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temptingfatetakingnames · 6 months

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Open mic night was Eddie’s favourite night of the week. It wasn’t often that the group was able to make the drive up to Indy but everyone was finally available this time. Gareth, Jeff and Grant were going in his van. Steve was taking Robin, Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy. Steve hadn’t seemed too interested when Eddie had invited them but he owed Robin something and she forced him into being their designated driver for the evening’s festivities. It would be the first time the groups would be mixing and Eddie was incredibly anxious about it.

He loved Gareth, Jeff and Grant but they had no filters whatsoever and even though Steve might not be a douchebag anymore, he had still been King Steve and that didn’t just go away because they had fought interdimensional demons together. He also couldn’t explain to the guys the real reason he was hanging out with Steve without mentioning said interdimensional demons. So. Eddie was anxious. But it was open mic night and he was going to hope for the best. He fucking loved open mic night.

“Tell me again how you became friends with Harrington?” Grant asked from the back seat.

Eddie couldn’t help but sigh, he had explained (lied) to them all multiple times but they could sense that something was missing from the story.

“I told you! Henderson introduced us. You know how he always went on and on about him, had to see for myself.”

“And you hit it off? Just like that?” Jeff asked.

Eddie shrugged. That was the story and he was sticking to it.

“But why did you have to invite him to open mic night?” Gareth whined.

“Chill out. We’re going to have a good time,” Eddie said as he reached for the radio dial. He turned the music up louder, ending the Q and A portion of the ride.

When they pulled up at the bar, he saw that Steve and the rest of the gang were already there and waiting outside. He parked the van and went to meet them. Steve was standing a bit off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, scowling at Robin. He looked good. A simple black t-shirt showed off his arms and tight acid washed jeans showed off his ass. Eddie assumed Robin had helped him pick the outfit, he had never seen Steve wear black before. Nancy and Johnathan were holding hands and leaning into each other’s space and Argyle was finishing off the last few tokes of his joint.

Robin spotted him and the guys and waved them over.

“Hey, Eddie!” she said with a bright smile lighting up her face.

Eddie tucked one hand into his front pocket and used the other to wave back. “Hey guys, this is Grant, Jeff, and Gareth,” he said pointing at each of them in turn. “This is Robin, Nancy, Johnathan, Argyle and Steve.”

Introducing them all to each other might have seemed a little silly – they did all go to high school together. Well, except for Argyle – but it felt right, too. Eddie wanted them to get along and making introductions felt like a new start. They all nodded at each other, somewhat warily before moving to the door. They didn’t intermingle – group lines still clearly demarcated and Eddie sighed.

Wayne was good friends with the owner of the bar, so he let Eddie and his friends drink a bit. Usually just a pitcher or two of his cheapest beer, which was completely fine with him. Beer was beer as far as he was concerned and he wasn’t going to complain when he was getting it for free while he was still underaged. The place wasn’t too full yet, he liked to arrive a little early so he could get a spot near the front of the stage. He got everyone settled at the table and then dragged Jeff off to the bar to help him with the drinks.

“Hey there, my main man Moe,” Eddie sing-songed as he approached the man behind the counter. He was Wayne’s age with wrinkles around his eyes and grey in his hair. He and Wayne went way back, the best of friends even though they were complete opposites. Where Wayne could be quiet and standoffish, Moe was charismatic and brash – they balanced each other.

“Eddie!” Moe called back and smiled widely at him. “Good to see ya, how’s Wayne?”

“Wayne’s great! He says hello.”

“How many glasses?” Moe asked as he started to fill up a pitcher of beer. “You brought a big group this time.”

“Oh, uh – nine!... Please.”

Moe set the pitcher on the counter before turning to grab and stack a bunch of cups. Jeff picked up the cups and Eddie took the pitcher.

“Thanks, Moe.”

Moe waved him off, still smiling.

He and Jeff made their way back to the table. Eddie was pleased to see that the two groups were intermingling a bit when he got back. Robin was chatting with Grant and Gareth, which made sense – they probably had the most in common. Johnathan and Nancy were sitting side by side, listening. Argyle was currently a space cadet, staring at the popcorned ceiling like it was the night sky. And Steve – well Steve had his arms across his chest and was leaning back like he wished he was anywhere else. Whatever, he could be a grumpy goose all he wanted. Eddie placed the pitcher in the center and Jeff started handing out the cups.

“So, what’s the King been up to since graduating?” Gareth asked and then took a sip of beer. Eddie rolled his eyes. The question was innocent enough but the way Gareth asked it made it sound like he already knew the answer and it couldn’t be anything good.

“Family Video re-opened, so me and Robs have been working,” he said and shrugged, taking the question and the way it was asked in a surprisingly good stride.

“That’s it? Working at Family Video?” Grant chimed in with a smirk.

Everyone could read between the lines of what Grant and Gareth were saying – the great Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, King of Hawkins High graduated but going nowhere – Working a menial service industry job that he probably hated. Eddie didn’t know if Steve had any other plans. He knew Robin and Nancy were all set to go off to college once they graduated but he and Steve had never really talked about their life goals. Maybe he was happy with an easy job and no stress. There were worse things, he supposed. But he also couldn’t imagine getting stuck in fucking Hawkins.

“Yup,” Steve replied. “That’s it.”

“That is not it, Steve!” Robin said from across the table. “Why don’t you tell them –” Her words were cut off when Moe walked onto the stage and announced that open mic night had officially begun.

A cheer went around the room and usually Eddie would be the first one to go up to the mic but he wanted Robin to finish her sentence. It was clear she wasn’t going to when the cheers finally quieted and a man from the back of the room approached the stage. Eddie listened but he found himself distracted; he hated mysteries. Puzzles needed to be solved or else he felt them like an itch in the back of his mind. He would need to bring the conversation back around to Steve later so he could find out what else the man had going on.

