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transvampireboyfriend · 1 year

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Had this “Steve only hates impersonal nicknames” idea in my notes for a while and then after seeing @cholvoq ‘s wonderful art I had to turn it into a real thing for Valentine’s Day. This is 2.4k, i’m SO sorry edit: you can now read this on ao3 :)

Eddie’s a nickname guy. It’s always Dusty this and Gare-Bear that and JeffJeff here and Bobbie there and it’s Mikey and Maxxii and Nance-pants and Johnny and… big boy?

Him being a nickname guy makes it near impossible to hide his crushes. Thankfully, Steve had been really cool about it. Sure, he seemed a little stunned, but Eddie still had all his teeth in place by the end of that interaction, so he had called that a win.

He hadn’t known then that Steve was… different. Or he was starting to see it but what he thought was shocking then had really been just the tip of the iceberg. He hadn’t expected Steve to be nice. Or funny, or caring, or protective, or understanding.

He had learned all of that after everything. During chats on Hellfire nights while the kids cleaned up after themselves, during hangouts at the diner with Robin and Nancy, during Saturday afternoons when he went to pick out a movie only to end up talking with Steve, their conversation flowing until it was cut short by Steve’s shift ending.

After some time, Eddie had gotten to know Steve even more during long weekday nights when one came over to bring the other something they left behind, or to share a record, or to demand the beers the other owes or to show the other a stupid article in a stupid magazine only to end up making dinner together and watching a movie afterwards.

They stopped making excuses about two weeks ago.

Eddie had asked “do youuu… wanna come over?” on Saturday night, while nervously twirling his keys as Steve locked the front doors of the Family Video.

The evening chill had cut right through Eddie’s leather jacket as his keys clanged against his rings. But Steve had nodded with a smile and asked “pizza?” on their way to their cars, and Eddie had forgotten all about the cold.

Point being, Steve had been just fine with ‘big boy’ when it happened. Eddie’s a nickname guy. Him and Steve are hanging out more now, and so, Eddie’s been calling him more nicknames. Some of them are very intentional, others come completely without thinking, and it turns out, Steve takes issue with a few of them.

The first time it happens, Eddie’s underneath his van trying to get the damn thing to cooperate, the recent winter was tough on it, and it keeps dying out on him.

Steve sits nearby perched on a little stool, wearing his Family Video vest since he came by right after finishing his morning shift to see if they could make plans for lunch. Eddie suggested they grab something at the diner if and when he finally gets the van to start back up and Steve had agreed to wait.

He’s been telling Eddie about tonight’s basketball- game? match? super bowl? Is there such a thing as the major leagues of basketball? Eddie’s not sure, but he adores the sound of Steve’s voice and he’s kind of invested in the drama of players switching teams and retiring and whatever else Steve wants to tell him about. So, he’s been listening, not really bothering with asking for clarification for what he doesn’t understand yet. He’ll figure it out as they go.

He's blindly patting the floor around his legs for his rag, when he feels Steve put it right in his hand.

Eddie’s relieved. "Thanks, bud!" he says, the nickname just rolling off his tongue effortlessly, no meaning attached.

It gets kind of quiet all of a sudden. After about five seconds of Steve not talking, Eddie comes out to check on him, and finds him frowning at his legs.

"Don't call me ‘bud’" Steve requests, looking up at his face, his tone just a tad harsh. Eddie would think he ran into King Steve if he didn't know any better.

As it is, Eddie gets Steve probably thinks the nickname is childish or patronizing, so he doesn’t think twice of it, just gets a little sheepish and says "sorry, Stevie".

Steve smiles at that, a little cocky. He does his little mean girl shaking his head thing like he just got exactly what he wanted. Eddie feels his face twist a bit in confusion, but he likes it when Steve gets a little mean so he doesn't say anything about it and just dives back under his van as Steve resumes their conversation.

The second time it happens, they’re outside the supermarket. The kids shot out of the van as soon as it rolled to a stop, Steve calling out a warning after them while still listening to Eddie explain why Star Wars and Star Trek are actually very different but really good in their own way. Their conversation carries on as they hop out of the van, lock up and walk to meet at the front.

“I’m telling you, Star Trek is great. You would love it,” Eddie says, “you just have to give it a chance”.

Steve rolls his eyes at him, but Eddie can see his smile.

“Ok, alright,” Steve answers, “you can show me tonight then”, it’s almost too nonchalant. Eddie has to hide his grin.

Steve’s been suggesting they hang out more and more lately, and he can’t help but feel a bit hopeful. They clearly enjoy each other’s company, their time together is never dull, Steve seems to be really comfortable around him and maybe, just maybe…

“Should we get beers then?” Eddie asks, excited at the prospect of some more time alone with him. They haven’t had a weeknight hangout since Eddie fixed his van last week. He kinda misses the very specific color of Steve’s eyes in the Harringtons’ yellow living room lamplight.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his eyes get soft in a way Eddie only started noticing a couple of weeks back, “we can watch it at my place” he adds. Eddie thinks he definitely hasn’t seen him look at anyone else like that.

To shake himself out of the spell of the prettiest boy he’s ever met making the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen at him and ONLY him, Eddie grabs Steve by the wrist and starts marching them towards the supermarket’s front doors.

Without thinking, Eddie says "c'mon man," as they go.

Steve, who started easily following him (like he always does these days), suddenly stops in his tracks. Eddie gets pulled back and almost stumbles on top of Steve. He'd get flustered if Steve wasn't frowning at him like he’d just said the most insulting thing he’d heard this month.

"Don't call me ‘man’" Steve says. Eddie feels his eyebrows raise a bit.

He debates asking why but doesn't question Steve in the end. He’d rather offer understanding than judgement to him any day.

So, Eddie takes advantage of Steve's wrist in his hand, and squeezes there a bit, says "I'm sorry sweetheart" sincerely, looks into Steve's eyes so he can see Eddie means it.

Steve blushes a bit then, not really used to the nickname yet, Eddie just got the balls to start using it last week. Eddie himself is not really used to seeing Steve blush, and at something he says? It’s too much power for one metalhead.

But he gets distracted from Steve’s blush because it happens again, Steve basically preens like a peacock once Eddie switches nicknames. Looks smug, like he has Eddie wrapped around his finger and well, Eddie guesses he does, so, no arguments there either.

He just smiles back at Steve, really, has no other choice, it’s not like he can control how he reacts to the most gorgeous fucking face the universe could ever come up with. But he tugs him along again, Steve happily following this time.

The next time it happens, Steve’s leaning against his kitchen island, with Eddie leaning across from him against the counter.

The party is watching a movie in the Harringtons’ living room and at some point, Eddie got up to get himself another soda, Steve not so subtly followed after him, taking the empty popcorn bowls to the sink. He struck up a conversation and there they stayed.

Eddie’s been turning the small gesture around and around in his head. Clearly Steve’s not shy about seeking him out, and he’s obviously good with the party knowing, which means a hell of a lot because those are Steve’s people, that’s his family.

Eddie’s honestly running out of excuses to not ask him out. Seeing him reaching out to bump his sneaker against Eddie’s boot when he says something funny, laughing just a little too hard at Eddie’s dumb joke; seeing his eyes widen a bit when Eddie compliments him; seeing him notice when Eddie is holding back from talking too much, and not letting it go until he thinks Eddie’s shared all of his opinions on the subject; Eddie thinks maybe he can be brave, when it comes to Steve.

And this week might be the perfect time.

Here they are still, the movie long ended and several easy conversations floating from the living room to the kitchen, where they’re still engrossed on their own.

“I mean I taught the kid how to do his hair for god’s sake!” Steve is saying, Eddie’s laughing easily, and he has a slight suspicion Steve’s acting way more annoyed than he really is because he knows Eddie dies laughing every time Steve roasts the kids.

“Just, if he’s gonna give me hair advice, he should work on that goddamn tone. At the Very Least.” Steve finishes, Eddie giggling all the while at his Annoyed Mom tone.

"Yeah, dude!" Eddie agrees, wanting to egg him on, but Steve's face suddenly falls and whatever remark Eddie had locked and loaded just fades away.

Eddie blinks perplexed; he’s getting déjà vu.

Steve frowns at him, says "Don't call me ‘dude’".

It’s eerie, only he sounds a bit annoyed this time.

Eddie thinks, maybe someone called Steve ‘dude’ before in an unpleasant way, so he doesn't pry. Instead, he takes the chance to call him a nickname he likes more, and says "Sorry, pretty boy", his heart fluttering in the milliseconds he has to wait for Steve’s reaction.

And it happens one last time: Steve absolutely beams at that one, his smile so bright it makes Eddie want to jump in place.

He leans further back on the counter returning the smile, not noticing the common thread in Steve’s reactions to him switching nicknames.

