#his laugh muscles are as weak as his hair is greasy

[seoulcheonsa]

Habit

Xu Minghao (SVT) as Theodore x fem!reader Tags: vampire!, a little angst, some crack, a bit of fluff, implied smut (MDNI! PLEASE!) WC: 2.1k Warnings: just implied smut, a lot of cursing, and mentions of alcohol. (lmk if i missed anyth !)

Her phone rang, showing an all too familiar sequence of numbers. She should have blocked him, honestly; but for some reason there’s always something that holds her back. How could she, when even if she deleted his contact, she knows his number by heart? So for the third time that week, she picked up.

“What do you want Theodore?” she huffed out.

“Theodore?” he scoffed, “that’s not my name, I’m baby”

“Cut the crap, Theo. Are you drunk again?”

“I miss you, baby.” At that, she felt her resolve falter. Call her weak, but she missed Theo too. There’s no doubt she still loved the asshole, but she had to keep reminding herself that there was a reason why she left him. He can’t seem to make his mind up every time she brings up the issue of their relationship. It’s always “I want you” but he follows up with “why can’t we be happy just like this?”

Theodore who always pulls up in his full stereotypical leather jacket and muscle car. Theodore who opens doors for her, always coming with flowers he picked up on the way over, but then disappears for days at a time. Theodore who runs away at any semblance of a demand for his vulnerability. He has roamed this earth for a century, but under no circumstance did any of his lovers ask for his entirety. He thought he picked them well. And he knows he could just look for someone else to pursue, someone who would never challenge the boundaries he set. However, for reasons he can’t admit even to himself, he couldn’t stay away.

Every night since she decided to leave, he gets drunk out of his mind and calls. And every time he calls, she answers. Maybe it’s out of pity, out of love, or out of habit; but she does. Maybe she’s hoping that one of these nights, he’ll decide that they want the same thing out of the push-and-pull they’ve been at for months.

For months, Theodore was the most thoughtful boyfriend-non-boyfriend. Dates were always planned out, and there was no way he would allow her to go to their dates by herself. He knew she was bad with directions, and what type of lover would he be if he let her get lost? In the same way, she prided herself on getting to know all of Theo’s habits without him pointing anything out. She knew he preferred hot pots over greasy food, that he always has a hand on her unconsciously, and that he shut her out whenever she asked about his past or life in general.

“Talk to me when you’re sober, Theo,” she rolled her eyes, knowing he can’t see it.

“I know you’re rolling your eyes. I miss making them roll when you’re under me.”

“Fuck off.”

She ended the call and placed her phone face down on her desk, not forgetting to set it on silent. Which is futile anyway, because she can’t stand not going through all the notifications on her phone at once, or else she’ll forget all about it.

Theo sighed and pocketed his phone, stumbling into the back seat of his car. Looking around, he counts all the pieces of her that she left in his beloved car, things he never got rid of. There were two little, silly looking baby dolls that she placed in the cup holder near the gear stick that prevented him from having and leaving more than one drink in the car; hair ties around the gear stick; a brush, a tube of hand cream, and a pair of socks in his glove compartment that he never takes out just in case; a blanket and pillow in the backseat; and a bunch of stickers that she stuck on the visor of the passenger seat’s side. He laughed at himself, not believing he let her vandalize his car. What was a few stickers on his car, he could just buy a new one right? Sure, that’s why. But he could never rationalize why he kept around socks in his car and the very pillow plushie that he’s lying on in his drunken state. Must be out of habit.

He sent a few more texts to her before falling asleep to the scent of her hair left on the pillow.

It took her half an hour of tossing and turning before giving up on sleep entirely. Sleep just wouldn’t come when thoughts of Theo plagued her mind, and it didn’t help that he just laid his heart out over text and then stopped replying after all of that. She knew he was shitfaced drunk, there were out of character typos all over his script, but was it so bad to believe that drunk words were sober thoughts? Maybe so.

After grabbing a hoodie, one of his, she stepped out into the dead of night, deciding that maybe a walk would help her rid her mind of thoughts. This idea was cut short when she spotted a black Maserati outside her apartment building. She knew whose it was, there was no denying that.

Theo heard knocks outside his car window, taking him out of his sleep. Disoriented, he glanced around, realizing that he had fallen asleep in his car again. He fell asleep in his car, outside her apartment, again. It’s become routine at this point, like he’s still looking for her presence even in his drunken stupor.

He opened the door and stepped out the car to face her, finally. She was glaring up at him, her arms crossed. Even in that state, under her gaze, he cracked out into a silly grin.

“You’re so pretty,” he reached out to touch her hair, which she deflected with her arm. This didn’t break his smile, but instead made him want to provoke her even more.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I told you I missed you, wanted to see your pretty face.”

“You’re insufferable,” she shook her head and rolled her eyes at him, “go home, Theo.”

“I thought you hated me driving drunk?”

“You seem perfectly fine now, piss off.”

He attempted to wrap his arms around her slowly, testing the waters. This time she didn’t try to push him off, making him smirk and more confidently pulled her closer to him.

“Didn’t you miss me?” he pouted playfully “I missed you so much, I almost died.”

“Wish you would,” she narrowed her eyes as him, making him chuckle.

“C’mon, baby. Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

She decided it was useless to try and drive him away, and deep down, she knew she didn’t want to anyway. So, with a resigned tut, she exhaled and motioned for him to follow her into the apartment. Luckily for her, he refrained from touching her at all on the way up to her door. But this was short-lived, because as soon as she shut the door, he was on her again. He snaked his arms around her waist and hooked his chin on her shoulder, trapping her against the door.

“What do you think you’re doing, Theo?”

“I told you, that’s not my name.”

“And I told you, don’t show yourself to me unless you’re ready for a relationship.”

“I promise, we’ll talk more about that later,” he pressed himself closer to her, “I think there are more.. pressing matters at this moment.” He trailed off, pressing his lips on her neck gently, waiting for her to react. When she didn’t, he decided to ask for her consent.

“We can stop here, baby,” he started to loosen his arms around her and distanced his face from the crevice of her neck. Fully expecting her to pull away, she turned around and grabbed the back of his head to drag him into a kiss. Shocked, his eyes widened; but before he could get carried away, he broke away and waited for her to open her eyes.

“I need you to tell me you want this, too.” She ignored him and tried to lean in for another kiss, but his hands were firm on her waist, preventing her from advancing any further. She rolled her eyes again and tried to pull him back.

“Theo, just fucking kiss me.”

“Not until you use your words.”

“Theo, I need you to fuck me right now or I’m kicking you out.” At that, he smirked and met her lips with a grip on the back of her neck.

The two lay in the darkness of her room, the only light coming from a small moon lamp on her desk. He shifted her to pull her back flush against his chest, his arms around her waist and his hand entwined with hers on her chest. No one was speaking, no one daring to break the silence made heavy by the elephant in the room. Theo knew that at one point, he was going to have to talk. He was well aware of the fact that he would have to admit to himself, and to her, the unspoken fact that there was a glaring reason why he couldn’t just stay away long enough to let her move on from him. Eventually, he started trailing kisses on her shoulders to rouse her from her silence.

“Are you finally going to talk?” she asked, resignation evident in her voice, and something tells Theo that if he fucks up this time, it’ll be the last. He hummed in affirmation and kept his grip tight on her, afraid that she’d run away. Afraid that she’d look at him and see right through him.

“Talk.”

“It’s not you-“

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Theo.” He laughed, teasing even in the worst times.

“I know, I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t let you go, okay?”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said, earning him a slap on the arm.

“Okay okay, shit. I’ve just never done this before; I’ve never felt so drawn to someone like this before. I always want, no, need you around me. I don’t know what the fuck you did to me, but no one could ever do it for me anymore after you.”

“I’ve tried meeting other people; I thought I could get over you. But here we are,”

“Here you are.”

“Yeah, here I am, again. I don’t know, I’m rambling. What I’m trying to say is I have feelings for you I can’t explain, and it makes me want to do things for you, risk things for you that I never have before.”

“Theo, just tell me you love me and go,” she tried to turn and look at his face, but his hold on her remained tight. She felt him hide his face on her shoulder, his hand in hers shaking. He was scared, but she was too. They’ve hurt each other throughout the months they’ve been fooling around, there were issues to talk about and unpack. But at this moment, that didn’t matter, because all she wanted to know was if he was as willing as she was to go through that with her. She didn’t want to risk it all, just for him to run again.

“Would you love me through my bullshit?” he whispered, ever crass with his words.

“Theo, if it isn’t obvious with me giving you chance after chance,” she began, using his words from earlier, “I already do.”

He let out a heavy sigh, shutting his eyes tight, as if bracing himself for an impact that will never come. Theo will never understand why she was so willing to keep letting him into her life. And he will never understand why it was so hard for him, but she makes him want to do it anyway. So, for the first time in his immortal life, he says,

“I love you. Let’s do this thing.”

“Took you long enough, and you won’t even fucking ask me to be your girlfriend outright?” she scoffed, turning around to finally look at him, seeing his eyes closed like a child.

“Look at me, Theo,” she put her palm against his cheek, willing him to open his eyes. One eye after the other, he gazed into her eyes.

“This better be fucking for real this time.”

“It is, I promise. Be my girlfriend, I’ll do anything you want,” he nodded profusely, recognizing his last chance.

“You’re a bad habit, you know that?”

“Thank god you’re not getting rid of me then.” She breathed out a laugh, burying her face in his neck. Theo smiled into her hair, placing a hand on the back of her head, and thanking his lucky stars that he got it right this time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

hi again hhh 2 drops in a week? is this really me???? jk but this is long overdue if i'm being honest. this is for my friend who just defended her research paper and celebrated her birthday, too. hope u like it! also this is my first time having like,,,mature themes so i hope it's not too bad!!!

also !! not beta read nor proofread hehe wrote this to habit by svt, love that song

#minghao #the8 #the8 fluff #the8 angst #the8 smut #svt fluff #svt #svt smut #svt angst #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #xu minghao #xu minghao fluff #xu minghao smut #xu minghao angst

[battorlstuff]

Story - Fall of the Jock Pt.3

"My Gym Piggy is Growing"

The second video arrived the next day and the screen made it clear that this was the third week Jace had spent in that place.

It was clear that Jace's routine, or rather punishment, had continued. His body was no longer as tight and fit as before. Instead, Jace looked different, his muscles looked deteriorated, the young and once an adonis seemed weaker, he didn't even speak when the man entered the room and patted his stomach.

Jace's abs were no longer as defined, but with each Jace's heavy breath they disappeared. The man came in with a huge chocolate cake the size of the table he was carrying it on, the chocolate seemed to be melting and spilling all over the tray and then some messages appeared on the screen.

"I like to keep the temperature high, I even turn on the heating, as you know everything I feed our boy is soaked in a substance that makes him horny, I think the heat helps improve the effect, plus look at him all sweaty, Isn't that how gym rats like Jace like to be?

This heat also helps keep him weaker, we don't want Jace to be rude right? It's been 4 days since he doesn't fight back or try to resist, perhaps he has learned his place."

The lights turn on and Jace seems to react, he closes his eyes and suddenly the man slaps his no longer so defined face a few times.

"HeyJace! We're celebrating your 20th day here and the soon disappearance of those damn abs" the man laughed and looked at Jace's stomach, the lines of his muscles were barely visible, the guy's smile grew bigger as he tried to the sweaty one Jace's skin and saw how the boy wanted to move away from his cold touch, so he left his left palm there feeling the breath of his prey who used to be so arrogant and now looked scared, a step back and a little momentum ends in a fist that sank deep into the boy's abdomen, Jace only moaned and spit out saliva, feeling as if the man's fist burst his insides and darted his body from his navel to his lower back.

With that he placed the cake on the floor and turned to Jace who was hunched over, still breathless and in pain.

"This fatty is now stronger than you, huh?" He taunted his captor by pulling his hair to raise his head and look at him, a confused face and an open mouth as saliva continued to come out was all he saw.

He looked at his body past his now soft stomach, his arms were bigger but lacking definition, they looked swollen and a little greasy, his triceps were definitely gone although he could still see Jace's biceps, his once toned and slim feet. . They were a little fat, his thighs undoubtedly took the worst part, it was as if the fat were stagnating in them, they are completely soft, the calves were still there, barely. On his neck and jaw a small double chin was beginning to grow, it was as if his beautiful body was being covered under a thin layer of fat and was beginning to swell.

"This has only just begun and you don't look so good anymore" that was true Jace seemed exhausted and weak, the bags under his eyes were noticeable and his muscles were fading with each calorie that the man has made him swallow, his pecs were already not so good. strong nor pronounced like the first day he arrived, instead they seemed to swell and droop a little and his sharp face looked softer and rounder.

He lifted him out of the chair, but his ankles and wrists were still tied, he dragged him and threw him straight into the huge cake. Jace's chest and face sank into the chocolate coating, the man stood behind him and put his foot on Jace's back so he would stay there.

"You know what to do or else" he took out a teaser from his pocket and made it buzz, the simple sound sent shivers down the jock's spine, Jace just obeyed.

His face, neck, pectorals and his stomach were covered in chocolate, his mouth and face completely covered in crumbs and frosting.

Jace ate, burying his face in the bread and chocolate, it was like watching a pig wallowing in the mud. The man pressed his foot a little more on Jace's back while he laughed, the weight made the boy sink into the cake and almost choke, he raised his head again and continued eating, the man was hard watching the scene.

A message appeared on the screen:

"The cake was full of the drug, if you see..." a zoom was made to Jace's crotch "Our fattening pig is getting hard, although not harder than me. Look, his penis is already erect and leaking chocolate, maybe I should help him clean himself, but first he must finish eating."

Jace's stomach swelled more and he was holding a quarter of the big cake, his belly button popped out and Jace let out a big belch while his penis became completely hard, playfully kicking his balls of Jace and the little pig, afraid of punishment, continued eating.

From there the man and the camera had a good view of Jace's already flaccid butt, of all the parts of his body his hard buttocks seemed to be the ones that were ruined the fastest, turning into a gelatinous and shapeless mass, all that was needed was to expand that greasy mass now.

Jace swallowed, crawling over the large tray full of the remains of the cake, while he took bites here and there hoping that it would soon be finished.

His abdomen hurt and was swollen, he was barely a little more than a quarter of the cake when he stopped for the first time, he waited for the teaser to download, instead he received a strong kick in his groin, with his member erect it was even more painful. The first kick to his crotch was so hard that he lifted him off the ground for a few moments. A second kick to his balls made him howl in pain, a third colliding with his full stomach, eliciting grunts and belches from Jace.

When the man lifted his foot again Jace rushed to take a bite, but that didn't save him, the heavy boot collided with his left cheek and the pain almost made him choke.

The man let him continue, but raised the temperature a little, enjoying seeing the arrogant gallant in these conditions. Jace was crawling on the cake soaked in sweat and chocolate, panting from the sudden heat and how much he had eaten, burping constantly, and still hard and horny as hell.

More than half of the cake was gone and Jace stopped again, without strength he simply collapsed on the cake and waited for the blow, but this time the man pulled his jacket, fitting his nails into his balls, it was horrible, he squeezed his balls without stop and when he saw that Jace was still not eating he began to kick after kick in his crotch.

After more than ten kicks and recoiling in pain, Jace moved a little and buried his head in the rest of the cake taking small bites only for the man to stop.

Soon his torso was covered in a layer of sweat and chocolate frosting, his breathing heavy as he struggled to take another bite.

Fed up with Jace's small bites, the man simply picked up Jace's body and threw it on top of the rest of the cake. Jace rolled over and was covered in chocolate. The man bent down and took a piece of the cake that was lying on the cake with his hands. Jace's stomach and shoved it into the boy's mouth. So he continued to "clean" Jace's body and feed him, running a finger across his navel, lowering his hand to his hip and finally sliding his finger across Jace's hard penis until he reached the top. tip.

He massaged a little and cleaned the chocolate from the tip of his penis, smearing it with frosting and precum, taking it to Jace's mouth and making him lick it, before giving him a strong slap on his stomach or rather belly, his abs were not visible and his stomach came out to the delight of his captor. Who ran his tongue all over his penis along it and making the stud moan.

Jace squirmed, hating that this guy was turning him on, but he couldn't hold back all those moans in his throat. The man took several bites of the cake himself and shoved a few more pieces into Jace's mouth, forcing him to eat. The man wouldn't release Jace's burden, not yet. He continued to massage and remove the remains of the cake from Jace's body, licked his nipples, tasted the chocolate all over his torso, and ran his tongue over every corner of his flaccid ass and long legs until Jace was moderately clean, although he left his " chocolatey" cock for later.

"Very good, but the cake wasn't everything," said the man, seeing the stallion stunned on the ground, with his back against the tray where the cake was.

He dragged a hose and attached it to a funnel, Jace is still lying on the ground trying to breathe when the man inserted the funnel into his mouth and turned on the faucet of a tank. The hose twisted and a slightly liquid pudding reached Jace's mouth. Jace's eyes became watery, because he felt like his stomach was going to burst, the flow ran down his throat and went down heavily to his belly, bulging and creating such a swelling that Jace couldn't stand, it moved from one side to the other but the flow It didn't stop.

Jace couldn't take it anymore, he wanted to vomit, but as soon as he finished that tank the man connected the hose to a smaller gallon, the special supplement for Jace. The flow began to come and Jace simply writhed on the floor sweating profusely as the shoulder caressed his body, brought his fingers to his penis and began to massage it playfully.

Soon Jace was beyond hard and agitated as the man jerked him off, he struggled, but he couldn't help but moan even with the milkshake entering his mouth. The man slowed down and Jace twisted his hips, then he stopped, and licked the chocolate off his finger while he watched the panting boy, he tasted and licked each finger and then he bent down, put Jace's penis in his mouth and began to work, going too slowly, unfortunately for Jace who wanted it all to end.

The man took a bite and Jace took a big gulp, almost choking on the liquid. When he felt Jace was ready, the man stopped again and Jace seemed more frustrated, the liquid was still making his cock throb and he felt like his stomach was being burst from the inside. So the man took a somewhat rough dildo and slid it between Jace's buttocks and turned it on. Jace was completely overwhelmed by the sensations. He even felt that his nipples were burning and the tip of his penis was throbbing. He grunted in pain and choked. .

The man had put a needle in each of his nipples and was now burying another one, a little longer and spiked, in the tip of his penis. The man gave him a smile, their gazes met, Jace's frightened eyes closed. and with a malicious laugh his captor pushed the needle until it was almost completely buried.

"Alright, let's keep playing" with one hand he took turns massaging the needles on his nipples, and with the other He masturbated him, the flow of the hose did not stop and the dildo was still on. The man massaged Jace's member very slowly, watching as the spikes of the needle pressed from the inside to the skin of the penis, causing horrible agony in Jace. A few more movements and the hose stopped but he came in buckets writhing and clenching his fists and toes.

It was horrible, the needle did not allow him to release completely and little by little and painfully the same flow of semen was pushing the needle out, which took almost five minutes to happen, being extremely painful as if his member was being torn from the inside and every time he He came and the semen pushed the spikes tore the skin, finally the needle was out.

Jace lay there weakly looking at the man who took the dildo from him and carried it back to the chair. Jace just collapsed in the chair on the verge of unconsciousness, his penis still dripping with semen and his mouth still with traces of saliva, the man patted his cheek and twisted the guides on Jace's nipples a little, he smiled Hearing him moan in pain and then he tore them off so abruptly that he left small holes, the light went off and the video ended with the sound of the man's footsteps and the door closing.

The description said: My little pig is doing well, maybe I've been very good to him, if you're wondering, Jace weighed 197 lbs at that time, the poor guy still didn't know that he would end up weighing almost 900 lbs, but leave that to me, "I'll show you how Jace got there."

Fall of the Jock Pt. 2

#male weight gain fantasy #gaining fiction #weight gain story #ex jock #fit to fat #exjock #gaining weight #you got fat #you getting fat #Fall of the Jock

[slasherscream]

just a small blurb but i can’t stop thinking about -

                   BILLY LOOMIS FT. A HILARIOUS READER

they don’t know how to act! no brain to mouth filter whatsoever. it’s the wild, wild west whenever they decide to move their lips.

imagine that reader with mister. stick up his ass billy loomis. can you GET what i’m laying down here?? the age old riddle of unstoppable force meets immovable object. whomst will win?

you may you run within the same general circle as billy and stu but you aren’t close to them or anything. you’re just so funny that everyone loves having you around. you could sit at any table during lunch and be greeted with smiles and eye-rolls, everyone already trying to guess what you’ll come up with next. 

it’s easy to not get caught always watching you when almost everyone is doing the same thing. you draw the eyes of anyone who’s talked to you, even if just for a little while. your personality nothing short of infectious. 

it drives billy a little crazy, actually. how you tell a little joke and he wants to look up and see the way the punchline shaped your mouth. how he hears your laugh in a crowd and has to stop himself from trying to find you so he can watch you be so caught up in being happy- 

at one point he’d thought he wanted to kill you. he’d never focused on another person so much without wanting them dead, frankly. 

but when he and stu were picking their next victim he bit down on his tongue to stop himself from saying your name. if he said it he’d follow through on it just to prove a point. so he didn’t say your name, and he admitted to himself that maybe he liked you a little. maybe even more than liked you. 

he still can’t bring himself to do anything more than stand a little closer to you at a party, or catch your eye and not be the first one to look away. 

stu is no idiot though and he’s billy’s guardian angel of “bro you’re capable of human emotions”. it just takes one time of billy slipping up while you’re around. you make a dumb joke, not even one of your hilarious ones and billy scoffs quietly       but not the way he usually does when stu tells a joke that doesn’t land. it was soft and there was the hint of a smile as he turned away from watching you. a real smile, too.

now that stu is involved all bets are off. he loves to see bullshit play out!!! even more than that?? he wants to see his best friend HUMBLED by the human condition of pining and having to regularly interact with the Person You Are Pining For™. 

so he “casually” tells you he’s never seen billy really laugh ( a lie. he’s seen everything billy has to offer, for better or worse ).

now billy has the full force of your comedic talent focused on him at all times!! because that’s so sad!! not even his best friend has seen him laugh? the person who he spends every minute with?? this is an emergency!!!