When the first performance ended to polite claps, Eddie jumped up to go next. He loved putting on a show. Moe always had an acoustic and electric guitar on the stage for anyone who wanted to use them. Eddie grabbed the electric guitar and strummed a few chords, testing it out before he went up to the microphone. He usually stuck to more rock and roll songs for open mic night over the heavier stuff he performed with Corroded Coffin. It was nice to be able to do both and he loved it when the crowd sang along with him. He finished his slowed down version of For Whom the Bells Tolls with an exaggerated bow.

A few regulars he knew went up after him. Jeff did a great acoustic version of Number of the Beast which Eddie had not expected to work at all. Robin and Nancy did a Blondie’s song together that wasn’t half bad. They had nice voices, and Robin at least managed to stay on key. Blondie was no joke.

They were on their third pitcher, the mood at the table loosened as they talked and sang and drank. Eddie and Steve only had one beer each before switching to sodas – a stipulation of Moes that anyone he brought to drink had a safe drive home. Eddie had never bent this rule, he appreciated Moe giving them a space to come and drink and he wouldn’t get him in trouble by driving drunk.

“Steve! Your turn!” Nancy yelled.

Steve shook his head. “I’m not getting up there. I’m only here because Robin made me come.”

Jeff and Gareth shared a look between them, rolling their eyes.

“Afraid to sing in front of us, Harrington?” Eddie asked. He knew that Steve wasn’t afraid of anything. His dumb bravery would put the strongest barbarian to shame but sometimes heckling worked and Eddie really wanted to hear him sing.

Steve just leaned back calmly. “Not gunna work on me, Munson.”

“Steve,” Robin whined and stretched out his name, “you have to sing.”

“Nope,” Steve responded.

Robin leaned over so she was practically in his lap and squeezed his cheeks together.

“You have to sing, Steve,” she said with the utmost seriousness.

Something passed between them because Steve’s eyes got large and frightened and Robin snickered. She had something on him! Something he didn’t want her to tell them and she was threatening him with it. Good job, Robin!

Steve sighed deeply before heading up the stage as the crowd hooted and hollered.

Robin leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“He’s probably going to sing Tears for Fears or Abba or something,” Eddie said to the group.

“My money is on Madonna,” Nancy chimed in.

Robin snorted. “Duran Duran!”

They all laughed.

Steve grabbed the microphone and took a deep breath, looking out into the crowd. His first note echoed in the room and the talking and laughter ceased immediately, all eyes turned and focused on the stage.

I get up in the evenin’ And I ain’t got nothing to say Come home in the mornin’ I go to bed feelin’ the same way I ain’t nothin’ but tired Man, I’m just tired and bored with myself Hey there, baby, I could use just a little help

Not a sound could be heard from anyone in the room as they all listened in rapt silence. Steve’s voice was ethereal, perfectly pitched, beautiful. Eddie had never heard anything like it.

You can't start a fire You can't start a fire without a spark This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

The thing was, Eddie liked Steve. He was a better person and friend than he could have ever expected of the former king. But he was a surface level person, what you saw was what you got. He could be sassy and mean and didn’t seem to dive too deeply into his own feelings. Steve was simple and he liked simple things. He was Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington for Christ sakes, he could not have the deep well of emotion and pain that he was conveying in this song.

But he did.

And he was.

Eddie turned to Robin and hissed in her ear as quietly as he could, “did you know about this?”

But she was looking at Steve just as dumbstruck as the rest of them and slowly shook her head.

You sit around gettin' older There's a joke here somewhere and it's on me I'll shake this world off my shoulders Come on, baby, the laugh's on me

Steve was baring his goddamn soul. And maybe Eddie had still been judging him too harshly on who he used to be – because they had fought a fucking war together. But it had always seemed to just…glide off Steve. They must have missed it – the darkness and loneliness in his eyes that Eddie was seeing now. They were all seeing it now. Nancy and Robin were both staring at him like they had never seen him before. Eddie was ashamed. How often did he lament people for thinking they knew him? For judging him on his looks before they even tried to know him? And now he had done it, too. But this was worse because Steve was his friend… and he hadn’t seen it. He had seen a piece of the man and assumed it for the whole.

Stay on the streets of this town And they'll be carvin' you up alright They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now, baby, gimme just one look

This blew all of his preconceived notions out of the water. Steve was singing like his goddamn heart was breaking and no one in the world understood him. It was a masterpiece and Eddie was floored. Absolutely floored. He had heard Dancing in the Dark a million times. But Steve… The way he sang it gave the words such a deeper meaning. It was beautiful and haunting and pained. It changed everything about the song… and everything he thought he knew about Steve Harrington.

You can't start a fire Worryin' about your little world fallin' apart This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

He held the last note, beautifully pitched, before he let it go. The room was silent, everyone as awestruck as Eddie. After a pregnant pause everyone erupted into cheers and whistles and Steve dropped his head as a blush starting creeping over his cheekbones – his hair falling over his face. Adorable.

Oh. Oh no.

No. No. No.

He did not just think that.

Appreciative eyes followed Steve as he made his way back to their table and Eddie bristled. He wanted to growl and bare his teeth at them all.

“You have the voice of an angel, my dude,” Argyle said.

“Thanks man,” Steve said as he sat back down.

Robin immediately attacked him, shoving him and screaming, “what the hell was that?”

“You wanted me to sing! So, I sang!” he yelled back.