But then the glint in Steve’s eyes suddenly brightens a dim corner of Eddie’s brain. He gets this feeling that reminds him of a perfectly set up riddle or finding that one perfect note for his latest song. It’s like everything suddenly just makes sense.

Eddie feels realization dawn on his face as he pushes himself off the counter to walk right into Steve’s personal bubble, grabs both of Steve's hands.

"Steve" Eddie says, not even caring that he sounds like the name is dripping in honey when it comes out of his mouth. With how sweet Steve is, it might as well be.

Steve just looks at him a little stunned, but doesn't say anything. Eddie draws circles in the back of his palms to reassure him.

"Why don't you want me to call you ‘dude’?" Eddie asks, trying to find out if this whole thing is what he thinks it is.

Steve looks down at their joined hands,.

"You call Nancy that sometimes..." Steve mumbles.

His answer would sound inconsequential to the unsuspecting, certainly would have to Eddie as late as last week, but Eddie thinks he’s finally getting it, and he hums his understanding.

"How ‘bout ‘man’?" he asks

Steve replies "You call Robin that sometimes..." his eyes still on their hands.

Eddie nods his agreement.

"I call everyone those things" he points out.

Steve agrees. "Exactly" he says, finally looking at him again, sounding annoyed and confirming Eddie’s suspicions.

Eddie feels his face split into a smile. He wants to grab Steve’s beautiful freaking face and just plant one on him.

"Can I still call you sweetheart?" he ventures instead. The nickname brings the hint of a smile to Steve's face but then he seems to realize something not so pleasant.

"Do you call someone else ‘sweetheart’?" Steve asks in return.

"No one" Eddie says, shaking his head, his tone vehement.

"Then yes" Steve finally answers. Eddie's heart wants to beat right out of his chest.

He interlocks their fingers to ground himself, Steve looks down at their hands and smiles at the sight.

"So, you don't want me to call you something I call someone else?" Eddie states, more than asks, calling Steve’s eyes back to his again.

"Anyone else" Steve confirms, holding his gaze.

Eddie lets out a small shuddering exhale and feels his heart fluttering in his throat, he really cannot believe this boy.

"Steve" Eddie drawls, dripping in honey again, his hands coming up to cradle Steve's face because he really can't resist anymore "Sweetheart" he says.

Steve's eyes grow a little wide and he starts blushing so much that Eddie can feel it in his palms.

"Steevieeee" Eddie sinsongs, squeezing Steve's face a bit "Pretty boy" Eddie calls him. Steve just keeps looking at him and a small smile blooms in his pretty, pretty face.

"Would you let me take you out to dinner this Friday?" Eddie finally asks him, his fingers curling to the back of Steve's head to play with his hair there. Steve's eyes get even wider.

" 's Valentine's this Friday" he points out. Eddie knows.

"Mmhm. Want you to be my Valentine." Eddie tells him, tugs his hair gently, "How's that sound?" he asks, bold in a way he never has been before. Steve blushing does things to him.

"Sounds nice" Steve answers. He smiles and nods while his hands hook on Eddie's belt loops.

"Then it's a date?" Eddie asks, trying not to sound too eager. He thinks he fails spectacularly but Steve beams and pulls him in to kiss his cheek.

"It's a date" Steve tells him, his breath ghosting on Eddie's cheek and making him shiver.

Steve pulls back, lets go of Eddie’s belt loops and tugs on a strand of his hair gently, smiling like the cat that got the cream as he walks back out into the living room.

Eddie’s gonna make this the best Valentine’s Day date Steve has ever been on.

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i-suc-at-art · 1 month

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Ummm.. I really love this fic

*hands @basilf1res this gently*

Any ways go read project “GH05T” it’s really good :)

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nextstopparis · 1 year

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i really just need good like mid to long length fix recs please i’m begging

hey bestie, i didnt know if you had any specific type of fic in mind or just length and what u consider mid so here are a few fics with 25k+ word counts and thats basically all they have in common🫶 also these are all more or less merthur im so sorry. i hope u find something new here!!!

Arthur, Sincerely by MerlinLikeTheBird (47.8k) (THE FLUFF IN THIS MADE ME CRY also its canon era)

To Begin Anew (need ao3 acc) by ohHeyThereBigBadWolf (27.7k) (ive read this like five times. i think about it constantly. canon divergence)

that lightning-strike feel by TheLurkingContessa (32.5k) (cmon merthur training with weapons together??? also canon era)

An Illusion of Sorts by lordvoldemortsnipple (133.7k) (ive also read this like 3 times which is sorta insane bc its 100k+ words omfg… modern au w magic)

Annum Inanis (The Empty Year) (need ao3 acc) by anonymintea (43.2k) (i DIED. canon era)

Charting Stars On A Stained Glass Ceiling by mornmeril (80k) (my note on ao3 under this is just OHMYGOD a bunch of times so. future au with magic)

a thimble of light for an acre of sky by celaenos (36.2k) (THIS IS NOT MERTHUR well theres like a hint of merthur at the very end but mostly its pendragon siblings and morgwen. I DIED. canon divergence)

Chasing Spring (ok TECHNICALLY this is a series but overall its 58.7k words so) by Gimli_s_Pickaxe (god merlin au do i really need to say anything else. canon era)

Keep the Magic Secret (73.5k) (i feel like i cant say I DIED again or else it’ll start losing its meaning to you but really i did. canon era)

M-RYS by mornmeril (123.2k) (ive also read this three times and was actually just craving a reread yesterday so. hmm. future au with magic)

We Pull These Jobs To Make A Little Money (No One Gets Hurt If They Don’t Act Funny) by leashy_bebes (48.9k) (this fic left me speechless all i could muster in my ao3 notes was “oh my god” not even capitalized like it shook me to my core. modern au)

You’ve Got My Heart, I’ve Got Your Hand by FervidAsAFlame (29.3k) (ive read this about five times it makrs me cry its so sweet i Love Them. modern au)

The Tournament of All Magicks by Cori Lannam (corilannam) (41.3k) (CMONNNN merlin fighting in a TOURNAMENT??? cmon. ohh craving a reread for this one too now… canon era)

The Future Soon by lady_ragnell (30.2k) (i loved this fic so so much. like theres just something about the vibe of it that im obsessed with. could also be the enemies to lovers thing. modern au with magic)

Sweeter Dreams by Tierfal (35.3k) (FREED VIVIAN OF MEN! i mean what more could i want. canon divergence)

Truth Is a Whisper by seperis (25k) (im being so serious go read everything by seperis. everything. GO. FIRST TINTAGEL bc that is my fav fic of all time probably but its 20k words so i couldnt put it here. GO!! theyre my fav author it took EVERYTHING not to rec all their fics. canon divergence)

Accidental Memory in the Case of Death by derryere (74.9k) (theres just something so. So. I DONT KNOW. overwhelming about them in this. its reincarnation au which might be why. one line made me cry)

The Ivy Crown by dayari (derryday) (252.2k) (ive read this three times. look at the word count. i will probably read it again. green knight au thing. theyre just. ohmygod)

Dower the Stars by RurouniHime (40.6k) (LISTEN. actually idek what i can say about this. except for the fact that its the PERFECT FIC. literally. its perfect. im especially in love with arthur and gwens friendship in this but anyway. canon divergence.)

#i sorta just assumed u meant merlin fics omg #BUT IF YOU WANT I ALSO HAVE A FEW KANEJ FICS!#also these are just a few from my bookmarks i have more too #ok well. can u believe this is th e first proper ask ive answered in like a year omg #happy pride xoxoxoxo #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fic rec #ask

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lulublack90 · 1 month

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Prompt 5 - Awful First Meeting

@wolfstarmicrofic May 5, word count 688

Sirius spied him from across the room. There were much more attractive people at the party but something about him caught his eye. He watched him for a while, scoping him out. The man wandered near the wall and Sirius made him move.

He slid up to the tall man and braced his hands either side of him against the wall.

“Hi there sexy, how’s it going?” This move had a 100% success rate for Sirius. Once, they got a look at his pretty face, and he turned on his charms. They were putty in his hands. This time, however, backfired spectacularly.

The man tensed and then, with strength that surprised Sirius, shoved him away before shouting.

“Fuck off!” Silencing the party as he stormed out of the room. A few of the party goers stared at him and snickered to each other, but most just went back to dancing.

Regulus’s best friend, Barty, sidled up beside Sirius.

“Yeah, that’s Remus. He doesn’t like it when people box him in, breathe his air or basically get in his space.”

“No shit,” Sirius glowered at him. Barty didn’t even bat an eyelid. Instead, he ran a finger down Sirius’s arm and said,

“But I’m all about being shoved up against walls.” He winked at Sirius as he rejoined the party, getting lost in the crowd. Sirius was mad, but he was not that mad. No way could he handle Barty’s craziness on top of his own.