( stu thinks it’s kind of cute how easily you believed him. he thinks it’s cuter that you’ve decided it’s your life’s mission just to make billy laugh. some days you look like you found a hundred dollars laying in the street just because you get a smile out of him. he’s been the only one caring for billy for so long it guts him to see someone else finally do the same thing. and lord knows billy doesn’t make it easy- )

everyone needs a laugh!!! you are the laugh doctor! please hold still for this exam billy you are obviously sick and in need of healing. 

suddenly billy has two shadows instead of one. one of his shadows follows him around like an overeager puppy ( and it’s overwhelming - after so long of watching you from afar - to suddenly have every ounce of your attention. it’s like walking through a blizzard for miles, never wanting anything more than to be back in your warm house. then you get there and open the door and you’re home but the warm air hits your face and it hurts. that’s what it’s like when you hang off his arm rambling like you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but with him even on the most mundane days. ) and the other shadow is looking oddly smug recently. 

this all goes on for so long that you’re starting to get discouraged even as you also, incidentally, start bonding with him because of the sheer amount of time you spend following this man around for No Good Reason (according to him). 

the boiling point of it all? the anniversary of his mother leaving.

you know his mother is gone, of course. and you might even know the reason why (it’s a small town and people will always talk) but you didn’t know the date. you don’t have it etched into your memory the way it’s been burned into billy’s. 

stu has been walking on eggshells for weeks but you’ve ignored billy’s prickly mood, thinking he’s just getting into one of his funks.

in fact you doubled down on giving him attention. on teasing him. touching him. talking to him. staring at him. him. him. him. him. him - 

as if you don’t have anything better to do or anywhere else to be. 

the closer it gets to the day his mother up and left him without so much as a goodbye the more your constant presence starts to make him feel sick. you seem to be none the wiser as with each passing day the way his eyes settle on you gets more and more unhinged. 

( stu is nearby, painfully unable to help either one of you. a helpless onlooker that’s praying billy doesn’t go over the edge and kill you, or worse - push you away. )

and you’re doing it because you care so much it hurts but billy is insecure, at his very core, and he loves you and maybe he’s loved you for so long it’s pathetic. and some part of him can’t believe that you actually care about him. that this is anything more than a game to you when every little fucking thing you do means everything to him. 

it comes to a head when you invite yourself over the night of the anniversary. billy had seemed off the day before and you wanted to make sure he was okay or make him feel better if he wasn’t. 

( the funny thing about being so caught up in how you feel about someone is that it’s easy to miss the way they feel about you. because you love billy. you love him when he’s ranting about the complexities of the horror genre. you love him when he’s moody. you love him when he’s happy but thinks it’s not cool to show it. you love him when the sky is black as night or when it’s the brightest blue it can be. billy’s obsessed with the way you fill up a room just by being you but you can’t get over the way he invades every part of who you are. you can’t remember who you were before you first looked into those eyes of his, overflowing with intensity, and thought ‘ game on, tough guy ‘ )

he opens the door, already having half a mind to kill the person who has the nerve to bother him today of all fucking days - and there you are.

                                  and he snaps.

he snaps and he says every hurtful thing he can think of to say. because he wants to see how far you can take your stupid act. because he wants you to walk away so he can have a reason to kill you and get it over with. because he can’t love anyone again just so they can leave. 

when he runs out of words to say the rage subsides and he sees you. he sees you the way he’s never seen you before. on the verge of tears. and now he wonders if the one thing worse than you leaving him is you leaving him because he hurt you. 

but you push your way into his house, close the door and tell him that he’s a fucking asshole and that you’d beat the shit out of him if you didn’t love him so much. 

he finally laughs. it’s a shock to the system. it’s explosive and messy, the way billy is whenever he lets himself feel anything. you don’t have time to commit it to memory before it turns bitter and verges on hysterical. 

you’ll both always remember the way you rushed to wrap him into your arms and hold him close. the first moment when all the walls came crashing down. and even though you shouldn’t be, you were there waiting for him, ready to hold him together when he couldn’t do it for himself anymore. 

you talk all through the night and you don’t laugh but you smile at each other, and even though the smiles are a little sad they mean so much. maybe all this time you were hoping that if you could just make him happy enough then he’d always be yours in a way that no one else could ever have him. it was so fitting of him - with his contrary personality - to decide to share the ache inside of him instead. 

but you know this is so much more permanent and meaningful than his sweetest smile, or his brightest laugh. when he finally falls asleep in your arms, defenseless and vulnerable in so many ways, you feel like you could cry as the full weight of his trust sinks in. 

you can share happiness with anyone. but sadness?? the kind that’s seeped into every part of you? the kind that feels like a rot in your bones? that burns at the back of your throat? that’s special. 

and you do get to see him laugh the way you’ve always wanted to. 

you wake up late the next day and he’s, dare you say it, almost shy when he first looks up at you, already trying to move away from the warmth and comfort you’re so readily willing to give him. and it’s so endearing to see billy in the aftermath of all his anger. you did that for him - gave him a different kind of relief that no amount of blood shed could substitute. 

he tries to apologize, in his roundabout way, for either having human emotions in the first place or for burdening you with them. it’s hard to figure out since he’s so terrible at communication. 

you shut him up by kissing him and for once he doesn’t have anything to say. 

you kiss for a long time, the accumulation of months of wanting one another and ignoring it. and then you pull away to catch your breathe. as soon as you found it you tilt your forehead against his and look at him like he’s your whole world and it still makes him feel sick but now it’s in a good way. because now he can have you. 

he thinks you’re going to tell him you love him again and this time he’ll say it back because you need to know. need to know that you’re everything. that nothing matters but you. 

instead you say “it be like that sometimes” and the words hang in the air long enough that you start to regret them. until he starts to laugh. he wraps his arms around you and laughs so hard his shoulders shake. he presses his smile into your cheeks and says he can’t stand you. 

but it sounds so much like an i love you that you don’t even need to hear him say it. 

once he’s done laughing he says it anyway. 

#billy loomis x reader #bet y'all weren't expecting angst in a reader story that's titled ft. hilarious reader :))) #im slowly getting back to writing confidence #covid really ZONKED my creative energy and then i got nervous about being out of practice #but then i realized ..... this is a family.....a family that wants to get brutally (redacted) by fictional murder machines #not to toot my own horn but if i said half the things that i think out loud?? billy would be down on one knee already #both to propose and because he got winded from laughing so hard #his laugh muscles are as weak as his hair is greasy #no editing or proofreading we die like fucking warriors #i either wrote everything down perfectly or god strikes me down for spelling errors

[shorkbrian]

If you are still taking requests, I love me some fucky villian noncon. What about Dabi or Shigaraki kidnapping a hero’s gf/wife and sending the hero a tape of their fun playtime together.

you said Dabi or Shigs but like...

Why not both?

It’ll be a handful (by handful I mean 20-30 files) of short clips, nothing too long.

Shigaraki holding the camera while Dabi makes you sit on his face, stapled hands clamped on your thighs and forcing you to ride his mouth. Dabi thinks it’s cute how whiny and trembly and weak you are, begging to lay down or have a break. If your hands weren’t tied with a cute pink ribbon and fastened to the headboard, you’d be pulling at Dabi’s hair, trying to get his tongue away from your throbbing, puffy little overworked hole.

You can’t hold yourself up! Collapsing forward puts you embarrassingly close to Dabi’s naked cock, but you’re so tired and shaky that it’s impossible to do anything but pant all hot nd wet against Dabi’s stomach. The scarred man mumbles something about how he could cum just like that, with you breathin towards his cock, but all you feel is the movement of lips and the vibration of words and you’re gone.

The sound of Shigaraki fisting his cock is clear over the snickering and derogatory commentary he’s offering, zooming in on the tongue working between your legs as you shake and cry. He sounds so pleased and proud, a cute little hero wife getting soiled and ravaged by two nasty villains. You’ll never be the same, you’re dirty now. 

The next clip is of Shigaraki fucking you, your legs tied to a spreader bar. Greasy white hair swings back and forth over your face as the man grunts, fucking into you with quick fast strokes. He has to keep pulling out to work his cock through your folds to stop himself from cumming too soon. Plus, it’s fun to hear you squeak when the tip of his cock nudges against your clit.

They won’t give you the mercy of a gag to help you retain your dignity. No, all of your noises are heard, from when they’re hesitant to when they’re completely fucked out, sounding like you’re starring in a cheesy porn.

The videos that follow focus heavily on your body. 

Specifically, what your body looks likes with cum all over it.

How engorged and red your clit looks, cum seeping from your pussy and trickling down to your ass. Shigaraki holds your legs apart while Dabi uses one hand to spread your folds, the other hand working the camera. They want to show off how messy you get.

With cum all over your face, instructed to open your mouth and stick out your tongue, creamy, translucent threads webbing in your hair and across your cheeks, striping your nose and dripping off your eyelashes. 

Shigaraki likes rubbing all the cum into your skin, shooting his load onto your belly or your tits just so Dabi can film him massaging it until you’re sticky and gross all over. You complain and beg and reason, try to understand why they're doing this, but neither man cares about the words coming out of your mouth. It gets annoying after a while, so a couple of the clips show you getting your throat stuffed full of dick before the go back to Shigaraki gleefully putting his grimy little hands all over your body.

A lot of the clips are utterly humiliating, the boys forcing you into compromising positions.

Having you lay down on the bed and hold a wand to your own pussy with one hand while using the other to jack off Dabi’s cock into your open mouth. If the wand drops away, Dabi skull-fucks you, drool everywhere, lots of choking, pain, and tears. You make sure the wand stays firmly whirring against your skin, even after it hurts because you can’t stop gushing around it and your muscles are tired.

They fuck you up against windows, one of them filming your body getting rocked back and forth against the glass, tits squished, legs shaking as you get pounded to tears.

You get dressed in cutesy lingerie, but they’ve modified it, cut holes for your nipples and a little slit in your panties so they can slide their cock right up into your cunt like that's what you were made for.

But other times, you’re forced into a tight pair of stockings, forced to face the camera and clench your legs together so Dabi can fuck between your thighs, let the seam of your stockings rub against the top of his dick and subsequently, your cunt. Listen to you whimper and complain that you don’t want to do this until Dabi presses his cock to your hole through the stockings, seeing how far he can push the sheer fabric before it breaks and snaps against your cunt.

The last clip is the longest, more than two hours of footage.

It starts out in a dim room, shows you already stripped naked and on a bed with Shigaraki. You’re begging him, sitting on your heels in front of him as he holds your hands. You aren’t trying to pull your hands away, not towards yourself, but you’re trying to pull them towards his cock, and Shigaraki won’t let you.

It’s unclear whether they’ve drugged you or not.

The camera adjusts a bit, and then Dabi’s walking into the frame and towards the both of you. Immediately, your attention turns to him and his nudity, almost tripping over yourself as you tear away from Shigaraki to meet Dabi at the edge of the bed.

You’re almost crying, a hand dipping between your legs for you to hump against as you tearfully ask Dabi if you can ride him. If he’ll let you use his big cock so you can fuck yourself real good, until you feel all tingly and nice and fuzzy. Shigaraki’s being so mean, not letting you touch him!

Dabi laughs, catches your face in his hands and plan ts a kiss on your nose before saying yes. He barely gets himself situated on the bed before you’re pouncing on him, spreading your legs like a little breeding whore and sinking down on him with the sweetest look of ecstasy on your face - mouth open, eyes half rolled back into your head, cheeks flushed.

Shigaraki sits up so he can lean over and shove his hand up against where you’re fucking yourself on Dabi’s cock. The camera doesn’t really pick it up, but it’s clear by the way you jump and squeal and giggle that Shigaraki is doing something you like, moving his hand back and forth.

They start laying out the rest of their plans for the day, how it involves lazing around in bed and letting you fuck yourself dumb. Dabi even has Viagra in case you grow too insatiable.

At some point, they talk about how they're both going to fuck your pretty little cunt, and you cum right then and there, moaning high and girlish as your body looses itself.

It’s only four minutes into the video.

#tw.noncon #yandere #tw.noncon filming #tw.exhibitionism #dabi #shigaraki #Dabi smut #shigaraki smut #BNHA smut #Yandere smut #I'm tired goodnight

[hotcoffeetransformation]

Jason swore loudly and had to resist the urge to throw his controller down, pissed that he kept dying cause of the game's stupid glitches (Also known as own mistakes). Still, he regained his composure, and smiled before saying

"Alright chat, we're gonna finish up this one and then we're gonna move on to another game. There should be a poll on top for what we do next"

Jason was a moderately successfully game streamer, averaging about 200 to 300 viewers a night, entirely based on his wit and skill. He knew for sure that they weren't coming for his looks, given his weedy, thin frame, overly pimpled face and large, nerdy glasses. Still, it was enough for him, and he was happy with the progress that he'd made.

As Jason got himself set up for the next game, he heard a shocking sound from above him. The victory theme from one of his favorite JRPGs was blaring through the speakers, and he came up, staring at the screen in shock. He knew what that sound meant. That meant someone had tipped him one thousand dollars, completely out of nowhere.

He looked in shock at the notification on the stream, seeing that it was from someone named JockBro69, with the simple message "Can't wait to get to know you better, cutie~"

Jason was completely stunned. Not only had someone actually redeemed the donation goal that he set as a joke (That being that whoever was stupid enough to tip 1000 dollars got to have a 15 minute private chat with him), it was also someone that he'd never seen in his chat before.

Thoroughly weirded out, but knowing that he had to honor his commitment, he sent the guy a quick private message.

"Dude, I don't know how to thank you enough! Guess I'll see ya pretty soon!"

With that, he sent the man his private zoom link, and said goodbye to the chat, who were still going wild over this turn of events, before pausing,the stream and hopping over to discord for the call.

Not two seconds after his stream stopped, he got a requested video call on discord from the guy, and he opened it up, giving a second for the video to load, but when it did, he was completely dumbfounded again. He was expecting the mysterious donator to be some fat, sweaty silicon valley nerd with too much and money on his hands, but instead what met him was possibly the hottest man he's ever seen, standing up and looking down at his webcam with a friendly expression.

"Fuck, bro! Its so good to finally fucking meet you, I've been such a big fan for a long time, and this is a really big deal for me~

The man had a deep, rumbling, pleasant voice, that shot straight down Jacob's spine and left him feeling strangely... inadequate. Like the fact that his voice wasn't as smooth or melodic as this guy's was his fault, and he should be ashamed of that fact. Still, this guy was pretty pleasant to look at, Jason had to admit. He wasn't gay, definitely not, but he could acknowledge when another guy simply looked good.

Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not entirely sure of what he should do or say. Still, this guy spent 1000 dollars on this meeting, so he had to try anyway.

"So, umm.... I see your username is jockbro69... What's your actual name thought? I don't think I've ever seen you in chat before..."

The other man actually laughed at this, before looking confused and saying

"What are you talking about bro? Its me, Ethan! I'm in your chat all the time! Man, I guess what they say about playing games so much is true, huh?"

At this statement, Jason actually went pale with shock. THIS was Ethan? This was the guy who's username used to be runningLink? Who was an active fan of the zelda series, constantly begged Jason to play them, and bemoaned the fact that no would date him? It just didn't seem right...

Still, Jason, ever the semi professional, continued on, pretending that he wasn't shocked at the news.

"Well, thanks for supporting me so much! Seriously, this means a lot to me... Ummm... so I guess tell me some of your favorite things about the channel then!"

The man laughed again, the sound coming out in a slow, dumb chuckle, before saying

"What's my favorite thing? Do I even have to say, bro? Its the amazing piece of eye candy I'm looking at right now. You're super hot, bro~"

At this, Jason was shocked, but he chuckled awkwardly while blushing, and said

"Really? I don't think I've ever heard a single person say that before. I guess I consider myself slightly below average..."

The guy looked confused at that, before pressing on

"Really, bro? You look super hot to me, you got those bright, blinding blue eyes that you can just get lost in~"

At this point, Jason knew the man was just messing with him. His eyes have always, and will always be a dark, muddy brown, hidden behind his massive frames. Jason was about to respond, when Ethan continued

"Yeah, and you got that super stylish haircut too, really makes you look super masculine~"

Now Jason was REALLY confused. The guy was right, he did always get complements on his eyes, the bright, shocking blue visible and striking even through his huge glasses. But his hair was always a long, unkempt greasy mess.

"Ethan, are you sure you're okay, you're not just seeing things? Cause I don't know what you're talking about"

Ethan ignored the comment, just continuing to press on

"And you've got that hot, manly face, with your strong jaw and amazing profile"

Jason was confused again. Sure, his stylish haircut did help him look much better, but his face had always been pretty androgynous, with hints of baby fat still present in his cheeks. Again, before he could interrupt, Ethan continued,

"And you've got that smooth smooth skin, that hot stubble, that sexy smirk of yours. You're the full package bro~"

Jason laughed at this. Ethan was clearly being way too complementary. Sure his face had a great shape to it, with strong cheekbones and a square jaw, but his skin was still acne marked as hell, his smile was crooked and awkward, and he'd never been able to grow any facial hair, no matter how much he tried.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about Ethan. Sure I've got some good features, but the overall package isn't much to write home about~"

Ethan smirked again, his eyes lighting up with humor, as if he knew something I didn't.

"Nah, bro, you're underselling yourself. Plus, you've got that body~"

"What about my body? I think its pretty average, though I guess I'm a bit on the skinny side..."

Jason looked down at himself, trying to contemplate what Ethan meant. Sure, he'd been blessed with an attractive, manly face, but it didn't change the fact that his body was still below average at best.

"Again, bro! Putting yourself down. You really think those massive logs you have for arms are below average?"

Jason looked down at his skinny arms, and said

"More like logs than twigs man, seriously."

"And what about your legs? You've spent so long working on em, you've got thighs and glutes to kill for~"

Jason laughed again

"I dunno man! Most people say the exact opposite. They say I spend too much time on arms and not enough on my torso and legs. What can I say though? I love having big, beefy arms."

"Of course you do, bro? Who wouldn't? Especially when right in between em, you got your big, pillowy chest, your sexy abs, and your super toned back~"

Jason was seriously starting to wonder if Ethan was on something. Anyone could clearly see from first glance that Jason's body was badly proportioned, his arms and legs being massive from months to years of work, while he neglected his back, pecs and ab muscles. Still, he thought he looked pretty alright honestly.

"And I especially love how you're not only super sexy, you know it and flaunt it~ I don't think I've ever seen you once wear a shirt. The most you'll wear is a necklace, and even then, not like that covers anything, bro~ Only makes you look sexier"

Now here Jason had to disagree. He knew that he had cultivated and developed an amazing body over his years of going to the gym, but that was all for his own personal satisfaction. He never flaunted it unnecessarily, especially not during a stream.

"And I love the fact that you're such a fucking bro, bro. Every other word out of your mouth is bro and dude, you can't go even five minutes without flexing and thinking of fucking, or going to the gym, or hanging out with your other hot bros. We all know that your brain is basically only good for working out and looking hot. No smart's up there. And you've got your deep, sexy voice, too. Makes it even hotter that you're a gay bro, just like me"

Jason HAD to laugh at that. What the guy was saying was just so ridiculous.

"What the hell are you talking about? Look, I know that I like to show off my sexy body a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of dumb jock. And I'm definitely straight, dude. Don't know why you'd think I'm gay"

Ethan pressed on, completely unabashed by Jason's last comments.

"But you know the best fucking part, bro? Its that power of yours. The fact that any weak ass nerd who looks at you and your huge fucking muscles grows into a hot, dumb bro like us within seconds~"

Jason was busy flexing, staring at his own bicep in awe, as if he was shocked by him impressive he was. He looked up at Ethan blearily, saying

"Sorry, bro, what'd you say? I guess I got a bit fucking distracted. Huhuhu. But who could blame me~"

"Nah, it was nothing bro. You don't need to worry about it. Now should head back to the stream?"

Jason gasped in excitement, having forgotten entirely about the fact that there was a whole stream audience full of lame ass nerds, just ready for him to make as sexy as he and Ethan were.

"You got it bro~ This is gonna be so fucking hot~"

Jason left the call, going back to the stream and restarting, glad to see that a full 300 people were still watching, even through the extended break. The second he turned his camera on, he could see that people were confused for some reason, saying a stranger broke into his house. How stupid could these people be? How did they not recognize him? Still, not like it would matter for long...

"Hey bros! How're we all fucking doing? Welcomes to today's stream..."

He trailed off, looking blankly at the camera, before saying

"You know what? Fuck video games! Who needs them when you can do this~"

And as his pecs bounced and bounced hypnotically, the chat slowly transitioned from messages like "What the fuck is happening?" or "Who is this dumb jock?" to "Fuck, bro! Your pecs look so fucking hot today!" and "Huhuhu, I love making my pecs bounce like Jace's~"

And so the stream continued, Jace showing everyone all the amazing things his body could do, while anyone that was watching, whether they wanted to or not, began to copy him exactly. And as the stream went on, the viewer count rose, and rose, and rose...

#musclegrowth #straight to gay #jockification #himbo tf #jock #muscle

[trope-appreciation-tuesdays]

(Highly topical excerpt from my Guardian/ Zhen Hun fic, narrated by Shen Wei. Yunlan rescued him from Ye Zun's torture but nothing feels quite right...)

.....................................................

Slowly, slowly, I eased into the little comforts. The tea fogged up my glasses when I bent for a sip. The blanket and cushions were impossibly soft after my eternity of iron and pain. The apartment quickly filled with the tantalizing aroma of baking dough.

Yunlan plopped down next to me with another blanket. He wrapped it around both of us, drawing me close to his body heat. "You're shivering," he said, concerned.

Was I? Oh. So I was.

(Darkness. The keening of wind through craggy stone, the crack of Ye Zun's energy-whip, the cries he forced from me with each strike.)

I shrank into Yunlan's embrace, shivering harder.

(The way every muscle of my body screamed for escape when Ye Zun pressed close, hands grasping and caressing, voice murmuring sweetly in my ear.)

Yunlan's arms circled my shoulders, holding me tight. He murmured, "I've got you. It's ok. No one will come for you here. It's just us."

Abruptly I felt suffocated. I pulled away and stood. "Tea." My voice was shaking. I swallowed and smiled weakly and tried again. "I need more tea. Would you like some?"

He knew, somehow, that I needed something to do as much as I needed a soothing beverage. He came into the kitchen and fussed with nothing in particular, simply being near me while I moved through the familiar rituals with leaves and water.

The second pot was ready moments before the pizza. We sat down in our habitual places across from each other to eat. Everything smelled wonderful. I was half-starved. And yet...

And yet there was a lingering taste in my mouth of dust and blood. I tried to cleanse it with tea and greasy Western food. It persisted.

Finally I pushed myself through what could be considered a proper meal. It was a little early for sleep, but I was exhausted.

Yunlan stood with me and came around to clasp me tightly for a brief moment. It didn't feel quite as comforting as I would've expected.