“I didn’t know you could sing, Steve! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Steve shrugged. “Never came up, I guess.”

“Never came up!? Neve came up?” Robin’s voice kept increasing in volume and incredulity. Eddie was right there with her. “I am betrayed! Betrayed, Steve!”

Steve rolled his eyes at her dramatics. “Calm down, Buckley. It was just a song.”

“It wasn’t just a song though, was it?” Nancy asked quietly.

Steve tensed up and ducked his head but not before Eddie saw something dark move through his eyes. He wanted to ask if Steve was okay, wanted to drag him somewhere quiet where he could talk to him and ask him questions and find out what was behind his eyes – what was behind that song. Eddie wanted to split his skull open and peer inside and learn everything there was to know about Steve Harrington. He couldn’t take his eyes off him, was begging desperately in his head for Steve to look up, to look at him, too.

Who are you, Steve Harrington?

Eddie’s mind itched at the unexpected puzzle.

Part 2

#steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #Steve Harrington can sing #steve x eddie #robin buckley

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chaosandmarigolds · 15 days

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Festival

based on this AMAZING ask!!

“Oi, Olls,” Simon looks down at the skinned arm and then back to the utterly unaffected five-year-old (who just took a rather nasty tumble off the slide). It was an easy back day at the county fair, which for the record he thought was a horrible idea with a five-month old yet Johnny said it would be fun for Oliver and his niece, Jane. Simon tried to get a good look at the wound, covered in dirt and pebbles, “Lad lemme-”

“Dad-dad, I got go- Janie! Wait up!” Oliver snipped in reply, pulling his arm away and trying to take off after his new friend, and he succeeded, taking off to the next ride wait line- where Jane was already standing among the groups of children and teens with the bright red balloon tied to her wrist.

Of course, he watched the boy run through the crowds and only stood to direct his gaze to Johnny as he stood up, not saying anything but trying to see past the groups to get a good look at the kids- but he could see the red balloon.

“Think the girls are havin fun?” Johnny asked, leaning onto the stroller.

To that Simon shrugged looking down to Tess, who was thankfully very much asleep amidst the loud noises, “‘m sure they are.”

“Shoppin, wine tasting annnn,” Johnny faltered as he thought, looking to the sky as Simon knelt down to fix the baby blanket. Though it was loud and the crowds were bustling it still had a sense of peace about it, small town, small fair but it was enough to make the two kids feel as if they were teleported to the best place on the planet. “An’- gah, Sarah said somethin else, can’t ‘member what though.”

“Jus gettin dolled up or somethin,” Simon mumbled under his breath and then placed a chaste kiss against the baby’s forehead before standing up to his full height, looking around for the same bright red balloon.

Only…the balloon was floating away.

It took about five strides to get from where he had been to the line where Olly and Jane were supposed to be, yet there was a stunning lack of them both.

He must have called the kid's names twice before Johnny had caught on to what was going on, yet the only thing Simon could think of doing was telling him to go get security, he asked the people if they had seen them- his voice harsh and causing the looks on the parent's face’s to pale.

He couldn’t find them.

No one seemed to even see them.

“A little boy- he’s missin his front tooth, striped shirt with a dinosaur on it.”

“I’m sorry man, that sounds like every kid I’ve seen today.”

…

“Jane,” Ollie said slowly following his friend reluctantly through the corridors of the ‘haunted house’ which they had snuck in through the back, since there was a thirteen-plus age restriction on the attraction, “Janie I reaaaalllly don’t think this is good idea.”

To that the four-year-old frowns, her pigtails swinging as she looks at him, the blue light and fog doing nothing to ease his fears, “Uncle Johnny always say we got face fears! An you said you are scared of the scary ghosts.”

“Scary is literally in name, Janie!” Ollie countered crossing his arms, “Uncle Johnny and my dad are gonna be mad.”

Jane shook her head, clawing up on the ladder to reach the main level, “Uncle Johnny doesn’t get mad at me, mum said it’s cus ‘m cute…Uncle Simon might get mad though.”

Ollie frowned from his spot, looking up at her as she began to disappear from the view, he couldn’t leave her alone, he was older than her and his dad did ask him to look over her. So, he swallowed down his fear and followed behind her, the steam and fog making it a bit hard to see for a moment before he was able to stand up again- the lights dim and red and the floor underneath them seemed to be uneasy, red liquid smeared along the rotted wood and the low groan of something was enough to make him want to cry.

However Janie was walking forward, so he quickly followed, moving to walk just a bit in front of her- grabbing her hand and doing his best to act brave when in reality he was not.

Ollie stopped walking when they heard a voice from behind, and he turned to look around for a split second, only for Jane to let out a shrill scream and he turned his head to look ahead again- to only mimic her scream. Shoving her behind himself as what seemed to be a literal monster jumped from behind a barrel.

“Oh SHIT! CUT IT!!”

A voice suddenly yelled, and then the monster ripped off the mask, revealing a normal-looking kid, probably sixteen, “Whoa-hey-hey, you guys- JERRY FUCKIN CUT THE LIGHTS.” The kid screamed at the ceiling for a moment for the overhead lights to flicker back on and the noises stopped.

“Hey,” The kid knelt down to look at the now sobbing children, “Hey, my name is Kyle. How’d ya-oh cmon…it’s okay, I’m not scary.”

“You-you ghost!” Ollie screamed.

“No! No, it’s just a costume, ya know on how on halloween you dress up? I’m jus dressing up, I’m not gonna-oh okay, you’re crying…again, okay…” Kyle tried to explain, then looking to his coworker, Margo who was dressed as a zombie, utterly hopeless about the now two screaming and sobbing toddlers.

