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chronically-ghosted · 2 months

Text

i'm swingin' blind and you're stunning me without any gloves

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 9K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: the night continues while the two of you dance around the inevitable. dieter's restraint is foiled by dreams of a water bed.

warnings/tags: depictions of drugs, age gap, cum eating, piv sex, not actually incest but close, concerns about getting old, reader is at least 18 (by how much is up to you), no use of y/n, oral (f receiving), hand jobs (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, squirting, the barest hint of overstimulation, oh and SMUT.

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“Do all movie stars have six empty bedrooms they don’t use?”

“They’re not always empty . . . I mean, it’s good for parties. Gives people space to get out of the chaos if they want, or if they need a place to crash. Keeps the energy, uh, flowing. Keeps the vibes good.”

He uses the joint to take the place of having to explain that the room you just passed was in fact used as a revolving door for anyone who wanted a bump only two weeks ago. The second floor stretches out into the darkness, the nasty weather outside beating against the windows. He keeps a slow steady pace, the high making his insides comfortably warm as you wander in and out of rooms, like a less frantic, totally-fuckable version of that Scooby Doo gag. He’s quite sure he’ll never be able to watch Saturday morning cartoons the same way.

So far, you’ve been content with asking rather inane questions, filler questions that he suspects you’re hoping reveal more than he’s giving. The response to the question being more important than the answer itself.

So no one lives in these rooms? No.

Do you ever use these as anything else other than bedrooms? No.

What’s outside by the pool? A gym.

A gym with full length mirrors that he used to adore snapping selfies in, in his younger cop show days, and without much prompting, would admit to masterbating to on occasion.

You’ll always be your own greatest critic so fuck ‘em.

You come out of the last bedroom, smirking faintly as though someone had told you a particularly naughty secret, humming faintly to yourself. He never much cared for giving tours but given that you walked ahead of him and gave him adequate time to ogle the backs of your thighs, he could think of worse ways to spend time with you.

“Mhm hmm,” you mutter to no one in particular. The carpet is plush, but that is the only thing you could say you really enjoyed about the style of the house. Everything else, especially the almost clinically clean air to it, makes it feel like a hotel, as if Dieter is mold growing in someone else’s house. Again, these are filed as things that helped fill out the picture of the man your uncle had become, if not the man he wanted to portray.

“So where do you sleep?”

He had been lulled into such a stupor of quiet fantasy fueled by his warm high that he didn’t even think twice when he pointed down the hall.

“God, it just keeps going, doesn’t it?”

Turns out the path to moral degradation isn’t a straight line, but a curved slope. One he finds himself on, going down round and round and round, the longer he watches your legs, the curve of your ass, the bright smile as you quite obviously tried to get a glimpse of the old Dee. But that's the thing about drugs that he finds he so actively craved – of course there is the euphoria, the chemical sensations, the wires of your brain plugged into different outlets and restarting the whole system. But he's found that’s when people tended to be their most honest, most unpolished and they weren’t afraid to be like that.

There was a lot of talk around the ego and the ID in his early acting classes. Who was your character when their ego had been pulled back like strips of skin?

But as he got older, the question he became more obsessed with was, who were the people around him when they weren’t being paid to like him?

You, of course, are different from all that. You hadn’t built up an ego quite yet. You hadn’t built up the mechanisms required to survive the world because you hadn’t needed to. Sure, you could deflect and get what you wanted by batting your eyelashes, but there are times he felt ugly in the skin he had built. Like somewhere along the way, he had tried on all these hats and now they had all attached themselves to his head and he couldn’t tear them off if he tried. His costume didn’t fit– his face wasn’t even visible any more.

And who exactly had spent the last fifteen minutes trailing after his beautiful, carefree niece, a single breath away from getting so hard it hurt, in this massively empty mansion? What version of himself wants to snake a hand into those shorts and effectively ruin you for anyone else – wanted to grip you so hard there’d be bruises and tears in your eyes when you came?

Which one of them is he willing to show you?

All of them. None of him. The ID.

You glance over your shoulder, curious that he hadn’t answered you.

“Yeah,” he sighs, smoking between his two fingers again. “Could get lost in a place like this.”

You pause in your inspection, eyes soft because of the drugs or the low lighting or something else, and take his hand. “Lucky I’ve got you then.”

His mouth is instantly dry in a way that has nothing to do with the weed. He offers you the joint and you smoke too, eyelids drooping, allowing him another second of looking.

And then another smile breaks across your face.

“Fuck,” your laugh turns into a cough. “Did you ever get that stupid fucking waterbed you wouldn’t shut up about? I remember you swearing the first thing you’d buy when you were rich and famous was a waterbed – which I thought was so fucking cool because I’d never heard of a waterbed before because I was seven and it sounded like something totally made up — so of course, someone rich and famous could have one.”

You’re still holding hands, your palm dry and warm, when he laughs too. He takes the joint back from you, eyes narrowing as he looks at you out of the corner of his eyes.

Turns out moral degradation is a fucking cannon ball.

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

You squeeze his hand, eyes bright, before almost sprinting down the hall to the room on the right. He follows you, struck by the notion this is the first and last time you’ll ever enter his bedroom. This has to be the end of something.

He hears a grunt and a groan and he can’t help but smile. He saunters into the room, leaning up against the door frame with his hands in the pockets of his robe. You are face down on the mattress, hands under your chest.

“This is not a water bed,” you grumble, the sound muffled.

Once again, Maria deserved a raise just for making his bed.

“No, it’s not,” he says slowly, as he edges a teasing tone into his next words. “Look, I did get a fucking water bed, alright? Just about a century ago when they were still a thing.”

You ease up onto your elbows and glare at him. “Can’t believe you got rid of it. What a waste.”

And then you’re sliding back onto your knees, hands planted on the covers, and for just a second, he swears he can see the outline of your cunt through the material that could hardly be called shorts.

His knees actually buckle for a second before he stands up right and physically has to close his eyes. Looking away wouldn’t have been enough.

But you don’t see all of this. You’re frowning down, as if glaring hard enough will bypass physics and liquidate the mattress.

“What happened to it? The water bed, I mean.”

Just as he’s gotten his heart rate back under control, your question throws everything into a spiral again.

Do not fucking tell her about the hookers and the brass pasties. Or the cock ring. Definitely do not mention the cock ring.

“It, uh, popped.”

You smirk over your shoulder. “It was a sex thing, wasn’t it?”

The question lingers, Dieter unable to make a coherent word that didn’t sound like take your pants off right fucking now, so he swallows and shakes his head. By some minor miracle, you shrug and don’t push it, sliding off the bed and completing your assessment of his life by regarding the book collection against the opposite wall.

It’s bigger than you expect someone like Dieter to have, but its placement in the house – almost hidden in his private bedroom – suggests that its volume is not there to impress. It’s his personal collection and, judging by the bent spines, books he’s actually read, perhaps several times. There’s a small desk next to it, crouching in the corner and littered with sheets of paper that look like they were torn from a sketchbook.

He couldn’t decide which version of himself he wanted you to see less: Dieter, full of vices, or Dieter, bratty actor who only acted in the first place because he couldn’t cut it as a real artist.

Your hands run over the sketches, eyes annoyingly unreadable, and just as he’s about to leap forward and scoop all of the sketches into the trash, you move on. Your interest is caught by some of the books. You make noises that are both outside of the realm of approval or disgust and he finds himself nervous. Book reading is about the last thing on anyone’s mind once they’ve reached the final destination of The Bedroom, so he’s never worried about what someone might think. But this isn’t just someone, it’s you.

His mouth opens to make some quippy remark, when you gasp and lunge forward, grabbing something at the back of the shelf.

“Holy shit, that’s you!”

You hold up a picture of his high school’s production of Othello and there he is fifteen and smack dab in the middle of the cast.

“Oh fuck, I forgot that was there,” he groans, dropping the nearly gone joint into an ashtray by the side of the bed. You’re practically glowing with excitement and he rolls his eyes as he takes it from you.

“Jesus Christ, look at that kid. Has no idea what kind of dumbass he’s going to grow up to be.”

Three years after that photo was taken, he had left in the middle of the night for Hollywood. Of course, just as he had finished packing up his piece-of-shit Chevy, Enrico caught him. Exploded in his face and scolded him in his old man ways for leaving without saying nothing.

He kept this photo because it was the last thing that reminded him of home and yet so distant it didn’t hurt as bad any more.

“I think he did spectacular for himself,” you grin at him. “Who knew The Dieter Bravo was such a softie for the old days?”

He smirks at you, finally sick of you kicking his ass all night. There is a line between fucking you and out sassing you, one he could live with. You aren't fucking ready for that Dieter.

“No way,” he rubs the bottom of his lip with his thumb, artfully contemplative, and purposefully distractingly hot. “Just keep it around for the spank bank. Ms. Lemons was a babe.”

You narrow your eyes at him as he leans across you to put the photo back. “Oh yeah? I gave my first blow job in that blackbox.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did!”

“What was his name?”

“Jeremy.”

“Jeremy what?”

“Jeremy . . . Barnes.”

“Pssh, fake name, fake boyfriend, fake story.”

“He was real! I just . . . can’t remember his last name right now.”

“Blurs together with all the other guys you’ve blown, right?”

You bite the corner of your mouth, your smirk so tight he can almost picture your toes curling. Not that he’d dare break eye contact with you now. Now that he’s got you practically pinned to the bookshelf, photo forgotten and something that’s been slinking around for the past three hours finally rolling on its back and exposing its belly.

He knows The Look, he practically invented it, and he can’t quite remember why it’s not okay to get that from your niece and someone twenty years younger than him. Right now, the portion of his brain that can sort that’s fucked up and it’s not that hard to refrain from being a fucking creep is filled with smoke, a sort of hissing sound there that is not unlike a shaken soda begging for release.

And dear God does he want release. But he’s willing to edge it just a bit longer, scrape that muscle as gingerly as he can before touching it where it needs to be touched.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you say softly, meekly being cowed for the first time all night. Fuck, do you have to make it so easy?

“That’s right. You don’t. Because if it were any good, you’d remember it.”

He puts a hand above your shoulder to stop himself from sinking into you. Weed made the world feel plushy, moldable – and he just wants to lounge in the dip of your bottom lip. You look so different from the girl who showed up soaking wet at his front door.

Your breathing hitches the closer he comes, your eyes fluttering as you watch his fingers dig into the spines of the books.

“What’s his first name again, darling? Do you still remember that?”

You gasp, loudly, as if his itching fingers had finally sunk in between your legs, but you’re sliding away from him and pulling out something from the shelf. Something white and something he should have fucking hidden better.

“Oh my God, is this my senior yearbook?”

You’re wandering over to his bed, leaving Dieter reeling, his own spell so alarmingly effective he is caught beneath it too. It takes him a moment to blink as he realizes maybe this is where you reneg and decide you don’t want to fuck him after all.

“It’s not as weird as it sounds –,” he begins, heart in his throat, and hands safely in his pockets as he joins you near the bed. You still haven’t looked up as you flip through the glossy pages.

“Sure, sure.”

“Look, your dad sent it to me and I didn’t even open it,” he says honestly. The package was delivered on the Tuesday afternoon when he woke up so hungover he actually thought he might die, and couldn’t bear the thought of not recognizing you in the class photo.

Funny how that all fucking worked out.

You hadn’t leapt off the bed, called him a dirty old man, and ran away to call the police. Which are probably good signs. So, slowly, he sits down next to you, halfway on the bed and halfway off.

“He sent it just a few weeks ago. I didn’t really think much of it at the time,” he says quietly. So you had been on the high school’s newspaper staff, as well as being the captain of the journalism club and ran the book club. You were on the volleyball team and co-Secretary of the student body government. Here, he spent all night trying to find out what kind of person you are when half your life is waiting for him upstairs. “But maybe he sent it as, like, some sort of . . . fond reminder.”

You snort, your thumb tucked under your chin as your hand touches the memories on the page.

“No, it fucking wasn’t. He was guilt-tripping you.”

So your dad definitely still remembered the fight all those years ago. Dieter grimaces. His gaze slides from the stock pages, to your knee, down the crease of your thigh.

“You know, he would have made me your godfather if–,”

“If you weren’t such a fuck up. Yeah, he told me that too.”

You finally look at him and find him nearly out of breath, eyes wide as though he had been struck by a sledgehammer right to the chest.

“Actually, he told me if I came around more.”

Your face crumples, the flippancy gone.

“Fuck, Dee, I’m sorry.” You cup the back of his neck with your palm in a soothing gesture and it stirs something within him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It is what it is.” Deflection, distraction, escape.

You smile gently, thumbing his curls as your eyes roam his face, seeing right through his bullshit.

“You know, you kinda became the cautionary tale around us growing up,” you murmur, gaze searching his face. “Not sure why, though. Since you’re, like, a gazillionaire.”

Not worth it. None of it’s worth it.

“I get that. I get why he didn’t want me around. Probably best that I fucked off and never looked back.”

The corners of your eyes crinkle, as though he had said something that didn’t make sense. You stop combing his hair and run your thumb over his ear.

“But I don’t think you are,” you say slowly, as though you didn’t need to explain. “A cautionary tale, I mean. I think you’re . . . an inspiration. No one in our town ever fucking leaves, but you did. You got the fuck out and lived your dreams. And that’s pretty cool.”

There’s not any hope for me, not if you knew all the fucked up shit I want to do to you.

Don’t look at me like that.

When he looks around for some self control, something to pull himself out of the pit he’s dragging you both in, there’s nothing. All eroded.

Moral degradation is a smooth fucking shot.

The yearbook drops from your lap, clatters to the ground as he takes your face with both his hands, his rings pressing into your cheeks, and kisses you so hard his lips knock against your teeth. The force of it rocks you flat against the mattress, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, grounding you to him – don’t take this back, don’t let go – and his tongue runs against your bottom lip once before your mouth opens without hesitation. He can feel that, that desperation, that eagerness to let him in, and he groans into the hollow of your mouth and you take it, you match it, just like everything else he'd given you this night.

Your tongue rises to catch him, to guide him, to show him the places you need to be touched. He’ll get there, you little thing, so he nips your upper lip and you gasp, your body tightening beneath him. He grins – there’s so much you have to learn.

His palm drifts away from your jaw, thumb gentle as it coaxes your cheek to the side, before he latches his lips to your neck, sucking and then a quick bite– all eased by his tongue. Your fingers dig up into his hair, clutching him to your chest as there is anything, anywhere else he’d rather be in the world. As if anyone could pry him off you.

He dives back into your mouth, air rushing out of your nose in a silent moan, and your knee hooks out around his hips, pulling him into the cradle of your lap. You jerk back –

“Dee, you’re – holy shit –,”

Your hips brush up as if you had somehow gotten it all wrong the first time. As if he isn’t rock hard above you. Your eyes widen as he smirks down at you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s all you. All you do to me.”

He chuckles, dropping his head to your chest, breathing deeply, head spinning from kissing you so thoroughly. He inhales, nose rubbing against the soft material of your shirt, ideas of peeling it off you with his teeth. Your scent, it’s all at once intoxicating, mesmerizing, and . . . familiar.

He groans, almost nuzzling your chest.

“Fuck, this smells like that nasty deodorant from 711 I used to buy ‘cause I couldn’t afford anything else.”

You slowly open your eyes up at him, a distantly embarrassed smile curling up the corners of your mouth. You look hazy, blurred, lips flushed and pink from getting them sucked and bitten. Had he not just licked your entire mouth clean from spit, you might have blushed.

Your fingers curl gingerly around the back of his neck. “Well, you never forget your first.”

His mouth falls open. You had successfully knocked him back on his ass for a second time that night.

“Shut the fuck up,” he husks, a grin breaking across his lips as the hand at your shoulder pulls gently at the sleeve. “This is my shirt? This has got to be older than you are.”

A small part of his brain, the part that definitely would object to fucking his pseudo-niece, goes warm at the thought that some part of him still lived in that neighborhood, was still there for all the important moments of your life.

That is until the very active part of his brain lumbers in, quashes all gentle feelings and promptly wrestles for control of his mouth to ask you flat out if you ever touched yourself while wearing it. Not that he didn’t want to know, but if you said yes, he would have come right there on the spot, perhaps so hard his dick popped off. So he did not ask you that, but he did satisfy that part of his brain by molding his hand around your hip, so he could feel the cool fabric on the back of his hand, and your warm, plush skin against his palm.

You like her being drenched in you, don’t you?

You swat at his chest, rolling your eyes, oblivious to his rapidly darkening thoughts. “It is not older than me, but if it was . . . would that be a problem?”

You pick at imaginary lint on his shoulder, hips rolling just enough to indicate it better not be a fucking problem, and a smirk on your face that reads innocent and filthy all at once.

Dieter shakes his head, grinning as he inches his wide palm up your hip, across the thin flesh of your ribs and –

Does not find a bra.

You had not been wearing a bra the entire night.

Your smirk deepens, your back arching into his palm, as his thumb brushes the underside of your breast, then over your tightening nipple. You moan softly, eyes fluttering, when he pinches it deftly. His jaw ticks, teeth grinding from the pleasure of watching your mouth arch open.

It’s like you had been given a list of all the things that turned him on and you are crossing them off one by one. Like you had skinned him and read all his little nasty thoughts written on his ribs and made them your own.

Like you were made for him.

He leans forward, the bristles of his beard and mustache rough like matches against the shell of your ear, his voice so weighty it could have been another physical thing he intended to drive into you, intended to rub against you to make you keen with pleasure.

“It’s not a fucking problem, you little brat. Only problem is gonna be if it keeps me from watching those pretty tits bounce while I fuck you.”

There it is. Out in the open. As if all his flirting and touching and tongue between his teeth hinted at something else besides you spread out under him. Half delirious from being so hard, he grins as he bites the bottom of the shirt – his shirt, Jesus Christ – and pulls it up and he ducks his head under the material and presses a sucking kiss into the valley of your tits.

He likes giving head from underneath the sheets because, yes, it was hard to breathe. It was hot and stifling and everything smelled of sweat and sex and eventually his brain was forced to make a decision about what motor functions to hold onto and he made it focus on sensations until he was sure he’d be swallowed up by the cunt under his mouth or impaled by the cock in the back of his throat and if that’s how they found him dead, he’d be absolutely fine with all of it.

Dieter Bravo – died doing what he loved. Giving immaculate, delicious head.

The heat under the shirt is nowhere near as intense but it’s enough to make him flush with want. He licks the sweat gathering underneath your right tit, holds it on his tongue before he lathers both his spit and your sweat over your clearly-painfully tight nipple. Every touch of his makes you stutter and he can feel you unconsciously rubbing your hips up against him.

“This isn’t going to end up on Youtube or some shit, right?” You ask above him, your voice rough as though your throat is dry. “You don’t have cameras filming this, right, Dee?”

He chuckles with his nose rimming your left nipple. Do you have a voyeur kink? He muses vaguely.

Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have gotten rid of that mirror.

“No, baby, it’s not going on Youtube.” He runs his warm palms up the curves of your side as he tugs his head out from underneath the shirt. “All the videos go directly to a password-protected server in the Cloud.”

“Dee–,” you groan as he lunges forward and kisses you hopefully so hard it knocks those silly thoughts from your brain before pulling back to grin helplessly at you.

You cannot physically describe how impishly adorable he looks with his hair mussed, his lips pink and twisted in a smirk – you cannot really do anything at all, really – but your hand slides up from his shoulder, across his warm neck and settles into his cheek. The last bit of brown is swallowed by a swelling blackness as you rub your thumb across the bottom of his lip. This thing that has been eating at you the longer you’re around him edges you on, daring you to push him just a bit further because it knows you’d just love what he’ll do. It knows more than you, but it’s not exactly smarter than you. It’s just simply fascinated by Dieter Bravo.

Your own mouth parts, your eyelids growing heavy, as you swipe across his lips one more time before sliding your thumb into the warmth of his mouth. Eyes never leaving yours, his tongue greets your thumb, massaging the pad before licking around it like he’d swirl off the top of an ice cream cone. He sucks gently and you can’t fight the noise that comes out of you. Almost shocked, surprised that you can feel this aroused with all your clothes on and just his tongue. He drags his tongue across the back of your knuckle and the groan is louder now – you want to bite into him – and he pushes his hips into the mattress.

“C’mere, baby girl–,”

Dropping your thumb, he dives in again for your mouth, this time the back of his hand grasping your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you as if forgetting there was another way to relieve the tension in his gut, the spark that's fanning smoke like a brushfire into every place your skin, your spit, touches his.

“Take– this– off–,” He pants between the hot presses of his mouth to your jaw, your neck, the spot beneath your ear that makes you keen in a new way. His hands are scrambling over yours to get the shirt up and over your head, desire almost making him panic that everything is going too fast but not fast enough – he wants to be inside of you in every way that matter – he wants you to smell like him – to breath his same air –

He’s not so much kissing as opening his mouth over your skin, his teeth and tongue and lips fighting over themselves to get to you first. He wants to linger, wants to take his time but the pressure – he deliriously thinks he can smell you – and only when his fingers clamp down on the waistband of your shorts – he has half a mind to punish you for walking around in these things, making his sanity unwind in the hallways of this fucking place, until the only truly sane thing to do is fuck you and fuck you good – the thought is so strong, almost violent he pauses.

He looks up to the devastation he’s left in his wake – bright, purple spots on the inside of your breasts, under your ribs, the small swell of your stomach, your chest heaving – and he watches your face. You realize he’s stopped moving, slowed in his volcanic thunderous roll down to the clutch of your cunt, and you meet his gaze. You swallow, mouth too dry to form words, so you splat a hand on his shoulder.

"No robe. I’m not – not going to let you f-fuck me in a bathrobe.”

He grins. Of course, you would sass him after a make out session so intense he doesn’t even care if he comes in his pants. But he obliges, pretty much willing to cut off a finger if you continue to purr at him like you are.

“Excuse you, this is lounge wear.” He leans back onto his knees and shrugs himself out of the green robe. Your eyes flash to the triangle on his forearm and he’d be fucked to admit he didn’t get it entirely for the look in your eyes right now. Chicks always dug the tattoos. Your tits bounce as your breathing hitches.

Not Daddy’s girl, his smoke-heavy, lust-soaked brain chants at him, not Daddy’s girl.

God, he’s so hard it hurts.