"Welcome home," he said, gently kissing the top of my head. He wrapped one arm under my shoulders and swept my legs with the other, cradling me against his chest and laughing softly. “Let me pamper you just a little more, baby, and carry you to bed.”

(The sudden drag of chains on my wrists and ankles. My back slamming into rock as my limbs were wrenched from my control. Collapsing forward, screaming, into the net of chains that suspended me, and screaming again as the bone-deep chill of them burned into my tortured flesh.)

A shadow loomed over my face. I scrambled to sit up.

It retreated, and as the light shifted the features abruptly became familiar, beloved, and deeply worried. “Shen Wei, ah, Shen Wei. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re safe. You’re here in your own bed, with me.”

I blinked. Yes. This was my apartment. I had lost the part where I went--no, where Yunlan carried me from table to bed, but I was laid on top of the coverlet now, and Yunlan was sitting at my side.

I took a deep breath and felt weak laughter rising improbably through my chest. “I wasn’t down there nearly long enough to go mad.” I pressed a hand over my eyes. “But it was apparently enough to… I’m… not quite myself.”

Yunlan lifted my hand to his lips. “I’m just grateful to have you back. It’ll get better, I promise. You’ll readjust to being where you belong.”

(You belong with me, Ye Zun had said. I was so disappointed when you left.)

I forced myself to draw Yunlan down beside me. I ran my fingers through his hair--shaggy and short and dark, not long and silk-fine and silver. I traced the line of his jaw--strong and stubbled, not delicate and clean.

He watched me, eyes soft with love and worry. He lifted his hand to caress my cheek. “My Xiao Wei,” he murmured.

I stiffened a little. That wasn’t the endearment he usually used. It was--

He moved closer for a kiss. Panic spiked through me. I turned my face so that his lips barely brushed the corner of my mouth before he caught himself and pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I… need some time. Ye Zun…”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Whatever you need, baby. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

We curled up together under the coverlet, me nestled into the curve of his body, his arms protectively encircling me. He was warm and steady, a shield against the nightmares that lurked in the dark.

(There was something about nightmares, something important…)

I drifted off to sleep, secure in his embrace.

.................................................................

Sweet, said the voice in my head. Very sweet.

I came awake in one electric instant. No soft blankets, no pillows.

No Yunlan.

No--

Ye Zun trailed a graceful, unhurried hand through my hair. I made myself meet his gaze and found there a wild possessiveness that was terrifying.

That was fun, his voice wormed through my thoughts. I wonder how many times we can do it before you break?

Very nice! Thank you for sharing this with me!

#you are not alone #romance tw #bed sharing #dreamscapes #hallucinations #psychological torture

[pandoraborn]

im so sorry for the vagueness of this, but please. any kind of ghostbur+sbi angst. please.

Characters: Ghostbur, c!Tommy, c!Techno, c!Phil Word count: 1497 words Content: canon divergence, techno’s execution, post exile, Tommy is sick, Techno is injured, gore, blood, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, mention of death, SBI, sleepybois inc,

-------------

He sees the anvil drop.

He sees Techno crumble, falling to his knees before springing back up. Ghostbur can only stare, as if hypnotized by the gory scene before him, because Techno is very much a skeleton, slowly being stitched back together by some unseen force. Logically, he knows it’s the totem of undying working its magic, but emotionally, Ghostbur knows he’s never going to purge this memory from his brain.

He holds Friend closer to himself as he watches Techno jump away and disappear in the following madness. If he had a heart, it’d be pounding rapidly. If he had lungs, he’d be wheezing and gasping in fear. The ability to cry is also nonexistent, leaving the ghost unable to do anything but stare at the empty cage. Ghostbur stares for a long time.

When he looks up at Phil, trying to find some explanation for what happened, he finds that Phil’s house is empty. Phil must’ve snuck out in the chaos, when Tubbo and the rest of the ‘butcher army’ hadn’t been watching.

Now he’s alone. There’s no one else around, no distant voices to help him come back to reality. Reality is watching a long time friend turn into a skeleton and magically stitch himself back together, before running for his life. Reality is his father being put under house arrest simply for protecting Techno.

Reality is Friend bumping into him, startling him out of his swirling thoughts. Ghostbur puts a smile on his face, taking the lead and tugging Friend inside Phil’s house. The sheep will be safe here for the moment, while Ghostbur thinks of someone to turn to. He needs comfort from someone who can actually speak to him.

Tommy comes to mind.

Part of Ghostbur wonders if he should even talk to Tommy, because he hadn’t seem Tommy since before his party. Would Tommy be angry with him for not showing up? Maybe it’s a risk worth taking, because it’s Tommy, and they love each other. A dim memory surfaces; he remembers Phil mentioning the other day that he’d been in contact with Tommy, and Tommy’s now safe from any sort of harm. Ghostbur wonders if that means Tommy’s at the cabin, so he heads in that direction.

It doesn’t take long for Ghostbur to reach the cabin. He hopes the others are already here and in one piece, but Ghostbur can’t get the image of the execution out of his head. If he had the ability to feel sick, he’d probably be vomiting in the snow.

Techno’s clearly home, because Ghostbur can see the trail of blood leading toward the cabin. Carl, his horse, is also just outside, unharmed.

Before Ghostbur can enter, he hears raised voices. He pauses at the door, leaning closer to hear more clearly, but nothing he’s hearing sounds great.

“Techno, hold still, you’re bleeding everywhere! You’ll also wake Tommy.”

“I’m sorry, I had to rip my arm out of an entire bar, right after being executed! I’m not exactly going to remember my manners for the stupid kid beneath us. He can always sleep later!”

“If you don’t shut up and hold still, I will splash you with a weakness pot and smack you over the head so I can heal you properly. Your bones need to set and you need stitches.”

Ghostbur’s heard enough. He barges in, trying to plaster a smile on his face, but it feels off when he sees the wound on Techno’s arm. It’s not just a deep gash, but a giant hole where muscle and skin should be. There are tears in the pig’s eyes, there’s an expression of anger in Phil’s eyes that render him almost inhuman. If Ghostbur were to actually let himself think about it, he’d admit he was terrified of them both right now.

“Ghostbur,” Phil says curtly. “Go downstairs and check on Tommy.”

“Your arm-”

“I’ll explain it to you later Ghostbur,” Techno grumbles. “Do what Phil says and don’t ask questions.”

“I was there! I saw what happened! Phil, I left Friend in your house.”

“Ghostbur, go downstairs and sit with Tommy. He needs someone more than Techno does.” Phil’s voice has an air of finality to it; Ghostbur doesn’t want to argue with him. Shoulders slumping in disappointment, he disappears down the ladder to check on Tommy.

 Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen the boy since before his beach party. Would Tommy be mad at him for not showing up? Why is Tommy even here, isn’t he supposed to be on holiday? Everything is far too confusing anymore, but even those thoughts are pushed out of his mind when he sees the teen sitting in a bed.

Tommy is far too thin and sickly looking. His skin is too pale, almost colorless, with dirty, greasy hair falling into sunken eyes. Each breath he takes is a painful wheeze, his fingers tremble too much to grip the bowl of food he’s trying to eat.

Tommy’s gaze flicks up briefly when he sees Ghostbur, glancing back down a second later. “Hello.” Even the boy’s voice is rough.

First he watches Techno die, now he has to see his brother sick and malnourished? What kind of holiday had he been on?

“Tommy?” He moves closer, just as afraid of the teen as he was of Techno. Ghostbur already wants to forget today’s events and go back to being ignorant. He’s happier when he doesn’t have to think about anything.

“Surprise, we’re all alive.” Tommy’s tone is unbelievably dark, as if he doesn’t believe it himself. “One minute I’m contemplating everything that went wrong, and the next, Philza’s carrying me here like I suddenly matter. I go to sleep, and wake up to Techno missing half an arm. Dunno what happened there, neither of them will tell me.”

“I watched Techno die,” Ghostbur blurts. He probably shouldn’t have phrased it like that, but the words are out. “He had a totem though, so he survived. It’s a good thing, I think.”

“Ah.” Tommy sets the bowl of food aside, lying back down. Rather than looking colorless now, he’s turning a shade of green. “That’s information I didn’t need while trying to eat.”

“I’m sorry Tommy.”

“Are you okay?” Tommy asks. “Forget about me, I’m in great shape. You, on the other hand, look pretty shaken up.”

“Ah, yeah.” Ghostbur looks away. “Tommy, I forget a lot and I’m not the best, but what happened to Techno isn’t fading. I’m not sure how to process it.”

“You need a hug or something?” Tommy stretches one arm out toward Ghostbur. “Because you look like you could use one.”

“Are you sure you’re not using that as an excuse to get a hug for yourself?” Ghostbur can’t resist the tease. Nor can he resist the offer, letting himself move closer until he’s in Tommy’s arms.

“Fuck you, I don’t need a hug from anyone.” Tommy’s voice is muffled. “I’m independent and can do anything I want to on my own.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Phil’s voice interrupts. “Even on your deathbed, you’re going to give us all a headache.”

Ghostbur’s eyes nearly bug out. “Deathbed?” His gaze whips back toward Tommy to make sure Tommy isn’t actually dying. “Does he need a tot-”

“Ghostbur, relax. Tommy isn’t dying, and I assume you’re here to talk about Techno. He’s not dying either. Everyone here will be fine.” Phil rolls his eyes. “All three of you are the most dramatic shits I have the misfortune of knowing.”

“Fuck you Phil,” Tommy groans. “I can still fight you.”

“If you can get up without fainting, I’d love to take you on,” Phil laughs.

“Is... Techno’s really okay though, right?” Ghostbur asks. “Because-”

“Ghostbur.” Phil sombers up to give the ghost his full attention. “I’m sorry you had to see that earlier. I know it’s not easy, and judging by your reaction, your brain isn’t letting you forget it so easily. Techno’s strong, Tommy’s strong. We’re all going to make it out of this in one piece, alright?”

Ghostbur looks down. “Three of you will. I’m afraid it’s a little late for me, dad.”

No one has a come back to that. Whatever fragile bonds still connect this broken family are still fraying. Ghostbur may be there, they may be able to see and hear and touch him, laugh with him even. At the end of the day though, it’s a harsh reminder that he is not Wilbur, that the Wilbur they’d all loved is still dead, and not even his ghost can replace him.

“Hey Ghostbur?” Tommy tugs on his sleeve. “Will you stay with me for awhile?”

“Yeah.” Ghostbur lies back down, wrapping his arms around the teen. Everything about the boy is too bony, nothing about his appearance is okay. He wonders if Tommy actually is dying.

Nothing more needs to be said though. Broken family or no, at least all four of them are together.

#dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #ghostbur #technoblade #philza #sleepybois inc #sbi fanfiction #angst #whump #gore #blood #mention of death #techno's execution #post-exile #canon divergence #slight canon complience #loosely based off hog hunt #sad-ist #long post #miishae writes #anon

[url-is-under-construction]

𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 ~ 𝐃.𝐇 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Just a little idea that’s been in my head for a while :)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Um? Aliens? Bad language? Bad writing?

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: There was nothing left, no one left. No one but you and the shy little girl you had learnt to love as a daughter. The two of you were surviving, praying to god that the company would rescue you, not realizing that it would only bring more danger, and introduce you to some of the most important people of your life.

You and Newt followed the marines through what remained of the complex, keeping her close to you and flinching at every small sound.

Your footsteps were echoing dangerously loudly through the desolate corridors, and you couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of them knowing exactly where you were, and you were sure that by now they did.

Between the misfires, footsteps and terrible attempts at whispering, you were just a herd of lambs waiting for the slaughter, helpless and afraid.

“This is it.” A voice from the front of the group said as you reached Operations.

Your grip on Newts shoulder tightened as the door slid open with a hiss, and everyone was quickly ushered inside.

“Right.” A man said, smaller and far less intimidating then the others. “I need a medic for the survivors, and I want to speak with them when they’ve been cleared to see if we can find out what happened here. Ripley, you stay with them-” You noticed some of the soldiers rolling their eyes as he spoke, and the man who had helped you up let out a small chuckle. -”The rest of you are going to be with me and Apone.”

The marines lazily followed the man and ‘Apone’ towards the other side of the room, surrounded by computers and screens that probably wouldn’t even be any help.

A woman approached you and Newt with a somewhat sympathetic smile. “Who wants to go first?”

Newt’s eyes widened, scared, and you took a small step forward, silently letting the woman know that you’d be going first.

She gestured towards an empty desk and you were able to push yourself up onto it with a bit of struggle, only now realizing how much muscle you had lost since all of this began.

The woman began a standard medical exam as Ripley stood not too far behind her, placing a supportive hand on Newt’s shoulder as she watched you with wide eyes, observing the way the woman checked your eyes, ears, mouth and heart rate amongst other things.

“You’re physically fine, so there’s nothing to worry about there.” The woman said to you, taking a step back for you to push yourself up off the desk. “Have you got a name?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should trust these people. You knew they had been sent to rescue you, but they also had no idea what they were dealing with, and they had been sent by the company.

Ripley nodded encouragingly at you, and you opened your mouth, struggling to find the words. You and Newt had learnt to communicate either silently or as quietly as possible, and your throat was already aching from shouting earlier.

“Y/n.” You croaked out. “Y/n L/n.”

“Y/n.” Ripley repeated, and you nodded. “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled as the other woman gestured for Newt to come forward. “It’s ok sweetie.” You said when you noticed how hesitant she was. “She just wants to make sure you’re nice and healthy.”

Newt slowly made her way forward, and you felt concern and worry rise in your chest as the marine picked her up and sat her on the desktop you hand just been on. After everything you’d been through together, you thought of Newt as a baby sister, or daughter even, and the only person you truly trusted with her was yourself.

Newt’s medical exam began, and a voice from behind you caused you to jump.

“Update?”

It was the same man from earlier, the one you had seen the marines rolling their eyes and snickering at.

“Hello to you too Gorman.” The medic smiled tightly at him. “The older one, Y/n, seems to be as healthy as she could be given the situation. I still have to check over the child though.”

“Good.” Gorman said, looking over towards you. “Now ma’am, Y/n, if you wouldn’t mind following me, we’ll get you something to eat and drink, and ask you a few questions.”

You looked over to Newt, wanting to stay with her, but the other part of you knew that you didn’t want to discuss all of this with Newt around. She had been exposed to so much, but she was still a child and it was your job to keep her as shielded as possible from it all now, keeping what remained of her innocence intact.

“Go.” Ripley said to you, with kind eyes. “I’ll watch her, make sure she’s safe until you get back.”

Something about the way she said it reassured you, and after a moment of hesitation you nodded.

“Ok.” You looked at Gorman, and he gestured toward the marines, who had all spread out by now and were doing their own tasks. “Follow me.”

The two of you walked through the Operations room, and you felt stares as you followed Gorman to a small group of about three marines who were seated by the door to what looked like a break room.

“Any requests?” He asked, throwing a glance towards the break room.

You felt your mouth begin to salivate. You hadn’t drank anything but dirty water for the past few weeks, and you almost forgot that other beverages existed.

“Coffee?” You asked in a tiny voice, sounding far more broken and defeated than it had when they had found you.

When they had first found you they had seen the hard exterior you had to put on to survive, a woman who would do anything and everything to keep herself and Newt safe, a woman who you wouldn’t even recognize in the mirror. Now they saw the real you; the you that came out when Newt was sleeping and you were crying silently beside her, mourning what your lives had once been.

This you was a broken shell of the past you, merely a weak, exhausted twenty year old woman whose life had been snatched away from her far too early.

“Hicks?” Gorman asked, taking a seat at the desk. “Fancy making the lady a coffee?”

You cast your eyes over to Hicks as he let out a small sigh, and felt your breath hitch in your throat as you realized you had finally put a name to the handsome face who had helped you up.

“No problem.” He said, looking at you instead of Gorman. “C’mon.”

You followed him into the break room, feeling guilty as he pulled out a mug and made his way to the coffee machine.

“Sorry.” You said quietly, surprised if he’d even be able to hear you.

“For what?” His eyebrows furrowed and he turned his head to look at you, seemingly shocked that you were apologizing.

“Well this isn’t exactly your job is it?” You asked, and you winced at your raspy voice. “Making coffee for rescued colonists?”

He let out a small chuckle, in turn causing you to smile, something you hadn’t done in a long, long time.

“No, I can’t say it is. I’d rather be in here with you then out there with Gorman though.” He said, turning on the coffee machine and fiddling around with it.

It was your turn to let out a small laugh.

“Yeah he doesn’t seem to be too popular around here. Can’t imagine why.”

Hicks exhaled sharply through his teeth. “Well if you need help we made a list last night.”

You laughed again, wrapping your arms around yourself. Laughing felt foreign to you after having gone so long without it. There wasn’t much to smile at in this miserable joint, let alone laugh at, and it felt strange to you.

“I don’t even wanna know if that’s true or not.” You shook your head as the two of you waited for the coffee machine to finish.

A comfortable silence fell over the small room, and you found yourself closing your eyes, pretending it was normal for just a few seconds.

“So.” Hicks said, pulling you out of the fantasy and causing your eyes to snap open. “Why, if you don’t mind me asking, were you so afraid?”

You tilted your head, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“When we first found you.” He elaborated. “You know that we’re here to help, right?”

You let out a sigh and ran a hand through your greasy hair.

“Look, no offense Hicks, but you were sent here by the company. I don’t exactly trust the guys up there if you know what I mean.” You said, peering out the door at a civilian looking man wearing a suit, who had obviously been sent by Weyland Yutani. “I think I’d be better off surviving on my own than trusting them.”

He just nodded, taking your words in before the coffee machine beeped, interrupting.

He poured the hot liquid into the mug and handed it to you. A small smile appeared on his face as he watched you gently blow on it and take your first sip of coffee in weeks.

“Beautiful.” You said with your eyes closed, savoring the taste.

He let out a small chuckle, and the two of you headed out of the room, joining Gorman and the others at the desk.

You took an empty seat and placed your coffee on the desk, missing the warmth from your hands.

“Ok Y/n,” Gorman said, jumping straight to the point. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

You let out a shaky breath and jammed your hands into the pockets of your thin jacket.

“Umm, well, I suppose it began when a few colonists were sent out to some coordinates. No one really knows what happened out there, they kept everything confidential, but when they came back...” You trailed off, staring out the window into the wasteland, wondering where the hell that thing had come from.

“Y/n?” Gorman asked.

“Sorry.” You let out an unsure chuckle. “Uh, yeah. They came back with this, this thing wrapped around the face of one of them, and uh, he kinda just went straight into medical. Barely any of us colonists were aware, so when it came off he kind of just went back to his normal life, and then,” you sucked in a sharp breath and when you started to speak again your voice was shaky, “then I remember one day, he was walking through the hallway, and I had been there, walking towards him. He um, he got these chest pains or something, and the next thing we all knew he was letting out these awful, awful screams, and some- something came out of his chest.”

You looked at the faces around you, all with sympathetic expressions, silently encouraging you to go on.

“There was blood everywhere. We weren’t able to get him to a doctor in time, and he died there in front of me. The thing that came out of him though, it was shrieking, and it ran off before anyone managed to get a good look at it really.” You felt yourself choking up as you relived the horrible memories. “And since that day more and more people just started disappearing, and the people who went looking for them never returned either. Some of us wanted to fight back, tried building barricades and fighting with everything they had, others, like me hid. Newt and I are the only ones left.”

Gorman let out a deep sigh from beside you. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” You said with a sad smile on your face. Some sick and twisted part of you was happy, glad that you had managed to survive instead of dying alongside your friends and family. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” You pushed yourself up from the chair and picked up your cup of coffee. “I have to go check on Newt.”

“I’ll join you.” Gorman said.

You gave him a small nod as the two of you stood, briefly meeting Hicks’ eye before turning and walking to where you could see Ripley and Newt.

You and Gorman walked side by side towards them, watching as Ripley gently wiped Newt’s face with a cloth.

“Hi baby.” You smiled at her as you reached her, before looking at Ripley. “Thank you.”

“No problem, I was just cleaning up Rebecca’s face.” Ripley said with a comforting smile, something about it was oddly maternal and it put you at ease.

“Newt.” Came a small voice from beside you.

“What?” Ripley asked, shocked at her speaking.

“My name is Newt. Nobody calls me Rebecca, except my brother.”

Ripley smiled again.

“Newt? I like that.”

“How did you know her name was Rebecca?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Her colonist ID number was stitched into her jacket.” Ripley explained. “I got Hudson to run it through your system.”

You nodded, keeping your mouth shut. You had spoken enough today, and your throat was starting to pay the consequences.

Gorman took the cap on his head off and turned to Ripley, speaking quietly.

“Ripley, based off of Y/n’s story we believe that your alien was here too, and lots of them. Right now I’ve got Hudson scanning for PDT’s to find out where all of these colonists are, and I need you to be ready when we find them.”

“I got it.” Ripley said, giving him a tight smile as he turned and walked off.

The lieutenant made his way over to where a few marines, Hicks included, were now huddled around a computer screen.

“So who’s this, hmm?” Ripley asked Newt, picking up the doll head she had found in the trash last week.

“Casey.” Newt mumbled.

“Hello Casey.” Ripley tilted her head sideways, getting a good look at the doll. “What about your brother?” She looked back at Newt. “What’s his name?”

“Timmy.”

“Is Timmy around here too?” Ripley asked and you nudged her gently, trying to silently tell her to drop it.

Newt stayed silent.

“No.” You said. “Can we drop this now?”

“Sorry.” Ripley said quietly. “What about you guys? How did you meet?”

“We bumped into each other in an air vent.” You let out a small laugh. “We both had found food, and decided to share it, and we’ve been together since.”

“Well I’m glad the two of you managed to find each other.” She said.

“I-” You were cut off abruptly by a voice from the group of marines.

“Yo! Stop your grinnin’ and drop your linen! Found ‘em.”

Your heart stopped. Had they found the rest of the colonists?

#the alien franchise #aliens (1986) #dwayne hicks #hicks #corporal hicks #imagine #dwayne hicks x reader #hicks x reader #corporal hicks x reader #underrated characters

[starlocked01]

The Black Coffee Widower

AO3 Link

Dukexiety Week Day 3- Coffee Shop

WC: 4.2K

Summary: Virgil works the late-night shift at the local coffee shop. That's where he poisons and picks up his victims. He wasn't ready for the one who didn't fight back.

Content Warnings (there's a lot today): Serial Killer/Coffee Shop AU Unsympathetic Virgil, Poisoning, Kidnapping, Swearing, Gun Violence, Negative Self-talk, Self Hatred, Murder and Attempted Murder, Implied Sexual content. Sexual innuendo, referenced rape, referenced mutilation, Strangulation, Hospitals, Police

@dukexietyweek

The simple fact was that they glowed. Virgil had long ago given up on trying to explain it to himself; they just glowed when he saw them. It was like a premonition- a beautiful soft light that needed to be contained lest it sullied the rest of the world by leaving it dim and grungy in comparison.

Virgil was grungy. He knew very well he didn't and would never glow as they did. Maybe that was the reason why. Maybe if he ever had to tell someone why he did it, he'd tell them that.

He killed them because they glowed and no one should be able to glow.

However, he'd never cared all that much about the whys. The hows were so much more fun. How did he pick his victims? Easy. They glowed and walked in at the wrong time. How did a weak, little, pathetic loser subdue the perfect glowing people? Bitter coffee was a perfect cover for bitter poisons. How did he end their lives? Any way he pleased.

How did he avoid detection? A healthy dose of anxiety kept him careful. Too many of the brightest glowing people escaped because they'd be missed. He never went by his legal name anywhere. He stayed patient and alert. He was the nobody that no one could ever remember. Playing barista sucked but it was the perfect cover. No one ever suspected the sulky, little, dimwitted worker stuck on the insomniacs shift at the quiet little 24-hour cafe. And no one ever really noticed if the store's hours were a bit unpredictable between 2 am and 4 am. That was the best time for hunting; it worked and Virgil wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

---

Virgil knelt, his latest catch already unconscious and tied up behind the counter when the doorbell chimed. Cursing at himself for forgetting to lock the door, Virgil grabbed a refill pack of napkins and stood cautiously. He gasped, finding the man who had entered shone twice as brightly as the woman he already had tied up. Certain that Miss Double-Soy-Latte-with-Hazelnut-Syrup-and-Whipped-Cream-you-got-that-Sugar? wasn't about to wake up and cause a scene, Virgil watched the man as he studied the menu.

The first thing he would do is take the man’s studded wrist gauntlet and fishnet fingerless gloves. Those things couldn't belong to someone who glows. Virgil squinted and could just make out a loosely looped studded belt to match, hanging off the man’s hip and exposing his lack of undergarments. Virgil hungrily followed the curve of that hip with his eyes up to the man's stomach peeking out underneath the ragged edge of a homemade cropped band t-shirt. He wanted to punch that stomach, to feel what it was like when the man tensed and when he stayed soft in compliance.

Next, he stared at shapely arms crossed in front of the man's chest. Those arms looked strong as a vice and he wondered how much effort it would take to break those delicate bones to render the muscles useless. Would he break first?

The man wore a sleeveless leather vest, displaying a museum's worth of inkwork, tentacles and snakes, and other writhing forms accented periodically with teeth and eyes and fangs and beaks. A rendition of the Harry Potter Death Eater mark set into the shoulder and tattooed thorns circled his neck. Virgil found himself getting hot under the collar and decided two in one night would be a fun challenge.

It was hard to see the man’s face until he flashed Virgil a brilliantly blinding smile as if on cue. The smile was all the sign Virgil needed to know this man would die tonight. He was practically begging Virgil to save him from the light radiating from his face. His gorgeous, handsome, wild-eyed face.

Virgil wanted so badly to touch the messy, overdue 5 o'clock shadow, to feel the scars left by razor nicks and frequent skin irritation. He wanted to wipe away the heavy eyeliner and mascara, run dirty fingers through greasy, dyed hair. He wanted those eyes to see him for who he is so he could spare them the pain of hoping there had been another ending once he'd entered the shop.

If the stranger was uncomfortable with his intense gaze, he certainly didn't show it as he approached the counter. Virgil squirmed as a cacophony of overlapping mismatched beats of a second hand overwhelmed his entire sense of hearing. Looking down, he quickly spotted a wristwatch on the unconscious woman's wrist and stepped on it to deaden the maddening sound. Soon all he could hear was the new customer's watch ticking erratically as though it needed to be wound up.

"Heya, kitten! Like what you see, baby?" the man smirked at Virgil as he leaned down on the counter and made sultry suggestive eyes at him.

"Excuse me?" Virgil hissed, recoiling from the familiarity.

"Woah, kitty's got claws huh?" the man giggled. Virgil stiffened, well aware how close the man could come to looking down and spotting the woman. And if he attempted to turn him in it wouldn't end pretty. He didn't want to have to clean up the shop after a struggle before having his fun.

"What are you ordering?" Virgil asked tersely.

"Me-ow. Guess you don't swing my way- darn. I bet you've got a totally bodacious booty too," the man batted his eyelashes at Virgil.

"That isn't on the menu. Order or get lost, yeah?" Virgil growled, trying to seem as disinterested in the enticing man as he could manage.

"Right. Seven shots of espresso, a shot of creamer, and a shot of the pineapple ginger concentrate, s'il vous plait," the man listed off as though he'd ordered the same thing a hundred times.

Virgil froze, unsure how to ring up the disgusting concoction, "what the hell? What kind of drink is that?"

"It's like me. One of a kind," the man beamed, brushing bleached silver hair out of his eyes, "can you handle that, kitty kat?"

"Stop with the pet names," Virgil rolled his eyes and finished inputting the drink, "um.. that will be… $6.69."

"Eyo! Sixty niiiiiiine," the man giggled emphatically while pulling out his money to pay.

Virgil rolled his eyes, "childish. Name for the order?"

"Uh, your phone number."

"What?"

"Damn you don't take hints!" the man placed one hand on his chest and bowed with a flourish, "my name is Remus, and I think you're very cute, kitty kat."

"You are maddening! Just call me Virgil!" he snapped, getting a cup ready to prepare the last drink Remus would ever have, "it's gonna take a minute to pull all those shots. Gosh… that much caffeine could kill you…" Virgil smirked at his own joke.

Remus took the smirk for a friendly smile and grinned, "I got all night for you, Virgil."

"That's cute. I'll let you know when it's ready," Virgil smiled, making direct eye contact as he added his favorite blend of sedatives to Remus’s cup.

It only took 30 seconds before Remus hit the floor with a confused grunt. Virgil was almost impressed the man had downed half the drink in one gulp. Moving quickly, Virgil locked the shop and dragged Remus back behind the counter, binding and gagging the flirtatious idiot. Tonight was going to be so special.

---

It hadn’t been easy, moving both bodies- cursing his weak, pathetic self the entire time. He made sure to dose both of them again after stashing them in the trunk so he could go back and finish out his shift.

He smiled pleasantly at the officers who stopped by just before the morning shift, careful to not give them any reason to be suspicious as he packed up day-old donuts and prepared two drinks nearly as caffeinated as Remus’s drink had been but significantly less poisoned. But still a little poisoned because fuck the police.

It took every muscle in Virgil’s body to not run gleefully to the car when the morning shift came to relieve him from work. He hid his excitement behind his usual persona of snarky disinterest and exhaustion until he was safely in the car and blasting his favorite CD on the drive home.

Pulling directly into the garage, Virgil shut down the car and giggled as the door shut slowly on his prisoners' last hope for rescue. Working at a leisurely pace, Virgil dragged first Remus then the woman down into his basement, both drowsy and barely able to make a complaint. It only seemed fair they die in the order they'd been caught so Virgil laid Remus out on the couch while he tied the woman down to his workbench.

The woman began to moan pathetically just as Virgil was tying down the last limb. It was not a moment too soon. He chuckled to himself and smacked her face a few times to help her wake up.

"Look alive, sunshine! You won't be much longer, I'm afraid," Virgil quipped as she blinked awake and started to panic at the restraints holding her down.

God, he hated when they screamed almost as much as he hated the watches. Virgil waited as long as he could stand the high-pitched whining pleas for freedom and help before loudly shushing until she quieted.

"Shh! Stop yelling or I will restrict your breathing," Virgil hissed, laying a prohibitive finger to her lips, "I promise you'll live longer if you stay quiet."

"You'll let me go?"

"No. I'll just take my time," Virgil smirked as the color drained from her face and her lip began to quiver, "ohh. Ohh, don't be so dramatic, sweetheart. It's time to grow up and realize death is inevitable."

Virgil laughed as she started screaming again, only turning away when Remus stirred from his sleep.

"Oh, dear. You've woken up my other guest. Now you know, he's special. You're going to have the life choked out of you, slowly but surely, but he gets to lose a lot more than his life. Count yourself lucky, sweetheart." Virgil turned to examine the man on the couch again as he blearily blinked up at him.

"You coulda'sked, kitkat," Remus mumbled nearly incomprehensibly. Virgil tilted his head in confusion as he watched Remus. The man slowly regained awareness, and even as Virgil stood above him with a hard frown, he smiled back up at his captor.

"What the hell are you getting on about?" Virgil asked with a growl, hoping to startle that unsettling grin off Remus’ face.

Remus laughed, "you coulda just asked if you wanted to do a scene, cutie! Although I love the attention to realism. Like you actually drugged me to bring me home!"

Virgil stared, completely in shock at what he was hearing, "wait.. you think…"

"That you were too shy to ask me out so you drugged me and dragged me back home? Yes," Remus nodded enthusiastically, "if you have some whips and an electric hand mixer we can have some real fun, you sexy little kitten!" Remus bumped his eyebrows suggestively, leaving Virgil absolutely stunned.

"What is going on here?!?" the woman on the table cried out.

"Shut the hell up!" Virgil barked back at her, too confused to do much more than stare at Remus. Why did he like this? Why did Virgil like that Remus liked this? He felt hot and confused but also certain about one thing he absolutely wanted.

Experimentally he reached down and laid his hand on Remus’ exposed stomach. Watching Remus for his reaction, Virgil slowly slid his hand along the skin and up to Remus’s chest. Remus shut his eyes with a smile and shivered at the touch, "oh yeah, baby. I can purr for you, kitty. Anything you want."

Virgil inhaled sharply, pulling back his hand and looking back at the other prisoner as she lay whimpering on the table.

Well shit, what was he supposed to do with a captive audience?

---

Virgil didn't know what he'd been thinking, letting Remus go after all was said and done. Remus had been fun and so down for all of his sickest fantasies, supplying quite a few of his own. He'd stolen Remus’ watch and put it on the woman's body before shooting both timepieces on her wrist. The ticking had probably driven him to let Remus go. That had to explain it

He dumped the woman as far as he possibly could and hoped beyond reason that Remus wouldn't recognize her in the news and realized what he'd done. For a week he lived in fear of the cops showing up at work or worse his house, armed with search warrants and one hell of a witness. For a week, nothing happened.

It turned out he'd worried for nothing. Just when Virgil began to itch again to get rid of another glowing being, despite the police pressure pushing him to lay low, Remus came back in during his shift.

"Hello, my little purrrfect kitten!" Remus beamed as he walked into the shop.

Virgil froze and slowly turned back to face him, "you- you came back?"

"Mhm. Never got your number but I wanted to see you again, Virgie. Figured we could have some more fun this time," Remus smirked as he leaned casually against the counter, "one usual with the special sauce please!"

"Special sauce?" Virgil asked, still amazed Remus had even come back to the cafe.

"You know," Remus leaned in close and whispered, "the stuff that knocks me out so you can take me home and we can get it on freakier than my last BDSM club"

"Wow, you- you liked it that much?" Virgil let out a low whistle. He studied Remus again, stricken by the fact he didn't glow so much this time. Even though Virgil wanted to take care of another glowing bastard, he was so much more interested in this willing abductee.

"Yeah, I did! That shit's hot as fuck!" Remus beamed. Virgil checked the time on his terminal display and realized it was nearly the time his least favorite police patrons would be making their morning run.

"Look, uh… why don't we save the tranqs for my place?" Virgil smirked as he started to prepare Remus’ strange order, "I'm amazed this drink doesn't put you in a coma already."

Remus giggled, "sometimes it takes a little something extra to get the heart pumping, yeah?"

"Hm. Well, I get off in two hours-"

"I'll be sitting right here in the corner then. I wanna get to know you, Virgie."

"A horrible mistake for you, really," Virgil laughed, heart fluttering far too much.

"Plus I think I left my watch at your place…"

"I haven't seen it this week. We can look though," Virgil lied smoothly, knowing very well the police had the timepiece in evidence.

Remus kept flirting as Virgil cleaned the store and served the early morning crowd, true to his word about waiting to leave with Virgil. They walked out to his car and Remus held out his arm expectantly when they sat down.

"What?" Virgil asked suspiciously.

"You're off the clock, let's get this party started. Surely you have the special stuff in here- you injected me last time."

Virgil flushed, "um.. really? You don't want to wait to know where we're going first?"

"How am I supposed to pretend I'm getting kidnapped if you don't knock me out? At least tie my hands?" Remus bat his eyes at Virgil who rolled his eyes and leaned over to grab a scarf out of the glove box.

"You're ridiculous."

"Yeah but you like it, kitten."

---

Logan stared at the evidence bored, absolutely baffled. In 5 months there had been 18 victims, a consistent signature, and every promise that someone would turn up with a connection to this perp. Or someone should know where these folks had been headed when they fell into the unsub's trap.

And then after Lydia with the two watches- nothing. No bodies were found for weeks. No whisperings of the media-named Black Widower who aggressively mutilated his male victims almost beyond recognition after raping them and humiliated the women after strangling them with silk scarves.

"I just don’t understand. Guys like this don’t go dormant! It's against every drive they have. What are we missing, Patton?"

Patton looked up from his third cup of coffee, "I don't know, Lo. What about the two-unsub theory? Maybe they met up and are keeping each other occupied?"

Logan rolled his eyes, "oh sure. Two serial killers, one who's gay and one who hates women meet and start playing house. Real cute."

"It could happen…" Patton replied defensively, already reaching for a second donut as his partner glared disapprovingly.

"No. I think it's the same unsub. The watches are always shot while the victim wears them. It's consistent. It's a single, unique signature that the media still hasn't published. If it's two different killers, they knew about each other and were purposefully copying each other long before they went dormant."

"Well, I'm not going to complain that we aren't finding more victims. I'd rather people not be mysteriously killed and maimed by the Black Widower...s," Patton lifted his chin defiantly. He stood and walked over to the evidence board, studying the geographic profile again, the map showing a confusing cluster of dumpsites, victim's homes, and last sightings, and puzzled over the strangeness of the case.

"If this case goes cold, we may never find the unsub. He lives his life, free to decide to start again while all of his victims lay rotting in the ground. Their families don't deserve to live with that fear," Logan sighed heavily in near defeat, "of course I don’t want more victims. I want this man caught. Why did he suddenly stop?"

---

For a month, Remus had come in once or twice a week, asking Virgil for the secret sauce and flirting with him until the end of his shift. The randomness of his timing and anticipation of his visits made it impossible for Virgil to hunt. He didn't quite mind because seeing Remus was always better than the thrill of the kill.

Virgil finally relented and watched with quiet admiration as Remus celebrated over getting his number, and their relationship only moved faster after that. Pretty soon Remus was able to convince him to go on an actual date after work, grabbing breakfast at a nearby diner and hitting up his apartment afterward. Virgil had rarely spent so long away from his own home, but being out with Remus made him feel almost normal.

Media slowly stopped covering the Black Widower and Virgil smiled to himself just imagining how frustrated the police must be that they couldn't find him.

Virgil was happy, laying next to his boyfriend who loved him despite almost every eccentricity. He almost believed nothing could go wrong with Remus there.

"Uh, kit kat? I have a bit of a confession to make," Virgil winced, cursing himself for being so naive to believe that foolish sentiment.

"What’s up, dukey?" Virgil rolled to his side to face his boyfriend, "you can tell me anything."

"I don't- promise you won't get mad or like.. react badly?" Remus asked quietly, alarming Virgil even more.

He gently laid a hand on Remus’ neck and rubbed that roughened cheek with his thumb, "what's going on, Rem? You're scaring me."

Remus visibly gulped and whispered, "I know what happened to my watch. Virgil, I've always known.."

Virgil pulled back slowly. So this is what it actually felt like to be caught. His heart hammered in his throat, making a verbal reply impossible. He strained to not start crushing Remus’ throat and his own heart in his panic. This was love and this was a threat and god the way Remus looked at him right now only complicated everything else so much more.

He wasn't scared. He wasn't wriggling away from Virgil’s touch. Remus stared death in the eye unflinchingly.

He'd always figured his boyfriend must be brave or stupid, but Virgil hadn't counted on both.

"I know… what you are… and I still fell in love with you, Virgil. If you're gonna… could you at least drug me first and let me kiss you with my last breath?"

Very quickly several pieces fell into place as Virgil stared at the man who loved him despite every flaw and couldn't even beg for his own safety or life.

Remus knew what happened the night they met.

Remus had made the connections to the other murders and the subsequent drought of victims.

Remus could have turned him in- directly to the officers at the shop a half dozen times and a hundred other times when they weren’t spending time together.

Remus loved him.

Remus loved him and was scared of this confrontation.

Remus was not scared of dying.

Killing his boyfriend would be the exact link the cops would need to capture him.

Not killing his boyfriend for knowing his secret would be the largest risk imaginable.

Virgil couldn’t live without Remus

His hand was slowly choking Remus out despite his reluctance to take action.

Virgil gasped and pushed Remus away roughly, darting out of the bed and down the hall. He didn't stop until he heard Remus calling out for him.

Shit.

"Virgil!" his voice came out hoarse and painfully weak sounding. Virgil knew he should run.

But Remus was calling for him. And this was his fault.

"Virgil?" it was a question, asked in a voice that couldn't get enough air to support itself. He could leave and Remus would probably die a very painful death, all alone, with his fingers and palm emblazoned in the bruising that would provide the cause of death.

Remus loved him. He couldn't let this be the end.

Virgil flew back into the bedroom, grabbed the landline, and made the call.

"Remus, I am so sorry. Just keep breathing, baby. I am so so sorry!" Virgil apologized profusely, waiting for the emergency operator to pick up.

---

Hospital staff had to pry Virgil from Remus’ side as they moved him quickly into the O.R. Virgil paced and wondered how exactly to explain Remus’s injuries without getting arrested to distract himself from the fear that Remus would die in surgery.

He should have never let himself get so close to someone so smart and funny and perfect and… glowing. Virgil sat and waited for the doctor's verdict, pulling his hood over his eyes to block out the throngs of injured, sick, frantically glowing people around him.

Ages passed until Virgil heard his name and looked up suddenly for the source. A doctor and a police officer stood before him and all of the adrenaline in his body screamed that he needed to run.

"Uh.. how is he, doc?" Virgil asked, fighting himself to not scream or make a scene.

"Remus Crowne is currently in recovery and you may visit him. Due to the nature of his injuries, we have contacted the police to speak with him first," the doctor intoned, voice dripping with suspicion.

The officer took the pause to speak up, "would you like to make a statement, Mr. Kier?"

"I just want to see him," Virgil replied in a raspy voice, shaking his head in denial as he stood.

"Very well. This way, sir," the doctor led Virgil and the officer back towards the recovery rooms. When they arrived, Virgil nearly choked seeing Remus talking with the same two officers who came into his shop each morning. The shorter one knelt beside the bed to hold Remus’ hand. He spoke softly and asked all the questions while his partner stood tall and took notes, looking incredulously at the injured man. Virgil instinctively wanted to barge in and protect Remus from these pigs but the third held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Before long the two officers left the room, eyeing Virgil disdainfully. He waited for the words that would send his world crashing around him even more than it already had.

"You- you can go in now, hon," Virgil's head tilted in confusion as the third officer let him go, "just be more careful in the future."

"I- what? No charges?" Virgil barely whispered, glancing towards the bed where Remus laid watching the tv.

"Believe me, if it had been me, I don’t care how consensual- I would have pressed charges for sending me to the E.R. have a good day, sir. Come along, Patton." The stricter-looking cop turned, gesturing to the kinder one and all three left quickly. Virgil beamed and ran to Remus’ side.

"You're welcome, kitten," Remus coughed and reached for Virgil’s hand.

"I'm so sorry- I didn't want to, Rem-"

"Shhhh. I told them it was a sex fantasy gone a bit too far. If I'd known you liked strangling dudes too-"

"Now you shush!" Virgil leaned in close, "you get better fast now, okay?"

"I always wanted to date a serial killer.. promise you won't leave me over this?" Remus grinned weakly up at Virgil, "I could help you, ya know."

"Shhhh this is just the pain meds talking. You don’t know a serial killer," Virgil laughed as tears of relief streamed down his cheeks. He gave Remus a dramatic stage wink and held his hand securely.

"Aww, you're right. I'm just stuck with a pretty boy who doesn't know his own strength," Remus grinned and watched Virgil rather than the tv until a nurse came to shoo his boyfriend away for the night.

Remus couldn't wait for their first hunt together.

#dukexietyweek2021 #dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #serial killer au #coffee shop au #please please please mind the content warning #please remember that reblogs help more than likes ^ ^ #shit i'm like 10 minutes late nooooo

[jamesmydeer]

patching up the marauders hc

it’s been a hot minutes since i’ve done a headcanon for all three boys, so here you go :)

masterlist

james

- he doesn’t like for you to wait up for him

- so he makes you stay in your dorm and comes up there when he gets back

- don’t get him wrong, he’s hurting physically

- but he needs more emotional patching up

- because he hates to see remus go through that

- and he just needs to vent

- when he trudges in as quietly as he can, the first thing you do is run up to him and hug him

- for a solid ten minutes

- until you see that your shirt has blood on it

- and oh my gosh jamie is bleeding

- so you help him to your bed and have him lay down while you go get some supplies to clean him up a bit

- he doesn’t like to talk while you tend to his wounds

- he’d rather just admire you

- when you’re done, he won’t let you leave the bed to put anything up

- he lays his head on your chest and puts your hand in his hair

- because he really needs head scratches

- and when you start rubbing his back, he finally lets go

- he starts softly crying

- mainly for remus

- but also for sirius, and everything with his family

- and all the stress he feels with quidditch

- he tries to be strong all the time

- but when it’s just you two, with him laying on your chest, he feels really vulnerable

- you love that he trusts you enough to talk about this kind of stuff with you

- so you softly cast muffliato and hold him closer, preparing for his vent

- he swears you’re the best listener

- he’s absolutely drained, so much so that he falls asleep in the middle of his rant

- you laugh softly to yourself and pull a blanket over you two

- and you hold him a little closer than usual

- and he definitely wakes you up with kisses cause he appreciates you so so much

sirius

- this boy milks it

- so hard

- he adores when you dote on him

- and although he doesn’t want you to worry about him

- he likes attention

- you wait on him to come back in the common room

- and he automatically falls into your arms

“everything hurts” 🥺

- leans on you as you walk him up to his dorm

- makes suggestive comments when you take his shirt off

- has to have a kiss after every. single. pat of the cloth on his body

- makes you wash his hair in the sink

- because it feels greasy, and sirius black does NOT have greasy hair

- as you’re towel drying his hair while he’s sitting on the toilet, he pulls you onto his lap

- and you stay like that for a while

“thank you”

“you don’t have to thank me siri”

- he knows he doesn’t, but he wants to

- because you’ll never know how much he appreciates what you do for him

- you stand up to go back to his bed

- and oh would you look at that his limp is back

- so you practically carry him to bed

- and he of course lays his head in your lap

- but it’s okay because his hair is super silky

- and you’re too soft for this boy

- he whispers i love you a lot

- asks for back scratches

- if he had a tail, he would wag it

remus

- you pace all around the common room waiting for him

- the moment the portrait swing open, your heart shatters

- poor baby boy

- absolutely beat

- so tired

- when he walks in

- and by that i mean when sirius and james manage to drag him through the portrait opening

- he tries to stand tall and pretend nothings wrong

- and he manages to give you a weak smile

- because he hates to see you upset

- so so much

- the boys take him upstairs and it takes everything for you not to cry watching him wince while climbing the stairs

- when the boys finally make it up the stairs, they carefully plop him onto his bed

- and they ask you if you need help

- but you tell them they’ve helped enough, and they scurry off to go clean themselves up

- when it’s just you two, remus smiles and brings a hand up to cup your cheek

- but he winces due to the cut on his lip

- and you break down

“you don’t deserve this”

“hey, none of that. i’m fine, see”

- he would then pull a funny face to make you chuckle

- and you do

- because he’s in so much pain, but still tries to make you happy

- and succeeds

- you then immediately get to work

- placing gentle kisses on all his new cuts and bruises

- he giggles after every one

- when you make your way up to his face, he grabs your hand and kisses your palm

- and tells you he loves you

- then he lets you continue

- when you’re done, you stand up from his bed

- and he doesn’t like that at all

- he sits up as much as he can and pulls you back by your hips

- you reassure him that you’ll be right back

- and he begrudgingly lets you go

- but when you return with chocolate, all is forgiven

- you refuse to let him move a single muscle

- and feed him the chocolate

- he doesn’t complain

- when he gets too tired to eat, he pulls you into him

- and you can tell he’s not feeling the best about himself

- so you kiss all his scars you can reach

- new and old

- and tell him how handsome he is

- and when you’re done, you rub your nose against his

- and he nuzzles his face into your neck

- and sleeps like a baby

- because you make him feel safe

- aawwwww poor bub i adore him

#harry potter #jamesmydeer #marauders #harry potter hc #harry potter imagine #marauders hc #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black hc #sirius black imagine #james potter #james potter imagines #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #james potter hc #remus lupin hc

[binunus]

my tylenol when i’m in pain | moon bin

a/n when I got this request, the title of it literally came to me instantly so if you want some cute mood music while reading, listen to lemonade by jeremy passion sksksksk, 

thank you to the cutie who requested this !! I hope your migraines feel better love ❤️ you’re cranking up binnie on my bias list 👀

{request: i get really bad chronic migraines sometimes and I was wondering if you could write something where bin takes care of his s/o when they're not feeling well. if you're okay with that :)}

genre: the fluffiest

word count: 2.2k ________________________________________________

Your POV

It was absolutely beautiful outside. The previous night’s snowfall left a pristine blanket of white on the street. You looked outside your window to see several kids making snowmen or engaging in snowball fights.

Ahh the innocent ideal of the youth.

You wished you could go outside and join in on the winter festivities without any care in the world, but alas being a working adult crushed those wishes any day. And it didn’t help that you felt like complete shit right now. 

For the past week and a half, you were working nonstop on a project that had a heavy deadline submission which ended yesterday. You barely completed it on time, sacrificing your well-loved sleep and meals to have a presentable end product. 

If you were back in high school or college, your stamina could have easily bounced back from the lack of sleep and nutrition, but your body couldn’t handle the neglect right now—and the cold weather only catalyzed your impending sickness.

Trudging back to bed, you winced as you tried to make yourself comfortable under the covers, muscles aching with every movement. You were at least thankful that your boss granted everyone an off-day today because of the snow, giving you one less thing to worry about in your list of priorities.

Faintly, you heard the jingle of keys from your front door, a tinge of excitement filling you at your guest.

“Baby?”

“In my room.”

“Shit, you sound so weak.” Your boyfriend frowned as he entered your bedroom, removing his hat and coat and placing it on the table by your desk. He walked over to where you were laying, leaning down for a kiss when you ducked under the covers, “Binnie, I don’t wanna get you sick.”

He let out a chuckle, removing the blanket from covering your face and stealing a kiss anyway. You scrunched your nose up, “If you get sick, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll take my chances, baby.” Bin said with a smile, taking a seat at the side of your bed. He softly caressed your hair, “Hmm, how are you feeling?”

“A bit better now that you’re here,” You said trying to sound positive, “but if you’re asking me physically? Terrible.”

“Have you eaten?? What about a shower? Taking one helps a lot, and it makes you feel clean.” Bin nagged, thumb rubbing your cheek. You pouted, lightly shaking your head, “I’m not hungry, and it hurts too much when I move. Maybe later Binnie, my head really hurts right now and I just wanna close my eyes.”

He nodded, immediately standing up to go over to the other side of the bed. Bin crawled into bed next to you, arm hooking under your shoulder as you turned to hug his waist, snuggling as close to him as you could get. He kissed your forehead sweetly, humming a little song as you started to get comfortable, his chest as your pillow. Rubbing your arm gently as he sang, it took you only a couple minutes before your breathing evened out, the pounding of your head dulling as sleep overtook you.

Bin nuzzled his nose in your hair, your scent giving him a fluttery feeling in the base of his stomach. A little nap with you was too good to pass at the moment. Just fifteen minutes, Bin thought as he closed his eyes, feeling his body relax against yours.

After a little while, Bin found himself stirring awake, much to his dismay because he loved his sleep. Blinking the drowsiness away, he glanced at you to see that you were still deeply in slumber, soft snores coming out of your mouth. He smiled unable to stop himself from pressing a kiss to your cheek. He almost felt bad untangling himself from your hold at the risk of waking you up.

Carefully, he got up and out of bed, making sure that you were still tucked in before heading to the kitchen, closing the door quietly as he left. Bin let out a huge yawn as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink, getting ready to prep some ingredients for the soup he was about to make. 

Bin played some music on his phone as he cooked, loud enough to give him entertainment, but at a volume so that it wouldn’t disturb you. He was pretty proud of himself after finishing the chicken soup, plating the bowl nicely on one of your bedside trays with some medicine and a glass of water. Bin even cleaned up the pots he used for cooking, knowing that it was better for him to wash it now while he still had the motivation. And there was no way that he would let you lift a finger while he was here taking care of you.

After washing his hands again, Bin went back into your bedroom, tray in hand. He set it down briefly on your table to wake you up, tapping your shoulder. “y/n? Wake up baby.” 

You groaned, eyes still closed as you turned in your bed, back facing your boyfriend. “5 more minutes.”

“Baby, the soup’s gonna get cold. C’mon, you have to eat even a little bit.” He reasoned, pulling the blanket so that your upper half was exposed. You nodded drowsily, struggling as you tried to sit up. Bin smiled, propping some pillows up for you to sit against. “I made chicken soup, after you eat take some medicine okay?”

“Okay,” You nodded slowly with your eyes closed, moving your hair to the back as Bin brought the tray over. Your headache wasn’t as strong as before, but your body still felt like it was throbbing a little, hopefully eating and the medicine would help cure you a bit. 

“Do you want me to feed you?” Bin teased, half jokingly but also you knew he would if you really asked him to. Again, you nodded opening your mouth obediently. Grinning, he took a spoonful of broth, making sure to blow on it so that it wouldn’t be too hot before feeding you. “You’re so cute, y/n. You really are my baby, hm?”

“Mm I’m sick,” You said finally opening your eyes, sleep still heavy on your lids. You weren’t really disagreeing with him though. “That’s really good Binnie, I can feel my sinuses clearing up a little.”

“I made it with love,” He said cutely, leaning over to kiss you quickly on the lips. You let out an amused chuckle, letting his greasy comment slide as you opened your mouth for more. 

The two of you conversed easily as he fed you, catching you up on the latest drama at his work and with his friends. Although Bin made the soup for you, you made sure that he filled his hunger a little bit too, making him finish the rest of the bowl when you felt full. He praised you like a child when you took your medicine and finished the glass of water, it was a bit endearing if you were honest. “Do you need anything right now? How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay baby, thank you.” You said getting comfortable again under the covers. “Cuddle??”

“I’ll just put this away and then I’m all yours.” Bin nodded with a smile, going to the kitchen once more. After a couple minutes, he returned with a towel and a bowl of water.

“I thought we were gonna cuddle?” You pouted looking at him. Laughing, he dipped the towel in the bowl and wrung out the water, bringing it to you and placing it on your forehead. “We are baby, let me just try and bring your fever down a bit, your skin’s burning.”

You nodded, your body basically dead weight as he helped you sit up again, cooling your skin with the damp towel. You hummed in satisfaction, the cold cloth a nice comparison to your hot skin. “We might as well have just taken a bath.”

“Do you want to?” He asked rubbing the towel around your back. “Bath and then cuddle after?”

“Mhm,” You said removing the blanket and getting up, Bin holding your waist as you two walked to the bathroom. He told you to wait a minute as he turned on the water, checking the temperature as it filled up the bathtub. After deeming that the water was at a good amount, Bin started to strip himself of his clothing, stepping into the tub soon after. “Do you want my help, baby?”

“In your dreams,” You quipped removing your shirt. “Keep your hormones at bay, Binnie, my sick body won’t allow it.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, grabbing his phone from the counter and playing some music. “You know sex can help with removing sickness, y/n?”

“Uh huh, ask me that question again tomorrow and we’ll see how I respond.” You said getting in the tub and nestling between his legs. You shivered a little as your skin made contact with the water, leaning back against Bin’s chest for warmth. He grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You relaxed in the cage of Bin’s arms, resting your head against his chest as he began to sing along to the song that was playing on his phone, rubbing the belly softly under the water. The two of you sat like that for a while, you cooling down in silence, content with listening to Bin’s voice. 

“Sit up for a second baby, let me wash your hair.” He said, lifting his arms from your body and reaching for your shampoo. He squeezed a generous amount onto his hand, first massaging it into your hair before using the leftover for his own. It was a bit of a struggle to wash away all the suds, the size of your bathtub barely enough to fit both you and Bin comfortably, but you somehow made it work. After deciding that dunking you both under water to rinse off the shampoo clearly wasn’t the right idea, Bin grabbed the shower head and opted for that instead, giggles coming from the both of you.

“Ah Binnie!” You whined as he started to tickle your sides, your boyfriend laughing as he drenched your head with water. “I’m cleansing you of your sickness, baby!”

That cycle repeated again, this time with conditioner, and by the time the two of you were done with your bath-turned-shower, the floor surrounding the tub was wet from all the splashes and Bin’s use of the detachable shower head. 

You shivered, arms hugging your body as Bin grabbed two towels, drying himself off first before doing the same to you. “I could have dried myself, baby.”

“I’m here taking care of you, and that includes drying you.” He shook his head. You chuckled, unsure of his logic but let him do as he pleased anyway. Bin smiled, eyes formed into crescent moons as he dried your hair, gently shaking the towel all over your head. Laughing, you went on your tiptoes, arms locking around his neck as you kissed him. He made a sound of contentment, moving his lips in tune with yours as his hands dropped down to your waist, leaving the towel on the top of your head. 

After a minute or so, you pulled away, a giggle leaving you as you saw Bin’s pout. You pecked his lips again briefly, before grabbing the towel and drying your hair again. Bin made sure to thoroughly dry the floor before the two of you went back to your bedroom. He changed into some shorts that he left at your place, deciding to forego a shirt since he usually chose not to sleep with one anyway. You, on the other hand, slipped on Bin’s shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, climbing immediately in bed after your hair was decently dry. 

He came to join you after getting another glass of water, encouraging you to drink it all before he cuddled you, knowing that the two of you were going to end up napping again. You finished the glass with ease, placing it on your bedside table, and turning to your boyfriend. He smiled, wrapping his arms around you again as the two of you laid down, finding yourselves in the same position as when he first came over earlier. “How are you feeling now, baby?”

“Honestly? Better.” You said, lips brushing against his clavicle. The medicine kicked in by now, but you were sure that Bin also had a lot to do with your slow recovery. “You’re all the medicine I need, baby.”

He let out a high-pitched cackle, squeezing your body a little tighter as he kissed your forehead. “If I get sick, will you be my medicine?”

“Of course,” You grinned, the tips of your fingers lazily drawing figures on his abdomen. “I love you Binnie, thank you for taking care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you, y/n.” He said softly, taking in your scent as he closed his eyes. “I love you too.”

You drifted off to sleep listening to his breathing, a deep slumber overtaking you. By the next morning, you woke up feeling loads better, your temperature now at a normal level and your headache mostly gone. You turned your head to see Bin still sleeping, a smile on your face as you craned your neck to kiss his cheek. You sighed, relaxing yourself in his hold before closing your eyes again, sleeping for a little longer wouldn’t hurt. Especially if Bin was by your side.

__________________________________________

2-2-21

#I LOVE BIN #i could have easily made an innuendo in this but my mind was like no! this is supposed to be fluff! #binnie moonbob #bin #moonbin #moon bin #moonbin scenarios #moonbin au #moonbin fluff #moon bin scenarios #moon bin fluff #moon bin au #bin au #bin scenarios #bin fluff #astro #astro moonbin #astro scenarios #astro fluff #astro au

[nyxdelanuit]

Just a Taste (Asmo x Reader)

NSFW AHEAD LOVELIES XOXOXO thank you to @miiyaatsumu for beta-reading part of this c;

Asmo was fucked the moment Levi scurried out of the room. He hadn't meant to interrupt, not truly, but seeing Levi playing a game with you while laying his head on your lap deserved at least a coo or two. But Levi, the bashful thing, blushed to the high celestial realm and absconded from the room. Asmo chuckled softly, eyeing you now that he was finally alone with you for the first time in the many months. You stood gracefully, and Asmo wondered how a human could carry such grace to rival the angels themselves.

 “Asmodeus.” You laid your hand on his chest, and Asmo all but preened at the connection.

 “Asmo, darling.” He cooed, but you continued on as if you hadn’t heard him.

 "I've seen the looks you've given me." Your voice was so even, Asmo was a bit jealous.

 “I haven’t been trying to be subtle.” Asmo trailed his fingers over your cheek, excited that he may finally talk you into his bed. The fun the two of you could have, if only you let him.

 “Not those ones, darling,” he couldn’t keep the excited trill from his throat when you called him such sweet names, “the looks you give me when I’m close with your brothers. The looks you gave Levi when you thought no one was watching while he laid on my lap. I’ll give you two options. My door will be open tonight, and you can either join me in bed, or you can start spending some time with me and get what your brothers are getting.” You patted his chest once, about to start searching for Levi, but you paused, caressing his face.

 "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Asmodeus."

How could you, he was the Avatar of Lust! He’d be betraying his very nature if he didn’t crawl into your bed, but he watched as the night stretched on. You had spent your time cuddled between the twins, laid against Beel with your head nestled in his shoulder, your delicate fingers passing through Belphie’s hair like silk. How peaceful Belphie looked curled up against you, his head cradled against your breast like a babe. You had caught his eye then, giving him a somber smile like you already knew what he would pick.

 He left the house in a hurry. He couldn't allow himself to sully this opportunity by spending a night in your bed when there were so many others that would welcome him readily- no strings attached.

 He came strolling in the next morning, unabashed by his disheveled appearance. Why should he hide what a wonderful night he had. You looked to him from your place at the table, a smirk gracing your face.

”Looks like you made a choice.”

 “Whatever did you mean? I already had plans last night.” He winked at you as he passed, but your words gave him pause.

 “Oh, if that’s the case, I’ll extend my deal through the end of the week.” Why did he have to open his mouth, he could have saved himself so much trouble if he just hadn’t said anything. Yet he soldiered on with a hollow laugh. He’s the Avatar of Lust, after all. It’s in his nature.

 Still, his wounded pride could only cover so much, and alone in his room he couldn’t help but pine for your touch, for your innocent love even at the cost of never falling into your bed.

 You were becoming concerned. Maybe you should have taken your words back, told Asmo that it was all a joke. Five days had passed, and each time you had seen Asmo, he looked more wrecked, dark circles plaguing his face. He never would have stood for it if he hadn't been so concerned with running away from your temptations.

 There you sat on your DDD, looking at Asmo's devilgram and the overly-edited pictures, surely covering the dark circles and the exhaustion that was impossible to hide in person. With a sigh, you set the device down, stripping down to a tank and underwear for bed.

 You were reclining on your pillows, scrolling through posts to unwind when you heard your door creak open. There stood Asmo, clothes rumpled, hair greasy, and the wavy locks falling limp. You thought maybe he'd finally given in after he hurridly started shucking his clothes, less graceful than you had ever seen him.

 He crawled into your arms, all whines. Your DDD was quickly abandoned to trail fingers over Asmo’s smooth skin. Your hand wandered in between you, quickly dipping down his abs to match the neediness that shone in Asmo’s eyes. You had almost reached Asmo’s adonis belt before he caught your hand, vulnerability oozing out of his pores.

 “Just… hold me?” It was a whisper, as if the question hurt him.

 "Of course, Asmo." You cooed, enjoying the shiver your words sent down his spine. He curled up to your chest, trying to recreate the position he saw Belphie in, and you welcomed him into your arms. Your hands when to card through his hair, grimacing at the oils coating your fingers. "When's the last time you slept in your own bed, love?" You whispered to him, getting only a weak chuckle in response. You laid a chaste kiss on his forehead, watching how pink tinted his cheeks at the innocent action. "How about we take a bath together, hm?"

 Asmo wasted no time picking you up off of your bed. He wouldn't let you stop touching him for a moment, not even to gather his clothes as he dashed off to his room. You were a flurry of giggles, desperately torn between covering yourself and clinging to Asmo as he smiled gently at you.

 It must have been a perk of being one of the demon lords of the devildom that Asmo’s bath was always filled to the brim with warm, lightly scented water. Asmo only set you down to remove his underwear, keeping his back to you as you did the same. He let you get in first, offering you a hand while keeping his eyes to the ground. It was sweet, if a bit unnecessary, but it did show you just how much Asmo was willing to try. You felt a bit guilty now, it must have tortured him to keep away from you this long.

 Asmo sunk into the water with a sigh, already seeming more like himself. The tub was big enough for you to sit on opposite sides with more than enough space between the two of you, but you motioned him closer as soon as his eyes drifted to yours. He approached slowly, as if you'd get up and leave if he was too eager. As soon as he was in reach, you drug him to sit between your legs. He tensed underneath your touch, but relaxed as your fingers drifted over his back.

 You set to work quickly, rifling through all the products lined on the side of the tub. Finally, finding one with a scent you enjoyed, you quickly wet Asmo's greasy locks. Your fingers worked small circles in his scalp, and Asmo could feel the sting of tears in his eyes. How long had it been that he'd felt touch without the expectation of reciprocation? When had anyone shown him affection without wanting him to prove his prowess? It seemed like all the other brothers were allowed to have other facets; to enjoy life outside of their sins, but Asmo was always expected to be lust incarnate. Yet here you were, washing his hair with a hum on your lips just because he needed his hair washed, and you thought he'd enjoy it.

 You were careful, as if he wasn't a demon, to not pull on the tangles, to make sure the water washed the suds away from his eyes. You didn't even ask him to do it for you, quickly washing and conditioning your hair while the deep conditioner sat in his hair. Your fingers in his hair was the closest taste of heaven Asmo had gotten since the fall, and he couldn't help the tears that fell as your fingers left him. You took your time washing him, rubbing every tense muscle in his body until he was putty under your touch. He had shared many baths with lovers, but nothing had been this intimate. You allowed him to exist as he was, nothing more.

 Asmo almost panicked as you moved to straddle his legs, clean and smelling of his soap. You shushed him with gentle touches, easing his anxious heart. He didn’t want to mess this up, not now, not that he finally knew what your love felt like. Even if the fire was burning in his gut, the urge to take you as his, he would never want to do anything to endanger what he had now.

 “Please don’t tempt me, I can’t stand it.” He whined, tears dripping like jewels into the water. You kissed those that clung to his cheeks, and he sobbed harder as he felt himself grow hard. How he wished more than ever that he had been the avatar of some other sin, something more easily controlled around you. He wished he could be sure he wouldn't ruin everything by being unable to resist taking you.

 “I should have never given you that ultimatum Asmo. I’ve given all your brothers love despite their natures, I should have done the same for you.” You finally placed a sweet kiss on his lips, and he couldn’t resist tangling his hands in your hair and deepening it, his body betraying his mind. You took it seamlessly, no less loving than any other touch you bestowed on him. He shook his head as you parted.

 “It should be different with you.” He cried, clinging to your body, unable to hold back a groan as your body pressed against his length.

 “And it will be.” You promised, angling his face so he looked into your eyes. You needed him to see that you meant it.

 “I love you… as much as someone like me can love someone.” He shuddered as your hand ghosted over his cock.

 "You are just as capable of love as anyone else, Asmo, and I love you too." You finally gripped him, forcing the last of his tears to fall from his lashes. "Now, let me love you. Tell me if you want me to stop." Stop? Like he would ever ask you to stop… but no one had offered him that before.

 The water pulled around you as you shuffled closer, bringing the tip to your waiting warmth. You sunk down slowly, eyes never drifting from Asmo’s as you adjusted. Your pace was slow, tender. More focus was placed on the sweet touches you laid on Asmo’s face, and he wasted no time nuzzling into your hand and placing kisses along your pulse.

 Asmo was sensitive, too sensitive. Unbeknownst to you, he had been unable to fuck any of his dates since you had challenged him. He had tried to picture you in their place, but it only left a sour taste. So he had slept on couches and swore the demons and succubi to silence for the better part of a week. That mixed with your undivided attention brought him too close to his peak, too quickly. His hands fell to your waist, softly urging you to slow the pace even more.

 “It’s okay, darling. Let go.” You whispered in his ear, damp hair falling to his shoulder. He came apart with a sigh, holding you close to his chest. His arm snaked underneath the water, searching for the spot that would help bring you pleasure, but you simply laced your fingers with his.

 “I want to make you feel good too.”

 “You do.”

 “I want to make you cum.”

 “You’ll have time for that later. This was just for you.” You laid a kiss at the corner of his mouth as you stood, stretching out your stiff muscles. Asmo took the time to drink you in, to think of ways he could worship you properly. “Let’s get out of here before our hair dries.” You smiled gently at him, running a hand through his still-damp hair. He couldn’t resist your touch, standing to whisk you out of the tub.

 If Mammon or Belphie looked for you that night, you’d never know. They wouldn’t yet think to look in Asmo’s bed, curled up against his chest. Even in sleep, he wore the most serene smile they would ever see, finally feeling something he had thought would be forever lost to him.

#asmo x reader #asmo x mc #asmodeus x mc #asmodeus x reader #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #asmo smut #asmo hurt/comfort #nyx writes

[crash-cinematic-universe]

a sickly satisfaction (ch.1)

pairing: jason dean/reader

summary: high school sucks. jason dean makes it a little better.

warnings: uuhhhh murder, language, suicide discussion

notes: i have every chapter of this written out already, so every wednesday I’ll release a new one <3 in total the story is 7,800 words! but there are some parts that are kind of short, forgive me for those.

            Eyes down. Walk fast. Stay out of their way. Three simple steps to get through the day. They had an iron grip on the school, their perfectly manicured nails digging into the oily skin of the entire student body. High School was a bloody battlefield in the war that is life. However, the epitome of cruelty, the ultimate teenage angst inducing, self-esteem crushing, happiness shattering war machine came in the form of three girls and their weak-willed sidekick. That’s right; my biggest threat in high school is Heather Chandler, Heather McNamara, Heather Duke, and Veronica Sawyer. Veronica at least has some semblance of regret and empathy-- she’s just doing what she needs to survive. Unfortunately, that means the rest of us have to struggle to keep our heads above water. 

            Thankfully, I have a sanctuary. A refrigerator heaven filled with endless isles of roadtrip snacks and hangover remedies. Of course, this junk food Garden of Eden also happens to contain my best friend, Tommy Geller. Tommy is 18, emo, and gay, so naturally we got along pretty well. He sits behind the register and lets me hang around until closing. It’s actually pretty nice-- sometimes he lets me do busywork around the store. Sure, it’s sort of pathetic that Snappy Snack Shack is my main source of serotonin, but you know what? There are worse places to be. 

            “Pop open a bottle of champagne, Tommy, because today is a special day!” I cry, pushing open the small class doors. To my delight, the store is empty. There are no irritating customers there to make me keep my voice down.

            “Oh? And why is that?” Tommy inquires, his jet black hair falling in front of his eyes. He’s tired-- and bored-- and I’m the perfect remedy for that. 

            “Today marks exactly six months since I first stepped foot in this town,” I grin. Tommy’s eyebrows perk up.

            “Really? Congrats, kid,” He’s humoring me a bit, but there is a genuine reaction beneath his sarcastic remarks. 

            “Thanks, Tommy. Y’know, that’s twice as long as my time in New Jersey and three times as long as my run in Nebraska. I have a feeling dear old aunt Maria might actually stay here for good,” I hop over the counter before grabbing a can of Coke out of the fridge. I prop me feet up on the counter, but Tommy knocks them down.

            “You know the rules, kid, no stompy boots on the counter.” I roll my eyes. He wipes off the place where my shoes were before organizing the lotto tickets. “Anything interesting happen at school today?”

            “Eh, same old same old. The Heathers were bitches, Veronica was desperately trying to keep up, and I got tripped in the hallway,” Tommy frowns.

            “God, those girls really need to get humbled,” He spits. 

            “You don’t need to tell me. They constantly act so… self-superior, as if their power doesn’t depend solely on whether or not everyone else hates themselves to believe they’re inferior to three teenage girls who are the definition of ‘peaked in high school’,” I squeeze the soda can in my hand, the metal crunching under the pressure. “They need to be more than humbled. The Heathers deserve to be dealt as much pain as they served,”

            “Watch it, kid, you’re sounding a bit homicidal,” Tommy jokes. If only he knew. 

            “It wouldn’t matter anyway. I don’t think they can die-- they’re like a Hydra. If you kill one of the Heathers, three more will grow in her place,” I sigh. Tommy looks concerned.

            “Y/n, you don’t actually want to kill them, right?” I hesitate. The silence makes Tommy worry.

            “I wouldn’t exactly lose sleep if one of them did die,” I reply nonchalantly. “It would be like a public service. Similar to killing the black mold that grows in the girl’s showers,” Tommy looks at me for a second, his expression unreadable, before turning back to his counter. 

            “That’s morbid,” he says. “You know that? You sound like a killer in the making.”

            “Sometimes bad people deserve bad things.”

            “You’re absolutely not helping your case,” Tommy laughs. I can feel someone watching me. It’s an odd feeling, but I brush it off.

            “New topic?” I ask. Tommy nods.

            A mischievous grin grows on his face. “You got a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner? All of the above?” he asks hopefully.

            “No, Tommy, and don’t get your hopes up,” I chuckle, before standing up and admiring the neon sign outside.

            “Oh come on, there has to be someone. You can’t possibly go to that hellhole every day and not see at least one hot person!” Tommy groans.

            “Everyone at Westerburg is either evil or boring. No one interests me and I’m not interesting to anyone. Plus, my attention is mainly focused on getting through the day in one piece, not getting laid.” I neglect to mention the stranger I saw in the Cafe yesterday. He was pretty hot, and didn’t seem to be a douchebag-- in fact, he shot two of the douchiest douchebags with blank bullets. A real rarity at Westerburg.

            “God, you need to get out more. I see some pretty people pass through here occasionally, I’m going to start pawning you off,” he jokes.

            “Oh, god, no,” I joined in on his laughter.

            “Yup, I’m going to give every hot person your photo and your address until you finally score yourself some arm candy,” Tommy can barely form sentences through his laughter.

            “I’m gonna to get murdered if you do that, Tom,” I giggle. 

“             And that would be damn shame,” A voice calls from across the counter. I look up to see the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s the same guy from the Cafe-- although in the bright convenience store lighting he looks more like a ghost than a man. His jawline looked sharp enough to slice me in half, his cheekbones high and defined. His hair was gorgeous and his teeth were really, really nice. 

            “Uh, yeah, that would totally s-suck,” I choked. Tommy shot me the most horrified look I’ve ever seen. “I’ve, uh, seen you around. That stunt you pulled in the Cafe was wicked, man, seriously.”

            “Hey, it was a public service,” He smirked. Tommy gave me a ‘holy-shit-I’ll-leave-you-two-alone’ look before disappearing in the isles across the room. I could see him peeking through the cereal boxes. “I’m Jason Dean, but most people call me JD.” He offers his hand for me to shake.

             “Y/n, Y/n Ln,” I grip his hand firmly and try not to have a breakdown over the contact. “Y’know, there are much less extreme ways to get people to fuck off than, well, shooting them.”

              “The extreme always seems to make an impression, though, doesn’t it?” His voice was a little bit lower and he leaned in a little bit closer. Tommy was freaking out across the aisle, his eyes wide as his hand raked through his greasy hair. 

            “That it does,” I grin. “There are quite a few people in that school that deserve certain... extremities,” 

            “I think you’re right,” Jason smirked once again. I kept my composure as best I could. “Speaking of extremities, I saw you and Kurt in the hallway last week,” My face is lit ablaze as I recall the incident. Kurt had been continuously pestering me the entire day, and eventually I reached my limit.

            “I guess they aren’t joking when they say the chin is the knockout button,” Jason seems impressed, although I can’t really tell because looking him in the eyes seems like a death sentence. “Landed me three days detention, though. That sucked. Although I guess it can’t compare to whatever they’re dealing you,” At this point, one of the regulars began approaching the front doors. Tommy sprinted out before they got in, seemingly explaining that my entire love life depends on whether or not I can play it cool.

            “Eh, what can I say. I sort of dug myself a grave there,” I spoke without thinking.

            “The only graves that should’ve been dug are Kurt and Ram’s. My one critique? Use real bullets next time,” I froze. Why the fuck would I say that? I mean, I’m not wrong but I doubt JD would stick around after--

            “I like the way you think,” JD laughs, his ears tinted pink. Jason looks at me, and for a moment, I look right back. There’s something behind his eyes, something festering and enticing. I wonder if my eyes communicate anything. “I’ll see you around, Y/n L/n,” 

            “And I’ll see you, Jason Dean,” With that he winked at me, spun on his heel, and walked out the front door. Tommy practically sprinted across the room as I released every muscle I’d been tensing. I slowly melted onto the floor. Laying on the tile with my eyes trained on the bright lights overhead.

            “Oh my god,” Tommy breathed. “Oh my fucking god that was-- oh my god.”

            “I know,”

             “Did you see him? He’s like a greek god,”

            “I know,”

            “And he was totally into you, like, totally,”

            “I should’ve given him my address. I wouldn’t mind getting murdered by him.” I say breathlessly. Tommy sits on the counter and looks down at me.

            “I think I need to teach you how to talk to boys,” Tommy sighs, shock still lingering on his face.

            “Pssh, I can talk to boys just fine,” I retort.

            “You almost collapsed when you saw him,” he says flatly.

            “That was--”

            “I thought you were going to pass out when he told you his name,”

            “But I--”

            “I genuinely believed you were going to vomit when he shook your hand,”

            “Alright! I give! I can’t talk to boys! You caught me! Lock me up and never let me embarrass myself like that again!” I surrendered, throwing my arms in the air before letting them collapse over my face. “He probably thinks I’m a freak,”

            “Are you joking? He was more smitten than you were!” This caught my attention, and I tore my arms away from my eyes. 

            “Huh? Elaborate!” I snapped.

            “You seriously didn’t notice? He’d been staring at you since you stepped foot in here, didn’t you see him? At first I thought it was weird, but then I realized he was smoking hot so I decided I’d let it slide,” “Comforting,” Sarcasm drips from my words. “Y’know serial killers and stalkers can be hot, too.” I rolled my eyes.

“             I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of ‘I wouldn’t mind getting mur--’,”

            “Alright, Tommy, we get it.” I cut him off in embarrassment. “Please continue.”

            “He comes in here a lot, so I knew he was alright. He was beet red the entire time you were talking. Didn’t you see the way he was in a perpetual state of stupid smiling? Dude, he was definitely into you and really bad at hiding it,” Tommy concluded.

            I smiled a big, dumb smile. I didn’t notice the fact that he was nervous, so he probably didn’t notice that I was dying, right? 

            “Tommy, I think we might have a keeper.”

            “Thank god, I don’t think I could stand to see you go to Prom alone. That would be too depressing, even for me,” Tommy enthused. I propped my feet against the edge of the counter, staring at the tips of my boots. For the first time in a long time, Tommy is silent. I can’t get his eyes out of my head. Then again, I don’t know if I want to. 

_________

#jason dean #heathers #jason dean x reader #a sickly satisfaction series #irl dont look #irl don't look #veronica sawyer #heather mcnamara #heather chandler #heather duke

[pipedream-parrish]

Happy 34th birthday, Twinyards

read on AO3

i

It is Aaron’s 14th birthday and he has just found out that he has a brother - a twin brother, an identical twin brother, who looks exactly like him and might just understand him, too. His mom didn’t do anything for his birthday - she hasn’t since he was little, or maybe those long-forgotten memories were really just dreams that have managed to worm their way so deep into his psyche that he’s accepted them as truth. The kids at school sang to him, which was fine, but Aaron can’t help but think maybe now it will be different. Maybe once he meets this brother of his, then they can celebrate their birthdays together. Maybe they can give each other presents, and eat cake, and blow out the candles using the combined forces of their breath. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

(Andrew spends this birthday choking down cake that Cas got him, trying to hide the fresh marks on his arm, and thinking about the best way to keep his mysterious brother as far away from him as possible)

((one month later, Aaron receives a letter in the mail. He couldn’t tell you everything it said - he just knows that all of these maybes have just been thrown into the middle of a busy highway to be crushed under uncaring tires.))

ii

Its Aaron’s 15th birthday and his mother has celebrated by beating the shit out of him and then throwing a random assortment of pills from the bottom of her purse in his direction as an apology, and Aaron cannot help but think that maybe it won’t have to be like this anymore. He thinks about what Andrew said (Andrew, who really does look just like him, and who seemed so angry about Tilda, and seemed to believe that Aaron didn’t deserve, that he deserved good things--) had said to him, thinks about how maybe when Andrew moves his mom will stop it, maybe it’ll be alright, maybe nothing will hurt anymore and everything will be okay and he’ll have a brother. It’ll be the two of them against the world, and Aaron may not know this other boy all that well, but he promised to protect him, so that must mean something, right? Even if before that he said he didn’t want anything to do with Aaron, he changed his mind, and thats what matters, right? Right? And so when Aaron blows out the birthday candles that he bought for himself at eh convenience store the night before, he wishes for his brother to come home soon, and for them to be a family like they were supposed to be. Like he deserves.

((Six months later, Tilda is dead and Aaron has stopped believing in family.))

iii

It is Andrews’s 16th birthday and he has not spoken more than two words to his brother for most of the year, but Nicky tries to force them to do something, to celebrate, to be normal teenagers for once. Andrew leaves halfway through the elaborate dinner that Nicky has prepared, and pretends not to see the sad look he aims at his retreating back. Pretends that he doesn’t care what Nicky thinks of him, what Aarons thinks of him. Pretends that he stopped caring about Cass, that actually he didn’t care about that, either. Pretends and pretends and pretends, and convinces everyone but himself. 

((He’s not so great at lying to himself yet. He’ll get better with age.)) 

Late that night, after he’s heard everyone else going to bed, he sneaks downstairs and steals a slice of the double-chocolate cake that Nicky got them. There are already a couple of slices out from where Nicky and Aaron had some, so hopefully, this moment of weakness will go unnoticed. 

(Aaron spends his 16th birthday sad and mourning, refusing to look his brother in the eye. When he blows out the birthday candles with no help from a magical brother, he wishes that he never met Andrew in the first place. Not that he believes in magic or wishes or anything good at all, anymore. He barely has a bite of his cake before leaving the table. He, too, pretends not to see Nicky’s teary eyes as he leaves him standing alone in the kitchen, the remnants of a wasted attempt at love scattered all around him)

((he, too, is not so great at lying to himself yet. He, too, will get better with age))

(Nevertheless, when he hears Andrew come downstairs in the dead of night, he creeps into the hallway to watch his petty theft)

((He never mentions it.))

iv

It is Andrew’s 17th birthday and he is so high off the ground that he never even realizes the date.

Or maybe he does and just forgets.

The meds are still new, and he’s not used to them yet. Not used to the loudness, and brightness, and plastered on a smile. His cheeks hurt all the time now - he is constantly working muscles that have not had much use, the last couple of years 

(the last couple of lifetimes)

Needless to say, it is Andrew’s 17th birthday and he does not even realize it, and instead, he spends it in his room, his precious room that has a lock that works, coming apart at all his frying edges. Boys like him were never meant to grow old. Boys like him were never meant to last. And so he lays there and shakes uncontrollably, and laughs, too, tells himself this is fine, he’s fine it’s all fine and knows better than to believes it. Perhaps it is a mercy, that he eventually gets used to the meds. 

Perhaps it is not.

(Aaron doesn’t celebrate his birthday, either. Instead, he picks up extra shifts at Edens and goes to bed early. 

He cannot wait to leave this fucking house)

v

It is Aaron’s 18th birthday, meaning that he is a legal adult. He finds this funny. He has always been an adult; he was an adult when he was four and creeping across the house on silent feet to steal crackers from the pantry because mom forgot to feed him; he was an adult when he was 10 and forging his mothers signature on school papers, and making excuses for why she couldn’t come into parent-teacher conference night; he was an adult when he was sitting across from his reflection in a juvenile detention facility, and promised protection. One more birthday doesn’t mean shit.

(Andrew agrees. He, too, has been an adult for as long as he can remember.)

((Still, when Nicky slips cards under each of their doors wishing them a happy birthday and telling them he’s proud of them, and that he hopes that adulthood treats them right, well. If Aaron squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can to prevent the tears from escaping, and if Andrew tares it up into a million pieces because it almost makes him feel something, then no one needs to know))

vi

It is November 4th, and the newly-coined monsters are in Columbia, just like they are most weekends. They make the same stops as always, go to the same club, the same restaurant. 

Never once is the word birthday mentioned.

vii

It is Andrew’s 20th birthday and he is about to make one of the worst mistakes of his life. For now, he sits against the windowsill, watching his smoke dissipate into the afternoon air, absently listening to the sounds of Nicky and Aaron’s video game wash over him. He’s grinning, as is usually is these days, and if he was capable of having a long-lasting coherent thought, he would want to carve that grin off his face.

Alas, he is not capable of long-lasting coherent thought. Oh well. Perhaps it’s for the best.

Renee got him a gift. Silly Renee. Always so nice, so kind, even to monsters like him. Hasn’t she learned better than that by now? It seems not.

When Nicky receives a phone call that leaves him in a panic, it is almost enough to garner Andrew’s attention. 

Almost.

When he leaves the room in a rush only to come beach with Neil, the enigma, the hallucination, the rabbit, in tow behind him, Andrew actually does start to pay attention. Only a little though. 

When Neil pulls him aside, and asks for the unimaginable, and then manages to make it seem like a good idea, well. Andrew’s interest has been peaked, and he agrees. Why not? It might be fun. Might be, might be, might be.

(It’s not. It’s not fun at all, and if nothing else then Andrew is finally allowed to leave that smile behind for good. Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Andrew, happy birthday to me!)

((Aaron spends his birthday playing video games and wondering why the new kid holds such sway over his brother. When he looks back on that day, he will not remember any of that. He will only remember that that was the day everything went wrong, and he was unable to fix it.))

viii

It is Andrew’s 21st birthday, and it might just be a good one. No alarm wakes him up in the morning, even though he’s sure he set it last night, meaning he gets to sleep in. When he wakes up it’s to Neil bustling about the dorm room, clearly searching for something.

“Practice?” Andrew asks and is told in no uncertain terms that they will be blowing it off for the day. Yes, today is shaping up to be a good one.

Instead, they go out driving, blazing down empty roads as fast as the mas will take them, eating up millage and gas money and caring at all. Neil rolls down the window and lets out victorious whoops into the still afternoon, the wind flushing his cheeks and tousling his hair. Andrew almost thinks something disgustingly sappy about that but is able to rain in his own brain just in time. 

They got greasy diner food for lunch, and Andrew orders a massive ice cream Sunday that Neil doesn’t comment on. They go back to Fox Tower and lounge around their dorm, kissing and smoking and playing video games. They have pancakes for dinner, and Kevin doesn’t bother them once about going to tonight’s practice. Andrew goes to bed full and sated, and almost, almost, happy. It’s a good birthday.

((the next day at therapy, Aaron complains that he didn’t get to skip practice yesterday. Andrew shrugs and says that he should take notes for next year. It’s almost an invitation. Almost, but not quite.))

ix

It is Aarons’s 22nd birthday, and he takes a leaf out of Andrew’s book and skips practice. He and Katelyn drive into town, and walk up and down the streets, popping into stores at random and picking out delightfully ugly things for the other to buy. In one shop, Katelyn shows Aaron a shirt made from a disgusting green fabric with the gaudiest floral pattern he’s ever seen. In another, Aaron finds shimmering, sparkle filled pink and purple shoes with a six-inch heel. They both nearly get sick from laughing. That night, they go out to the fanciest restaurant they can afford and get wine drunk. Aaron tells Katelyn that he loves her, which is something that he’s told her a million times before, but that doesn’t stop it from mattering. This will always matter. She will always matter. He looks at her, just looks at her, and thinks about how lucky he is to have this. And he thinks about Andrew, just for a second, curses him for keeping her from Aaron. But then, for an even shorter second, the thought occurs to him. I hope he’s as happy right now with Neil as I am with her. 

((Andrew may not show it the same way, but he is. He is.))

x

It is their 25 birthday now (which it longer than either of them thought they would live), and after years of therapy and working through their issues, Aaron has decided once again that he wants a brother. And so he books a flight to Boston, and buys a ticket to Andrews game, and watches his brother play exy on their birthday. Their birthday. Sometimes he still forgets that they are a “they” now. He'll still say my birthday, my mom, my cousin, my family. But it's not just his, and so he meets Andrew at the player’s exit after the game and forces him to go to dinner with him. And they spend their birthday together, just the two of them, for the first time since they were born. And its-

Well, it’s not bad. It's kind of nice, actually. Stilted, at first, and undoubtedly awkward, but. 

But they’re still brothers, even after everything. They share family and history and most of their DNA, so it seems right that they also share a dinner. And they talk, about Andrew’s pro team and Aarons residency, and about halfway through Aaron realizes that even though he was the one who forced this, Andrew isn’t trying to stop it. He came with him to dinner, and he’s talked more in the last hour then Aaron thinks he ever has before, and Aaron realizes that he wants this too. Andrew wants a brother too. They part ways outside - Andrew doesn’t offer to drive him back to his hotel or to let him stay at his apartment, but that’s ok.

Because Andrew wants this too. 

Andrew wants this too.

epilogue 

It is the Minyard twins’ 34th birthday, and as has become a tradition they are each awoken by a phone call from Nicky. Aaron only grumbles for a moment before Katelyn is handing his phone to him and he’s picking up. Andrew takes longer, turning over and burying his face in Neil’s neck for a second or a minute or a year, before finally grabbing his phone. To be fair, it’s about 2 hours earlier for him than for his brother. When he was younger he would hang up, and Nicky would call back, and he’d hang up again, until around the third call when he would finally give in and answer and phone. He doesn’t hang up anymore. He supposes that he’s grown. It’s a facetime call, so he’s greeted with Nicky’s over-enthusiastic smile and Aarons bedhead that looks so much like his own. He props himself up on some pillows so that he’s nearly in a sitting position, and gives a halfhearted wave. Beside him, Neil stays lying down, curling himself into Andrew’s side. Andrew absently starts carding his fingers through his hair. Nicky starts to talk, telling them about the business, and the adoption process, and the cute thing that his and Erik’s dog did. King jumps up onto Andrew’s chest, and then there’s a lot of cooing over how cute she is. She starts to lick at Andrew’s temple, which makes everyone laugh and Andrew rolls his eyes. It’s ok. He doesn’t really mind. Aaron talks about the hospital, and then his toddler (who is really more of a kid now, she’s getting so big holy shit) bursts into the room, climbing up onto the bed. She says hi to her Uncle Andy (Neil taught her to say that when she was a baby, and it tuck. Again, Andrew doesn’t really mind) and Uncle Neil, and her cousins Nicky and Erik. they talk more, Andrew waking up and partaking in the conversion, occasionally mouthing things to Neil in Russian to make him laugh. He loves it when Neil laughs (he’s not so concerned with not thinking sappy things anymore).

It’s a good start to a good day. They order take out and eat it on the floor, just like they do every year. Neil gets him a cake, and he sings happy birthday, just like they do every year. 

A plane ride away, Aaron and Katelyn hire a babysitter and go out to dinner, just like they do every year. Katelyn gets him a loudly collared tie, just like she does every year.

It’s a good day for both boys (who are now much closer to men), but more than that, it is a good day for both brothers. For that is undoubtedly what they are now. Brothers. 

That night, they both get a text from Betsy. It says Happy birthday, my lovely boys. I hope this year treats you well. 

And then it does.

It does.

thanks for reading! if you reblog i’ll love you forever :)

#everything i write is very andrew centric ig i have a brand #i just really love him and want him to be happy! #is that so wrong? #aftg #aftg fanfic #aftg fic #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #neil josten #katelyn #twinyards #andreil #tw self harm mention #tw drug abuse #tw abuse #tw neglect #its the twinyards yall what did you expect #tw medication #?? #if there's anything else please please please let me know! #oh look i wrote a thing #my writing

[magniloquent-raven]

What Is It I Feel

Harringrove Week of Love: Day 2

Love Potion || Over-stimulation || Mythological Creatures AU

Rated: E

Read on Ao3

“Shit, Billy are you alright?!” Steve is pale, Billy notices, he always goes pale. Purses his lips and stares, a thousand things hiding behind that expression that Billy can even begin to name. He looks oddly human like that. Worried. 

Fussing, like Billy’s one of his damn kids. 

He snorts, and adjusts his grip on his side. The drying blood on his knuckles itches, and he tries to focus on that rather than the searing pain lancing through him every time he inhales. “Yeah. Clearly,” he grunts. “You gonna let me in, or what?”

He sways, shoulder knocking against the doorframe, and Steve’s hand shoots out to steady him. 

“Yeah. Shit. Yeah, sorry, I—come—come here.” 

“That’s the plan, baby.”

Steve rolls his eyes, flushing. He’s had his tongue up Billy’s asshole but he still blushes like a goddamn virgin when Billy runs his mouth outside of the bedroom. 

He pulls Billy inside. The movement jostles torn skin, but before he can complain Steve’s lips are on his, hot and insistent. 

Billy kicks the door closed behind them as Steve leads him further into his apartment, a hand on the back of his neck, never breaking their liplock for more than a moment to breathe. 

And, god, Billy’s kissed a lot of people, but Steve is by far his favourite. He takes his time, even now, when his poorly-concealed anxiety makes his hands shake, fumbling with the buttons on Billy’s shirt, and Billy smells like acrid, greasy smoke and monster guts. He kisses Billy like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

It’s a lie, of course, but one Billy is happy to let himself fall for, over and over again.

Steve’s mouth drops to Billy’s neck, goes right for the spot behind his ear that makes his knees go weak, pulls a groan from deep in his chest. The jolt of pleasure washes away small aches, the bruises on his knuckles, shallow scrapes up his shins. 

He grabs the front of Steve’s shirt, and pushes him back onto the nearest surface. Which turns out to be his bed, thankfully. He falls with a soft thump, and Billy is in his lap the second his ass hits fancy cotton.

“You’re going to ruin my sheets again,” Steve complains, squirming under him, but not pushing him off, instead grabbing his hips and leaning up to seal their mouths together again.

Heat coils in his gut, the familiar syrupy feeling of arousal warming him through. Steve tastes like honey and open air, sweet, clean. Billy’s had pixies before, and they always taste a little earthy, but Steve is...different. Better. The first time Billy tasted him he nearly drained him dry. It’s a miracle Steve still fucking talks to him, let alone lets him feed. 

Billy pulls back a hair, just enough to respond. “Buy better sheets then, rich boy.” Steve stares up at him silently, eyes still hazy from their liplock. He blinks. Furrows his brow.

“Pretty sure blood and monster guts would ruin any sheets,” he responds after a second, and his gaze flickers down, to Billy’s bare torso, the gashes and smears of ichor. “What were you even fighting this time? Shit.”

Billy buries his fingers in Steve’s hair, and tugs his head back, looking him in the eye. Steve goes hazy again, and he whines when Billy tightens his grip. “Do you want to talk,” he leans in, til his lips brush Steve’s, their breath mingling, “or do you want to fuck me?” 

His ribs ache, even the short break was enough for his pain to resurface. He needs more, and he needs it now. 

“Shit, yeah, sorry.” Steve’s fingers skim the least battered part of his torso, gently, as he reaches up to slip Billy’s shirt off. 

The touch makes him shiver. “Hurry up, before I die in your lap.”

Steve sighs. It’s a quiet thing that Billy doesn’t have time to analyze because Steve’s fingers drop to his belt buckle, and his lips brush Billy’s jaw, and suddenly Billy has better things to focus on. 

Like Steve’s nimble fingers, making quick work of his zipper, dipping below his waistband to push his jeans down, pressing into his shoulder-blades when he flips their positions, guiding Billy onto his back so Steve can pull his pants off the rest of the way. They hit the floor somewhere near the doorway, flung across the room once Billy’s finally free of them. 

“Quicker than last time,” Billy laughs breathlessly.

Steve huffs, “You’d think someone whose life depends on people getting into his pants would wear ones that are easier to get into.”

“Now where’s the fun in that.” 

He looks good in those jeans. And Steve looks adorable when he’s struggling to peel them off, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, brow furrowed with intense concentration as he grapples with the wrinkled denim bunched up around Billy’s knees. It’s a win/win situation. 

For Billy, anyways. Steve always acts like these jeans are the bane of his existence. Like Billy doesn’t know exactly how often Steve stares at his denim-clad thighs.

Steve rolls his eyes, leaning over to grab lube from his nightstand. “Getting to this part quicker, numbnuts.” He waves the near-empty bottle pointedly. 

“Pff, whatever,” he scoffs as Steve coats his fingers, taking his goddamn time about it. “Are you gonna get to it or not.” Billy squirms, his bruises throbbing, sheets catching on half-scabbed cuts on his back. He spreads his knees and raises his eyebrows. 

A spike of arousal washes over Billy. Steve’s arousal. It was a low simmer before, like sitting next to a space heater, but this hits like the heat coming off a forest fire. Billy closes his eyes and breathes it in. Relishes it. How it smells. Like the salty musk of Steve’s sweat-slicked skin, but sweeter. How it tingles under his skin. Washes away the ache in his muscles. A warm bath has nothing on this.

He inhales it slowly, relaxes back against Steve’s soft cotton sheets. 

“Yeah,” Steve says after a beat, voice low and rough. He clears his throat. 

And he gets to it. 

In the beginning Billy kept track of how many times Steve let him feed. Kept a tally in his head. He’s not sure when he stopped counting, but he couldn’t tell you now, how many times they’ve done this. 

More times that Billy expected. Less than he wants. 

Enough that Steve’s fingers are as familiar as his own.

He’s sure and capable, massaging Billy open with practiced ease. It’s not long before Billy’s sweating and panting, fisting the sheets at his side and feeling stronger for it. Every time Steve brushes his prostate, every time his arousal spikes when Billy moans, every thrust of dexterous fingers, it all feeds the heat building in his belly. The warmth washing over him, spreading to his limbs, tingling in his fingers, mending his body. 

The bruises are fading, he knows, he can feel the pain melting away, every time he tenses, jerks, breathes deep, it hurts a little less. 

“Steve,” he groans, feeling out blindly with one trembling leg. His foot lands on Steve’s shoulder. “Steve. Fuckin—fuck—get your dick in me—god—right now.” 

He vaguely registers mumbled cursing and fabric rustling, Steve moving up, warm between his thighs. His fingers slide out. The tip of his cock brushes Billy’s lube-slicked hole, slowly. Always so slowly. Always careful. 

Billy lifts his head a fraction to glance up at Steve, kneeling between his legs. He’s got his hand around his cock, guiding it, and he’s watching Billy’s asshole like it contains all the secrets in the universe. His lips parted, brow furrowed under the bangs flopping across his forehead, and his gaze so focused. 

He takes Billy’s breath away.

And then he does it again, with a gentle thrust of his hips. 

Billy’s head falls limply against the sheets, his whole back arches. The stretch hurts just a little, Steve inside him, the wrent skin along his ribs tugging as he writhes, faint, throbbing pain, but it’s nothing compared to the pleasure. 

Steve’s palm caresses his side, skimming the cuts still slow to heal. “Okay?” he asks. 

Suddenly very aware of the rise and fall of his chest, the shallow breaths he takes while Steve’s warm hand moves with him, Billy exhales through his nose, deep, slow, eyes shut, and he nods. 

“Billy, I need you to say it.”

The soft tone makes him shiver. “Yeah,” he sighs. “C’mon, pretty boy,” he taps Steve’s ass with his foot. “Fuck me.”

Steve snorts. “Alright.” He leans down, carefully rearranging their legs, and propping himself up on his palms. Their chests brush, and Steve kisses his collarbone. “C’mere,” he murmurs. 

Heart racing, flipping, tripping over itself, Billy tilts his head up, and seals their mouths together. He tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair, cupping the back of his head, keeping him close as he starts to move his hips. 

“Billy,” he moans against Billy’s lips, “You need to—ah—take more.”

The realization is like an ice cube slipping down Billy’s throat. Steve’s right, he hasn’t directly fed enough. Just fucking isn’t going to cut it, but…

God, part of him just wanted Steve to kiss him because he wanted to.

He takes more. Breathes Steve in. Honey and sweet grass and syrupy summer heat.

His side knits together, skin closing up, and he gasps, groaning into their kiss. It’s always a weird feeling, but the aftermath is pure fucking bliss. The pain is gone. There’s nothing but the slow drag of Steve’s cock in him, the press of his chest, thick hair scraping Billy’s newly healed skin, his hands, his mouth.

Billy’s dizzy with it all, the rush. The heat. 

He whines, as Steve’s hips snap, over and over, into him, skin against the back of his thighs, it builds, and it builds, and then the fizzing, sparking heat comes to a head. He arches, mouth open in a silent scream, his vision whiting out. 

Through the haze, he feels Steve start to pull out. He wraps his trembling legs around Steve’s waist, holding him in place, heels digging into the soft curve of his ass. “Keep going,” he growls, still panting, boneless, barely able to keep his legs up. 

Steve stares down at him, his mouth slack. 

He keeps going.

There isn’t a single scratch on Billy anymore. He’s taken as much as he needs to. But he still wants. Wants more. Wants Steve. The way his cock drags over that sweet spot over and over, sending sparks tingling up Billy’s spine, feeling the heat of him everywhere. 

He keens, loudly, head thrown back when Steve pushes in to the hilt, grinding his hips slowly, purposefully. The sparks catch, burn, Billy lights up with it, feels it in his throat. 

A soft touch to his chin makes him jerk, whine, and he blinks up at Steve through a blur of tears. Steve’s fingers caress up his cheek, palm cupping his jaw, brushing away damp curls stuck to his face. 

The touch is fleeting, but he feels it etched into his skin even as Steve fists the sheets, hands bracketing Billy’s head, not touching him anymore but close enough to tease with the warmth radiating from him. 

Steve picks up the pace, shallow thrusts drawing trembling, punched-out groans from Billy’s lips. His head is swimming, vision going spotty, tears rolling down his temples as he arches, squirms, whines under Steve’s touch. 

‘Til his hips stutter, breath hot in Billy’s ear, one long, gasping moan vibrating between them as he spills into Billy and collapses, boneless on top of him.

His softening cock slips out of Billy, leaving him with an absurd pang of loneliness and come dripping down his asscheek.  

The room goes quiet but for their ragged breathing. Steve wiggles a little, his forehead sticking to Billy’s shoulder, hair tickling as he moves. 

“Mm,” Steve hums, “I kissed it better?” 

Billy chuckles quietly, and his hand moves of its own accord, fingertips tracing up and down Steve’s spine. “Yeah. Good as new, baby.” 

Better than, in fact. He’s buzzing with borrowed life, glowing with it. Feels like he could run a marathon and still have energy to spare. 

Steve nuzzles into his neck, breath ghosting over Billy’s rapidly jumping pulsepoint. “Glad I’m better than a bandaid,” he murmurs. 

And...it’s time to go. This is about as much as his heart can take. Feeling good and having Steve draped across his chest and whispering adorable nonsense in his ear is not a good combo. Puts him at risk of saying something really stupid. 

He slips out from under Steve.

Sex always makes Steve tired, but especially when Billy’s had to feed on him like this. Which is a blessing, really, this way Billy doesn’t have to see the puppy-dog eyes follow him out the door. And Steve doesn’t get to see how much he hesitates. How fucking hard it is to tell himself it’s better this way. 

As he shuffles to the edge of the bed Steve’s hand waves vaguely in his direction, grasping at air as he grumbles, half-asleep already. It’s cute. And breaks Billy’s heart a little.

He brushes his fingers through Steve’s hair, pushing stray locks off his forehead. A moment of weakness, but Steve probably won’t remember, so...it’s fine. 

“Thanks, pretty boy,” he murmurs, before he pulls away completely.

He really should shower before he leaves. He does sometimes, and this was a particularly messy job—Steve’s sheets are definitely ruined again. But he can’t stand hanging around Steve’s apartment another goddamn second, surrounded by pictures of him and the people he actually cares about, soaking up even more of his scent...it’s already going to linger because of the stupid little stunt he pulled while they were fucking, he doesn’t need to wash with Steve’s products too. 

So, he pulls the crusted remains of his clothes back on and slips out the door, thanking the damn gods that it’s dark out and he lives nearby.

He’s hanging out at Hop’s grimy dive bar the next day when shit hits the fan. 

Really, his life has just been a series of shitstorms, bu this is different. 

It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, too early to be drinking, Hop said, but he gave him a beer anyways. There are a few other people milling around, there usually are. This place is never actually empty. Perks of being the only bar in the area that caters specifically to fae.

Billy’s about halfway through his beer when something collides with his side, slopping his drink all over the counter. 

“Hey, what the fu—Steve?” 

He’s clinging to Billy, his face smushed up against the bare skin of his chest. For once Billy kind of regrets how few buttons he does up, Steve can definitely hear his heartbeat right now, and...well, he’s feeling exposed suddenly.

When he looks up though, that’s when Billy realizes something is definitely wrong. When he looks up with blown pupils, and rosy cheeks, and that dumb lovestruck look that used to make Billy break shit when he saw Steve aiming it at Nancy. 

“Steve, are you—”

Their teeth clack together, and Billy jumps back, wide-eyed, skittish. 

“Billy,” Steve whines, “Lemme…” His hands are clumsy when he cups Billy’s cheeks and tries to kiss him again.

Billy pushes Steve away, plants his palms on Steve’s shoulders and shoves. “Harrington, are you fucking drunk? What the fuck,” he snaps, spooked, voice cracking. 

Big, pretty brown eyes go all gooey, sad, red-rimmed like he’s going to fucking cry. Billy’s never seen Steve cry. 

Not like this anyways, he’s seen him gag on dick and tear up but this is different. Way different. This is very much not something Billy knows how to handle. 

“Billy, why don’t you love me?” 

Neither is that. 

He can’t even begin to answer that question. For so many reasons. So, so many. 

He knows Steve is a clingy drunk sometimes, but this is...not him. Can’t be him. It has to be some kind of spell. Potion. Any number of weird curses could’ve fucked with his head. 

Steve’s bottom lip trembles, and his hands go to his elbows, hugging himself. 

And suddenly Billy’s too distracted to do his damn job and think of a solution, because watching a tear dribble from the corner of one of Steve’s ridiculously beautiful doe-eyes is gutting him in ways he didn’t expect. He’s literally held his own guts in his hands before, and it turns out he’d rather do that again than go through this.

“Hargrove, what the hell did you do?”

Billy damn near jumps out of his skin. For a big dude Hop is sneaky. Or Billy’s just very distracted right now.

“Nothing!” he snaps, only sparing a glance for Hop, to glare at him, before his gaze is dragged back to Steve. Who’s also glaring at Hop.

“Don’t yell at him,” Steve squawks, still sniffling, apparently unbothered by Hopper and Billy gaping at him. “He doesn’t like it. And I don’t like when he’s sad.”

What.

It shouldn’t make his heart flutter but it does. And he mentally slaps himself. Turns to Hop. “Has he had anything to drink today?”

“I’m not drunk.”

“S’far as I know, he just got here, kid.” 

Billy rubs his forehead. “Okay, well, someone needs to call Buckley.” 

A few hours later, Billy is poring over dusty old books in the back room, Steve plastered to his back. Besides the fact that Steve’s hair tickling his ear is very uncomfortable, it’s...nice. The heat of him, the strong hands slipped under his shirt and pressed to his belly, the way being bracketed by his thighs makes Billy feel…

No. Nope. 

He can’t get anything done like this. His heart in his throat. His pulse stuttering every time Steve hums or rubs little circles into his skin, or smells like home, and—fuck. But he can’t tell him to get off, because every time he pulls away, or asks Steve to sit somewhere else, Steve gets all weepy, which is equally fucking distracting.

“Dingus, what the hell did you get yourself into now?” Robin yells before she’s even in the room, barging in a moment later looking like a grumpy freckled storm cloud, her eyes widen when she spots Steve. 

“Hey, Robin!” Steve crows in Billy’s ear. “Wait, why are you mad? Did I do something wrong?” 

Billy doesn’t have to see the sad little pout to know it’s happening. He feels it in his soul. Without thinking, Billy skims his fingers across Steve’s knuckles, covering one of his hands with his own. “No, you didn’t. She’s not mad at you.” He glares at Robin pointedly. She raises her eyebrows.

Steve sighs, melting against Billy, nuzzling his shoulder, and Robin’s eyebrows climb even higher. “Mm...I love you,” he murmurs into Billy’s shirt. 

It’s the fourth time he’s said that. Always so casually, gentle and earnest, and it lances right through Billy every goddamn time. Reaches in and grabs ahold, a warm grip around his heart, only to crush it a second later. 

He grinds his teeth. 

“So, uhh,” Robin’s staring at the ceiling, chewing the inside of her cheek. Her face is doing something weird. “What seems to be the problem, then?”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Billy grits out, and gestures vigorously, to himself, to Steve’s arms around him. “He must’ve gotten hit with...some kind of fuckin’, love spell—” he spits the word like a curse, “—or whatever the fuck. And detection spells are your area of expertise, so get on with it.”

Robin blinks at him. Opens her mouth. Closes it. “Would it kill you to say please.”

It takes her far too long to get the spell ready. Especially considering Hop has everything she needed right here in the bar. Paranoid bastard calls the trunk in his office an emergency stash, but there’s enough shit in there to run a whole other damn business. 

Point is, Billy sits around for far too long waiting on Robin to mash some herbs together and do an infusion ritual that takes five goddamn minutes. He’s pretty sure she’s dragging her heels on purpose.

Maybe he should have said please, this is torture.

An eternity later, Billy manages to pry Steve off of him without making him cry, and gently pushes him towards Robin. “Steve, c’mon,” he murmurs when he pulls away and gets a wide-eyed pout aimed at him. He aches. Everywhere. But the only thing worse than having to deal with Steve’s disappointment is dealing with Steve’s affection and knowing it isn’t real. “Just. Go. Let her do her thing, please.”

Steve furrows his brow. “Fine. You know I can’t say no to you,” he sighs.

Billy did not know that. And that brings up some terrifying and uncomfortable questions, actually.

He watches Steve cross the room. The dejected slump of his shoulders, and the way he fiddles with his hair. When he sidles up to Robin she shoots Billy a look he can’t read. She leans in to have a hushed conversation with Steve, before she presses a steaming mug into his hands. 

The whole thing doesn’t sit right.

He stands, suddenly, restless and feeling suffocated in the cluttered room. He doesn’t say anything, or even look at Robin and Steve before he walks out. 

“Hop,” he calls, collapsing into a rickety chair at the bar. “Hop, I need to be drunk right now.” 

Unfortunately, he is not drunk. And the longer it takes Robin to explain what she found out, the more he wishes he was. 

What he’s getting so far is that Steve is, in fact, experiencing some kind of magical influence, but it…feels too organic to be something a person cast. Doesn’t have the structured web of energy and intention that a curse or a spell would have. Which means no guidelines on how to break it, since it’s something naturally occurring he stumbled into. No quest to fulfil, objects of significance to provide, just...waiting it out. 

But if they figure out where and why it happened they might be able to figure out a way to speed up the process. 

And Robin is being very unhelpful on that front. 

Apparently her detection spell only told her that there was magic present, not what kind. Which smells like bullshit to Billy. He has no idea why she’d lie and it’s pissing him off.

He rolls his eyes skyward as she circles her fifth attempt to waffle an explanation. “Isn’t this the exact detection spell you used last week?” he snaps, hands flying outward in annoyance. “The one that let me track down that grimy little imp selling counterfeit luck charms? Because your stupid little cup of tea told you everything I needed to know. So why isn’t it this time?”

Her mouth snaps shut, and her gaze flickers to Steve, who’s sprawled in a seat at the bar, elbows propping him up. He’s nodding vigorously and chatting about something with Hop, who looks like he’s three seconds away from an aneurysm. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Hargrove...listen,” she pauses, pursing her lips, and collapses into a nearby chair with an aggrieved breath. “You’re terrible at handling emotions.”

“What.” He blinks at her, and then crosses his arms. “What’s your fucking point?”

“See, this, right here is what I’m talking about. I’m trying to protect my best friend, okay?” 

“From what exactly?”

“You. Dumbass.”

And that, like a punch in the damn gut, stops him in his tracks. Knocks the air from his lungs. He thought they’d moved past this. Thought he’d paid his dues, earned a little trust. 

Apparently not.

“Robin, I wouldn’t…” he whispers, voice breaking. “I—”

She waves a hand, cuts him off, shaking her head. “Hargrove...shit, I didn’t mean it like that. You’ve been feeding off him for months and haven’t hurt him.” 

“You know about that?”

“Everyone knows about that. Besides, I’m his best friend, remember? I always know who he’s sleeping with. He’s not exactly a vault of secrets.”

Billy glances at his boots, hiding a smile. “True.” When he looks back up she’s got her eyes narrowed, and he doesn’t like the thoughtful little wrinkle between her brows. “Do I have something on my face?”

She drums her fingers on the table. Stares at him a little longer in silence. “Hm...You know what. Promise me something.”

“...What.”

“Promise me you’ll let him down gently.”

“...What?”

“You obviously care about him, I just...he’s had his heart broken enough, okay? The magic, the shit muddling his brain right now, it’s...compelling him to tell truths. Basically, he has no filter right now.”

That can’t be right.

It was supposed to be something like...he had cupid blood spilled on him and it made him all affectionate and clingy, and he latched on to Billy because they had sex last night. And it was all just some fucked up lust-clouded mix-up. And it would wear off in the next 48 hours and Billy could go back to pretending he was just fucking Steve for practical reasons and Steve could go back to having good sex with no feelings involved. 

“He...Robin, I don’t understand,” Billy says faintly. He feels lightheaded. Like he’s not getting enough oxygen. Like the room is suddenly too small. He’s not looking at Robin anymore. The only thing he can see is Steve’s back, Steve’s profile, his lazy grin and exaggerated hand gestures. He’s still talking to Hop, none the fucking wiser, and…

Billy’s knees give out and he falls into the nearest chair. 

“What’s so hard to understand,” Robin replies scathingly, seemingly unaware of Billy’s internal crisis. “He gets attached way too easy. It’s not his damn fault, alright, so be nice. Maybe wait until this shit wears off, it’ll probably be an easier conversation when he’s not, y’know, all impulse no control.”

“But,” Billy’s breathing is starting to come in choppy bursts, his eyes stinging. “He can’t love me.” 

“Wha—holy shit, Hargrove, are you alright?”

“No,” he grits out, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, hard enough that he sees stars. He turns away from Robin, trying to get his breathing under control, trying to stop the embarrassing flood of tears threatening to fall. 

A hand lands on his shoulder and he jolts, head snapping up, some defensive, biting comment on the tip of his tongue, ready to tell Robin off, and—

It’s Steve. Staring down at him with soft brown eyes, a concerned tilt to his mouth, his brows, the goddamn expressiveness of his face hits Billy in the gut when he remembers that this is all Steve. Steve with no filter. Steve letting himself care, letting himself show it.

A whine escapes Billy, unbidden. 

“Oh, shit,” he hears Robin whisper. “Shit. I’ll just...I’m gonna go.”

Neither of them look at her, or acknowledge that she’d spoken. He hears the faint rustling of her standing, footsteps as she walks away. Continues to look up at Steve, transfixed.

“Billy?” Steve takes a hesitant step towards him, his voice gentle. 

“I didn’t know,” Billy says quietly, still blinking back tears.

Steve pulls up a chair, drops right next to Billy’s and sits down. Their knees are touching. “What didn’t you know?” He puts a hand on Billy’s thigh.

“Have I...Steve, have I been…” He exhales slowly, staring down at Steve’s hand. “I’ve been hurting you, haven’t I?”

“What? No! You wouldn’t—”

Billy shakes his head, “No, I mean…” He turns to face Steve, puts a hand on his chest, over his heart. Steve blinks at him, mouth slack. “I’ve been fucking with your head. This whole...arrangement. It’s been shitty for you, hasn’t it.”

“I…” Steve’s bottom lip trembles, and he catches it between his teeth. “I hate waking up alone afterwards. And there are times when it feels like it’s real for you too, when you call me baby, and—and sometimes, when I’m inside you, the way you look at me...It makes it harder to remember that it’s just an arrangement to you. Makes it harder when you walk away after, ‘cause I started to hope, and then...”

“And then I go and throw that back in your face, yeah. Fuck, pretty boy, I’m so fucking sorry.” His fingers tighten into a fist, bunching the front of Steve’s shirt. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know,” Steve assures him, hurriedly, covering Billy’s hand with his own. “It’s not your fault. I fall in love too easy.” Billy’s hand twitches at the casual acknowledgement, his heart stuttering. 

“But…” Billy chews his lip, deliberating. There’s a twinge of guilt when he considers taking advantage of the truth spell, but he’s burning up inside, he has to know, “Why me? I hurt you. I’m not...good. I still don’t get why you even let me into your bed let alone your heart.” 

Because maybe Steve’s just kidding himself. Maybe the things he’s saying are things he just...thinks are true. Maybe talking it out will show both of them that it wasn’t real after all.

“You are, though, Billy. Good.” Steve shuffles closer, his expression open and earnest, brows pinched a little with sadness. “You care, so much. You don’t want people to know because it scares you, but you do. You’re always trying to push people away because you think being close to you is some kind of horrible thing, but it isn’t. You’re protective and loyal and strong, and I love you, because you make me feel safe, and I...should I keep going? Billy?” His hands come up to cup Billy’s face, gently, wiping away the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

Billy opens his mouth to respond but a hiccuping little sob is the only sound that comes out. 

“I’m sorry! I don’t...I don’t know how to fix it. Billy—”

He cuts Steve off with a kiss. A brief, chaste press to his lips, wet with tears. Steve freezes. Blinks at him, eyelashes fluttering a little. 

“What...what was that for?” he asks quietly.

Breathing ragged and shaky, Billy exhales slowly, trying to calm himself enough to speak. “Steve—” His voice breaks. He swallows. Tries again. “I thought you would never feel the same, and I was trying to settle for what I could get,” it all comes out in a rush, jumbled together and an octave to high. 

Steve’s jaw drops.

But the floodgates are open now. Voice strained and thick with tears, he continues, “I’m so—so fucking sorry, I didn’t—I couldn’t—I always left afterwards because it would hurt too much to stay. Thinking it didn’t mean anything to you. ‘Cause I was—I always—I always fuckin’, wanted more, and—”

The air is knocked out of him when Steve collides with his chest. Arms circle his waist, and Steve tucks his nose into the crook of his neck. His breath stutters, catches, and Steve’s hold tightens. 

And when he speaks he’s muffled by Billy’s shirt, quiet and tentative, wavering, “Billy please tell me this means you—”

“Yeah,” Billy responds immediately, burying his face in Steve’s hair, squeezing his eyes shut. He wraps his arms around Steve, pulling him close, as close as he can. “Yeah. I do.”

Steve’s sigh is warm, humid against his skin, as he melts in Billy’s embrace. “Can you…” he sniffles. “Can—can you, like, say it, um. Please?”

Heart in his mouth, Billy presses his lips to the top of Steve’s head. He feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin, like his pulse is going to break his ribs, like a thousand different things are crashing around in his head as he scrambles, still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that this is actually happening. 

“I love you,” he says softly. Whispers into Steve’s locks of chestnut hair. Puts it out there where he can’t take it back. Can’t pretend it away. Feels like ripping his whole damn heart out and letting the world gawk. A lot scarier than three words should be. 

But it’s worth it for the way Steve looks up at him, jostling a little in his haste to lift his head. The shine in his eyes, surprise parting his lips, but elation overshadowing it by far. 

“I didn’t—Billy, you—I wasn’t sure if you’d say it, I—Billy,” he stammers, a disbelieving grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You do? Like. Really, for real?”

“Yeah, pretty boy.” He bites his lip, a smile inching its way across his face. “So fucking much.”

“Oh my god,” Steve blurts, laughing a little, and he dives forward to kiss Billy. Their teeth clack together. Again. But this time Billy chuckles wetly and doesn’t pull away.

The second try goes much smoother. 

And the third. 

Steve is sliding into his lap, tongue slipping past the seam of Billy’s lips, when Hopper yells from across the room, “Hey! Not in my bar!”

They spring apart. 

Billy forgot they weren’t alone, and judging from Steve’s deer-in-the-headlights stare, so did he. They both dissolve into slightly hysterical giggles.

“Are you two done working your shit out now, or…?” Robin sidles up while they’re wiping away the wetness from their faces, eyebrows raised at the both of them.

“I, uh,” Billy glances at Steve. The way his eyes crinkle when he laughs makes his heart flip, and he grins. “Yeah. I guess so?”

“Can we work on Steve’s weird magic issue now, then,” she asks flatly, unimpressed.

Steve shakes his head. “Nah, I want Billy to take me home and fuck me.”

Billy chokes on his own spit, however the strangled noise that escapes him is drowned out by Robin’s horrified yelp. “Eeugh! Hargrove, take your damn boyfriend and get out of here, I’ll figure this out myself!” she cries, throwing her hands in the air and turning on her heel.

“Heh…” Steve chuckles softly, looking down at his hands. “Boyfriend.” He glances up at Billy. “Are we boyfriends now? I wanna be. And we’re in love, so. We should be.”

It’s going to take Billy a while to get used to that. All of it. 

He hooks an arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulls him close, pressing a loud, smacking kiss to his forehead. “Makes sense to me, baby. Now,” he ducks his head, looking Steve in the eye, his own dancing with mirth, “You heard Robin, we gotta get outta here and see about gettin’ you everything you wanted from me.” 

Billy’s phone is ringing.

He groans, and reaches across Steve’s back to grab blindly for the offending device. Takes him a few tries, but he manages it without having to sit up. 

“Yeah?” he mumbles into the receiver, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes.

“It’s Robin. Is Steve still all truth-whammied?” 

“Uh,” Billy glances to his left. “No idea. He’s asleep.” 

“What about—you know what, actually, I don’t want to know what the last thing he said was. Nevermind.” Billy grins at the ceiling. If she’d asked he would’ve told her, but she’s right, she would have regretted it. “I just wanted you to know I figured it out.”

“...Congrats?” Billy scratches his stomach. Waits.

“Damn right. I’m a goddamn genius,” she somehow sounds both annoyed and smug. Which Billy respects, honestly. “He’s a pixie, Hargrove. Y’know all those legends about faeries not being able to lie?”

“Yeah, they’re all bullshit, aren’t they?”

“Yes, dingus, obviously, but they had to come from somewhere, right.”

“Would you cut to the chase, Buckley.” 

An irritated huff crackles through the phone. “Chimera blood. It makes pixies loopy if they roll around in it. I don’t know where he would’ve come into contact with it, but—”

“Uh.” Billy rubs his forehead. “I do.”

There’s a pause. “Explain,” she says icily. 

“Don’t be like that, it’s not like it hurt him.” Doesn’t stop Billy from feeling guilty anyways, but he doesn’t need this crap from her too. “I killed a chimera the other night. But I got all busted up, so I had to...visit Steve. And there was a lot of fluid exchange, so—”

“Gross, dude, alright, I get it.”

“Do you? You don’t want me to go on? Because I can—”

“No!”

“Are you sure? I could tell you exactly how much—aaand, she hung up.”

He puts his phone back, and jumps when Steve moves under him, his hand coming up to wrap around Billy’s waist.

“Robin called?” he slurs, still half-asleep.

Billy relaxes, letting himself drape across Steve’s chest in an inelegant sprawl. “Mhm.” 

“She figure it out?” He blinks a couple times, still squinting, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Yeah...about that. Uh. Chimera blood?”

Steve furrows his brow. And then Billy watches the realization dawn on his face. “Ohh. Oh. Okay.”

“It was my fault,” Billy grimaces, eyeing Steve carefully.

“Mm.”

His fingers trace aimless patterns in Billy’s skin, and his demeanour doesn’t change. 

“It wore off, didn’t it.”

“Think so, yeah.”

“Guess I gotta ask if you’re mad at me then.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot upward. “What? No.” He pushes a few stray curls back into place, eyes roaming Billy’s face. “Were you ever going to tell me you loved me?”

“I—” He stares, trying to read Steve’s weirdly mild expression and having very little luck finding anything useful. “Probably not?” he says eventually, hesitant. 

“Yeah, I probably wasn’t gonna either.” He smiles small, his eyebrows pinched. “But then I got all,” he wiggles his fingers at his own head, “And now here we are. And I’m happy to be here. So. I’m not mad.”

“Oh.” Billy blinks. “Yeah, that’s a fair point.”

Steve grins. “Just don’t poison me again, please.”

“No promises.”

“Asshole. I love you.”

“Just my asshole?”

“No, your mouth too.”

“...Dick.”

“Also that.”

Billy rolls his eyes, grinning ear-to-ear. “I love you too, weirdo,” he snickers.

His heart warms, basking in the sunshine of Steve’s responding smile as he leans in for a kiss.

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #harringrove week of love #harringroveweekoflove #loveweekifao #a raven's writing desk #incubus billy #steve is a pixie do not ask me why i dont know #also #listen the love potion prompt was only used VERY LOOSELY in this but it was still inspo #and #if you have seen lost girl u know exactly where this au idea came from don't @ me lmao

[matchasprouts]

The Walls - Chapter 5

[ whoa! idk how i got this out but uhhhhhhh enjoy ]

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Felix was surprised to be woken up by Greta, three hours after he usually got up no less. Before he could ask why she let him sleep in, she cut him off with the answer. “You looked ready to drop dead yesterday. I figured you needed the extra rest.”

She was right, those extra hours helped dissipate some of the ache in his muscles. “Maybe you should take a break today,” she suggested, readjusting Brahms on her hip. “I know you usually don’t do that, the Heelshires told me that much, but you really need it.”

And then she left, and Felix was left wondering what she meant by that. Until, of course, he caught a look at himself in the vanity mirror.

He looked nothing short of awful. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes from the lack of proper sleep he’d been getting, his eyes themselves were bloodshot, and if he looked closely he could see there was still dirt in his hair.

Not to mention the screaming ache that shot through every muscle in his body, almost making him feel like he was about to collapse.

The last time his body felt and looked like this was in college, and he hated it. He hated looking weak, much less feeling weak. If a break was what it took for him to have the energy to kill someone if needed, then he would take that goddamn break.

Starting with a hot bath to soothe his body and finally get that fucking dirt off of him.

---

He almost died in the bathtub.

Or at least, that’s what he told Greta when he came downstairs with his hair still sopping wet and dripping water everywhere. She seemed concerned for all of two seconds before deciding she simply didn’t care.

What actually happened is that he fell asleep in the bathtub, woke up suddenly to the sound of a child laughing, and freaked himself out. To be fair, he did hit his head on the side of the tub at least twice.

Anyway, Felix wasn’t built for breaks, so instead of relaxing or even just doing something small like playing the piano, he spent his time helping Greta with her chores. Being taller than her, he could reach higher shelves when dusting the bookcase, so he did. When she was occupied with Brahms, he would take over vacuuming or the dishes. He even took to going around and fixing every slightly crooked painting that he was sure had been jostled by the wall thing.

Basically, he was no good at sitting still. Felix was either doing something every second of the day, or he was sleeping. There was just no in between for him.

That is, until there was literally nothing else to be done. It was late afternoon now, the sun was just barely starting to dip past the horizon. Felix was sitting at the piano, playing a soft and somewhat cheerful tune, since Brahms didn’t seem to like the melancholic melodies he knew.

“When did you learn piano?” Greta asked after a while, setting down the book she’d been reading to the doll. The suddenness of the question made Felix’s fingers stutter, hitting a sour note that made him cringe.

“I don’t remember,” he admitted after moving his hands to his lap, so he couldn’t get distracted while playing again. “I imagine it was sometime in my childhood, maybe in highschool? I think I took a class… I’m not sure. My childhood memories are foggy at best.”

At least he was telling the truth. While fresher memories were burned into his head, anything before his freshman year in college was a blank. The only therapist he’d ever seen told him it was repression, due to trauma. Since he couldn’t remember what the trauma was though, they could never work on it.

The only thing he truly remembered was his mother. Soft voiced, a brunette like him, piercing green eyes. She was beautiful. She also had a grip like the devil, and spoke like it too.

To some extent, he was aware that his insecurities came from her. He also knew that she had been… less than supportive when he told her that he was trans, and that it led to probably one of the worst arguments of his life.

Sometimes, when he looked down at his hands, he thought he could still see the bruises her grip had left.

He shook his head, clearing it of the images of her. ‘She’s no longer a concern,’ he reminded himself internally, ‘you took care of that. She’s gone.’

“Oh,” Greta spoke again, snapping him back to reality, “well, that’s too bad. You’re really good at it, you know. You must have been practicing for a long time.”

Right. They were talking about the piano. He mentally scolded himself for getting off track before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I played all through college. Most at frat parties and the like, it’s a great party trick. My hands still cramp up sometimes though. Guess that’ll never stop happening.”

He returned to his playing after that, due to the soft scratching in the wall behind him. Sometimes the thing would let him take a break, but apparently today was not one of those days. He liked that it liked his music, he really did, but it could be so demanding sometimes.

After a little while, it came time for Brahms to be put to bed. After glancing at the clock, Greta stood up with the doll, told Felix good night, and headed upstairs.

Once Felix had finished the song, and confirmed that the thing had taken off, he followed her up.

And, since both were upstairs, neither of them heard the door open. The door they never bothered to lock because no one ever came all the way out here.

Felix had just collapsed face first onto his bed when he heard the thing practically running through the walls, back downstairs. Following that, he heard the familiar sound of the billiard balls hitting each other.

He shot up without a moment’s hesitation, running almost full speed back down the stairs and to the room where the pool table was kept. He almost fell over once there, slamming full force into the doorframe.

There stood a rather greasy looking man with long hair pulled back into a bun, sporting a messy beard. He stared at Felix in confusion, who was glaring so harshly at him that he would be dead if looks could kill.

It wasn’t long before Greta and the doll joined them, interrupting their staring match. “... Cole?” she asked softly, sounding both confused and scared.

Oh? Oh Greta was scared of this man? And he invaded their house?? Oh.

Almost immediately, Felix stood in front of Greta, grabbing one of the pool sticks and holding it up as a make-shift weapon. “You’re not welcome here,” he spat at Cole who, for the most part, seemed unfazed.

Boy was he gonna regret that.

“I don’t even know who you are,” Cole brushed him off, looking around him at Greta again. Felix once again stepped to block him. He accepted this fate, choosing to just speak at Greta. “Greta, babe, you just left without saying anything.”

It was hard to tell, but Felix could feel Greta’s free hand brush up against his back, seemingly grateful to have a shield against the other man. “Getting- getting this job was kind of sudden… and you know we aren’t together anymore…”

Knowing that Cole was an abusive ex made Felix want to kick his ass even more.

Cole took a step toward them, and Felix immediately held the stick up higher, more than ready to take a swing at the bastard. That made him pause, clearly wondering if getting beat up by a gardener was worth it.

“So, where’s the little kid?” Cole asked after a moment of tense silence. Felix glanced back at Greta, silently willing her to ignore him, but she stepped forward anyway and showed him Brahms. Cole laughed, as expected. “No, seriously, where’s the kid?”

“This is Brahms,” Greta said, standing her ground. She and Cole stared at each other for a long moment, before he seemed to accept that she wasn’t joking.

“Well, that makes this easier at least. We’re going home tomorrow. I already bought the plane tickets,” Cole announced, making Greta actually flinch. It was clear she didn’t want to go. Felix’s patience was running thin- he knew he needed to cut this off before he did something rash.

Before either of them could continue their conversation, Felix stepped in. “She’s not going anywhere. She has a job to do, and she will complete it. The Heelshires expect it of her. You’re welcome to stay here for tonight, only because I pity whatever hole you crawled out of, but you will be gone in the morning. Do I make myself clear?”

At least he was smart enough to avoid a confrontation. “Crystal,” Cole replied, putting his hands up in a mock surrender.

“I’ll get him set up. Can you go lay Brahms down?” Greta stepped in again, a hand on Felix’s bicep. He nodded to her, setting down the pool stick and taking Brahms from her. He sent Cole one last glare before heading upstairs.

Normally he’d be able to hear the thing follow him into the bedroom, but not this time. He assumed it was because it was watching over Greta, which he was glad for.

He changed Brahms into his pajamas with shaky hands, trying so hard to contain the rage that threatened to spill over just from Cole’s presence in the house. Another broken fucking rule, and he hadn’t been good enough to stop it.

After tucking Brahms into bed and giving him the obligatory good night kiss, he went back downstairs to check on Greta, only to be stopped by her at the top of the stairs. “Thank you for not doing anything… rash down there,” she told him, looking genuinely grateful.

“Believe me, if there was no consequences in beating him until he was unconscious, I wouldn’t have hesitated,” Felix replied harshly, now turning on his heel and heading back to his room. Greta stood in place for a moment, surprised, before heading into Brahms’s room.

The doll was the only comfort she had at the moment, so she laid down with him, holding him close as she drifted off to sleep.

---

They woke up to Cole yelling downstairs, practically screaming for Greta. When she and Felix got downstairs, the offending asshole grabbed Greta by the arm and yanked her into the room.

“What the fuck is that!?” he yelled, pointing up at something written in red on one of the upper windows,

‘Get Out’. Huh. Clearly the wall thing didn’t like this bitch.

Felix tuned out Cole’s frantic yelling when he noticed Brahms sitting in one of the armchairs, a bag full of dead rats sitting in front of him. Greta noticed it as well, gasping at the sight of the boy and rushing forward to pull him into her arms.

Apparently Cole did not like this.

“Of course all you care about is that fucking doll! He’s not a real boy, Greta!!” he shouted, making both Felix and Greta flinch. “Now you tell me who the hell did this!”

“Brahms did,” Felix cut in, making Cole look sharply at him. He figured he’d rather Cole yell at him over Greta. “He doesn’t like you. You’re an intruder in his home. He was bound to lash out.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me that the fucking DOLL did that?” Cole snapped, taking an aggressive step towards Felix and gaining a low growl in response. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“He’s not,” Greta cut in, her voice shaky. “Brahms… is very creative and- and he doesn’t like you. Not at all.”

Cole glanced between the two of them before letting out a frustrated yell and snatching Brahms from Greta’s arms, despite her protests. “Enough about this stupid doll!”

Before any of them knew it, they were upstairs and in the child’s bedroom. “Put him down Cole!” Greta begged him, staying a safe distance away but clearly wanting to run over to the boy.

Felix, on the other hand, was taking direct action. “Either you put him down, or I make you regret being born,” he threatened, grabbing the closest weapon- a small bat that he jokingly left in Brahms’s room “in case he needed it”.

“You’re not gonna touch me with this fucking thing here,” Cole retorted, holding Brahms up by the leg. He was right, because Felix just stood there, gaze glued on the doll.

Cole began to swing the boy around by the leg when he realized no one was going to do anything, quietly humming to himself. “Maybe… if this thing wasn’t here…” he mused, glancing at Greta.

Felix moved first, lunging for Cole, but he wasn’t fast enough. Not even close. Brahms’s head shattered on the chair before Felix managed to tackle Cole, sending both of them toppling onto the ground.

And then the walls started to shake, freezing both of them. Felix was up in a matter of seconds, truly panicking now. It had seen what had just happened.

And it wasn’t happy.

#story tag: the walls #s/i: felix shaw #brahms heelshire #self ship fic #self shipping #romantic: 🎭👁 #self insert #scrap.writing #scrap.ships #chapter 5