He ran out of the room, hoping to find Remus and apologise.

“Hey!” He yelled down the street at the retreating figure. “Hey, wait up!” Remus didn’t slow down. Sirius was out of breath by the time he caught up with his long strides. “Hey. I’m. Sirius.” He gasped between breaths. “I. Just. Wanted. To. Apologise. For what. I did. Back there.” He pointed in the general direction of the party.

“Don’t care.” Remus said coldly as he folded himself into an ancient Vauxhall Corsa and sped away.

“Do you want his number?” Evan said, popping out of the bushes. Sirius jumped out of his boots.

“What the fuck, Evan! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!” Sirius clutched his chest. Evan’s mouth spread into a toothy grin.

“Nope, just trying to steal your boots!” He bent down and snatched them up as he ran back into the party. Sirius didn’t even bother chasing him down, he’d get them back eventually. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. His night was not going to plan.

He was about to head back into the party and find out what Evan had planned for his poor boots when a car stopped beside him.

“Were you just mugged?” Remus asked, after rolling the window down. Sirius barked out a laugh.

“No, it was just Evan. I’ll get them back.” Sirius thought while he had Remus’s attention he’d push his luck. “So can I get your number then? I really would like to make up for that disastrous introduction in there.” He put on his best, 'I’m sorry, please love me' face, and Remus gave in.

“Fine, give me your phone.” Sirius gleefully unlocked it and handed it over. Remus reached a hand out of his window and took it.

“Gee,” He said, smiling wickedly. “It sure would be a shame if you were mugged twice tonight,” And he sped away, cackling.

“OI!” Sirius yelled as he chased after the car in his socks. The car stopped halfway down the street and Sirius collapsed in the open window, reaching in to take his phone back. He couldn’t even get mad because the smile that greeted him made it all worth it.

“Go get your shoes, and you can treat me to a McDonald's.” Sirius didn’t waste any time and rushed back into the party, tackled Evan to the ground, took back his boots, waved at his brother and almost dived head first into the little car.

As Remus pulled away from the kerb, Sirius thought maybe his terrible night would turn around. That was until he found out how much Remus could eat.

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lemonwrap · 16 days

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Imagine: a Dishonored AU where Ghost is marked and gifted with the Outsider’s powers, and Soap is the royalty he protects.

As a young child, Simon grew up poor—so poor that his father couldn’t repay the debts he racked up. Not when he spent nearly every cent on booze.

When Simon is eight, the street gang his father had been avoiding for nearly a year finally catches up with him. Although Simon manages to escape, the gang kills his entire family as retribution—his father, mother, and older brother, Tommy. Ghost didn’t care for his father in the least, but it’s still a shock to see a corpse.

That night, as he sobs on his cracked front doorstep and mourns the loss of his mother and brother, he falls asleep. He awakens in a strange place, where chunks of buildings and land float throughout a vast abyss.

Simon wanders around for an unknown amount of time investigating—it could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been years. A flurry of inky black particles form in the air and quickly arrange themselves into a…being.

There’s something distinctly godlike about the being. He isn’t human. His eyes are pitch black, an abyss with no bounds, and his skin is pale as snow. He holds himself with a rigid posture, arms crossed, and chin lifted as he looks down upon the young boy.

“Hello, Simon,” the being says.

“Who are you?” Simon whispers.

“I am the Outsider. Your life has taken a turn, has it not? I have chosen you and drawn you into the Void,” he says. “There are forces in the world and beyond the world, great forces that men call ‘magic’, and now these forces will serve your will.”

Simon doesn’t say anything else, mystified. What is he talking about? There’s always been stories of magic, of the Outsider, but magic doesn’t really exist, does it? But nothing else can explain how real this all feels, from the cold, empty air to the calls of the whales as they float throughout the chasm of this realm, to the Outsider himself.

“This is my mark,” the Outsider says, and he lifts his hand. Suddenly, Simon’s own left hand is burning, and he jumps at the pain, looking down at it in alarm. There’s an intricate design forming on the back of his hand, and when he tries to wipe it off, it’s smooth and stays firmly in place like a tattoo would.

“Use this newfound power, my gift to you, Simon. How you use what I have given you falls upon you, as it has to the others before you. And now, I return you to your world—but know that I will be watching with great interest.”

In the morning, Simon wakes up on his doorstep again. He immediately checks his hand and is startled to see that it’s still there, and it doesn’t come off. It wasn’t just a dream.

He lives on the streets after that.

Simon spends years honing his abilities, including his ability to Blink moderate distances, Wind Blast opponents or objects, and his sword fighting skills. He also maintains a strong, agile body ready for just about anything, and even adopts the name Ghost, coming from his ability to Blink and his stealth.

In his dreams, Ghost sometimes finds himself in the Void, but he never sees the Outsider. His mark is as visible and strong as ever, though, and so he keeps it covered constantly.

At sixteen, Ghost enters the Blade Verbana, an annual sword-fighting competition. The prize is a spot in the Serkonan Guard, something he would have almost zero chance of gaining otherwise.

Ghost wins, of course. Even without his powers, most of his opponents were no match for him. He didn’t use his powers in the competition because using his Wind Blast to throw one of his opponents into a wall or Blinking to dodge would give him away. Black magic is feared and looked down upon, and its discovery would subject him to arrest or death. Ghost knows that is what he possesses, so he keeps it a secret, only using it when alone or in an emergency.

After two years of service, the Duke of Serkonos sends Ghost to Dunwall to serve Empress Anne MacTavish. The Empress assigns him to be the Royal Protector, specifically for her son.

That’s when he meets John MacTavish.

He’s Ghost’s age, has a stupid haircut in the form of a mohawk, and likes to be called Soap. Ghost thinks he’s insolent and irritating, with the most redeeming thing about him is that he doesn’t talk down on Ghost and doesn’t purposely flaunt his wealth or status. It makes his attitude a little more bearable. However, Soap has a healthy disrespect for authority and, to Ghost’s annoyance, likes to flee the elegant balls his mother hosts and sneak out of his room in the tower at night. It’s Ghost’s job to protect and guard him, and Soap is making it a pain in the ass.

Ghost isn’t particularly attached to his fiery ward until one night, when Soap slips out of his room yet again. Ghost tracks him down and eventually finds Soap in the middle of a brawl with three men in an alleyway, losing badly. Ghost helps him. He and Soap fight side by side, though Soap is clearly lacking in any real technique, and Ghost chases the men away. He could’ve easily Wind Blasted them, but he doesn’t want to try and explain that to Soap.

He’s about to yell at Soap until he realizes there’s a girl there, too. A teenager, only a few years younger than them. Soap had been defending her. Ghost is still annoyed, but not quite as upset as before as he drags Soap back to the tower. He tends to a pouting Soap’s scrapes and sends him back to his room with a blooming black eye.

The next day, when Ghost is reprimanded for allowing Soap to leave his room and get hurt, Soap jumps in to defend the Royal Protector. Ghost manages to avoid punishment, although Soap and his black eye make quite the sight as his mother chews him out.

After that, they get closer.

As it is his duty to do so, Ghost follows Soap just about everywhere, much to Soap’s annoyance. When Soap isn’t sneaking out, roaming the city streets, or meeting up with his friend Gaz, he likes to find reprieve in the small patch of woods near the tower. Sometimes he takes a dip in the small pond located there.

“C’mon, Ghost,” Soap urges, waggling his eyebrows as he tosses his shirt to the side. “The water’s fine.”

“I’m supposed to be guarding you,” Ghost says gruffly as Soap steps in. He tries very hard not to look at Soap’s chest, his strong biceps, or his tanned skin.

“You’re so serious all the time,” Soap huffs, taking his arm and playfully splashing Ghost with water. From the edge, Ghost is torn between wanting to splash him back and wanting to stay on guard.

“I won’t let you get in trouble,” Soap assures him. “You need to relax a little!”

Ah, fuck it. What’s a little fun? Ghost has more clothes back at the tower, anyway. He kicks off his boots.

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ghost says.

“Warn me about wh—“

Ghost doesn’t hear the rest of his sentence. Clothes on, he impulsively cannonballs straight into the pond, splashing water all over the place in a huge wave. When he rises to the surface, Soap is sputtering and spitting water out of his mouth.

“I didn't mean come in like that,” Soap laughs incredulously. Later, when they return to the tower, Ghost dripping all over the floors and boots squelching with every step, Soap tells his mother that he pushed Ghost in just so that Ghost wouldn’t get in trouble.

Between their banter and jokes, Ghost also teaches Soap more about self defense, and they spar frequently. Soap gets better and better, but against Ghost’s years of experience and unnatural talents, Ghost still wins. Soap gets some good hits in, though, and he can hold his own in a fight.