…

“Called security,” Margo huffs out as she sits down to look at the toddlers, who were much more relaxed once they offered slushies, and she looks to Kyle, “They said two creepy guys said they lost their kids but thought they were lyin.”

Kyle frowns and leans back in his chair after he and Margo had made a lazy attempt at cleaning off their makeup and explained to the kids it seemed to calm them down, plus the slushies of course. “Hey kiddo, can you tell me your name? So the nice people-

“My dad says to not talk to strangers.”

Margo gives the kid a look and leans forward on the table, “He’s smart, that’s smart- but we need to-”

“Margo-”

“OLIVER.”

It would be an understatement to say Kyle and Margo picked those kids up within a millisecond, because what they saw were two men that could break them both in half within a second and who did not look like father material walking towards them.

“That’s my kid.” One of them barked out, pointing to the little boy, who was just happily sipping his slushy.

Kyle scoffs, “And I’m the fucking king of England.”

To that Margo tried to then play damage control, “Listen, I don’t want to have to call sec-”

“Uncle Johnny we saw scary ghost!!” The little girl exclaimed happily.

“See? That’s my niece and the boys mine. Give me my kid.”

Margo and Kyle exchanged looks and then looked to the little boy, who only caught on when he saw the man’s look and he nodded eagerly, messy hair falling in front of his face.

“That’s Ister Riley he and my mom are married. He’s my dad.”

…

“I jus wanna be brave ‘ike you Uncle Johnny,” Jane said as they drove home, still sipping her oversized slushie.

Johnny and Simon had agreed to not mention this, to act like it never happened, for their sake. “I know, princess, an’ yer so so brave.”

“I no longer scared of ghosts.” Ollie said mindlessly, staring out the window.

That caught Simon’s attention and he looked back through the rearview mirror, checking on Tess with a quick glance and then to Olliver, “Oi? Yeah?”

“Mmmhm, cause ghosts are jus nice people wearin costumes.”

(annnnyway that's it!! feedback and comments are the easiest way to let me know you liked my work!! thanks to everyone for their support!)

#simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfic #cod x you #simon riley x reader #cod fluff #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #mw2 ghost #dad!simon riley #ghost call of duty #dad simon riley #dad!ghost #coco's chaos <3 #coco’s pre k universe! <3

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toxicanonymity · 1 month

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The Wall (stepdad drabble)

1.5k | stepdad!Joel x f!reader | stepdad au SUMMARY: This ask about being at the pool. WARNINGS: I8+ drugs, possessive!joel, sexual tension, baiting, shotgunning, dirty talk, very risky touching in public, blue balls, hair pulling, mild manhandling?, mild degradation?, taunting use of "daddy" twice. A/N: Title is an album by Pink Floyd. Loose fit flashback before the holidays (old school SD). The latest present day is ✨It's Hard.

Joel hasn’t given in yet. So far, he’s fingered you in his office, but nothing more than that. Now both of you are going with your Mom on a work trip. The trip is in driving distance, and Joel doesn’t realize you’re going until you show up at their house packed and ready to go that morning. He’s flustered, and overall none too pleased. You’re wearing him down. You can tell.

You’re wearing a hoodie and short shorts. When you stop at a rest stop, your Mom goes to the bathroom and you and Joel get out of the car to stretch. You take your hoodie off, revealing a thin, low-cut tank top and no bra, then stretch with your hands behind your back. Joel tilts his head, watching you, eyes glued to your chest.

He takes a deep breath and doesn’t even bother looking up at your face as he complains, “Havin’ fun with all this?”

“What are you talking about?” you smile.

He scoffs. “You’re gonna be a pain in my ass all week, aren’t ya?”

You cross your arms under your boobs, pushing them together.

He adjusts himself and shakes his head.

—

During your Mom’s first work event, Joel disappears. He walks off somewhere to get away from you and remove temptation. Meanwhile, there’s a group of skater guys at the hotel. Probably college students, a little younger than you. You find them in the lobby and they smell like weed. They offer you some and you tell them maybe later, but out of boredom you stick around with them and go to the hotel bar. While you’re there, they flirt with you and give you a joint.

Joel gets back to the hotel and finds you in the bar with these guys all hitting on you. He can’t stand it. When he walks up, the scowl on his face delights you and offsets his festive Hawaiian shirt.

“Let’s go,” he commands, nodding toward the exit.

“Daddy,” you complain. His jaw clenches and his face blotches pink. Something comes over his eyes, and you can’t tell if the word has turned him on or just pissed him off. He steps forward and pushes through two of the guys. He grabs your arm, physically pulling you toward the exit. It makes you flutter between the legs. His grip doesn't loosen until you cross the lobby.

“What was that about?” he asks as he walks you down the hall, “Hmm?”

“What was what about?”

“You tryin’ to get gang banged, or what?” he grumbles.

“You trying to turn me on?” you ask. “It’s working.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath.

When you’re close to the hotel room, your mom rounds the corner and you look at him to watch his face fall.

“I’m going to the pool,” you announce, turning around to head the other direction.

—---

It’s just after dusk and you’re in a pool chair scrolling your phone when Joel comes out. You’re wearing a bikini top and daisy dukes. You put your phone down and check him out. He’s in red swim trunks that are a little shorter than standard, and a gray shirt with a black line drawing on it. He takes off the shirt.

“Okay, Hasselhoff,” you tease, checking out how his meaty thighs stretch the bright red shorts. “His suit was longer though.”

You pull out the joint and a lighter.

“Hey,” he cautions nervously, looking around. “That better not be what it looks like.”

You light it and he huffs.

“I know you do it too,” you tell him.

“You’re full of it,” he says.

“Am I? You keep your stash in the drawer with my panties you stole.”

That shuts him up. Wow, lucky guess. He’s silently flustered, and it turns you on. You take the joint with you and slip into the pool, feeling his eyes on you even as you’re turned the opposite direction.

“Gettin’ in, Daddy?” you ask as you put your arms on the ledge and rest your chin on your hand.

He warns, “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” You laugh and he doubles down. “Don’t.” Sounds like you actually pissed him off. He takes his glasses off, then adjusts himself before he stands up, and it makes you tingle. You look around the deck as he gets into the pool. It’s just a few couples, and they’re wrapped up in each other.

You’re both facing the wall of the pool with your arms on the ledge, faces turned toward each other. He’s to your left. You try to hand him the joint and he shakes his head no.

“Worried we’ll get grounded?” you ask and he just barely smirks. “That’d be fun,” you add saucily.

“You are real fuckin’ trouble,” he murmurs, slow and loaded. It almost sounds like he’s daring you. You reach your foot over to brush the inside of his ankle, and he doesn’t scold you or pull away.

He looks at the joint in your hand. You take a chance and bring it to his mouth. He briefly meets your eyes as he takes a puff and you can’t suppress your smile. Your eyes must have gone wide with joy. As he holds the smoke in his mouth, he looks like he's trying not to laugh, then it fades. His eyes fall to your mouth, then your bodies turn toward each other and he gets a little closer. His hand grazes your waist. You lean in, a few inches from his face. He leans ever so slightly toward you as he releases the smoke. Your mouths come closer and closer as you suck the smoke from his mouth. Your lips almost brush, and he abruptly pulls away as he finishes exhaling. “Fuck,” he mutters, then clears his throat.

You close your eyes as you finish inhaling, and when you open them, he’s watching you, brow furrowed. It's silent for a few seconds and you hear the tiki bar closing up.

You bring the arch of your foot back to his ankle and he lets you rub it. You're still facing each other. You come a little higher on his calf. “If I didn’t know any better I'd think you almost kissed me,” you say.

“No,” he chuckles. “You know better.”

“You wanted to,” you note.

“‘Course I–” he stops himself and swallows. He lowers his voice. “--that’s not what I wanna do to ya.”

“Yeah?” Your foot works up to his knee.

He shakes his head. “I wanna stuff your mouth full’a cock like it should be.”

“Mm,” you encourage.

“Shut you up for a few minutes while I fuck your face.”

Your eyes drift to his pecs.

“That’s not what ya want though, is it?” he asks.

“It’s a good start,” you whisper, sliding your foot up to mid thigh.

“You’re dyin’ to have your cunt stuffed.”

You bite your lip and play coy. You take another drag of the joint but he declines. He palms himself under the water and your chest flutters. Your nipples get hard, and you feel yourself gushing.

“I know how wet you are right now,” he says.

“Feel for yourself,” you whisper.

He reaches for your crotch but you pull back at the last second, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. He shakes his head, plucks the joint out of your fingers and takes a short drag. He puts it down, and as he inhales the smoke in his mouth, he gets so close you can reach down and feel the thick silhouette in his shorts. When you squeeze his cock, it makes you twitch. You need him so bad. He pulls your hair, tilting your head so you’re looking up. His face hovers over yours for a moment with smoke slowly billowing out of his mouth. Then he blows it away to the side and lets go of your hair.

“Oughta bend you over and fuck the brat outta you.”

“Yeah,” you whisper and give his cock another squeeze against his thigh. “Maybe later?” You take your hand away and say, “I’m gonna order something to eat.”

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he mutters.

“I have an extra room key,” you offer as you push yourself out of the pool. It’s an empty offer, mostly. The rooms connect. Too risky.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Fuck no.” He’s slowly palming himself under the water, and you’re glad you brought a vibrator, because as soon as you get back to your room, you have some things to think about. Like the exact size and shape of his cock under your palm.

“s’just talk, sweetheart.” He looks at your tits as you adjust your suit. “You know I’m not really gonna fuck you, right?” he asks, still slowly rubbing himself.

“Keep telling yourself that,” you smile, hoping it’s not true.

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging 🖤 Love you guys. I still have another stepdad one shot planned back in present day, too.

These are normally night walks moves, so maybe check out the original night walks if you like this. In my header.

#joel miller x reader #stepdad!joel #stepdad!joel miller #female reader #tw stepcest #joel miller smut #toxicanonymity ☠️#tw degradation if you squint

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paintingwhiteceilings · 2 months

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❃S/O being drunk/tipsy around Seventeen❃

A/N: So I may have gotten massively drunk last weekend as the region I live in celebrates a specific type of carnival that goes on for five days straight. I might have, maybe, drank a little bit too much during the music festival day and as I was drunkenly stumbling around, I wondered what it would be like to get drunk around svt.

Also, am I the only one who has a K-pop idols I want to get drunk with bias line? Currently, my list consists of Lee Know, Xiumin, Jin and San (to name a few). Just wondering whether that is a normal thing to have or whether I should be concerned about my sanity.

Scoups/Seungcheol

❀ Chances are that if you are drunk around him, so is he. Coups loves a good party on the occasion and isn't a stranger to clubbing. However, where he can hold his liquor and knows his limits, you may have forgotten about yours. Part of him adores your clinginess and finds you adorable; thus, he lets you be your embarrassingly drunk self, laughing at your shameless and less-than-stellar dance moves. As long as you are in the safe, not-too-drunk zone, he will let you have fun and try to match your drinking pace.

❀ However, the moment he notices that you are crossing the line into way too drunk territory, the responsible part of him will kick in, and he will chase you around with water. He will get very serious, going all alpha leader on you and doing whatever it takes for you to take a sip of water.

❀ No amount of cuteness or begging will convince him to stop his getting you sober plight; you can flirt all you want with him, but once he is concerned for your well-being, it is difficult to persuade him to let you keep on drinking. He is definitely not above cutting the night short either, taking you home instead. If you do as much as refuse, he will throw you over his shoulder and walk out like you weigh nothing.

Jeonghan

❀ To the poor soul who decided to get drunk around this man, I hope that he will never feel the urge to show those embarrassing videos that he took of you to those around you. Although he will, of course, keep his eye on you to prevent you from getting progressively drunker, he is enjoying you being drunk way too much. He will have his camera out the entire time and instigate you to do something embarrassing that sober-you would very much regret.

❀ He has an entire folder dedicated to your drunken mishaps, whether it is a five-minute video of you slurring your words as you argue why cows are grossly underappreciated when it comes to favourite animals or you crying as you hug a tree, sobbing that they do not receive enough love. Jeonghan cherishes every single photo and video he took of you being drunk, frequently rewatching them to cheer himself up.

❀ Honestly, it never fails to make you regret drinking around this man because he has no problem using it as blackmail against you. Whenever you try to argue with him during game nights, he will subtly reference one of your entertaining escapades, teasing you that anyone who repeatedly drunkenly asked whether turning a phone on aeroplane mode would give it the ability to fly is in no position to argue with him.

Joshua

❀ He is so unbelievably gentle with you. The moment he senses that you are getting ab bit too tipsy or borderline drunk, he will make sure to switch to water for himself instead. Although he enjoys the occasional drink, he wants to make sure that he is able to take care of you, letting you freely drink whilst he makes sure you do so safely.

❀ He is genuinely the sweetest, listening to all your drunken ramblings with a fond smile on his face. Whenever you are not paying attention to him, he will secretly switch out your alcoholic beverage for water, cheekily gaslighting you into believing that it is still the same drink by taking a sip himself and pretending that you are imagining things when exclaim it no longer tastes like vodka.

❀ When you guys get home, he will go into full caregiver mode, helping you remove your makeup, making sure that you didn’t forget to plug in your phone for the night and laying out your comfiest pyjamas for you to slip into after a brief shower. He will tuck you into bed after making sure that you drank enough water for the night, preparing a glass of water and some medication for you to take in the morning when the hangover kicks in, before turning in himself.

Jun

❀ The moment you enter your shared apartment drunk, Jun feels torn between laughing at your ridiculous actions spurred by your drunkenness and helping you sober up. Seeing you put your hand in the fish tank as you try to pet your now traumatised goldfish because you felt bad for never petting it before is hilarious to him. He is curious about what else you might do, following you around as you try to do more ridiculous things. He is thoroughly invested in seeing where your drunken brain is taking you next and what else you will get up to if he lets you roam around.

❀ Jun will entertain your drunken childlike curiosity, using it to finally be able to do the totally safe experiments you usually tell him off for. The two of you will engage in a plethora of dubious food experiments, mixing different drinks to find out whether they will taste any good together and go to the supermarket to buy a dozen different ice cream flavours in order to rank them all. Where usually you would scold him for trying to see whether a bath can really overflow, drunken-you would join him in watching the water level rise slowly.

❀ However, he simultaneously will be very caring, preparing a hearty meal to combat your drunkenness. He might not be the best chef in Seventeen, but he can cook up a couple of meals that help with absorbing the alcohol, preparing one of them to help you sober up a bit. He will ensure that you eat plenty of it and drink enough water before you go to bed.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ In no universe is this man not drunker than you are when the two of you go out drinking. Hoshi’s tolerance is so incredibly low that he could get drunk on the smell of alcohol alone. The other members have to babysit the both of you, not even for your own safety but for those around you. He would be the type of person who, when you buy your shots, forgets that they are not his and, in his drunken stupor, take them when you turn around to pay. You are too drunk to notice either, not that it matters much, as you finish most of his drinks on accident, too.

❀ The dance floor is a danger zone when you two step onto it. Neither of you cares much about dancing decently; instead, the two of you have a competition going on who can come up with the most creative, shameless dance moves. The dance battle only ends when one of you accidentally knocks over a slow-dancing couple during an emotional ballad.

❀ The other members will ultimately have to step in, guiding you back home before either of you does something illegal. It is easier said than done; the two of you are so incredibly drunk that you decide to pose and take pictures with random statues you spot on your way home. Once home, they try to get you both to drink water but miserably fail as Hoshi completely breaks down, professing his undying love for you between sobs. The night ends with the two of you in each other’s arms, crying about how much you love each other.

Wonwoo

❀ Considering he doesn’t really drink himself, he will make sure you are not exceeding your drinking limits, babysitting you the entire time. However, where he usually makes sure to stop you from getting drunk the moment he notices you are getting tipsy, he hadn’t anticipated that the dinner with the members would turn into an out-of-control drinking party. When they suggested doing some drinking games whilst waiting for the food, he had assumed they would have gone easy on you; instead, you had lost so many of the drinking games that you were borderline drunk by the time that the food reached to your table.

❀ Throughout the dinner, Wonwoo tries to get you to drink as much water as he can. Your glass doesn’t stay empty for long as, rather than eating himself, he is way too focused on making sure that it is constantly filled with water. You have barely swallowed your food when he puts another piece of meat on your plate, hoping that the grease will help you sober up somewhat.

❀ When the members insist on playing more drinking games during and after the dinner, he initially refuses on your behalf. If you insist on continuing, he will awe the members by taking every punishment shot going your way for you. Unfortunately for him, the members have finally figured out a way to get Wonwoo to join their drinking festivities, using you as bait to get the usually introverted member to drink.

Woozi/Jihoon

❀ As another member who rarely, if ever, drinks, he always tells you to be careful when you do. When you get invited out for drinks with the members, he fully trusts them to keep an eye on you for his sake as he is stuck in the studio, having to finish a song. What he is not expecting, however, is for them to call him at 1 AM to come pick you up, as they may have grossly overestimated your alcohol tolerance. He can hear drunk-you brabble about how much you miss him in the background of the phone call as he talks to the members about coming over to take you home.

❀ With a big sigh, he makes his way over to the pub you guys had been drinking at, realizing that it might not have been the smartest to have the members who frequently drink and have built up quite the tolerance take you drinking. He is not necessarily angry at you or the members; instead, he is disappointed in himself for not having been there with you to ensure you would not go past your drinking limits.

❀ He is incredibly gentle with you when he finally arrives at the pub, scooping you up in his arms, ready to take you home. He will hear no apology on your part or the members, reassuring you that it happens and that although he would like for it to be prevented in the future, he understands that getting drunk happens. At home, he will be so soft as he makes sure to give you whatever you need. He will make sure not to leave your side, helping you shower and giving you plenty of cuddles in bed to make you feel better.

DK/Seokmin

❀ Another member who is probably just as drunk as you are, if not more. He would be getting drunk with you, sharing most of his drinks with you to the point where neither of you remembers which drink belongs to whom. He is definitely enabling your drunk behaviour and perhaps even the cause of it because whenever he picks up his shot of soju, he makes sure to give you one, too.

❀ He will rope you into doing something stupid, putting on one of his infamous skits with you as the second lead. You don’t know where he got a wig from, but he is fully engrossed in his role as Sandra, the woman who is about to be eaten by zombies. Where sober-you would be mortified by his behaviour, you are currently too drunk to care, down to join him as one of the vicious zombies. It doesn’t help that a small part of him still feels embarrassed about his actions and keeps taking a swig of the soju bottle left on your now-unoccupied table, making him progressively drunker as the performance continues.

❀ At the very least, your performance will be enjoyed by a considerably large, amused audience who decide to pay for some of your drinks in appreciation, making it a relatively cheap night out. Neither of you will be able to do much the next day as both of you completely forgot to drink water before going to bed, too busy re-enacting the best moments of your play, resulting in a massive hangover. As a result, the two of you spend most of the next day cuddled up in bed; DK claims that your hugs are the best cure for his crushing headache.

Mingyu

❀ Mingyu sometimes forgets that taller people tend to be able to drink more compared to those who are more vertically challenged; thus, he accidentally got you very drunk when he dragged you to go clubbing with him and the members. That being said, he is not feeling too guilty about it because where sober-you would try to limit the PDA in front of the other members, drunk-you completely forget they exist. Mingyu is on cloud nine when you start to touch him more than usual, thinking he has officially gone to heaven as you hug him close and refuse to let go.

❀ He is giggling uncontrollably, as you are all over him, insisting on slow-dancing to every song that comes on, even if it is to the most upbeat techno song. Although he makes sure that you don’t get too drunk, he will not make any attempts to sober you up immediately either, enjoying your attention way too much. He, for sure, will take at least fifty photos and videos where you are kissing his cheek and drunkenly rambling on and on about how much you love him, saving them for a rainy day. You are the cutest person alive to him, and he seriously considers always bringing you along from now on.

❀ Once home, he will make sure that you are fully provided for, cheekily suggesting to shower together as he is incredibly ‘worried’ that you might slip in the shower in your drunken state. Part of Mingyu is slightly sad to see you sober up when he hands you your tenth glass of water in an attempt to prevent a nasty hangover.

The8/Minghao

❀ There is no way in hell that Minghao is not watching you like a hawk when the two of you go drinking, taking away your drinks when he notices that you are getting a bit too out-of-control drunk. You always try to argue with him when he does, whining that you, the adult, know your limits and don’t need him to babysit you. Thus, to prove you wrong and to get you to stop arguing with him whenever he stops you from drinking, he makes a deal with you; you get to drink however much you want, and he won’t interfere with drunk you whatsoever.

❀ This is how you end up drunk out of your mind at one of the members’ birthday parties, challenging Seungkwan to an arm wrestling match after you had tried to beat a drunk and crying Hoshi in a dance battle without much success. You even competed in Scoups’ and Mingyu’s beer pong competition, making you drunker than you already were. Minghao hovers nearby, ready to jump in when necessary, keeping a close eye on your questionable actions. His phone is in his hands as he quietly films you from a distance, ready to present sober-you with the consequences of your drunken decisions.

❀ Nevertheless, he will interfere whenever you are about to do something too embarrassing; sure, he wants you to learn that you do stupid things when wasted, but he does not want you to be relentlessly teased by the other members for your intoxicated mishaps. Minghao will immediately take you back home and sober you up when he thinks that he has let you go on for long enough and that he has collected enough evidence to prove his claims. The next morning, he will lovingly confront you with reality, regardless of whether or not you are nursing a hangover, after which you agree that maybe, sometimes, he might have a point.

Seungkwan

❀ Seungkwan is honestly one of the best people to get drunk around. Sure, he drinks himself, but the moment he notices that he is getting tipsy, he slows down his drinking. He has had to deal with the members being drunk so often that he has developed successful ways of dealing with drunk people, making him well-equipped to deal with you. The moment you sheepishly admit that you are slightly drunk when you two are having dinner with the members, he will do his famous drunk check, rubbing over your forehead, making you giggle uncontrollably, before concluding that, indeed, you are gone.

❀ The entire evening, he will treat you like a little kid, listening to your drunken ramblings and providing you with sassy and funny remarks in exchange. He loves that you are laughing even more at his jokes than usual, and he will not miss a chance to elicit another fit of laughter out of you by doing something stupid. Seungkwan is not above embarrassing himself as long as it means that you are entertained.

❀ Honestly, I can’t imagine Seungkwan letting you do anything embarrassing. He will make sure that you sober up a little, providing you with water every now and then, and talk you out of whatever stupid plan you were about to execute. The moment he spots you climbing onto the bar, ready to execute your and Hoshi’s well-choreographed but slightly ridiculous dance routine, he will expertly redirect your attention to something else, making you completely forget about what you were about to do. As funny as he knows it would be for you to embarrass yourself, he knows you would be mortified the next day when you find out what you did the previous night and is fully committed to preventing that from happening. He would never let you do anything you would regret sober.

❀ Still, if you refuse to listen to him or you manage to do something stupid when he is momentarily distracted, he would not let you live it down.

Vernon

❀ Similarly to Jun, he is highly amused by your drunken escapades, curious to see what you will do. Where Jun, however, will join you in your antics, Vernon will mostly observe you, laughing his chair-screeching laugh as he does. He is not going to interfere whatsoever and lets you do whatever comes to your drunken mind, highly amused by whatever you are doing. Unless you are doing something illegal or dangerous, he is letting you do whatever your drunken brain convinces you to do.

❀ Getting drunk around Vernon means providing him with an arsenal of slightly embarrassing pictures that will be stored for later use. His phone is in his hand the whole evening, and he will make sure to snap thousands of images of your intoxicated self as you pose for him. You completely forget about him taking the pictures until he starts using them as stickers and memes in your private chat. Most of his reactions to your messages are you pulling a weird face. It wouldn’t have been that bad if he hadn’t started using them in the Seventeen group chat and as his phone’s background.

❀ As Vernon doesn’t strike me as someone who drinks often, he wouldn’t really be much help in sobering you up and making sure you won’t have too bad of a headache in the morning. Instead of making sure you drink enough water and get enough sleep, he convinces you to stay up late to watch a movie with him, entertained by your drunken commentary throughout, most of which he records. Needless to say, when morning arrives, you wake up with a lot of regrets.

Dino/Chan

❀ Dino is the king of being drunk; the amount of stories this dude has where he is wasted and doing something questionable are too many to count. Of course, he will be drunk with you, and of course, you two will create the best, most amusing drunk story ever. He had tried so hard to take the punishment shots for you whenever you lost a drinking game, not wanting you to get too drunk, resulting in both of you being incredibly intoxicated and hyping the other up to do some questionable stuff. The members tried to supervise the both of you, but you managed to escape when they got distracted for merely a second.

❀ In retrospect, your memories are kind of hazy on what had actually happened that night. In flashes, you remember a couple of rich people inviting you guys along, a boat, a garden gnome and something about a museum. Somehow, at the end of the night, you two end up in a fancy hotel, holding a garden gnome under your arm, all expenses paid, with the staff congratulating you on your engagement as you sport a very cheap plastic ring on your ring finger.

❀ In the morning, the two of you are nursing massive hangovers, utterly confused about where you are and how you managed to get there. Dino sees the thirty-plus missed calls from the members, knowing he is in a world of trouble, and someone mysteriously saved under the name Bob the Magician. The ring is so tight around your finger that you barely manage to get it off. Still, neither of you is planning on leaving any time soon, enjoying the luxury hotel the next couple of days as you try to piece together what transpired that night after ensuring the members that you are not dead in a ditch somewhere.

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cyn-write · 4 months

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"Her Smoldering Eyes Still Scorch My Soul"

Summary: Rollo has been eyeing you since your arrival, seeing you as the diamond amongst coals. At the Ball, he corners you into a dance, but your BF is not going to let this slide...

Pairings: Rook, Epel, Silver, and Sebek x F!Reader (separate) For Azul, Idia, and Malleus' part

For Riddle, Deuce, Ruggie, and Jamil's

For Rollo's Warnings: Possessive behavior, suggestive, manipulation (Rollo), obsession (Rollo), established relationships, romantic, fluff ~

Note: This is the last part FINALLY!!! I have been working on this for a while and am excited to move on to new projects! Any suggestions, please let me know!!

Prologue

"Who might you be miss?"

Y/n gave a kind smile and nodded her head in greeting "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you," she stayed next to Trein as she was there as his assistant.

"Yuu is our magicless perfect of Ramshackle. She will be working as my assistant throughout the trip," Trein added.

She felt Rollo's eyes scan her, and, unlike his greetings to the rest, he held out a hand. Being poilet, she offered her hand as well, and he lifted it to his lips, grazing her knuckles quickly.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, y/n. I understand it must be difficult, being surrounded by mages every second of the day. I hope you get a chance to relax this trip." Y/n blushed at the motion and bit her lower lip. All the while she could feel her boyfriend glaring daggers into her and Rollo.

"I-I'll do my best..." Y/n replied. Throughout the entire trip, Rollo seemed to gravitate towards y/n and used every excuse to isolate her from the group. They chatted about her difficulties at NRC and of the festival. Due to her being Trein's assistant and the constant reminders to behave, she and her boyfriend had little time together.

This all accumulated at the Masquerade. Rollo had given Y/n a proper dress for the occasion instead of the attire his counsel had chosen. The (color) fabric decadently adorned your figure and stunned the NRC boys with its beauty. But before her boyfriend could ask for a dance, