forehead and his glare.

“Really? Do I have to injure myself so you can notice me?” He bit down and you whimpered, not from his anger but from guilt.

“Sorry.” You apologized. You look down and twiddle your thumbs, not knowing how to dissipate the awkwardness of the situation and Rafayel’s glare.

It took a moment before you hear Rafayel’s sigh in defeat and open his mouth to talk again.

“You could have just asked me, and I will allow you to cheat by putting my kitties in different cups, or even by replacing my advance cards. All you have to do is say please.” He continued, exasperated.

All you can do is look down in shame and murmur an apology for acting so childish.

“Just….. don’t ignore me again like that, please. It doesn't feel good when the most important person in your life suddenly stops talking to you.” He added, his voice quivered a bit and you wince when you realize how your action affected him. Opening up his old wounds.

“I’m really sorry, Rafayel. I promise to be better next time.” A silence falls between you again. It took a moment before you realize despite how mad he was, he refuses to move his left hand. The air of guilt slowly turned into worry again.

“Did you injure your left hand?” You asked worriedly and slowly touched his left hand when he flinched and gritted his teeth from the pain.

“Probably sprain it when I fell.”

“You fell!?”

“It's fine, Ms. Bodyguard. I bet it will heal tomorrow. Just feed me for now.” He chuckled at your worried face and you watched him move his left hand with no worry, following your reaction from it. You just shake your head at how silly that was, and was so happy he was okay, before you stood up, helped him up, and treated him like a prince just for today.

#eydi andrius #fic title: sore loser #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader

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gtgbabie0 · 11 months

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Candlelit kisses

{When your apartment complex loses power you and Spencer have a sleepover leading you to both share your first kiss}

It’s a long one. Hope you enjoy lovelies!! 💕

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The last thing you were expecting today was a power cut this late into the night, and perhaps that’s why you let out a little yelp with a jump when Spencer knocks at your door causing you to almost drop the small tealight that you were lighting.

“Hey, is your power out too?” You ask, and he nods with a slightly frustrated sigh, his eyebrows knit together as he tries not to drop the papers and books he’s holding against his chest.

You and Spencer have been neighbours for a while now and somewhere along the line, you two got closer. He would come over almost every Friday, sometimes he even stayed over, well more like he would accidentally fall asleep and you never had the heart to wake him up.

“I can’t work like this” he complains walking into your apartment as he drops his work onto your kitchen table. You can practically feel the stress radiating from him as he rolls his shoulders, it was strange seeing him so tensed up.

You walk over to him with a flashlight, “Well hello to you too Spencer, oh yeah no, my day has been good” you sarcastically ramble, and he lets out a dry chuckle looking over at you as you sit down next to him.

“Sorry, I just— it’s a big inconvenience” he sighs once again as he rakes his fingers through his hair. Your hand rests on his shoulder as you give him a gentle look, soothing his arm.

You flick the flashlight on illuminating the table, “Yeah you’re telling me— but hey, I could be your very own personal lamp” you say trying to lighten up the mood, but your attempts are fruitless, and you frown when he shakes his head with a heavy sigh.

In all honesty, Spencer doesn’t want to do any work tonight. He wants to play silly board games with you, only to catch you cheating horribly and watch as you try and defend yourself through a fit of giggles. He wants, more than anything, to just hold you and go to sleep.

“Sorry, I just barged in here complaining- I’ll- I'll leave” he panics slightly. Your relationship is still new, everything felt so thrilling and Spencer is terrified of messing up somehow because he's so insanely in love with you. He doesn’t want to lose this feeling or you, ever.

“Spencer what?— don’t be silly, I don’t mind you staying here you know that” You try to stop him from gathering up his stuff but he’s stubborn as he makes his way towards your door, completely ignoring you.

He stops when you tug on his elbow, “Don’t leave, please” you mumble deciding to swallow your pride, “It’s really dark in here and I don’t want to be alone” you whisper, feeling a little childish but it was true nonetheless.

Your apartment was completely engulfed in darkness, the only thing lighting it was the small tealights that you scattered around, and the cool light of the moon, that splayed across the room. But yet even that made it seem scarier, something out of a horror movie.

Spencer thinks he might melt by how sweet you sound, you wanted him to stay and the thought of you needing him makes him feel all floaty inside.

“Okay, yeah I’ll stay,” he says, smiling softly as he watches your face light up with excitement. He wasn’t too much of a fan of the dark either, the mystery of what might linger within the shadows always seemed much too daunting. Something he couldn’t shake even as he got older.

You clasp your hands together with a smile, “Oh!- I have something actually” his eyebrows furrow with slight confusion as he watches you disappear into your bedroom, but not before your turn around, “I’ll be one second” you inform him, he responds with a quiet, ‘okay?’ Still confused by what’s going on in that wonderful mind of yours.

He sets his work back down on your kitchen table, deciding that it’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. You soon return with a globe-shaped night light in hand, “Spencer Reid, be prepared to be amazed” you smile, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited watching you click the batteries into the light.

You set it down on the coffee table before pressing the small button, a hopeful gleam in your eyes, silently praying that it will still work. And it does, the light shines in different colours projecting stars and moons onto the walls and ceiling. Spencer looks around the room, turning around as he does, admiring the way the room is suddenly lit up with warm colours.

“There was a study that found red to be the best colour to fall asleep to as it increases the production of melatonin,” he says, eyes still focused on the stars and moons that litter across the room in an orangey hue. He looks over to you and he goes to ramble off about night lights and their pros and cons but he finds himself completely taken back.

Spencer can practically feel the words leave his mind, and all his thoughts are replaced with you, how pretty you look underneath the warm light. He notices how your soft skin glows and the way your eyes seem to glisten, he doesn’t think there’s anyone in the world who compares to your beauty, in fact, he knows there isn’t. You’re so radiant, and he hopes that the smile your wearing is because of him.

You go bashful once you realise what’s happening, he’s looking at you as if you were a piece of art, sculpted by the gods. And he has those love-filled eyes, the same look he had when he finally asked you out on a date.

“You- you’re beautiful,” he tells you as if it was an undeniable fact, his voice so quiet that you almost miss it. Your smile breaks wider with his gentle words.

You can’t help but giggle, you felt so giddy inside. A feeling you haven’t felt in such a long time and it warms you. “Thank you Spence” you smile.

He feels almost prideful at your reaction, a feeling that settles in his chest blooming through to his heart and it takes his breath away, although you always have that effect on him no matter what you do.

There’s a beat of silence. “So, what about a game of Uno?” You suggest sitting down on the carpet as you reach for the box, patting the floor as an invitation for him to sit, “Loser pays for dinner” You wiggle your eyebrows and he chuckles joining you on the floor.

There is no winning when it comes to Spencer and board games, especially when it’s Uno. In all honesty, you regret going through the rules so intently with him. It’s impossible to win for a multitude of reasons. One because he’s so incredibly smart, and two because he’s a profiler, he can tell when you’re bluffing from a mile away.

So you’ve resorted to hiding cards underneath your thigh, and it worked for a solid minute, then he gives you a look as if to say ‘I know what you’re doing’ and the chuckle that unceremoniously leaves you doesn’t exactly help defend you.

“You’re totally cheating!” He claims, noticing how you’re three cards less than before. You gasp, a hand against your chest as you look at him with shock.

“Cheating? I wouldn’t” you exaggerate your offence, leaning forward to try and take a peak at his remaining cards, but he’s fast to hold them against his chest.

You take the cards from his hands, dodging his hands as he tries to grab them from you. “I would’ve won anyway, and you know it, that’s why hid those cards under your thigh- you know you probably would’ve won if you played your cards correctly, but you’re-” he blabs on, not even noticing how close you are to him. It’s not until your lips are against his that he completely falls silent, taken back by the sudden closeness.

You shock yourself a little too, it was almost as if you had no control it just happened. You push away from him, consumed by a sudden surge of panic.

“I’m so sorry Spencer- I” he grabs your hands before you lose yourself to your own worry, and beneath the dim lights you can see the slightest red dust against his cheeks.

“No!- it’s okay, I- I erm, I liked it actually” he tells you with an almost hopeful smile that you’ll do it again.

You smile back at him and this time you decide to simply ask, “Can I kiss you again? Properly this time” You study his face for any signs of discomfort, and there is none. He nods whispering a bashful, ‘Of course, you can'

And without missing a beat his hands rest on either side of your face and he meets you halfway, his supple lips against yours, a movement that seems to come so naturally to the pair of you. It’s sweet and gentle, and there’s the slightest taste of peppermint and something else, him.

Spencer thinks his heart might just jump out of his chest it’s beating so hard and he swears you hear it too or worse his thoughts. He can’t believe that this is happening, with you.

You tilt your head to urge him closer, your tongue against his and he loses himself. His hold changes as if he’s scared to let you go, that you might not be real, that all of this is just pretend. He kisses you with urgency as if you might just disappear.

You pull back to rest your forehead against his, “Spencer, I’m not going anywhere- you can slow down” you tell him, your tone so gentle as you take his hands guiding them away from your face to rest on your lap.

He nods against you, “I'm sorry- it just, feels too good to be true I guess” he admits, noticing the way you squeeze his hand, your thumb grazing against the curves of his knuckles.

“You don’t have to apologise- just know I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying right here with you” you whisper, brushing his hair behind his ear as you press a kiss to the tip of his nose, then another to his cheek then to the corner of his mouth and so on.

You pepper kisses against his face until he’s laughing, trying to push you away and the sound makes your heart clench with love, it’s something you’ll never grow tired of hearing.

“You're still paying for dinner by the way,” he says lips grazing against yours. And just when you’re about to kiss him, in an attempt to persuade him otherwise, the lights turn on and it’s then you can really see him, in much better lighting. Rosy cheeks and glossy love-sick eyes, and you think you fall for him ten times harder.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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intimidating-fettuccine · 6 months

Text

Random quirks/habits some creeps have

I might make a part two of this in the future

Toby squeezes things in his sleep. If he's sleeping with you, he likes to gently wrap himself around you or lay a hand on you and gently squeeze you. If he's sleeping alone, he wraps himself up in his blankets and constantly squeezes them overnight. He doesn't know he does this, it's just something that relaxes him and comforts him while he's sleeping.

Jeff bounces his leg obsessively. It does not matter where he is sitting or what he is doing, he is going to be bouncing his leg. If enough people voice complaints he will stop for that session, but the next time he sits down somewhere else, he will start again. If you want him to discreetly stop you, or someone like Liu or BEN have to sit next to him and put your hand firmly on his leg to get him to realize he's doing it. Also taps his foot if he's standing.

Slender reorganizes things on a very regular basis. When he can't think and he's feeling stressed, he destresses himself by reorganizing all of his stuff. It could be his office, it could be his bedroom, his closet, or the entire downstairs of the mansion, but he will be moving things around until his mind is settled and he can finally breathe and think again. Literally, NOTHING can stop him when he gets like this. Unless Toby breaks his legs falling out of a tree again, that stops him, but nothing else.

��I think I might have mentioned this in response to a question once before, but I am bringing it back. EJ needs a type of scratching post. Since my EJ is a feline demon he has sharp claws and instinctually likes to scratch things, and so he essentially has what equates to demonic scratch boards that he can dig his claws into whenever he gets angry and wants to scratch something. Sometimes he growls when he uses them, sometimes he purrs, but regardless, it relaxes and soothes him to use them. Some he keeps around the mansion, some are high up on his bedroom walls, and some are hanging high up around the mansion. He likes standing and stretching high up the most to use them. You are the only person allowed to watch him use them.

LJ juggles when he gets nervous. He doesn't know why or how it started, but when he gets extremely anxious for long periods of time, he juggles to destress himself. Sometimes it's standard juggling props like bowling pins, but sometimes he will just juggle random objects so long as he can have at least three of them. The more objects he's juggling at a time, the more anxious he is. His current record for anxiety juggling is 14 balls.

BEN, when feeling anxious or dissociative or selectively mute, communicates through electronics. He will speak through his phone, or the microwave, or the TV, or a computer, or the old rotary phone Slender has hanging from the downstairs kitchen wall. Any electronic near him, he'll produce a voice through to communicate. The voice sounds mostly like him, but it's much more robotic and detached, much like how he's feeling. If he's feeling too anxious or mute to do that, he'll produce text bubbles above him displaying what he would want to say, just like how I've headcanoned he can make emojis appear around him.

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dark-night-hero · 1 year

Text

Imagine when Itoshi Sae realizes things a little far too late.

Imagine Itoshi Sae wondering when it all started? Messages rarely received, calls barely make it through the night, the way you look so distracted when the two of you were in a video call, the fewer parcels he received. The way you look distracted and sometimes even out of it when he was in a phone call with you talking about whatever stuff he rant about.

"I'm sorry Sae, can we call things off tonight? I'm pretty tired from work." You spoke with an apologetic gaze over the scene. "Huh? Oh, yeah sure." "Thank you, then I'm hanging up then, Sae." The call ended just like that.

Imagine the way he starts wondering, when did it start? The lesser time the two of you had for each other. When the two of you started your relationship, both of you almost could not live without a single text or phone call per hour. It's been three days since he last saw your face over the phone, nine hours since you might have accidentally put him on ready. Were you that busy?

9:46 p.m

Sae: You good in there?

Sae: You left me on read, so I'm just checking up on you. Did something happen?

11:42 p.m

You: Sorry, something came up and I have to work overtime at the company.

You: It's lunchtime out there, right? Make sure to eat properly, I'm going to sleep now.

Imagine him wondering when you started looking like that? When did you start looking so dull even when talking about all your favorite, the things and stuff you love, you both love. And when was even the last time you've watched him play?

"I'm sorry, Sae, what were you talking about again? I didn't quite hear it." For the first time in this fifteen minutes video call, you finally spoke first words after telling him talk, well more like spoke things you can't seem to understand nowadays. Not that you really can not, but nowadays, it seems like... It feels strange.

"I was talking about our next game next week in there, at 27th, I was wondering if you could make it-?" It sounded desperate, as if he was looking forward for you to come. Maybe he was. He have not seen you in person for a while now. "27th? Oh God Sae, I have an important board meeting that day, I'm sorry I wouldn't able to come..." Strange enough, it scares him how despite your voice sounds genuinely disappointed of the unexpected circumstances were, you look rather unbothered.

Imagine as he was looking forward to seeing you again once he got back into his home country. There, you were usually greeting him with a smile on your face. But now, it wonders him when did you started looking at him with such dull eyes and a rather forced smile on your lips.

"Is everything okay? You look.." like you don't want to be with him right now. Uncomfortable. "Huh? Ye.. Everything is alright right now. You're here now." Why do you look like you're trying to convince yourself right now? Did you even realize you did not even try to go for a hug like you usually does the moment you see him at the airport?

Imagine Itoshi Sae wondering where it all went wrong as he watched you pack your things as he stood there at the door right after you told him, "Things aren't working anymore between the two of us that's why... We should take a break."

Imagine as he sat down on the sofa at the spacious living room, he turned on the television to at least bring noise into the silent room. Only to find your favorite slow playing that sent a pang on his chest. He did not even dare turn it off. He just stood up and went into the kitchen when he found a still hot meal at the table, a note left right beside it.

Do not misunderstand, I still love you. Heavens, God I do Sae. I love you very much, but I can no longer do this alone. You know what I'm talking about Sae. I can't be in this all alone when it should be the two of us together. I'm sorry. I really do, but I really can't do this anymore. I hope you don't starve yourself, not tonight, not tomorrow, and the following day. Please do take care of yourself, I hate to see you neglecting yourself.

- (First name)(Lastname)

Imagine the way he scoffs and rolls his eyes, the note slowly crumple in his palm. But then, eventually, he let out a sigh and sat down the seat right in front of the meal left on the table. He doesn't have an appetite. And yet, as his shaking hands picked up the cutlery on the table, as he piece by piece ate the meal on the table. A single tear falls down, followed by another.

Imagine, the more he thinks about it. The more he realizes, he was the one to blame for all of this. It was never you. It was him all along, was it not?

"So the thing was, one of my coworkers-" "I'm sorry, can we talk about this next time? I'm really tired, we just finished a game and.." "Oh, I'm sorry. You didn't inform me you have a game today, I could have watched." "Hmm. Yeah, I forgot." Then he groan, "Sorry, I'm really tired I'm hanging up." "Okay dear, I love y-" Call ended.

yesterday, 8:47 p.m

You: Jgh, what about you?

You: Oh wait it's probably around lunch in there, have a nice day, dear. Please do eat a proper meal. :)

yesterday, 9:30 p.m

You: Dear?

You: You left me on read, is everything alright in there?

You: I hope you're alright.

yesterday, 10:28 p.m

You: Sae?

You: I know you're busy, but can you at least tell me if you're doing well in there?

yesterday, 11:47 p.m

You: I'm sorry if I'm bothering you right now, but I'm worried.

today, 3:24 a.m

You: I just contacted your manager, idk why I haven't done that in the first place, but at least I can now sleep knowing you're just knocked out after practice. I'm going to sleep now, I'm sorry for the spam messages, I love you. :)

"I didn't know you had a game today." You spoke over the phone. "Huh? I didn't tell you?" "You didn't." There was a bitter smile on your face. "Sorry, I must have forgotten about it. It's nothing important, after all." "Nothing important, you say.." "What was that?" "Nothing dear." You laugh. "When will your next game be? It's been a while since I've watch you on the field." "Oh that? I'm not sure." There was a few moments of silence after that. "(First name)?" "Yes dear?" "I got to go." "Alright, take care, I lov-" Call ended.

"You see, I've seen this great place for couples and newlyweds for a perfect vacation-" "Can't we just stay home?" "But dear, we've talked about this-" "It's been a while since I've been given a vacation, can we just.. Can't we just stay at home?" Frustrated, he didn't even look at you, nor was he able to pick up the hits you've been giving him, even the way you were caressing the empty spot on your ring finger, and lastly, the crestfallen look on your face that was quickly replaced by a fake smile. "... Alright, let's do that."

Imagine the way it was all coming back to him at that very moment. The way he just sat there, eating and crying, he could not even utter a word nor let out a sound of pain. Because he deserves it, he deserves every bit of pain he was feeling right now for taking you for granted and realizing it, a little too late. You have already left, and right now, all he could do was wait. Wait for you to come back, even if you might never wish to do so.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°

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m-musings · 5 months

Note

HIII

im actually so excited omg i dont wanna sound mean actually the opposite but you write for a couple of pretty dead fandoms and im just so happy to see new writers for them.

can i request hcs for rotg (either jack frost, or bunnymund, or pitch, whoever you like. maybe the three of them??? idk go nuts show nuts) with a grim reaper reader? thanks! :D

Headcanons: Jack Frost, Pitch Black and E. Aster Bunnymund with Grim Reaper! Reader

A/N: anon I'm dying at go nuts show nuts, that's the funniest shit i've read in a while but anyways yeah, all 3 sounds good to me lmao. also, I wasn't sure if you wanted platonic or romantic so i just kept it on the friendly side, i hope that's okay!

Word Count: 450 Warnings: mentions of death/ dead people

Jack:

Jack is a bit wary around you at first simply due to the nature of your job.

But once he sees just how gentle and kind you are with the souls you reap, he's back on board with getting to know you.

As he gets more comfortable with you, he'll definitely make fun of you like he does with the other guardians but he does it with love!

Jack will occasionally accompany you when you're reaping a younger soul. His presence seems to calm them down if they begin to panic, even if they sometimes can't see him.

If you ever get a break from reaping, he will invite you to participate in one of his famous snow day snowball fights as a way to forget about the sadness that sometimes comes with the responsibility of being a being of death.

He's still the excitable and reckless Jack Frost but when you're around, he's more mellowed out and - forgive the pun- chill to hang out with.

Pitch:

Pitch is intrigued by you from the start.

While he may control people's fears, it is a rare occasion for him to actually interact with one, let alone one as important as the personification of death itself.

He knows just how powerful a reaper can be so he is always sure to treat you with the respect you deserve.

The one time Pitch tried to convince you to join him against the Guardians, it ended with a scythe pointed at his neck and a stern scolding from you, so he doesn't bring that subject up around you anymore.

Pitch actually enjoys spending time with you though, he feels that your presence is much more tranquil and calm than that of the other spirits he knows.

He can be maniacal and full of himself but deep down he has a strange admiration for you and the job you do.

Bunnymund:

Bunny has known you for a long time and has come to highly regard you as an ally.

You two mesh well together, because without the deaths you take watch of, he wouldn't be able to help bring new bouts of life into the world.

He refuses to see any of the souls you may bring around The Warren though, it makes him kind of squeamish.

He will occasionally help you wrangle up a lost soul or two but it's very uncommon for him to be around during the actual reaping.

Bunnymund and you do spend the most time together just because your roles are so interconnected with one another (Guardians of Life and Death and all that).

All in all, You and Bunny are very close knit and have a great respect for one another.

#rise of the guardians #rise of the guardians imagine #jack frost x reader #bunnymund x reader #pitch black x reader #headcanon

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sashiavi · 7 months

Text

•·········🍑······• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𝓓𝓪𝔂 𝓢𝓲𝔁⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•······🍑·········•

𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 2023

#6•𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌•#6

𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚌 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ¹.⁴ᵏ

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

→ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ←

ᵀʰᶦˢ ᴾᶦᵉᶜᵉ ᴹᵃʸ ᵇᵉ ⱽᶦᵉʷᵉᵈ ᴬˢ ᴰᵘᵇᶜᵒⁿ ⁻ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᴰᶦˢᶜʳᵉᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᴵˢ ᴬᵈᵛᶦᶜᵉᵈ

Diluc was absolutely infatuated with his sweet, sweet Wifey, he was completely enamoured by the domesticality she brought into his busy life. Archons knows, sometimes he felt so utterly guilty, leaving his poor sweet darling at home all alone while he wanders out for the day - Diluc was a busy man, unfortunately, he had many commitments outside of his personal endeavours. He hadn't properly spent time with his sweet Wife for far too long and this date was well overdue. She graciously went out of her way to prepare the sweetest picnic for the two of them. Simple but delicious sandwiches and the richest chocolates in all of Mondt, splayed out beautifully on rich mahogany serving boards.

Diluc's mind fled astray, the effort his sweet Wifey poured into this moment, choosing a beautiful location just barely away from a bustling crowd of people. Under a pretty bridge surrounded by sweet smelling flowers, just enough privacy for the two of them to get lost with each other. His heart throbs at the simple yet love filled gestures she makes for him, refilling his glass and hand feeding him treats from her palm. He could feel his cock swell in his trousers, filthy thoughts plagued his cranium, with utmost desire for his darling sweet little wife.

Diluc couldn't remember exactly how he had managed to get his sweet Wifey laid under him, lipstick smeared messily over her lips, dress loosened and barely clinging to her form. Diluc bites against her soft, plump lips, devouring her pretty tongue with his own. Soft, hushed moans ripple from his darling's throat, right on his tongue, he swallows them up eagerly. His hands wander, easily caressing over the memorised curves of her pretty frame, squeezing at her perky tits, groping at her jiggly ass. He felt awful but Archons, was she insatiable, he couldn't keep his filthy hands off of her sweet little self. The amount he missed her day in and day out was undeniable, the pang of guilt he felt returning to a quiet home after a long, long day was too much. The sheer sight of her was enough to set him off, have his thick cock ache in his pants like some lovesick teenage boy.

"Diluc.. Not here, there's people-" His silly little Wife gasps into his mouth. Gods didn't he know it, perhaps he ought to put on a show, let the world know just how much he adored his perfect girl. He hikes her long skirt up, pooling it around her waist, showing off her racy laced panties, pretty and red, his favourite colour. Archon's his perfect Wifey thought of everything. He could just take her right now. Diluc growls, the sound grumbles from deep within his chest. He plants hot, wet kisses against her pretty thighs, nipping marks into her skin. He plants sparse kisses on her clothed clit while he attacks her soft inner thighs, revelling in the soft hiccuped mewls she makes with every wet press of his lips.

"..'Luc… someone's coming- can hear-.." His sweet wife pushes her hand through his bangs, attempting to push his lips from her skin. She was right, there were a set of footsteps trekking across the bridge they were situated under. Diluc bites hard into her inner thigh, cock swelling at the short squeal his silly wife barely manages to cover. He licks at the mark in mock apology, his tongue especially warm over the stinging mark. Diluc pulls himself up, nosing against his Wife's ear, breathing hot, sending shivers down her body. The footsteps above never seem to cease, when one crosses the bridge others follow. Muffled voices and the sound of boots scraping across the aged wood makes his cock ache. The light between the boards of the bridge flickers with the shadow of the people moving above. His hand trails down her body, his warm palm cupping his Wife's pretty pussy through her panties. She breathes out with just a little too much voice, sounding the softest moan into his neck.

"Shh.. shhh Darling… Don't want to get caught do you? 'Said it yourself, there's people." He chides her so sweetly, his voice low in her ear. Archons, think of the reaction - The elusive Master Diluc toying with a pretty girl under a bridge, barely known as his Wife to the general public.

Diluc slowly rubs at his silly Wife's pretty clit, his palm heated deliciously over the achey bud. Her breaths are shaky, trembling, trying her very best to stay quiet while Diluc teases at her pussy. A set of footsteps stop in the middle of the bridge, muffled voices muddle through the cracks of the boards. Diluc can feel his sweet girl's arousal pool into her panties, staining them a dark red with her creamy slick. He huffs a short chuckle, teasing a finger against her swollen bud before pulling his trousers down, just enough to free his drooling cock. He rubs his fat tip up and down the soft, pretty fabric of her underwear, pushing his head against her weeping hole through her panties. His silly Wife rolls her eyes back, gnawing at her bottom lip, her gaze locks on to the shadowed figures above them.

Diluc slips his fingers past the groin of her panties, pushing the fabric to the side revealing the pretty mess of her pussy beneath it. He breathes through his teeth, rubbing his cock head through her folds, catching her sweet creamy slick all over his cock. He prods at her achey hole with his tip, just dipping it in and out. Gods, the noises her pussy makes on his cock, slick and wet and loud.

"Thought you didn't 'wanna get caught.. pussy's beggin' for it" He whispers meanly, sinking the length of his thick cock slowly into her soft warm cunny. His silly Wife sighs out, biting into her finger to stifle any unwanted noises. Diluc tuts in mock sympathy, pouting his lips at her before making quick work of her gushy cunny. He thrusts his cock meanly, trying to get any sort of peep out of her. The muddled voices above become clear for a moment, a distinct sentence chimes through the boards.

"Do you hear something?" It says.

Diluc can feel his silly Wife's pussy clench on his cock, becoming wetter and hotter on his length. His cock glides easily within her walls, so fucking slippery and creamy. His Darling covers her mouth with her palm, silencing any chance for sound escaping her. Diluc couldn't have that, he takes her swollen clit between his fingers, pinching at her meanly. She squeals behind her hand, legs squeezing at his side, cunt pulsing on his cock. The voices continue;

"Must be a bird? Let's go, we have a reservation soon" The voice trickles away, footsteps clunk over the bridge before disappearing into the nearby dirt path. Diluc's silly wife breathes a sigh of relief, it's short lived however. Diluc's pace becomes brutal, hips clapping into his Darling's body, earning him the prettiest of cries. His hands hook under her thick thighs, squeezing at the soft flesh. He presses her squishy thighs into her tummy, mounting her creamy cunny with his thick cock. He fucks into his dumb little Wife from above, his heavy balls slap against her puffy pussy. Archons he needed this, missed her sweet stupid pussy on his cock. She cries under him, mewling soft moans between her teeth. He finds it in him to lean down, kissing so sickeningly sweetly at her puffy lips, dipping his tongue into her mouth.

Her mascara stains her cheeks, running down her face in pretty black lines, fucked stupid on his cock for anyone to see. Archon's he was done for, his hips speed up, pelvis slapping into her own, clapping so sweetly against her skin. His sweet wife hiccups, moaning soft little staccato notes into his shoulder. Her gushy cunt sucks him in, begs for the thick push of his cock, who was he to deny? She bumps her clit into his groin, crying out without a care, fucking him back so sweetly. His dumb little Wife is quick to cum, squirting messily over his cock, her slick creamy fluid leaking over the swell of his own balls as they clap into her pussy. Diluc doesn't last long, he pushes his fat cock deep into her creamy cunt, plugging her up with his length he shoots thick, creamy ropes into her messy pussy. He keeps his cock in her, all fucked dumb and plugged up so sweetly, his milky cum barely drips over his length.

Archons, he should take next week off.

Sweet men that aren't so sweet and are actually terrible people ♡♡♡

I just like it when diluc corrupts me

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always Appreciated! ♡ I Love Hearing Y'alls Thoughts *Sob*

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 months

Note

Can Jay read me to sleep pls? Family holidays mean I need comfort

Same. This fucking blows. Here's not that, but some Jason anyway.

"Stephanie," Dick said taking a head count of the assembled ladies in the party, "where is Y/N? We seem to be missing one particularly charming beauty-"

"Is she not-" Stephanie looked around the crush and bit her lip, "Oh dear."

Dick traded looks with Tim as Cass glanced at Jason who's Jaw had tensed as he scanned the crowd. "What happened?"

"She must have stepped away for a moment. She said she wasn't feeling well and Miss Vivian and Mr. Graham- you know how very proud they are of their library-"

Jason felt his heart kick up a notch. The Library. Right next to the room where a bunch of lecherous old fools and idiotic young dandies would be drowning their common sense and their manners at the gaming tables with appalling amounts of alcohol. And you were by yourself?

That would never do. Before he could think, or even grab one of his sisters to drag with him, he's gone. Not entirely sure how or why he feels like you need to be protected but. Hell if he's going to let some old codger ruin you and then make you out to be a scheming little harlot.

He wound his way up the stairs and through the hall, forcing himself not to run. But the relief that washed over him when he realized you were still alone- it was short-lived.

"Y/N?" he called softly. The room was dim but for a the moon and the streetlamp's light coming through the window. "Are you-"

"I'm quite alright, I just- I'm sorry, Mr. Todd. I'll rejoin the party in a moment."

Jason edged closer the the sound of your voice, leaving the door ajar and took a deep breath. You didn't sound alright. You sounded desperately unhappy. And it needled. "Jason," he corrected, gently.

"I-I don't think-"

"I think," he said, forcing himself to keep his tone light as he worked toward your voice, "That my sisters will never stop scolding me if I don't give you permission to just call me Jason." You'd tucked yourself in a dark little corner, obviously intending to have a little cry, a sulk, or maybe just... a moment's peace but. He couldn't feel bad about interrupting you.

Not when you looked so much like a painting. Three weeks since he'd seen you. And all he could think about was how lovely you would look with a garnet necklace. And some less gentlemanly part of his brain added 'and nothing else'. Making him grateful for the darkness in the room so you couldn't see him blush.

"If you're sure-"

"Quite sure," he said, kneeling in front of your chair and offering a fresh handkerchief. "Don't cry, wildflower," he said, "Whatever it is-"

"It seems like every time we talk all I do is cry or faint," you murmur.

"Sometimes you make very funny jokes," he said. "Did someone ruin your slippers? Do I need to send Stephanie after them?"

"No I-" You break off and shake your head, "It's not serious. I shouldn't trouble you with it I just. I guess I'm being foolish-"

Before he could stop himself Jason gripped your free hand and bent his head to kiss it, "If you were being foolish you'd be crying in front of everyone and causing a scene," he said. He didn't add that you were foolish to be alone. Not now. Not when he was so close and the room was so quiet you hardly needed to do more than whisper. "Tell me?"

"I-it's going to sound so terrible."

"I promise it won't." Last night he'd tracked a murder suspect. And the night before he'd had to question a grieving widow.

"I- my Aunt and Uncle have decided that I'm to pay them back for my room and board. Which means that at the end of this Season I'll have no money and I just- what else is there?"

And when you start to cry in earnest, hiding your face in your hands, trying to make yourself smaller for comfort, Jason feels his heart twist. "Don't cry," he pleaded. "What else is there? Wildflower-" He stopped and pulled your hands from your face, tilting your chin up carefully and as he wiped your face, he couldn;t help it.

The air was thick. So heavy and full of the scent of your perfume that if he didn't do something- anything- Before he knew it his lips were claiming yours.

Not as tenderly as he wanted. Or as chastely. But when you squeak in surprise and then... melt. He can't stop. He just can't. You taste exactly as good as you smell. And your lips- like ripe, sweet fruit. All he can do is keep going.

And it's not untl he hears a crash that anything else registers at all.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #gaslamp!Au

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ckret2 · 4 months

Text

Chapter 34 of human Bill Cipher not making friends with Stan during his imprisonment in the Mystery Shack, featuring: the tooth fairy and her dentist attempting to steal Bill's teeth in the middle of the night. Stan would care a lot less if he weren't still handcuffed to Bill. And also: Stan and Bill have a friendly chat. As you can see.

####

Even though Bill and Stan were trying to watch the same TV as they had dinner, Bill refused to sit in the living room with Stan; so he sat on the bottom step of the stairs in the entryway, Stan perched on the end of the couch, and they strung the handcuffs around the doorway with their little plastic microwave dinner trays balanced on their knees.

Both of their dinners had come out undercooked. Both of them were too proud to complain.

After picking through maybe a third of his meal, Bill decided he'd rather go to bed hungry than eat something he didn't enjoy, dropped his tray on the floor, and kicked it into the kitchen. "Hey Stanley, still glad you went with the cuffs instead of the bracelets?"

"Shut up."

Bill smirked victoriously, and looked back to the TV. "No mayonnaise in Ireland."

"What?"

Bill pointed at the screen and the rows of blank letters waiting for contestants to fill them in. "The round that just started. That's the solution."

"Oh." Stan counted out all the blank letters, frowned, and said unconfidently, "It can't be that. It doesn't make any sense."

"You're wrong," Bill said lightly; and then fell silent, running the tip of his tongue over the new gold spots on his teeth.

When the contestants had guessed enough letters that one could hesitantly offer, "Is it... 'no mayonnaise in Ireland'?" Bill smirked triumphantly at the sound of Stan's silence. He just barely waited until the next board of blank letters flashed on the screen, and then announced, "Tip your waiter."

Stan counted the letters under his breath. "Man. I thought I was good at this, but we'd clean up if we put you on this show. No one would ever figure out how you're cheating."

Bill laughed. "Listen to you! If you were Ford, you'd just be mad that I'm giving away all the answers before you can guess. That's the great thing about you, Stanley: you don't get irritated at me for stupid little reasons. You're more fun." He took a deep breath and shouted, "Hey Ford, did you hear that?! Stan's the fun twin—!"

"Keep it down, you idiot. Ford's in the basement, he can't hear you." Stan had thought Bill was finally sobering up from the sedative; maybe not. (Then again, maybe this was just what he was like sober.) "And what are you talking about? You irritate me all the time!"

"Oh, well, I guess I just don't care when you're irritated." Bill laughed.

Stan grumbled, planted his chin in his hand, and tried to focus on Cash Wheel. It was difficult when he already knew the solution.

He tolerated the silence for less than a minute before sighing, looking toward the doorway, and demanding, "What's with you, anyway? Why are you so obsessed with my brother?"

Bill spluttered in disbelief. Stan could feel his handcuff chain jerk over. Voice even shriller than usual, Bill said, "Excuse m—Excuse me?! Obsessed? Moi?! I don't know what you're talking about!" He forced a loud laugh.

"If Ford's in the room, he's the only one you talk to, and when he isn't here you're yelling across the house for him—"

"Is it obsession to sometimes pay a little more attention to the human here I happen to know best and to whom I happen to be a teacher, muse, and friend—"

"Oh that's a load of bull," Stan snapped, "you're not any of those things! Friend? Friend? He wants you dead, you crazy—"

"Well if he does," Bill said, louder still, "then wouldn't it make perfect sense to keep my eye on the guy who killed me? There's no big mystery—"

"That's it! That's just it!" Stan tossed down his TV dinner and stood so he could face Bill properly. "He didn't kill you alone, remember? That was a two-man con you fell for! But you keep talking like Ford was the only one there!"

Without bothering to stand, Bill looked up at Stan and said, quite confidently, "Only one person killed me. You're just the place where I was killed."

"I wh...?" Stan fell silent, blinking at Bill in disbelief.

"Do you even remember what happened inside your brain? After you took my hand?" Bill asked. "You don't, do you?"

Stan glowered at Bill, but he shut his mouth and said nothing.

"I knew it." Bill laughed nastily. "We were both trapped in there when Fordsy fired the gun. Completely powerless. You were weeping and begging for a way out when the flames got too close, but there was nothing I could do by then—"

"All right," Stan took a threatening step closer, "I know that that didn't happen! I would never—"

Bill leaned back, hands raised palm out in appeasement, "Okay okay okay! All right, you got me—just embellishing the story a little—we actually had a big psychic laser battle. Imagined up all kinds of futuristic weapons. It was very 90's action movie. You did... fine, you were fine."

Stan considered that. "Ehh... sure, that sounds more like me."

"But it was all imaginary," Bill snapped. "It was a vast illusion! At that point there was nothing either of us could do to the other. We were just two victims locked inside a burning house as it came down around us. You didn't kill me, you never even had the power to kill me."

"Huh." That was all Stan said. But he kept looking at Bill, frowning distrustfully, studying him.

Bill's shoulders slowly went up under the pressure of Stan's gaze. "Oh—oh wow, okay, I see what's going on!" He gave Stan a crooked, mean smile. "You're jealous, aren't you? You thought offering up your body to be the scene of a murder finally made you a co-star instead of a sidekick! All your lives, Stanford got more attention from daddy, more attention from the teachers, more attention from the whole world... and you thought you'd finally get at least a little attention from the big bad living nightmare. Just because you let your brother shoot you in the head!" Bill laughed. "You weren't special enough for anyone else—why do you think you're special enough for me?"

Stan jerked Bill to his feet by the handcuff's chain. "I bet I'm special enough to break your face!" He dragged him into the living room, fist raised. "Let's see if you stay down this time—"

Bill scrambled back as far as the chain allowed him. "NO!" Horror filled the one ragged syllable. His free arm was raised to shield his terrified eye.

They froze, staring at each other.

Bill straightened up, forcing a nervous, rattled laugh. "Come on, I just got all this dental work done. At least give me a couple days to enjoy it before you pound it in!" He was talking fast to fill the silence. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind having a flatter face, all these bones and cartilage jutting out never did feel right—"

Stan feigned a punch.

Bill flinched.

Stan laughed at him, slapping his knee. "You big chicken! Look at you! Baw-baaawk-bgawk! HA!"

Bill tried, very hard, to explode Stan with his brain. This usually worked on people who dared try to insult Bill Cipher. "If I had one billionth of a billionth of my power, I'd have already destroyed you—!"

"But you don't, sucker!" Stan laughed louder.

Bill screamed in frustration, turned his back on Stan, and stomped upstairs to sulk.

Or, he would have, if he hadn't gotten one step up the stairs before the handcuffs yanked tight. He stumbled back, landed on his butt, and inadvertently jerked Stan down on one knee with a yelp.

Bill cast a resentful look at Stan—who was rubbing his shoulder and finally looking as irritated as Bill felt—and then he lay down and deliberately stared straight at the ceiling. "Whatever. I don't even care about your pointless mammal posturing. It's fine. It doesn't bother me. I'm calm. You're just making yourself look stupid." Bill shut his eyes. "I wanna go to bed."

####

"Bill," Ford said.

Bill cracked open an eye and peered up at the form looming over his makeshift cushion bed. "Mrm?"

In a very calm voice that suggested he was not calm at all, Ford asked, "Why are you sleeping on the floor in front of my bedroom door."

"Oh. Right, you missed it." Bill yawned and sat up. "Well, you see, Stanley got us handcuffed together until tomorrow morning," he pointed at his cuffed wrist and rattled the chain, "and I tried to be accommodating, but he doesn't want to sleep in the attic and won't let me sleep in the guest room—"

Stan yelled through the door, "And Mr. Accommodating here still refuses to sleep on the sofa bed."

"—so the best compromise we've got is sleeping on the floor with the chain under the door. Not my idea of a fun evening, but." Bill shrugged ruefully, like an adult resigned to indulging the whims of a petulant child. "Do you want in? It'll take us a little coordination to get the door open, but we've already done this once, so—"

"I'm not messing with this," Ford said. "I'm sleeping in the basement. Good night, Stanley."

"Night, Ford."

Trying not to sound miffed at being snubbed, Bill said, "Hey, do you still keep your cot on that rug you used to channel me better?" He laughed.

"Nope. I burned that rug." Ford turned the corner and left.

Bill stuck his tongue out at his back. He didn't actually know whether Ford was lying. He wished he'd thought to check out Ford's study before heading down to the portal back when he'd had his time tape.

"Hey." He rapped on the bedroom door. "I thought we weren't asking Sixer for help so he wouldn't find out about the handcuffs." They hadn't actually discussed it, but he'd taken it for granted. "Now that he knows, why aren't we getting his help?"

"What, you think I need his help to solve all my problems? Ha!"

"Okay, fine. Doesn't matter to me, I'm used to sleeping on the floor." Bill lay back down and sighed.

He shut his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

####

Bill wasn't quite dreaming, but for a few seconds it was something very close to a dream. He saw points of light in darkness. One of his earliest, oldest memories. He'd memorized the constellations outside of his plain when his starblind species didn't even have a word for "constellations."

But these weren't those points of light in darkness. Some nearer, some farther—he could sense their distance—and all of the lights were calling to him. All of his eyes. He could see so many more than he had last night.

One was just a few inches away. He could almost reach out and grab it.

But those few seconds of light-in-darkness were in the gray twilight between the dreamscape and the physical world, and Bill only fleetingly glimpsed them as he passed from sleep back to wakefulness. He opened his eyes.

To see a person looming over him.

And the taste of thick metal tools in his mouth.

"Hi," Bill said, for lack of anything better to say under these circumstances.

It was enough to make Dr. Illing gasp and stumble back from Bill. "Jeez." He clapped a hand over his heart. "I'm sorry— I-I didn't want to—"

"Uh-huh." Bill sat up and took the abandoned tool out of his mouth—pliers. They'd been gently clamped around one of his canine teeth. "Not the most unpleasant thing I've had aimed at my face in the middle of the night," Bill mused, "but it's pretty high on the list." He tried to lift his other hand to feel his face for damage—and only remembered the handcuff when the rattling chain caught his wrist in place.

They both looked at the cuff. As Dr. Illing realized Bill was trapped, a change came over his face—a desperate, crazed fury.

Bill shook his head. "Ohhh, no no no—"

"Give me that!" Dr. Illing lunged for Bill, one hand reaching toward the pliers and the other toward his throat, trying to pin him against the door.

Bill shoved his feet in Dr. Illing's chest, trying to hold him back. "Stanley!" He pounded on the door with the pliers. "We have visitors, wake up!"

"It'll only take a second," Dr. Illing insisted. "You were going to give me one anyway! And that tooth is already loose! You can handle the pain! Just—hold still, I can't damage it!" He managed to get his thumb in Bill's mouth—he cringed when Bill bit down, but didn't back off—and pulled a fresh set of pliers out of his tool bag.

Bill parried the pliers with his own pair. "STAAAN—"

The door unlatched and Bill tumbled backward into the room. He twisted out of the dentist's way, slid the handcuff chain out from under the door, and skittered behind Stan.

"Wha—what's—?" Stan squinted into the dark hallway. "The heck's going on?"

Bill stretched to Stan's nightstand and grabbed up his glasses and hearing aids. "Put your face on!" He shoved them in Stan's hands, then reached back for his dentures.

Stan put his glasses on first. "What the— Illing? What are you doing here?"

Dr. Illing stood forlorn in the hallway, trembling all over, eyeing Stan nervously. "Uhhh," he said eloquently. "I just..." He gestured around Stan's shoulder toward Bill, "wanted to check her fillings. I thought one of them might be a little loose—"

Bill's cackle cut through his excuses. "Oh, come on! I know your boss put you up to this! What does the little lady want with my mouth?"

Dr. Illing's eyes widened. All he managed to produce was a squeak.

Stan said, "What 'little lady,' this guy's self-employed. What are you talking about—"

"The tooth fairy, genius!" Bill flung his free hand in the air. "Why did you think your dentist pays you to pull your teeth! He lives in a van, who'd you think was funding him?!"

"Uh," Stan said. "You know, I sort of just took his whole 'creepy sadist who bribes people to let him pull their teeth' shtick at face value." (Dr. Illing's shoulders slumped.) "But—I know things are weird around here, but the tooth fairy's gotta be fake, right? That's the stupidest..."

A fairy popped out of Dr. Illing's bag—just large enough to use an adult man's hand like a chair, with a bob cut so white it almost shone, giving off a glowing toothpaste-blue aura, wearing a necklace of baby teeth like a hunter who'd taken trophies from the bones of her kills.

"Oh," Stan said. "Well. Never mind. Just one more crazy thing in this town."

Bill's back went stiff, his eyes widened, and he curled his fists into the fabric of Stan's tank top like he was holding his shield in place. "Oh, she's here." He lisped an inhuman swear under his breath.

Ignoring them, the tooth fairy glowered up at Dr. Illing. "How did they know? What did you tell them!"

"Nothing!" he protested. "I swear! I'd never!"

"Well, you must have let something slip—"

Bill swallowed hard; but then he straightened up, let go, and stepped into the open. "Why, if it isn't Miss Pearl E. White, in the fae flesh! To what do I owe such an honor?"

Dr. Illing and the fairy both flinched. She asked, "How do you know my...?"

"Oh, Pearl. I know things you couldn't even dream of." Bill favored her with his best, widest, most unnerving grin.

And got the creeping sense that she'd stopped looking at his face, and started staring at his teeth. He pressed his lips together. "And here's just one thing I know: lady, if you were toeing the line of your treaty any harder, you'd be tripping across it. So tell me what you're doing here and what you want."

She huffed defensively, wings buzzing as they lifted her several inches in the air. "I'm well within the terms of the treaty! I haven't laid a hand on you and I'm not about to start, and I've been offering more than adequate financial compensation—"

"Oh, right," Bill laughed, "I'm sure the queen of your court would be thrilled to hear you ordered your legally-dubious helper to rip out someone's teeth in the dead of night—"

"Hi," Stan said, "question. What the hey are you guys talking about. Treaties? Queens?"

"Oh, this is all going over your head, isn't it! I'll catch you up." He turned to the side to point accusingly at Pearl, "Little miss enamel-happy here has a thing for teeth. To the extent that she started stealing them straight out of humans' mouths. She went so crazy that the local human settlements actually declared war on her court over her dental kleptomania—and the fairies she dragged into the conflict weren't any happier about it than the humans were. So now, under the conditions of a human-fairy peace treaty, she's only allowed to acquire already freed teeth that are voluntarily offered to her by their owners—which is why she started bribing children."

Pearl crossed her arms, fuming. "That's a very biased version of events. You're just trying to paint me in the worst possible—"

"Save it, sparkles! I woke up with your minion's pliers in my mouth, I'll be as biased as I want!" He shifted his attention to Dr. Illing—who seemed to wilt under the force of Bill's glare. "But she's getting deep in a gray area working with this guy. Once a tooth is handed to a dentist, he's its 'owner,' and can freely give that tooth to the tooth fairy—but him extracting the tooth puts the whole operation on shaky legal ground. Really, I think the only reason you've gotten away with this racket so long is because nobody's filed a legal challenge with the fairy court yet."

"Nobody's complained about it," Pearl said hotly.

"None of your victims know about it," Bill countered. "Hey Fisherman," he jabbed Stan's arm, "how do you feel knowing your teeth were sacrificed to the tooth fairy?"

He considered that. "Well—it was free."

Pearl crowed, "Ha!"

Ignoring Stan's reply, Bill blithely moved on: "But by any reading of the treaty, hiring a human to steal teeth straight out of someone's mouth is beyond the pale. So you'd better have a good explanation for this!"

"Yeah. I do have a good explanation." She sucked in a deep breath. "I want your teeth!" She launched herself toward Bill; Dr. Illing had to grab her around the waist to hold her back. "I'd do anything for those teeth! They're the most amazing teeth I've ever seen!" She clawed at the air, hissing and straining as she tried to reach Bill.

"My lady, please," Dr. Illing said pathetically. "The treaty—"

She aimed a swipe at his face. "I know about the stupid treaty!"

Bill stared at her, baffled. His perfectly normal human teeth? But he shook his head, smiled, and said, "Well okay, fantastic! It's been a while since I've bargained with the fae, but I'm not too attached to this body—so how much gold do you have on you, kid?"

"We're not bargaining. You already know too much," Pearl snapped. "I'm not about to get blackmailed by a human, and I'm not going back to fairy jail. So here's what's happening." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward Dr. Illing. "I'm gonna have my guy rip out every one of your teeth, and then rip your head apart so you can't talk, and the only negotiating you get to do is whether or not my guy uses the local anesthetic before he starts. So what's it gonna be?"

Dr. Illing went deathly pale and his knees shook as he verged on fainting.

"Hey," Stan waved at the fairy, "listen, I'd love to see this guy's head get ripped apart, but—crazy thing, long story—it turns out there's fifty-fifty odds that killing him could end the world. So, maybe let's talk this out—?"

Pearl gestured dismissively at Stan. "His mouth has nothing left of interest to me. He's a witness. Kill him, too."

Dr. Illing swallowed hard; but, with trembling hand, he reached into his tool bag and slowly pulled out a large power drill that definitely wasn't designed for teeth.

"Right," Bill said. "Okay. This'll be fun." If he said it convincingly enough, maybe it would be true. "Hey, Fisher—you know that spell Sixer's got on me? If I cast it on Frankie here, can you..."

"Yeah, I see where you're going."

Pearl's eyes narrowed. She pounded her tiny fist on Dr. Illing's finger. "Hurry up, before they—"

Before she could issue a warning, Stan charged at them, fist raised. Dr. Illing flinched, shielding his face with the drill; but Stan dodged around him, heading for the hall. Bill seized Dr. Illing's upper arm as he passed—"Amnesia Limina, Stupidi Digiti, Occultus Locus!"—and then Stan yanked Bill out into the hall by their chain and slammed the bedroom door.

Dr. Illing gasped. "What?"

Blue light radiated through the cracks around the door as Pearl darted around, shrieking, "Open the door, you idiot!"

There was a moment of futile scrabbling. "How?!"

Bill and Stan retreated to the entryway. Bill said, "If we get outside, we can lose 'em."

"Or get the car and run them over," Stan said.

"You don't wanna be the guy who kills the tooth fairy! She might be in the doghouse, but she's still old fae nobility. Her court would—"

Bill cut off as Stan opened the door. Instead of leading to the porch and the forest beyond, it now opened into a bone-colored cathedral, the arches and vaulted ceilings constructed out of what looked like small irregular pebbles: teeth.

Stan gaped at the vast chamber. "Where the heck...?"

Bill looked at what had once been the outside of the door; the numbers "13 / 32" were carved into the wood. "Nowhere we want to go! Shut it!"

Stan slammed the door.

"That explains how she got in," Bill muttered. "There's no time to un-enchant this exit, we'll need another one."

Stan pointed toward the living room. "We can go out the—"

"The floor room exit." Bill dragged Stan back toward the hallway they'd just left.

"What?! That's the other end of the house, you idiot, the gift shop's right through here!"

"But it's a straight shot down the hall—" Bill stumbled to a stop.

The tooth fairy was clawing her way out from under the bedroom door. She caught sight of Bill, and her wings raised in a sharp V like a wasp preparing to attack. "You!"

"Never mind."

Stan dragged Bill back toward the living room. "Now can we go—"

Bill saw the living room—that familiar dark room, the familiar walls and carpet, the familiar armchair facing the doorway as though welcoming him back, the pale blue light from the fish tank climbing the walls like flames—and Stanley Pines, dragging Bill by a chain toward this tomb—and he grabbed on to the staircase railing. "Up."

Stan jerked to a stop. "That's a dead end!" He tried again to pull Bill toward the living room. "Are you insane?!"

"Yes." Bill locked his hand around the railing like a corpse in rigor mortis. He'd break his fingers before he let go. "We're going up."

"We are not—"

The tooth fairy shot past them like a glowing blue bullet, streaking into the kitchen. Stan started, and Bill took the opportunity to drag them up the stairs. Stan finally followed.

"You're not getting out of here with my teeth!" Pearl screamed after them.

"Ignore her," Bill muttered, "she can't risk touching us and she knows it. She's powerless without her minion." He stumbled on a step and just kept climbing on all fours.

"I wouldn't bet on her self control!" Stan struggled to keep up, his cuffed wrist in the lead. "Why are we going this way? How do you expect to get out from the attic?!"

"I don't know! It just seemed like a better idea! Do I have to think of everything?!"

"This was your plan!"

"There's got to be a ladder in the storage over the kids' room, we can get down out a window."

"I don't keep ladders—!"

"Well maybe Jesús does, do you know everything in the attic?! Come on!"

Bill kicked the door to the kids' room until Stan opened it. After a short argument about who should climb to the storage loft ("I have to look, you can't see in the dark!" "And you can?! Since when!" "Since always! You didn't need to know!"), Bill scrambled up the makeshift rungs nailed to the wall while Stan climbed halfway up to give the handcuffs a little slack.

As Bill started searching for anything useful, Pearl's ranting filled the shack: "Those teeth are too good for you!"

"I think she's getting closer," Stan said. "Find anything?"

"Not yet." Bill pulled out a broken umbrella with a hooked handle. He clung to it like it was his only defense as he scanned the loft for any signs of a ladder.

Pearl went on, "They're the most beautiful, pristine, unblemished, perfect teeth I've ever seen in my life!"

Bill asked, "Are they really that great?" He'd never paid that close attention.

"Eh..." Stan shrugged and made a so-so gesture with one hand. "A little weird-looking, honestly. They've got those jagged bits in the front that make 'em look like kids' teeth?"

"Huh."

"They're pure," Pearl snarled. "I've never seen adult teeth so pure! And you're ruining them by drilling out chunks of perfect enamel for unnecessary fillings! You don't have the right to those teeth! I deserve them!"

"Hey Bill," Stan said. "So you knew my dentist works for the tooth fairy, right?"

Bill was dragging aside a large box to see if anything ladder-like was hiding behind it. "Yes."

"And you knew she goes crazy for nice teeth."

"Yes." No ladder; he moved to another stack of boxes.

"And it didn't occur to you that she'd be furious that you carved up your new teeth."

"It's in the past, Stanley! Focus on the present!"

"—and I don't even know how you got magic teeth," Pearl continued. "Fully adult teeth in a fully adult mouth, but somehow they're barely a month old! It's impossible! I could barely believe it myself until I saw your mouth with my own two eyes! I must have those teeth, as soon as possible, so I can preserve them exactly like this, who knows if I'll ever find such a novelty again—"

"Ahh, so that's it," Bill said. "Welp, nope, didn't see that one coming at all."

"She's been shouting a while without actually coming after us," Stan pointed out. "What's she up to?"

Bill paused. "Check." He lay down and stretched his cuffed arm down from the loft to give Stan enough slack to peer out the bedroom door.

Stan frowned. "Huh. Weird."

"She's upstairs?"

"Yeah. But she's just flying in a circle. With... I think a veggie container from the fridge?"

Bill sucked in a breath. "Do we have mushrooms?"

"Wh—yeah? How'd you..."

"What!" Bill half-climbed half-fell to the attic floor. "That little cheater's making a fairy ring! That's not fair!" He leaned out the door with Stan. "She's probably already made the matching ring downstairs. We have to destroy it before—"

The circle of chopped portobello mushrooms glowed white; and with a glittery puff, Dr. Illing appeared in the ring. He coughed out a lungful of fairy dust.

Pearl pointed at Stan and Bill and screamed, "Get them!" With a murderous scowl and terrified eyes, Dr. Illing stared them down and revved his drill.

Stan yanked Bill back into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Dr. Illing whined. "Aw, f—again?!"

"Just break through it!" Pearl commanded. "It's just wood! You have power tools!"

"He can't do that," Bill said confidently. "Doors don't work like that."

Stan said, "He can do that." A power tool whine announced Dr. Illing beginning his assault on the door.

"Oh." Bill considered that, eyes scanning the bedroom from one side to the other, mouth set in a grim line. "I have an idea." He pointed toward the window with his umbrella. "Stan, open the window." He hooked the umbrella over his elbow as he ripped the bedsheets off Dipper's bed and started tying the corners together.

Stan shook his head in disbelief. "You don't really expect us to climb out that window on bedsheets, do you?"

Bill dragged Stan closer and murmured in his ear, just quiet enough that their assailants wouldn't hear him over the power drill, "No, I expect them to think we climbed out the window, while we hide in the closet in the alcove. Once they're past us to check the window, we can sneak out and run downstairs."

"I don't like hiding like cowards instead of fighting. Illing's rickety, we can take him."

Bill kept tying bedsheets. He picked up Dipper's zodiac blanket, flinched, and tossed it to the floor on the other side of Dipper's bed rather than add it to his chain. "Funny—you didn't seem to have any problem hiding for a week while I had your brother prisoner."

Stan grabbed Bill by the shirt, dragging him closer. "You wanna say that again?"

Bill's hands shot up next to his face in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, sorry—"

"There were people in this shack I wanted to keep safe," Stan growled. "I'm not half as fond of you."

"Got it," Bill squeaked. He pointed toward Mabel's bed. "But I can see a dozen futures that end with our brains splattered across Mabel's dolls. I do not want to fight power tools."

There was a crack as the drill flung the first few splinters of wood free from the door. Stan's scowl deepened, but he let go of Bill and nodded.

They tied the bedsheet rope to a table leg, opened the window, and flung the rope out the window; then retreated into the alcove at the other end of the room, pulled shut the ragged curtain that hid it, and closed themselves in the closet to wait for the tooth fairy and Dr. Illing to break in.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If y'all enjoyed, I'd love to hear what y'all think! Next week we conclude both with the tooth fairy and with whatever the heck is going on between Stan & Bill.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle stan #stanley pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(i traced 90% of Stan from the canon death punch because i wanted to make the parallel As Blatantly Obvious As Possible lmao)

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 4 months

Note

Jack one sentence “I’m sorry for making you cry.”

Jack white knuckled the steering wheel as he drove to your apartment. He had a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach after your last argument, and when you didn't answer his calls or texts all day while he was at the studio, he was sure you were upset with him, and honestly he couldn't blame you.

He knew he sounded like a broken record, but he had a bad habit of starting fights to get his frustrations about work out, and you were often on the receiving end, unrightfully so. Usually, you were quick to forgive and the two of you would make up, but this fight felt different and he wasn't sure if your relationship could come back from it.

He heard a muffle cry behind the door as he slipped his key into the lock, and his stomach dropped at the thought that you spent the day alone and upset. He quietly moved through your apartment till he found you in your bedroom, bundled up in your covers, tears streaming down your face, wads of tissues surrounding you on the bed.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" His presence caught you off guard, so you scrambled to clean up your mess of takeout containers and Kleenex.

"Baby, I'm sorry for making you cry. I've been an asshole to you lately, and I know I need to change-"

You held up a hand to stop him. "Jack, babe, what are you talking about?"

"This isn't about our fight yesterday?" He gestured around the room.

"What? No! I have the day off and decided to stay in and watch some movies. I was watching 'The Lovely Bones', I can't watch it without sobbing every time. C'mere." Jack pressed a knee into the mattress as he crawled over to you, settling his head in your lap. You covered him with the blanket and moved your hands to massage his scalp, your fingers intertwining with his messy curls.

"Were you worried about me all day?"

"I love you. I worry about you all day, every day. I just really thought we were over after yesterday." Jack let his chest collapse in a sigh, his eyes closing.

"Jack, just because we fight sometimes, doesn't mean I want to break up with you. I know you're stressed, but those arguments are so far and few between, the rest of the time, you are almost he perfect boyfriend."

Jack let out a chuckle, looking up at you. You grazed your fingers over his cheeks as you took in his beautiful blue eyes, full of love for you. "Almost?"

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, pulling back with a smile. "Well, you kind of lost some points when you didn't bring me something to eat to apologize. You know food is the way to my heart."

"Okay, I see how it is." Jack jumped off the bed and disappeared out to the kitchen, quickly returning with a paper bag from your favorite bakery in Louisville. He held the bag out to you but quickly snatched it away before you could grab it. "Jack, what the hell?"

"Call me the perfect boyfriend."

"You're losing points by the second, dude." He gave in immediately, handing over the bag. You took in the scent of maple donuts, relishing in a bite. "Perfect boyfriend, 10s across the board." You mumbled out with your mouth full.

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

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auspicioustidings · 6 months

Text

Firewatch Part 7

Summary: John Price comes to terms with the reality of you.

Words: 1.8k

CWs: Kidnapping

You had considered just refusing to eat, had your hand on the edge of the plate ready to push it right off the counter in a huff, but one look from Price who seemed like he might actually do something about it if you did stopped you and you swallowed down your pride and ate lunch. It was delicious. Fucker. You could smell the orangey creme brulee that had been made for dessert and were fighting between not accepting it as a protest and trying it because it smelled so good and not doing so felt like you were the one being punished.

The little dish was slid in front of you by a softly smiling Kyle and you wanted to smack that smile right off of his face. Why was he looking at you all indulgent like that? After the shit he just pulled? You grumpily cracked the sugar shell and took a bite. It was wildly delicious but the only thing you could taste was orange on your tongue. You flushed and felt your pussy clench around nothing, still worked up and needy and now reminded of how those fingers had tasted.

That was about as much indignity as you were willing to suffer so you pawed the dessert slowly off of the counter in disgust to clatter onto the floor and hopped off the stool. While Kyle only chuffed softly and Johnny did fuck all to hide a surprised little grin at the small outburst, Price’s eyebrows were furrowed with some sort of confused disappointment.

“Ye’ll need tae clean that up.”

“I’m technically dead, remember? Pretty sure that means I don’t have to clean anything up ever again.”

“Ye’d naw be the first Ghost biding here bonnie thing, and he always manages tae clean his messes just fine.”

“Consider me a poltergeist.”

“Need tae break oot the ouija board Gaz, get our wee poltergeist talking pretty instead of misbehaving.”

“Now where did we put that old thing?”

You glared at them and they grinned at you and for a small, tiny moment it felt like it could be fun to banter away with them like this. And then Price was off of his stool and picking up the dish and dropping it so hard into the sink that the sound caused a flurry of wings outside.

John was usually more controlled than this. He shouldn’t be letting his mind get this muddied, but it felt that everytime he thought he knew what you would do next you went right ahead and did the opposite. He thought hauling you into his office would scare you straight and instead you had been defiant. It wasn’t lost on him that there was heat mixed with that defiance and that affected him so much he had just left you there alone and went to walk it off.

Only when he got back, it was to Soap and Gaz in a fist fight. Not the first time and wouldn’t be the last of course, Soap had a short fuse and sometimes needed one of them to get physical with him, let him work it off. But he could hear you crying. What the hell had happened? How could he have left you all full of heat and rebellion and come back to this? So he stopped it, ordered Soap to get himself ready and go see Simon to cool off. Watched Kyle comfort you. Comforted you himself without even meaning to.

And then he had thought this would make you finally settle and it didn’t. His hand on your waist caused a flush on your skin and a fire in his blood. He fucking wanted you. Not that soft love he had always imagined on long watches in the tower, following your day with the binoculars. He thought one day he’d kiss you softly and you’d melt into him, letting him slowly lay you down on a nice, plush bed as you’d say such sweet little things to him that he’d know that it was the right decision to put a ring on your finger. But you were nothing like that gentle little lady that had existed in his mind, and it made him some mixture of angry and burning with the need to fuck all of his feelings right into you, possess you in ways entirely different from a pretty ring on your finger and a slow press into your heat.

He had to get away from you then, realising how close he had come to completely losing control. Simon had noticed he was off immediately but just given him a firm squeeze on the shoulder and a look of understanding. At least he wasn’t alone then, at least Simon obviously struggled with the reality of you. Still though, Ghost was happy to play rough with Soap for a bit, burn off all that agitation the man was carrying.

And maybe that helped Price settle in a way as well, gave him time to just look out over their forest, their home, and take some peace in how beautiful he’d always found it. Looking out of the tower in one direction he could see the burnt remains of your cottage and then a bit beyond that the small town. He walked the perimeter so he could look out into the other direction, where it was just forest as far as the eye could see, mountains painting the horizon. If he didn’t know where to look, he wouldn’t even be able to pick out the little glimpse of their cabin through the trees.

How strange it was to think that from them to you had always been just a turn on his heel, and he had done it so often. Looked fondly at their cabin and felt the warmth of home, turned to look longingly at your cottage and felt the contentment of the future he could imagine with you.

It didn’t last as long as he would like because then they were back at the cabin and you were doing the opposite of what he expected AGAIN. Hearing you moaning for Gaz got him right back to that volatile mixture between angry and needing to fuck you and then hearing you give away your half baked plan? He had to turn away and light a cigar to distract himself. Even if you had no chance of pulling it off, the fact that turning them against one another had been something you had been considering… once again Price had at least 3 or 4 little daydreams of you that had gotten you totally wrong.

The thing that made him snap in the end was how easily Soap and Gaz adjusted to the reality of you. At least Soap needed to be mad about it first, but Gaz? He so easily flowed around all of the things they were learning about you and bended as he needed to let you flow around all the things you were learning about them. Price was their Captain, he was supposed to look after his team. He had thought he would be able to look after you. And instead it was Gaz doing all the work because he was too confused over every single thing you did to do his job.

The silence after the clatter of the dish made him feel intense guilt at losing control of his emotions like that. He swallowed it back, muttering the word brat under his breath. Unfortunately for him Soap had always had insane hearing and fortunately for you he also didn’t hold on to grudges or anger. Right now Johnny was playful, Simon had gotten all his aggression out and he was more than happy to smooth over whatever Price was feeling.

“Hear that bonnie thing? Even Cap kens ye’r a brat” he said, standing himself to manoeuvre behind you, his toes right up against your heels as he gave a little shove to your back.

You found yourself bent over the island counter suggestively, hands splayed on the surface to try and keep some sort of balance. While it was certainly hot, you rolled your eyes and twisted your head around to glare at him. He was playing with you, teasing. The easy grin on his face was proof enough of that.

“Want a spanking? Bet I could get the brat right out of ye, would that naw be nice for ye?”

“Nice? If someone is going to spank me, it’s going to be someone that actually knows what they’re doing,” you sniped, stamping on one of his feet when he gave a light tap to your ass.

Your stomach was starting to cramp from you getting continually worked up but not finishing and you were not about to ask him for anything. One because you still hated him, you kept telling yourself you still hated him, and two because he had said you needed permission from all of them. If you actually let him touch you he would get you right on the edge and then leave you wanting because Simon wasn’t here to say yes, you knew for sure that he would. How bizarre that after such a short time you were adjusting to the personalities around you, anticipating what they might do. Johnny? He burned through emotions intensely and quickly you were learning, going from furious with you to trying to play with you without too much fuss. Hotheaded.

He barked a laugh and backed off of you, tugging at the back of your shirt to pull you up to standing and dodging when you tried to fling an elbow back into his stomach. Maybe you would have been fine, maybe you could have sort of kept it together, but Price laughed. John Price laughed and it was warm. John Price laughed and you couldn’t help but feel relieved at the sound, tension from the idea that he was upset leaving you even though you should want him to be upset.

Yeah, it was certainly time to get out of their space and get your head on straight. You slipped away with a huff, heading for the bathroom.

“I’m using the shower. Might be nice if I could have some clothes that actually fit after” you said, trying to be venomous.

“Demanding brat as well” Price laughed after you as you glowered at him and huffed off to the bathroom.

You may not have been anything like he had thought, but John Price was starting to come around to the idea. So much so that when Soap casually turned off the hot water he only shook his head with a grin. Your frustrated scream gave him such a sick sense of satisfaction.

“Well, we did say she couldnae cum without permission. Dinnae want her tae be tempted now.”

#mhairiwrites #tf 141 x reader #cod au #fanfic #gaz x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #resisting the temptation to bombard you all with hoop photos instead of actual content btw

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popironrye · 3 days

Text

The Lost Boys

Leisure Headcanons

💋 David 💋

Is a skilled fire arm shooter. (Loves the cowboy aesthetic)

Has his own gun hidden in the cave.

Doesn't get the chance too often, but will ride a horse when the chance arises.

Likes wood carving. Mostly non specific whittling into basic shapes or animals. It helps him relax.

Movie nut! When the boys go the Max's store to fool around, David makes sure to tuck a movie or two that catches his eye in his coat. Tends to watch them alone, all the questions from Paul would just grate on his nerves too much.

I imagine David would be like REALLY good at origami for no particular reason. He doesn't even try, just once the boys do it just because and he's just the best at it.

I don't know if vampires can emerge in water in the lost boys lore, but if they can David loves to swim. Chilling in water clears his mind.

💀 Dwayne 💀

Skater boi! Does a lot of sick tricks, but when you can levitate it's less impressive. XD

Doesn't care for guns, but likes archery. Hammers his own arrow heads. Dwayne and David like to pick a spot in the woods to shoot make shift targets.

A real book worm. Will spend a lot of time just silently reading for hours.

Takes up knitting from time to time. He prefers hand knitted blankets and throws rather then the store ones.

Likes to make jewelry. Made his own necklace.

Enjoys all types of puzzles. Cross word, jigsaw, and brain teasers.

Can sew and offers to sew up holes made in all the clothes the boys decide not to get new ones.

🌿 Paul 🌿

Can play the guitar.

Also likes to sing, and is pretty good at it. Wanted to start a band, but the other boys weren't up for it.

Has the biggest music collection and is always hogging the tabletop/cassette/cd player.

Amateur photography. Just likes to take photos randomly. Some are really artsy.

Got really into tie dye for a while. Although he might have just been high.

When he wants to relax, Paul really likes to stargaze. Laying outside the cave looking at the sky and hearing the waves of the ocean just makes him feel at peace.

When David isn't using the tv monitor, Paul enjoys quite a few video games. He also likes to take on the arcade and carnival games at the boardwalk.

🪶 Marko 🪶

Aside from pigeons, Marko will try to domesticate a number of animals to the cave, including stray dogs, cats, deer, badgers, squirrel, foxes, bats, and even a black bear once.

He did in fact not domesticate a black bear, but he did wrestle one.

He does his own patchwork on his jacket.

Like David, he likes to sculpt into wood, but he usually carves patterns and landscapes into more grand pieces.

He's also a skilled painter. Mostly he'll paint murals on sections of the cave David says is ok for him to paint on.

He collects sea shells on the beach.

He'll style the others hair. Especially David who he'll cut and dye in the way he likes best.

🔥Pack Activities🔥

Dart throwing. The bigger the target the better. David and Dwyane are very competitive at this one specifically.

Rollerblading. Put wheels on shoes, what more can you want?

Listening to music. The boys have very wide music tastes and sometimes they cross over and they all like the same stuff. They take turns around the player of their choice to just smoke, drink, and listen to the sounds of the music plays.

Card games. Specifically poker when they're all together. They make things more interesting when they make bets.

And of course motocycle cruising and board walk loitering.

Something that always strikes me with vampires in fiction and indeed with any immortal creature with the high and emotional intelligence of humans. IMMORTALITY IS FUCKING BORING!

I mean, think about it. Imagine you're given all the free time in the world with very little responsibility with no fear of getting sick or tired allowed to do pretty much whatever you want. What would you do? Cause I would go stir crazy. So I came up with these dumb little head canons on how I image the boys specifically would pass the time in their little vampire lives that doesn't revolve around murdering and feeding off of people.

Of course cruising on their bikes come to mind. And there's a couple in the movie we get to see like Dwayne's skateboarding and Marko's fondness for pigeons but I wanted to throw more possibilities out there. :3

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #david tlb #david the lost boys #dwayne tlb #dwayne the lost boys #paul tlb #paul the lost boys #marko tlb #marko the lost boys #tlb headcanons #my headcanons #headcanon #hc #share your thoughts

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brbsoulnomming · 8 months

Text

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 13

-----

Eddie wakes up in the morning - or at least, he thinks it's morning, though he guesses he could still be losing track of time, and it might still be the same day. His head lulls automatically to the side, gaze seeking out the hospital bed next to him like it's second nature, and -

Steve's gone.

There's no one there, the bed clean and empty with sheets all tucked and a pillow still in plastic, like no one was ever there in the first place.

Fuck, what if he wasn't there? What if Eddie's doped up brain imagined all of this, giving himself the comfort of a circle of friends that would stay with him in the hospital, that promised they wouldn't leave him and meant it? What if he really is alone now?

His breath is coming in short, desperate gasps, and he recognizes enough to know that he's hyperventilating again - though it feels distant, fuzzy, like it's happening to someone else and he's just observing.

Somewhere through the thick cotton obscuring his ears, he can tell someone is saying his name.

It's Dustin, fuck, he knows that voice, and he knows that means he's not alone, that they're still here with him, but he can't quite seem to get the rest of him on board with that thought, can't make it cut the panic racing through him.

There's a loud squawk by his ear, a hitch-pitched whine of feedback and a rush of static, and that startles him enough to focus in on Dustin urgently asking someone to do what they did before.

"Hey, Eddie, can you hear me?" Steve asks, voice tinny but still there, and Eddie tries not to feel pathetic about how hard he latches onto it. "You're all right, you're safe. You're not alone. We've got you, Eds, everyone's okay. We all made it out, we're all with you."

He keeps up the mantra as Eddie's breathing slowly evens out, as he feels himself settle back into himself. Dustin's sitting next to him, eyes wide and panicked, clutching a walkie-talkie and holding it up close to him as Steve's voice sounds from it.

"I'm-" Eddie starts, then has to swallow a few times around how dry his mouth feels. "I'm here. I'm good. Just - saw your bed empty when I woke up, kind of panicked."

"We've all been there," Steve says. "I got myself discharged a few hours ago - I'm out getting things ready. I'll let Dustin take it from here, okay? See you guys soon."

Eddie hums an affirmative, and Dustin lets go of the walkie, tucks it back into his pocket. There's a moment where Eddie has no idea what the fuck to say, but then Dustin shoots a little smile at him.

"It's okay," he says. "It happens to all of us. We skipped school to be with Will the first time this all happened, and I spent the night at Steve's for a week straight once."

Eddie's eyebrows shoot up. "Your mom let you sleep over at Steve Harrington's place for a week?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "She loves Steve, it's kind of annoying. I told her he got his concussion defending us from bullies that time, and he needed someone to stay with him and make sure his brain didn't bleed out of his ears in his sleep."

There's a pause, and then the kid's eyes go a little bit earnest, like he's trying to sell him on something. "It was great, though. Steve made breakfast every morning, and he let me get whatever I wanted on my pizza, and he cooked dinner sometimes too, and he's got a huge TV and a ton of movies on tape, and he only complains a little bit if you-"

The door slams open, and Eddie jumps.

"We gotta go," Robin says as she and Lucas crowd into the room. "Did you tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Eddie asks, eyes darting around the room, fully expecting to see clocks or vines or fucking bats. "Is it Vecna, did that fucker recover already?"

"No, Max says he was in pretty bad shape. He's gonna be down for a while," Lucas replies.

"It's the cops and the rest of the town looneys," Robin says, taking up a post by the door while Lucas paces across the room, looking out the window. "We heard on the police radio channel, they found out you're here. We gotta get you out."

"Fuck." Eddie swallows, tangling the fingers of his good hand in the sheets of the hospital bed so tight it makes his knuckles creak. "I'm kind of out of options on safe places to lay low and recuperate here."

"What?" Dustin looks affronted. "No you're not. I told you, you've got us."

"All of us," Robin says, as Dustin comes to stand by her at the door.

He cranes his head down the hall. "Is there a doctor coming to release him?"

"Yeah, Erica yelled at him until he gave in, he's on his way." Lucas glances away from the window to look at Eddie. "We hid El in Mike's basement for days without anyone knowing, you think we can't do the same for you?"

Robin snorts. "It's not going to be Wheeler's shitty basement, Eddie, don't worry."

Eddie stares at them. Part of him is aware of what they're saying, is processing that he needs to get out of the hospital and he's not going to have to do it alone - that even though the world isn't technically ending right now, they're all going to stand by him.

But he feels like he did when they came back from sticking up for him with Carver and the others - overwhelmed, like he hasn't done anything to deserve this, like he doesn't know what to do with such clear, undeniable evidence that they've made him one of this party now.

"Eddie?" Dustin asks, stepping in a little closer. "You okay?"

Eddie snaps himself out of it. "Yeah. Just - fuck, all right, let's do this."

Robin helps him stand up, stays by his side as he steps into a pair of loose scrubs that someone's scrounged up for him - he doesn't ask, and he's assuming the clothes he wore in the Upside Down are trashed - and lets him lean on her shoulder so he's somewhat steady on his feet by the time a harried looking doctor makes it into the room.

"You realize you're not ready to be discharged?" the doctor asks immediately.

"I'm over eighteen," Eddie replies. "You can't keep me here if I want to leave, right?"

The doctor sighs. "You'll be leaving against medical advice."

"But I'm not going to, like, die of blood loss or infection or something if I do?" Eddie presses.

"We can't answer that question with any surety without another few days of observation," the doctor replies, then relents when everyone glares at him. "It's highly unlikely."

"Just tell us what we need to do to keep an eye on him," Robin says.

The doctor goes over the cliff notes - soft foods for a while, showers are okay but no soaking, no lifting things over five pounds, there's a page of stretching exercises for his shoulder and leg, a timeline for recovery, and a prescription for the rest of his antibiotics and a smaller one for some painkillers.

"That's all I can give you since you're leaving against medical advice," the doctor says, which Eddie knows is a load of bullshit, but he's too exhausted and itching to get out of here to call him on it.

They herd him out of the room and to the elevator, standing in a little half circle around him like he's got his own little string of tiny bodyguards, and the thought makes him giggle, just a little bit hysterically.

"You guys look like little lion cubs," he says.

"You think we can't protect you?" Dustin asks, sounding hurt.

Eddie shakes his head. "No, no, I'm feeling very protected right now. Thank you."

The elevator dings, and Eddie takes a deep breath as he steps off - into a controlled chaos. The waiting room is packed, some gurneys set up right out there with nurses tending to what seems like minor cases, and even some people sleeping on the floor. Eddie feels a moment of swooping panic, but no one even looks his way. They shuffle him out of the hospital to where Nancy and Erica are waiting in the Wheeler station wagon.

Eddie gingerly climbs in, and Lucas and Dustin slide into the backseat with Erica.

Robin holds up his prescription. "I'm gonna get this filled. Swing back and grab me after you drop them off?" she asks Nancy.

Nancy hums an affirmative, eyes flicking around to make sure everyone's wearing their seat belts before she takes off.

Eddie thinks about asking where they're going, but his stomach and chest and legs and arm ache, and he's wiped just from the walk out of the hospital and to the car. So he just tips his head back against the seat of the car, closes his eyes, and tries to hold himself still enough that the seatbelt doesn't rub up against his wounded gut.

Eventually, the car stops. He expects more talking, but there's a tense silence in the flurry of activity, until someone pulls open the car door and is unbuckling his seatbelt for him.

"Shit," Dustin says. "Is he out again?"

"M'up," Eddie mumbles, though admittedly, he's not entirely sure he's up for moving.

"Go get Steve," Erica orders imperiously. "Someone needs to drag his sorry ass around again."

Eddie forces his eyes open. "M'up, m'up, I got this."

In the time it takes for him to get oriented well enough to notice that the car is in a garage, and then shuffle around to get his feet pointed in the direction of out, though, Dustin's apparently managed to collect Steve, who emerges from what Eddie assumes is the door to a house, wearing a pair of sweats and a Hawkins swim team sweatshirt.

Eddie waves his hands around, preemptively slapping Steve away before he can even get to him. "No," he tells him, as he comes to a stop just out of slapping range. "I know you've got stitches, too. No heavy lifting."

"We're not going to lift you, Eddie, we're just going to help," Nancy says, coming around to his other side, and -

Hmm.

"Yeah, okay," he agrees, lowering his arms for a moment before changing course, and holding one hand out to each of them.

Nancy takes one hand, and Steve the other, and they both step in closer to help guide him out of the car and to his feet. They promptly sling one of his arms over each of their shoulders, and start shuffling their way into the house. Eddie pretends the sharp hiss and the sting of tears in his eyes are due only to the edge of pain from the movement, and not to the fact that he's feeling overwhelmed again by just how willing all of them seem to be to help him when he needs it.

The house that they shuffle him through is fucking pristine, a laundry room that feels bigger than Eddie's kitchen right off the garage and into a hallway, a closed off double door to the right and then a massive living room. There's an l-shaped sofa all made up with pillows and blankets, and that's where they take him, letting him settle down on it with a sigh of relief.

"Robin's filling his prescriptions," Nancy says to Steve. "I'm going to go get her, we'll be back soon."

She heads out as the herd of children Eddie apparently belongs to now troop into the living room, their voices all clamoring together.

Steve whistles, sharp and clear and making Eddie wince, though it does cut through the noise.

"You two," he says, pointing at the Sinclairs. "With me, we're calling your parents from the kitchen. Dustin, you're after them."

The noise picks up again, and this time Eddie can make out loud protests. Steve puts his fingers to his mouth again, and nope, nope, Eddie does not want that sounding off this close to his ear again.

"Hey!" he roars, and even though it makes his throat hurt, it works to shut them up. "Thank you."

"Parents," Steve repeats. "Or they're going to come looking for you, and maybe no one else will think to look for you guys here, but they will."

Dustin groans, but he doesn't protest again.

"What are we even supposed to tell them?" Lucas grumbles.

Steve shrugs. "What do you usually tell them?"

Dustin considers. "…yeah, okay, the babysitter cover will probably still work."

"Add in the Starcourt special," Lucas says.

Eddie looks between them all. "Is any of that supposed to make sense?"

"I told you, our parents love Steve," Dustin says. "He's been beaten up enough protecting us that they think he's some kind of defender against bullies and natural disasters."

Unwillingly, Eddie remembers the headlines after Starcourt, puts it together with what Robin'd told him and how beat to hell Steve looked when Eddie saw him. It doesn't sit well with Eddie, how casually Dustin talks about Steve getting beat up protecting them, but he also remembers Dustin holding onto Steve like he was a lifeline back in the hospital, so he thinks maybe it's a coping mechanism as much as it's a belief that Steve is invincible.

"We'll just tell them Steve was with us when the earthquake hit, and he kept us safe, then we waited with him at the hospital until he was discharged," Lucas says. "It's not even technically a lie."

Erica snorts, unimpressed. "And how does that explain you three sneaking out of the house when the cops were there and running away?"

"The cops? Oh, fucking great," Steve mutters. "What'd they say to you, are you guys okay?"

Max waves her good hand. "They didn't have anything on us. We weren't under arrest, they didn't tell us not to leave the house. They've got nothing."

"Question," Eddie says, holding up a hand. "How does that fit in with Steve carrying my unconscious ass into the hospital and telling everyone we were attacked?"

"You were attacked by the real killer, obviously," Dustin says, rolling his eyes. "But we're not going to bring that out until things have settled down a little."

Eddie considers if it's worth protesting exactly how flimsy that cover story is, and how much it won't hold up to anything, but - well. If he thinks too much about how deeply screwed he is with this murder stuff, it just makes him panic, and he doesn't really have room for all of that right now considering he's barely able to physically function.

He's pretty sure their parents will be too focused on their kids being safe after the "earthquake" for now, so he lets it go.

Steve seems to agree - or comes to an entirely different conclusion with the same result, fuck if Eddie knows, because he just points at Lucas and Erica again. "Kitchen. Now."

The Sinclairs reluctantly follow him, leaving Max and Dustin alone with Eddie.

"They're probably going to make us come home," Dustin mutters.

Max gives him a disdainful look. "At least you probably have a home to go back to."

"Wait, what?" Eddie asks when Dustin winces.

"The trailer park's a wreck," Max says flatly. "The earthquake or whatever it was hit the worst at the gates."

The gates. One of which was on the ceiling of his living room, right where -

"My uncle," Eddie says, trying not to freak out. "Is he okay, has anyone-"

"He's fine!" Dustin says hurriedly. "He was already out of your guys' place, cause, you know, crime scene. The school's been set up as a temporary housing until they can get everything sorted out, he's there."

Fuck if that doesn't make Eddie feel guilty all over again, but knowing his uncle is at least physically safe calms him down.

Max looks a little abashed, like she'd forgotten that she wasn't the only one in this little group who lives on that side of town anymore, which makes his heart go out to her. It's easy to forget about the things that should divide them, when they're all focused on saving the world and just trying to survive another day. He wonders how she deals with it when they're not all caught up in the Upside Down - wonders if she just hasn't been dealing with it at all, considering he knows she's a new resident of Forest Hills and that she'd been pulling away from the group before this.

She doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't ask.

Steve comes back before it gets too awkward, eyes automatically landing on Max in a way that, for a ridiculous moment, makes Eddie wonder if the guy is actually psychic.

"Mrs. Sinclair is asking for you," Steve says. "Do you want to come talk to her?"

His voice is soft, gentle, and he gives Max time to think it over - Eddie gets the feeling that Steve already has an excuse prepared for the Sinclairs if Max says no.

Max's eyes dart over at Eddie and Dustin for a moment, like she's not sure she wants to say anything in front of them. Then she deflates a little and looks back at Steve.

"My mom call back?" she asks.

"Not yet," Steve replies. "We can try again."

Max's jaw sets, and she shakes her head. "No. I want to talk to Mrs. Sinclair."

She stands, and doesn't push Steve's arm off of her when he grabs her in for a side hug as he guides her back into the kitchen.

Dustin leans back in the recliner he'd claimed, propping his booted foot up on the footrest. "I'm going to see if Mom'll let me stay over here a few days," he declares.

"Good luck with that," Eddie says. "Your mom's love of Steve aside, you've been gone for days. I think she's entitled to a day or two of hovering over you."

Dustin's nose scrunches, like he really wants to protest that but he's pretty sure Eddie's right.

"Fine," he mutters. "But you guys have to agree to walkie me every night. Every night, Eddie. And you have to make sure Steve leaves it on, and charged up, and I'm going to make him promise to check in as soon as he wakes up in the morning."

His heart - his stupid, not nearly cynical enough heart - cracks a little. "I'm okay, Dustin. Steve and I made it out okay."

"This time," Dustin says, and he won't meet Eddie's eyes, his voice thick enough that Eddie suspects he's holding back tears. "But you almost didn't. You almost died, Eddie, if El hadn't been ready for Vecna maybe you would have. And Steve - he's my brother, and I know he thinks he's invincible but one day he's not going to be, and he doesn't know how much I need him, how much I need you both -"

"Hey," Steve says.

Dustin yelps at the same time that Eddie jumps, hissing when that pulls at his stitches.

"Shit, Steve, make some noise next time!" Dustin complains.

"Sorry," Steve says, then reaches out to ruffle Dustin's hair. "I know, Dustin. Eddie and I both know, okay? We need you, too."

Part of Eddie wants to wheel back, to tell Steve that's awfully presumptuous of him, but - the part of him that he doesn't want to acknowledge, the bigger part right now, really fucking likes the way Steve says we, the way it makes Dustin stop looking so broken.

"Go home for a few days, then you can tell your mom that you're worried I'm going to rip my stitches trying to take care of myself and come stay over for a while, okay? We'll do it just like the first time."

Dustin considers that for a moment, then nods. "Okay."

"Good," Steve says. "Because it's your turn. You want me to bring the phone out here?"

"Nah, I can make it." Dustin lets down the recliner and slowly shuffles his way to the kitchen.

Steve shoots Eddie a look, and there's something quiet and intense in his eyes, something that Eddie feels like he can almost get, if he just -

Then Steve's moving, following Dustin back to the kitchen, and it's gone.

Eddie's alone.

This is the first time since he spent that long, shitty night in the woods that he's actually had some space to himself without one of the others in this strange little party right there. Part of him thinks he should enjoy the reprieve, taking in a breath and letting it out without worrying about what anyone else might see. Part of him thinks he should be panicking, like he did every time he thought he might have been left alone in the hospital.

He doesn't know what he actually feels.

There's a faint murmur of voices from the kitchen, low and soothing, and he thinks - he thinks about how if he yelled, any one of them would come running for him. He thinks about how if he heard yelling from them, he'd be launching himself up off this sofa and scrambling for the kitchen, bloody bite wounds or not. He thinks about how he ran, and how he didn't, and how none of them seemed to blame him when he ran from an invisible monster that turned a girl who was nothing but nice to him into a broken doll, and how they yelled at him for almost dying when he didn't run from a mob of demon bats who almost tore him to pieces. He thinks about how not one of them ever called him a coward, thinks about how they dragged him out of hell and slept in his hospital room and whisked him off to safety.

He thinks, maybe, they might just keep him, even if he isn't Steve's soulmate.

Steve comes out of the kitchen, shoots him a little wry smile and says, "Kind of figured none of us really want to be alone right now," and Eddie -

He thinks, fuck, he still really wants to be Steve's soulmate anyway.

Taglist (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

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Part 14

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie soulmate au #robin buckley #dustin henderson #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #nancy wheeler

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