Soap quickly becomes likable—and despite his intention to stay distant, Ghost starts crushing on Soap. He’s still professional, of course, but it’s hard for him to not like Soap, especially when they spend so much time together. Soap treats him well, too, and the brazen-faced man often shows him a softer, more kind side of himself. Ghost’s own facade slips more often than he intends it to.

Sometimes, Ghost wishes he could tell Soap about the Outsider’s mark. He doesn’t, and the Outsider never visits him either. Perhaps Ghost is too boring for him now that he isn’t a street rat.

Less than a year after Ghost is appointed as Soap’s Royal Protector, the Empress falls ill and dies. At only eighteen, Soap becomes the new Emperor of the Empire of the Isles.

Soap doesn’t get a lot of time to process it all when the council urges him to make a public statement and officially inherit the title. After, Soap stands with Ghost at his side as the aides move Soap’s belongings into his new quarters—his mother’s old room.

Soap doesn’t say a word and just stands there with watery eyes. Unsure if this was a line he should cross, Ghost attempts to go stand outside Soap’s door, but Soap asks him to stay. The new Emperor cries into Ghost’s shoulder that night.

Ghost tries his best to help Soap deal with his grief, but even with personal experience, he’s not the greatest at it. Even so, Soap begins to get the hang of being Emperor and proves himself to be a benevolent and competent leader. The people become fond of Soap and respect him greatly.

It isn’t enough to keep him from being targeted, though.

It’s a quiet night, nearly three years after being appointed Emperor, when a group of assassins makes an attempt on Soap’s life. Soap and Ghost are resting in a gazebo, looking out at the water, and standing much too close for Ghost to even pretend he’s being professional. He can’t stop looking at Soap, from his grown-out mohawk that hasn’t been trimmed in months to his beautiful blue eyes. Ghost wants to kiss Soap so, so badly, but he does no such thing, and resigns himself to observing.

Neither of them are prepared for the attack, but Ghost recovers first. There’s six of them, all covering their faces like Ghost does—perhaps they had heard of Ghost’s fighting prowess and thought that they could overwhelm him with numbers.

He doesn’t let that happen.

Everything comes in a rush, and he’s using the Outsider’s mark to prevent them from even touching Soap. Soap knocks one of them out in the ensuing struggle and beats the shit out of another, but Ghost is a whirlwind, dodging and Blinking to avoid blows, Wind Blasting his opponents to the ground, and using his sword like it’s an extension of his own body. It’s over quicker than Ghost had expected.

“Shit,” Soap says breathlessly, visibly shaken when Ghost pulls his sword out of the last assassin’s stomach.

“You alright, Johnny?” Ghost asks, stumbling forward, and finds that he’s very out of breath.

“Simon? What’s that on your side?” Soap asks, his brow creasing with worry. “Are you—“

Ghost staggers, and suddenly his side is bursting with pain. He can’t believe he didn’t notice it before. He reaches his hand to where the pain is radiating and can feel the hot blood quickly gushing from the wound.

“Simon?!” Soap rushes forward, and suddenly, Ghost feels a little too woozy. Shit, they must’ve gotten him bad.

“It’s fine,” Ghost grunts, trying not to worry Soap too much, but it’s starting to get dark and Ghost is dizzy.

The last thing he hears is Soap frantically calling his name.

When Ghost wakes up, he’s in a dim room that he recognizes as Soap’s quarters. There’s a weight on his thigh, and he looks down to see Soap’s head resting on him. Soap’s closed eyes are puffy like he’s been crying, and there’s shadows under them, too. Ghost shifts and lets out a groan as a sharp pain shoots through his side, and Soap immediately notices, his eyes snapping open.

But then his face switches from relief and crumples into a terrible, terrible guilt.

Soap sits up and lays his hand on Ghost’s chest, and Ghost realizes that he’s feeling how his chest rises and falls. Ghost doesn’t know what to say, but anything he possibly could fades when Soap lets out a shuddering gasp and begins to cry. It quickly turns into hiccuping sobs, and Ghost worriedly grabs Soap’s hands in his own, trying to soothe him.

“Ah, shit. Johnny, it’s okay,” Ghost says, wanting to lean forward but wincing. Soap pushes him back against the propped-up pillows, his cheeks wet with tears, lip wobbling, brows upturned in utter sorrow. Ghost feels like an asshole for letting himself get hurt so badly.

“It’s not. I thought you were going to die,” Soap says, his breathing hitched.

“I had to protect you,” Ghost says, running his hands up Soap’s arms.

“But—“

“Johnny, I’d do it a thousand times if it meant you lived.”

Soap sniffles and lays his head back down on Ghost’s thigh, and Ghost pets his hair.

Later, they talk about what happened. At Soap’s probing, Ghost cautiously admits that he had been marked by the Outsider as a child. Soap doesn’t seem to find this off-putting, nor does he call for Ghost’s arrest or beheading. He doesn’t seem to think any differently of Ghost, although he does seem incredibly intrigued by the mark on Ghost’s hand that he’d diligently kept hidden until now.

Only a day and a half after being stabbed, Ghost gets out of bed and hobbles around some, much to Soap’s displeasure.

When he gets tired, he lets Soap lead him back into bed. They’re close, and Ghost just can’t help himself. He strokes his hand through Soap’s hair softly, and Soap allows it—seems to enjoy it, even.

And then he’s using the hand in Soap’s hair to urge him closer, kissing him before he can stop himself, because he’s wanted to do this for three years at this point. Ghost quickly pulls back, though, stunned at what he’s just done.

Soap looks just as stunned for a moment, but then he grins.

“Is this your way of telling me you’re feeling better?” Soap laughs, following Ghost’s lips and kissing him fiercely.

“Better because of you,” Ghost manages to say between their desperate kisses. He doesn’t even care that his side still hurts like a bitch and that it’ll likely be weeks before he’s back on his feet.

“You big fuckin’ sap,” Soap says. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” Ghost breathes.

“Yeah,” Soap affirms, and that’s that.

#if you haven’t watched/played Dishonored before please do it omg #Wanted to make Ghoap’s situation similar to Jessamine and Corvo’s when they first met :)#This has been in my drafts for months but it’s probably not going to be a full blown fic #so I made it a drabble instead #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #cod #call of duty #dishonored #dishonored au #lemonwrap writes #drabble

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wikiangela · 2 months

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tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @bidisasterbuckdiaz 💖

me impatiently waiting for tuesday to share a snippet bc im obsessed with bucktommy rn and after some editing im loving everything i've written in this fic so far and wanna share every word of it asap lmao

here's a bit more, and yes they are talking about the evan thing bc at first it bothered me so much, but it grew on me (with fics and some takes on it i saw and just the more i saw it and thought about it) and now im kinda loving it lol

prev snippet

___

“If you wanted me out of my shirt, you should’ve just said so.” he murmurs.

“I want you out of your shirt.” Buck says without hesitation, and Tommy releases a breathless, surprised laugh.

“Suddenly so forward.” he shakes his head, capturing Buck’s lips again. Well, Buck has been kind of shy and flustered with Tommy, but that’s not always how he is, not how he used to be.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Buck grins, and then, still a little hesitantly, places his palm over Tommy’s thigh where it rests over Buck’s knee. Tommy looks at him curiously, and Buck’s grin widens as he pulls his leg up and over his lap, getting Tommy to properly straddle him now, his shirt falling over his back again, as he releases a surprised gasp. “Now that’s better.” he adds, getting used to the unfamiliar weight, Tommy being bigger and heavier than Buck’s used to with his previous partners, obviously, but it- it feels good, right, almost comforting, Tommy’s steady and firm presence surrounding him now. Plus, it is kinda hot, too.

“Evan.” Tommy just says breathlessly, and Buck’s smile softens, one of his hands moving to the side of Tommy’s neck, just resting there.

“You know you’re one of the very few people who call me that?” he whispers, the mood shifting a bit from hot and impatient to soft and warm, and pleasant, and Buck really feels so comfortable with Tommy.

“Yeah, I noticed.” Tommy replies, settling more comfortably, wrapping his arms around Buck’s neck loosely, but his hands play with Buck’s hair lightly. He sits far enough on Buck’s lap that their crotches don’t touch, and Buck’s not sure if he’s happy about that. “Does it bother you?” he asks with a hint of worry.

“No, no, of course not.” Buck rushes to say. If it did, he’d say something. No, it doesn’t bother him. The opposite, in fact. “I actually-” he can’t help a small awed smile. “I think I like it.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Tommy tilts his head curiously, and he’s so cute, and Buck needs to kiss him. So he does. Because he can. And he can’t stop smiling.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @neverevan @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @hoodie-buck @tizniz @your-catfish-friend @hippolotamus

#tease tidbit tuesday #i keep rewatching the kiss and giggling and kicking my feet and omg what is happening lmao #i just need to write this and get it out of my system and then i'll be back to buddie i promise lmao #also the amount of times i typed eddie instead of tommy lmao my subconsciousness knows where my heart truly lies 🤣🤣#i wanna finish it before 7x05 tho so wish me luck lol #this is (so far) 3.6k of them just making out and talking lol #ngl it started as after their first date but now i'm wondering if i should change that or smth #but also who cares haha #fic snippet #wikiangela writes #my writing #my wips #911 fic #911 abc #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy post-date fic

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absoloutenonsense · 8 months

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Coming October 31st…

When the Trouble Comes by nonsensedarling

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | 80k | Explicit

Official fic post is HERE.

The Queens Trafficking case is the biggest one of Louis’ FBI career so far; eleven reported missing girls all disappeared under a similar set of circumstances. Louis has done everything he can to try and solve this case over the last nine months... while also absolutely ruining his marriage. Harry has been co-host of Banter at Breakfast for five years now and finally has the opportunity to create his own radio show with the network. Unfortunately, it comes at a time where Harry's thoughts are consumed with his impending divorce from his (caring, loving, infuriatingly thoughtful) husband of eight years. Harry and Louis have both been willing to lose themselves in their work… but are they willing to lose each other?

Or a story of (almost) exes-to-lovers.

Chapters will post on Tuesdays of each week, starting on October 31st (20 chapters in total).

(If you would like to be notified by email when it starts posting, you can subscribe here.)

Snippet under the cut:

💼🍷

With a copy of the case file in his backpack, Louis sticks his key in the door, unlocks it, and steps inside, trying to be as quiet as he can because he knows at this time of night, Harry will definitely be asleep.

Except when he shuts the door, he sees the living room light bleeding out into the hallway, a shadow moving back and forth. There’s the sound of footsteps – lots of them, very quickly. Louis stares at the light and for a brief moment panics that he’s walked into their apartment to find Harry with someone else.

He hears light murmurs. Louis leans forward, feet frozen but his ears straining, until he recognizes the murmurs as Harry singing. Louis sighs in relief. Harry isn’t with someone else. He’s singing and probably dancing in the living room, maybe with his headphones in, which is why he hasn’t stopped or popped his head out between the doorframe when Louis opened the door.

Louis isn’t going to look in. He’s going to walk right past the doorway and head straight to the guest bedroom and review the file again, and then go to sleep so he can meet Perrie early in the morning.

He isn’t going to look in.

He really doesn’t mean to look in. A motion pulls his attention in his peripheral vision and his head turns without him realizing it, then his whole body stops moving.

Harry is dancing, wireless earbuds in and a glass of deep red wine in his right hand. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, which tells Louis that the one in his hand is at least his third. He’s wearing just his boxer briefs and one of Louis’ hoodies.

Well, it was technically Harry’s hoodie originally. It’s heather grey, worn in to just the perfect amount of softness with a faded Greenbay Packers logo on the front. The first time Louis stayed over at Harry’s, he got cold just before they were going to bed. Harry took the sweatshirt from where it was draped over the top of the closet door and passed it to him.

When Louis pulled it on… he can’t really explain it, but there, in Harry’s dreadfully small room in his four-roommate apartment, wearing a hoodie that smelled exactly like him (like he’d been wearing it all day, soaked in the scent of his shampoo and body lotion and fabric softener)... Louis had the same feeling he got when he first visited New York when he was a kid. Like he was home. Harry had agreed. “Looks better on you then it ever has on me,” he’d said with a smirk. And from then on, it was Louis’ hoodie. Harry never tried to take it back.

So the fact that his husband is wearing it now makes Louis feel all sorts of things. Before he has even a second to figure out what any one of them is, Harry opens his eyes.

“Shit fucking Christ,” he exclaims, opening his hand automatically. It’s like Louis watches in slow motion as the glass falls and breaks, shattering in so many different directions. He pulls his earbuds out quickly. “Hell, Louis, you scared the shit out of me!” he scolds.

Harry rises up onto his tiptoes, and Louis’ hand immediately goes out in front of him in a stop gesture.

“Don’t, don’t move,” Louis says. “Stay there.”

He turns quickly towards the kitchen, throwing his backpack somewhere off to the side as he rushes to grab the dustpan and broom, as well as the roll of paper towels.

“I’m coming, stay still,” Louis shouts as he starts jogging back.

He keeps his eyes on the ground as he puts one paper towel down to soak up the wine there, then balls it up so he can sweep away the shards. He does the same as he works his way towards Harry’s feet.

There’s red wine all over his toes, that’s got to be uncomfortable. Louis grabs one of the paper towels and goes to dab his feet to wipe it off.

“Stop,” Harry says. He sounds angry.

Louis glances up and sees that he looks angry. He holds his hands up in a surrendering motion, not wanting to upset him anymore.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well don’t,” Harry spits out.

He stands up slowly. Louis doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Harry this angry with him. Even the time Louis accidentally threw out his favorite pair of boots it wasn’t like this. Louis isn’t prepared for this bitterness coming from his husband, and he didn’t think divorce brought on something like that when it wasn’t there before, at least not before they’d even filed the paperwork.

#(almost) exes-to-lovers #*screams*#i've never posted a fic as a WIP so we'll see how that goes!#what a time #it is actually insane that this is only 80k- i know i complained at literally every step about it but omg writing PLOT is so MUCH #the way it's been 2 years since this AU started i'm so excited to get it OUT of my documents #updated #first posting date will be October 31st!#means the fic should be fully posted (hopefully including epilogue) by mid-March #we’ll see if I get trigger happy and post any chapters early/sooner than anticipated but no promises!!!!

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theyluvfrankocean · 2 months

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A Night To Remember

minors DNI

warning/s: afab!reader, light smut, has consent (consent is hot‼️), p in v sex, no protection (don't be silly wrap your willy), pinch of angst, fluff, and has a teeny bit of plot

Something from his touch felt shockingly familiar and you swore that you'd seen him in this moment before. Underneath the sheets he enchanted you, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you shivered beneath him all wrapped up in embers.

"I was very patient waiting, now I'm glad that I get to love you more than you could ever know after these years."

You swore he looked divine, everything about made him feel like all of this was a myth between lovers, as his warmth enveloped both of your bodies like a furnace in a cold December.

Your tears running down made him feel insatiable for what goes down in this night, it made him confident that this would never be the last time he'll let you go, not in a “millennia” he would ever wait, he was eager to take you in his hold in a tight embrace.

"So please, may I take you as you will?"

He wiped all your remaining tears as his hand was still on the side of your face as he caressed it softly. These sweet fantasies of yours that have been collected for too long are now over, you have the real deal above you after years of waiting, and the lingering scent through your longing of him has finally been relieved.

"Yes you may do so."

His mind races, the feeling of you against him makes his heart do laps in such unmeasurable speed, you could even hear how it beats as it resonates to yours.

"Oh I'll certainly will lovely, If you can keep up with me..."

"Well, this can go on for the whole night, I can't wait to devour you~"

His bright crescents on his eyes doesn't give him any favor in contrast to his rugged figure that no greek statue could even compare.

He begins thrusting you in slowly, he desires to take it deliberately as you both wanted. Even in such a slow pace, he grunted how tight your walls were when he entered, oh how finally relieved he felt after longing the pieces of you in all of his seven senses.

"Y-you're taking me so well, I love it, I love you."

He murmurs silently, softly, the words almost getting lost in between kisses. He slots his lips with yours firmly, fearing the space between you both as his kisses trail down to your jaw until he indulges on your neck relentlessly, imprinting his love to your body as a canvas of his work made with the sincerity of his love that he could offer to you.

The way he took you carefully was out of your own words, the way he makes you feel swooned with the way he synchronizes your body to his. You two felt like you've danced to the same song before, but the mood did change this time around. It felt enchanting, driven with passion delivered onto this "dance."

You felt safe under his feather light touch, as your lips brushed to his again, it felt apocalyptic. Like a powerful supernova burst in dust, causing your heart to collapse with so much love that you've been giving after having to go through so much isolation for the sake of keeping this relationship apart any longer. No one can stop you both now, it all comes to a full circle after many hardships to come by between you and him.

"I can't stop this, you feel so tight around me."

Your walls clenched against him, both breaths hitching with his thrust. You let herself sink more into his arms as his hands flattened against your spine, pulling you closer.

"I- i love you, i love you so much."

Sucking in a sharp breath, he continues to elevate his speed as you both were near to your limits, as he was near to release his load into you. You feel a tight knot forming inside you as you both gasp with exhaustion, feeling the heavy weight of his body being pressed to yours, yet he was never exhausted to plant a kiss to your forehead as you both peacefully slumber into the night.

The morning after, you were awoken by his steady breaths that were close through your neck. You do admit, this is what you've wanted after all, there's nothing to fear for what could've been after the night that you both showed the love that has been in the air for so long. As much as you don't wanna leave in his arms, you have other priorities.

"Please stay."

You knew what he was thinking of, what could have become in this complex relationship of yours. But in your own eyes full of doubt, that he was someone you've seen before, yet you sensed that he gave out such a familiar feeling that you've been longing for years. However, you still fear what's to come.

The way he views you is just as he wants to worship you like a goddess, solely devoted his entire soul to you like a million men can glance at Venus. He took an unstable breath for how awfully sensational you looked with only the blanket you two shared. You're his religion.

Yet change is still inevitable, you still haven't recovered from the past that has still been blurry through your mind wanting to erase everything, this race against your choices of love and longing ends. Returning to his warm embrace, you felt content for the way things get timely automatically romantic, you 're glad to give this another chance.

"I'll stay with you for as long as you want, don't worry."

His face was in awe. But deep inside, he’s aware that you have completely captured his heart within this moment, and decided to prolong your stay. You were determined to take another chance with this life with him. Consider this a new beginning, where there is no more torment with one another. Maybe forgetting your past burdens was the best choice you made.

You do admit that it was a night, an enchanting night to remember. That feeling will never cease to make you feel that way.

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sals-sonic · 11 months

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Art is much more fun when you start caring less about "the right way to do things", and focus on what you think would be really cool and awesome!

Experiment with colors and shapes, go crazy with the power of creation that is resting on your fingertips, indulge in your fantasy and unleash your creativity!!

The passion for what you create will encourage you to improve your skills!

#posted this on aethy first #totally forgot to post this here omg #proship #proship positivity #profic #art positivity #pro fic #proship please interact #pro fiction #my post

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tojibrat · 4 months

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╰⪼┆ cw: (f)reader, unprotected sex, use of ‘daddy’ Once, pet names (sweet thing, baby, pretty/good/sweet girl), light slapping, praise, hint at (f)receiving oral sex at the end, mediocre writing lol | mdni

toji loves to cum inside you. he can’t help himself when he sees his thick load slowly pump down your slick folds from out of your abused hole… it nearly makes his brain melt. he can’t help himself when his cock springs to life again and feels the urge to stuff you full with another load.

he slides his glistening length inside you again and it makes your head spin. your eyes are screwed so tightly shut as the feeling of toji’s thick cock dragging against your plump walls was beginning to become too much.

“to..toji… can’t take ‘nymore.. please..!”

toji grunts in response to your pleas, but they inevitably fall on deaf ears. “that’s too bad, sweet thing. you’ll take what i give ya. i know how much you like to be stuffed full, baby. you’ll take another load for me, for your daddy, won’t you, pretty girl?”

rough, calloused hands keep an ironclad grip on your hips as toji keeps a steady pace, knocking his hips relentlessly against the fat of your ass, taking a moment to close his eyes and take a listen to the sloppy sounds from down below. he opens them once more to glance down at your face, smushed to the side against a pillow, making a smug smile tug against his scarred mouth. he can’t stop himself from running his mouth, groaning, “y’hear how sopping wet you are? how messy i make this pussy? tell me, pretty.”

soft whimpers are all that escape you as you try to form words, brain practically spilling out your ears from toji’s firm thrusts. toji leans down, and suddenly you feel a slight sting on your cheek from toji’s hand coming down several times on your hot face, bringing your attention back to him. “words, baby. you know how to use ‘em.”

toji trails scorching kisses down the side of your neck as far as he was able before straightening out again, which gives you enough motivation to successfully spit your words out, “i-i hear it, i-it’s good, ‘s so good, toji!”

your sweet words prove to be enough to finally make toji slowly cease his movements, stilling and pressing up into you as far as your bodies would allow, twitching dick abruptly spilling thick, milky ropes into your fatigued body. toji savors the feeling of steadily sliding his cum-covered cock out of you, yet again watching his seed escape and dribble from your cute little hole. he thumbs it around your folds, even pushing some back inside, all the while snickering, “there we go, baby. what a good girl you are, huh? knew my sweet girl could do it.”

you feel yourself tiredly smile at his praise before you realize toji’s shifted downwards between your legs, and you’re flipped over on your back before you know it.

“now, how about i clean this mess up?”

#🧸#⤳ toji!#toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #my first actual smut fic wow….#IM NERVOUS #be nice to me if it sucks im getting back into writing.. Slowly…#sorry if some things dont make sense lol #also im sorry if my writing seems similar to other people im taking a lot of inspiration but i truly dont mean to plagiarize or anything 😭#its like 3 am when im writing this omg gn #paw divider by hitobaby

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miasmaghoul · 10 months

Note

Trans dew starts leaking milk and Swiss is like, very very happy about it for completely holy reasons and not cause he wants to lick it all up and tell see how amazing is and dew is just gone, subspace, as high as he can be without the help of drugs

gjhfjd okay yeah sure. maybe not exactly what you requested, but this is the way the ghouls demanded this happen. 🙏

(what is a ficlet this is so long)

(also warning for potential body dysmorphia/dysphoria. dew is fine with all this, but I am not trans and would not want to presume that things like unexpected breast growth would be easy for everyone. please proceed with caution ♡)

Swiss cannot stop staring.

"I swear they're bigger than usual," he mutters, squinting across the common room. On the next couch over, Mountain looks up from his book.

"Huh? What are?"

He follows Swiss's suspicious gaze to where it rests on Dew in the kitchen. The little ghoul is busy putting away dishes, bobbing his head and humming along to whatever is pumping though his headphones. He's in his standard skinny jeans and tight black t-shirt, golden hair pulled into a tight knot at the base of his skull. To Mountain, he looks the same as ever.

To Swiss, though,

"His fuckin' tits."

The ghoul spits the word like it stings, but that couldn't be further from the truth. The thought has been on his mind all week, and every time Swiss focuses on it his cock throbs. He holds up both hands.

"I swear to Satan they're like," he makes a honking motion with his hands, one that Dew would whack him for,"...puffier than usual."

Mountain makes a rather undignified sound in response, shooting Swiss a raised eyebrow. Swiss doesn't so much as glance back. Mountain clears his throat, looking back at Dew with pinking cheeks.

"I, uh...I guess? Maybe?" Mountain tilts his head, adjusts his glasses. "I think you'd know better than I would, I'm more familiar with Rain's than Dew's."

Normally he would be correct, but -

"He won't let me see 'em!" Swiss whines - whines - pressing an unsubtle hand to his tingling dick. "All week, no matter how much I ask, he just -" Swiss waves at the air in lieu of finishing his sentence, eyes fixed solidly on Dew's chest. Mountain gives him a curious look.

"Is he okay?"

"He says he is," Swiss shrugs. He trusts Dew to say otherwise. "Ate him out for two hours last night, he sure as shit wasn't shy about that." Swiss gives himself another squeeze at the memory, sniffing his mustache on the off chance it still held Dew's musk. "He just won't take his fuckin' shirt off!" Mountain gives him a derisive chuff, settling back in with his book.

"What a tragedy," he murmurs, crossing his legs. Swiss pays his sarcasm no mind.

"C'mon Mount, you know how weak he is to nipple play." Dew folds like a house of cards at the slightest brush, and Swiss has spent many an evening wringing pleasured noises from the little ghoul's throat using nothing but those sensitive buds. And yet, "He won't let me near 'em. Won't even touch 'em for me!"

"Sound the alarms," Mountain deadpans, turning his page, "call the police, please, won't someone help us."

Swiss hurls a pillow at his crotch and Mountain catches it easily, tucking it under his neck. Swiss grumbles at him and slumps back into his seat, refocusing on the little ghoul. Watching him put away silverware.

He knows he's right. He knows Dew's chest is obvious now, has been getting more and more so over the course of the last week. Maybe longer, but he can only really think about the days that have become Dew's perma-shirt era. He can see that slight swell, made all the more noticable by Dew's stiff nipples. They poke out through his shirt constantly now, and it makes Dew's denial of access so much worse.

Swiss sighs and shoves himself from his seat, sauntering over under the guise of rummaging through the fridge for a drink. But then Dew stands on his tiptoes to put away a glass, exposes a stripe of his midriff, and Swiss is forced to divert. He slips warm fingers around Dew's skinny hips and the little ghoul jumps, nearly dropping his next glass.

"What the - fucker, warn a guy!" Dew sets the glass down and pulls out his earbuds, leaning away to fix Swiss with a scowl.

"Sorry," Swiss lies, "your hips looked like they missed me."

He hooks his chin over the little ghoul's shoulder and glances down while Dew snorts out a disbelieving laugh. The sound makes his chest jiggle the tiniest, most insignificant amount, and Swiss can't believe the things that movement does to the warmth in his belly.

"Sure they did," Dew murmurs, resting his own hands over Swiss's. He hums, nosing at the little ghoul's warm throat. He smells like whiskey and dishsoap for the most part, but he's carried a new scent for a short while now. Like...maple syrup, Swiss thinks.

"Not the only thing that misses me," he tries, brushing his thumbs under Dew's shirt, just along the bottom of his ribcage. Dew goes still, and Swiss steels himself to edge higher. Just enough to barely graze the skin he misses so much. The little ghoul gasps.

Then, as he's done every day for the last week, Dew stops his hands.

"Swiss," he warns, low. Swiss whines. He can't help it.

"Sorry, Sparky," he sighs, wrapping both arms around Dew's little waist instead. He knows when not to push. "I just -"

"Not here," Dew adds suddenly, and Swiss blinks.

"Huh?"

"My room," Dew mutters, shrugging off Swiss's grip and picking his headphones up. "Wait for me."

Swiss doesn't quite know what to do with himself. He really doesn't have much of a choice but to listen, Dew already going back to his task. Mountain catches his eye as he heads to he door and Swiss can only shrug.

Dew doesn't make him wait long, slipping through the door while Swiss sits at his fireplace, bouncing an anxious knee. The door is barely shut when Swiss looks up, and before he knows what's happening he has a lap full of Dewdrop.

Swiss groans when the little ghoul shoves his tongue in his mouth, kissing hard and deep, starved. Spidery fingers thread though his tight curls and Swiss's hands fly to Dew's waist, gripping tight.

"Dew," he manages to gasp between strokes of Dew's tongue, "fuck, what's - mmph - what're-"

"They miss you too," Dew blurts out, kissing a messy path down Swiss's throat. "Fuck, they miss you too."

Swiss groans deep in his chest, loud enough to nearly rattle the windows, and his bruising grip on Dew's waist loosens. He means to slide warm hands up his slender sides, to cup the little mounds he adores so much. Means to feel how hard those peaked nipples of his are beneath his palms.

Before he can, Dew catches him again. Grabs both of his wrists in his surprisingly strong grip.

Swiss doesn't mean the growl he looses, but it earns an eye roll from Dew just the same.

"Shush," he nips at Swiss's neck with chastising fangs. "Just...just gimme a second."

"For what?" Swiss adjusts the little ghoul, gets him in a proper straddle. He can feel the familiar warmth of Dew's cunt right through both of their jeans. "You finally gonna tell me what's been up your ass all week?"

"Rain, mostly," Dew says without missing a beat, and Swiss can't help but laugh. The corners of Dew's eyes crinkle, but there's something lining his face that Swiss can't quite place. He tips his head, leans in to press a kiss to the tip of Dew's nose.

"Seriously, what's up with you? You said nothing was wrong, but -"

"Promise you won't laugh," Dew interrupts softly, and Swiss cuts himself off with a confused sound. "I'll - I'll show you," Dew mumbles, fiddling with the buttons on Swiss's shirt, "if you promise not to laugh."

Swiss blinks up at him, and it hits him all at once how...vulnerable Dew looks. His proud features clouded with apprehension, kiss-reddened lips caught between his fangs, slight shoulders drawn tight. He tries very hard not to look at the way Dew's posture makes his tits that much more obvious.

"Oh, Dew," he says gently, resting a hand on his flushed cheek, "I only laugh at you when you want me to, you know that."

"I mean it," Dew insists, eyes hard. "It's...it's weird, and if you fuckin' laugh -"

Swiss cuts him off with a gentle kiss, and Dew relaxes just enough for Swiss to pull him closer.

"I promise, spitfire," he assures the little ghoul, pressing warm lips to the hollow of his throat. "I promise."

After a moment, Dew sighs. Nods. He pats Swiss's hands again and Swiss reluctantly lets go, silently mourning the loss of Dew's unnatural heat. But he lets Dew stand, lets him step back so Swiss can watch him pluck at the hem of his t-shirt. Swiss squeezes at himself though his jeans, cock fat and warm against his thigh. Dew watches him like a hawk, and after a beat takes a deep breath.

In one quick, smooth motion Dew strips off his shirt, and Swiss's dick twitches so hard he grunts, mouth watering at the beautiful sight before him.

The barely-there bumps Dew usually carried were a distant memory, his tits swollen into luscious, perky mounds that sit perfectly on his chest. His nipples are more pronounced too, stiff and flushed darker than their usual sweet pink. The rings threaded through them sparkle in the lamplight. Swiss can't help the way he gawps at them, and to his credit Dew doesn't try to hide. Hell, he's staring too. Frowning down at his chest.

"I knew they got bigger," Swiss mumbles without really meaning too, but it pulls a chuckle from Dew regardless.

"You've been staring enough to know," he grumbles, but there's something nervy threaded through the words. Takes away the acerbic edge they're meant to carry.

"Why?"

Not that it matters, but he can't help be curious. He's not even sure which 'why' he's asking - why they'd grown? Or why Dew had kept them hidden? Both, he supposes. He can't imagine why Dew thought he would actually laugh at this - all he wants is to bury his face in Dew's perfect little tits and never come up for air again.

"Dunno," Dew says with a shrug, and they bounce. Swiss starts to sweat. Dew brings those elegant hands of his up to cup his little tits and Swiss's eyes nearly bug out of his head. "They started swelling last week, I don't -" Dew gives them the lightest squeeze and it pulls a hiss from him. "They're so -"

"If you say 'sensitive' I'm gonna cum in my pants," Swiss announces, perhaps a touch dramatic, but it pulls a sound he really likes from Dew anyway. Honestly, it doesn't feel all that dramatic to Swiss. His balls hurt more and more the longer he ogles Dew's chest.

"That's the one," the little ghoul mumbles, weighing them in his palms. Swiss leaks copiously against his thigh. He's losing his mind, he's certain of it. It's spilling right out of his dick. He watches Dew give them a fondle, watches the way supple flesh gives under his fingertips. It's stunning.

He may just spill in his pants after all.

"Sore, too," the little ghoul adds, but he doesn't frame it like a complaint. "But, uh," Dew swallows, scratching at the back of his neck. "That's...that's not the weird part."

Swiss forces himself to look up at Dew's face, then. Drawn by the hesitance in the words. Swiss comes back to himself some at the sight, the hand on his clothed cock going still.

Dew looks terrified. Bright red and breathing faster, eyes blown so dark. Swiss pushes himself from his chair without a thought, settling himself on his knees before the little ghoul and holding his slender waist.

"Dew, baby, what is it?" He strokes rough thumbs over soft skin, watching Dew take careful breaths through his nose. "Are you sure -"

"It's weird," Dew insists, and oh, maybe that isn't terror Swiss sees on his face. "Swiss, I - fuck, just look."

Dew grabs hold of his hair, forces Swiss to look square at his puffy chest. His other hand curls around one of those firm mounds, squeezes, and -

"Oh Lucifer."

All the air rushes from Swiss's lungs when the first drips spill from Dew's nipple, flowing over pale skin. It's barely anything, no more than a few drops, but it forces palpable silence into the air. Swiss stares at Dew's tit while Dew stares down at him. Time probably doesn't freeze, but it sure feels like it does.

"I told you it was weird," Dew blurts, suddenly jerking away. Trying to step back, to cross his arms.

"Dew," he manages a hundred years later, voice thick, "was...did...are..." Swiss forces himself to look up, jaw slack. "...milk?"

Swiss pulls him close before he can, burying his face in Dew's neck and holding him so tight Dew yelps.

"Not weird," Swiss promises, kissing the words into overheated skin. "Not...not weird, firecracker, unholy shit."

Dew makes a hurt sound, but wraps his arms around Swiss's shoulders anyway. Holds him tight, tight as he can manage. Swiss can hear him sniffling, just a little, but it's nearly impossible for him to focus on anything but the press of Dew's chest against his own. He's really trying, he swears, but fuck is it hard.

"Dew, please," he pants, hips rolling into nothing and drooling against the little ghoul's throat. He knows how desperate he sounds and Swiss could not possibly care less. Not with how hard his cock throbs, how quick Dew's breathing has gotten. "Please, can I...you gotta lemme touch 'em, baby boy, please -"

"Shut the fuck up and do it," Dew demands, and Swiss needs no other encouragement.

The feel of them is exquisite, firm with just enough give. They still don't quite fill his palms, but it's close. Dew's jaw hangs lax while Swiss explores, his touch soft and reverent. His gaze remains firmly on Dew's dusky nipples, on the quick rise and fall of his narrow chest, but he remains hyper aware of Dew's mannerisms. His little gasps and grunts. Keeps himself on high alert for the first sign of any undue shame or discomfort.

"Did you really think I'd laugh at you?" Swiss traces the edges of his areolas with his thumbs and Dew's breath catches, muscles in his stomach fluttering.

