#have you considered he just needs some tlc

[blooberrries]

『consequential』 — satoru

— pairing: satoru x afab!reader — wc: 5k — content: mdni, nsfw; vampire au, college/university au, jealous/possessive satoru, blood drinking, vampire bites (chest, neck and arm), alcohol, mutual pining (a distant relative of idiots to lovers), piv sex, love bites (heh literally), standing/sex against the wall (he holds you up the entire time because he's actually insane), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming,he's a bit of a simp really idk if that was planned — notes: got possessed by the Horny Spirit, also not proofread. enjoy? also be gentle with me I haven't written smut in over a year

prompt: ["Oh, don't be cute."] + [“you’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “i’m all yours”]

While slightly spiteful, your plan had been simple and had about a 50/50 chance of succeeding, with minimal loss to you if it didn’t.

Two weeks ago Gojo Satoru had— after months of asking for it and being denied by you— finally gotten your permission to drink your blood. So he’d gone ahead and bitten you, you’d loved it and probably fell even more annoyingly head over heels for him as a result of the oddly erotic experience, and the way he had acted during the whole ordeal gave you a decent indication that he most definitely felt the same way you did.

You’d expected things to finally change between you after that, hell you’d actually been excited for it.

But instead of leaning into the shift in the dynamic between you, Satoru had instead decided to pretend you didn’t exist and proceeded to completely avoid you for the last two weeks.

(Which is actually quite the feat considering how much overlap there is between your friend groups. But you’re not impressed. You’re mad.)

To say you were upset would be an understatement. Your pride was wounded along with your ego, and you felt foolish and embarrassed and stupidly angsty. The unfortunate reality is that you’re not very good at processing those feelings, so in your time of need you turned to your most faithful, long-time friend: spite.

You know for a fact that Satoru likes the way you smell and taste– it’s one of the many things he’d let slip when sucking the blood ever so gently from the puncture he’d made in the soft flesh of your inner forearm. So you decided to wait until the prime part of your cycle, where the supernatural consensus said humans smelt their best, and you’d procured a tincture from your witch-in-training friend that would accentuate the natural appeal of your blood for certain creatures of the night (she’d assured you it was safe, but you have your own means of defending yourself anyway so you aren’t too worried.)

Then, you’d waltzed your way into a party that was being held at his shared accommodation and made it a point to have fun. The real goal of your plan, besides sticking it to him in the most subtle-not-subtle way ever, was also just to feel better about yourself. Your expectations being upended regarding how you’d hoped things would develop with Satoru had been a big blow and would take some TLC from yours truly to recover from.

You’ve had fun so far, you’re only a drink or so in and pleasantly buzzed, and you’re getting a lot of compliments on your perfume. You can’t exactly tell them you’re not wearing anything but eau de spite, but it does feel nice nonetheless. Each comment is like a balm to your poor, chafed ego. The only wrench in the works is that as expected, not long after you arrived, Satoru noticed you.

And then proceeded to continue in his efforts to avoid and ignore you. He’d disappeared into the throng of people on the other side of the house before you could even blink.

It takes a strongly mixed cocktail, courtesy of Shoko who you’re not sure isn’t trying to kill you with the alcohol content of these drinks, for you to settle your fuming. This is stupid— no, he’s stupid. Stupid sexy vampire with his stupid pretty eyes and stupid pretty face. How dare he let you make a fool of yourself by thinking there could be anything more between you! You never should have let him bite you. At least then things would still be the same and you wouldn’t be so torn between throttling him and kissing him.

Angrily, you take a hearty gulp of your drink. Despite the superficial fruity flavour it burns on the way down, unsurprisingly, and you have to breathe slowly through your nose so it doesn’t come back up. You’re no longer uncertain; you’re confident this cocktail is an attempt on your life.

It’s as you’re nursing that drink and leaning angstily against a wall in the corner of the room, that you sense someone approach you. Your eyes take a moment to adjust as you look up, surprise filtering through you once you register the figure by your side.

“Hey.”

Your brows shoot up, a small grin tugging your lips. “Oh? Long time no see, Mei Mei. What cave have you crawled out of to be here tonight?”

The snow-haired woman rolls her eyes, lips twitching. Her tongue darts to swipe over the tip of a pointed canine.

“Oh, you know, every homebody has to come out to play every once in a while.” Her nose twitches, and she leans forward slightly to inhale. Her eyes flutter wide in pleasant surprise. “Well, don’t you smell absolutely divine tonight. Special occasion?”

Kind of, but you’re not about to tell her that. Mei Mei can be a decent enough acquaintance so long as you keep her at arm’s length.

“I’m trying something new,” you answer simply. She hums, and when her body angles towards you again ever so slightly you become aware of the most odd, prickly sensation. It tickles the hairs at the back of your neck, and you fight the peculiar urge to turn and look around. All you’d see is dancing bodies and stumbling drunks, anyway.

“It suits,” Mei Mei purrs with a smile that makes you a little nervous. Music throbs against your body so strongly that for a moment you’re not sure whether the beat you’re feeling in your chest belongs to your heart or the song. “Though you ought to be careful going on campus smelling like that. You’ll lure in every bloodsucker in a five-mile radius.”

You suppose that means the tincture is doing its job. The way her eyes are appraising your pulse points keeps you feeling nervous, though. Perhaps… it wasn’t the best idea to make yourself smell so scrumptious after all. There are more than a few loose canons in the area.

It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. At this point you just gotta double down and own the decision.

“Noted,” you say, taking a hearty sip of your death-in-a-cup. The burn is now a pleasant distraction. You smile at Mei Mei and feel that prickly, hot feeling increase tenfold. What is that?!

The sensation has your heart rate elevating slightly, and it must make the aroma of your blood a little stronger because the vampire before you lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering shut. Almost like it’s instinct, she takes a step closer and leans her head towards the crook of your neck. Your startle is almost imperceptible, and you’re thankful that the top you opted for is one that saved the neck exposure for a well-placed boob window instead. The fabric covering half the expanse of your throat is probably the only reason you don’t freak out at her actions.

Her nose brushes your skin, dragging up the column of your throat until it flirts with the bottom of your earlobe. Your heart skips a beat before tumbling into a full gallop. It’s different to how it felt with Satoru— you don’t like this nearly as much. Your legs tense with the urge to leave.

“Really,” she says, purring your name. “You’ve got me feeling quite peckish. Won’t you let me have a little sn–“

A grip winds around your wrist like a vice, not painful but certainly unforgiving. Startled, you look up and see the person of the hour, the vampire you went to all this effort to torment in the hopes he would want you again. Wow, it doesn’t sound great when you think of it like that. The alcohol is certainly not helping your self-esteem right now.

Satoru’s pretty baby-blues are dark, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen before, and his entire body is riddled with tension. He almost looks like the slightest pressure would have him snapping in half. His jaw is locked tightly, and he hisses through clenched teeth and descended fangs.

“Come with me. Now.”

You don’t get the chance to bid Mei Mei farewell, not that you really want to, and the last thing you see as you’re dragged out of the room is her waving a manicured hand your way, mouthing a playful ‘goodbye’. She looks far too amused for your comfort.

Right now, Satoru is nothing like the cheeky, carefree, shit-stirring bastard you’ve come to know and love. That isn’t to say you’re completely opposed to it, because the way he looks like know is a pretty big turn-on. But still – the difference is startling. You’re not sure how to navigate the situation.

Before you know it you’ve been unceremoniously relocated to his bedroom, and he is pressing you against the door the second it closes behind you with a heavy, loud THUD.

For a moment, the only sound that fills the space is that of the music beyond the wooden barrier. The bass is no longer indistinguishable with your heart beat – the stuttering rhythm that echoes against your rib cage is all you.

Satoru inhales deeply as though to calm himself down, only to let out a long, low groan immediately after. The sound affects you more than it probably should, heat winding pleasantly up your spine.

“What was that?” He demands, brows snapping together. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s most likely referring to Mei Mei being horny on main just before. His massive frame boxes you in against the door in such a way that you’re almost embarrassed by how much it makes your tummy flutter.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you breathe, chin tilted up as you hold his gaze. Something feral flickers through his expression.

“Oh, don’t be cute.” The words snap into the air, causing your breath to hitch. Satoru’s eyes flick to your forearm, where the slightest bruise still remains from the last time you were in close quarters like this. He swallows, piercing gaze returning to your own.

“I told you.” Satoru’s words leave in a snarl, his fingers firm against the flesh of your hips. His own body is so close to yours that you can feel the heat of it, the tingle of electricity that arcs between you. “That I would be able to smell it if another vampire so much as breathed near you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you getting chummy with one in my own home?”

You can easily recall him saying that to you almost a fortnight ago, when he had been commenting that he could tell you hadn’t been bitten before thanks to his sharp senses and all that. You didn’t think he was lying. You are surprised that he cares, though. Something like indignation bubbles beneath your lungs, because how dare the bastard spout that shit when he just spent the last two weeks since your ‘encounter’ pretending you didn’t exist.

“Not sure why you give a shit,” you retort, squashing down a whine that begins to rise in your throat when his hips begin to press into yours. “Seemed like you were done with me after you finally got that taste you wanted so bad.”

His brows scrunch together, appearing confused for a second amongst the agitation on his features. You decide to fill the gap in the conversation on his behalf.

“I really was just a Sip ‘n’ Dip to you, huh,” you scoff, letting your head fall back against the door. His eyes snap to the column of your throat, more of which is now exposed. “At least now I know the only thing you want from me is my blood. Really saved me some grief there, Satoru.”

“Excuse me?”

When your eyes slide back to his face, he looks like you’ve physically struck him. His fingers dig into your hips almost out of habit, just shy of being painful. Anger still bubbles beneath your sternum, and you glare at him.

“By the way, as far as I’m aware, biting me once doesn’t give you any exclusive rights to my blood, so where the hell do you get off getting so shitty because someone else took a whiff–“

Satoru snaps.

“I don’t just want your blood,” he snarls, lips curling away from pin-prick sharp fangs. He has the nerve to look insulted. “I want you, you stupidly oblivious pain in my ass. All of you.”

He then leans in, erasing any foreign scents lingering on you and replacing it with something of his own, whatever pheromone bullshit vampires do. You’re too busy trying to stop your heart from having palpitations to focus on it too much because what the fuck did he just say—

“Do you have any idea how close I am to losing myself to a frenzy, like a fucking fledgling?!” His lips brush over the pulse point at your neck, and then teeth, razor-sharp and full of promise, drag over the skin of your clavicle, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You shiver, flushing with heat and desire. The threat of another bite is already enough to have your body reacting in memory of how the last one felt. You want him, god you want him so, so badly.

“I haven’t fed since then because I can’t get the taste of you out of my head, and I can’t stomach anything else. I can’t stop thinking about the noises you made when I sank my teeth into you, and the scent of absolute desire that filled the entire fucking room the second the venom kicked in for you.” Satoru’s words are punctuated by a prick just below your collarbone, the brief sting eliciting a gasp. Warmth begins to trickle thinly from the site and is quickly staunched by a press of his tongue, and he moans. You’re so painfully aroused that it nearly makes you dizzy. He groans, long and suffering. “Just like now.”

He moves lower and lower, hauling you off the floor and completely into his hold so his mouth can reach your chest without stooping. Suddenly in the air, you can’t help the way you yelp and wrap your legs tightly around his hips – which, in turn, presses the heat of your core against the very prominent bulge there. You both echo a groan.

“Coward,” you manage to pant, out of sheer spite if nothing else. “Stupid idiot. I clearly want you. I literally could not have been any more obvious, you’re so –“

His teeth sink into the exposed top of your breast, retracting once they puncture deep enough to get a good flow. Then, he latches firmly onto the flesh, sucking it into his mouth. The act startles a moan out of you, the venom from the initial bite already transmuting the pain into heady pleasure and sending heat through your veins, all while kicking your heart into an even faster beat. Perhaps one of the best perks of the venom is that after that first dose settles in, the only part of the process left for you to feel is pleasure.

Even while you’re unable to help the way your hips roll into his own, and unable to ignore the feral, sinful moans vibrating against your chest as he suckles the wound he made and drinks from you, you manage to continue insulting him.

“You’re so stupid, why the hell did you avoid me for two weeks huh?” A moan breaks up your complaint as he swipes his tongue in broad movements over the bite, his hips snapping into yours and pressing you further into the door. The wood creaks, but neither of you pay it any mind. You can barely function around the incredible sensation of his cock grinding against you through layers of clothing. “All you did was send mixed messages and piss me off and, ngh fuck–“

He pulls back enough that you can see the flush in his face, the feral gleam in his eyes and the smear of blood over swollen lips. His brows are furrowed, but he’s too besotted by the taste of you to have as much heat behind his glare as he did previously.

“There are some things you can’t take back,” he grits out, tongue coming to clean the red from his lips. Your heart stutters, pulse thudding in your ears. “Especially for my kind. If I didn’t stay away, I probably would have ended up doing one of those things.”

Your core positively throbs with need, clenching around nothing. The extent to which you want him right now has you more irritable than usual. “Satoru, I wouldn’t have let you drink from me if I wasn’t interested in everything else it would entail—“

“You don’t understand,” Satoru groans, freeing a hand to rip at the material of your shirt. Clawed fingertips slice through with ease, taking out the bra straps underneath as well. He makes quick work of the band beneath your chest and the underwear is then torn from your form and thrown somewhere in the background. The material of your top remains, and he yanks it down below your aching breasts, watching with rapt attention as they bounce free heavily. Barely allowing you time to moan, he lifts you higher in his arms and dives down to drag his teeth over the swollen globes. He nips and nibbles across the sensitive skin, eliciting all sorts of sounds from you and an unbearable amount of desire that shoots straight between your legs. You can feel slick arousal trickling from your aching cunt with each new miniscule bite Satoru delivers, but honestly at this point you’re too horny to be embarrassed.

“I already want everything you can give me, and more.” He bites the inside of your breast and the flesh gives easily beneath the razor-sharp point of his fangs. One of his hands comes to grip the other side of your chest while he laps and sucks at the blood welling in the wound. Your nipples are painfully hard and you feel like you could cry in relief when his long, nimble fingers begin to deliver them some much-needed attention. “I want every single part of you and I don’t want to share. This is the way I am built. I can’t do this with you again and let you go afterwards. I want you to be mine.”

You probably shouldn’t find that as romantic as you do, but aren’t really in a position to psycho-analyse your response right now. It’s not all that surprising, either, since you recall someone mentioning to you before how strongly vampires bond with their partner when they finally make their choice. As it happens, his confession serves to not only make your heart soar but your pussy throb. You’ve been pining for this man for years, so even amongst the haze of lust clouding your mind you don’t have to think about how to respond to it.

This is, after all, the solution you were hoping for two weeks ago.

“I don’t want you to let me go, or take anything back. Please bite me again, mark me up–” You pause to gasp, Satoru having shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips. Your panties are gone a split-second later, likely discarded in the same manner as your bra, and the hand that was at your breast is now trailing your slit and gathering all the slick that has pooled there. His middle finger dips in, causing a stutter in your breath. You lean forward to whisper in his ear, snowy strands of hair tickling your cheeks as you do so. “And please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

Something snaps in him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

A feral snarl escapes him, a gravelly “fuck” the only warning you get before his teeth sink down just above your nipple, fangs retracting once blood wells to the surface, and he pulls both the wound and your stiffened peak into his mouth, sucking hard. There isn’t a single ounce of pain, only the white-hot pleasure that shoots to your clit and has you keening as a result, hands scrabbling for purchase along his broad shoulders. That free hand that was at your slit has made quick work of his pants and is now guiding his scalding member to slap against your clit, and then press against your entrance while you recover from the shock of pleasure.

You expected him to be well-endowed, and you’re not at all disappointed. Satoru’s cock is fat and long, and with one roll of his hips it spears right into you. There is no resistance, you’re far too aroused and wet for there to be any, but the feeling of being split open by such a monster quite literally knocks the breath out of you. You hardly recognise the noise that escapes you as one of your own, hands gripping the vampire’s hair and shoulder so tightly you’d be worried about hurting him if he was human. He isn’t, though, and without even noticing your grip continues drinking from you while latched to your breast, tongue pressing and rolling your aching nipple all the while.

A second is all you get to adjust to the foreign length inside you before Satoru rolls his hips back with a moan, the fat head of his cock dragging against your walls as he does so, and then slams it back in. He builds a rhythm immediately that is almost animalistic in its desperation and fervour, each thrust firm and hitting so deep inside that you honest to god think it has you seeing stars. Whines and moans tumble from your mouth, no longer able to be held back when the only thing your brain can comprehend is the sheer pleasure and ecstasy that burns and sparks along your limbs. He begins to hit a certain spot when he fucks up into your heat that has you clenching around him, slick gushing forth.

“FUCK.” He rips away from your chest to tilt his head back in a rough, stilted moan, his hands gripping and digging into the meat of your thighs where they melt into your ass. In the absence of his mouth, blood begins to dribble down the swell of your breast. His crystalline eyes are hazy and blown out in lust, brows drawn together and expression twisted in pleasure, his breath coming in pants. He is visibly barely holding it together, completely drunk on the taste and feel of you– and it simultaneously is the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “Yes, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”

You oblige, relishing in the full-body shiver that tears through him in response. He bites your name out amidst a tortured groan, hands shifting to your hips. His mouth returns to clean up the mess he left on your breast, lips latching around your nipple to suck and pull once more, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the way he suddenly begins to lift you by the hips and drop you back down on his cock in time with his thrusts. Almost. You have to bite back a scream at how fucking good it feels, the pressure and pace and just how full you feel. You can feel yourself rapidly beginning to come undone.

With the combination of his venom’s aphrodisiac effects and the sheer amount of time you’ve spent longing for this, you don’t imagine you’re going to last much longer. If the unforgiving pace of Satoru’s hips is anything to go by, you estimate the same to be the case for him.

He groans into your chest, releasing your breast to bounce in time with his thrusts, the action accompanied by an almost audible pop, and shifts his hold to free a hand. The pressure of two fingers against your clit has you crying out, body jerking at the sudden rush of pleasure – your head whips down to find him already looking at you, gaze swinging from the juncture of your thighs to your eyes. Evidently pleased by the expression he finds on your face, he continues his circling of your clit and leans his head down to trail kisses from your already-healing chest, up the column of your throat, across the line of your jaw, until he finally arrives at your lips.

“Mine,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours in a feather-light caress. His baby-blue eyes are lidded heavily and almost dazed, coherent thought lost to the throes of pleasure and his most simple instincts. He nicks your lip at the same time as he angles a particularly wonderful thrust, the head of his cock hitting against that spot that makes you see stars and release a loud, wanton cry. “You’re all mine.”

You pull back to nod rapidly, unable to form words when all you can think – all you can feel – is the throbbing pleasure of his cock splitting you open with each heavy thrust. His head follows, lips seeking your own once more. The kiss is hot, and needy, and his oversized canines scrape your bottom lip more than once, and yet all you can do is return the fervour in between moans and whines. His hand is still at work between your legs, and you feel in your bones that you’re really not going to last much longer at this rate.

Satoru releases your mouth with a final nip, and moves his head to nestle it in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He groans, low and long, and the vibration turns to a shiver as it travels over your skin. His lips begin to move.

“Say it.”

You struggle to think let alone figure out what he wants, lost in the current of your rapidly approaching orgasm. His fingers pick up speed, aided by the generous amount of arousal still gushing from your pussy in between thrusts. It takes everything you have not to scream, your hips bucking.

“Say it,” he says again, an oddly uncertain note infiltrating his rumbling gasp. He utters your name while nosing at your throat and you feel yourself melt. “Please, say it.”

Realisation as to what he is looking for hits you at the same time as your orgasm. “Fuck! I’m– I’m yours, all yours! God, fuck—“

Satoru’s pace stutters, undone by your pussy clenching and throbbing around him in a fight to keep him inside, and it takes him a moment to recover before he begins to fuck into you again in earnest, movements growing sloppy and frantic but no less punishing. It all serves to prolong the wave of absolute bliss you’re riding in the wake of what has to be the strongest orgasm of your life. Those vampiric toxins are no joke.

You wind your arms around his neck, clutching him close and trying not to lose your mind as he fucks up into you, the drag of his cock against your walls somehow even more delicious than before. He mouths at your neck, hips beginning to stutter once more. You clench around him, and he breaks. There is barely enough time for a curse to escape his mouth before its clamping on your neck, teeth digging in deep— deeper than he’s ever bitten you before— and tingling heat spreading out from the puncture sites. He gives one, two, three final, dragging thrusts, body trembling and muscles taut, before his cock throbs and he buries it inside you, spilling into you with a deep, rumbling groan against your throat.

Soft, panting moans escape you as his hips continue to roll into you softly, riding out his orgasm, and you bite back a wanton groan as you feel his cum beginning to trickle out around his softening member. As soon as he comes back to his senses to a degree, he has the presence of mind to navigate the two of you to the bed before he loses strength in his legs, his mouth slipping from your neck after he laves his tongue over the wound to seal it. Unceremoniously, he drops the two of you against the mattress, but surprisingly keeps you snugly in his hold and his length still buried inside you. Ignoring how hot that is, you decide to view the action from a purely romantic light and nearly melt into the mattress.

Vaguely, you register the thumping club beats still booming beyond the confines of the room. Evidently the party was still ongoing.

“This wasn’t how I planned for today to go,” he admits, after a few beats of contented silence. He nuzzles his face to your chest, dragging his nose across your collarbone. “I was going to talk to you tomorrow morning.”

You snort; that’s likely.

“… This is how I planned for today to go, though.”

He huffs a laugh before pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to enable you further. He allows for another few moments to pass, and in that time you let your own eyes flutter closed.

“You can’t change your mind, by the way,” he says suddenly, tone odd. You open your eyes and turn to see his crystalline gaze directed to your neck, where the latest of his bite marks sits proudly. “I may have done one of those things I can’t take back.”

You’re not sure how to tell him it’s not as bad of a thing as he thinks it to be.

likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 lmk what you think!

#gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru smut #vampire au #vampire gojo satoru #smut #my work #jjk writings #jjk #jealous gojo satoru #posessive gojo satoru #i'll probs proofread later #probably #oneshot #he's a bit feral in this one but we love that for him #satoru x reader #satoru x reader smut

[jiniret-writings]

Warm Blankets Pt. 1

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: platonic!skz x 9th member!reader

Warnings: Chan is really mean in the beginning

The actions of the members in this story do not represent how they are in real life. This is all fictional and should not be taken seriously.

Pt.1 || Pt.2 || Pt.3

If I knew you'd act like this, I wouldn't have fought for you to be in the group!

Chan's words still rung in your head as you walked with Hyunjin, looking down to hold back another wave of tears.

You didn't know how the fight even started. One minute you were walking into his studio and the next, you were being pulled out by Hyunjin. His soft reassurances clashed with the cold look in his eyes as he looked at their leader.

Hyung! That was low. Calm down and then talk. We're done for today.

The minute the words left his mouth you were stunned. All fight and fire had left your body, leaving you cold. It wasn't easy for Chan to fight for you. The company had too many factors to consider. You were considered a "risky choice", but day in and day out, Chan fought. He practiced with you, recorded with you, and helped you prepare to be your very best. Even if you were good, you stayed up with him to strive to be better.

And in the end, it all came together. Your fate was left in the hands of public opinion and it seemed you were more liked than you thought. With 97% of the audience voting to keep you in the group, you were officially a part of Stray Kids.

You were always pushing yourself, staying late nights and having early mornings to squeeze in as much practice time as possible. You wanted to prove that you had a spot in the group. Impressing fans was important, but more than anything, you wanted to make the members proud. You wanted to make Chan proud.

You didn't remember how the fight started, but you knew he didn't mean it. Still, the words stung more than any critique or hate comment you've ever gotten. Unable to hold back the next wave of tears, you pulled Hyunjin to the side of the road and turned towards a wall to wipe the tears away. As soon as you turned away though, you felt a presence behind you and a hand on your back.

"It's okay to cry, you know. You don't have to hide it", he reassured, running his hand up and down your back. "What he said was mean, but it was wrong. You have a big part in out group. Without you, we wouldn't be Stray Kids, only Stray."

You couldn't hold back any more and hugged the older boy. He was only a few months older but it was like he took it upon himself to be the 00's eldest; he always took care of his younger members, and never left them alone when they were down.

Hugging you tightly to his chest, Hyunjin gently ran his fingers down your back, occasionally running them through your hair. He made calm shushing sounds as you let go of every tear you'd been holding back since you left the company building. You didn't know how to describe the pain you felt, but being around Hyunjin was making it better. I'm not alone. I'm wanted, you thought as your breathing finally slowed.

"Is there anything you want to do? We basically have the day off," Hyunjin whispered, still holding you to him. It was a gentler hold so you could let go if you wanted to.

You didn't want to.

Thinking it over, you were just tired. You didn't know what to do so you just shook your head. Hyunjin hummed at that, thinking. A few seconds later he said, "how about we go back to the dorms and just eat and watch movies?"

The thought of seeing the other members made your heart lighter so you looked up and nodded before stepping away from him. "Yeah, that'd be nice," you said.

"Cool! Let's get some snacks before heading back?" he asked, pointing to the convenience store not too far from where you were.

"Sure! And some drinks?"

"You got it," he responded before grabbing your hand and walking to the store.

Unknown to you, Hyunjin had sent a quick text to the dorm:

SOS, y/n had a really bad day, extra tlc needed

You lived in a dorm with Felix, Seungmin, Leeknow, and Jeongin since that dorm had five rooms and the other had four. Your dorm was immediately dubbed the "cuties dorm" because it was the maknae line + Minho.

Today wasn’t really a day off but most of your schedules were in the morning so most, if not all, if your dorm mates were home. The moment they got the text, it was like a spell was cast over them. Felix was the first to react, running to all of their rooms and grabbing every pillow and blanket he could get his hands on.

Seungmin and Minho were watching a scary movie together and got up as well. Minho went into the kitchen to start cooking your favorite meal and Seungmin looked for their matching pajama sets. You had bought it on the fay you all moved, but hadn’t had a chance to wear it. Jeongin was out for a walk when he got the text and started running home. On the way though, he spotted a cute bear and bought it quickly before heading back.

At the same time, Hyunjin sent another text to 2/3RACHA:

Leader-hyung is pissed. Casualty=1 Tread carefully

He knew today was a track-day for 3RACHA so he left them to it, but decided they deserved a warning. Chan never hurt them intentionally, but when he was mad, words could be said that he didn’t mean. Hyunjin already had one hurt kid, he didn’t want to add more to the mix. Placing his arms around your shoulders, Hyunjin walked towards the convenience store and hoped the members all pulled through.

Here's Part One of my first mini-series here! I was originally going to make it one long post, but then it got really long so for my first one, I figured it'd be best to have this broken up into three parts.

The next two parts are being written and will be up in the upcoming days! If all goes well, the next part will be up in two days, and then part three will be up two days after the second part!

I want to reiterate the note I put in the beginning, I do not, in any way, think those words would come out of Chan's mouth. This is all purely fiction and in no way represents how I feel about the members. I love them all, but for the fic I needed an angst anchor.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! And as always, have a great morning, afternoon, evening, and night!

-Jini

Divider made by: @cafekitsune

#jiniret-writings #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagine #bang chan #bangchan angst #bangchan x you #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin comfort #hwang hyunjin comfort #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #platonic stray kids #9th member #stray kids 9th member #au #alternate universe #stray kids au #lee felix fluff #leeknow fluff #jeongin flu #jeongin fluff #seungmin fluff #stray Kids felix #stray kids leeknow #stray kids seungmin #stray kids jeongin

[morehotch]

[7:23 AM]

aaron x gn + bau! reader, reader taking care of sick aaron

you knew when jack caught a stomach bug from school last week that inevitably either you or aaron would get sick afterwards. but you were especially worried about aaron; he already rarely lets himself rest or slow down. he's stubborn and even though you both saw his early symptoms of fatigue and headaches, aaron ignored it and pushed through for a few days as you both focused on taking care of jack.

but this morning, when he wakes up groggy and sweaty after being restless all night and it’s official; your incredibly lovely but intense and determined and dedicated husband was sick.

you thought it went without saying aaron now needed- deserved, some old fashioned tlc and chicken noodle soup. but you should’ve known better, you walk into the bathroom and catch aaron attempting to button up his white collared shirt, turning to look for a tie, trying to get ready for work.

he looks pale and the dark circles under his eyes make you walk quickly into the closet, standing between him and his impressively large tie collection.

"no," you say sternly, still with a small pout.

"honey," aaron says weakly with a sigh and you shake your head, now equally determined as your husband.

"honey," you repeat, “please, you're sick. you need to take care of yourself."

as expected, aaron looks incredibly unconvinced as you cross your arms over your chest, "you would never let me go into work like this, why can't you give yourself the same care and compassion?" you run a hand up and down his arm, hating how warm his skin felt.

he frowns, eyebrows furrowed like he's trying to think of a rebuttal but you continue, “i'll take jack to school and call the team. we both can stay home.”

aaron’s frown only deepens, “no, no don't stay home because of me."

"you would do the same for me,” you argue, knowing aaron would immediately call out of work at the slightest aliment you faced; proven by a few months ago when you sprained your ankle and aaron insisted on you propping your leg up in bed and waiting on you, tenderly nursing your not very injured leg back to health.

you smile at the memory as you hear the soft footsteps of jack. "daddy," he calls, wandering into your room, poking his head into the bathroom.

aaron smiles immediately at the site of his son in his adorable dinosaur pajamas- his recent obsession and your most recent purchase. jack finally felt better after a few days of you, aaron, and jess took turns to care for him.

"i'm sorry i got you sick," he mumbles sadly, struggling to wrap his arms gently around aaron's legs.

he looks down, running a hand gently through jack’s bed head, "oh buddy, this isn't your fault.“

“the mean stomach bug just found a way into our house, but we're going to get rid of him,” you promise and jack giggles at your explanation before running off to get ready for school, excited with your promise of discussing dinosaurs with you in the car on the way there.

by now, aaron seems to have accepted his not so bad fate of being taken care of by you today as he slowly unbuttons his collared shirt, turning to find a simple t-shirt.

“can we at least video conference in at some point?” he sighs and you laugh knowingly, considering aaron, you decide that's a pretty good comrpomise.

“deal,” you smile, coming into the closet, hugging him from behind and kissing his bare shoulder gently. “go back to bed,” you murmur, “i’ll be back soon.”

when you come back from dropping jack off, you find case files perched precariously on his nightstand and aaron back in his pajamas, flipping through crime scene photos for your current case.

you place your sick day essentials on your nightstand; a bottle of gatorade, mutiple medicines, and a thermometer- that when you run it over aaron's forehead, reads a considerably high fever.

"no crime scene photos allowed when you have a fever, new house rule," you smile at aaron’s small pout, trading the gruesome photos for some tylenol.

you settle back into bed with him after calling penelope and explaining the situation, passing the phone over and letting aaron weakly give an agenda for today.

you kiss his forehead, running your hand through his hair that's getting a little longer- to your own secret excitement. you get comfortable, and instead of settling in your usual spot with your back against your chest; you pull aaron gently into your own, throwing an arm across his waist, rubbing up and down soothingly.

"you're gonna get sick," he murmurs but you smile into the crook of his neck. "worth it,” you whisper, “i love taking care of you.”

after lunch, he finally falls asleep as you hold him loosely, finally looking relaxed and peaceful.

when you have to leave to get jack from school and he’s still sleeping, you decide to let him sleep and not wake him up. aaron rarely gets enough sleep, ever. you think he definitely deserves this.

however, that means the afternoon video conference that aaron mentioned to an unconvinced penelope doesn’t happen.

but aaron doesn’t wake up mad, blinking as he discovers jack nestled in his side, grinning when he realizes his dad is awake, thrusting a bright get well card he made at school today into his hands.

aaron handles it with such care as he turns to look for you, smiling when you walk into your bedroom.

“sorry i didn’t wake you up for that afternoon meeting, you looked so comfortable,” you explain sheepishly and aaron only shrugs, tugging a giggling jack into his arms.

“oh yeah, don’t worry honey, i didn’t feel up to that anyway,” he smiles and you can’t help your immediate grin as aaron continues with so much sincerity that even after so many years together he still makes your cheeks flush, “thanks for encouraging me today, thank you for being you, baby.”

#aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fic

[canisalbus]

Just recently discovered your tumbler and I love everything about it. Your art style, the time period you have chosen, the background you are building for the characters. Top notch.

Though I do have a question : going back through all the asks people are tending to focus on sunny boi Vasco supporting nerve wracked Machete but a relationship needs to be equal so, what's the turn around?

When/how does Machete say 'don't worry babe, I've got this'? He is after all a very accomplished and competent person inside his areas of expertise.

Because of his trusting and altruistic nature, Vasco has been burned in relationships before. Even though he's good at reading people and might sense that he's being treated unfairly, he endures it because he doesn't want to be the bad guy and upset the other person. He's from a well known noble family, he's affluent and he's considered to be very good looking. Over the years he has met countless people who wanted to take advantage of him, his status and his assets in a way or another, and he has hard time tolerating that kind of greed and dishonesty. Machete has never been interested in his pedigree or wealth, and the way he's utterly devoted to him makes Vasco feel confident and secure.

He's been forced into various boxes and moulds all his life, his family had high expectations for him and did their hardest to whip him into a shape that satisfied them (now that I think about it, Vasco's parents probably would've been proud if their son turned out more like Machete, hard working high achiever). He tries to not let it bother him, but on some level he does feel guilty for letting them down. Machete is Vasco's biggest fan, he earnestly believes in him and loves him the way he is. He feels like he doesn't have to pretend to be something he's not around him, but at the same time Machete's influence makes him want to be a better person. Vasco admires his ambition, knowledge, diligence and perseverance. Machete tries very hard to be a good person and do a good job, but because he's so difficult to get close to and puts up such a cold facade, his efforts tend to go unnoticed. Vasco sees this side of him and finds it very charming.

Machete could use a lot of tlc and Vasco is happy to be there to provide it. The fact he's able to have such a profound positive effect on someone and their quality of life makes him feel needed, he feels like he's contributing something good to the world and that gives him strength. It's not like his only job is to pat Machete's head and tell it's going to be alright though, they enjoy each other's company and feel at ease together. In a way Machete also has a calming effect on Vasco. On his good days he can be very pleasant company, he's interesting to talk to, he's kind and gentle and even awkwardly funny at times, he has an eye for beauty and is able to appreciate small good things in their lives. He isn't an expert in expressing his affection physically, but when he does, Vasco can trust that his attempts are authentic.

Machete may not always know the correct words and gestures to comfort him, but he's a good listerer and does his best to be there for him. He never belittles or makes fun of him, he's patient and forgiving when Vasco makes mistakes, and will drop everything if he's ever in a need of help. He often makes Vasco feel seen and understood like no one else. Machete is good at solving dilemmas and coming up with working solutions (or preventing problems from ever arising, more often than not), and Vasco has the nerves of steel to keep him grounded and stable at a time of crisis. Together they make a very efficient and resourceful team.

Their jobs are very similar, Machete works for the church and Vasco is a secular politician, but they both deal with diplomacy and foreign relations. They end up working together often, and since Machete is very competent in what he's doing, he often ends up helping and advising Vasco.

I think despite their differences, they're just very well in tune with each other. In the ways that actually matter, they have common interests, tastes and worldviews. They enjoy similar things. And the parts that differ tend to augment them instead of driving them apart. A lot of their fondness stems from the fact they have a lot of shared history, they met at a young age and their friendship-turned-romantic was a very formative experience for both.

Should it be necessary, Machete would face God and walk backwards into hell to protect Vasco.

#that's how I see it at the moment #I mean there's probably more but this is already a wall of text as is #I'm imagining Vasco asking Machete's help in doing his taxes and Machete just flipping through his papers in aghast disbelief #like oh my dearest light of my life you're wonderful but this is some sloppy bookkeeping #answered #fantacyjunky #Vasco #Machete

[libraryofgage]

Hashah Tovah! It's Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and there's no such thing as too much Jewish Steve in my book (that being said, this story isn't about the New Year, it's about Shabbat hfjdks)

Also, I'm gonna be honest, this fic is a love letter to Judaism and my experiences with my temple and the people there. My experiences aren't universal, though, so please don't take anything here as, like, the end-all-be-all of Judaism. If you have questions about anything here, you can ask me; I'll be happy to answer ^_^

The time period is also very loose. Upside Down happened, but some of the attitudes are probably a bit more modern. Honestly, I suggest just shutting off your brain and enjoying the story lmao

CW: vague mentions of antisemitism and homophobia

As always, if you see any typos no you didn't

(also this is like 4k so buckle in bois)

----

Steve's car has officially given up on life. Honestly, he's surprised it even managed to live this long. For all it's been through, it probably deserves some rest and TLC. Steve just wishes it could have demanded that rest and TLC on any other day.

Because it's Friday. Because it's Shabbat. Because he's about to have a mob of concerned elderly members of his temple crowding his door if he doesn't go to services tonight, and that's not something he wants his neighbors to see.

He considers calling Robin, but she won't be much help. She might be his Emergency Goy, but she doesn't have a car. Now that he's thinking about it, Robin may not be the best Emergency Goy, not that he'd ever tell her that.

He knows one other person with a car, of course, but that means he has to call Eddie. Not that Steve has anything against him, of course, but Eddie makes him feel a lot of things that he's not quite ready to confront just yet.

Steve frowns, staring at the phone for a long moment, trying to come up with any other option.

Steve comes up empty.

Shit.

He takes a deep breath and takes the phone off the receiver, slowly punching in the numbers as though he'll suddenly have an epiphany before he's finished dialing.

Unfortunately, he doesn't, and the phone is now ringing. It rings twice before getting picked up, Eddie's familiar voice saying, "You've reached Casa de Munson. The fuck do you want?"

"Do you always answer the phone like that?" Steve asks, momentarily forgetting about the favor he was planning to ask.

He hears Eddie hum and can practically picture the way he's now leaning against the wall next to the phone, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Stevie. What, pray tell, has you calling me?" he asks.

Steve almost hangs up. This is already stressful for him. What if Eddie doesn't agree? Worst, what if he does? Wouldn't that mean Eddie is going to see a part of himself that nobody but Robin has seen? That's fucking terrifying. What if Eddie suddenly hates him?

"I, uh, I need a favor," Steve admits.

"What kind of favor?"

If he wanted, Steve could just lie. It wouldn't be his first time lying about Friday plans. "My car won't start," Steve says, hesitating for a second more before continuing, "and I need a ride to the next town tonight."

"Gee, Harrington, get invited to a party?" Eddie asks, a slight edge to his voice that Steve can't quite place.

"What? No. I...it's not a party, okay? This is really important to me, man. Can you give me a ride or should I ask someone else?"

Maybe Hopper or Joyce would have enough time to give him a ride. He just needs to be dropped off. Getting back...can be a bridge he crosses when he comes to it.

"What time would we be getting back?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve from his thoughts.

"Probably after nine. And we need to be there at six, so that means leaving here no later than five," Steve says, trying to ignore the growing hope and sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. "I know it's really last minute, but you could spend the night at my place after. If you want."

"Will it be fun?"

"Uh, maybe? I don't know, man, it kinda depends. I find it fun, but you might get...bored," Steve says. Or offended. Maybe infuriated? Maybe betrayed that this is a whole part of Steve's life he's never hinted at.

"You're being real mysterious about all this, big boy."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just hard to explain."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm bored and curious."

----

On the drive, Eddie keeps trying to figure out where Steve is directing him. He keeps asking questions, Steve keeps dodging them, and that feeling of inevitable dread keeps growing.

Of course, all that dodging is rendered obsolete as Eddie pulls into a parking spot and shuts off the van. A few families are walking into the temple, some parents glancing curiously at the unfamiliar van, some glancing suspiciously, and some too distracted by kids to notice.

"Uh, are you sure this is the place?" Eddie asks, frowning slightly as he looks at the temple and then at Steve.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, his hands nervously gripping the material of his sweater. "I'm Jewish," he blurts out, feeling his face burning. When a few seconds pass without any response, he burns holes into a tree outside and adds, "It's Friday night services. Shabbat. I've missed too many because of...you know. The, um, the Rabbi called and asked if I was okay, and I promised to be at services tonight. You don't have to stay if you don't feel comfortable."

"You don't look Jewish."

Steve tenses, jerking his head to look at Eddie. There's no malice in his eyes. No suspicion, either, thankfully. He just looks...confused. "What's a Jew supposed to look like?" Steve asks in return, wondering if Eddie even knows that he's toeing the edge of the antisemitic swimming pool.

Eddie opens his mouth before closing it again. "Uh...I don't know, actually. Just...not you, I guess?"

Okay. Yeah. Steve can deal with this. He forces himself to relax. "Well, Jews come in all shapes and sizes," he says. He hesitates before deciding to get a burning question out of the way. "Are you angry?"

"What the fuck would I be angry about?"

"That I didn't tell you. That I was Jewish. To be fair, only Robin knows."

Eddie shakes his head, turning in his seat to face Steve. "No, Stevie, I'm not angry. I mean, I live in Hawkins, too. Not exactly the place to be standing out unless you wanna get accused of murder."

Despite himself, Steve can't help snorting at that. He takes a deep breath, the last bit of tension leaving his shoulders. "Well, uh, do you want to stay for services?" he asks.

"Can I? I'm not Jewish. And I'm dressed like this," Eddie says, gesturing at his clothes.

A Hellfire Club shirt, denim vest, gaudy rings, and dark jeans. It's incredibly Eddie, and something about it reassures Steve. He says, "You're with me, so not being Jewish is fine. And your clothes are okay, too. It's not formal."

"My shirt literally says Hellfire."

"Well, it's a good thing Judaism doesn't really have a hell."

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds, clearly full of questions, but then he just nods and climbs out of the van. Steve blinks and scrambles out as well, wanting to create some kind of buffer between Eddie and the congregation members who see a stranger and instantly become defensive.

The moment he's shut the door, he hears a little kid shout excitedly, "Steve!"

He whirls around in time to see a young girl rush across the parking lot, much to the shock and concern of her guardian. Thankfully, there aren't any cars, so the girl is unimpeded in her rush to Steve.

Eddie comes around the side of the van just in time to see the girl launch herself at Steve, giggling when he lifts her up and spins. "Yael! Have you gotten bigger?" he asks, smiling brightly as he comes to a stop and sets her on his waist.

Yael returns his smile with a grin of her own, tilting her head up so he can clearly see the brand-new gap in her teeth. "I lost a tooth! See? It came out last week," she tells him, practically bouncing in his arms.

By now, Yael's grandfather has reached them, smiling indulgently. "Yael," he says, his voice gentle but firm, "you know better than to run across parking lots." When she mumbles an apology, he looks at Steve, his smile turning warm. "Steve, it's been a few weeks. I'm glad to see you again, and you've even brought a friend."

Steve returns the smile and nods, shifting closer to Eddie. "Yeah, things got a little...chaotic in Hawkins. Oh. Mr. Adler, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, Elijah Alder."

Mr. Adler's eyes light up, and Steve suddenly remembers something incredibly embarrassing. "Oh?" he says, looking at Eddie with renewed interest, "So this is the famous Eddie Munson? I'm glad to see you've healed well."

Eddie blinks, glancing at Steve. "Uh, thanks. How'd you know?"

"Steve asked the Rabbi to include you during the Mi Shebeirach."

"The Misha what now?"

"Mi Shebeirach," Steve says, gently nudging Eddie with his elbow. "It's a prayer for healing."

Mr. Adler nods once, his eyes practically dancing with new gossip. "Oh, yes, you've created quite the stir among the Sisterhood, you know. They have a backlog of Mi Shebeirach cards and nowhere to send them."

Steve translates that information as "the old ladies have been dying to know who this mysterious Eddie Munson is, so Steve had better brace himself." His smile becomes a little strained. "Well, let's get it over with, then."

Mr. Adler nods and gestures for Steve and Eddie to follow as he leads them toward the temple. While they walk, Yael looks at Eddie, her eyes wide. "Why is your hair so long?" she asks.

"Cuz I like it that way."

"Oh. Why are you wearing rings?"

"Because they're cool."

"Oh. Why did you need healing?"

"I was hurt really bad."

"Oh. By what?"

"A bear."

"Oh. Are you Steve's friend?"

Eddie glances at Steve, meeting his eyes for a brief second before smiling at Yael. "Yeah, Stevie and I are best friends."

Yael smiles right back. "Steve is my best friend, too! He's super strong and can carry me without getting tired and makes the best hamentaschen at Purim!"

"Yael," Mr. Adler says, cutting off any continuation of the conversation as they reach the doors of the temple. "Why don't you go let the Rabbi know Steve has joined us?"

Her entire face lights up with joy. "Okay!" she shouts, wiggling in Steve's arms until he lets her down. She tugs open the door, straining until Steve smiles and helps her. "Thanks! Bye, Steve!"

With that, she dashes into the temple, her voice carrying Steve's name into the room full of other people. When almost all of them, including three children that Steve can see, stop what they're doing and look over at the door, Mr. Adler says from behind Steve and Eddie, "Brace yourselves, my boys. The wolves have appeared."

Steve groans as Mr. Adler pushes them both inside. "Should I be worried?" Eddie whispers, leaning in closer to Steve as the door shuts behind them.

"I apologize in advance," Steve tells him.

Despite his words, he has a large grin as the three kids shout his name and rush over, much like Yael did. They're followed by a few teenagers and their parents. The kids pounce on Steve, two holding onto his biceps and hanging from them as he raises his arms while the third clings to his leg.

"Where ya been?" one of the teens asks, her hair pulled back into a ponytail so permed it looks ready to burst.

"Yeah, man, I've been manning the oneg table by myself," another teen says, his arms crossed over a Metallica shirt. He's got piercings climbing up one ear and through an eyebrow, and his gaze moves to Eddie as he speaks, taking in the other boy. "Who's this?"

"Yeah," another girl asks, smiling at Eddie and batting her eyes in a way that makes even Steve feel uncomfortable, "who's your friend, Steve?"

"Kids," an older woman says, pushing her way through them, "you know better than to crowd. Shouldn't you be passing out prayer books right now?" Once she's managed to shoo the teens away, she turns her gaze on the children still clinging to Steve. "And you three, I heard Mrs. Rost needs help in the kitchen. Something about there being too many cookies to platter all by herself."

Steve suddenly finds himself weightless as the kids abandon him, dashing down the hall toward the kitchen. He smiles with slight relief and looks at the woman. "Thanks," he says, rolling his shoulders.

"Of course, Steve. Now, who's your friend?" she asks, looking Eddie up and down curiously.

"Oh, right. Uh. Rabbi, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, this is Rabbi Sara. I, um, I was hoping he could sit in on services tonight?"

Rabbi Sara immediately smiles at them. She holds out her hand to Eddie, shaking firmly when he returns the gesture. "Of course! I'm glad to see you're doing better, Eddie. We've been a bit worried about you here," she says. She glances around before leaning in and conspiratorially whispering, "There's a betting pool on whether his name would be added to the Mourner's Kiddish."

Steve snorts, knowing exactly which members would have started that bet. "Yeah, well, tell Diane and Yakov they've lost."

Rabbi Sara barely holds back her laughter, nodding once as she lets go of Eddie's hand. "Well, how about I spare you boys from socializing more," she offers.

When Steve nods, she gestures for them to follow her, leading the way to the sanctuary. He glances at Eddie as they walk, taking in the way he's tugging on a lock of hair and looking at the hall around them. "You doing okay?" Steve whispers, leaning in closer.

Eddie glances at him, is silent for a few minutes, and then says, "It's a lot to take in."

"Service will be easier. Lots of music. You'll like it," Steve promises, smiling reassuringly at Eddie. He hesitates before adding, "And if you want to leave, just let me know. The important part was making sure people saw I wasn't dead."

That's not entirely true. Steve doesn't want to leave the Shabbat service. He misses the routine of it and the feeling of togetherness as everyone sings. But Eddie's comfort is taking precedence here; he's already given Steve a ride and has begun subjecting himself to Steve's nosy congregation. Leaving early if he gets overwhelmed is the least Steve can do, really.

The teen in the Metallica shirt, Sam, holds out two prayer books when Rabbi Sara leads them to the sanctuary doors. His gaze lingers on Eddie for a few seconds more before asking, "Dude, do I know you?"

Eddie blinks and raises an eyebrow. "I don't know. Do you?"

Their gazes hold for nearly a minute before Sam's eyes widen and light with recognition. Steve is bracing himself for the worst (you know, devil worshipper, accused murderer, wannabe criminal, take your pick). Instead, Sam grins and says, "Yeah, I totally do! You're in that band, yeah? The one that plays at Hideout sometimes? Corroded Coffin. Your music is metal, man."

Eddie returns Sam's grin, throwing an arm over his shoulders and leaning in close. "You know, you're alright. Always happy to meet a fan. What's your favorite song?"

"You played that new one last Saturday. Bats, I think. It spoke to me, man."

Steve stares at Eddie, wondering how he missed the fact that Corroded Coffin started playing gigs again. A curl of something like regret or maybe hurt begins to build in his stomach, and he's almost overtaken by it when Eddie nods and says, "Oh, yeah, that one's about Stevie."

"Oohh, dude, that makes so much sense now."

"You wrote a song about me?" Steve asks, successfully regaining Eddie's attention.

Apparently, Eddie sort of forgot he was there. His relaxed posture becomes a little awkward, and he removes his arm from Sam's shoulder. He clears his throat, tugging a lock of hair in front of his mouth as he says, "Yeah. Is, uh, is that a problem?"

"No," Steve says, feeling a reassuring smile tug at his lips, "but you should play it for me sometime."

"This is all very touching," a voice says behind them, "but can you take the flirting inside the sanctuary? We still need our prayer books."

Steve jolts and looks behind them, laughing awkwardly when he sees Rivkah, a woman in her early 30s, and her partner, Tamar. "Sorry," he says, grabbing Eddie's arm and dragging him through the doors.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie whispers, allowing himself to be pulled over to some chairs near the left corner of the sanctuary, "is everything okay? Like...are we...safe?"

It takes a moment for Steve to understand what Eddie means. Like, of course, he can't guarantee their safety. It's a synagogue. Every person here old enough to understand the world knows the risk, the potential for one person to show up and wreak utter destruction. Steve is about to say as much (and explain the temple's "worst case scenario" game plan) when he notices Eddie glancing at Rivkah and Tamar.

A light bulb practically clicks on above him, and he almost laughs at himself. He sits down and tugs Eddie into the seat next to him. "Yeah, we're safe, Eds," he promises, smiling softly when Eddie looks at him. "Rivkah and Tamar are married. I attended the ceremony. It was very nice. Tamar broke the glass."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly, and he looks around the sanctuary with renewed interest. His gaze especially lingers on the people that file in, taking in the couples and families and groups that wouldn't make much sense outside the temple's doors. Steve is content to let him look, allowing himself to relax back into the seat and wait.

After almost 15 minutes, Rabbi Sara approaches the bema and smiles at everyone. "Good evening, and Shabbat Shalom," she says, nodding along as her greeting is returned. "I'm glad to see so many familiar faces tonight. And some new ones. The week has been long for some of us, but it's now come to an end, and we have gathered to celebrate its end, another week's beginning, and being together. Now, please open your books to page 47 for the L'cha Dodi."

Steve flips open his book as Anna, the cantor and the same girl who tried to flirt with Eddie, starts playing the guitar next to Rabbi Sara. "Uh, the book is backward," Eddie whispers, leaning close to Steve.

"Hebrew is written right to left," Steve explains, taking Eddie's book and opening it to the right page. "Also, don't worry about singing along. Just try to follow. If you don't know where we are, just nudge me. I'll point you to the right spot."

Eddie nods, looking almost overwhelmed, but Rabbi Sara starts singing before Steve can reassure him verbally. Instead, he just shifts so their shoulders are pressed together, flashing a tiny smile when Eddie looks at him before joining the rest of the congregation in singing.

Steve has to point Eddie at the right line a few times, but he doesn't mind. He's memorized the prayer by now, and the book is really just for show. He pulls Eddie up with the rest of the congregation during the L'cha Dodi, turns him to the sanctuary doors, and places a hand on his back to gently nudge him into a bow. Eddie blinks through it, following along but seeming overwhelmed by the entire process. When the prayer is finished and Rabbi Sara invites them to greet each other, Steve looks at Eddie with a smile (one of the most genuine smiles he's had in weeks), holds out his hand, and says, "Shabbat Shalom, Eddie."

Eddie doesn't hesitate to take his hand, leaning in close and returning the smile. "Shabbat Shalom?" he asks, speaking slowly to test the words and let Steve approve of the pronunciation. When Steve nods, Eddie's smile grows wider, and he whispers, "Shabbat Shalom, sweetheart."

That...that's a new nickname. And Steve doesn't know what to do with it. Maybe Eddie just wanted the pseudo-alliteration, but his smile says otherwise, and Steve feels like he's frozen in place.

And then a few of the kids dash over to him, shouting, "Shabbat Shalom!" at the top of their lungs and practically fighting to shake his hand first. Steve would feel honored if he didn't know they raced to beat each other to every adult.

After greeting, they light the candles. After lighting the candles, Rabbi Sara leads them into the next prayer, the rest of the service flowing smoothly with her as their guide.

The service is (beautifully, wonderfully, incredibly, thankfully) the same as always. Prayers are sung, and Steve can practically feel them in his bones. He's never been particularly religious (his mother would say they're more culturally Jewish than anything else), but he can't deny that the sound of over 50 people, young and old and in-between, singing together is an otherworldly experience.

They are singing a language that only a few of them actually know how to speak. Steve is reading a language that he wouldn't recognize outside of the prayer book. It's disconcerting as always, but also special, because he shares in the ignorance and devotion wrapped into singing words he wouldn't understand without the book's translation on the opposite page.

The Mi Shebeirach and the Mourner's Kiddish are Steve's sign that service is almost over. And for the first time in forever, Steve doesn't speak any names when Rabbi Sara calls for them. He sinks back into his seat, an unfamiliar relief easing tension he didn't even know he had anymore. But it's true. Everyone is fine, and they've all healed, and Steve no longer has to say Max's name or Will's or Hopper's or Eddie's. He no longer has to dodge questions or call up the Rabbi and ask her to include an extra name in the service.

And this realization, the sheer relief he feels at the simple act of staying quiet when Rabbi Sara's gaze sweeps past him, is almost enough to bring him to tears. His throat gets tight, his eyes burn, and his voice almost cracks when he joins the rest of the congregation in singing for those in need of healing and those who have passed.

Eddie nudges him gently, and Steve glances at him and then at their shared armrest. Eddie's hand is lying palm-up, a silent invitation, and Steve doesn't hesitate to accept. He slips his hand into Eddie's, interlocking their fingers, and feels infinitely better when Eddie squeezes his hand gently.

----

"So," Steve says, refraining from getting up as others file out of the sanctuary, practically tripping over kids racing to reach the oneg brownies first, "did you...like it?"

Eddie is silent for a few minutes, staring down at their hands. Steve almost pulls away, an apology ready on his tongue, when Eddie squeezes his hand tighter. "Yeah. It was...different. But good. I...there was more singing than I expected."

Steve grins, glancing up to see the sanctuary has mostly cleared, and stands. He pulls Eddie up with him. "Yeah, we sing most of our prayers. It's nice."

"It is," Eddie agrees, still looking a little lost for words.

Steve doesn't push. Instead, he pulls, leading Eddie out of the sanctuary. He gives their prayer books to Sam, grabs two tiny, sample-sized cups of Manischewitz wine, and gives one to Eddie. "Don't drink it yet," he says, nodding to where Rabbi Sara has her own cup and is waiting for the rest to be passed around.

Once everyone is ready, she blesses the wine, blesses the challah, and invites them all to drink and eat. Steve braces himself before knocking the wine back, the strong, warm grape flavor coating his tongue, vaguely reminiscent of cough medicine. He sees the same grimace on Eddie's face. "This is shit wine," Eddie whispers, his nose still scrunched as he tosses the cup into the trashcan like he can't get rid of it fast enough.

"Yeah. It's specifically for services," Steve says, "it's not supposed to be good."

"Right," Eddie mumbles, glancing at the oneg table, his eyes lingering on the desserts laid out. "Do you wanna stick around? You know, talk to people?"

Usually, Steve would. He likes catching up with the kids and teens, likes ganging up on them when their parents come around and playfully scold them, and he likes hearing the most recent temple gossip. But as he looks at Eddie, feels their hands still tightly holding onto each other, Steve finds he doesn't mind leaving early.

So, he leans in closer to Eddie and grins at him. "Or," he whispers, "we could steal an extra pack of brownies from the kitchen, sneak out the back, and eat them on the drive home."

Eddie returns the grin, amusement and eagerness practically dancing in his eyes, and says, "You read my mind, sweetheart."

Later, when Eddie pulls into Steve's driveway after an hour-long ride spent eating brownies, explaining different prayers, and telling him about old temple gossip, a different kind of tension will start to fester between them. Steve will delay getting out of the car, Eddie won't comment on it, and they'll slowly gravitate toward each other.

And they'll kiss. It will be awkward and taste like chocolate and end far too quickly, but it will be perfect.

Steve will pull away, a faint blush rising and his heart racing faster than it ever did with Nancy, and shyly offer to let Eddie spend the night. And Eddie will accept and spend the night and ask to attend Shabbat with Steve again and...

And so much more.

But for now, while he has no clue of the future that's about to start after an hour's drive, Steve glances around the crowded hall and pulls Eddie toward the kitchen.

After all, they've got brownies to steal.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #jewish steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #my writing #this is so fucking self indulgent guys

[moonlit-imagines]

Robin and the Stray (Part 2)

Dick Grayson x Kyle!reader

warnings: blood n death ment and urge to puke teehee

a/n:

prompt:

part 1

Joining the Titans wasn’t exactly something you had in mind. The Titans were all kind-hearted heroic-types with these clear cut motives and tragic or powerful backstories that drove them to do good. You were here for two reasons: Dick moved to the other side of the country and you were being “rehabilitated” from your kleptomanic ways while Selina was serving a short sentence.

It felt awkward being in their presence, every glance felt like a glare. They must be thinking how dare y/n stand and fight beside us, theyre nothing but a common criminal, a petty thief, we can’t trust them. Dick had always assured you that they didn’t think less of you, but when anything was misplaced they always seemed to look to you for an answer.

You and Dick had been together for a few years now, and not all of those years were you a cat burglar. Maybe here and there, mostly for kicks or just to prove you still had it in you. Sometimes just to mess with Dick and Bruce. But Dick never stopped trusting you, he found it amusing more than anything and you grew to love each other deeply. Nothing could change that.

You were already sort of a vigilante before you were inducted into the Titans, usually sticking to the lower levels of Gotham and helping women steal their purses back or a kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Stuff like that. Unless, you know, Batman and Robin needed a hand.

As far as the Titans went, you were genuinely happy in San Francisco. It was a nice change of scenery after growing up in dark and gloomy Gotham. Dick felt free without Bruce standing by, doing what he could to make you feel comfortable here. Taking you on dates to new restaurants and going to beaches on your days off became a regular thing, something to make you forget you felt like you didn’t belong.

You had your own room, which was a nice change considering you and Selina typically shared or one of you slept on the couch or somewhere else depending on the night. Although, you spent most of your time in Dick’s room, it was hard to sleep alone most nights, he was like home to you. He’d mindlessly play with your hair and rubbed you back to ease your worried mind. He kept you sane.

But missions were different in so many ways. You had each other’s backs, sure, but you knew well enough that the two of you were more than capable of handling yourselves. Years of fighting against each other and beside each other made the team observer you two in awe, your fluid teamwork was incredible. To you, it was just another day.

“You okay?” Dick asked with your cheeks in his hands, looking down at you with a wet washcloth pressed between your cheek and his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re concussed, I’ll have to stay up all night with you.” You both chuckled weakly.

“I’m fine, just wiped from the past few nights.” You sighed as he wiped grime and blood from your face. You winced when he brushed against just below your eyelid where a bruise was budding. “I really got my ass beat tonight, huh?”

“We all did.” Dick wiped stray hairs from your forehead. “You seemed distracted, though. Thinking of me?”

“Gotham. Just homesick.” You told him and he kissed your forehead and continued you clean your wounds. He was pretty banged up, too, but he could tell you needed some TLC. “I love it here, but you know. I miss all that stuff. I miss Selina. I miss my cats. I miss Commissioner Gordon giving me shit for stealing and then helping him. I miss Bruce giving us lectures about staying focused. I miss Alfred trying to give us ‘The Talk.’” You rambled on while Dick nodded along, and your dull laughter caused another wince as you realized you maybhave a bruised or broken rib. “I miss you sometimes.”

“I’m right here.” He told you.

“Will you always be?” You asked.

“If all goes well.” He pulled out some bandages.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You continued to question.

“It means I don’t know the future and I won’t promise something I might not be able to control.” Dick explained in his smart-ass way. “It’s just the job, y/n. You know I love you.”

“I know you love the job.” You said tilting your head down and eyes up before he picked your chin back up.

“I don’t.” He replied.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Your sigh left his stomach slightly drop and you slid down off the table you were perched on. “I have to get a quick shower in, I’ll be back.” You trotted off the the bathroom to do so and left Dick alone with his thoughts, which you might have sparked something in him at this time. Unbeknownst to the two of you and the rest of the team, your lives were about to b me turned upside down in the worst of ways when Deathstroke entered your lives.

Your head was spinning at the time you heard the news of Garth’s passing. You fell into Dick’s arms and he held you so tightly. You felt as if you might puke and the rest of the team was right with you. Any barrier keeping you and them was broken down, there was no more tension or fear that kept you from getting close, the grief brought you all together.

It was Donna who apologized to you first, letting you know your worries were not that far off and there was a lot of distrust in you, but they moved on from it. It was the load off you needed after this tragedy. And Dick felt guilty he put you in that position, started blaming himself for so many things. You’d thought he’d get distant in all this anguish, but he wouldn’t let you go. He held on tight and began to worry for you more than usual, which worried you greatly. And it sucked because after all that happened with the Titans, you two had no choice but to go home.

“It’s what you wanted, right?” He asked you on the plane ride home, sitting across from each other on Bruce’s private jet.

“Not like this,” you stared out the window, picking at the seams of your jeans, “I just started feeling like I belonged. Now I’m leaving a place that felt like paradise. I really did love it there.”

“We can go other places. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” Dick leaned forward and grabbed your hand. “I hate this, too. I love you, though. Wherever you go, I’ll go. It’s fine.” You closed your eyes and nodded.

“For now we’re going home.”

And you were home and it was dull and lifeless and you felt all the joy you had slip away as you fell back into old habits. Started to realize you stole because you were bored, you roamed the same streets and rooftops over and over because it was just what you did, you laod around all day and played with the cats but nothing was ever different. Not even when there was some huge debacle with a villain that belonged in Arkham Asylum. Not Two-Face or Riddler or Joker or Mr. Freeze or whoever’s weekly turn it was to enact a failure-destined plan to take over Gotham or kill Batman. It was all the same.

You sat on the same ledges and ate the same Pizza with Dick. You had meals at Wayne Manor with Bruce and Dick, a spot reserved for the late Alfred was an unfortunate change and maybe the only one. Bruce was paying your rent, offering you a bigger place or maybe one for you and Dick to share, but for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to it. It already felt like you were taking advantage of him.

Don’t get me wrong, you loved Dick with all your heart, but he was off, too. It was obvious he fell back into his old ways. And something about it made it obvious he’d grown too fond of his life as a Titan. The independence and emancipation from Batman, where he called the shots and could do nice things with and for you. Maybe the guilt set in after another year or two or three. Because one day you were fine and the next, it was over. You looked back and realized that that promise you wanted him to make was never going to be fulfilled because he never felt secure himself. But that was his problem now, you would have helped if he’d let you.

It was awkward seeing each other in passing. After all, neither of you gave up your vigilantism. But avoidance was key. It was only a matter of time before he decided Gotham was too small for him now. You heard he’d moved to Detroit, good for him. You hoped he’d moved on and was doing well, you sure weren’t getting there anytime soon.

Then one day a few weeks later, you heard your phone ringing. Blocked Caller. You stared at the screen for a few moments grabbing the phone and holding it for a few more before you pressed the answer button. You put the phone to your ear but said nothing.

“Y/N? Y/N, it’s me. I need your help. I just—I need you.”

taglist: @volturi-stuff // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @brutal-out-here // @jinxll11 // @swanimagines // @captainshazamerica // @greek-mythographer // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @summersimmerus // @glxwingrxse // @azazel-nyx // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @azazel-nyx // @ravenstrueluv // @evilcr0ne // @sydknee624 // @retvenkos // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck //

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing #nightwing imagine #titans #titans x reader #titans imagine #dc comics #dc comics imagine #dc comics x reader

[writingsbychlo]

How did I literally just find you????? Why have I been missing out??? Why did no one tell me?? I basically binge read all of your acotar work in the last week and each one filled me with so many emotions I cannot express. I think the one that hit me the hardest was How To Save A Life. Something about Rhys getting the TLC he needed while under the mountain made me so soft 💔 I saw some people asked about a part 2, but even if you don’t write a full fic (not that you have to write anything at all) I was just wondering if you have any blurbs or headcanons about how you imagined it would go if the story continued after coming out from utm? I read it romantically but bff!rhys would also be so so cute

Side note: sin Sunday was just… 🥵🥵

BFF!RHYS IS SO SO SO CUTE!!

he would take such good care of her, taking her back to his home with the IC and introducing them, and getting all embarrassed about himself everytime he showers her with what he considers normal and she considers a wild show of wealth.

"rhys, what the fuck is that?"

"a horse."

"why is it here?"

"I bought it for you!"

"you can't just—"

or

"rhys. stop it."

"I'm not doing anything."

"I can see you itching to throw money at the problem."

"ITS JUST THAT I COULD FIX IT SO MUCH BETTER WITH MONEY."

and

"how much did that dress cost?"

"I'm not telling you."

"ballpark it."

"more than your current rent, less than the house I wanted to buy you.

"oh my gods."

#q.

[animeniac-writings]

Taking Care of Sick Denji

Anime/Manga: Chainsaw Man

Summary: Denji gets sick, and finally has someone there to take care of him.

Denji's never had anyone take care of him while he was sick.

He gets sick at least once every winter, and it is absolutely miserable. And with no medicine, no proper warmth, and no one to take care of him in the least, to say Denji dreads flu season would be a major understatement.

He feels sick just thinking about laying on the floor of a freezing shack that Denji isn't sure is better or worse with a burning fever, chills making his teeth chatter and head ache, a stomach so hungry but churning so bad he couldn't keep bread down if he had it, even Pochita's attempts to comfort him aren't much when his waking moments and dreams meld into delusions around him.

And so, just like every other sickness, when Denji wakes aching like he was body slammed by a bus and a sore throat that he knows will just get worse, he barricades himself in his room to endure it by himself as always.

He doesn't tell Power or Aki but when he isn't up for breakfast, Aki peaks in his room to check that he's not gone or dead.

Seeing that he obviously isn't feeling well, and assuming he took some cough syrup from the bathroom cabinet, Aki lets him be. Power already ate his meal anyway.

You though, upon not being physically tackled by your excited puppy of a boyfriend on entering the apartment, are confused.

Asking Aki if he was out on a mission and becoming much more concerned when he assures you Denji is just resting.

Seeing that you're quickly jumping to thoughts about him having been injured on a mission, Aki once again tries to soothe you saying he just seems under the weather, and was still in bed.

Honestly you were a little surprised he could get sick considering all the wounds and limb loss he bounces back from.

But that was a wonder for another time, your baby, and you can just imagine now how whiny he must be sick, is in need of some proper tlc.

So when you gentle knock on his door with no response, and open up to find him curled around his pillow, motionless, with his blanket kicked to the floor and shaggy hair stuck to his face from sweat, your worries return.

Denji's already progessed into the delirious stage when you come in and press a cool hand against his burning forehead.

He looks up at you, blurry and unfocused, and thinks he sees an angel. One of his dreams back, come to take him away. Or maybe laugh in his face, dreams are unpredictable. Especially sick ones.

He groans and weakly tries to get you to stop "manhandling him" (in his own, irritating grumbles.) as you try and make him sit up, asking when he last took some medicine, to which he's even more confused, mumbling something along the lines of

"yer a pretty dream, but lemme alone" before flopping back onto his side with a miserable wheeze and diving back into a fitful sleep.

With a concerned frown you go and ask if Aki knows the last time he had any medicine, who wasn't sure but he'd been cooped up in his room long enough for another dose at least.

When you return to his room a short while later, Denji's at least a little more coherent when you wake him again, and groggily obeys when you tell him to sit up, clinging to sleep but following your instructions to lean forward for you to put a fluffed pillow behind his back.

He wakes up a bit more when he sees the steaming bowl you'd brought in with you, trying to sniff and getting a miserable failure with a painfully clogged nose and giving a pitiful groan instead.

What kind of nightmare is this, there's food right there and he can't even smell it. Honestly when he thinks again, stomach turning, that maybe that's better.

Denji's brought back to reality when you kneel on the bed beside him, wiping a cool damp rag arcross his forehead and replacing it with your lips gently on his brow, pulling back with a mumble of "far too warm…"

He can't help it, even sick he just stares at you, wide eyes and mouth hanging open. This can't be real, especially when you pick up the bowl, blowing on a spoonful and lifting it to his lips.

"Eat as much as you can, then you can sleep."

Denji doesn't know what this is, or what this feeling is, but takes the spoonful, bland, warm, caring. He swears it tastes like being cared for, and tears well up in his eyes.

He finishes the entire bowl of soup, to your happy unsurprise. You'd truly be worried if he didn't eat, and even sick he seemed rather content with being spoon fed the entire thing.

Afterwards bringing out a tin of vapor rub and startling him with the request to take off his shirt.

"W-what? now??" it's comical the bright red of his face on top of the fever.

"I could help you if you want Denji?" He strips before you can assist, chest heaving from the effort and aching from the effort.

You can't help but chuckle at how he's holding his breath while you rub gel onto his chest and back, then helping him put his shirt back on and fixing him to properly sit elevated against the pillows.

"It'll help you breathe better."

Pressing another lingering kiss to his forehead before stepping back.

"I'm going to get you some medicine, don't fall asleep yet."

Denji's not convinced he isn't asleep right now, is it possible to feel like absolute shit but also the best he's ever been at the same time?

"This is a pretty great dream, right Pochita?"

When you return with a dark blue bottle, filling a small plastic cup, he's happy to go along with whatever you want.

Forehead kisses, extra pillows, back rubs and spoon fed soup, he's more than willing to go along with anything you tell him to do.

"It'll help you sleep too." you say with a smile.

"Take the whole thing in one gulp. it'll be easier." A gentle, caring smile.

The second the thick, potent liquid hits his tongue Denji can pinpoint where this dream became a nightmare.

Choking on blue poison sends him into a coughing fit, you try to pat his back to soothe him and he just glares at you with such betrayal, when did his sweet angel become such a horrible, wicked devilman?

He could barely taste your soup but he's certain he'll taste "Nyquil" as it kills him, a shiver down his spine at a nastiness he's never felt.

Maybe it was better being sick alone in the shack.

To make matters worse you still smile softly at him, tucked an extra blanket around him cozy, and pressing another kiss to his hair.

"I brought you some cough drops too, and I'll be here if you need anything else."

A strange warmth builds up in his chest again at your words.

And he rethinks, or maybe not.

#Denji x reader #Denji csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw main imagine #my stuff

[heartfullofleeches]

can i wish good morning, evening, afternoon, night to the lil bird?

morning cuddles and sleep well kisses.

fck the illness, doc needs tlc

He's always gone by morning.

And its getting on your last nerve. Mal was a saint in every other aspect of your relationship- something you didn't quite expect from the one who's been following you home for months, but you made your peace with once it was clear he would be a permanent entity in your life. Weekly check ups, breakfast waiting for you on the table, long chats well into the eve. These moments were times you wouldn't trade for anything, but there was one issuse separating the two of you.

Intimacy.

Mal has never touched you for long, the current record being roughly two minutes. You have never experienced skin to skin contact with him and likely never would. You understood this was due to his illness, as vague as he was about it - but you still longed for some resemblance of domestic bliss. It was driving you mad, and you could tell he felt the same pain. There were times he lost himself in the moment and reached out to touch you, just to pull away before either of your needs could be met. He declared his undying love to you in every way imaginable without taking that final step. And tonight you were going to cross that bridge for him.

-

"Goodnight, Dove." Mal tucks your blankets up to your shoulder and fluffs your pillow, placing two fingers where his lips should be and setting them against yours. For this ritual, he swapped his usual leather gloves for a lacey pair just a hair thinner. It was the closest you'd ever gotten to a real kiss or feeling his skin. You could see and even feel the protruding veins along the flesh of his palms.

"Night"

He heads over to his side of the room and climbs in bed, turning away from you as he lifts his mask and removes the same pair of glasses beneath. He puts them on the nightstand and turns off the lamp, facing you as he lies down.

"Do you have any preferences for breakfast?"

You remain quiet, shutting your eyes and breathing through your mouth to simulate sleeping. You hear him shift around in bed.

"Have you fallen asleep already? I suppose being so enchanting can be taxing on a person. Sleep well, my love."

Mal gets comfortable and attempts to fall asleep himself. With how much work he does and the physical tax his condition takes, the doctor is out like a light. You wait a couple more minutes before creeping out of bed and over to his to check. Mal was a surprisingly heavy sleeper, but you wanted nothing jeopardizing your palm.

After flicking his nose and poking various areas of his body, you consider it save to climb in. You get in his bed and snuggle up to his side, resting your head on his shoulder. He leans into your embrace, the hand resting over his chest shifting onto yours. It was just normal tossing and turning, but you like to think that it's his body unconsciously giggling in to what he needs. You kiss the tip of his beak and fall asleep for the first time in a while without trouble.

-

Mal wakes up to the bleeding sunlight scorching his eyes. The left side of his body feels heavy and his neck is sweaty. He could've sworn he took another dosage of medication before heading to bed. He tries to get up, but can't. Upon inspection he finds that the fluid isn't sweat - it's drool, and the weight on his chest was not from his body failing on him. He fights back a scream as your eyes open. You wipe the sleep from them and kiss his cheek.

"Good morning."

The lens of his mask fog as he hyperventilates. "Y/n? What on earth are you doing here? How long have you been here?"

"Since you fell asleep."

"Since I- Good God, Y/n. That's roughly seven hours you've been in contact. We have to get you to my office."

You yank him back down as he tries to get up. "Five more minutes...."

"Five more minutes?!" Mal hates to raise his voice, but his anxiety levels are through the roof. "You could be dead in five minutes, Y/n. Or much worse. Please, this is serious."

"So am I. You say you love me, but you feel so distance. We sleep in different beds for christ sake. I know you want to protect me, but we've been living together for months. Don't you want this too?"

Of course he does. It was all he ever dreamed of, but it was too dangerous. You grab his hand, locking your fingers with his. They're so cold, completely draining your skin of warmth - but you don't mind. Mal struggles to breath as you bring it to your cheek, trying so hard not to give in to your embrace.

"Just five minutes.. Please Mal."

Mal lays back down, thankful for his mask's aid to hide his tears. Five minutes. That's all this would be. He had to let you go once they were up.

If that were true, then why did he stay by your side until the sun had set in a different part of the sky.

#Mal my oc #Yandere plague doctor #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #male yandere #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere fluff #soft yandere #yandere drabble

[coff33notforme]

May I have a wally X asuka! Reader? If you're not familiar with asuka soryu Langley you can just write, overconfident! Reader

A/n: Sorry this took so long to write I was getting busy with school so I've been working on that and haven't really had time to write, kinda short sorry!

Pairing: Wally Darling and Gn Overconfident Reader (Fluff, Romantic or Platonic)

Wally thinks it's adorable! Which often leads to you getting embarrassed when your trying to impress him by doing something stupid and he just pinches your cheek with a smile agreeing wholeheartedly

This of course usually leads to you trying to attempt something brave and daring without considering any of the consequences at all, and getting horribly injured, Wally of course would be concerned furthering your embarrassment but he would simply assure you that you that you would be able to get it next time, but would suggest not trying anything else too soon

While your healing Wally would take care of you like he's your own personal nurse, anything you need, he's got you! Food? Pain meds? Some TLC? Absolutely 

Your neighbors are a little weary of you two paired up

You with your overconfident charm strutting anywhere without a care in the world, while Wally follows like a lost duckling, supporting you while providing heeds of caution that usually go unheard by you as you bask in your own glory 

Frank makes sure to alert Wally whenever he's being, too, supportive

While the others like to state it a little more gently, they tend to agree, Wally seems to be your number one supporter when it comes to dangerous stunts, which is what leads to you becoming bedridden days at a time

At first your charm seems to irritate most people in the town, your cocky, overconfident nature feels more like an exaggerated television character rather than your real personality 

But whenever your with Wally you seem different

Like your cool, charismatic shell melts away and your left a fumbling mess, it was honestly quite entertaining to most of your neighbors 

But they soon realized you're not as bad as you seem, you were really quiet good company whenever Wally was around, it almost seemed like you didn’t need to be extra around him, you could just relax

#welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #welcome home wally #welcome home

[mephinomaly]

[TL] The Occasional Family TLC

Summary: Ritsu wants some attention, and Kaoru suggests he pays his brother a visit. Reluctantly, he does under the guise of passing along a message from Kaoru.

Character(s): Ritsu, Kaoru, Rei

Season: Winter

Location: Café Cinnamon

Ritsu: Yaawnnn, hng… so tired.

(The only time all of Knights were available was early in the morning so I had to get up early…)

(Everyone but me had somewhere to be afterwards, leaving me on my own. They’re all heartless.)

(I have plans in the afternoon so if I go back to sleep, I probably won’t wake back up again…)

But I’m soooo tired. Haa~...Maa-kun, help mee~

-that's what I texted him but he didn’t reply…? Oh yeah, didn’t he say he was busy with a photoshoot all day?

Even though I need to be cared for right now? Maa-kun’s a cheater~

…Maybe I’ll give up and go back to sleep.

Kaoru: I was wondering who was grumbling. What are you doing here, Ritsu-kun?

Ritsu: Ah, Kaoru-san. Finally, someone’s come to look after me~♪

Kaoru: Come to look after you…? Sorry but I’m not your guy.

I have somewhere to be after this so once I’ve finished my coffee, I need to head off.

Ritsu: Ehh~, don’t say things like that and just pay more attention to meee Kaoru-san~

Spoil me more. Spoil me like you’ve never spoiled someone before~...

Kaoru: You’re more needy than usual and you’re really begging, huh. What’s up?

Ritsu: I actually got up early yet no one congratulated me for it?

Now I’m struggling not to fall back asleep. I’ve been betrayed. I’m still waiting for my praise.

Kaoru: What an adorable reason~.

Then I’ll give you what you need. Good boy, well done on waking up early~♪

Ritsu: Nn~, that’s the stuff ♪ That’s the sort of praise I want. It would be so good if Kaoru-san was my brother…

Kaoru: I’m pretty sure Rei-kun would praise you too for working so hard.

Ritsu: Um, who is “Rei”? I’ve never heard of that person before. My onii-chan’s name is Kaoru.

Kaoru: Don’t joke around like that, okay? If Rei-kun heard, he'd burst into tears.

Ritsu: Yeah I know. But If I texted anija about it, it would create an even bigger problem.

He’d flood my inbox like he’s commenting on a video.

Kaoru: Probably. But considering it’s Rei-kun, he’d probably call you.

Ritsu: Yeah and I’d block him if he did. He’s not my brother but I’m still scared.

Kaoru: Haha…Well, Rei-kun’s used to being ignored. But I thought your relationship was on the mend after what happened during Operetta.

Ritsu: It’ll be embarrassing if I let him get too comfortable.

Anyway, Kaoru-san’s used to me acting like this anyway…

Kaoru: Yeah I guess but you should show Rei-kun some affection every once in a while.

He’s trying his best, so wouldn’t it be good to reward him for that?

Ritsu: ...

Kaoru: I’ve got it. Do you think you could pass on a message for me?

Ritsu: Ehh~. Isn’t that what HoldHands is for?

Kaoru: That doesn’t matter. And I think Rei-kun would much rather hear it from his cute younger brother ♪

Ritsu: I’m not a bootlicker. How troublesome~...

Kaoru: Please. If you have enough time to take a nap here, you can surely deliver a message for me?

Ritsu: ...Sigh, fine. I’ll sleep wherever I am, just so you know…

Kaoru: Thank you Ritsu-kun ♪

Well, I’ve got to go in a few moments.

I didn’t see Rei-kun when I went to the office earlier, so he’s probably sleeping at the dorms. It’s still early after all.

Ritsu: Okay. What am I telling him?

Location: Rei, Eichi, and Aira's dorm room

Rei: Well I never. To think the first thing I’d see when I awake would be sweet Ritsu ♪ If the day ended right now, I’d be happy.

Come hither, my lovely cute angel~! Come rest upon my lap~♪

Ritsu: No, I'm okay. More importantly, are your roommates not in?

Rei: Mhm. Tenshouin-kun and Shiratori-kun both did not return to the dorms last night. Now you can spoil me to your heart’s content~.

Ritsu: Ah, lucky me.

Rei: Say something more! If you act so uninterested you’ll hurt my feelings~

Ritsu: You’re annoying as usual. Just so you know, I’m not planning on staying long.

I’m just here to deliver a message from Kaoru-san.

Rei: Kaoru-kun? Has there been a change of plan?

Ritsu: You have a meeting about some program you’ll be in tonight, right? The meeting place has changed. Kaoru-san will tell you where later.

Rei: Ah, I see. Thank you for telling me. Then Ritsu, come here.

I must praise you for being a good, good boy for me ♪

Ritsu: How many times do I have to tell you to stop with the “good boy”? Are you so old your ears have started to rot?

Jesus, I didn’t even do much. Besides, Kaoru-san’s already given me all the TLC I need.

Rei: Fumu. I’m a little confused as to why Kaoru-kun sent you to tell me.

Surely there’s something more to it? It’s unlike you to come all this way just for that.

Ritsu: ...

Rei: You’re always welcome to come talk to me, cute Ritsu. Never hesitate to come and find your oniichan ♪

Ritsu: …Uhuh. You’re reading too much into things. I just came to deliver a message for him.

Rei: Well that doesn’t seem to be true. To go out of your way for one singular message is not very Ritsu of you.

Ritsu: You’re beyond saving, you senile old man. Can’t you just accept that that’s all there is to it?

Rei: Umu. If you insist, I suppose I’m misunderstanding.

Ritsu: …Well, even if there was another reason… which there isn’t, by the way.

That reason would be that it’s early in the morning and I was sent to deliver a message that totally could have been sent via Holdhands.

Rei: Huh…? Sorry…? W-what do you mean?

Ritsu: My loser brother’s complimentary service has run out~.

Yaawn, mm… this sucks. I can’t stop yawning so I’m going back to my room for a nap. Bye~.

Rei: ...Service?

So… could it be true that…Ritsu came to see me for the sake of…seeing me…!?

W-wait, my sweet Ritsu. If you want to take a nap you can here! We can share a bed!

I’m begging you! Let me love you with all my body, Ritsuu!

#ensemble stars #enstars #translation #ritsu sakuma #rei sakuma #kaoru hakaze

[wardenparker]

Close Encounters of the Toothy Kind

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9.2k Warnings: *Reader has a nickname right up front.* Evan being his whiny self. Alcohol consumption but no one’s judgement is impaired. Light power dynamics, biting (blood is drawn), oral sex (female receiving), hair pulling, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, monster fucking, rough sex, vampire kink/fetish. Summary: The company Halloween party is way more fun than you ever expected - even if your coworker and roommate Evan doesn’t think so. Notes: Happy Spooktober everyone! This little fangbang has been brewing in our minds for months now and it turned out even better than I ever dreamed! Smothered in pop culture references and plenty of cheeky fun. 🎃🧡🧛‍♀️ 

Ever since Max Phillips was in high school, he knew how to throw a party. It helped get him laid both there and later on in college. Even throughout getting his MBA and graduating, his attention to detail for having a good time led to some of the most memorable parties on campus. It was something he considered a little extra that he had to offer a company beyond the normal impressive résumé. Because in order to throw a great party, you had to know what people wanted. You had to read their wants through the small conversations and the body language of the person.

It was also useful in closing deals and impressing clients. Which was why he had pulled out all the stops tonight in the annual Halloween party. It wasn't just a sad, alcohol-free punch and those horrid cookies that Zarabeth makes. This is impressive. The smoke machines and black lights contrasted the disco balls that twirl overhead giving the event a truly spooky vibe.

"You'll see, Cat." Evan looks around nervously, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin under your elbow as he propels the two of you forward into the "East Ballroom" swallowing as he takes in the decorations. "I'm not crazy. Max is a vampire."

“Ev, it’s okay to just not like the guy.” Evan is an okay roommate. He really is. He’s clean and doesn’t cook horrible food, and he’s even handy with a toolkit when things need a little TLC. But this crusade he’s been on against your boss is just insane. Pulling at your tight Camp Crystal Lake t-shirt and smoothing your short shorts, you’ll be the first to admit that you took the easy way out with your costume this year, but Friday the 13th camp counselor was just too good to pass up. The Halloween store in town even had knee socks with Jason’s hockey mask on them to go with your Keds sneakers. “Let’s just have a couple of drinks and hang out. Maybe not get weird over your obsessive hatred of our boss?”

"I'm telling you he's a vampire!" Evan hisses, the cords in his neck bulging and he doesn't understand why you don't believe him. He looks around and groans, rolling his eyes and pointing. "He's even mocking it. Look at him." Max smirks as he watches you and Evan at the entrance of the ball room. Evan looked panicked and pale. He wonders if the poor schmuck is still trying to convince everyone that he's a vampire. It is so much fun to watch him freak out like the obsessive little turd that he is and push everyone away with his theories. Amanda had finally dumped him for good and started dating Andrew, which was a much better prospect for her in Max's opinion. He takes his eye off you and checks the buffet table again. The caterer that he had chosen had promised him that the canapés would all be haunted and ghoulish and so far they hadn't disappointed.

“Oh hell yeah, Lost Boys!” You grin, seeing the costume that Max has expertly pieced together. Max Phillips might be a frat boy and occasional asshat, but he has an attention for detail that has to be admired. And frankly? He’s ridiculously hot. A fact only enhanced by leather and eyeliner, in your opinion. Sure he’s a little obnoxious, so you just keep the fact that you have a little – okay, big – thing for him on the quiet side. Especially since your roommate despises him. “Evan,” you look at your roommate now, decked out in his Van Helsing costume like he’s in some kind of righteous crusade. “I am begging you to just let tonight be about fun and not this hyper focus.”

Evan rolls his eyes and gives you a disappointed look. "You're going to believe me." He promises you. "By the end of tonight, you will know the truth - Max Phillips is a vampire."

"I sure am." Max agrees easily, appearing at your side and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "David from Lost Boys." He clarifies. "Glad you can make it Camp Crystal Lake Counselor." He doesn't waste the opportunity to look at your legs, you've got them on display after all and you aren't on company property.

"Max." Evan greets him through clenched teeth, furious that he's touching you.

“Evan made me a name tag,” you tell Max with a grin, pointing to the sticky Hi! My Name Is badge on your shirt that features your office nickname - Cat - and a little cartoon drawing of black cat beside it. “Nice party, Max.” You may keep your attraction under wraps, but that doesn’t mean you can’t just be a generally nice person.

“Thanks Kitty Cat.” Max sends you a small wink and looks around. “We’ve got a couple of our clients and potential clients here so I could get away with splurging. Plus, I love Halloween.” He smirks over at Evan. “All the things that go bump in the night come out.”

“Does that mean there’s good booze?” You ask, one eyebrow ticking up at Max curiously. Splurging on clients might mean there’s actually something tasty. “I heard a rumor about sangria or punch or something, but that might have been Elaine’s wishful thinking.”

“Ohhhh the Bloody Sangria is my own recipe.” He tells you with a grin. “There’s also Witches Brew, Poisoned Apples and Demon Juice.” He points to the bar where premixed cocktails are being poured up into glasses where the base is a skeleton’s hand.

“Sangria for sure.” That stupid exaggerated grin on Max’s face shouldn’t be charming, but he’s got vampire fang caps on his teeth and alright, maybe you had a little thing for Kiefer Sutherland as a teenager that the Lost Boys costume is playing into. To Evan you throw a pout, silently asking him to play nice before heading to the bar with Max.

“Make sure you get some appetizers too.” Max hums knowingly. “Those drinks sneak up on you and we don’t want you buzzed too quickly.” He catches the eye of a prospective client and pats your shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later, enjoy yourself Kitty Cat.”

“Come on, Ev.” You reach for his hand but resist when he tries tangling your fingers together, tired of repeating that you are not interested in him romantically. He’s a good roommate and a decent friend, but as a boyfriend? Not your type at all. “Drink with me, eat with me. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m not touching anything Max could have corrupted.” Evan huffs, annoyed that you are so flirty with him. You need to just trust him.

“He’s not going to poison our clients.” Rolling your eyes at him is still playful, because you’ve definitely always thought of Evan as more of a brother than anything else, and you nod toward the bar. “I bet they have beer in bottles that Max can’t have tainted with his spooky vampire vibes.”

Evan blows out a sigh and dutifully follows you like a lost puppy, wondering how he can possibly convince you about Max. “Hey man.” Tim smirks and lifts the glass of alcohol up. “You came.”

“I had to drag him out of the apartment,” you tease, giving Tim a hug before slipping past him to the bar for a glass of sangria.

“Would you like an extra shot of Vampire’s blood in your sangria?” The bartender asks with a smile. “It’s a floater of blackberry moonshine.”

“Why the hell not. Go big or go home, right?” You laugh, cringing at the cliched phrase before you shrug your shoulders. “And a Bud Light.” The least you can do is grab Evan’s first beer for him, since you did drag him out tonight. Being convinced that some socialization that didn’t happen under neon lights with phone headsets attached to your heads would be good for him might not have been correct.

Evan looks around the room in jealousy, begrudgingly impressed with the party. Hating how this man took his job and was actually doing a bang-up job. He takes the beer from you and eyes it for a moment before he hears Max’s laugh across the room. “Fuck it.” He groans and puts the bottle to his lips.

“Atta boy,” Tim laughs before strolling away when he spies someone he wants to say hi to across the large room.

“Eat, drink, and be merry,” you agree with a grin. You just want tonight to be fun. Maybe get Evan talking to the new girl from Legal that he said was cute a couple of days ago. Anything to get his mind away from the vampire thing.

Max keeps an eye on you as he makes his way around the room. Partly because it drives Evan insane. He might have made a couple of veiled threats to change you next. But mostly it was because he was very intrigued by the way your tits look up under that t-shirt. He had plenty of fantasies about his counselors when he was younger and his grandma made him go to the sleep away vacation Bible camps in the summer.

******

The deejay they hired for tonight is doing an excellent job of keeping the energy up, and you walk past the table just in time to hear Deliah from HR begging him to play Thriller again, making you laugh as you hit the bar. This sangria is addictive and you lean back against the sturdy wood to look around the room while the bartender pours you glass number three. Evan has finally started talking to the girl from Legal and from where you are it looks like she might even be interested in him so you send up a little positive energy in his direction and sigh. Maybe now you can actually relax and find someone to dance with - a thought which feels slightly bitchy considering you know Evan would dance with you if you asked. But you’d like to dance with someone you’re attracted to, which seriously narrows the field around here.

Max chuckles to himself when he sees you going back for another drink. He slides up behind you, leaning over your shoulder to murmur in your ear. “Enjoying yourself, Kitty Cat?”

“Max!” You didn’t see him approach and definitely would have done a spit take if you had had a sip of drink in your mouth when he spoke. “Uh— yeah, actually. Your sangria’s really good.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it.” He purrs with a delighted smile. “I like the body of it.” He waggles his brows. “And the way that it sneaks up on you.”

“The body of the bloody sangria?” It’s dumb, and you probably wouldn’t laugh at it if you weren’t two drinks in and finding the 80s vamp look on him a little extra hot. “Har har.”

Max winks at you. “Planning on being the first victim of the night?” He asks, leaning in. “Or are you going to be the counselor that survives?”

“Oh, come on.” Leaning back against the bar, you toss him the same smirk you would give anybody in this situation. “Nobody wants to die first. I’m totally Final Girl material. Nancy Thompson, Laurie Strode, and me.”

“You sure?” He leans in and flicks your name badge. “Kitty Cat survives?” He hums, smirking at you.

“For sure.” The authoritative nod you give him when the bartender sets your drink down beside your elbow comes with a grin. “I’m not afraid of some big bad monster.”

“Really?” He flashes his fangs at you playfully. Everyone thinks they are fake but why would he do fake fangs when he has the real thing. “Not even a skipping beat of your heart?”

“Not even.” It’s a dirty lie because you’re a damn scaredy cat, but at the same time you do love the adrenaline rush of a scary movie. The fake fangs are more of a turn on than anything else, which is probably the real reason your blood is currently pumping.

“I think you’re lying.” He coos, leaning in closer and brushing his nose against your pulse. The smell of your blood is intoxicating, and he groans quietly.

“Rude.” You laugh, picking up your drink and nudging him with your elbow. Maybe it’s a little more flirtatious than you would ever be regularly, but this is outside of work hours, outside of the office, and it’s a party.

“Just honest, Kitty cat.” He chuckles, watching you take another sip of your drink.

“I don’t know why I let you call me that.” Yes you do. You absolutely know why. It’s because he’s hot as fuck. It had taken almost a year to accept being called Cat at work and then Max just rolled in and added kitty to it and you just let it slide. “Maybe I instinctively knew you’d have a killer sangria recipe that I’d want to steal.”

“Better than what I was going to call you when I first met you.” He confides with a cocky grin.

“Oh god.” You choke on a laugh before taking a sip of your drink. “Do I want to know?”

He snickers to himself and shuffles closer. Leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Pussy…Cat.” He purrs, making sure to emphasize the first word.

That…is not what you expected, and you definitely feel a very visceral reaction to Max’s breath on your neck. You can practically feel your panties drench at the implication that he might be interested in you, too. But that’s…that’s a stretch, right? It has to be. Max flirts with all the women in the office.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” He hums, wondering if he’s misread the subtle signals you’ve sent him.

“A little.” You have to admit that, as silly as it makes you feel when you tilt your head to look at him. “Surprised, I guess?”

“Why would you be surprised?” He lifts his brows, shocked that you didn’t know that you are a gorgeous woman. “Every man in this room would take you home if they could.”

“Maybe.” Shrugging, you take another sip of your drink before turning to face him fully. Whether it’s the booze or the atmosphere or the light-switch flick of a mood change, you’re feeling bold. “But I’m not interested in them.”

“And who are you interested in?” He asks, intrigued by who would be your taste. Surely not Evan, he’s heard him moan about you turning him down to Tim too often in the break room.

“Seriously?” It’s probably a good thing that he has to ask, it means you haven’t been too obvious at work. Although you kind of thought you were being pretty obvious right now. “I mean, don’t fire me over it, but…you…”

“Hmmmmm.” Max flashes you a wicked, fanged-filled grin. “That’s not something I would ever fire you over Pussy Cat.”

“That nickname is gonna stick now, isn’t it?” You can feel the heat in your cheeks, nerves and embarrassment rising right along with arousal. He’s looking at you half like you’re a fucking meal and half like something else that you can’t quite pinpoint but you’re fairly certain you’re going to enjoy.

“Yes it is.” He chuckles again. “But only when we’re alone.”

“We’re never alone.” More than anything it’s just pointing out a fact. Aside from the rare occasion that he has called you into his office, The two of you have never actually been alone. Maybe once you were the only two people in the break room at the same time, but that was in passing and the door was open. It wasn’t exactly private.

“Then maybe we should be alone.” Max offers with a smirk. He can smell your interest, but he wants this to be completely your choice.

“Seriously?” You ask again, still a little incredulous that he could be interested. “I mean…I didn’t think…” But he’s looking at you like that and you swallow the lump in your throat so hard that it bottoms out all the way down in your pussy. “I mean, yeah. That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah?” He bites his lip with his fangs exposed. “You want to be alone?” He waits for you to nod and he smirks. “How about now?”

“Eager.” But it makes you flush with your own fervent desire, wondering if he means just finding a dark corner of the party, leaving together, or if his mind has jumped straight to hooking up. It occurs to you, as you smirk and pick up your drink to down it quickly (no sense in wasting, obviously) that you don’t care. “Fuck it. Yeah. What do you have in mind?” Evan is going to be so fucking pissed but you just can’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

He chuckles, surprised that you’ve said yes, but also very happy that you have. “I think the innocent camp counselor should go into the bathroom to be ravished by the dangerous vampire.” He hums as he lifts a brow.

Straight to hooking up, you acknowledge with a smirk. It doesn’t really surprise you. Max isn’t exactly known as a relationship guy around the office. Either way, you don’t mind making him a notch on your proverbial bedpost tonight. “You go for the innocent thing, huh?” It makes your smirk deepen just that much more. “Noted,” you murmur in his ear before taking the strut all the way out of your step and hightailing it out of the hotel ballroom toward the unisex bathroom down the hall.

Max watches you walk away for a long moment, admiring the view. “Turned you down, huh?” Evan’s pithy little comment makes his smirk reappear as he turns towards the other man.

“Guess so.” He chirps, unwilling to let Evan cause a scene and prevent his little rendezvous with you. Some sacrifices must be made and right now, wiping the smug, satisfied look off Evan’s face is on the chopping block.

“She’ll never date you. Or fuck you.” He tells Max, his eyes darting around but the little fucker is brave around a crowd in the ballroom - confident Max won’t cause a scene. “So you should just leave her alone.”

“Same could be said for you, slugger.” Max pops back with a wink. “After all, if I lived in the same apartment with that little Kitty Cat, I’m sure I would have wooed her by now.” He chuckles and gives Evan a sympathetic look. “Guess you just aren’t what she’s looking for…” Max lets Evan stew for a moment and right when the other man opens his mouth, he interrupts him. “Whelp! I better go take a piss, all the Bloody cocktails have gotten to me.” He smirks. “Try the special sangria I have behind the bar.” He confides. “They have it just for me, but tell them Max said it was okay.” He turns around and whistles as he walks towards the bathrooms, knowing Evan is fuming.

It takes just long enough before you hear footsteps outside the bathroom door for you to start doubting yourself. Wondering if you just made a completely dumbass mistake that’s going to make life hell at work from now on, or if Max really did use the specific word ravishing or a million other little paranoid concerns. You’re in the process of telling yourself to get a goddamn grip when the bathroom door clicks open.

Max raises a brow at you, seeing the doubt and second guessing on your face. “Change your mind, Pussy Cat?” He asks as he steps inside and closes the door. If you don’t want to do this, it wouldn’t be nice to have the rumor mill spin if someone looked in and saw the two of you. “I got caught up by Evan trying to warn me away from you.”

“Thought you might have changed yours,” you admit, but the news that it was Evan who caused the delay makes you relax again instantly. “Ev’s just…protective.”

He snorts and sends you a knowing look. “Evan wants to be in your bed.” He counters. “He’s like the annoying little puppy that chews on your shoelaces and tries - and fails - to hump your leg.”

“To be fair, he’s never actually tried to hump my leg.” The comparison makes you laugh though, and you shake your head. “He knows I’m not interested in him.”

“He knows…but he doesn’t know.” Max smirks as he flips the lock and takes a step towards you. “He might get the hint tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” It’s not like you had been planning on broadcasting this little interlude around the office, so the idea of news of it getting back to Evan hadn’t even been on your mind.

“Only if you wanted.” He chuckles, reaching out and stroking your arm, his eyes on yours. “He’ll know when you scream my name.”

The corners of your lips tick up in a smirk as you step into him, feeling your heart speed up and your pussy clench at that kind of promise. “I guess you better make sure I scream loud enough, then.”

Max’s eyes flash and his smirk grows wider. “Only thing I like more than making a sale is a challenge, Pussy Cat.” He growls, stalking towards you like a predator cornering his prey.

It would probably come across as way too dramatic if you weren’t honestly so goddamn turned on, but as it is? You’re in exactly the right frame of mind to find that broad frame and cocky ass smirk enticing as hell. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“Permission.” Quicker than he probably should have, but not enough to be too obvious, Max pins you against the row of industrial yet aesthetically pleasing sinks and hand soap units. Your back is to the mirror, and he leers with his nose pressed right against yours.

Your sharp gasp and wide eyes definitely lend themselves toward that whole innocent thing he supposedly likes, and the way he has your back bowed so that your tits are pushed against his chest is only adding to the heaving effect. "Max..."

"Yessssss, Pussy Cat?" He doesn't kiss you, not yet. He likes the teasing and the way that your breath catches in your throat. It makes the veins flood with blood and it smells so sweet as your body heats up even more than normal.

"Shit..." The realization makes you roll your eyes even as you're nearly panting in anticipation. "Of course you're a tease."

He tsks in disappointment at your seemingly bemoaning of his traits. "You don't think it enhances...." his 'fake' fangs graze your throat slowly before he retracts them and places the most delicate kiss on your galloping pulse, "anticipation?"

The way you almost whimper is a complete giveaway that it definitely is an enhancement, and you shiver a little. Being caged between his arms against the counter makes you feel caught in a delicious sort of way. "M-maybe."

"Hmmmmm." Max is already hard, pressing against your hip through your camp counselor shorts and one hand moves from the cold counter to grab your side. "Don't worry, Pussy Cat." He follows up the small kiss with a slow drag of his tongue up the line of your neck. "I won't bite hard...unless you want me to."

Evan’s ridiculous vampire claim rings in your ears again, completely unwanted, and you smirk as you tip your head to one side to give him all the access to your neck as he could possibly want. “It’s been a while since I’ve been properly manhandled,” you murmur, tugging on his earlobe with your teeth as his head hangs right beside yours. “Sounds like fun.”

Max hisses, cock jumping when your teeth nip his skin. "Fuck." He huffs, trying to decide if he wants a quickie, or if he just wants to destroy you. Your giggle makes up his mind for him, pulling away and dropping down to his knees to unbutton those ridiculously tiny shorts you are wearing. The prospect of devouring your cunt while you have knee highs and sneakers on is appealing.

"Shit." Max Phillips on his knees is not a sight you ever thought you'd see - both because you didn't ever think you'd actually be in this position with him and a little bit because you thought he might be one of those guys who was prissy about the smell or taste of pussy as an excuse to never give oral - but it's fucking glorious. It takes all of thirty seconds for your cutoffs to be tossed across the damn room, and Max's eyes are eye level with the soaked through crotch of your white cotton panties.

"Virginal." He hums, smirking up at you before he reaches out and rubs the damp fabric. "Even though I know you aren't, it makes you look even more like a teenage counselor that might survive the night."

Looking down at him with the most innocent expression you can muster, you can see just how wide his pupils have grown since getting the first bit of your clothing off. "Of course I'm innocent. I don't know why you would possibly think otherwise." You intone, wondering if he's into roleplay enough to want the whole act.

He chuckles, hooking a finger in the band of your panties so he can start dragging them down. "Because good virginal girls don’t let sinful vampires eat their pussy in the bathroom." He teases, leaning in and blowing on your heated pussy lips and giving you a fang-filled smile.

This time your whimper is accompanied by the eager way you open up for him, totally willing to spread your legs for him before he's even kissed you. It's not like you're expecting a lasting and deep connection out of fucking your boss in the bathroom at the company party. You're horny, not delusional.

Your ass is perched against the counter so Max wastes no time in shoving his shoulders under your legs, bringing your thighs to his shoulders and he winks at you, right before his mouth envelopes your cunt in a large bite, his fangs retracting again so he doesn't puncture your lips.

They definitely heard you moaning in the hallway, but you couldn't care less as you brace yourself with one hand on the counter and sink the fingers of your other hand into his thick, artfully messy hair. The heat of his mouth and determination of his tongue as he licks a long, flat stripe up the length of your sex is enough to have you tossing your head back and shutting your eyes in pleasure. Or it would be, if you didn't want to watch his every movement so desperately.

There is an art to pussy eating. He had tried to tell Evan that when the prick was in college with him, but he had been too busy thinking Max was an asshole. It might have been one of the reasons his roommate's girlfriend had jumped into his bed when Evan was away for a long weekend. She had obviously listened to the tips he had tried to impart. Enough to be curious, at least. His tongue twists around your clit and he flicks it playfully before his tongue slides down again, curious to taste you right from the honeyed little well between your thighs. Your fingers curl tightly, nails digging into his scalp instinctively before soothing the bite away. Apparently you never noticed Max having an overly long tongue, but he is curled into the absolute depths of you in a way that has you rolling your hips forward and pushing down as if he isn't already completely buried in your cunt.

Max groans into your folds, loving how you don't mind being a little more forceful. His cock twitches and he holds your legs wide so he can curl his tongue deeper, licking into you with fevered eagerness. He knows what the fuck he's doing, you'll give him that. Any idea that you had about him being selfish in bed is being completely washed away by the deep growling sounds floating up to you from his throat and the way those vibrations roll through your body to have you whining and writhing and almost ready to burst in no time.

His eyes fixate on you. Responding to the micro expressions as he works your cunt with his tongue. If you’re going to fuck him; you’re damn well going to have nothing but good things to say about him. His fingers dig into the tender flesh of your thighs and he huffs, not needing to breathe, but you would expect him to make some noise.

“Holy shit, Max—” Every time you get a gulp of air he pushes it out again, cutting off your moan of his name and twisting it into a harsh gasp with a dexterous flick of his tongue that swirls around your clit like a lollipop. “S—so— good! Fuck.”

He chuckles into you, waiting until you look down at him again before he sends you a small wink and sucks your clit into his mouth, ripping your orgasm out of you.

You’ve never outright just screamed while cumming before, but this one comes tearing out of you like an igniting fire that leaves you shaking and cursing and grasping at any bit of him you can get your hands on so that you don’t just collapse backward into one of the sinks behind you. “Oh my fucking god, Max.” You’re practically dizzy from the force of it, which just makes you giggle in filthy glee when you can breathe again.

He is smug as he kisses your clit one last time before he leans back and looks up at you. “Did I pass muster, counselor?” He teases.

“With the first test.” You nod eagerly, getting air back in your lungs as you reach to drag him up for a kiss. You haven’t gotten to yet and now that he’s had his mouth on you, you’re dying to indulge.

Max goes willingly, fusing his mouth to yours and sliding his hands up under your shirt. Wanting to get his hands on your tits for a long time, he moans as he cups them over your bra and slides his tongue into your mouth at the same time.

Moaning into the kiss is a natural instinct. His large hands envelope your overheated skin easily, somehow easing the heat of arousal at the same time he intensifies it. It’s you who tears your shirt away, ready to just throw every stitch aside and thoroughly fucking enjoy yourself.

He pulls away from you to admire the view as he unhooks your bra and tosses it away. "Fucking in your shoes, I'm digging it." He teases, pinching your nipples and ducking down to pull one into his mouth.

“Feels—” His talented mouth cuts you off and you almost squeal, letting it dissolve into a sinful moan. “Dirtier.” You finish your thought with one hand cradling his head to your tits encouragingly and the other fisting his shirt blindly to follow the trail of his torso down to the pronounced bulge in his pants.

"You are dirty." He groans, pulling off your tit with a pop and then biting it playfully before he nips the other. "Gonna fuck you like the dirty fucking girl you are right here."

“It’s a good thing you got my pussy nice and wet, then.” With one hand wrapped around the thick length protruding from his pants, your other starts working open his belt. “It’ll be nice and easy to slide that big cock in right away.”

He smirks and stands straight while you pull open his pants and groans when his cock is your hot hands. "Fuck." He hisses, twitching when your thumb presses against the tip. "I'm gonna be balls deep and die happy." He jokes.

"You mean you're not a real undead bad boy?" Putting on a pout of faux disappointment keeps you from laughing, knowing that he knows all about Evan's Max is a vampire crusade. The very last thing you're about to do when you have his thick length throbbing in your hand is laugh. "Darn."

He doesn't even answer you, just thrusts into your grip. "Line me up, Pussy Cat." He hums. "I'm gonna make you cum like this then I'm going to turn you over so I can watch your ass bounce."

"Promises, promises," you tease, not that you have any doubt he can do it. He's not even out of breath while you're a panting and whimpering mess. You don't hesitate to do as he tells you, though, leaning back a little to let your legs fall open wide so that you can position the blunt head of his cock at the entrance of your dripping pussy.

"Fuck, look at that pretty little pussy cat." He smirks and watches you while he breeches your entrance and starts filling you steadily, inch by inch.

He feels thicker splitting you open than he did in your hand, and your head drops back when you let out a deep groan of pleasure. Max doesn’t stop until he’s fully bottomed out inside you and you don’t want him to - making lascivious noises of approval with every inch until his hips are flush against yours and then you’re diving back in for more kisses. Wrapping your arms around his neck keeps him close but you grind your hips down against his and whimper happily. “Fuck me, baby. Come on. Need you.”

Max snarls slightly, his grip turning bruising for a split second before he relaxes and grins at you. "I can do that, sweetheart." He growls. "Guaranteed." Pulling his hips back, he snaps them forward harshly.

“Yes!” The force of the thrust pushes you back on the counter and you keep your arms around Max, sinking your teeth playfully into his neck for a moment because he seemed to have liked you using your teeth earlier. “Just like that.”

"Fuck." His dick twitches deep inside you and his own fangs spring out of his gums. He doesn't bite you though. Not wanting to change you right now, so he just keeps his head over your shoulder so you don't see his slightly feral expression. His hips rock faster after you bite him, ready to give you what you want.

It’s fierce and needy after that. Rough in all the right ways, like you hadn’t been the only one secretly pining in the office ever since Max joined the company earlier in the year. Or, if not pining, you definitely weren’t the only one with filthy thoughts about the other. Every once in a while his grip tightens to near bruising and you moan every time, loving the harshness of a little pain with your pleasure. You’ve always been that way and know for a fact that Evan is gentler than a basket of fluffy kittens, which is one of the reasons you just never had any interest in your roommate. But this? This is your kind of fucking - dirty and delicious.

Groans pour out of his mouth, not because he's winded or anything human, but because you are fucking perfect. Taking his pace, his eagerness and wanting more. He can feel the way that you get even wetter when he forgets not to crush you for a second. Loses control slightly. It's intoxicating and your blood – fuck, it's like ambrosia right under the skin.

There’s no chance that people haven’t figured out what’s going on in here - from the locked door to your combined sounds to the harsh slap of skin on damp skin. Max’s cock is battering your pussy in the very best way and you hope like hell that you’ll be as sore as you think you will tomorrow. The idea of carrying that with you for a few days sounds perfect, especially if this is only going to be a one-time thing. Just a perfect little capsule of a memory of that one time you got railed in a hotel bathroom. Even that thought makes you gasp out in pleasure, legs tightening around his waist as you can feel the familiar twist of orgasm in your belly building up again.

“You gonna cum?” Max asks, smirking at you as he keeps drilling into you over and over again. He knows you are close, that fluttering little pussy of yours is about to explode and soak him. “Yeah, you are.” He huffs smugly. “Do it, Pussy Cat.”

You barely have it in you to be sassy in the moment, just rambling whatever pops into your head, and your fingers are digging into his leather covered shoulders with a tight pressure that doesn’t seem to phase him in the least. You turn your head to drag your teeth along the juncture of his long neck to egg him on. “So good,” you whine breathlessly, sucking hot marks into his skin with enthusiasm. “So fucking good, Max — fuck I’m gonna cum so hard.”

Max feels his face start to change, growling harshly and planting his face in your neck while he ramps up his pace to just beyond what is humanly possible. Wanting to feel it and hear you scream. “Do it.”

It takes mere seconds more, and you’re clinging to him when you feel the rush of overheated blood become an equally overheated flood from your cunt that drenches his cock with an unbelievable amount of cum. It’s so intense that your whole body locks up, turning your scream of his name into a strangled wail as you fall apart.

Hissing, Max doesn’t fuck you through it, instead he’s pulling out of you and manhandling you like a rag doll. Flipping you over and letting you fall forward while he pulls your cheeks apart and sinks back into your cunt with a victorious hum when your walls are still pulsing.

“Goddamn—fuuuck Max!” The strangled sob is punctuated by his name when he spears his cock back into you completely, burying his length to the hilt and extending the end of your orgasm so that your body shakes again in ecstasy as you try to grasp at anything on the counter so you don’t end up face down in a sink. You had no idea he was this strong - making you feel like a rag doll in his arm as he finds his rhythm again.

Now he’s grinning, watching his cock spear into you and make your ass bounce. His hands grip your hips as he rails into you. “Do it again.” He growls, wanting to feel you cum again. It’s a point of pride and he’s loving how you take it.

You’re about to gasp out a joke about how you’re gonna need a little more time before you can cum again when you lift your head to find his eyes in the mirror — and can’t find his face at all. The reflection of his clothing is clear as day: duster and shirt and torn open pants Moving behind you in rhythm with the merciless way he’s fucking you and fingerless gloves gripping tight to your hips as you find your own reflection unblemished in the large bathroom mirror. But Max? Max is as transparent as a summer breeze, only affecting the things he touches as you see his grip tighten on your flesh by the way the indents there deepen. You can feel it, and you can see the result, but you can’t see him.

“Holy shit…” With your eyes blown wide and the vision of your number one top fantasy right in front of you, another orgasm tears through you almost instantly. That years old pornographic dream of getting fucked by a vampire after getting through watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer is now so real that it’s turning your blood into wildfire and you can’t believe the way you moan as you shake and drench his cock all over again.

It’s your reaction that makes him slip up, the instant orgasm when you realize you don’t see his reflection. His fangs were grazing over your throat and when you clench down around him, he cuts you. Groaning when the coppery tang of your blood hits his tongue. Making him growl and start sucking sloppily while he fucks into you like the supernatural monster that he is.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” At this point you feel like your body might just tense up and be in a constant state of cumming for the rest of the time he’s fucking you. The sight of the light trickle of blood welling up on your neck only to be licked away by an invisible tongue seconds later makes you gasp and keen, and the instant realization that your vampire fantasy is now a vampire fetish just makes the whole thing better. For now the only downside is that he’s fucking you so hard that you can’t catch your breath to babble at him about how amazing it feels.

There’s a beauty to not being seen, not having his reflection in the mirror. You can’t see that his face has completely morphed. Turned into the more gruesome visage of his being. Brow heavy and eyes yellow tinged with red, Max snarls when he feels his body lock up, driving impossibly deep into your hot cunt and making a nearly demonic noise as he fills you with ropes of his impotent seed.

“Max!” Only his name falls from your tongue as he buries himself as deeply as possible in your body and follows you down the rabbit hole of pleasure. You feel boneless and wrecked and absolutely ecstatic in ways you can’t quite describe as you pant for air, crushed underneath his weight on the cold marble countertop.

He doesn’t need to recover or catch his breath. He could pull out of you right now and be perfectly fine, save for his face still being a twisted visage of the image he normally presented. Still he leans over you, savoring the feeling of your cunt fluttering and your thighs shaking. “Pussy Cat has a secret.” He teases playfully, his tongue lapping up one last drop of your blood before he bites his lip and lets a drop of his blood heal your wound as if it never happened.

“A fucking convenient one.” Still mostly breathless, you twist under him to be able to see his face. The ridges and bumps of his transformation draw your eyes across them as you take it all in, fascinated rather than terrified with his cock still buried inside you. Your eyelids flutter a little, that flash of pure attraction undeniable in your veins. The same ones he just drank from. “You’re actually a vampire?”

“Shocker.” Max makes his face smooth back out, his now brown eyes wide and his lips twisted into a grin. “Evan is actually right about something.” He chuckles and opens his mouth so his fangs descend again to show you.

“Fuck.” It’s all excitement and wonderment on your part and you can’t deny it at all. “That’s…so fucking sexy,” you admit with a self-conscious giggle.

“Knew I liked you.” He teases, slapping your ass playfully as he leans back to let you straighten up. “Least you don’t have to worry about an accident with me.”

“Thank god.” When you stand up again it’s like a miniature flood from your pussy and you laugh again. “Because you cum like a fucking Super Soaker.” It’s nothing a couple of paper towels can’t clean up, but it’s fun to tease.

“Is there any other way?” Max asks as he uses another sink to clean up and hands you the shorts you had worn. Your panties slide into his pocket with a mischievous wink to you.

“Pathetic dribbles, usually.” You’ve never been dishonest with yourself about why you’re single, knowing that you like a rougher and more physically demanding sex life and that balancing that with a man who isn’t also an absolute jackass or abusive in some way isn’t easy. It’s why you embraced the ‘Cat’ jokes. Better a cat lady than miserable or bored, at least in your book. “Don’t worry,” you murmur, offering him a smile as you slip on your shorts. “I won’t tell.”

It’s surprisingly nice to hear you say that. No fear or worry in your voice, just confidence that he can trust you to keep a secret. The only other people in the office who knew are the ones he’s already changed. And Evan’s stupid ass, but no one believes him. “Let me feed you more than lame ass Halloween cocktails and canapés tomorrow.” He says suddenly. “Before I fuck you to death again.”

“I—what?” Having reached down to pick your t-shirt and bra up off the floor, you straighten up and look at him quizzically. Not because you’re not interested, obviously, but just because you’re surprised. “Are you asking me out?”

“I mean— I guess—uh, yeah.” He frowns slightly as if he’s just worked out that is what he’s actually doing. “Unless you have a strict ‘fuck but not date your boss’ policy?” He jokes, trying to cover up the slight nervous fear that you might turn him down. That you just wanted a quick bang in the bathroom.

“Not at all.” It’s almost a pity to get dressed, but he’s already cleaned up and tucked himself away, so you clip your bra on again easily. “Actually I’ve never fucked or dated my boss before at all, so this is new territory for me.” You pull your t-shirt over your head and adjust, smoothing out the wrinkles. “Seven o’clock tomorrow? You know where I live.”

“Yeah.” Max nods, checking his clothes in the mirror and then looking back at you. “Got some blood on your shirt, Pussy Cat.”

“Call it a souvenir.” A memento, you think with a grin. Throwing him a wink, you lean in to kiss him one more time before moving back toward the door. “See you out there?” It’s an effort to not come across as clingy, that you are so overly nonchalant. Because in reality you want to prance out there on his arm and proudly dare anyone to give you shit about disappearing to fuck.

Evan pounces on you as soon as you appear out of the hallway leading to the bathrooms. “Tell me you didn’t.” He practically hisses.

“Didn’t what?” You ask, feigning innocence. Of course he was going to get nasty about this. It’s not like it’s a secret that he hates Max.

“Come on, we need to go.” Evan is nearly panicking, seeing the spot of blood on your shirt. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh my god you’re so overprotective.” Overprotective and with an annoyingly tight grip as he steers you toward the other end of the ballroom with determination. You barely have a chance to glance back, catching a glimpse of Max right before even drags you out the door. You might have even liked the little bit of manhandling if you hadn’t just been fucked within an inch of your life by a vampire.

Max chuckles to himself as he sees you pull a harsh frown at your roommate. Tomorrow is going to be fun. He hopes like hell you don’t tell Evan about your date.

******

You oversleep like hell the next day, worn out but feeling energized all the same. The ache in your thighs is so gorgeously satisfying and you sit in the living room in your pjs with a book until it’s time to shower and get ready for your date. Evan has been out doing god knows what all day with Tim so you haven’t had to avoid more arguing like the night before. It got bad enough that you have nearly threatened to move out if he tried to keep telling you what to do. By the time Evan comes home, you’re showered and dressed and finishing your makeup, just watching the clock tick down in anticipation.

“Where are you going?” The mournful eyes he gives you can’t hide being bitterly upset. He doesn’t know why you don’t believe him. He’s only got your best interests at heart, maybe a little selfish on his part, but that was to be expected.

“Out.” This time you don’t mean to be evasive, you just really don’t know where Max is taking you. “Dinner, I think. Did you have a good day?” Despite being pissed at him for presuming to tell you how to live your life, he’s still your friend.

“No.” Evan shakes his head. “I don’t want you to be mad at me, but Max is dangerous.” He stresses, imploring you to understand.

“Ev, I really don’t want to fight with you, but you need to drop it.” Pinching your eyes shut doesn’t banish the tinge of a headache that you can feel forming from the topic, and you turn to check your reflection in the mirror one more time - eventually biting back a grin when you remember looking up to see no reflection at all behind you last night. “I know you don’t like him,” you tell Evan. “But you are also very biased against him by your own admission.”

He sighs sulkily. “Want me to go with you?” He offers, wanting to find out where you are going. You’re mad at him and it’s not something he likes, but he hates you being so blasé about Max. “Maybe we could go to that bar around the corner.”

The lobby buzzer sounds from the wall panel in your kitchen at the same moment you turn and frown at your roommate. “Do I want you to come on my date with me? Come on, Evan. No. That’s both weird and honestly a little rude. Especially when I haven’t even told you who it’s with.” He’ll find out in a second, but you go over and hit the buzzer to let him into the lobby so he can come upstairs. Evan’s going to have to get over it eventually.

“You’re going on a date?” If possible, he looks even more remorseful, but he shakes his head. “I didn’t— it’s not Max, is it?”

“What if it was?” You pick up your jacket from the hook by the door and double check your pockets for your wallet, phone, and keys. “I couldn’t tell you, could I?” It just makes you shake your head, honestly a little heart sore over the whole thing. “I can’t be excited that the guy I’ve liked for ages finally asked me out because my roommate is on a righteous crusade against him.”

“It’s not a crusade!” Evan insists, reaching out for your hand. “I d-don’t want to see anything happen to you.” He doesn’t want you dating anyone but he really doesn’t want you dating Max. The idea that you have a crush on him hurts, considering you know what he did to him.

“Ev…” You sigh, turning to face him even as you hear footsteps approaching your door. “I swear, if he hurts me or doesn’t treat me right, or does anything that I don’t like, I will dump his ass faster than lightning.” Even so, the rhythmic knock on the door makes you grin, eager to see Max again after just a day.

It’s important that you qualify that you don’t like talking about Max hurting you or being disrespectful, because there are definitely kinds of ‘hurt’ that you enjoy more than most. “And I’m not asking you to suddenly be best friends with him or even spend time around him outside of work. I’m just…I really like him. And I want to see where this goes.”

Was what happened between them in college shitty? Of course. But that lies as much on Evan’s shitty girlfriend’s shoulders as anyone else in your opinion, and you squeeze his hand before going to open the door for Max.

“Hey Pussy Cat!” Max grins, wearing jeans and a leather motorcycle jacket. He peels off his sunglasses as he looks you up and down with a very pleased expression and then offers the flowers he had brought. Flowers for dates were a must. Especially after the way he fucked you. “You look good enough to eat!”

“Don’t be mean,” you chide him, knowing his hearing is good enough that he definitely just heard you defend him to Evan. The flowers he has brought are stunning - deep reds and purples dotted with blues. “Do you want to come in while I put these in water? They’re beautiful.”

“Are you inviting me in?” He waggles his brows playfully and Evan nearly turns purple.

“SEE? He has to be invited in! Only vampires do that!” Evan’s voice nearly reaches the soprano range, it’s gone up so many octaves.

Max chuckles and steps into the entryway of your apartment. “Actually pal…that’s the same for demons, goblins and warlocks. Witches get a free pass for some reason.”

“Witches are still human.” Is the explanation you offer, figuring that playing along with the game is the way to be the least conspicuous. “Do you two need to be separated while I put these in my room or can you be in the same room without killing each other?” It’s kind of an honest question, all things considered, but you raise an eyebrow at Max asking him to behave as you grab your vase from the kitchen counter.

“I’m always a team player.” Max reminds you innocently, even fluttering his lashes at you. He’s not physically hurt Evan since punching him in the nose after he had been a little shit and lied to get him expelled and academically shunned from every fucking college but the one where he was turned into a vampire. “Ev and I will be fine, won’t we?” He throws his arm around Evan’s shoulder and squeezes him close as he grins at him, enjoying the other man’s discomfort.

“Be nice, please.” Is your one request, made to both of them, before you disappear to deposit the beautiful buds in the vase that will sit on your bedside table.

“Get off of me.” Evan hisses, shrugging out from Max’s arm and turning on him. “If you hurt her…” He trails off to seem more threatening and Max shoots him a grin.

“Buddy… pal…” He coos. “Don’t worry. It’s gonna be fine. Just…” He winks at Evan. “Make sure you have some good headphones tonight.”

You can hear them as you disappear down the hall and allow yourself to grin, shaking your head at the way Max doesn’t even pretend to assure Evan you won’t get hurt. Because there is no way your friend could wrap his head around the fact that having Max’s fangs cut into your skin was half of what made you cum so hard last night. Pain and pleasure mixed – and the promise of more – make you shiver with anticipation as you quickly drop the vase of flowers beside your bed.

Maybe you’ll ask Max to go back to his place, though, just so you don’t rub it in. Because you are definitely going to make some noise tonight. Your throbbing pussy insists on it.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat​ @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom    

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x female reader #Bloodsucking Bastards #spooktober #monster fucking #vampire edition

[dannystattoo]

august

chapter 1 - "i can see us lost in the memory"

you didn't plan on spending your summer fixing up your family's old cabin, but you also didn't plan on reconnecting with your childhood crush for the summer. based on august by taylor swift

Pairing: Danny Wagner x fem reader

Warnings:  Some language, but that's about it

Spending the summer after your senior year of college helping maintain your grandparents’ cabin was not what you’d anticipated upon graduating. While you wouldn’t say you were ready to tackle job hunting just yet, you would have preferred to have at least been able to stay in the college town with all of your friends for a couple more months. You’d have loved to at least have a last hurrah before you all inevitably moved on to whatever was next. Life had a way of happening though. Your grandfather passed away in the winter and a lot had changed. Your grandma wasn’t able to live on her own, so she had moved in with your family for the time being. Your parents were also trying to figure out what to do with the cabin your grandparents had purchased decades ago. It was your grandpa’s pride and joy, and he would never let anyone sell it even if he’d barely been able to use it in the last few years. The rest of your family, grandma included, couldn’t care less about keeping the property in the family, Since you and your siblings all moved out of the house and didn’t have the opportunity to visit much anymore, they decided it was best to sell the house. However, it needed a lot of TLC before it could go on the market and you’d gotten roped into spending your summer taking care of the property. You cursed yourself for learning so many DIY skills in college when your friends had insisted on renting the shittiest house possible your sophomore year, as well as for being the golden child who couldn’t draw boundaries with your parents no matter how hard you tried. 

…and that was how you found yourself looking around this house, wondering how the hell you were going to have it ready to list by August, in three months. Your dad offered to come up and help when he could on weekends and you did have a list of contractors your grandparents had previously used who could help with the things you weren’t able to do, but you were mostly on your own. You tried to remind yourself that his would give you the opportunity to save up some money since you weren’t paying rent and your family would be paying you for your work on the house. This would also give you time to polish your resume and work on perfecting your design portfolio, hopefully allowing you to move somewhere better than the sleepy midwest town you grew up in or the slightly less sleepy city you went to college in. Your ultimate goal was New York City, but you were aiming for Chicago right now. All things considered, though, the thought of a summer spent more or less by yourself doing a stupid amount of manual labor made the thought of living in the city in cramped apartment with multiple roommates and eating ramen for every meal sound appealing. 

It had probably been about five years since you’d spent any sizable amount of time here, and that was around the same time your family started doing the bare minimum maintenance on the place. They’d also done the bare minimum when it came to cleaning, so you spent the entire morning making one of the bedrooms and one of the bathrooms clean and comfortable enough to get you through the first few days. Once you finished that, you started trying to make a game plan, but you became overwhelmed pretty quickly. Realizing it was nearing one in the afternoon, you decided to drive into town, pick up some fast food and take a break. You weren’t able to find much, but there was a Taco Bell within a reasonable driving distance. You returned home with your Nachos Bell Grande and a massive Baja Blast, hoping that would push you to have a productive evening. It was a beautiful day out, so you took you lunch out to the dock. The gate that led down to the water’s edge was a bit rusted and hard to open, but once you got it, you remembered why you loved coming here so much as a kid. Admittedly, once you looked past the state of the house and the yard, it was gorgeous out here. You were steps away from the lake, which had a tiny private sandy beach at its edge. Trees and plants in full bloom surrounded the lake, and you always loved the glow of the sun off the water. You told yourself that if you got through a clearing the clutter in the rooms you, your siblings, and cousins had shared as kids that day, you’d reward yourself with a glass of wine and a night spent on the patio with your designs. The change in scenery was inspiring you in a way you hadn’t expected. Looking at the nearby houses, you tried to remember all the kids you’d met here over the years. They were all fleeting friendships, lasting for only one week in the summer over the 4th of July and picking up the next year, depending on who returned and when. You’d met these kids well before social media, and you had no idea what happened to any of them after losing contact. You start thinking about them, wondering where life had taken everyone after those golden summers. 

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice that someone had appeared from the cabin next-door and they were walking down towards the water. 

“I had no idea they sold this place,” the voice said as it came up behind you. Startled, you turned around to see a man approaching you. He looked like he was about your age, maybe slightly older. You could tell from his tan skin he probably spent a lot of time outside, giving the impression of someone else who might be spending the summer here. Based on appearances alone, that was something you could get on board with. You couldn’t overlook the fact he was gorgeous - you were immediately drawn to his intense eyes and radiant smile, and the fact his was absolutely ripped didn’t hurt matters.

“Because they didn’t,” you laughed. “Granted, it’s barely been used in at least five years, but yeah, haven’t sold yet.”

“Well that’s good, I always like the people who lived here.”

“You knew them?” you were taken by surprise. 

“Oh yeah, my family owns the place next door. I’m Danny, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you said. The longer you looked at him, you began to think he looked vaguely familiar. “This is gonna sound weird, but we’ve met before haven’t we?”

“You have two older sisters and your family was always here the week of the 4th of July, right?”

“Yeah. You have a younger sister and you were also always here for the 4th of July?” As Dnny confirmed this, it all came flooding back to you. 

He was part of the group of about a dozen of you who lived on this street that you’d just been thinking about. He was, in fact, a few years older than you, but you seemed to remember his younger sister was around your age. You also remembered you’d had a hugely embarrassing crush on Danny that resurfaced every year. God, you’d forgotten about him completely, as it had been ten years since you’d seen him, more since you’d seen him with any sort of regularity at the cabin. You remembered it all with clarity now. 

He was three years older than you, and by the time you were eleven and he was fourteen, he started hanging out with the group less and less. Fair enough, he was a teenager, but it didn’t hurt any less. You’d always thought he was cute and he was the only boy in the group who was always nice to you. Looking back, he treated you like a little sister, but you didn’t see it that way then. You remembered the summer you were twelve and he was fifteen when he and another one of the older girls in the group stopped hanging out with you as frequently, only showing up at events where the entire family was present. You’d been devastated when you’d accidentally stumbled upon them making out in her room at a barbecue you’d all been at. By the next summer, you were convinced that because you were thirteen and a full fledged teenager, he’d finally be interested in you. Much to your dismay, he hadn’t even come up north that year, opting to stay home in order to spend more with his friends instead. It was only a couple more years before you stopped spending long stints there in the summer. You realized how much you’d forgotten about your time here.

“So what brings you back?” Danny’s question brought you back from your nostalgia. 

“Well, my grandpa passed away over the winter -“ 

“Oh shit, i’m sorry.”

“Thank you. It wasn’t unexpected, but still. Anyway, my family is actually planning to sell now and I somehow got roped into coming out here for the summer to fix it up and get it ready to put on the market. You live in one shitty house that forces you to learn handy skills and they use it against your for the rest of your life,” you laughed.

“What, by yourself?”

“Not entirely, my dad is coming up to help me out when he can and we will need to hire people to do some of the more complicated projects. But yeah, mostly.” You were kicking yourself the moment you said it. Way to go, Y/N, you thought to yourself. You don’t know the first thing about this guy anymore and he could be a crazed serial killer for all you knew. 

“Anyway, I could ask you the same thing,” you shifted the attention back to him.

“Honestly, I don’t know. Getting away, I guess? I’ve been so stuck with work lately and I thought a change of scenery might be good. Don’t ask why my first inclination was to come here, but it was.”

“By yourself?”

“For now. Three of my friends, more like my brothers actually, are planning to come up in a few weeks and spend most of the summer. They may be going back and forth between here and home a bit more than me though.”

“Where do you live?”

“Nashville.” 

“That’s so cool, I unfortunately didn’t get to go far for college and I was so lucky to move back to my hometown in Michigan after graduation. I’m hoping to save up some money over the summer so I can start looking to move. Enough about me, what is it you do for work?” You were intrigued when he said he was “uninspired”, wondering if he did something creative too.

“Uh, musician,” he said running  his hand through his dark curls. You could tell he assumed you’d react a certain way.

“No shit, that’s sick! What kind of music?”

“I’m in a rock band, drummer. I know it probably sounds kind of lame, but we’ve actually released a few single, and EP, and we just got a contract for our first full record. As exciting as all of that is, I’m having a hell of a time getting anything written to contribute to it. Decided I’d come here for a little bit first by myself, and then the guys are gonna join me in a couple weeks. I thought maybe getting out of the city would help. Plus the lease on my place was up last week and the house I’m set to move into isn’t available September 1st.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s lame at all. I’m trying to break into design, so I kind of get it.”

“Oh really, what kind?”

“My dream would be fashion, it was my main area of focus in school, but I’ve also been building by graphic design portfolio to have something more ‘practical’, as my parents would say.”

“I get that, I’m sure you can imagine my parents were just thrilled when I said I had no desire to go to college right after graduating high school.”

“Sounds like you’re doing great anyway,” you shrugged. You guys talked comfortably for quite a bit longer, catching up on the past ten years. It was nice to have found a friend so early on, at least you hoped you’d found a friend. Danny was so easy to talk to and you felt an effortless connection, even if you hadn’t seen him in a literal decade. Eventually, you picked up your phone, sitting abandoned on the table, and you didn’t like the time.

“Oh god, how is it already three? I’m so sorry, but I should probably go, I have so much work to do,”

“Honey, you have all summer,” Danny said. You wouldn’t admit that your stomach flipped when he called you that. Fuck, were you attracted to him now, still? 

“You’re right, but you have no idea how much I have to do.”

“Can I help with anything? I know I didn’t come here for home renovation projects, but you could persuade me, I think.” 

“I would actually really appreciate that, if only for the company. Tell you what, my main goal for the day was to start cleaning out some of the bedrooms, if you’d want to help? When we make some good progress, maybe we can grab dinner? Like I said, even if it’s just for the company and an accountability buddy.”

“I’d love that. Honestly, I’ve only been here like two days and I’m going insane in my own company. I was so hung up on the idea of taking a solitary trip to work that I forgot I’m an extrovert.” You smiled at him, grabbed your Taco Bell remains, and led him into the house.

“Not to be rude, but you weren’t kidding,” Danny said, looking around the house. 

 “Yeah, it’s so, so bad. We’ve hardly been up here since like, 2017, what with life and school and work, and that was around the time my grandparents weren’t able to come up here by themselves anymore. I think my parents did just enough maintenance so that the neighbors wouldn’t lose their minds.” 

“Gives me an excuse to offer my services around here a lot then?” 

“I think that sounds perfect,” you smiled, leading Danny to the bedroom you and your sisters shared years ago. Before you could stop yourself, you caught yourself thinking that you’d love to be taking him back to your room under much different circumstances. You couldn’t believe that you were down bad for this guy yet again, hours after seeing him for the first time in a decade.

To be continued

#danny wagner #greta van fleet #greta van fic #daniel wagner #danny gvf #sam kiszka #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #danny wagner x reader

[momotonescreaming]

This started as me word-vomiting into @unclewaynemunson 's inbox, and thanks to them encouraging me to flesh it out - I now have this whole thing. Wayne Munson and Scott Clarke build a home together. Clarkson. (3.5k)

Looking back, it seemed inevitable, the pair finding a new home together.

Scott would have never felt comfortable moving into Forest Hills, packing up a whole house worth of stuff and cramming it all into a trailer not even half the size. Living in the middle of many other trailers, where you could hear everything your neighbours did. Mrs. Carter, from the trailer behind them, turned her TV all the way up and you could hear the show as clear as anything from the Munson’s own living room. John and Katie, from just down the way, had screaming matches whenever he got home late from the bar, drunk as anything.

Everyone knew everyone’s business in the trailer park.

Wayne didn’t begrudge Scott that, the same way Scott didn’t blame him in the slightest for not feeling comfortable in the suburbs. In his big house on a street full of semi-identical houses. Full of middle class families with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence, who knew who Scott was, and loved to gossip even though they claimed they didn’t. His house was too quiet, too big, too different.

So they would stay the night, or a weekend, and then drift back to their separate houses. It was fine at first, as they figured out their relationship. Where they stood, how the other worked. But the more time passed, and the more time they spent together — the more Wayne could feel the ache in his chest when they parted. Settling low in his ribs when he had to leave for his shift at the plant, gripping at his chest when he went back to his trailer.

It wasn’t pleasant, but it was enough knowing that he had Scott, even for those short moments.

Then he lost his job at the plant, found himself working during the daylight hours now, and the aching grew worse when he could finally spent full nights curled up in bed with Scott. He knew exactly what he was missing when he left.

Wayne had taken that ache, the longing that seeped into his every pore, and let it grow into something solid. Something he could hold in his hands, run over in his mind. And when it was finally something he could grip, something he understood, he talked to Scott.

In the quiet of Scott’s house, in his bed, when it was just the two of them and the moonlight shining through the gap in the curtains — Wayne held Scott’s hand and asked him if he had ever thought about getting a home together.

And that was how it started.

Wayne would look at the houses for sale in the paper, circling ones he was considering. Scott visited the local real estate office, looking at photos and brochures of what they had on the market. It was a little touch and go for a while, the pair figuring out where the balance was between Scott’s nice suburban house, and Wayne’s cosy trailer.

Eddie had helped, pointing out houses that he said had charm, that told a story. Ones that were fun, or unique, that he thought would be cool to live in. To say that you own.

They had found it eventually, their perfect house. Wayne always thought it was cheesy TV drama, when those couples in real estate shows talked about how they ‘just knew’ when they found their dream home. It didn’t seem so cheesy now that he had it himself.

The house was advertised as a ‘Fixer Upper’. A cosy future home in need of some TLC. A semi-secluded house by the lake front, down a long gravel drive in a small clearing  and surrounded by the forest. Two bedrooms and a detached garage.

Wayne and Scott had discussed it intensively — making sure it was what they wanted, it was the right move, if they were able to fix it up or not. Wayne had talked to Eddie, and to Steve. Running it past both of his boys — while Scott had talked to the bank. Getting opinions, calculating every variable, dotting their I’s and crossing their T’s.

And then there was no reason for them to refuse. So they bought it. They owned a house together.

The real estate agent wasn’t lying when they said it was a fixer upper. The paint was peeling off of the siding, and off the windows. The wallpaper was old and faded. The ceiling leaked. The kitchen didn’t work, and the plumbing was iffy at the best of times. The land was overgrown, and there was a long list of minor things to fix. It was barely inhabitable.

It was perfect.

And so Wayne kept his trailer, and Scott kept his house, and they slowly started to pack things away as they spent weekend upon weekend working on their house.

They get Eddie and Steve round to help clear the long driveway of branches and rocks, to strip the wallpaper and start to give the whole house a deep clean. Eddie only complains the whole time. Wayne smiles at Scott as Steve threatens to dump a bucket of soapy water over Eddie’s head, laughing all the while.

Many an evening is spent flipping through wallpaper samples and paint swatches, Scott passing one over to Wayne to ask for his opinion, only for Wayne to reply that he’s really not an expert on these things. The walls stay bare for a long while. Scott continues to show Wayne colours, determined to find one he will have an opinion on, while Wayne focuses on getting the house habitable first.

Each weekend they make a little more progress. Wayne puts his handyman skills to work, steadily working his way through the house. Scott helps out with the electrics — checking the light fixtures, the switches, making sure nothing major is wrong. They do a lot of cleaning. A lot of cleaning.

But it isn’t always hard work, thankfully. Wayne doesn’t think his back could take it, if it was. There are cool afternoons spent wandering through the empty rooms of their house, cracking open windows to air the place out. Drifting through the rooms with their hands entwined together, discussing what should go where.

How they should lay out their living room, what furniture to keep and what they can get rid of as they merge their things together, do they want curtains or blinds. Shelves and hooks for Wayne's mugs and hats is a given. Scott says so offhandedly, casually — of course they’re going to display his collection in the living room —  and Wayne smiles softly in return, kissing his partner on the cheek.

Scott spends ages talking about where to put the snake tank — telling Wayne about climate and temperature control, adequate space, snake behaviour and the need to hide. He gestures with his hands as he talks, the excitement and sheer joy lighting up his face. Wayne smiles fondly, and it’s nice knowing he doesn’t have to hide that here. He can smile at the man that he loves, and doesn’t have to worry about anyone else, about the outside world. It’s just them, together.

Wayne didn’t realise exactly just how happy this would make him. He knew he loved Scott, and he knew he wanted to be with him, but the sheer happiness of building up their home together had him feeling giddy. He was almost embarrassed about it, how excited for the weekend he was — because he knew he would be wiling away the hours working on making their house a home.

They’re not quite sure who bought it up first, but they end up with an air mattress on the floor of their new master bedroom, piled up with old pillows and spare blankets. The embarrassment fades when Wayne realises that Scott is just as excited to start this new chapter of their lives together. They’ll spend the night on their mattress on the floor, clothes neatly piled up on the hardwood floor next to them.

None of the rooms have curtains yet, so the cold of the forest seeps through the glass window, but Wayne finds he doesn’t mind. He can hear the chirping of the crickets, and can see the stars out the window. It’s nice, he thinks, having their bed face the window so they can see the forest outside. There’s no metal trailers, no raccoon eating trash, no nosy neighbours.

Scott pulls himself closer, entangling his legs with Wayne, wrapping his arms around Wayne’s middle. Their blankets trap the heat, and the cool of the air around them makes the warmth more enticing. Everything is soft and slow, as if the room has slowly filled with molasses. He curls up to Scott, eyes fluttering shut, feeling the warmth of his breath on his skin. Wayne falls asleep to the soft murmurings of Scott softly describing the constellations to him.

--

Wayne wakes up slow, mouth dry and eyes bleary with sleep. He’s warm, limbs heavy as he slowly slips into waking. Blinking, he opens his eyes to find that him and Scott have shifted even closer in sleep; can see that they’ve entangled themselves laying face to face, legs still entwined. Wayne’s legs are bare, having taken his jeans off to sleep only in his boxer briefs. Scott brought a spare pair of pyjama pants (he always did feel the cold a lot more than Wayne), and he can feel the soft fabric of them where Scott’s leg is sandwiched between his own.

The sun is only just rising, sky dusted with soft pinks and oranges. It’s beautiful, but Wayne can’t help but ignore the curtain-less window to watch Scott. He’s still asleep, breath warm and steady as it brushes Wayne’s face with hot air. Face lax, still weighed down by sleep, lit only by the soft glow of the dawning sun. Shifting his arms, Wayne holds Scott loosely, slowly rubbing one hand up and down Scott’s back — feeling the bumps of his spine.

Scott hums contentedly, still asleep, and nuzzles closer to Wayne. He brings his other hand to rest at the base of Scott’s neck, fingers slowly running through his hair. They don’t have anywhere to be, there’s no rush to get to work or school, so Wayne lets himself lay there watching Scott. Feeling the warmth of his body pressed into his, the soft fabric of his undershirt underneath his hands. He doesn’t know how long he stays there, watching Scott sleep, feeling the sun slowly rise as the warmth of it shines through the window. The birds are singing happily in the trees, chirping and tweeting at each other.

He could get used to this; waking up to the sounds of the woods, and the sun, and his lover wrapped in his arms inside their house. There’s a shifting, the air mattress moving underneath them as Scott slowly drags himself into waking. He blinks, eyelids fluttering open and then immediately scrunching shut at the light. Wayne chuckles, leaning over to kiss Scott on the cheek. The mattress squeaks underneath them.

“Mornin’” Wayne whispers, not yet daring to speak at a normal volume. They’re in a sleepy little bubble, wrapped up in their blankets, and it feels as if one wrong move will make it burst, and then they’ll be shocked back into reality. There in the early morning, with his love by his side, on the floor of their new house, the world doesn’t feel real yet. It’s just them, together.

Scott peels his eyes open slowly, sluggishly, smiling at Wayne’s lips on his cheek. “Morning,” he mumbles in return. Half asleep — still barely awake — Scott drags his hand so its resting on Wayne’s waist, thumb running in gentle circles. They melt into the moment, still heavy with sleep and the knowledge that they don’t have to be anywhere else. They can stay in bed, in the rising sun, watching the love on each other’s face.

Drawing his other hand up to cup Wayne’s cheek, Scott gently presses and draws Wayne closer. There’s no pressure, no rush, as Scott leans in to kiss him. Wayne lets himself be handled, sinking into the kiss in return. It’s languid, familiar. A slow, sleepy drag of lips against lips. Scott’s body is warm where it’s inching closer to his, and his 5 o’clock shadow scratches against his own. Wayne smiles against Scott’s lips, joy bubbling up inside, wriggling in his stomach. His hand trails down to settle at the small of Scott’s back, resting there, not pushing or pulling.

There are no expectations, no goal — except for kissing Scott. Scott, who hums happily against Wayne’s smiling lips, feeling it rumble in his chest. They follow the motions of the kiss, not deepening it — hungry and eager — but letting it settle as something soft and sweet. Feeling sleep heavy and a little love drunk.

“I could get used to this,” Scott murmurs into Wayne’s mouth.

“My thoughts exactly,” He replies, their kissing slowing down, morphing into quick pecks, gentle presses of lips in between words. “Good thing we have a house then.”

Scott smiles softly. Another gentle kiss. “Can’t wait for it to be ready.”

“You just want to put me to work,” Wayne jokes, tone light and voice still quiet as he kisses the corner of Scott’s mouth, feeling it draw up into a smile beneath his lips.

“You do look very handsome in a tool belt.” Scott laughs, his voice honey sweet. He presses a quick kiss to Wayne’s cheek, and then leans back, smiling, raking his eyes over Wayne’s face. He looks happy. “Thank you. For doing most of the work on this place. I know I’m not the biggest help.”

“You help plenty.” Wayne replies, gaze softening at Scott’s words. “I couldn’t do this without you. I wouldn’t want to.”

“Thank you,” Scott replies, slowly drawing away from Wayne. He misses the warmth already . “Speaking of helping, I’ll make us coffee.”

They kiss quickly, Scott pulling himself upright and stretching with a sleepy grunt. Wayne follows the motions, letting his hands drift along Scott’s sides as the other man sits up. He lays there for a second, watching Scott, before slowly peeling himself out of bed with only mild grunts at easing his aching back off of the air mattress.

Scott stands there, next to the mattress in his undershirt and pyjama pants, smiling fondly down at him. “You don’t have to get up. I was going to bring the coffee to you.”

“Not as nice without you,” Wayne simply says with a subtle shrug of his shoulders, as if it was a known fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and everything was nicer when Scott was there.

“Come on then,” He says, holding his hand out for Wayne to grab, using it as leverage to ease himself off of the bed and into a standing position.

They don’t speak as they get dressed, falling into a familiar routine. Words aren’t necessary here. He can see Scott’s fondness on his face as he smiles, can feel it in the simple way he hands him his pants before he can even reach for them himself. Knowing that Scott’s eyes raked over his body and saw him shiver in the early morning air — anticipating his need before he can.

So in return he brushes away Scott’s hands, looking up at him through his lashes and buttoning up his shirt. Making sure it matches up, he hasn’t missed a buttonhole, leaving the top buttons undone, just the way he knows Scott prefers. He runs his hands over the fabric, smoothing it out and brushing off imaginary dust. Feeling the warmth of Scott’s chest, and the familiar fabric underneath the rough callouses of his hands.

Scott smiles at him, before leaning over to pick up Wayne’s discarded flannel shirt. He helps him into it, straightening the collar so it lies flat. Wayne smiles back. It somehow feels more intimate helping someone put their clothes on, than it does taking them off.

He follows Scott out of their bedroom, and into the kitchen. It needs a lot of work, and Wayne can’t help but notice it every time he enters. There’s no fridge, the oven is broken, half the cupboards have broken hinges, the floor might need re-tiling. But it has nice big windows that look out the back of the property — over the woods and the lake, the sun reflecting back at them.

Wayne can ever so clearly picture them spending their lazy mornings here together. They’ll put a little table by the window, and Wayne will smile when Scott calls it a ‘breakfast nook’. He’ll cook — making them eggs and toast, or a big stack of pancakes — while Scott brews them up some coffee. They’ll be in their slippers and dressing gowns, fighting off the cold. He’ll be reading the newspaper, while Scott flips through one of those science magazines he’s subscribed to.

There’s a click, and Wayne watches as Scott turns on the small gas cooker they bought from the camping supply store. It’s a small cheap thing, but it does the job. They’ve sat it on the counter, next to a large jug of water they’ve been boiling to help clean off some of the more stubborn dirt. Scott puts a pot on, fills it with water, and lets it heat up as he sets up some of the supplies they prepared. Some of Wayne’s mugs — ones that he didn’t mind leaving at the house, instant coffee, sugar, milk powder.  Some basic groceries that would last, should they need them while they worked on the house.

Wayne gestures with his head, lets Scott know he’s heading outside, and leaves through the back door just off the kitchen. The door is still sturdy, with peeling red paint and a small stained glass window in the middle. It leads off onto the back porch, fairly large, with a white railing and a set of stairs that led down into the clearing out the back. The one with the path that led down to the lake.

They had talked about putting Wayne’s porch couch there, on this new porch, so they could have a place to sit and look out over the lake. It was a nice idea, but for the moment it laid bare, save for an old ashtray. Wayne leans on the railing, and considers why he actually came out here. He doesn’t feel the itch to smoke, the urge shaking his hands, and is surprised but not complaining. So he leans, and breathes, enjoying the sounds of nature and the shimmering lake.

There’s a dock down there, jutting out over the water. Some of the boards were loose, and damaged with time — but it was theirs. Scott had checked with the agent, that dock was theirs to use as they pleased. One day — Wayne wanted to fix it up. Make sure it was sturdy with no risk of breaking any time soon.

He can picture himself using it to go fishing in the early morning, sitting on a deck chair, watching the water and waiting for the sun. Enjoying the chirping of the birds and buzzing of the insects. The sound of the water gently lapping at the dock. Or perhaps a small boat. He can picture Eddie and Steve, heading down to the dock in the heat of the summer sun. In the afternoon, when it was hottest and most oppressive. They’d jump off, splash around, swimming in the lake until their fingertips wrinkled.  He can picture Scott sitting on the end, dangling his feet into the water, smiling at him. Maybe he’s reading a book, maybe he’s sitting next to Wayne, telling him all the assorted fish fact he’s picked up over the years of teaching.

The smell of freshly brewed instant coffee draws him back inside. The back door creaks, but Wayne finds he doesn’t mind. Scott’s at the kitchen counter, stirring their coffee with a cheap plastic spoon. He turns when he hears Wayne enter, smiling at the sight of him, before holding out one of the mugs. It’s white, with a a decal of a fish in the middle of some text that read WOMEN WANT ME, FISH FEAR ME. Eddie had laughed his ass off when he gifted it to Wayne, knowing the pair of them were as gay as anything. Scott’s mug was a faded shade of brown, with looping text in the centre that advertised IT’S COOL TO BE A COWBOY. He smiled at it. 

Wayne takes the coffee, thanking Scott, enjoying the warmth of it as it seeps into his hands. He leans against the counter, and takes a sip. It’s perfect. Exactly how he likes it. Scott smiles at him fondly over the top of his own mug, steam curling up into the cool air, almost caressing his face.

The coffee is instant, the cracked tiles cool underfoot, and none of the appliances work — but Wayne wouldn’t have it any other way.  Not with Scott looking at him like he does, in a house that’s theirs.

#Stranger Things #Wayne Munson #Scott Clarke #Wayne Munson x Scott Clarke #Scott Clarke x Wayne Munson #Clarkson #My Writing #writing this out was how i spent most of my weekend so i hope you like it #im not so sure on the first bit but its done now #the soft sweet shit was very fun to write tho i like those bits

[beefromanoff]

Going Under Ch. 32

summary: I think this is what we'd call a missed connection?

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: Love You Too Much - Bee Gees

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: HI AGAIN, I got this one up super quick because I was considering putting it in the last chapter but also wanted to get one out so I just made them into two. I want to go back and edit some of the last few chapters because I feel like I rushed through them and didn't give them as much TLC as the earlier ones, but I'll let you guys know if I do that so you can go back and reread. anyways, enjoyyyy! I promise I won't drag the angst out forever!

ilysm, thank you for reading! please let me know what you think!

chapter list

________________________________

Bucky

The Quinjet sliced through the night sky, the city lights of Manhattan twinkling below. Inside, the atmosphere was tense, an undercurrent of excitement and anxiety palpable. Bucky sat in the pilot’s seat, his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the approaching skyline.

Natasha and Wanda exchanged a glance before Nat finally broke the silence, "Okay, Barnes, what exactly is the plan when we get there?"

Bucky glanced back at them, uncertainty in his eyes. "I... I don't know. Just need to see her, you know?"

Wanda raised an eyebrow, "See her or talk to her?"

He sighed. "Both, I guess. I messed up, and I finally realize it and…I just need to fix it."

Natasha crossed her arms, studying him intently. "This is a pretty big swing for one night, Buck. Are you sure you’re ready for this?"

“Aren’t you the ones who dragged my ass out of the gym to stage an intervention, like six hours ago? Wasn’t this the goal?” 

“Of course, the goal was to get you to pull your head out of your ass,” Nat shifted in her chair, tugging the hem of her dress down. Neither she or Wanda was thrilled to be told they were either getting ready on the jet or getting left behind. “I just expected you to, I don’t know…think it through for a little longer before making your grand gesture.” 

"I know," he admitted, a pained expression flickering across his face. "But seeing those pictures tonight...seeing my girl with my friends…I had all of that in my life and I ruined it. I need to make things right. I know it sounds crazy but I just…I don’t want to waste any more time than I already have."

Both women gave a soft, knowing smile. “Okay.” Nat squeezed his arm. “Let’s go win her back.”

The Quinjet descended toward the landing pad on the Avengers’ Tower. A quick hundred story descent in the elevator, and they were stepping out onto the streets of Manhattan. As arranged, a car was waiting to take them the few blocks to the lounge that Nat had confirmed their friends were still at.

As the car doors opened after a short, tense drive, the sounds of the city flooded in – distant traffic, the murmur of late-night debauchery. The trio stepped out, immediately beginning to draw attention as they walked to the front of the line.

Wanda nudged Bucky. "Remember, you're here to talk, not to make a scene. We're in public, and Gianna deserves better than a dramatic confrontation."

Bucky nodded, his resolve solidifying. The bouncer eyed them skeptically. "Invitation only." Stepping forward, Bucky let out a low growl as he pushed up the sleeve on his shirt. Like hell if some steroid-brained security guard was going to derail his plan. Before he could take matters into his own hands, a delicately manicured one stopped him.

Natasha flashed a smile and flipped her hair over her shoulder.. "Check the list again."

The bouncer’s eyes widened, immediately recognizing Natasha, and let them through with a nod. 

“I had it under control.” Bucky grumbled sheepishly. 

“I know you did.” 

Gianna

The thumping of the bass reverberated in her chest as Gianna found herself caught up in the night and fully losing track of time. Tony and Sam were leading the charge, going shot for shot with a bachelorette party they’d met at the bar. Somewhere on the dance floor, Madison was dancing with a still-starstruck Peter, who was doing everything in his power to keep her from toppling over.

Amidst the chaos, Gianna spotted Steve sitting in a plush corner booth, offering a reprieve from the noise. He raised his beer to her, gesturing for her to join him as she desperately tried to untangle herself from the crowd. Gianna slid into the booth gratefully, shielded from the cacophony around them.

"So, how's life, Cap?" She smiled, sipping on her drink. She’d been nursing the same espresso martini since they’d arrived over an hour ago, he noticed. 

Steve chuckled. "You know, same old. Saving the world, the usual stuff."

"Boring day job," she teased. The conversation was light, easy. It had always flowed between them before and didn’t seem to be too different now. Although there was no mistaking the hint of guilt, of pity that Gianna could see in his eyes. Like he felt bad for her or somehow held himself responsible for his best friend’s actions. Maybe she was misreading it, and it wasn’t either of those things. Maybe it was just sadness, seeing what could have existed if Bucky hadn’t done what he thought he had to. 

As if reading her mind, Steve took a more serious tone. “We all miss you, G. It hasn’t been the same since you left.” 

Gianna paused, her gaze drifting to the twinkling lights of the club. “I miss you guys too. More than you know.” A moment passed where neither of them spoke. Steve followed her gaze into the crowd, the noise seeming thousands of miles from their booth.

"How's he doing?" Gianna bit her lip after speaking, her voice so soft that anyone other than a super soldier wouldn’t have caught it. 

Steve sighed, his expression briefly clouded. "He's...struggling. It hasn’t been easy on him either. We’ve been trying to help out, but you know Bucky; he's not great at expressing himself."

"Yeah," Gianna acknowledged, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips before faltering. "I wish... I wish he had just talked to me."

Steve nodded, understanding reflected in his eyes. "He's got his demons. Sometimes, most of the time, he fights them alone. Even I don’t know half the battles he’s waging."

“I’m glad he has you. Even if he chooses to do it alone…I’m glad he isn’t.” 

A somber quiet settled between them, strobe lights above the dance floor casting shadows in the dimly lit booth. Steve set his bottle down on the table and leaned forward onto his elbows. “You aren’t alone either, you know. We’re all here if you need us.” 

Gianna gave a half smile before raising her glass to her lips and finally polishing off the martini. A cocktail waitress, likely hoping for either a photo or a large tip, immediately swooped in with a fresh one and whisked the empty glass away. Steve watched her take a sip and didn’t fail to notice that she was suddenly drinking a lot more quickly after the mention of Bucky. 

“How are you doing, G? Really?” His voice was soft.

Gianna paused, eyes staring blankly ahead. For a moment, the public facade dropped. The smile, the rosy cheeks. Her eyes looked gaunt, exhausted. "I love him, Steve. I probably always will. But right now, I... I can’t stand him for what he did." She set her jaw. “I am so angry. All the time. I don’t know how to feel anything else. I was happy before him, or at least I thought I was. I didn’t know what I was living without, and then…there was Bucky. He was everything and he made me feel everything and life was just…better. Brighter. I thought I had everything, but once I met him, I realized I’d walk away from it all and never look back so long as I was walking with him.” 

She slowly twirled the stem of her glass between her fingers, smiling sadly. “I found what I was missing. Or so I thought. Then…he just pulled away. I could feel it, you know.” She met Steve’s eyes. “When I started losing him. I didn’t want to believe it. I told myself it was something else, it wasn’t us. Things between us were perfect. Then they just…weren’t. It felt like I was stabbed and I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I just had to sit there and watch the life leak out of me. Then, right when I thought I knew pain, he came in and destroyed me for good.” 

Her lower lip quivered, but Steve knew she wasn’t done speaking. He had a feeling she hadn’t really been listened to since she left, maybe even before that. A pang of guilt hit him in the chest. 

“He wasn’t supposed to leave. He was the one person who saw me. He was supposed to be here…he was supposed to stay. I was fine on my own, I liked my life. But Bucky…” A single tear slid down her cheek, cutting through her perfect makeup. “He came into my life and made me realize everything I could have, everything I was missing. He let me fall in love with him and then he fucking left. Now I’m here, alone again, telling myself it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all but that’s just bullshit. I would rather have never felt love than to have felt it and now have this gaping hole in my heart where he was supposed to be.” Her fist hit the table hard enough to rattle the glass. 

The intensity of the moment seemed to surprise her, jolting her back into her poised persona. “Damn,” She mustered a soft smile. “This is why I don’t drink vodka.” 

Steve's gaze was soft, concerned. He opened his mouth to speak before being distracted by a group approaching their booth. Gianna saw them first, eyes brightening as she recognized someone. Quickly brushing the tear off her cheek, she slid out of the booth to greet them. A brunette man led the charge, pulling her into a friendly hug. As he pulled back, Steve recognized him as the actor set to play Bucky in an upcoming movie. The one Steve had encouraged him to sign off on. Watching Gianna embrace the man who looked shockingly like his friend, albeit with smaller stature, he felt slightly guilty. He reminded himself that as much as he tried to protect Bucky, he was a grown man who made his own choices, and this was the result of one of those choices. Deciding to be polite, he slid out of the booth after Gianna and waited for a chance to introduce himself. Noticing his presence behind her, Gianna stepped to the side and gestured between the two men.

"This is Sebastian Stan, a good friend of mine. Seb, this is Steve, Captain America himself." She smiled easily. 

Sebastian extended a hand, and Steve shook it with as genuine of a smile as he could muster. "A man who needs no introduction. It’s an honor."

"Nice to meet you. A friend of Gianna’s is a friend of mine." Steve replied, the noise of the lounge already making him want to retreat to his booth. Sebastian seemed nice enough, but he didn’t exactly want to stay and exchange life stories. As he excused himself to handle the small matter of Sam hoisting a petite brunette onto his shoulders for some unknown reason, he heard their conversation continue behind him.

"Long time no see. How was the week?" Gianna asked.

Sebastian chuckled. "Well, your advice has been invaluable. I'm starting to understand the guy a bit more. As much as anyone can. I know I say it every time I see you, but seriously, thank you for your help."

Gianna leaned back against the plush booth, sipping her drink. "It's not every day you get to help someone play your ex on the big screen, right?"

Sebastian laughed heartily. "True, true. But seriously, your insights have been gold. I’m sure it isn’t easy, but I’m sure he’d appreciate knowing you care enough to help me get it right.”

Gianna nodded, her expression thoughtful before she decided to shift gears, winking. "Just thank me in your Oscar acceptance speech and we’ll be even.”

Bucky

The lounge was alive with energy, the music pulsing through the air. In the hour it had taken them to get to the doorstep, the place had hit capacity. The line stretched around the block with people hoping to get a chance to party with their favorite celebrities. The low lit room was teeming with people. Some on the dance floor, some at the bar, some huddled in the plush booths lining either side of the room. This was exactly the kind of place he never wanted to be. Too many sounds, too many people. Maybe if he could actually get as drunk as all the other patrons, it wouldn’t be half bad. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. So he hated nightlife. Tonight, it was a necessary evil.

Spotting Gianna across the crowded room, Bucky's heart quickened. She was facing the right side of the room, talking to someone blocked by the crowd. She was smiling, laughing, the same way she always seemed to be photographed lately. 

Bucky took a deep breath, the noise of the crowd fading as he focused on the task at hand. Nat and Wanda flanked him, silent support in the midst of the chaos. He made a mental note to thank Wanda for her solidarity. On any other night, she would have fled as soon as they got inside. She loved places like this. Tonight, she hadn’t budged from his side. Taking a deep breath, he began to weave through the crowd.

As Bucky navigated the crowded space, his eyes scanned the room until they again landed on Gianna. This time, he paused. The sight of her happiness, genuine and infectious, was both a balm and a dagger to his heart. From this closer vantage point, he could see her so clearly. Clear enough that he could tell her smile wasn’t fake. Close enough that he could see exactly who it was that she was talking to.

Heartache surged through him, icy in his veins. His breath caught. A whirlwind of emotions churned within him. Jealousy, regret, and a sense of unworthiness surged back to the forefront. He was torn between the desire to interrupt, to hold her and tell her he was sorry and beg her to forgive him. To tell her he loved her and would never make such a stupid decision again. He was torn between the reason he came and the realization that Gianna appeared truly, genuinely happy.

The internal conflict waged on, and finally, he made his choice. Gianna looked content. She was here in her element, with the kind of people she was supposed to be with, her laughter was genuine, and he couldn't bring himself to disturb that.

He turned away, face solemn.

"Bucky?" Natasha's eyes were sharp, reading the turmoil etched across his face.

He shook his head. "Not tonight. I can't... It's not the right time. You were right.”

Natasha exchanged a knowing look with Wanda, but Bucky interrupted before either of them could speak. “I’m sorry I dragged you all the way out here. You guys should stay, have a good time. Tell the others I said hey.” He forced a smile, trying to look like he wasn’t falling apart inside. “I’ll hang back at the tower. Don’t get into too much trouble.” 

He tousled Wanda’s hair before turning to leave, his broad frame weaving through the club's patrons like a ghost. The two women watched as Bucky, cloaked in shadows and the weight of his own decisions, departed from the club alone.

Gianna

A flash of red hair caught her eye over Sebastian’s shoulder, immediately grabbing her attention. 

“Nat?” Her voice was overjoyed. “Wanda?!”

"G!” Wanda squealed, running the last few steps between them and engulfing her into a rib-crushing hug that Nat joined.

“What are you guys doing here?!” Gianna beamed, forgetting about the conversation she had just left.

Natasha smirked. "Well, we couldn’t let the guys have all the fun, now could we?”

“You’ve got some catching up to do, if you’re looking to compete with them.” Gianna grinned, gesturing to the bar, where Tony was now doing a rockette-style dance with half the bachelorette party.

“Say no more.” She gestured to the lingering cocktail waitress. “Three tequila shots, please.” Her eyes darted to Steve, sheepishly standing by the bar after a failed attempt to corral Sam. “Make that four.”

Gianna’s smile faltered, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Guys…I'm sorry I haven't kept in touch. It's just...It hurt too much. I wasn’t ready yet."

Wanda gave her a sympathetic smile. "We understand, G. We didn’t think a thing of it. But we’re here now, we missed you like crazy, and we have so much catching up to do!" She waggled her eyebrows at Sebastian, chatting with the group he came with in Gianna’s absence. 

She rolled her eyes, waving off Wanda with a laugh. "You guys have no idea how much I needed this. Hey, why don't you come stay with me for a few nights? Catch up for real. I can show you my new place and everything!"

Natasha nodded immediately. "Hell yes. We missed our girl time." She linked arms with Gianna. “And our girl. Plus it’s been a total sausage fest at the compound and we need to get away from all the testosterone.”

They laughed and fell back into friendship like there had never been any pain or separation at all. Nat dragged Steve over to take the shot with them, and Gianna caught the way his eyes lit up when he saw her there. Right after the look of pleasant surprise, his brow furrowed and his eyes darted past her scanning the crowd. Barely perceptibly, Nat caught his eye and shook her head. 

Gianna furrowed her brow, feeling like there was more to the story. However, before she could press, Wanda grabbed her arm. 

“Let’s dance, I just saw Peter and -- oh my god, is that Madison Beer?!”

As they walked, Gianna couldn't help but cast a glance toward the entrance, a flicker of hope in her heart. She wished, just for a moment, that someone else would walk through that door. Someone she missed more than she cared to admit. But, with a sigh, she shook off the thought, determined to give herself over to the buzz from the tequila and the night with her friends.

#avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #winter soldier #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #winter soldier fluff

[impossiblesuitcase]

Do you things cinder gets hit on a lot? If so what’s her reaction to it? What’s Kai’s reaction? We already know basically ever girl in existence flirts with Kai the minute they see him.

also do you like when anons send you hc’s or hc requests or does it get annoying?

Anyone who is famous will have many admirers, so yes, I think she'd get hit on online and irl. She's a common celebrity crush, named most attractive woman of the year multiple times, and even receives several proposals, ring and all.

At first, Cinder is still dead-set convinced that she is not considered attractive to others. Kai liking her is some anomaly, she thinks, because no one else has ever showed interest in her before.

When she becomes queen, she gets a few aristocrats coming up to her confessing their love, but her orange lie detector flashes, confirming that they are just saying it to ingratiate themselves with her. She informs them that she's in a relationship and that's the end of that.

Until she starts to meet fans. Who love her. Adore her. And for some, it's in admiration, but others are romantically attracted to her. The first time someone hits on her and she realises her lie detector is not going off, she stares at them, almost trips, and tries to comprehend that someone is attracted to her and it's not Kai.

In canon, she gets quite flustered by flirts or compliments:

It takes a while to get used to. She learns to brush off silly flirtations and pick-up lines, show her ring and apologise or just sometimes say 'no thank you.' But when someone is genuinely in love with her, she is very gentle in rejecting them, something she learns from Kai's expertise with turning down fangirls.

Kai finds Cinder's suitors amusing, and laughs at how confused and fumbling she becomes. It doesn't bother him much as he knows nothing will come from these interactions:

Sometimes he will steal the pick-up lines that these guys use on Cinder just to see her eyes roll.

However we do know that Kai is protective of Cinder and wasn't the greatest fan of competition initially, i.e hating that Cinder ran away with Thorne.

So if a guy was too flirty or too insistent with Cinder, I don't think Kai would as easily laugh it off. He'd let her stand her ground, but linger by her side as support if she needed it with a hearty glare at the perpetrator. A few times he does step in when Cinder gets uncomfortable.

I love headcanons and asks! Feel free to send them! It takes me a bit longer to respond to some if I need to formulate my thoughts.

I have noticed however that I'm writing less fic because I'm using my tlc creative juices on answering asks, so regretfully I won't always respond to all (I would respond to some asks privately but most are anons so I can't). But don't see this as me saying to never send asks! I love receiving them, please continue doing so. Please note, I won't respond to any I'm uncomfortable with e.g. too gory or sexual.

#tlc #the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #kaider #linh cinder #emperor kai #prince kai #selene blackburn