He goes back down, dropping himself between your legs, arms tucked up under the backs of your thighs. He mouths the inside of your thigh – a distraction as his hand, like some sort of fucked up, horny magician performs a slight-of-hand, “iiiis this your clit?” – rubs you over your shorts. You are soaking wet and he’s fighting the urge to just dig in there, suckle you through the wet spot. He hadn’t actually made someone come that way before, but now seemed like an excellent opportunity to try.

“You know, for someone who has to couch-surf, you talk a lot.”

He noses the rim of the bottom of your shorts, allowing a full gaze down to your ass.

“Sorry if I’m sick of fucking boys who look like their mom dressed them.” You are breathless, shaky, unwinding at the seams and you know exactly what to say to dig right into him.

He bites the soft place at the back of your thigh and you groan.

“I thought you couldn’t remember any of them before me,” he purrs, watching that damp spot grow darker the longer he talks, the longer he holds off on touching you where you and him and the entire fucking world knows you need to be touched.

Maybe you ran your mouth too, when you were nervous, overwhelmed. Maybe you laughed too loud when you didn’t know what else to do, and maybe you gave him shit because the second words stopped coming out of your mouth, you’d have to sink into whatever he was giving you. You’d have to kneel to the white lighting between your legs. Maybe you were afraid there wouldn’t be white lightning at all.

Families share similar insecurities, after all.

He waits until you open your mouth again before hooking his fingers under the band of your shorts.

“Hmm, there’s actually a fairly long list of guys before you. Guys who–,”

He sucks the skin just an inch to the right of your hip bone, just before the patch of curly hair, he sucks it into his mouth and bites so gently he knows that your brain nearly splits in half from the hairline fracture between pleasure and pain.

You gasp and you’re already arching off the bed. He breathes across those coarse, damp curls and inhales.

Girlsex.

Girlsweat.

It’s like there’s acid corroding his brain, eating away at the clamps holding his sanity together and he’s gonna go fucking ballistic if the acid doesn’t get to him first. But he wants the burn. He wants the chemical smell.

He wants . . . to put his dick into something.

But first –

You’re pliable. Easy to move as he scoops your shorts off your ass – Oh, fucking Christ, there’s her entire backside, isn’t there? – over your thighs and he hurls the shorts over his shoulder. He inhales–

God, this pussy is going to kill me, he thinks or maybe says out loud before he tips forward into that black, fluttering hole. When he licks you, you both moan.

He remembers specifically doing planks for as long as he could to build up the upper body strength to languish here for hours.

Well, at the time, here wasn’t here here, but if everything before this was practice, then he was ready for the Olympics, dick as hard as a goddamn gold medal.

He swipes up with his tongue, licking and sucking and swirling like frosting was going out of style. Frosting, that’s it. That’s what you reminded him of. Fat, sweating, sweet frosting. And there was the cherry on top.

He guides your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as if to pull himself deeper into the wettest goddamn pool at the fucking YMCA. He sucks once and your hands fly into his hair. You’re making sounds that somewhat resemble his name, but they’re too high, too pitchy, too airless to be anything coherent.

He wants to tease you about all the boys you mentioned. Wants you to go back on your word, beg for him to believe that there was no one else before him. If there was, it didn’t matter because this is it. This is the best you’d ever have.

Even when you left him, you’d never forget –

Disgustingly, he slurps up one lip of yours into his mouth and you cry out, fingernails digging into his scalp so hard that it hurts and sends another rush of blood into his weeping cock. He mouths up before teasing your clit again – around it but never on it – before diving back down and lapping up your other lip.

“Dieter–,” you garble as if you know it’s filthy. He can hear your breathing tighten in your chest, feel your thighs clench around his ears, and he swears if he gets out of this with hair in tact, that’s the most he’s going to ask for –

And he french-kisses your clit.

You come, gasping, writhing, back arching off the mattress and he bares his forearm across your stomach, reaching up to pinch your nipple.

Settle down. We’re only just getting started.

He’s got to control himself but staring up at you, your face flushed with pleasure, he can’t quite remember what he’s supposed to do next.

You are naked underneath him. Naked and heaving and he licks the dampness staining his mattress just to have your taste in his mouth again. This is going to be a problem, if he can’t think straight without his mouth on you.

Oh my God, duh, fingers.

He pulls himself up the length of your body, and his hands sink into your hair. His fingers curl around your ear as he makes you look at him.

“How are you feeling?” It’s an echo of what he asked earlier. You’re still warm but your breathing has slowed. Your eyes are open, even if they’re fighting to stay open as if you are concussed.

“Good. Great.” You mutter, hand falling to his chest and tangling with his shirt.

“You wanna keep going?”

Your eyes open wider as if someone rang a dinner bell and you’d been walking on hands and knees, starving for weeks. You swallow thickly, nodding frantically, and the hand leaves his chest, winding down between you and, before he can stop you, slides under the material of his sweats and strokes him.

Your hands are like velvet.

Fuck, then what’s your cunt gonna feel like–

Do not fucking come right now.

“Oh, I see,” you huff, a smirk curling your mouth up, as if you had won some unnamed battle. You roll your shoulder to go aaall the way down his cock and stroke him. You think about licking your hand, but the precum leaking out of the tip of his head at a truly flattering rate is enough lubricant to keep your hand from sticking. “I can’t walk around without a bra on, but you can walk around in these thin fucking sweatpants and no underwear.”

He grits his teeth, dropping his head to his chest, trying to breath through the freightcar rattling down his spine.

“It’s my house, you little cocktease,” he pants, gasping as you run your thumb against the vein underneath his shaft. You pump him again and again and he groans low, with his eyes shut to keep them from rolling back in his head. “I can– yeah, right there – do whatever I want. Move your hand. I want to stick my fingers in you.”

His words aren’t so crass they make your ears red, but it’s the unrestrained need in his voice. You slowly withdraw your hands and you go wipe the threads of him on the mattress as he sits up to take his shirt off.

“Don’t. Just– gimme a second.”

He yanks the tank shirt over his head, setting down in between your legs again and blinking like he’d forgotten where he was. He takes your hand, licks your palm as clean as something as dirty as this could ever get, and then penetrates your hole with his middle finger. His tongue slides in the crevice between your ring finger and your pinkie and when he adds a second finger below, you both can feel the moment your brain is wiped blank and your body twitches along with it.

“Mhmm, good.” He pulls you down closer to him, fingers plucking your strings like the finest guitar. Your knees are spread wider than when he had half his body down there. He’s watching you practically drown his hand in the wetness seeping out, his other hand holding or balancing your knee.

He hovers above you, watching you roll and writhe and beg. His forearm is strained, his hand must be soaking, and he thinks your face contorted in pleasure might be permanently burned into his brain. There is still some part of him that knows that’s wrong. He shouldn’t have the faintest idea of what you looked like, high and blissed out of your mind, while his fingers stroke and dig and pluck and rub to drag you higher and higher –

The pad of his middle finger brushes something spongy and you nearly slam your legs shut over his arm, if it weren’t for his free hand pinning you open.

“Dee,” you croak, head shaking, “that was – you can’t–,”

His eyes flutter at the sound of your voice so wrecked. He needs to memorize that exact spot, save it for when you don’t have enough sanity left to push back. It’s scary, he knows, but you must be out of your goddamn mind if you thought he was going to let anything bad happen to you.

“Look at my thumb. Baby, look down.”

You wrench your eyes open, past your quivering chest, down his long forearm, down to where the black bullseye on the meat of the space between his thumb and palm is winking at you.

He’s stroking you with his thumb on your clit and the bullseye winking up at you. It’s eye-fucking you and that’s enough to break you. He wants to drink whatever drips out of you as your body locks up, head thrown back, and you come. You break through and his hand curls around your knee, gently, as he watches your body crescendo for the second time that night. He sucks his fingers, almost pensively, as if he is going to carve something out of you. Remake you. Split apart your atoms and rebuild you whole. Sex as an act of re-creation.

He kneels his way out of his pants, cock pounding red, leaking, the hot center of where his want for you is infecting him like a sickness.

Slowly, he drags one of your knees over his shoulder, half of your body hovering just above the mattress.

He wants to ask if you need it rough or slow. He can’t be gentle right now but he does have enough awareness to keep from hurting you. But maybe you, like him, like a little bit of pain.

He wants you on top, wants to see you sing for him, but he knows your legs are jelly. He knows there’s a white static hum in your brain and he’s so grateful for the pleasure of it.

He rubs the top of your thigh and noses the back of your ankle up by his ear.

“Do you want me to put a condom on?” he asks quietly, before kissing that spot below your ankle.

“Are you clean?” He’s so fucking broad and his rings pinch your skin when he pushes too hard and he’s asking for your comfort. You also want to feel every inch of his cock and you beg him to say yes.

He nods, suddenly irrationally thankful of Paul’s monthly mandated screenings. You get the clap once, and your fucking manager never lets you forget it.

You huff, realizing you’re so close your cunt can almost taste it. “I-I’m on the pill. A-a-and I’m clean too.”

As if he had ever denied you anything, as if his willpower hadn’t barely lasted four hours, you tense at the anticipation of his cock.

He’s just as warm, just as ready, so he grabs your other ankle and draws it next to your other one against the back of his neck. He sinks back just a bit on his ankles, fingers spreading you and grabbing himself and then–

It’s like getting the wind knocked out of you and getting sprayed with a hose of fire all at once.

“JesusfuckingChrist, you’re tight.”

He edges deeper as he sits up right, going slow not because he hadn’t unwound you properly but because if he went any faster, he’d obsess over the idea of getting rug burns on his dick.

“Dieter, oh God–,”

Hands leaving your ankles to wrap around your thighs, he rocks his hips back and drags out his cock just as much as the both of you can handle before thrusting forward. Again.

Again. He can’t seem to fill you enough. He wants to be bigger, thicker, girthier, if only to plug you up more.

But, fuck, your cunt is better than your hands but only because it’s so warm and wet and throbbing and he swears his heartbeat is in his ears.

He thrusts almost lazily, dipping his head to kiss your shin before dropping it back, your toes brushing his hair. His hands greedily squeeze your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles.

It’s like he has to recover from the shock and sensation of fucking you. It’s too good. It’s too much.

He’s inside of you.

If there’s a relief fund for grilled cheese, he’s going to have to donate every red cent he’s ever owned.

Your hands clench the sheets, mouth open and, yes, beautiful tits bouncing with every thrust. It’s not them hovering above him, begging to be bitten, but it’s close and he smooths his hand down from your thigh over his chest, down your hip and he kneads your breast.

“Oh, fuck, Dee, fuck . . . you feel so fucking good.”

I want to die in this cunt.

“So good, baby.”

It’s back, that pressure that connects the backs of his eyes, to the back of his gut, all the way to his pussy-soaked cock. This time he lets it build, lets it dangle out of reach, and his thrusts become faster, hurried. You jerk beneath him and let out a full whine as if he had spanked you.

He fucks you some more this way, just to feel that tightening in his gut, before he pulls your legs off his shoulders and you whine again, this time out of annoyance.

He has the where-with-all to smirk.

“What, baby doesn’t like it when I take away her toys?” He pants, almost feeling light-headed. You scowl at him but don’t push back in the least as he turns you onto your hands and knees.

“It was just starting to feel good, you a-ahh–ss–,”

He jerks his hips into you without warning, fully seating you on his cock and your head drops between your shoulders.

“If you weren’t such a brat, you’d be kind of cute,” he murmurs as he rubs his thumb over the knots in your spine, the sensation of your cunt sucking him in almost detaching him from this plane of existence. He knows you like to be teased, with his words, with his fingers, his mouth. He wants to give you everything – anything – he’s so pussy-obsessed he can feel it like ozone in his mouth.

He never wants to stop fucking you. He’s being unstable about it.

“You like that I’m a brat,” you say and push back with your hips. The sensation does make him stutter and you take it as a win. His rings sting as they squeeze your hips.

He’s sliding down that pressure, winding himself up so tightly in it he wants to stop breathing –

He starts pumping faster. The sounds that echo in that room are like music to his ears.

The sheets ruffling as your hands clench around them. The jolt of the bed as it lurches back and forth.

Your moans as he fucks every thought out of your head. “Fuck, you’re so big. It’s not fair.”

The wet slap of his thighs meeting yours.

And it all narrows down, the universe closing to a single focal point– all of it runs right to his cock rubbing up inside your cunt like it owns the place.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groan, head down. “Please – please fuck me harder, Uncle Dieter.”

With a growl that surprised even him, he drops forward, one hand anchoring himself to your hip and the other coming up around your throat. You gasp as his fingers dig painfully into your skin. He pulls you both up right, nose in your ear and teeth tight in his jaw.

He punctuates every word with a particularly brutal thrust that gnaws at something truly devastating inside you.

“Don’t – fucking – call me that – while – I’m inside – you–,”

You turn your head, flush with his and the hand that’s on your throat slides up to your cheek and he holds you there, pins you there as his cock pounds the daylights out of you.

“Say my name.” He husks. There’s something cataclysmic happening inside your cunt and he has the launch codes.

You can’t remember feeling so full before. So up your eyes and your mouth and your ears and your heart – God, maybe there really hadn’t been anyone before him.

“Oh, fuck, Dieter,”

“No, honey, my real name.”

Your eyes flicker open and something in his chest roars. He’ll kiss you after this. He’ll kiss you so hard you end up on another fucking planet.

“David.”

The sweat on his temples mixes with yours and he wants to smear himself in your fluids. This close, his beard and mustache rub roughly against your skin and you wonder how long the burn will last after all this. You’re clenching his arm, clenching his lower back to you, you think you’ll make him bleed in half-moon cuts of blood.

“All of it. All of it, baby girl,” he whispers to your cheek, your jaw. “Say it. I need to hear it. I need to hear it from you.”

Your fucked-out mind spins, clutching at the memories of the past, to a name you hadn’t heard in a decade, while the man you’ve known all your life threatens to undo your sanity. You lock eyes with him, the precipice of something so large and looming, you can’t wait to be crushed by it.

“Davíd Moralés.”

And that bastard’s cock intentionally pushes against that spongy spot and you shriek. Honest to God, yell, as you come, with Dieter wrapped up against your back, sweat streaking both of you.

“Get down,” he hisses suddenly and almost throws you off him. You land on your back, your entire body pulsing as one single organism, and he grabs his cock in time to aim it at your chest.

He comes, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, as he sprays you with white ropes. It’s warm on your tits and you shudder through your aftershocks. You feel like you’re sinking into warmth as he keeps coming, your inner thighs drenched and dripping, and finally, he leans away and collapses on the bed next to you.

There’s ringing in your ears.

You feel swollen all over, your nerve centers humming and firing and crackling as though someone whapped you over the head with a 500 volt electric baton. You want to keep sinking, keep drifting, keep existing in this warm, non-corporeal form. Everything feels so good here.

You had no idea you, or anyone else for that matter, could come that hard.

“Holy shit.”

You can’t help but grin through the short huffs of breath you swallow down in gasps.

You want to sass him but it feels a bit like spitting in the face of God. “Yeah. Holy shit.”

He sits up on his elbows, glancing over his side at you, the begrudgingly fantastic cock between his legs as deflated as you are.

“Are you okay? Fuck, sorry, I got a little crazy there at the end.”

You shake your fist loosely, with your thumb and pinky finger extended. “I don’t hear customer service calling. In fact, I think the line has been permanently disconnected.”

You both laugh softly and his eyes roam over your face. This is why he only saw vampy women. It was easier to wake up to something almost over-the-top hot, than this. Than you, with your beautifully flushed cheeks, plump lips, and eyes that searched only for him.

His gut twisted painfully. Okay, you nutted so hard you’re pretty sure your dick isn’t going to work for a week, now wake up. Wake up and smell the fucking arrest warrant.

Uncle Dieter. You're his niece.

What the fuck were you thinking? Where could this possibly go?

Instead of inspecting the small-starting-to-grow painful throbbing in his chest, he sits up and pleasantly inspects the mess you both made all over you. You follow his gaze, smirking as he intentionally smears his cum over your skin with his thumb.

“Oh, and that thing you did at the end, where you made me–,”

“Yeah?” He grinned wickedly, almost begging you to use your words, but you had been so good for him. He’d save that for later. “You liked that?”

“At the risk of sounding desperate, yes. A thousand times yes. But totally unfair and totally cheating.”

He snickers and leans down to your thighs. “Yeah, okay, Ms. I’m Not Wearing a Bra.”

The smell of you is intoxicating and it’s drenching your thighs, the sheets below you. Maybe he could strip the bed before Maria came – oh, fuck, what if it’s in the mattress?

He hauls those thoughts out of his mind, his dick twitching uncomfortably, as he bends forward and licks the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my God, Dee, you can’t possibly be –,”

“Relax. I’m not. Just wanted to clean you up.”

He licks the drying liquid from your skin – you hiss, so very overstimulated – dragging his tongue up, never breaking eye contact with you as he slinks up your body, shoulders rolling – “Dee, wait, you’re gonna–,” and licks the cum off your chest. His own cum.

“Oh, fuck, that’s nasty,” you murmur, eyes transfixed on his mouth as he swallows. He chuckles, finally deciding you’ve had enough for one night, and he leans forward and presses his lips on your temple.

“I’m not ready, but it sounds like you might be.”

He reaches back to the floor where his shirt was so casually discarded. He gingerly wipes your thighs, your hips, your stomach and chest. There’d be time for a proper wash later, but right now he thinks he’s going to pitch forward into unconsciousness in less than thirty seconds. His limbs are heavy, his eyelids are heavy but he can’t stop smiling.

You grin at him as he tosses the very used shirt back onto the ground and gets up from the bed to disappear into the bathroom. You roll onto your side, after unpeeling the bedsheets like you had done it a thousand times. When he comes back, you rub your face against his pillows and he realizes if he’s going to hoard the sheets, then he’s going to have to do the same to the pillowcase.

“I’m not gonna wake up and find you mouthing that shirt, am I?” You ask, a smirk already cradling your lips. He huffs at you as he hands you a glass of water. You take it, gratefully, only vaguely aware that he probably did that kind of thing all the time with his other conquests.

That thought threatens to sour your good mood so you put the glass back onto the bedside table and curl deeper into the sheets.

He climbs in behind you, and rubs his nose over your shoulder and up into your ear, his hand spread across your hip.

“Only if I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t mouth your tits.”

He’s purposefully being sexy, being teasing, but there’s a question there. A request. A quiet ask that for all his thick dick swinging, doesn’t have the cojones to verbalize.

You smirk at him and roll back slightly to catch his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and squeeze once.

“Baby, I couldn’t stand up right if I fucking tried.”

He grins, eyes warm. “Wow. Even if you fucking tried?”

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Even if I fuck-in’ tried.”

But despite all his not-at-all begging, he wakes up alone.

He wakes up in broad daylight – the storm had passed. Too bright light streams in from between the gray curtains, illuminating the one thing he never wanted to see: your side of the bed empty.

His heart clenches so fast he thinks he might be sick. There’s real nausea as he stumbles to his feet and pulls his pants on from last night. He’s about to rush down the stairs, frantically flipping over everything in hopes of finding a note, even if it told him to fuck off.

You’re twenty years older than me, you fucking creep.

Just wait until my dad hears about this.

I never want to see you again.

Just as his mouth dries up till his lips crack, he sees something on the other side of the bed that makes him freeze in his tracks. It’s your phone, plugged into the wall. He goes over and taps the screen. The battery has only 15%.

And then a post-storm breeze rattles the patio door handle and it opens slightly. He sees your barefoot through the cut in the door frame.

Holy fuck, you’re still here, just outside.

Heart now jettisoning into his throat, he opens the door to a truly spectacular morning. His patio looks down to the freshly-washed Los Angeles, the sky a cobalt blue, the air cool and faintly smelling of rain. People run and lead their dogs through the streets and for a minute he thinks he can hear the ocean.

But what makes it truly spectacular is you. Curled up at the small table in one of his white shirts and those sanctimonious shorts. You’ve got a cup of coffee in your hand and you’ve got his favorite book, Eco’s The Name of the Rose, lying flat beneath your fingertips. But you aren’t reading. You’re looking at him.

“Well, hi there. Did you dream you missed a flight?”

He blinks. “What?”

“You just, sort of, rushed out here, looking like you forgot something.” You frown. “Is everything okay?”

He swallows and it’s all he can do to keep from dropping to his knees and pressing his face into your lap.

“Yeah, fine, fine. All good. Fine.”

You turn back to the book, staring at it as if it was giving you a pep talk. Then you shut it and turn back to him.

“So, um, last night . . .”

Here it comes. I regret it, all of it. You drugged me and took advantage of me. I can’t believe that you would–

“Was great.”

He swears he hears his blood rushing in his ears. You smile at him, but clearly uneasy. As if you are the one second-guessing it all.

Fuck, Bravo, put on your big boy pants.

He pulls out the other patio chair and sits down next to you. He clasps his hands, leaning forward on his elbows. His rings clink together. He nods, trying to catch your eyes.

“Yeah. It was fucking fantastic. I mean it. One for the books.”

He waits for you to say but.

You wait for him to say but.

Neither of you do. You grin and put your coffee on the table.

“So, in the events of last night . . . surprisingly, I forgot to charge my phone.”

He doesn’t want to touch you because he thinks it might spook you so he runs his gaze over your lovely knuckles, your wrist.

“Sounds like, then, you might need to stay awhile.”

You swallow, unable to contain the growing smile on your face. You duck your head and he follows you and your breath fans his face.

“Guess so.”

If he tells it, he says he kissed you.

If you tell it, you say you kissed him.

Doesn’t matter though. Doesn’t matter that the coffee grows cold and he ignites something in you that you didn’t know existed.

When he finally pulls away, he’s still smiling.

“This might be a bit weird, but . . . wanna see my other kitchen?”

The End

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #f!reader #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfic

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ninapi · 6 months

Text

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ First Born❜ (Halloween Special)┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Being an older brother once more was beyond exhilarating for Choso, he never expected though to find love by his little brother's side, his pretty and kind childhood friend bringing a softness into his life he didn't know it was possible one Halloween night.

Word Count: 3243

Note: this is a Semi AU, meaning the characters are who they are in the series, yet the timeline doesn’t match the original story.

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Choso has been a big brother since he can remember, that’s his number one trait and the one he is more proud of in general.

Therefore, loosing his two younger brothers continues to sting to this day.

Gaining a ‘new brother’ or finding a ‘lost brother’ which ever you wanna call it, gave him a new sense of purpose, a new reason to live and continue growing as a person.

His number one flaw though, was how unemotional he was.

To Yuuji, Choso was embarrassing.

He never gets the jokes, more like he can’t even laugh on his own like if his face muscles were forever stiff, a spoon could get social cues better than him; he says the most embarrassing things at the worst timing too and this brings us to this moment.

Yuuji had been flirting with the girl that worked a part time at the donut shop close by for about a month. He would always stop by and buy even if it was just one donut to munch on his way to school just so he could see her smile for a couple of minutes; he even went as far as to ask for her number last time he was there; though today, Choso tagged along and was currently glaring at said beauty for getting ‘too close’ to his brother. “What is it that you want woman? I won’t let you get your smitten paws over my little brother, you hear me? You won’t ever understand how precious he is, must be protected at all cost.”

“Oh my god…just what do you think you’re doing?? Ruining my life?? Didn’t I tell you to stay outside with Fushiguro??”

“Itadori-kun, I think your brother is right, I don’t think I can handle such a precious boy….” the girl couldn’t hold her laugh any longer, same thing as her co-workers who witnessed the scene.

“That’s it. I’m never taking you out again. Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get her to even look at me??” Yuuji was so disheartened, he opted to sit down on the sidewalk, contemplating the meaning of life while hating on his new older brother.

“I…I was just trying to-“

“I know, I know…just trying to be a good older brother…But have you stopped for a second and think that maybe not everyone wants to hurt me? I’m strong enough to defend myself, a pretty little thing like her wouldn’t even dream of hurting anything but my heart…” he sniffs dramatically, burying his face on his hands.

“You can die immediately if someone hurts your heart, idiot…”

This was the last drop of patience within him, “NOT literally, OK? I don’t mean my internal organ, I mean the feelings side of the heart!!”

“That’s not in your heart but your brain. You can also die if someone hurts you there-“

“Just stop talking!!!” Megumi and Nobara were both laughing their asses off at their banter, truth is Nobara saw the girl flirt with at least four different guys in just a week, she had been trying to warn her friend about her, so it was actually a good thing having dense Choso around to break the spell she had on him; that didn’t make it any less funny though.

“Itadori don’t be so hard on him, he’s pouting again.”

“I am not doing such thing-“

“Yes you are, man…” Megumi let out a deep sigh, walking on the opposite direction wanting nothing to do with the loud display of idiocy in front of him.

“Hey Fushiguro! Where are you going? We still need to discuss our plans for the party!” Yuuji yelled after him a little too loud, causing Megumi to flinch and return just to shut him up. “There’s nothing to discuss…Just be there around 9PM, you have to wear a costume or they won’t let you in, those are the rules.”

“Did you choose one already? I never pegged you for someone who’d like halloween parties~” giggling, Nobara elbowed Yuuji on the ribs wanting him to team up with her to tease their friend.

“I bet he’ll wear something ridiculous, like one of those giant carrot costumes.” bursting out laughing, both held each other from collapsing on the ground imagining carrotgumi.

“For your information, I will go as a vampire…I found dubious objects in a closet in Gojo-sensei’s, I mean back in the house…so I brought them with me for this party. Not like I want to go or anything but Maki-san threaten to shave my head in my sleep if I didn’t go…”

“Bald carrotgumi….” after one more outburst of intense laughter, the team bullying ended for the best. “I need a costume, would you go buy one with me, Kugisaki?”

All this time Choso has been quietly observing the entire thing. He knows his brother literally just said he wouldn’t take him out with him ever again, but he really wanted to prove him he could do better, that he wasn’t an embarrassment and that he was the best older brother there was to have, this was his chance. “Guys…do you think…do you think I can come with you…?”

“No, never, non, forget about it.”

“B-but…”

“Listen, you just ruined my life! How do you even think I would take you with me again?”

“Poor guy, just let him come, Itadori…he always brings the funniest of conversations out. I like him.” Choso perked up a little at the support he was getting, even if he knew all she wanted was to mock his brother, at least someone wanted him there.

“Oh c’mon….What if he ruins it again?”

“Just leave (Y/N) in baby sitting duty. She likes lost causes…” shrugging she started making her way to the costume shop, both of them tagging along.

“(Y/N)? I mean yes she does take recycling to an intense level and saves stray cats, but this is…this is something else, Kugisaki…” Choso’s lip was quivering once more, not wanting to face rejection for a third time on the same day by the person he wishes to please the most.

“Ok then how about we do this…” leaning close to Yuuji’s ear she whispers her plan with the most mischievous grin anyone has ever seen in their lives. To this Yuuji laughs for what feels like hours, having to stop in his tracks to wipe his tears away and calm down. “Ok, ok let’s ask him…” going over to his older brother, Yuuji bats his eyelashes prettily up at him, “Nii-chan…you can go…if you go dressed as the carrot Fushiguro isn’t wearing…”

Choso just nodded eagerly, not fully understanding what he was getting himself into.

“Also, I won’t let you follow me around, I wanna get a girl in my bed by tonight, and you can’t stop me. I’ll ask my best friend to look after you. Understood?” this definitely wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted bonding time with his brother, have a nice time, maybe drink one of those beers he introduced him to the other day, not having to stay behind away from the fun dressed as a commonly disliked vegetable…but it was the chance he was looking for to prove he could behave.

“Is that a yes? Or-?”

“Yes, I will go.” Nobara was on her phone browsing for carrot costumes, not long after running on her way to the shop.

This would be a long night..

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

The night was young, every known sorcerer and their friends and family were invited to this party.

Yuuji chose to dress as werewolf, while Nobara went dressed as a sexy nurse.

Choso though…let’s just say the carrot outfit didn’t suit him that well…

Wanting to get rid of him as soon as possible, Yuuji stopped you right at the entrance with a big grin plastered on his face. “(Y/N) my darling! My bestie! The light that shines above us…!”

“What do you want now-“ he was being too obvious, he only acts this way when he wants either money or nasty favors.

“Have you met my brother yet?”

“Your what-? I’ve lived next door my entire life and I’ve never seen a brother of yours-“ covering your mouth almost instantly, he glared at you, trying to get you to play along.

“O-oh…yes your brother! You told me about him the other day. No, I haven’t had the pleasure to meet him yet!” smiling on his direction, you walked over to him, taking both of his hands in yours.

“Hi! I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to finally meet you! By the way, what an adorable outfit you brought today! I wish I knew about them before, then we could have been two carrots instead of just one!” giggling at how good you were handling his worst nightmare, Yuuji sneaks away without you noticing; thing is, not only did you not notice, but neither did Choso, and that had never happen before.

“They also had tomatoes and an eggplant, but that one was too little, it would probably fit you though.” He nodded in thought, unable to figure out why the thought of you dressed like a tiny eggplant sounded so appealing. Was this why his brother wanted him to be a carrot? Did he actually look cute?

“I would have loved to be an eggplant! We could take a bunch of pictures, probably even win the costume contest!” your soft laughter brought a smile to his face, he’s never been treated this nicely before.

“What are you supposed to be though?” he eyed you from head to toe, making you blush. “I’m Godzilla~” you posed, letting out a cute little roar, his heart skipped a beat, cuteness has never been his thing but he could see the appeal of it now.

“I apologize, I do not know what that is, but it’s certainly cuter than an eggplant. They don’t make sounds...” his comment made you giggle giddily, why did Yuuji dislike him this much? He’s such a sweetheart…

“Hmm Godzilla is…a monster…he destroys cities and kicks buildings.” you tried your best to imitate it properly, earning a smile from him once more, making you feel accomplished.

“So like a curse? I’m half curse-” he looked at you with his eyes wide opened in realization.

“Nah, more like a cute big animal lost in a city full of ants.” he nods at this, before pointing to a table by the door. “They had animal shaped cookies in a bowl over there.” he didn’t know why but he felt the need to make you smile some more, to make you feel comfortable in his presence unlike the rest of his brother’s friends and seemed like you liked animals enough to dress like one.

“Do they? I bet they’re adorable. Would you like to eat some with me?” the way your eyes twinkled at this little piece of information made his stomach feel hollow, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, he kind of wanted to feel more of this, so he went over the table and poked all the cookies from the bowl until he was sure he’s gotten at least one of every single animal available in it.

Megumi, who was sitting at the top of the stairs hiding from a drunk panda who was trying to get him to kiss his cousin, saw the entire scene unfold, and decided to intervene before Itadori ruined his moment if he caught him. “Choso…stop touching all the food just grab a handful she’ll like it anyways, trust me.” to his advice he nodded gratefully, making sure to grab some drinks as well.

“Here, I couldn’t find the elephant, I was sure I saw one when I went by that table earlier, apologies for not getting you the complete set. I got you some melon soda though, I hope you like it.” the back of his neck felt hot, he continued wondering why he wanted to please you this bad, is not like you were his little sister, not like he wanted you to be his sister- he wouldn’t be able to last a day before dying of cuteness overload.

“Don’t worry! I’m sure Mr.elephant found a nice home in someone else’s belly.” chuckling you grabbed a little bear cookie and pressed it to his lips, “Try it! It’s yumyum~” you danced happily at the taste, wanting to share the joy a good high quality cookie can bring to someone’s life.

To this he just gave out a short nod, getting the entire cookie into his mouth. This was all so new to him, was this why his brother kept insisting in taking a girl to his bed?

What would they even do there?

He would like to take you to his and eat elephant shaped cookies, maybe even talk a little, or watch a movie, he’s been really into them since his brother introduced him to horror films.

“Hey (Y/N) would you like to go to my room? It’s a bit far but we could walk there-“ before he could continue his sentence, a shoe came flying straight to his face, Megumi coming to pull him to the side, “I’m borrowing him for just a second (L/N), be right back.”

He took Choso outside, away from prying eyes, a deep scowl on his face, “What on earth are you doing? You spend too much time with Itadori, he’s rubbing on you…”

“I thought you’re supposed to take nice girls to your bed…”

“I..ugh..WhAT? Who told you that? Never mind don’t answer…” letting out a long sigh he plops down on a bench prompting Choso to the same. “Look, man…it is true I guess, though the order is wrong. Remember how your brother talked to the same girl for months just to get her to like him?” nodding his head he was taking mental notes, Megumi rarely took his time to teach him anything, this must not go to waste.

“When you think a girl is nice or cute, pretty even. When she’s nice to you as well and you feel like you want more of her…” his nodding intensified, it was as if he was reading his mind, describing just how he was feeling that same moment.

“You have to treat her right, make nice things for her, be patient, don’t do anything impulsive. Girls are more delicate, you can’t be rough with them. Got it?”

“I knew it. I should have looked for that elephant cookie some more…”

A rare smile appeared on Megumi’s face, Choso has been nothing but a pain to them when it doesn’t come to fighting, but he’s never seen this soft side of him, or maybe he had, just that Itadori always shuts him down unlike you.

“Yeah well, maybe next time you can buy her a bag, I’m sure the elephant will be there.” his eyes opened widely, he hadn’t thought about that, fantastic idea.

“You’re a great guy, Fushiguro, I appreciate your advise. I can be your older brother too, if you ever need one...” with a small smile on his face, Megumi walked away back to his room, he'd have enough of this party already.

“Go back to her, before someone steals her away~” running back inside, his heart came back to his body when he saw you patiently waiting for him inside, fidgeting with your fingers.

“I have returned. Fushiguro just told me we can find the elephant cookie if I get you a new pack of cookies. Would you like to go buy one with me?”

“Right now?” that smile of yours will end up causing him heart failure, he was sure of that now.

“Or later, when you have time, if you want that is…we can also go back for the eggplant dress, if you’re tired of being Godzilla.” It was pretty obvious to you by now that he was trying to get you out of this party, you weren’t what others would call a 'party animal’, you only went because your best friend called you over; the same best friend who’s been flirting with every single girl in the room and has not addressed you for the longest time.

“I think they sell them in the supermarket down the street, lets go~!” pulling him by his hand, you both walked in silence as none of you knew what to say.

“So, how is Yuuji as a younger brother? If he’s mean to you tell me, I will kick his ass…” you knew your bestie, he could be really sweet as much as he can be a real ass when he wants to be.

“He’s great. I wish we could get along better though…but it’s hard to know what he wants. I wished everyone would be happy with animal cookies…”

“I think it’s easy getting along with you though. You’re sweet and gentle, funny too.” Choso has never been complimented before, not like this at least…was this what his brother called ‘flirting’?

“I…well I think you are all those things too…nobody has ever treated me this nice before…” his comment managed to sadden you more than anything, stopping you on your tracks to place a hand on his cheek gently.

“Then how about we see each other some more? I need you to see how special you are.” your smile was so bright, so comforting…his chest ached but in a pleasant way, he kind of wanted to rip his own heart out just to see the chemical reaction occurring within his body in this very second, his blood even felt more powerful, he could kill Gojo Satoru right now, he was sure of it. But all he wanted was to count cookies with you while looking at the night sky.

“Can we? See each other again? I mean after the cookies...?”

“Of course! Lets do all sorts of things together! Have you ever been to a theme park? Maybe I can get the eggplant costume and we could both go dressed as vegetables, that’d be fun!” your arm wrapped around his as you walked towards the supermarket.

“I’ve never been to one, no.”

“Then we totally have to go! We could play some video games too! Oh and we definitely need to go to that new crepe place down town, I heard you need a reservation and all!”

“Why do you want to go with me to all those places?” he was honestly confused, he’s been facing so much rejection that this fuzzy feeling in his chest was starting to cause some concern.

“That’s what friends do, right? Besides, I think you’re really cute…maybe…we could…you know…one of those days we go out…only if you’d like of course…we could maybe say it’s a date?” you smiled nervously up at him, he’s never seen such beauty in his entire life, not even the drawing his little brother made for him when they were little was this pretty. “I would like that very much…”

Being the first born of four brothers had its benefits as much as it has its flaws, but tonight he was sure of one thing, he was glad of getting in his little brothers nerves enough to get him to dump him with the cutest girl his eyes had ever lay on.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Masterlist

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runninriot · 2 months

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inspired by the prompt Love is being able to say you’re sorry and mean it by @eyesofshinigami for @steddielovemonth day 23

sorry, not sorry

wc: 1688 | rated: t | tags: Robin Buckley is fed up with her idiot friends, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are oblivious and they’re bad at feelings, Love Confessions, Idiots to Lovers

„Why should I say sorry when he is the one acting weird. I didn’t do anything! It’s not my fault he doesn’t like me.” Steve looks at her, lips forming a bitchy pout, acting annoyed at her for bringing it up – like he really believes his own words and Robin is the one who just doesn’t get it.

Robin rolls her eyes.

God, she wants to strangle him sometimes. And Eddie, too. They are both so stupid, acting like they don’t like each other when everyone and their mother can see the longing looks they throw at each other whenever they are in the same room.

It’s been driving her mad.

They’ve been dancing around each other for weeks now, putting up fronts, acting like they just barely tolerate each other’s presence. Like they are forced to get along because of their mutual friends.

It’s bullshit. Sure, these two would’ve never met if it wasn’t for the little shitheads they both took under their wings (or maybe Dustin and his friends are actually the ones that took Eddie and Steve under theirs because the teens are clearly a lot more mature than these two idiots) but now that their worlds have collided, it’s so obvious that there is a connection between them neither wants to admit to.

“You could’ve at least asked him to come?”

“Robs, he didn’t even look at me when he came in earlier. What makes you think he wants to come to my place when he made it clear that he hates everything about the idea of spending time there?”

Steve is having a party on Saturday, invited everyone over, except for Eddie. Not because he purposely meant to exclude him but because Eddie’s been teasing him about it all week. Whenever Steve mentioned his plans, Eddie made a silly comment about how lame it sounds. ‘Bet the music will be all pop and no taste.’ – ‘Just beer? Come on, Harrington, grow up.’ – ‘Oh, a sleepover? Great! Are we gonna do pillow fights and face masks and all that fancy shit, too?’

Yeah, maybe Steve has a point. Eddie really didn’t make it seem like he wanted to be part of it. And it’s not really Steve’s fault for not understanding that Eddie is doing that out of self-protecting reasons. That he’d rather pretend to hate the idea of spending the night at Steve’s than having to live with the rejection of Steve not wanting him there in the first place. Steve is oblivious.

And obviously, Eddie is too.

And okay, Steve hasn’t exactly been showing Eddie that he cares for him either. Always pretends to be annoyed at him. Always bitching about the stupidest and most inane things like – ‘Yeah how about you grow up Mr Dungeon Master?! Aren’t you a little too old to keep playing games with teens?’ – ‘Jesus, Eddie, you know there’s a thing called hair brush one can use to tame that frizzy mop on your head?’ – ‘No thank you, I don’t want to be driving around in your van. That thing looks like it’s gonna fall apart any second.’

They’re constantly bickering and bantering, always so quick to be at each other’s throats. That is, until they think that no one is looking.

Because Steve actually loves to listen to Eddie talk when he’s leading the teens through a campaign, uses all these various voices to interpret the different characters he created.

And Robin just knows Steve’s finger itch to take care of Eddie’s unruly curls himself but he would never offer, would never say it out loud.

Robin can see the way Eddie’s gaze follows Steve around Family Video when he’s talking to her while Steve is attending to another customer – a sickly sweet smile on his lips, with eyes that are basically heart-shaped.

The way he blushes whenever Steve walks around shirtless and in his stupid, tiny shorts (ugh, men), tries and fails so hard every time not to stare with his mouth hanging open.

It’s like they’re both so desperately trying to convince themselves that they hate each other, when all of their stolen glances and hidden smiles keep giving them away.

“You know how stubborn he is. I am pretty sure he would’ve said yes. But you didn’t ask and maybe now he thinks you don’t want him there. Did you think about that?”

Steve worries his bottom lip, looks like he’s contemplating what to say.

“He hates me,” is all he offers and the sadness in his eyes breaks Robin’s heart.

“Talk to him, Eddie.”

“Pff, why should I? I’m not that desperate to attend some stupid party. What do you want me to say to him? Hey, sorry for making fun of you, could I maybe still get a pity invite so I don’t have to spend my Saturday alone and miserable while you’re all having a fun time? Yeah, no. Thanks.”

She’s gonna lose it with these two at some point. Robin has been trying. Beating around the bush, talking about that stupid party like it is the real problem just because neither Steve nor Eddie are ready to admit what it is really about.

“What if I want you there. You’re my friend and I want to spend time with you too.”

“I appreciate it, Bucks. I really do. And I love to hang out with you any time. But this is Steve’s party and if he doesn’t want me there, I have to accept it.”

She wants to shake him. Yell at him to drop the act and be fucking for real, just once.

“Edward Albert Munson.”

The use of his full name has the desired effect of getting his full attention, eyes blown wide and his expression a mix of appalled and impressed.

“Can you, for the love of anything that’s holy, stop pretending to be so above everything and just tell him already?!”

She knows it’s a little unfair to put that burden on Eddie when she could’ve told Steve the same. But she knows that between the two, Eddie will be easier to convince.

“What are you talking about?” Eddie tries, but the blush on his cheeks tells her he knows exactly what she means.

“You know what I’m talking about. I’m sick and tired of watching you guys pining for each other when you could’ve been making out for weeks now if you would just fucking talk.”

“What?!” This time, Eddie seems genuinely stunned.

“You two are perfect for each other. You’re both incredibly stupid and so far up your own asses, that you don’t see what you’re missing out on.”

She crosses her arms before her chest, suppresses the urge to smile triumphantly when she sees Eddie crumble as the realisation hits.

Steve is in the kitchen, preparing some snacks and drinks, when the doorbell rings. Everyone is already there, they’re all in the living room having a great time, so Steve thinks it might just be their pizza delivery.

“Robs, can you get that?”

There’s no answer. Either she doesn’t hear him over the music or, more likely, she ignores him. Steve huffs, drops the bag of chips on the counter and goes to open the door.

He’s fumbling with his wallet, not even looking at the person standing on the bottom of his front steps, when a familiar voice gets his attention.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Eddie? What are you-“

Steve’s heart suddenly picks up speed when his eyes drift to Eddie’s lips, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners.

“I wanted to apologize. I’ve been-“

“No problem, man! I gotta say sorry, too. I should’ve just invited you and stop making such a big deal out of it.”

“Not about- okay, yeah that too but- I’m sorry for being a dick. I’m sorry for- for not being honest with you. And I get that this not the best timing but a little bird told me to man up and-“

Steve’s mind is racing. He doesn’t have a clue where Eddie is going with this. Or maybe he does but he doesn’t want to hold up his hopes because surely, Eddie isn’t going to say what he wants him to.

“I’m not sorry for making you feel like I don’t like you because the truth is, I don’t.”

Steve looks down at his own feet, needs a moment to process, a moment to breathe.

Huh?

“It’s more like, I’m totally gone for you, Steve. I want you in ways that scare me. I’m sorry for making you think I’m not head over heels in love with you and your stupid perfect hair and your annoying kindness and just... everything about you that’s had me losing sleep for weeks now.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” he says when he looks back up, tries not to sound too excited because he feel like he deserves just a little revenge for the way Eddie phrased his earth shattering confession and nearly gave Steve a heart attack with it.

But then Eddie’s eyes fill with tears and there’s defeat written on his face and-

No, that’s not what Steve wants.

“I’m sorry for not doing this sooner.”

He surges forward, nearly misses a step when he flings himself at Eddie, wraps his arms around the other man’s neck and draws him into a kiss.

The kiss is desperate, full of regret for depriving himself of the wonderful feeling of Eddie’s plush lips on his. Dripping with want, spilling all the words he didn’t say, words he wants Eddie to know, to feel in every part of his body.

I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you.

They are too caught up in the moment; too busy making out to notice Robin standing in the doorway, who came looking for Steve. There’s a huge smile on her face and she knows she’ll regret it because they will be insufferable together. But right now, all she is sorry for is not stepping in sooner.

Because they might be idiots but they’re her idiots and they deserve to be in love.

#steddielovemonth #day 23 #love is...#steddie fic #idiots to lovers #steve harrington #eddie munson #matchmaker Robin Buckley

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2smolbeans · 3 months

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 2.5

About Marco In Love Me, Love Me Not! (Character info)

Yandere Bestfriend x Obstacle Reader

*Unedited

Disclaimer: I made changes to this since I changed a lot in the story while on my break, so things are a bit different.

........

So this is kind of a quick detour or filler chapter to discuss our main yandere (Marco!).

Something I want to make clear about Love Me, Love Me Not is that the story is an AU of an already existing yandere story for Marco's side!

In Marco's original timeline, he's the COO of a successful makeup branch . In Love Me Love Me Not!: Marco never met the CEO (his half brother) of Beauty Point - instead continued to pursue his career in the police force.

(Basically, he never became that rich delusional man who was impulsive, irrational, and delusional - instead a corrupt cop who was more calculative, nonchalant, and saw people as little sheeps who doted on him. Think of it to a 'I NEED THEM' to 'THEY NEED ME' personality switch.)

In this timeline, Marco met you in college after bumping into one of your friends during student orientation day. He couldn't care about what you had to say, but regardless, he feigned interest as he listened to you ramble about something he forgot about.

Leaning close to you, nodding, letting out cheerful. "Uh-huh- ohhhh, I see. Thanks! Man, same here! Y'know, that reminds me of the time-" basic NPC type of small talks.

But once he got a good look at your group, one from all had caught his interest.

Matheias, Angela, You, and Mila.

She hadn't spoke, she didn't even have to try- but she grabbed his attention. With her arms folded and a curious look on her face as she tagged along, not saying a word- it was love at first sight.

Soon enough, he found purpose with staying in that little group.

Though when she started to dwindle away from your friend group, Marco had felt obligated to stick with the rest. I mean, sure, he didn't care too much, but that didn't mean he didn't love you guys. So he made memories with you and found himself genuinely being invested with each and one of everyone's personalities.

For some reason, he noticed that you often sticked around him like a lost puppy. (Which is hilarious to me because Marco, in his og universe, was more of a golden retriever eagerly following around anyone who gave him attention, but oh how the tables turn)

He found it cute, so of course he paid more attention to you from the rest of the litter of nobodies. You could say that you were his favorite from the rest - but of course you could never take her place.

The two of you became close, the sleeping overnight - type of close.

There were some moments where you would catch him off guard, making him blush, flinch, or chuckle whenever you were yourself around him. He would never love you the way he loved her, but by god, would he go through hell to give you what you wanted. After all, he knew you would do the same.

Huh, I guess that's what best friends were for..

Though as things were going smoothly, Marco would notice how Angela became a bit annoying to him with each day. He never had a problem with her before, but the way she would swoon over Mila made him go cold.

He wasn't the type to overreact. He knew he wasn't the type to get upset so easily. It was once, he swears!

But one thing led to the next, and Angela had died to an unfortunate allergic reaction. Of course, Marco had slipped some peanuts into a snack he gave her, and no one suspected a thing. I mean, something like that must've been an unfortunate accident on her end. She ate something that had peanuts, she was alone at the park, and she didn't have her Epi-pen! It was a tragic accident.

Matheias had his suspicions that Marco had done something.. There was no evidence or reason to think this, but he had a gut feeling.

Fast forward, and you and Marco were the only remaining people in that friendgroup. After graduation, Marco and you were still on talking terms, Matheias had completely cut you off after Angela's funeral, and Mila was still talking with Marco - but not with you anymore.

More time passes, and on that very night, Marco calls you crying on the phone, begging you to meet him somewhere. Of course, worried, you rush over there only to see him smiling with a body bag over his shoulder.

Forced to comply as you knew you would be the next body bag for him to drag if you said no.

Why, though? Why specifically did he call you on that night if he knew he didn't want any witnesses?

That's something that would probably be revealed with time..Or not if he decides to end your life the very next day.

It was only once you thought. But soon enough, you found yourself complying with more of Marco's requests.

And of course, once you showed hesitance and stood your ground, Marco took that as a threat and made you into one of his own victims.

Come the present day, there were you trapped in his apartment, not knowing if he wanted you dead, or if he had other plans...

The thing that hurt the most for you was the fact that even when you knew he had feelings for someone else, you still liked him. Even now, you still have a bit of a crush on him...Talk about a painful rejection..

But that's the basis of this AU!

If you have any more questions about Marco in his 'Love Me, Love Me Not' Au, feel free to ask!

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompt #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere ocs #yandere ceo #yandere bestfriend #yandere best friend #yandere male #Marco Sangwook #Sangwook

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 1 year

Text

Lost in Paradise || Buddha

A/n: this is my first time writing for this character, so I hope he's not too OOC. I started watching ROR when the first season came out, so of course I was going to watch the second season. Then Buddha came on screen and immediately I was hooked. So, this OS is the product of that.

On another note, while I was writing this a story idea came to mind. I sort of want to toy more with the red cord aspect and have the reader come to the realm of the Gods and live with their significant other. It's a basic idea, but I like it.

Please pay attention to the warning tags and please enjoy it.

Warning(s): red cord/soulmate (via Yue-Lao), mentions/implications of death, fear of the unknown, make-outs, intense sex, fainting (via overstimulation), oral (m), female reader, 4,444 words.

No Minors Allowed!!

How did it come to this? Mankind's last stand against the Gods. The moment you heard about Ragnarok, a tournament pitting the Humans against the Gods, you knew mankind didn't stand a chance. For a soul, this also meant that you too would perish; it honestly is a shame.

Sitting in the stands in the area, you stare in dismay at a large screen that displays the matches. So far, no human can best the Gods. Two rounds in, things are looking grim for mankind. Things could honestly not get any worse in your opinion.

"Oh wow! You have a soulmate cord!" A voice beside you exclaims.

You raise a curious brow.

"Pardon me?"

What does he mean by cord? The man points down and upon looking, you notice a silken cord around your finger. When did this get there? Following it with your eyes, you see that it fades in and out through the crowd, heading up to the terrace at the top of the stadium.

"This is the first time I've ever seen it," you mention in confusion.

The man beside you hums.

"How strange. You aren't meant to see the cord. I was a scholar in my former life and I have to wonder if Yue-Lao put this on you."

Yue-Lao? Is this the name of a God?

"Who is Yue-Lao?" You ask.

"He's a God of marriage and love in Chinese mythology. He often appears as an old man under the moon and unites with a silken cord all predestined couples, after which nothing can prevent their union," the scholar answers.

There's no way.

"I don't understand. I never saw this until today and when my soul came here, I'm sure I didn't have it," you mention.

"Could it be that you are destined to be with a God," the man utters, almost as though he's speaking more to himself.

What sense did this make?

"The Gods want to end humanity. Why would I be a match for a God?" You ask.

The man beside you hums.

"It's probable but I have no idea why. Have you heard the story of Eros and Psyche?"

You have. But this is a different story. Something is strange about it. You shouldn't be able to see the cord. Perhaps it is a God you are tethered to. But now isn't the time to care.

There is no way you can focus on the round, however. Curiosity is eating you alive. You take a deep breath and stand, walking toward the stairs. It's a terrible idea but you want to know who you are connected to and why. You pass humans and gods alike on your way down the terrace. The cord leads you to a gorgeous garden room with glass panels; one with an enormous fountain. You stare at it in awe for a moment until the cord tightens with a snap. A moment later the soft sound of footsteps echoes around the room.

Unsure of what to do, you dart behind a marble column as the footsteps grow louder, soon coming to a stop. Your heart pounds in your chest as an air of nervousness surrounds you. Slowly you peek around the marble column and see a muscular man standing near the fountain. His back is to you but you can see that he is wearing a tank top with robes tied around his waist, wrapping back to his hands. Who is this man? The cord seems to connect to him as it does you, so you know he is bonded to you, but he doesn't look familiar at all. The clothes he is wearing are akin to the ones seen in South Asia, but that is all you can tell.

For a moment you stare at him, until to your horror, he peeks over his shoulder in your direction. You dart behind the column and stand there, hoping that he didn't see you. Once a minute passes, you peek back around to see that he is gone. A sigh of relief pours from your mouth, but strangely the cord is still tight; it seems to wrap around the column to the other side. You raise a curious brow, turning to notice that the god in question is leaning his arm against the column staring at you with curious blue eyes hidden behind rectangle-shaped glasses. His hair, which you had thought before was blond is light green; the sides are black.

"Hmm. I thought someone was staring at me," he utters as he removes a light blue lollipop from his mouth.

Your face heats up in embarrassment and you avert your eyes to the cute bunny with the eyepatch printed on his tank top.

"I'm sorry. I just... was looking for someone."

To emphasize your point, not sure what sort of god he is, you raise your hand showing him the red cord. It takes him a moment to understand but once he does he snorts and raises his hand.

"Look at that." He pauses to toy with the cord. "The old man has a sense of humor."

Who is he referring to? Yue-Lao? You've never met the Chinese Love God; you have no idea what he's like or why he'd tether you to someone let alone another God.

If this was his idea of a joke, it wasn't funny.

"Do you know how to remove these? Or where Yue-Lao is? Perhaps he can remove them."

"You want to have them removed?" The God asks.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously and nod in agreement to his question.

"Do you not?"

"Hmm. I mean... We don't know one another. And unless the old man did this as a joke, we're tethered for a reason," he replies.

He wants to know you. Is he serious?

"I'm a human," you state in an obvious tone.

"I hadn't noticed," the god retorts with a grin.

He has a sense of humor. At least he isn't like some gods you have read about. You hum in thought, staring at the cord.

"I reckon we should find Yue-Lao and see about these before Ragnarok is over."

The God tossed up his hands in defense.

"Yes, boss."

Fearing that you might have insulted him, you frown.

"I'm sorry. I just... Don't know what else to do. I never asked for your name and that's rude of me."

The man in question knits his brows.

"You don't know me? I'm Buddha."

Your eyes widen.

"T-there's no way."

"Pretty sure I am," Buddha utters with a hum.

You shake your head.

"That's not it."

This has to be a joke. You've always compared the gods to celebrities; there are A-listers and B-listers; the major gods and the minors.

"You're an A-lister," you utter.

Why are you tethered to an A-lister? Let alone a God. You're not even someone important. Or at least you don't feel like you are.

A hand on your shoulder brings you into reality, sending a pleasant warmth throughout your body. You've never felt such an intense sensation. Is it because of Buddha? Or the bond you have with me? Your tense shoulders relax and you turn your attention to him.

"You have a name, don't you?" The God asks.

You nod and utter it.

Buddha grins in response; his sharp canines make your heart thump faster for some reason.

"Now, while I agree we should look for the old man, the 3rd round of Ragnarok began a moment ago, so--" He pauses to slide his arm around your shoulders. "Why not take the time to get to know one another? I'll even share a lollipop with you."

"Um... Okay," you retort.

So long as this doesn't get awkward.

He leads you over to the fountain and motions for you to sit, resting on the basin beside you. For a moment neither of you speaks; you watch the silken cord around his finger bob as he messes with it. The brief touch he had allowed you lingers on your skin; you hate to admit it, but you miss it.

"Any idea how we came to be tethered, my Lord?" You ask.

Buddha snorts and then laughs.

"My Lord?"

"How should I address you then?" You ask, narrowing your eyes in annoyance. It's not like you've ever spoken to a God; you don't know how to address one. "Because honestly, calling you Buddha is a bit uncomfortable."

The said man raises a brow.

"Is it? I suppose for a human it might be. Hmm. I've been known for a lot of things. Gautama, Gotama, Buddha Shakyamuni. You can call me whatever you like."

Does he honestly not mind?

"Is Shaka OK?" You ask.

He glances at you and grins.

"So, you do know me."

"A little here and there," you admit. "Your name is widely known throughout mankind. But to be honest, you aren't what I expected."

As soon as this leaves your lips, you immediately regret it.

"I'm sorry. I––"

"What were you expecting?" Buddha asks. He doesn't seem annoyed or angry, just curious.

Your face heats up in embarrassment. There's no point in lying to him, you reckon.

"I've always heard that the Buddha looked like a typical shaved man and in your old age, you are described as having a stooped body."

"Are you upset?"

You shake your head no and avert your eyes.

"I think you're extremely handsome, hot even."

It's silent for a moment, then the lollipop he had been sucking on appears in your line of sight. You widen your eyes in shock, peering over at the blue-eyed god.

"Want a lick?"

Your face heats up.

"You... had that in your mouth."

Buddha grunts.

"I don't have anything, and besides... we're tethered, remember?"

"No offense, but that doesn't mean I want to swap spit with you. It was a generous offer though," you state.

He hums and slides the lollipop back into his mouth; the sound of it clicking against his canines makes you snort. It almost seems like he's pouting for some reason.

"I'll try one you haven't licked on," you mention.

"No way. Not after you insulted me," Buddha states.

The grin on his face indicates that he's not serious however; you are relieved. For a God, he isn't bad. You are thankful that if it had to be a God, it is him.

An echo of cheers erupts from the stadium and you hear Heimdall announce the victor of the 3rd round. Is it over already? Your eyes widen in shock.

"He did it... He won."

Kojiro Sasaki beat a God. Perhaps there is some hope for humanity.

The loud crunch of a lollipop draws your attention to Buddha. He spits the stick onto the ground and stands having a serious look on his face. You frown. Is there something wrong? Perhaps it is because a God had died.

"Zeus isn't gonna take this lightly," he utters.

You imagine not. Poseidon is his brother. And now he is dead. It's a double whammy of a situation.

"Well... It's about time we got you back to the stadium." Buddha pauses to fake a yawn. "I'll search for Yue-Lao."

This is a shame; you want to know what reason he had to tether you to Buddha. You agree with a nod despite the frown on your face. A hand appears in your line of sight and you raise a brow, turning your eyes to Buddha; an easy-going grin appears on his face.

"I'll walk you back."

"I appreciate it," you mention with a smile, taking his hand.

For some reason, this feels right.

You hardly know what to think about the 4th match or who to root for. The representative for the Humans is a well-known murderer, Jack the Ripper, whilst the Gods have Hercules on their side. It strikes you as odd that a man known for killing humans is representing them, but if his win gives the Humans a chance then there isn't much you can argue about.

It's a strange match is all.

Feeling the cord around your finger jerk, you glance down at it, curious as to what Buddha is doing. Perhaps he's looking for Yue-Lao himself. He had parted ways with you at the top of the stadium, haven took you to your section unbeknownst to the Humans around you.

The 4th match started soon after.

You sigh and lean back in your chair, watching the screen in front of you. So much is happening at once but your thoughts are on the attractive God that you are tethered to. You never got to ask him what he plans to do with you should Yue-Lao choose to leave the silken cord around your finger. It's a lot to consider, honestly; a lot you're not sure you are ready for.

A motion from the corner of your eye draws your attention to the scholar beside you, his name you are still unsure of. He looks shocked almost, pointing his finger toward something or someone past you. Raising a brow, you peek over your shoulder and notice a familiar God standing at the end of the aisle watching the screen.

You stand and quickly saunter over to him.

"Shaka?" His eyes turn to you as you call his name. "What are you doing here?"

Buddha grins.

"I came to get you. Are you ready?"

Did he find Yue-Lao?

"Of course."

Leading you away from the stadium, you silently walk beside him to a nearby hill outside the arena. The scenery is stunning, the most captivating thing you have ever seen. But where is Yue-Lao?

"Are we meeting him here?" You ask in confusion.

Buddha sits at the base of a large Bodhi tree and hums.

"Meeting who?"

Did he already forget?

"Yue-Lao," you answer with a sigh.

"I haven't looked for him," Buddha mentions with a yawn.

Is he serious? Your jaw tightens.

"Are you not even a little curious?"

"Hmm. No. Even as a joke we're bound for a reason. Besides... I'm not bothered by it," Buddha answers.

Your eyes widen in shock. How can he not be bothered? You are a human. He may have been at one time too, but the era of mankind is at an end. With an uneasy sigh, you sit beside him, looking out at the arena in the distance. The warm gentle breeze sways your hair and little by little you relax.

"I'm sorry about Poseidon. Hearing that a God was struck down by a human can't be easy," you utter.

Or lifting for that matter. It must have struck--

A boisterous laugh rings out from the God beside you as he tosses his head back.

"You're hilarious."

"I was being sincere," you argue.

Buddha hums and tilts his head toward you.

"There's no reason to apologize. He knew what he was signing up for... And honestly, he underestimated the Humans."

Reaching between the robes tied at his waist, he pulled out a lollipop.

"The same may happen to me when it's my turn," he continues, popping the sweet candy in his mouth. "Though I doubt it."

He's battling in the tournament too? Your jaw tightens in uncertainty. This isn't a good sign for the humans or you for that matter. Why is he telling you this? You narrow your eyes.

"If we lose... What do you plan to do with me?"

Buddha snorts and presses the lollipop between his cheek and teeth.

"You can come back to Nirvana with me if you chose to."

Your face heats up. Perhaps it's the cord, but his proposal sounds lovely. Forever with an easygoing and attractive God like him is tempting.

"May I have my lollipop now?"

With a grin, Buddha takes the one from his mouth and offers it to you. Maybe he didn't expect you to take it, because the moment you do, sliding the treat into your mouth, his blue eyes widen. The taste of blue raspberry coats your tongue as you eagerly lick it, feeling the small indentations from his canines.

"I thought you didn't want to swap spit with me," he reminds you.

"We're tethered, remember." You retort.

Shifting the lollipop between your teeth, you press down until the shell cracks. The wide-eyed expression on the God beside you makes you snort."

"Hold on! That's the last one," Buddha mentions with a whine, reaching for the stick.

You lean back out of his reach.

"You said you'd give me one."

"I said we'd share," he clarifies.

Perhaps he did, however, he ate the last one without sharing. You grin teasingly at him.

"I'll take my share then.

As your teeth crunch down on the candy, the God lunges at you, knocking you onto your back; you don't mean to, but the sudden movement causes your mouth to snap closed, crushing the lollipop to pieces. Buddha stares down at you, mouth slightly agape as he removes the barren stick from your lips. Oops. He shouldn't have lunged at you. The fact he is nestled between your thighs forces an embarrassed heat to your face. It also doesn't help that he looks stunning in this position; with wisps of light green hair dangling around his face.

You reach up and curl a lock around your finger, admiring the way it springs back into place.

"I'm sorry about––"

Pressure on your thighs makes you shiver as the God leans down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. For a moment, your head begins to spin; a pleasant warmth erupts in your stomach and your eyes tear up. Is this a product of the tether? A simple kiss shouldn't be this intense. It's too tempting not to want more. You return the kiss, groaning softly as Buddha adds more pressure. Why is he kissing you? It's not like you are arguing, but there has to be a reason.

No way! Is he wanting the candy? You part from him, ignoring the light tug of your bottom lip between his, and narrow your eyes.

"That's a mean trick."

"I'm just taking my share," Buddha utters. A grin spreads across his face. "Or maybe I just want an excuse to taste you."

Goosebumps rise across your skin in response.

"It's unfair how insanely attractive you are," you mention. Sliding your legs around his waist, you shoot him a glare. "Take your share if you want it."

Pressing his thumb against your bottom lip as he leans down, Buddha gently ushers you to slightly open your mouth, giving you a brief kiss before his tongue meets yours. A low moan tickles your throat, relishing in the sensation of the God intimately sucking on your tongue. The sweet and fruity taste of blue raspberry nearly drives you mad; the aroma is everywhere.

Parting from you, a thin lead of blue-tented saliva connects his tongue to yours until he breaks it, chewing on the candy he swiped from your mouth. Honestly, you feel like a complete mess. You are aware that your face is heated, and that your pussy is humming in arousal. Staring pleadingly into your eyes, you notice the unusual lily pattern in his own. Were those always there?

"Your eyes are gorgeous."

With a grin, Buddha lifts you from the ground and into his lap; your legs remain securely around his waist. He quickly turns his attention to your ear, running his warm tongue along the shell before he drops to your neck, tasting your skin. This is unreal; the sensation is almost too much to bear. He's slowly driving you mad with want.

Guiding his hand down, you grin as Buddha catches on, sinking his fingers into the waistband of your pants, yanking them down a bit. You sit up on your knees to help him remove them. With them gone, he slides his hand between your thighs and sinks a finger into your warm pussy. As he spreads your walls, preparing you for what is to come, you lean in and kiss his candy-coated lips. It takes everything you can not to break the kiss and moan; another finger slides in, pumping into you. For someone rumored to be so peaceful, he is brutal on your pussy. But what will his cock feel like inside you?

Sucking on his tongue, you yank on his robes urging him to remove them or pull them up; the latter he soon does, pulling them over his knees. It doesn't surprise you to feel that he isn't wearing anything beneath them; his hard cock rests against your thigh. You groan as his fingers retreat, leaving you feeling empty. And no sooner a tight pressure feels you as he eases you down onto him to the base. You break the kiss with a sigh; you've honestly never felt so full in your life.

"Shaka," you utter almost anxiously.

Buddha grins and buries his short nails into your hips.

"Hold on to me."

You do as told, not able to contain the gleeful smile on your face as the God begins to rock you on his cock. It hurts a bit, but honestly, you don't care; the pain combined feels divine with the pleasure Buddha is giving you. A soft moan escapes his mouth, sending warm breath against your neck; it's the hottest thing you have ever heard. Your walls tighten in response.

There isn't much you can do but try to match his quick and rough pace, arching your back. You honestly feel like you are just along for the ride at this point. It feels so damn good. There's no way you can last like this; your entire body is already tensing up. It doesn't help that the God wrecking you is giving you the most sinful and possessive look; lily patterns decorate his gorgeous blue eyes.

A warm pressure in your stomach quickly consumes you, pushing you over the edge and into an intense orgasm. It's too much; you've never felt this satisfied before almost like you can't breathe. For a minute you forget to, clutching onto the God as you ride out your high. A cold sweat washes over you and strangely a low static-like noise permeates your ears. What is this? The world around you suddenly goes dark.

A moment later, you snap to, leaning up. The God beneath you is still but remains inside you.

"Welcome back. Are you OK?" Buddha asks.

"I... What just happened?"

Your head is light and your body feels completely worn out.

"You fainted, he answers.

What? There's no way. Your face heats up in embarrassment as you avert your attention from him. Is this even possible? Did your orgasm make you faint? You've never fainted from overstimulation before, but you've also never fucked a God before either.

"I'm sorry I––"

Buddha snorts, interrupting you.

"You fainted because you stopped breathing... though I'm flattered you thought it was because of me."

Is this what caused it? You are unsure of whether you should feel relieved or not. Regardless, it's a bit embarrassing. The feeling of his cock stretching your walls reminds you that he didn't finish. You'd feel terrible if you left him like this.

"Let me take care of you."

Buddha raises a brow.

You ease off him, humming as this action leaves your walls empty and sore. Resting your knees on the ground, you reach down, wrapping your hand around him. His shaft is slick with your arousal so at least you won't have a hard time going down on him. Licking your eager lips, you lean down and press a kiss against him. This almost feels wrong, sucking off a God, but at the moment, you don't care. Sliding open your mouth, you sink onto him, taking as much in as you can; oddly enough, you don't taste half bad.

Slowly at first, you bob your head. Your tongue presses tight against the underside of his shaft, not able to move much due to limited space, but you do your best to make this good for him. It's a shame you can't see his expression; a soft grunt is the only indication you have to go on. The idea that you can make a God come surrounds you with pride and you tilt your head a bit, taking him from another angle.

A hand in your hair urges you to take a quick look at Buddha. He is staring in the distance, mouth slightly open. As expected of a God, he's gorgeous like this. You hum, bobbing your head a bit fast; the grip on your hair tightens in response. At this pace, it isn't long before you hear him groan softly. His cock twitches as warm ropes of cum coats your tongue. You continue to slowly bob your head until he is done, then you lean up, resting on your legs with a pleased yet worn-out expression on your heated face.

Swallowing the mess in your mouth, you hum.

"Even as a soul, I feel exhausted."

Buddha grins.

"We'll rest after we find Yue-Lao." He pauses to raise his finger; the one with the cord attached to it. "You wanted to ask how to remove this, didn't you?"

You do. But maybe this arrangement isn't so bad. Buddha straightens himself out and makes a move to stand, but you quickly stop him, gripping his robes.

"Can we maybe wait? I just... want to see how this pans out."

"Having second thoughts?" Buddha asks.

Is it that obvious? You nod to clarify.

"You're not that bad, I suppose, for a God."

Buddha laughs and sits back down, leaning onto his side with his hand propping him up; the other pats the ground beside him. You accept his offer, laying on your side facing him; you honestly don't care that you're bare from the waist down. The light breeze and warm sun dancing across your skin are delightful.

"Shaka," you call, resting your eyes. "If the Humans win, may I still go with you to Nirvana?"

"It's your decision... with me changing sides, the chance of the Humans losing is slim," Buddha answers.

Is he serious? You open your eyes briefly to glance at him. He's not doing this for you, is he?

"Are you––"

Interrupting you with a yawn, he shuts his eyes.

"Rest. It won't be long before I go on."

There isn't a way to convince him otherwise once his mind is made up, it seems. No matter. A God on the side of the Humans is a big leap. Either way, whichever wins, you can't wait to see what this soulmate business is all about.

#record of ragnorak fandom #buddha x reader #record of ragnarok fanfic #buddha ror #female reader #record of ragnorak

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au-starss · 2 years

Text

ONLY YOU DARLING !

༄ synopsis… they all have favourite places to kiss you, these are those places

༄ characters… albedo, ayato, childe, diluc, gorou, kaeya, kazuha, scaramouche, thoma, xiao, zhongli x gn!reader

༄ tags… suggestive content, fluff, kissing, making out

༄ words… n/a

༄ author’s thoughts… good afternoon everyone take this food for your hungry mouths.

albedo !

He either gives long, gentle kisses or quick pecks where he can reach

Sometimes he’s too busy to indulge in you, so forehead kisses are his way to go

But when it’s the two of you in a intimate moment, he can get carried away

Trust me though, he loves when the two of you are making out

His favourite thing to do is touch foreheads and hold his hand at your head

Albedo also loves testing new things to get different reactions when kissing

What can he say? He’s an alchemist. He’s always curious for results

ayato !

Like Albedo, Ayato is a very busy man

So he kisses wherever he can reach when he passes you

His favourite type of kiss however, is the soft ones he places on your knuckles

He’ll do it whenever he can; greeting you, lying in bed, sitting together in a meeting, even out in public

In a make-out session, he loves to hold your hands in place while kissing you

Though it cant happen as often as he likes, he’ll make the most of it when it does

Just feeling your presence when being intimate is enough for him

childe !

God he loves your neck so much

And he does not have any shame about it

He kisses your neck whenever he gets the chance

He also likes the idea that there’s some sort physical mark to show that you already belong to someone

The intimacy of it all just gets him super excited and lovestrucken

And he’s only worse when the two of you are making out

Prepare a coverup if you have anything important the next day

diluc !

Diluc is a classic man; he adores your lips

The way you two work in sync, whether its just a peck or a passionate lock, is just everything to him

When working with him at the bar, he loves to give you quick pecks whenever he passes by to serve drinks

He always kisses your lips whenever he can, no matter the place

And he goes absolutely insane when you guys are making out

His hands are all over you and he does not pull away unless its for air

He worships you and the way you bless him with your lips

gorou !

He loves to kiss you literally anywhere

Public affection gets him flustered, so a lot of what he initiates is private

In public, he’ll kiss your hand whenever you have to part ways

In private, he is all over you

He loves making out with you, moving to kiss your lips, neck, arms, hands, etc.

It’s way more when he hasn’t seen you and kissed you

Trust him to be handsy and not let you go for a while

kaeya !

He adores kissing your neck so much

He has no shame and will do it anytime

Sitting in Angel’s Share? He’s all over your neck with kisses

At an important party? Expect him to use it as a way to tell everyone to back off

And oh lord he is much worse in private

You two making out is him trailing down to your neck and going wild

The next day he will insist you show it off to everyone

kazuha !

Your knuckles are his favourite place to kiss

Occasionally, when he’s writing a haiku, he’ll randomly grab your hand and kiss your knuckles without words

And he knows it flusters you, hence why he always does it

Oh and he’s more of a menace when you guys are making out

Kazuha always holds you in place while his tongue explores your mouth

During the most intimate moments he’ll pause kissing your lips just to kiss your hand

He’s a romantic guy, what can I say?

scaramouche !

He’s so rough with any kisses on a normal day, so he loves your lips and neck

In public, when people get too cozy, he’ll roughly kiss you to get the point across that you’re his

And he loves to fluster you in a back alley with neck kisses, just to leave you alone after until you both get home

In private, he can be so different

A lot of days, he’s tired when you two make out, so he can be very gentle with you

He shows a side reserved for you, giving soft kisses and holding your head to his

But he will in fact show no mercy if you tell people he does that

thoma !

Thoma is so romantic that he can even make leg kisses loving

He’ll kiss wherever he can reach, doesn’t matter what he’s doing

His favourite though has to be forehead/head kisses

God he loves catching you off gaurd

When making out, you’ll pull back to take deep breathes

In the meantime, he’ll kiss your forehead and go back to your intense session

Regardless of the scenario, Thoma will make do with whatever he can

xiao !

He is not one for kissing in public or just in general since he’s new to it

It’s normally you giving hand kisses or quick pecs

But trust me, he can in fact get hella jealous

He won’t normally express it then and there, but at home?

He will instigate a make-out session and be rough kissing you the whole time

He will also mark your neck and chest quite a bit because he wants you to be his only

After though he’ll apologize but never once say that he was ever jealous

zhongli !

Much like Diluc, he is a classic man

He loves your lips and your hands

The way you get flustered when he parts you with a knuckle kiss or a long passionate kiss on the lips

And you bet it he loves making out with you

He’ll continuously mutter about how amazing you are with breathless kisses

Randomly, he’ll grab your arm and kiss your wrist before indulging back in you again

Your lips may be a little swollen after, but the experience is so worth it

#༄ order up!#genshin impact #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #ayato x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #gorou x reader #kazuha x reader #kaeya x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #tohma x reader #thoma x reader #zhongli x reader

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deliciousangelfestival · 9 months

Text

My Problematic Girl - Chapter 4

Character: College!Steve Rogers x Rich!Female Reader

Prologue: Steve has lived being nobody in this prestigious university. He just wants to graduate and get a job to get more money to pay the bills for his mother's surgery.

But his life turned upside when a new student attended his class. His quiet and dull life became dangerous and full of surprises.

×××

She exhaled the cigarette smoke from her lips. She still doesn’t care even though he told her he has asthma.

She looked at Steve and said, “Bark for me.”

Steve felt humiliated, and his pride was crushed. But she held his life and secrets. He had to bury his dignity to the ground, and he murmured,

“Woof.”

******

I would appreciate any comments and feedback you can give me.

You can tell me if you want to join the tag list. Don't be shy 😘💖💜💙

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7 ,Chapter 8 , Chapter 9,-

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His body felt weak, and he dropped himself to the floor. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, dreaming he could run away.

He punched the floor and screamed, "No! I won't do it."

"Don't be that innocent, Steve. Art is always related to money laundry."

Y/N exhaled another smoke. "I knew a drug cartel who hung two Picasso's in his bathroom."

'Oh God, she knows a drug cartel now.' Steve's hand ran down his face.

"You need the money, Steve. Drawing hentai comics and the salary of a part-time waitress and cashier is not enough to pay for your mother's surgery."

"And your father's debts."

How did she know that? That's the painful past he always pretends never happened. They have to move several times to avoid the debt collector.

He lifted his head to look up at her. "You do a background check on me?"

Then it hit him. "You choose me because I'm poor!!!"

She didn't deny it, and it seems like she admits it.

Y/N know Steve is a man with a strong sense of pride.

That's why she wanted to break him. He became easy prey because he didn't have any money.

"Steve, I'm offering you a shortcut to get quick money."

"Or do you want to build a startup that could give you more debt or join a Ponzi scheme like your father?"

Steve gritted his teeth. "You're evil."

Y/N let out laughter wounded like a warning from a beast. "Not just evil but also greedy. I learned this the hard way to survive."

'Survive? What does she mean by that?'

She offered her hand to him. "If you doubt me, I have written a contract for this. In that contract, you get all the benefits. If you have disadvantages, you can sue me."

He clenched his fist. What does she want from him? Please make her stop. It felt like he was stuck in a shipping ship.

"You need this, Steve. Aren't you tired of being humiliated because you have no money?"

Steve saw Y/N with two horns, bat wings, and a tail. She offered him a dangerous deal.

But deep down, even though he knew this was wrong, he needed that money.

He's tired of drawing that comic, different part-time jobs, and hiding from debt collectors; he wants to move out of that ugly apartment and needs money for his mother's surgery.

He threw away his morals. 'Forgive me, Mother, this son of yours will be a partner in crime.'

He grabbed her hand, and she helped him to stand up. He doesn't speak, but it's a silent yes.

Y/N smiled, "That wasn't difficult right?"

She dragged his hand, but Steve's body wouldn't move. "Where are we going?"

"Just get into the car."

He let her drag his hand; when he finally got inside the car and put on his seat belt, he asked, "Now we're inside; where are we going?"

"Saint Barbara Hospital."

Steve almost jolted his eyes. "This is low Y/N !!! You're going to use my mom to blackmail me?"

This is also the first he screamed at her. That place is where his mother got admitted.

Y/N gasped, "Wow, I will never use that method."

He scoffed, "Yeah, right."

She stirred the wheel and started to drive. "You are free to hate me. But I'm the only solution you got. Besides, I'm visiting someone too."

Steve remembered something, and it made him wonder. "Before you said, evil and greed are needed to survive. What do you mean by that?"

There's no answer. Steve saw Y/N's right hand tremble; she had to put her left hand to calm it down. Then she immediately turned on the car autopilot.

She lowered her head while massaging her hand.

"I learned it the hard way; being kind is useless. That's why I'm intrigued by you."

Steve pointed to himself. "Me?"

"You aren't offended when your classmates mock you; you weren't greedy when I gave you the deposit money for the drawing. And I liked how you looked at me for the first time."

She was silent for a second, then said "You despised me."

"..."

Steve rubbed his forehead; he is dealing with a crazy person. "You're crazy."

She laughed and said, "I know."

When the car arrived, the hospital security opened the car, and she handed him the key.

Steve always gets here by bus but never sees a valet service.

"I didn't know this hospital offered a valet service."

"They don't."

Both of them walked together into the lift. Y/N pressed the 2nd floor. Steve always came to this hospital; he knew that floor was for physiotherapy.

Without looking at him, she said, "I'm going this way without looking at him. See you tomorrow."

Steve finally could breathe when she left. When the lift door slide opened, he went straight to a patient room where his mother stayed.

There he saw his mother already in the wheelchair.

She smiled at him because she knew his son would come. "Let's go outside. The weather is nice."

Steve couldn't say no to this fantastic woman. Sarah Rogers. She has sacrificed so much, and he is always grateful for having a strong mother like her.

But her kidney got worse. Because his father failed at business, he ran away and left the debt to Steve and Sarah. One day his mother had to sell her kidney so they could survive.

Steve still felt guilty until this day. But she never blames anyone, even her husband, and keeps smiling.

Steve brought her to the hospital park. On the way to the park, Sarah greeted everyone. She stayed in the hospital for so long that made her know everyone.

When he found a perfect spot to sit, Sarah pointed at someone.

"Oh, that's Lilly."

Steve looked in the direction she pointed. An older woman in a wheelchair and being pushed by…

Y/N???

"Mom, you know her?"

"Lilly, of course. She used to be our neighbour. She's a piano teacher."

"And the person who is behind her?"

"Ooh, you mean Y/N? She's a nice kid."

'Nice? She's far from that.' Steve wants to tell his mother the truth.

"She used to live around our neighbourhood too. But she moved after her father remarried"

Steve raises his eyebrows. Y/N used to live near their apartment. She didn't grow up in an elite neighbourhood?

"Y/n is Lilly's only student who keeps coming to check on her. And she paid for her surgery."

"Student?"

"Lilly told me Y/N is a prodigy, but she stopped playing the piano after an accident."

Sarah sighed. "That poor girl, Lilly, always in tears when she mentioned it. Y/N's fingers got hurt because of the accident, and she can't play the piano anymore."

Steve remembered Y/N were shaking.

Did something happen in her childhood? Trauma?

He doesn't know he starts to sympathise with Y/N. He shook his head. It's not just her who went through a hard life.

Even if she has trauma, at least she has money.

After he visited his mother, Steve went home and started painting. If he could complete his work, he could end the deal with Y/N immediately.

'Bzzt.'

Hmm? Another call from Bucky. Steve answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Uhm, the girl you mentioned yesterday reminded me of a famous kid from my university."

Steve sighed and said, "Y/N L/N." That name reminded him of tobacco since she smoked a lot.

"Ahh, that's her name !! She is admitted into your faculty?"

"Yeah."

"That's unrelated to her law degree."

So she's graduated. "Then what is she doing in Stark?"

"Uhm, I heard a rumour from my team. It was hot gossip."

"What is it?"

"Y/N, after she graduated and joined her father's law firm, she exposed the Imperial University admission scandal."

Steve gasped when he heard that info. He heard about that scandal, but the news stopped talking about it.

"You know what's crazy? Her step-grandfather is the biggest donor of this campus."

How did Bucky know that?

"I think she went to Stark to make her stay out of trouble."

'That's why she said this is her punishment.'

"Did she make trouble there?"

"Always. We called her Mad Dog. Some people don't agree with her method, but she defends weak students."

That's hard to believe. Wait, she defends him from Luke. He saw her as a good person before she turned into a crime lord.

"I think she got kicked out from the family because she almost tarnished her father's law firm."

"And her sugar daddy Tonny helped her."

"What?!! No!!! That's disgusting. Tony is her godfather."

"How did you know?"

"When she graduated, her father didn't come, and Tony replaced him. Tony was so proud of her perfect GPA and told everyone that he's Y/N godfather."

"What is her father's name?"

"Brian Solomon."

'Brian. That name sounds familiar.'

"Why does she have a different last name?"

"Her father took his wife's name after he got remarried. If you go here, you will know everything about her. Her family is basically like a royal family. "

'Crash'.

"Steve, what's wrong?"

"My hand slipped. I break the glass. Sorry Bucky, I'll hang up."

Steve put down his phone and picks up the shattered glass.

L/N.

Lawyer Brian L/N. Steve remembered that name.

That person is the lawyer who defends the people who introduce the Ponzi Scheme to a bunch of people like Steve's father.

The victim who invested their money lost everything. While the mastermind didn't get punished.

"Uurgh." This info triggered his asthma. Steve took his inhaler to breathe.

What kind of crazy coincidence is this?

Y/N is Brian L/N's daughter.

Like father and daughter, both of them are evil and greedy.

Thank you for reading. I hope you like it.

You can tell me if you want to join the tag list. Don't be shy 😘💖💜💙

I will always be grateful for those who reblog. Thank you so much.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7 , Chapter 8, Chapter 9,-

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lexosaurus · 5 months

Text

The Fog Around Us: Chapter 1

Hello all here's my second fic for the @ecto-implosion! This one with @nightwanderers12081 who did AN INCREDIBLE PIECE OF ART LOOK AT IT!

Please enjoy my accompanying fic!

read on: [ao3]

[see all chapters]

Characters: Danny Fenton, Valerie Gray Tags: Amnesiac Danny Fenton, Enemies to Friends WC: 4476 Summary: Two weeks had passed since Danny Fenton went missing. Two weeks had passed since Phantom had disappeared as well. It couldn't be coincidence.

****

“He can't have gotten far.”

Those were the words Valerie had heard the first day the missing child report had been filed. The first day Danny didn't show up to school.

“You kidding, Fenton?” Dash said, emphasizing Danny's name with the sort of disbelief one would say about a toddler training for the Olympics. “No—no way! He's so annoying, I bet whoever nabbed him will get so pissed at his loser squeaky voice that they'll toss him right out of their truck. They probably didn't even get him out of the city!”

“No way he's gotten far,” Kwan agreed.

The next day in homeroom, it had come from Sam. She hadn't been in school the previous day. Well, she had at first, but after the whispers started going around and the police showed up at the school, she and Tucker had been pulled to the main office all too quickly.

“He can't have gone far,” she whispered to Tucker, who was wringing his red cap around in his fingers. “It's Danny we're talking about. He's probably—you know. He's fine.”

Tucker was silent for a moment. To an outsider, it would look like he simply had nothing to say. But Valerie knew better. She could see how his jaw twitched, just barely suppressing whatever words were swimming around in his mind. It was only after his muscles relaxed that he finally spoke, his voice so quiet that Valerie almost didn't pick up what he said. “I know you want to think that, but Danny wouldn't...do this. He wouldn't slip away without telling us first.”

Whatever temper Tucker swallowed, Sam had no problem spitting out. “You don't know that. You know how he gets!”

“I do know, Sam. There's no way—”

“This is the same guy who—” Sam stuttered, then lowered her voice, hissing something too softly for Valerie to hear.

Tucker's reaction was telling, though. He sighed, not sharply, but still showcasing his frustrations all the same. “This is different. Come on, you know that.”

“I don't want to hear it,” Sam snapped. “He's fine, Tuck.”

And that was that.

Valerie could almost believe them. And god, she yearned to believe them with a fortitude that nearly crushed her heart, but on the third day, she made the mistake of passing by the teacher's lounge.

In an instant, she was plunged back into this new ice-cold reality.

“His parents suspect ghosts,” came the gruff voice of Ms. Tetslaff. “And you know, as wacko as they are, this time? Yeah, I might believe them.”

“It's not too far-fetched. You know that the CPS investigation came up clean. Especially after speaking to Ms. Jasmine Fenton directly, nothing came up that was particularly worrisome from their house. They seem like a good family, albeit a bit to the left. It feels unlikely that any of this could have stemmed from within the home,” Mr. Lancer said.

CPS investigated their house? Valerie thought back, but she didn't remember Danny ever mentioning it. So, why? Why had CPS gone?

“And you know how Mr. Fenton gets whenever a ghost gets near,” Mr. Lancer continued.

“Oh yeah, he's a jumpy one,” Ms. Tetslaff agreed. “Always the first one out of the class.”

“And the last one back, sporting some sort of bruise,” came the voice of the old history teacher. What was her name, Mrs. Sawyer?

No, her name didn’t matter right now. What, with this information piercing every wall around Valerie's mind.

Danny was...getting hurt? And she hadn't noticed?

But she didn't have long to process this before Mr. Falluca took his chance to interject. “Didn't I tell you? After that whole CPS debacle? I told you all it was ghost related. I told you that the parents are weird, but Danny was always getting hurt around a ghost attack or on his way to school.”

He was what?

Why hadn't Valerie seen anything? Or heard anything?

“And I agreed if you'll recall,” Mr. Lancer said.

“I wouldn't be surprised if a ghost kidnapped him this time,” Mr. Falluca said.

“To get to his parents, most likely. The weekly harassment wasn't getting anywhere, so they had to escalate,” Mr. Lancer concluded.

“Poor kid,” Ms. Tetslaff murmured.

“Indeed. And if that's truly the case, then who knows how far they've gone. They're ghosts, after all.”

But Valerie was through listening to the teacher's gossip. She backed from the door, stumbled over her feet, and bolted around the corner, nearly slamming into some upperclassmen as she did.

No...no way....Danny? Her Danny?

She'd broken up with him so he wouldn't get hurt, hadn't she? She'd predicted this. Ghosts were ruthless and vengeful and ugh, she had let him go to prevent this from happening!

And yet!

And yet...

She skidded to a stop, her heart thundering in her ears. Around her, the hallway bled Casper High red, posters about kindness and unity hung haphazardly over the walls, and the ever-long fractals of lockers wove spiderwebs around her vision.

And yet, he'd been hurt anyway. No, it was worse than that. He'd been hurting the whole time, and she hadn't known. He'd...never told her.

But why would he? It wasn't like he knew that she was the Red Huntress. Maybe if she'd revealed this to him, he would have told her about the ghosts harassing him. Maybe she could have done something. Maybe, maybe it wouldn't have come to this.

Now, it was too late. Danny was gone.

And she had to bear the weight of the blame.

Her breath shortened, and hot tears sprang to her eyes too quickly for her to will away. They spilled down her cheeks and splashed onto the disgusting red and white tile below her.

She should wipe them off, stop crying, suck it up. She couldn't break down now, not while Danny was out there with god only knew which rogue now.

But shit, it was her fault.

Her weakness got to her, and she found herself standing before the row of lockers with her forehead pressed against the cool metal. Her curly hair fell around her, shielding her from the view of any potential onlookers. But thankfully, the science hallway—tucked in its own small corner of the school—was always nearly deserted while classes were in session.

She should have saved Danny. She should have noticed something, anything. What was even the point of having all this gear if she couldn't protect the people she cared about most?

She wanted to crumble, to disintegrate into a pile of dust on the floor. She held her hand against her mouth, choking back sobs that tried to rip from the core of her diaphragm, but she knew that the lunch period was nearly over and it would only be a matter of minutes before the hall was populated once again.

So she breathed. In, then out. First, nothing but a shaky jolt, and then steadier. In and out until the thick tears had reduced to rubble, and her sobs were nothing but hiccups.

And then she made a promise to herself. One to bring Danny back home.

She may have failed to protect him before, but she wouldn't fail to save him this time.

She wouldn't.

****

The air was still tonight—unusual for this particularly windy fall—and it was as if Valerie could hear every secret Amity Park whispered into the stars. Every owl hoot in the surrounding air, every soft click of someone’s heels on the pavement below.

There was a certain serenity to these kinds of nights, ones that were bathed in countless stars glittering in the air above. Not that Valerie had really cared about silly things like the stars before. But after she began donning flight in her red suit alone, they became a source of comfort to her. A constant that she could count on—if the clouds allowed so.

And it was all thanks to one particular boy that she had even looked up in the first place, hadn’t it?

The past two weeks, she found herself leaning on their comfort more as she spent the nights searching, and searching, and searching some more.

But where should she look? She didn’t know. It had been so long that he could be anywhere. There was a chance—a very likely chance—he wasn’t in Amity Park at all.

Especially if what she’d heard about him was true.

It was Johnny 13 who had let it slip. After a week of no leads, of no sleep, Valerie had the rather unfortunate pleasure of running into the biker ghost himself.

Or, maybe the fortunate pleasure. Because after cornering him and pressing her gun to his temple, his silver tongue was all too eager to spill.

“The kid?” Johnny had asked.

“Fenton. Son of the ghost hunters? Maybe you’ve heard of him.” Valerie wedged her gun into his skin just a little more.

“Jeez, cool it. Yeah, I’ve heard of him. Kid’s damn annoying enough on his own without his parents getting involved.”

Confusion sliced through her, but she had only just begun to react when Johnny slid out from her hold, reappearing on her other side.

“What are you talking about?” Valerie whirled around, nearly forgetting to keep her gun out in front of her. “Danny? The son? He doesn’t have anything to do with ghosts!”

Johnny barked a vicious laugh. “Oh, is that what he tells you? Man, you humans are so blind. Well, kid’s a good actor, I’ll give him that.”

Then, black cloaked her vision, and she could hardly escape the swirling shadows before she looked up and realized that Johnny 13 was gone. And then, so was his shadow.

That had happened almost a week ago, and since then she had questioned any ghost that crossed her path, but either no one knew or no one would tell her.

As the days stretched on, her suspicion about who could be behind Danny’s disappearance only grew, molted, and then solidified until there was only one ghost it could be.

The one ghost that had—not-so-coincidentally, Valerie was sure—disappeared as well.

In fact, Valerie was sure she hadn’t seen Phantom since before Danny’s disappearance. She tried to remember and…yeah, he hadn’t made any appearance grande nor small over the past two weeks.

That was unusual for him, the ghost that almost seemed to live in Amity Park for how much time he spent here.

So Phantom had to be involved somehow. He just had to. Perhaps he was the one who took Danny, or he could be just an accomplice. Either way, the timing was too exact for him not to be involved at all.

But he was just. Gone.

Valerie had searched high and low, but there didn’t seem to be any sign of him anywhere. And if he was the one who took Danny, then where had they gone? The Ghost Zone?

Valerie tried not to think about that possibility too much.

So when a frighteningly familiar ecto-signature reading popped up on her wristband, Valerie didn’t hesitate to jet over to the source of it. He was just around the block—so close—and soon, she would have answers.

That little asshole thought he could just appear after two weeks of Danny’s disappearance as if everyone was going to welcome him back with open arms? As if nothing ever happened?

Yeah, fuck that.

Drawing her weapons was a subconscious action at this point. Valerie didn’t have to think before her gun of choice had formed in her hand—black, with red on the side. Sleek and deadly, just like her.

She whipped around the corner of a building, looked out into the street, and there he was, hovering thirty feet above the sidewalk. Bathed in white with wild hair floating around him as if underwater and his black and white suit unmistakable against the Amity Park skyline, there was Phantom.

He was slow to face her, but that only worked to her advantage. Because as soon as it clicked in his head what was happening, Valerie was already on him, her gun trained at his forehead, her eyes fiery with weeks of untapped fury as she shouted, “What the hell did you do to him?”

Phantom blinked once, his eyes flickering to the gun, then Valerie, then to the gun again. He blinked again, this time slow, and perhaps so obtuse and obnoxious that Valerie couldn’t help but press her ectoweapon into his aura as she yelled, “I’ll fucking kill you again, Phantom! I’m not playing. Tell me what happened to him! What did you do to Fenton?”

Knitted eyebrows shot up along with his hands, and he jolted back as if seeing the gun for the first time. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hang on, what are you talking about?”

But that only enraged Valerie even more. “Don’t play dumb with me!”

“Seriously, I don’t know what’s going on! I don’t even know who that is!”

“You disappear for two weeks the same time as Fenton does, and now you’re claiming to not know anything?” Valerie’s glare narrowed as red tinged the edges of her vision. “Seriously, how much of a dumbass do you think I am? Spill! What the fuck happened to him? What did you do?”

He inched back more, his hands clasping, unclasping, then dropping once again. There was a nervous energy around him, and Valerie noticed—odd—that his chest seemed to be rising and falling almost as if he were hyperventilating.

But no, that wasn’t possible. “Answer me!” she snapped.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Do I even know you?”

Valerie could have laughed at the sheer audacity of Phantom, but then she looked at him—really looked at him. His wide eyes quivering in anxiety, his ears which seemed to be pointed lower than usual, his panicked stance, and his fast…breathing…and suddenly, Valerie wasn’t sure anymore. Because the Phantom she knew would have made a stupid quip, shot her gun, and darted away.

But this? This Phantom? The one having anxiety before her?

This Phantom was almost pitiful.

She felt her grip on her gun weaken, and her arm lowered ever so slightly. “You don’t…remember me?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, but I think you have me confused for someone else!” he said, drawing his palms up once again in surrender. “I’ve never met you.”

…How?

She tried again, gritting her teeth and drawing her gun back to full force. “Oh no, you don’t get to do that game with me, ghost! Tell me what you did to Danny. Now.”

“I don’t know who that is!” he pleaded. “I’m serious! You have to believe me.”

Why did she believe him?

No, he was a ghost. Ghosts were conniving and evil. They were made to trick humans into getting their way. Valerie knew this. It was as ingrained into her as any self-defense move was.

So then, why? Why could she look into his acid-green eyes and instinctively know that he was telling the truth?

“What do you mean by that?” she pressed further. “I saw you just a few weeks ago. Hell, you live here. I know you do, even if you refuse to admit it.”

“I don’t—I don’t know. Really, I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve never been here, I promise! I was in the Infinite Realms and—”

“What? Where were you?”

The glow in his eyes flickered, and his nervous energy was suddenly so palpable that Valerie could almost taste it. “The Infinite Realms! You know, where all the ghosts live!”

But…Phantom had only ever called that the Ghost Zone. Like all the other humans did.

Infinite Realms? Was that…what the ghosts called it?

“I’ve only ever been there, I promise! I just…just woke up there one day, and I’ve been there ever since. I only got here—the Human World—a few minutes ago. There was a portal. Green, swirling light? You know? And I flew through it. I swear that’s the truth,” he insisted. “I promise I’ve never been here before. I didn’t know it was forbidden to come to your territory. I’m sorry! Once another portal comes, I can leave—uh, what’s your name?”

What. The. Fuck.

Valerie hovered in the air, stunned, staring into the eyes of a ghost she knew like the back of her hand, but one who didn’t seem to know…anything about her, about Amity, about anything.

“You are Phantom, right?” Valerie asked.

“That—that’s what the other ghosts call me,” he said.

So…this was Phantom. It wasn’t some strange clone or anything. So then, what the fuck was going on?

“But you don’t know who I am?”

“No,” he said, then his eyes widened once more. “Am I supposed to?”

A fit of hilarious anger surged through Valerie, and she wanted to snap at him that of course he should know! What was he, stupid? But almost as that spiked her, it dissolved away.

It wouldn’t have been fair to be angry at this Phantom. This one had no idea who she was, he didn’t know their history, and he apparently knew nothing about Amity Park, which Valerie had more than assumed had become his haunt.

Deep breaths, then. She needed to figure out what the hell was going on, then she could give Phantom a ginormous piece of her mind.

“You’ve been here before,” she explained. “A lot, actually.”

“I haven’t, I swear,” he insisted again in a panic, eyeing the gun that Valerie had forgotten was still between both of them.

She dropped her arm, though she didn’t retract the gun into her suit. One could never know, with ghosts as duplicative as they were.

“You have,” she retorted, now without the gun backing up her words. “I’ve seen you here more times than I can count. I’m The Red Huntress. That ring a bell at all?”

He shook his head, though his brow was furrowed. “I was born in the Realms like other ghosts, and I’ve only ever been there. I’ve never left!”

This game of ping-pong wasn’t going to work. At least, it could only work so long as Valerie was willing to sacrifice her entire night’s sleep for the cause of Phantom’s mental rehabilitation, which as it stood, she wasn’t.

Okay then. Time for plan B.

She pulled her cell phone out of the pocket in her suit’s thigh and opened TikTok, typing Phantom into the search bar.

“What are you doing?” a panicked voice asked.

She shushed him, eyeing past all the debate and theory videos until she found what she was looking for. Then, without so much as looking past her thumb clicking on the thumbnail, she shoved her phone in Phantom’s face.

He watched what sounded like some sort of compilation video with eyes expanding to comical proportions. Whatever weird fast “breathing” he’d been doing before was picking up again, and if it weren’t for Valerie’s adept reflexes, he probably would have swiped her phone out of her hands when he made to lunge for it.

“Nuh-uh!” Valerie said, holding her phone back.

“That can’t be right!” Phantom said, turning on her. “I swear, it’s not me!”

“It’s from a month ago, glow-boy!” she said. “There’s literally thousands of videos of you on here from the past year!”

He halted, his body growing rigid. “The past…how long?”

“Year,” Valerie repeated. She clicked another video and turned up her volume in time for the video Phantom to say a truly god-awful pun.

“Year?” Phantom’s voice was breathy. He wasn’t looking at the phone anymore, but Valerie could see him flinch at hearing his voice. “But that…no, that can’t be right.”

“I think your brain is having a hardware issue,” video Phantom said. “Have you tried turning it off and turning it back on?”

“You just don’t understand my BRILLIANCE!” a nasal voice screeched.

“Technus, your brain is slower than an Internet Explorer loading screen. I wouldn’t exactly call that brilliant.”

The Phantom in front of her shook his head incessantly. “That’s not me. It can’t be.” However, his voice sounded anything but convincing.

“It obviously is. What, you think I just made up a bunch of videos to confuse you?” Valerie snorted. “Give me a break.”

“But…I’ve only been a ghost for a few weeks! See? That can’t be me.”

A few weeks?

But that’s…

Valerie swiped down to the next video, this one a close-up of Phantom’s face grinning down at the camera below. He brought his gloved hands up behind his pointed ears like moose antlers, sticking his tongue out as he did. His white fangs poked out of the corners of his lips, his smile stretching until he broke into laughter.

The Phantom before her was sheet white.

“I’m only a few weeks old,” he begged quietly, hiding his eyes behind his hands as if Valerie’s phone screen was displaying imagery too horrific to look at. “This is impossible. I’ve been in the Infinite Realms. It’s…this is…no…”

“Phantom, I’ve known you for months.” Valerie leaned in, but as if sensing her, he reeled back, curling into himself.

“Is that how everyone knew who I was?” Phantom peered up from his hands.

“Who?”

“The other ghosts. They…they acted like they knew me. Like I should know them. But I’d never met them before.”

Valerie didn’t know what ghosts he was talking about specifically, but she had a general idea. “You have. You do know them.”

Phantom reached for her phone again, and this time Valerie let him have it. But, to her amusement, when he jabbed his finger at her screen, nothing happened.

“You have to take your gloves off.”

Phantom’s brows furrowed, and he surveyed his hands as if seeing the gloves for the first time.

“Do they come off?” he asked himself mildly.

“They do,” Valerie answered, even though she was sure he didn’t expect her to. And sure enough, at his look, she explained, “I’ve seen you do it before.”

“Oh.”

He handed her phone back to gently peel the white hazmat gloves from his suit. To his shock, but not Valerie’s, as soon as they left the vicinity of his aura, they simply dissolved into a green goo that began falling like rain before evaporating into the air.

“So that’s how that works,” he mused.

On one of his hands was the faint green glow of lightning that spindled up his wrists and disappeared into his suit. It was something that Valerie had seen before but never had the balls to ask about. Considering how much Phantom didn’t seem to know about, well, anything, she was sure as shit not getting that answer tonight either.

But on his other wrist was something interesting. And it was a small, skin-tight metal wristband.

“What’s that?” Valerie nodded toward the wristband.

“Huh?” Phantom asked, following her eyes to the bracelet. “Oh, I don’t know. I woke up with it, so I must have died in it. It’s how our outfits work, I think. Well, until you get powerful enough to change your appearance.”

Valerie filed away that bit of ghost lore for later. Her Phantom was never so forthcoming about the inner workings of ghosts as this.

“No, you didn’t. I’ve never seen that before, and I’ve seen you with your gloves off.”

“Well, I don’t remember. Maybe I was starting to figure out how to change my appearance before I got like this?” He reached for the phone, clearly uninterested in talking about a silly bracelet when his entire world seemed to be imploding.

Valerie relented, handing it over. But, to his growing agitation and her further amusement again, his fingers had little impact on the screen.

“How the hell do you work one of these?” he growled.

“You might be too cold. What are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to see if I knew that ghost! The metal one that was attacking me in the Realms yesterday!”

Valerie plucked her phone out of his fingers. “Okay, chill. Did he tell you his name?”

“Yeah. Said it about a million times.” He rolled his eyes. “Skulker, greatest hunter in the Ghost Zone. That’s what he said, anyway.”

“Oh, you definitely know him,” Valerie said, while still typing Ghost Skulker into the TikTok search bar. Sure enough, hundreds of videos appeared before her displaying the same annoying face in various poses on her screen. She clicked on one and handed her phone over to him.

His reaction made Valerie wonder if a ghost could jump out of its own skin. “What?! How? How is this possible?”

“I told you, we all know you! You’ve been around for a little while longer than a few weeks, Phantom!”

She took the phone from his fingers. Just in time too, because he looked about ready to kneel over.

Could ghosts faint? As soon as the question popped into her mind, she realized that she didn’t want to test that theory. She barely knew what to do when a human fainted, let alone a ghost. And Valerie wasn’t one to start coddling ghosts.

She sighed, then glanced around. “Hey, wanna sit and talk for a minute?” She gestured over to the tall office building nearby. “If you like heights and privacy, I know a good rooftop.”

He squinted as if trying to figure out if he knew that roof. And then Valerie remembered all the nights on patrol, ambushing Phantom on that same building.

She thought back. What had he been doing those nights?

“Sure,” he said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Right. She didn’t have time to waste on Phantom’s silly actions. She was here for Danny. And somehow, this amnesiac was connected—she was absolutely certain of it.

They flew over and touched down on the roof, Valerie’s hoverboard retracting into her boots. She looked over to see Phantom’s flight tail morph into legs before he cautiously hit the roof as if he were afraid of breaking it. He looked down curiously at the ply and gravel roof before crouching down and…touching it? With his ungloved fingers?

What the hell?

As if noticing her staring, he answered, “Everything here feels weird. It’s missing that charge.”

“Charge?”

He glanced back at Valerie. “Yeah, the charge from the ectoplasm.”

“You can feel that?”

“You can’t?”

Okay…yet another weird thing to file about ghosts. Apparently, they had some sort of sixth sense for ectoplasm.

It was like every single word out of this idiot’s mouth left Valerie with more questions. For a moment, she wondered if that was on purpose. If he was using his classic ghostly manipulation to try to distract her from asking about Danny.

But then, she looked back down at him rubbing the grains of rock and pebble between his fingers, and yeah…no freaking way this was an act. Her Phantom was an idiot, but not this stupid.

So what the hell was going on?

****

next chapter

[read all my works here]

#danny phantom #ectoimplosion2023 #phicc #my writing #the fog around us

89 notes · View notes

tunamayojazz · 5 months

Note

Love your art, any Toge/Yuuta fanfic recommendations? Thanks so much!!

hi!! thank you so much...🥺🩷🩷 and i am SO glad you asked this. i have so many!! here are the ones i read/reread more recently along with some of the tags. tried to make every rec here different from each other hehe have fun reading!!! can't help it (if you look like an angel) by glimmiks (12.4k)

tags: college au, friends to lovers, mutual pining, IKEA

THIS WAS SO FUN TO READ PLEASEEEE i absolutely love college aus so much. and you just know the 2nd years would be the most fun and chaotic as college students. their dynamic is just chefs KISS, and it's written so well here. the mutual pining in here is truly a 10-course meal and i always go back for another round.

i'm alright if you're alright by anonymous (14.2k)

tags: spoilers up to ch146, fluff, hurt/comfort, injury recovery, fix-it, love confessions, pining

post-shibuya fic excellence. i always have such a great time reading this like inuokkos really do eat so well in this fandom. yuta pining is always so great to read like he is Longingly thinking about toge at all times im cry

Magnificently Cursed by diggingupthegrave (91.2k)

tags: dark academia, magic au, magic school au, slow burn, angst, mutual pining

i will always always recommend diggingupthegrave fics. they are easily my favorite inuokko writer pls you have to read all their inuokko fics...i saved this particular one of theirs to read for much later bc i knew it was going to change my life (7 chapters ok) and boy did it do exactly that. the way they implemented canon elements into a magic setting was so so brillaint and i savored every bit of it.

Beat the Turtle Drum by CasuallyScreaming (7.4k) tags: major character death, post-shibuya incident arc, angst, minimal comfort, no shibuya spoilers read this before sleeping the other night and honestly how i managed to still fall asleep after was my body trying to protect me from full out bawling and having a mental breakdown...i don't think i've read a lot of MCD inuokko but god this one shook me to my core. almost like the feeling of loss and grief were bleeding through my phone screen. so well written and while it's definitely mostly painful, the ending....well you'll find out :')

a special occasion by Cheshire (2.5k) tags: idiots in love, established relationship, first dates this was so so cute...!!!!!!! panda: but aren't you two already dating? yuta: well yes! no. sorta, kinda. super cozy and fluffy read!!

is this how every day begins? by mitgi (5.4k) tags: roommates, living together, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, angst i will always love me a roommate au. this fic was such a lovely read and i'm actually going to reread this right after i finish writing this! there's so much to explore in inuokko's relationship and also when it's in different settings. every time i think about how the actual source material are literal crumbs, i'm just even more amazed by how writers are able to draw out the most of what info we have and write their mannerisms so well. it all feels right and so WARM UOGHHHHH

haunted by sieling_fan (3.3k)

tags: pining, hurt/comfort, canon typical angst, character study

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

you showed up just in time by diggingupthegrave (14.6k)

tags: time travel, friends to lovers, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, slight age gap

another diggingupthegrave fic that had me crying screaming shaking throwing up because god. this was so so good. the build up had me at the edge of my seat bc like oh my god what happened? what's happening?? why is this like that? @#$%^&*()_!!!!!!!!!!!!! and when it's all pieced together? oh it ended me. read this again and again for DAYS you would think i was researching it for a thesis or something. take your time reading this btw like im so serious.

okie that's all for me from now, i have so many more to rec honestly....sending out 100000000000 hearts to inuokko writers you are my roman empire....

#inuokko #ottoge #inumaki #yuuta #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fic rec #inumaki toge #okkotsu yuuta #okkotsu yuta #asks

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bippot · 1 year

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Summary: Every now and then Peacemaker has a solo mission. Whenever these happen, Vigilante has to be distracted so he doesn't make the solo into a duo. The only person that is capable of that is the girl that Adrian hates... no, that can't be right. He doesn't hate her, not really. Quite the opposite, actually.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Movie Night, Inspired by Scream (Movies), Cock Warming, Blow Jobs, Awkwardness, Ghostface Mask (Scream), Roleplay

Music Recommendation: She's Crazy but She's Mine by Alex Sparrow

Peacemaker, Adrian Chase Masterlist - here

There was something about Y/N that Adrian didn't like. She wasn't particularly mean. She wasn't incompetent. She wasn't overly uncouth. He never could put his finger on why she irked him so much. All he knew is that there was something different about her from the rest of the 11th Street Kids and that if someone were to ask him what it was, he wouldn't have the faintest idea what to pinpoint.

"Black coffee for Harcourt," Y/N said as she placed the cup in front of Emilia. Of course she left Adrian till last. She always did. "And winner of the sweetest order known to man - or rather man-child - for the third consecutive month, here is your mocha cookie crumble frappuccino with two sugars, Adrian."

His drink appeared before him with a flick of her wrist. It looked good, no matter who gave it to him. It smelled heavenly. He took a sip, closed his eyes, and sighed blissfully at the taste. For the next few hours, he'd be on a sugar high.

"Y/N, take him with you to the store," Emilia ordered. There was no way she was keeping Adrian around when he would be jumping around the room, making annoying noises and distracting everyone from their work. Plus, somehow, Y/N could contain him. She had the patience to deal with his long rambles of nonsense and endless questions. It drove most people insane.

Not Y/N though. She simply smiled and nodded. "Come on, bud. We're doing a medicine run."

"Hate it when you call me that," he muttered under his breath as he stood up from his seat with a huff. He followed behind her obediently as he drank his drink, holding the cup with both hands to ensure he didn't drop it.

As they walked out, the pair saw Chris walking towards them. He was late. Like usual. That's one thing Adrian loved about Chris - he managed to make tardiness look cool. Fuck, everything Chris did was cool to Adrian.

"Hey dude!" Adrian yelled cheerfully at his friend and waved. And since they were best friends, Chris would definitely want to know "Tonight is my night off and was thinking, totally just a thought and not something concrete, you know, I'll get some beers and we could hang-"

"Oh my God, your voice is super whiny in the morning."

Seeing the way Adrian's face fell, Y/N couldn't help but retort, "It's one in the afternoon, dickwipe. Get inside. Your coffee, which I should've spat in, is on your desk," and pulled Adrian away to her car before Chris could say something else.

The pair made it to her car in silence, but it didn't last long. As he sat and buckled in, Adrian had to chastise her, "You shouldn't talk to Peacemaker that way. He's a nice dude! And as his number two bestie, I can't see you disrespect him like that."

Rolling her eyes, Y/N started up the engine and drove off. He always did that. If it came to light that Peacemaker had been the one who killed his family, Y/N was doubtful that Adrian would put aside his admiration and try to get revenge. That wasn't the case, but sometimes she wondered why the actual fuck he idolised the big goon so much.

"Okay, buddy."

"Stop calling me that."

Silence ensued again, then Adrian started rambling about his favourite House of The Dragon character, which was Aemond by a long shot because "Not only does he have an eyepatch, like all badasses do, but he delivered one of the coldest lines of the whole show."

Obviously, he was talking about, "I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon," and Y/N knew that too as she recited the line to him.

"Yeah! Exactly!"

There it was again. That feeling that made him dislike being around her reared its head. Adrian hated it. He tried to ignore it, even when it became a real problem. Because honestly, what the hell could he possibly do anyway? Fight her? Sure, he could, but that was probably the stupidest plan Adrian had ever come up with.

Hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Where did that brain of yours go?" she asked. He didn't realise that he'd zoned out until she brought him back to reality, and he found himself staring at her. For a moment, he forgot where they were. Oh right, she was driving…And she was looking directly at him and waiting for an answer...

His throat felt dry. "Um..."

"Ade, you okay?" she prompted, concern clear in her tone.

"Sorry, I was daydreaming."

She narrowed her eyes sceptically at him but chose not to comment on it. She just shook her head, as if telling him not to worry about it, and continued on with their previous conversation, her voice soft and calming and soothing and beautiful, like honey pouring down his ears - which was a contrast to their other friends.

It was always "You fucking idiot" from Harcourt. Or, "Dude, you're so Goddamn weird" from Economos. Sometimes a "What creepy little planet do you live on?" From Adebayo. And, a guaranteed "Not now, dipshit" from Peacemaker. None of that came from Y/N. No, she spoke to Adrian in a kind, gentle tone as if he mattered, as if he were a human being, as if he weren't some freaky piece of shit who was constantly causing trouble for her and their fellow colleagues.

A smile curled onto his lips involuntarily, unbidden and without meaning to, causing the corners of his lips to raise higher than they ever should. This was what Y/N did to Adrian. And he hated it. Hated how she controlled him. How she made him smile and laugh and feel things that he had never felt before. He didn't enjoy it. At all.

But he was powerless to stop himself from doing it. Because, after all, Y/N was pretty cool and funny and cute, and she got along really well with just about anyone. And Adrian, well, Adrian didn't possess such skills. He was alone. And that was fine. He could deal with the loneliness by himself. Alone. Completely alone.

They arrived at the store at the same moment the coffee began to take effect. The first indication that the caffeine rush had started was when Adrian slammed the car door and Y/N was sure that he was only a few newton's away from breaking the window.

"Woah. Careful, tiger."

It worked. His mouth shut, and he nodded. "Sorry. Still not used to having muscles."

As soon as they came across a bin, Adrian nudged Y/N to make a big spectacle out of it when he threw his empty coffee cup at it. "Kobe," he cheered with an expectant grin. He missed the bin and ended up hitting the wall behind it instead. The sound of plastic smashing against the bricks and the unmelted ice going everywhere reverberated through the parking lot.

"Go pick it up."

He complied as quickly as he could. By the time he returned from picking the trash up, Y/N had got a basket and was inside the store, already walking to the pharmacy section. He sauntered over to her, trying to look inconspicuous while taking his sweet time so he could watch every little movement she made. It was his own personal surveillance mission.

Her hair seemed to bounce every time she stepped. Everytime. And every time the bouncing happened, Adrian felt the urge to reach out and touch it, just to watch the way strands swirled around his fingers. Like, was it as soft as it looked? He hoped it was greasy and gross and completely disgusting to touch.

When he got to her side, he stretched to grab the bandages she was trying to grab at but was failing to because she was a little too short. With an almost coy smile, he smiled down at her and tried not to have a heart attack as she gazed up at him with the most beautiful doe eyes he'd ever seen.

Those damn eyes. Did this woman have no shame? Was she purposely flirting with him? Or was she seriously oblivious to all the feelings he was having for her? Either option sucked. Either way, the fact remained that Adrian Chase was experiencing feelings.

Feelings! Of all fucking things! Gross! Uncomfortable, annoying, horrible, embarrassing, disgusting emotions! And, he wasn't sure how much he hated how much it affected him. That was the worst part. Or maybe the worst part was that deep down he may have, possibly...there was a chance - no matter how slim - that he sort of liked having that weird fuzzy feeling in his brain whenever he saw Y/N. Maybe. Just maybe. A tiny bit. Not much, of course. A smidgeon. Enough, however, to be alarming.

"Ah, my hero," she teased, bumping his shoulder lightly with hers, and then proceeded to carry on down the aisle. "Do you want the fun band-aids?"

Scratch that. It's actually a lot. A colossal amount of like. Who knows, maybe he even adored her attention in the way a heroin addict is fond of spoons. Or heroin.

"Is that a question you even need to ask?"

Chuckling, she dropped two packs of Hello Kitty plasters into the basket. That basket was quickly taken from her hands and the handles were soon nestled in the crook of Adrian's arm.

"About later on - you know, what you were saying to Peacemaker - I'm not doing anything. If you want someone to hang out with, I'm free," she offered, and he looked slightly startled as she did.

There was no way someone was willingly going to invite him to spend time with them.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be sick of me by then."

"Impossible," she scoffed, shaking her head at the idea. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm quite fond of you, Adrian."

And there it was again! The butterflies, not the alien body snatcher kind either. His heart was doing that stupid flip that it did whenever she said words like this. And that was why he needed to change the subject before they said something stupid that neither of them would be able to take back.

"Can I get some candy?"

"Sure."

Skipping to the confectionary aisle, Adrian was quick to survey the sweets as if it were the most important decision he could ever make in his entire life. Y/N stood beside him, an adoring smile on her face as she observed his antics but soon felt her phone buzz in her pocket and diverted her attention to that.

Boss Bitch: Run distraction tonight. Solo mission.

Adrian crouched down to get a closer inspection and almost lost his balance, but, like second nature, Y/N placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. That simple touch did strange things to Adrian. But Y/N was oblivious to the effect she had and even went further to move her fingers to rest on the top of his head, stroking gently through his hair as she texted with Harcourt.

Peacemaker had solo missions every now and again. As did Vigilante. Though Vigilante did have a habit of intruding Peacemaker's solo missions. Why not? He wanted to spend as much time with his good buddy as he could. And a helping hand was always good, right?

Since Adebayo went back to her dog business and Economos had been promoted to be the warden of Belle Reve, Y/N was added to replace them both. Yet, there had become a new dynamic between the current four members of the 11th Street Kids.

Emilia had become an unofficial handler of Peacemaker. Y/N had done the same for Vigilante. The women were dignified badasses in their own right, but the other half of their squad were dignified idiots who needed, for lack of a better word, babysitting. So, often, Y/N was tasked with distracting Adrian for the entire night if Chris had a mission.

"Wanna have a movie night tonight? I've been planning to rewatch all the Scream's in prep for the new one," Y/N suggested, giving his head a little scratch so he'd pay attention to her words.

"Hell yeah! Fucking love those movies!" he cheered, craning his head back to beam up at her with the brightest smile on his face, making Y/N chuckle softly at his excitement. There was something endearing about a man who was so willing to show true, unfiltered enthusiasm.

After that, he gathered way too many snacks that he knew were perfect for their upcoming movie night and followed Y/N around with so much pep in his step. The rest of the day passed by in a blur, the hours passing in a flash as he waited for work to be over so he could get the frickin party started.

He'd been talking nonstop, which he usually did, and Y/N did a lot of nodding as he told her all sorts of trivia about the franchise. Sometimes she zoned out, not because what he was saying wasn't interesting - it was - but because he had a habit of getting the words out so fast that they would blur together and it took so much focus to hear them, break them down and understand that she stopped trying all together.

"Roman is actually a badass. He did all that shit by himself, y'know? Yeah, 3 is not the best and Jill is the most entertaining, but Roman not only was the singular ghost face - a real independent dude - but he was the mastermind behind Billy and Stu so that's some crazy planning! Although in the original script Angelina was supposed to help him out with it so you can take that into account if you want to..."

Her head fell onto her hand, watching as he talked and gestured animatedly with his arms. She found herself staring at him with a small smile forming on her lips, the warmth in her chest rising to her cheeks when he finally paused.

"What?" he asked, looking up from his hands and meeting her gaze, a slight flush of pink staining his cheeks as well.

"Nothing," she replied, shaking her head.

"Sorry, I was boring you. I get it. I'll -' He mimed pulling a zip over his lip, but still carried on talking. "I'll shut up, sorry. Peacemaker tells me all the time that I just go on and on and on and-"

"Please keep talking, Adrian. I'm enjoying listening to your voice."

Bullshit. He called bullshit. Complete. Only an idiot would fall for a trick like that.

"Yeah right," he scoffed dismissively, glancing away as he twirled his car keys around his pointer finger. "I promise I won't talk throughout the movie. I promise."

They'd watched the odd movie together before so she knew this was not entirely true. He often liked to add commentary and facts along with the film. Films were the easiest way to distract him. She was saving the Lord of the Rings marathon for a really important Peacemaker mission. And the Twilight marathon was for a life or death mission.

"I just need to shower and get changed. I'll be at yours in forty. Sound good?"

"Sounds good. Like, so good," he agreed readily. "See you in a few."

As he watched her walk towards her car, he let out a long breath and tried not to think about the fact that it would be just them. Just the two of them in his small apartment, the lights low and popcorn popping as they sat curled together on the couch as he tried his absolute best to make her laugh. He'd make sure she paid attention to him and not a movie. Every single bit of her focus needed to be on him, or he'd die. Actually die.

God, was he pathetic. Utterly pathetic. This crush was too strong. Too intense. It was a disease. And it didn't matter how hard he fought against it. It simply refused to leave his system and left him feeling weak. Weak and helpless and utterly alone in the vastness of the cruel existence she'd doomed him to live within for the foreseeable future.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to feel down about it. He was cursed, yes, but a life without Y/N in it had been ten times worse than his current lovesick one. Ten times worse. Maybe ten thousand times worse.

Once he arrived at his apartment, it was go time. Adrian hurried to clear the odd bits of tat he'd left out and found the few comforts he had to throw on the couch to make it seem like this place looked lived in. His house was spartan and impersonal because he rarely spent time there. And due to the fact that it was a small place anyway - a tiny kitchen/living room, bathroom, bedroom, that's it - there wasn't a lot of space for him to have a bunch of shit. The majority of shelves were lined with DVDs and cupboards stuffed full of weapons.

Between his job and patrol, he only used his house to shower, jerk off and watch tv. (usually in that order). His car was the central hub for his life. The Vigilante mobile was where he ate, napped, changed clothes, and watched stupid YouTube videos to entertain himself when patrol got particularly boring.

Now, however, he had to pretend that he was a normal, dateable person instead of an insomniac workaholic. So much for the 'I need to impress her' speech that he gave himself whenever these movie nights happened. Y/N never seemed to mind his ineptitude at interior design, though.

There was one piece of hair that suddenly wanted to drift right in the middle of his forehead and it was pissing Adrian off so much as it would bounce back as soon as he swiped it away. The moment he went to pick up the scissors to really deal with it, his doorbell went off and stopped the whole new haircut moment from happening.

With no time to waste, Adrian swung the door wide open to reveal a very comfy looking Y/N wearing a pair of sweats and a loose fitting cardigan, one hand stuffed inside her pocket, a bottle of wine in the other one. He only realised he had been examining each aspect of her until she teased, "You gonna let me in?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," he stuttered, stepping aside, his brain not yet coming up with a reply that came close to sounding cool. What else was new?

Y/N breezed past him, greeting him with a quick squidge on his bicep as she made her way into the kitchen. He stared after her for a few seconds before following suit. As she set the bottle of wine down on the counter beside him, his eyes narrowed curiously as he asked, "Wine?"

Wine tasted too much like acid for him to like. Had all these adults lying about how nice wine had been his entire life? Because every time he tried it, it was as if someone had blended a battery and placed it before him as if to say 'Voila! Why don't we take grape juice, keep it in a jug until all the good things about the taste are removed and then pretend that it's better now?!'

Beer was just as bad. Does alcohol have to taste bad? Adrian thought. It would be nice if there was liquid out there that would make him look like an adult when he drank it - let's be real, cocktails gave a tendency to look stupid, especially if there's little umbrellas or sparklers in them - but be actually nice to consume.

Almost as if she had read his thoughts, Y/N announced, "Supposedly, it tastes like cotton candy. I was curious," and began unwrapping the foil around the top and pulling at the cork until a pop was heard, and she smiled widely, pleased at the sound.

And, since he hadn't moved to get them glasses - Jesus, of course he didn't own wine glasses - she took a swig from the bottle and held it out for Adrian to do the same. He hesitantly complied and took a small sip. Surprisingly, a pleasant and sweet taste spread through his mouth, which was something he'd never expected, and he let out an approving hum.

"Good?"

"Yeah, good. Really good," he answered with a nod and handed the bottle back, wiping his mouth clean on his sleeve. This wine didn't make him gag. He could appreciate that. "What food do you wanna order? There's a new Mexican place in town. I know you like Mexican so..." He trailed off unsurely, his hand searching for the menu he'd picked up just in case this moment ever happened.

Once he found it, he handed it to her and watched as her eyes lit up. "Oooooh!" She grinned happily, opening up the page and scanning the options.

Adrian observed in silence as she evaluated every picture and mumbled to herself about what they should order, occasionally pausing to look up at Adrian to check if he also liked the dish. He nodded and hummed and said the occasional thing when necessary, but he felt a little awkward standing around and guided her towards his couch so they could sit.

While Y/N phoned and ordered, Adrian busied himself by putting the movie on and neatly ordering the next consecutive movies on his coffee table. It was unneeded, but he got some weird kick from seeing them perfectly in order. Who knows why.

Then the call was done, and they could start, as you usually do, with the first movie in the franchise, Scream. They sat shoulder to shoulder, occasionally passing the wine between them. Adrian was a little stiff at first, his back rigid against the cushions, but eventually calmed down and started leaning into Y/N more with every passing minute. Her shoulder felt soft against his cheek. He'd soon come to realise that.

But, his annoyance spiked once the delivery driver knocked on the door, thus causing his head to no longer be resting against her. He was suddenly bereft of Y/N's warmth and quickly decided that killing the delivery man might have been a good idea. No. No. He couldn't do that. Instead, he took a breath, got to his feet, and retrieved their food with a grumpy pout on his face. So what if he was a little rude to this one random guy? At least he didn't kill him.

The moment his butt hit his sofa again, he dug right in, shovelling the food into his mouth faster than he thought possible. Honestly, he forgot when he last had a proper meal. The last week or so, he'd been on patrol a lot and took very minimal breaks for snacks.

"There's a common theory that you can tell if it's Billy or Stu behind the mask by the way they hold their knife," Adrian mumbled through a mouthful of food, his words barely comprehensible. "Stu holds the knife with two hands over his head, while Billy holds it with one hand and gets really into it..." He continued to ramble on about random facts about the film while eating, unable to stop himself. Since Y/N wasn't stopping him, why would he?

Y/N was nodding along, listening intently. Her eyes shone with interest, and her lips were slightly curved upwards. It was weird. Being listened to was weird for Adrian. He liked it, but he hated it too. Whenever he spoke and it fell on deaf ears, that was fine because his words wouldn't really amount to anything. They didn't matter since the other person wasn't going to remember them anyway.

Often, he lied and made up facts and tried to spread misinformation as a way to entertain himself. If his words held no weight, he might as well make them fun to say. He told the truth around Y/N, though.

When she looked at him with those beautiful eyes and listened to him talk without interrupting, he always felt a need to share himself. Share what he knew, what he found interesting in the hopes she'd find it interesting too. He liked to think that she did find it entertaining, and, most importantly, he liked her attention.

Even when his words were nothing special, even when he had no use for them anymore, Y/N still cared enough about him to listen, to pay attention to what he had to say. That was a feeling he couldn't help but treasure.

Finishing the final bite of his food, he crumpled up the wrapper and threw it at the bin. "Kobe!" This time, it went perfectly in. Then, satisfied with himself, he flopped back onto the couch pillow with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling and letting his mind wander.

Wouldn't it be so crazy right now if I, like, kissed Y/N? And she'd totally swoon and say, 'Oh Adrian, I think you're so cool and hot and would make a great ghostface. Huh, I bet you'd be even better than Roman.' Then we'd really start making out, and she'd be soooo impressed by how big my dick is. 'Why does Peacemaker call you thimble?' and I'd be all like 'He's just jealous of how sexy I am' and she'd giggle and agree, and that's how it would go down.

"Hey bud, you okay?" Y/N's voice cut through his musings, breaking him out of his trance and startling him for a second before he remembered where he was. Right. Y/N was beside him. Thinking of her in such a way was kinda weird when she was right there. Kinda. His gaze shifted to her, noting that she was looking back at him with a raised eyebrow.

A small shy smile spread across his face as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yea, yeah. I'm alright." He paused for a beat before he added, "What about you? Are you...okay?"

"...I think so."

"Good. That's good. Yeah, y'know, just say the word if not cause I'll totally... I'll do whatever I can to make you happy, like whatever. Need me to kill someone and I'll fucking do it, no question... just say the word, Y/N, whatever it is..." He trailed off nervously, scratching at his cheek and trying to sound as casual as he possibly could as he added, "I... I'd do anything for you."

Well, that came out of his mouth. Shit. Fuck. Oh fuck. Shit shit shit. There was no way, no fucking way that she would misunderstand the sentiment there. Panic instantly erupted throughout every single cell of his body.

Yet, the expression on her face softened. She leaned towards him, brushing that stray lock of his hair that had been annoying him so much away from his forehead, placing her fingers gently underneath his chin and tilting his head upwards. He blinked owlishly, watching her, waiting for her to speak.

Just as it seemed as if she was going to say something heartfelt, the infamous garage door death appeared on screen and Y/N's eyes flickered over to it briefly before settling back on his face, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

The sincerity behind his reply was evident.

"Pass me the blanket then."

Thank god. Adrian relaxed, let out a chuckle, and obliged, pulling the white fluffy blanket that hung beside him on the armrest and tossing it towards her. She caught it deftly and draped it over herself, holding the corner out to him expectantly.

"I don't bite."

"Hm. Sure ya don't," he laughed, moving closer and taking the fabric to wrap it around himself. He glanced sideways at her for a split second, catching a glimpse of her smile before she turned her face to the screen.

Huh, this had gone way better than he ever expected, and the relief he felt was undeniable. He sighed softly, inconspicuously sliding an arm on the back of the couch and subtly brushing his fingers over her shoulder. His heart hammered in his chest. He could feel his pulse racing and his cheeks burning bright red.

This was nice. It definitely was. The silence, the warmth, the comfortable atmosphere, everything. He never wanted this to end. He never wanted it to leave. But he knew it eventually would have to go, so he pushed those thoughts aside and rested his eyes on the screen, ignoring the pounding in his chest and the sudden butterflies that filled his stomach.

Scream one ended, and he'd managed to fully wrap his arm around her shoulders, resting comfortably on her without any misguided belief that she was oblivious to his moves.

All throughout two, he occasionally poked at her cheek or pulled at her ear, trying to divert her attention to him. Every time she'd smile and look at him from the corner of her eye, only to return to the TV and pretend to focus on the screen. Then, when he had done it enough times to actually be irritating, she caught his hand before he made contact with her cheek and placed her fingers between his own, lacing their fingers together.

Rather abruptly, he posed the question, "Who is your favourite ghostface?" and she took the time to ponder her answer. As Y/N thought, she gently tapped her fingertips against his knuckles, and that unconscious movement brought a blush to his cheeks.

"Jill is the obvious answer. She's a girl boss, and I think - I have no idea if this is a popular theory or anything - that she got Charlie to do most of the killing because she wanted to seem as innocent as possible. Only Charlie and Trevor died by her hand."

"Hmmm..." He hummed, thinking it over for a second. "That's actually pretty smart."

"Yeah, I'm a genius." Her playful tone was clear. "What about you?"

"Stu, I guess, cause he's the funniest. Or Roman. Or maybe Mickey since he was charming despite it all."

"And handsome."

He nodded and hummed in agreement but felt a brief pang of jealousy that only got worse when she admitted, "Mickey was definitely the hottest ghostface." Yet, it turned into a sly grin when she added "Though I gotta say all of them are pretty hot... that mask does something...something, I don't know what, to me."

"Even Mrs Loomis?"

"Especially Mrs Loomis," she replied with a smirk.

Ah, a plan was formulating. He just had to wait for a moment alone to execute it. After all, it wasn't every day he had the exact thing he needed to fulfil her wishes.

That time came sooner than anticipated when she excused herself to the bathroom as Adrian was in the process of putting Scream 3 on. They were already three and a half hours into the whole marathon, and taking a break maybe was beneficial, Adrian thought.

Was it a prank? Or a seduction technique? That would all depend on her reaction.

Y/N finished up in the bathroom and planned on moving back to the sofa and, most importantly, back to the comfortable embrace she'd been in. When she arrived at the couch, Adrian was nowhere to be found. Had he left? Was he in the kitchen getting more snacks? She didn't see him in the kitchen, and his house wasn't really big enough to hide in. Sure, they'd turned the lights down to ensure they got an 'authentic' cinema experience, but it wasn't that dark.

The only way she would have minor trouble when being able to see him was if he was wearing all black. He hadn't been. It was what he usually wore: blue jeans and a nerdy t-shirt.

"Ade? Where'd you run off to?"

She looked around but she saw no signs of him anywhere. Weird. After patting herself down to find her phone - which was in her backpocket like usual - she went to send him a quick text but was interrupted by someone yanking her back into their chest and a knife pressed against her throat.

Right next to Y/N's ear, she heard a very distinctive voice ask, "What's your favourite scary movie?" and she relaxed a bit in their arms. She should've guessed he'd have the whole ensemble, mask and all.

"Probably Jack and Jill, that Adam Sandler flick, god, it was awful. Just torture, if you ask me."

There was a robotic snort omitted from the mask.

"What about you, Mr Ghostface, what movie scares you?"

"17 Again. I'd kill myself if I had to revert to my teenage self."

Shifting her head to get a better look at the mask, she unconsciously bit down her bottom lip as she took it in, her eyes trailing all over it as if she was studying every inch of it. And when he held the tip of the blade under her chin to tilt her head up, there was no denying that she gulped rather thickly.

"You feeling a bit woozy there?" He smirked beneath the mask, leaning in towards her, the tip of the blade grazing along her jawline. She couldn't help but shiver slightly but didn't move back from the touch, keeping her gaze locked onto the mask.

Some small part of her brain was ringing alarm bells. Murder happy dude who likes to wear a mask is an apt description for both Vigilante and Ghostface. But, she told it to shut the hell up, to shut the fuck up and just go ahead and enjoy yourself, right?! It was Adrian, after all. He'd had plenty of opportunities to murder her before and hadn't taken it.

"Maybe I am," she replied in a breathless tone , her heart starting to thump loudly inside her chest. His smirk widened into a satisfied grin, and he cocked his head to the side.

Wordlessly, he let her out of the grapple and sat back on the sofa as if nothing had happened, leaving her slightly confused, somewhat disappointed, and very flustered. He reached over and grabbed the remote from where he placed it on the coffee table earlier and pressed play on the next movie. He didn't look over at her, nor did he acknowledge what had just happened at all as she took her place beside him.

Tension was thick in the air and neither dared to utter a single word. Y/N was watching him out of the corner of her eyes because, as safe as she felt, it was still weird to have ghostface right next to you while that same icon was killing people on screen.

Adrian was gathering the courage to make a move. An actual move and not one of those juvenile tricks that he'd got away with earlier. With his head facing the TV, his hand found the drawstring of her sweatpants and he undid the bow with dexterous precision. Once the strings came loose, he slid his hand slowly through the opening, letting his fingers trail along the fabric and lightly brush against her inner thigh.

Y/N inhaled sharply, not daring to take her eyes off the screen, afraid that if she moved, he would disappear and she'd wake up in bed with a crick in her neck from such a wonderful dream. It seemed surreal. It seemed too good to be true.

His hand travelled further up the hem of her panties and dipped to touch the soft skin underneath; she closed her eyes, her heart beating faster as his forefinger started a gentle circling motion on her clit. Slowly. He was giving her a chance to stop him if she wanted to. But she didn't want to stop him. Oh God, not at all. If anything, she wanted Adrian to go even further.

So, in the hopes he'd get the memo, Y/N shifted her butt closer to the edge of the couch and moved her hips to ensure that he'd have access to do whatever he pleased. When he kept torturing her with his movements, she tilted her head to the side to look at him.

"Eyes on the screen."

Her gaze remained on the mask.

"Watch the movie."

Still, she hadn't moved.

"You deaf?" he teased, using his free hand to grab at her chin and yank it back towards the TV. He could feel her face growing warm at his touch, and that made his lips curl into a smile behind the mask. Her eyes were locked onto the screen, and his thumb stroked the underside of her bottom lip. "I said," he repeated slowly, as if to emphasise his point, "Are you deaf? Answer me."

"No! No. I... I can hear you perfectly." Her voice sounded breathy, strained and filled with excitement. His smile grew wider as he watched her. "Just, um... distracted."

She licked her suddenly dry lips, and a flash of light caught his eye. The glow coming from her phone illuminated the dark room. He took hold of the device in question.

"The boss wants to talk to you, you wanna talk to her?" She shook her head and tried to snatch the phone out of his hands but was unsuccessful. He chuckled softly as he accepted the call and held it against Y/N's ear.

"L/N, Peacemaker's mission was a success," Harcourt began, sounding relieved. "You are free of Vigilante watch for the night."

"Oh, okay. Good to know," Y/N replied with far too much poise for Adrian's liking, taking the phone out of his hand.

Without warning, he slid his fingers down to her entrance and pushed his middle finger into her core, making the poor girl gasp.

"You okay there, Y/N?" Harcourt asked in concern.

"Hrmm, yeah. Fine." Y/N cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. This was definitely NOT how she pictured her distraction to go.

How the turntables.

Harcourt was unconvinced, Y/N could tell. "If you say so..." There was some rustling as if the person behind the phone was in a mini scuffle, then Emilia added in a huff, "Hang on, Chris wants to say something."

Hearing his buddy's name, Adrian decided to get bolder and began fucking two fingers into her, curling them in an effort to create the most obscene noises he could possibly imagine. Y/N bit down hard onto her lower lip so she wouldn't let out the most pathetic whine ever known to mankind.

"H-hey Chris."

"Is Adrian still with you?"

"Yeah," she answered breathlessly, daring to look across at Adrian again.

"Tell him to buy a four pack and meet me at my trailer."

Underneath the mask, Adrian was a mess. Y/N was letting him fingerfuck her and Peacemaker wanted to hangout? It was such an awesome day. Although, given his current situation, he was a bit preoccupied to give in to Peacemaker wishes.

"I'm busy," Adrian replied curtly. "Tell him."

Y/N shakily nodded and did as he said. "Ade says he is busy. Can't hang out tonight. Sorry!" Then, she quickly hung up and let out all the noises she'd been holding back until now. Adrian chuckled darkly at the sight, his smirk widening when he noticed she'd gone red, flushed with passion, and was writhing around on the sofa, coming undone just because of his fingers. His. And it only spurred him on more.

"Either you take your clothes off, or I'll cut you out of them," he threatened, his smirk turning into an evil grin as he trailed his fingers up along her thighs. She squealed when he hit a particularly sensitive spot with his middle finger, arching her body slightly upwards. "Which one will it be?"

Doing a mental price check for everything she was wearing, Y/N came to a decision. She held up her forefinger, and he stopped, letting her undo the clasp of her bra, wiggling it out from under her shirt and tossing it somewhere on the ground.

"It was an expensive bra," she shrugged with a grin, "The rest of my clothes? They are far more disposable."

For the first time in a really long time, Adrian's hand was slightly shaky as he held the knife. Adrenaline, lust, and a fear that because he couldn't fit his glasses under the mask that he might accidentally hurt her, flowed through every inch of his being as he pushed her so she'd lie with her back against the couch cushions.

Slowly and in, what he hoped would be, a sensual manner, he dragged the blade down Y/N's chest and stomach, not enough to cut the fabric yet, but enough to make her breath stagger and tremble in anticipation. Y/N bit down hard upon her lower lip, her eyes wide open and pleading at him above her.

Adrian placed his knees on either side of her thighs, bracing himself with one arm, and he gently booped her nose with the tip of the knife. Her face scrunched up cutely, and a small giggle fell from her lips.

"Can't believe I didn't know you're such a dirty girl, L/N." He trailed the knife down her cheek and down her neck, enjoying the way it elicited moans from the woman underneath him. As he neared her collarbone, he glanced up. A mischievous glint in his eye as he finally put some force in movements to cut through her shirt, revealing her breasts in all their glory to him. Adrian stared at the sight like a starving man who had just spotted the last morsel of food on a plate.

Before he had the chance to do anything else, however, the familiar sound of someone unlocking his front door could be heard. Adrian quickly did up the first button of Y/N's cardigan, threw the knife onto the coffee table, and flopped down on her to hide any glimpse of skin from Peacemaker.

It obviously was Chris. Who else had a key? The dead Chase's?

"Vee, what the hell are you doing that is more important than hanging out with -" Chris stopped as he surveyed the scene in front of him. "What are you wearing, dude? Is that a dress?"

"It's a robe."

"What?"

Tugging the mask off to reveal his flushed, sweaty face, Adrian repeated, "A robe. A ghostface robe."

"You two are fucking weird," Chris commented as he leaned forward and plucked the mask from Adrian's hands to examine it further, and then proceeded to throw it over the back of a nearby armchair. "Well, this looks boring. I'd rather slow dance with Bill Cosby than spend time watching you two do... well, whatever that is." Then he gave Adrian one final once over and grinned. "Text me a rating out of ten if you hit that."

Y/N rolled her eyes at Chris's comment while Adrian simply glared daggers at his friend. This definitely was killing his game. Fuck, he didn't even have the mask on anymore. The illusion was broken. Would she even want to go forward with him as just Adrian?

"Peace out, assholes!"

As quickly as he'd arrived, Peacemaker had left them alone again. Adrian tried his best to avoid eye contact with Y/N, which was proving difficult as her eyes seemed glued to him. Shit. Here comes the inevitable repulsion.

"Ade?"

"Hmm...?"

"Hey," she cooed and gently tilted his chin so he would finally face her. "Do you want to stop? We don't have to if you don't want to."

He sighed. "I want to." And he did. He desperately, desperately wanted to continue, to continue and explore every inch of this beautiful woman beneath him. To taste her lips, to feel her softness, to feel her warmth. He wanted everything about this moment. "Do y-you want to?"

"I do." Y/N gave him a bright smile, a genuine one that reached her eyes, making Adrian feel like 'Yeah! This could happen!' so he shot to his feet and went to retrieve the mask. But, she caught his wrist and stopped him in his tracks. "I'd like to see you without that thing on. To see your handsome face. Is that okay?"

Dumbly, he nodded, still trying to wrap his head around what she was saying. Had he been hearing this right? She wanted to see his face? While they fucked? He hadn't fucked someone as Adrian in a really long time. Vigilante was the guy who did all that. The last time Adrian did this as himself was...probably the time he lost his virginity.

She got to her knees on the couch, her kneecaps resting by the edge of the arm of the sofa, to be tall enough to cradle his cheek in her palm and caress it softly. Adrian closed his eyes, savouring every sensation she provided him with. His heart felt as though it was beating double speed, his blood pumping furiously in his veins, his lungs burning for air.

What was happening? Why was he feeling so goddamn good? Did her touch affect him this much? How could it? He'd never experienced love before. Was this how other people felt? Were humans supposed to experience happiness like this? Was he supposed to feel like this, to be overwhelmed by emotions, to want things more often, to crave more and more?

"Was it warm under the mask?" she asked in a quiet, playful whisper.

"Always is."

That made her grin wider and he couldn't help but return it. Her thumb ran slowly over his bottom lip, brushing across the soft skin lightly, teasingly. Adrian let out a light, shaky sigh and opened his eyes.

"Can you kiss me? I'd kiss you, but I can't seem to get the nerve to," he pleaded softly, looking at her shyly, his eyes full of hope.

In spite of all his doubts, she let out a giggle and did as he asked. She cupped her hand around his jaw and started at the mole on his cheekbone, kissing her way down his cheek until she finally reached his lips. And there was no hesitation, not even a single thought, as he reciprocated the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist firmly while her fingers threaded through his hair.

They parted after a moment, yet Y/N was quickly drawn back in when Adrian's large hand drifted to her ass and pulled her tighter to his body. He deepened the kiss, pressing his lips firmer against hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth boldly, taking possession of every corner of it greedily.

The longer they kissed, the more intense their kisses became until their lips were swollen and puffy and red. But Adrian found that he didn't care at all. He had never felt so alive; so free. And he knew without a doubt that this was the only woman who could possibly make him feel like this.

"You gonna take your 'dress' off?" she teased, giggling as he nuzzled his face into her neck and bit at her shoulder in response to that comment. "Ouch!" She exclaimed and laughed, trying to push him away, but Adrian wouldn't allow it. He kept hold of her waist, refusing to let go as he pressed his lips to every inch of her neck and shoulders.

When he finally pulled his face away, Adrian could hardly keep himself standing upright as he tugged the ghostface robe over his head and tossed it aside. He'd learnt that it was insufferably hot under there one Halloween and didn't make the same mistake of wearing his t-shirt and jeans underneath again.

Standing there in just his underwear, he suddenly got a little self-conscious and held his hands over the very obvious bulge forming between his legs. Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and she chuckled at the adorable sight before reaching out to take his hands away from his groin and lead them to her hair.

"Keep my hair out of my face, will you?"

Once again, he nodded as if there wasn't a single thought in his head and never had been, and obliged, collecting her hair in a makeshift ponytail. Although, he almost lost all grip on it as soon as she leaned forward to plant a smooch on his clothed cock before pulling away.

"Can I pull your underwear down? They look awfully tight," she whispered huskily, her fingers playing with the waistband of his boxers.

"Uh... yes, yes please. If you want."

"I do want." With that she pulled the fabric down his thighs to reveal his naked, erect cock, waiting eagerly for her touch. "May I?"

"Please."

Gently, Y/N wrapped her hand around him and squeezed, causing him to emit a low groan. Her eyes flickered upwards, meeting his as her tongue darted out to lick the head of his cock. Her touch made him feel like he was falling apart at the seams, but he had to remind himself to remain calm. He needed to stay strong and not cum in two seconds because that's fucking lame.

She'd think he was such a loser if he did that.

Adrian's confidence built as she began running her mouth along his length. He moaned loudly as he gripped her hair in order to ground himself, feeling so dizzy that he thought it might be the alcohol for a brief second. Then her mouth was closing around him, and, yeah, it was definitely the blowjob that was making him lightheaded.

"Oh fuck," he grunted, clenching his teeth tightly so that he wouldn't moan any louder. It would be so embarrassing if she heard him like that!

Wait a minute. Y/N had often told him that she wanted to hear whatever he had to say. Did that extend to whatever noises he'd make too? She had been the one to offer what was happening. Soo... A groan was let loose from his lips to test the waters.

Around his cock, she moaned and took him deeper into her throat. He wasn't a scientist by any means, but that seemed like a clear example of cause and effect. So he repeated the sound, a little louder this time, eliciting another loud moan from her.

This revelation relaxed him about the whole thing. Before he'd been preoccupied with seeming totally normal, and now he could enjoy the fact that a pretty girl was sucking his dick and enjoying it too.

That was all the reason he needed to move his hips and start fucking her mouth faster and harder. His hands bunched up her hair and tangled themselves in it as he praised, "Fuck, you're great. You’re driving me insane, holy shit. I wanna bruise that throat so badly. Can I do that, baby? Please?" He begged desperately, unable to hide the desire in his voice.

"Yes," she breathed heavily, regaining some semblance of composure before she gave it over completely to him.

Soon, he was a babbling mess of words and lustful rants that sounded like, "Take it all… Ahhh… fuck… you’re so beautiful… You always are... on your knees… swallowing my cock down… I'm desperate… so fucking desperate… I need you so bad…" He continued to ramble incoherently, losing control over his thoughts and actions as he let his orgasm roll over him and explode inside her mouth.

He could feel his entire body shudder uncontrollably, his breath short, and his balls tightening up to a point where he was sure they might break. Her hands caressing up and down his thighs were the only thing grounding him and keeping him from toppling over.

Finally, he regained some sense of equilibrium and came to his senses. He looked at Y/N and found her smiling sweetly at him. He couldn't resist the urge to laugh and gently brush away the tears in the corners of her eyes with the pad of his thumbs.

"Sorry, uh, sorry if I was a bit rough. Didn't mean to," he stammered anxiously, embarrassed.

"I liked it."

"Really?"

"Mhm..."

From the TV, a gunshot rang out as Sidney, in her attempt to rescue a bound and gagged Gale and Dewey, fired at Ghostface, and Adrian couldn't help but turn to watch. "The unmasking is just about to happen, this is always my favourite part," he said excitedly and planted his ass back down on the couch, absentmindedly making grabby hands at her until she got the memo.

But before she sat, Y/N removed her clothes to remind him that, yeah, he had chosen to watch Scream 3 (the worst one) instead of continuing their intimate moment, and perched on his thighs, her back resting against his chest.

"Oh hi, hi there," he grinned sheepishly, wrapping an arm around her stomach to pull her closer against his chest and resting his chin on her shoulder. She rolled her eyes playfully and snuggled further into him.

It took no time at all for the skin on skin contact to rile him up once again. She felt his member twitch impatiently against her backside as he rubbed his nose against her neck and shoulder, letting out an involuntary growl as he inhaled sharply.

With very minimal efforts, Adrian pushed Y/N forward a few inches and positioned his cock against her opening, slowly pulling her back down on him. She gasped at the sudden invasion but she adjusted to the sensation.

Yet, he didn't move just yet. He returned his gaze to the screen and tried to pretend that he wasn't literally inside her, which was difficult considering how many dreams he'd had about this moment. He had dreamed of being inside Y/N countless times, but this moment seemed more than perfect. The warmth of her body wrapped snugly around him, the softness of her skin, her intoxicating smell surrounding him; everything about this scene was blissful.

Y/N was squirming and wriggling on top of him, apparently eager for more action. He smiled softly as he moved his hands up and down her waist, rubbing soothing circles against her sides and trying to keep her still so he didn't give in. It was a test of restraint, Adrian thought to himself. His restraint. That didn't mean she couldn't have fun.

Not even his willpower was enough to stop his hand from wandering back down to her clit. His movements were at a leisure pace, there mostly to rile her up rather than give her exactly what she wanted. He wanted her to beg him to give in, to drive her wild.

And then suddenly, the movie was over. Adrian had been looking at the movie, but he hadn't really been watching. Sure, he'd seen it a thousand times before. Roman's the killer. He's Sidney's half-brother. Yadda yadda ya. Sidney stabs him. Bye-bye, Roman. Hello, a proposal by Dewey. Then, the credits roll.

Just as he hoped, she turned to face him and gave him the widest, most beautifully pleading doe eyes she could muster. He swallowed hard, licking his dry lips as he stared deep into her gaze, completely mesmerised by the sight before him.

"You gonna fuck me?" Y/N whined softly, a sultry look on her face that only caused him to tighten his hold on her.

"Is that what you want?"

"Uh-huh."

"Gotta say it out loud."

"Please. I want it now. I need it now. Don't tease me anymore," she pouted, giving him a playful glare as she bit her lower lip. The way she looked at him made his heart race.

He knew it wouldn't take long for him to give in anyway.

"You need me to fuck you, huh, baby?" She nodded eagerly. "Oh, I'll fuck you real good, so good that you'll totally fall in love with me and never want me to leave. Like ever. I promise."

"That's a bold promise."

"I'm a bold guy."

Tonight, he'd been especially bold.

In one swift move, he hoisted her up and dropped her face down onto the pillow, positioning himself behind her. With his knee, he nudged her legs open a little wider and lined himself up with her entrance, but before he eased himself in, he declared, "This isn't going to be a one time thing. If we do this, if you give me this pussy, it's mine. It belongs to me.If we cross this line, you're mine, you realise that?"

A beat. He paused, waiting for her response.

"Yeah," she whispered, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Good answer."

His cock slid inside her, stretching and finding itself home inside of her. She welcomed him fully and let out a gasp. At first it was slow and deliberate. They were both adjusting to each other, getting used to the feeling of finally fucking each other after who knows how long of teasing.

Eventually, as time went on, Adrian's movements became faster, his strokes became heavier and more urgent, his rambling growing sloppier. "Atta girl, holy fuck. We could've been doing this the whole fucking time! Just think of all those nights I spent fantasising about this." He moaned out loud as the sensations began to build up in his gut. "Just think of all those nights I spent imagining you underneath me, panting and begging me to fuck you."

A low rumble escaped his throat as he started moving faster. "God, it feels good. You feel so good." His breathing was heavy, uneven, and laboured. "So tight... so warm... I can't get enough of you."

"Fuck, don't stop moving, please."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he muttered, leaning down and sucking a mark on her neck roughly. He moved up to her ear and whispered, "Do you like feeling my control over you? Tell me. Tell me you like it. Tell me you want my cum. Tell me you need me."

Y/N whimpered, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Oh my god, yes! I like it. Love it. Want you. Want to come," she breathed out in between grunts and moans.

Adrian pinned her wrists behind back while kissing every inch of exposed flesh along her jawline, tracing the bone tongue and sucking harshly on her skin. She arched into him, her moans becoming louder, needy, and more intense. She was close. So fucking close. And he knew it was only a matter of moments before he would follow. He felt it in his gut. In his loins. In his bones.

"Fuck Adrian! Oh shit."

There it was.

"Oh god… holy fuck… you’re getting tighter… So close, baby. I'm so - Fuck! Can I cum inside you, please? … Fuck, please?" Adrian begged frantically, his voice higher than he'd ever heard before.

"Yes. Yes! Please, babe, please!"

Another couple of thrusts was all it took for him to fall apart, releasing into her with a strangled cry and gripping tightly onto her hips as he came undone. He buried his face in the back of her shoulder and went limp, falling into a sea of giggles and kisses as he held her close in his arms.

"Do you think Harcourt and Peacemaker fuck like rabbits when they're alone?" she asked, craning her neck as far as she could to meet his eyes.

"Definitely! They definitely do!"

He took a glimpse at the mess they made, committed that image to his wank bank, then removed himself from her, muttering, "Gonna get something to clean you up with. You want a drink, too? I'm parched. Yeah, I'll get us a towel and two drinks. Coming right up," as he hopped to his feet and got on with the tasks he set himself. He even added to the list to grab some clothes so she wouldn't get cold.

"For you, my lady," he grinned as he walked back in with the clothes and towels and two cans of Doctor Pepper, setting it all on the table. "Want me to...?"

"I can do it, if you don't! -"

"No, no, I can." He kissed the tip of her nose and got to work cleaning her off.

As he cleaned her up, he noticed the developing bruises on her hips and pressed his lips to them, mumbling against her skin, "Sorry...sorry, I got carried away," and stroking the small marks lightly with his finger.

It was sweet to watch.

"Didn't know you were so cute, Ade," she teased, reaching for a can and taking a sip.

"I'll show you cute." He jumped on top of her, omitting a loud battle cry as he fell, and was quick to press a trail of kisses all over her neck, leaving wet smears of saliva as he went. "I've got a proposition for you."

"Another one?"

Pulling back, he gave her an amused look and found her hand he could easily take hold of, giving it a firm squeeze as he said, "Let me take you out tomorrow? We'll watch four and five right now. I'll get you a huge popcorn and a drink and nachos and whatever you want when we see the new one. How does that sound?"

"A date, huh?"

"What? Do you not - do you not want to... to -"

She interrupted by roughly grabbing the back of his neck and yanking him into a smooch, sealing their lips together forcefully, her tongue plunging in deeply and swirling around his own hungrily. "Yes," she murmured in between the kiss, "I'll go on a date with you."

Now, it wasn't the coolest thing he'd ever done, but Adrian actually did a little dance of joy. He'd never done his famous butt dance horizontally before, and he'd certainly never done it whilst on top of someone, but it made him happy.

"Go put the next movie on, dork."

"On it!"

Obviously, he ran towards the TV to pop the next DVD and almost fell due to the speed at which he banged his knee on the side of the coffee table. That didn't matter.

The only thought that passed through his head was 'Thank fuck for Ghostface.'

#adrian chase #vigilante #vigilante x reader #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase x y/n #adrian chase x reader #peacemaker #Youtube

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