"Dunno," Dew sighs, hands stroking Swiss's forearms. Grounding himself. "I don't...I thought -"

"Can I kiss them?"

Dew sways like he's dizzy, makes a gurgling sound, and then he's grabbing at Swiss's hair to drag him in. He wants to chuckle, but it's easy to groan instead.

Dew moans long and low when his Swiss's lips meet his heated flesh, when he kisses along the slope of that sweet little handful. His nails rake over Swiss's scalp when he presses a wet, sucking kiss to its underside, just where those stunning droplets fell earlier.

Swiss drops a little baby kiss onto the very tip of his nipple, and Dew makes a truly pathetic sound. Swiss licks his lips when he pulls back, cupping both of those little tits like they're precious. He gazes up at the little ghoul, drunk on the very idea of what he's about to do.

He gives them a firm squeeze, Dew chokes on his inhale, and the sound that escapes Swiss when those gorgeous nipples leak is pure sin.

A few pale drops flow over smooth skin, and Swiss is powerless but to lick after them. Every slide of his tongue is an offering at Dew's altar, worshipful and deeply needy. It tastes like mana from the heavens, like sweet sap from the tree of life itself. Swiss can't believe he gets to taste it, that Dew almost kept this hidden from him. It's sensational. Life-altering.

"Oh," Dew gasps when he squeezes again, milks out a little more, and Swiss stares up at him with blown-out adoration. "S-Swiss, will...fuck, will you suck on them?"

He doesn't have to ask twice.

Swiss doesn't know which of them it louder when he wraps his lips around a firm nub and begins to suckle, massaging it with his tongue. Dew gasps, covering Swiss's hand on his chest with his own. Encouraging him to massage there too.

Swiss's eyes roll back in his head when Dew starts to let down, sweet warmth coating his tongue.

He doesn't know when it happens, but at some point Swiss collapses. Slides from his knees and ends up sitting on the floor with his legs spread. Dew's straddling his lap again, hands in his hair while Swiss drinks him down, his slight body twitchy and coated in a fine film of sweat.

He doesn't know when it happens, but at some point Dew fumbles with both of their flys. Swiss can hear the rasp of zippers in the distance, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is the way Dew fills his mouth, the way he gasps and keens when Swiss gives him a firm suck. He pays attention to little else, hardly recognizes that the little ghoul is trying to shift.

Then searing heat envelopes his cock, and Swiss jerks so hard he pops off Dew's nipple. Drools a mouthful of milk down the little ghoul's belly, watching in a daze as it gathers in his barely-there happy trail. Dew's clit pokes stiff and red from his folds, and as Swiss watches his length disappear into Dew's cunt he swears everything else fades away.

"Why'd you stop?" Dewdrop whimpers, gasping as he takes Swiss to the hilt. They both moan, Swiss throbs, and when the little ghoul rubs his little tits in his face it takes everything Swiss has not to pin him to the floor and fuck him brainless. "C'mon," Dew goads, breaths uneven and so shaky, "let...let me feed you."

Swiss thinks he may not survive this night.

~~~~~~~

"You really don't know why?"

Dew shakes his head, humming when Swiss works out a knot in his shoulder. They've been in the tub for ages now, the little ghoul floaty and absent after taking Swiss's knot twice over. He's mostly back now, and it seems like as good a time as any to ask.

"Nope," Dew says, voice worn. "Asked Aeth too, he couldn't figure it out either."

Swiss wants to ask more questions, wants to help, but the Dew yawns. Snuggles himself back into Swiss's broad chest with a soft sigh.

"Can we sleep now?" He presses a kiss to Swiss's pec. "'m tired." Swiss drops a kiss into his squeaky-clean hair.

"'Course," he says, patting Dew's shoulder. "Can you stand, fireball?"

"Dunno," Dew murmurs, shrugging. "Carry me anyway."

"Swiss?"

Swiss snorts, but he's still too blissed out to argue. It's easy to slide himself from the steaming water, hoisting Dew over the side and sitting him on the vanity for drying purposes. Easy to towel the both of them off while Dew magickally blows out his hair. Easy to dress Dew in an oversized tee, one that won't chafe his tender nipples, and soft boxers. Easy to carry him around the mess they left on the floor and deposit Dew's spent body onto the sheets and get him tucked in. The little ghoul purrs up a storm through it all, sweet and sleepy as he is.

Swiss moves to climb in after him, but Dew perks up before he can.

"Yeah?"

"Tea?"

"Can I have some tea?"

Swiss raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Dew replies with a nod, snuggling back into the pillows. "There's a new one Mount made, has a purple tag. It's nice. Please?"

Swiss chuffs. The little guy really is sweet like this. He ruffles Dew's hair and smiles.

"Whatever you want, princess."

Dew chirrups and Swiss pads his way to the kitchen in search of tea. It's late, he can hear snoring from behind most of the doors in the hall, and when Swiss strolls into the common room he's surprised to find Mountain still on the couch. His book lies abandoned on the floor, glasses askew, and Swiss rolls his eyes with a smirk.

"Wake up, grasshopper," he lilts, patting the other ghoul on the chest. Mountain jolts awake with a gasp, blinking as he gets his bearings.

"Ugh," he groans, back cracking audibly when he pushes himself up. "What time is it?"

"Late," Swiss replies, covering up a yawn as he gathers a mug and their electric kettle. "Where's your purple tea?"

"My huh?"

"Teabags," Swiss clarifies, filling the kettle.

"Oh, uh," Mountain shoves himself from the couch on autopilot, easier for him to show than to tell.

He digs through the cabinet over the stove, pulling down a silver box with eight internal dividers. He groans at the state of its contents, what was undoubtedly once organized now in a messy pile.

"Purple is all I know," Swiss says, yawning again. "Dew said it was new one you made, I got nothin' else."

"What kind did you want?"

"Purple, huh?" Mountain sorts through the bags while the kettle heats, and as he does Swiss watches his brow slowly furrow. "Wait..." Mountain starts smelling the little bundles, huffs out a dammit, Sunshine, and Swiss raises an eyebrow.

"Something wrong?"

"Did you say Dew's been drinking this?" Now it's Swiss's turn to frown.

"I guess? He just asked me to make him the purple tea. I didn't ask questions. Why?" It takes him a second to notice Mountain's cheeks going pink. "Why?"

"These...shouldn't be here," he says quietly, making a pile of all the bags with purple tags. "I told Sunshine when she was helping me, violet and pink to the infirmary, lilac and peach to the kitchen. She said she...she said -"

Swiss gives him a look, and Mountain hangs his head.

"These are ones Aether requested," he explains, "for maternity. They're...they're to help with lactation."

The last word is said on a sigh, Mountain rubbing at his eyes as the realization hits. The kettle starts to whistle, and Swiss doesn't acknowledge it. Lets the thing shut itself off while the wheels turn in his head.

He should certainly tell Dew about this. Let him know what was happening, why his body had so suddenly begun to betray him. While the thoughts churn he can hear Mountain yammering on - he's sorry, it's his fault, any effects should fade in a couple of weeks without continued exposure. Swiss smiles to himself, turning to gather the kettle and Dew's chipped old Looney Tunes mug.

He grabs a purple labeled bag from the pile, and Mountain stares at him like he has three heads. Swiss shrugs as he sets it in the mug, pouring water over it and noticing with some amusement that the same maple syrupy scent Dew's been soaked in recently floats up on the steam.

"Take the rest to Aether," Swiss says, smirking while he dunks the teabag, watching it stain the water, "I'll tell him this is the last one." Mountain frowns.

"Swiss -"

"He's could add his own milk to this mug, Mount. One more round won't hurt him."

"Enjoy it," Swiss murmurs, pressing a kiss to Dew's temple. "That was the last purple one."

Swiss clicks his tongue, winks, and wanders back to Dew's room without another word.

He finds Dew half asleep and purring. Swiss pushes the mug into his bony hands while he curls in beside the little ghoul, basking in the soft, happy sound he makes at the first sip.

"Mmm, I'll get Mount to make more," Dew hums, drinking down the boiling hot tea as though it were tap water. "'S good shit."

He drains the mug quickly, yawning and shoving it back into Swiss's hands before hunkering down again. Swiss rolls his eyes, setting the thing to the side and switching off the bedside lamp. Swiss molds himself to Dew's back, wraps an arm around his waist.

Dew guides Swiss's hand up his shirt instead, settles it on one of his pert little tits, and Swiss selfishly hopes the swelling lasts a while longer.

He won't let Dew waste a drop.

#miasma's work #the band ghost fic #this is once again just a full fic omg #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swiss/dew #swiss x dew #transmasc dewdrop #my first foray into lactation! huzzah!#transghoul Tuesday

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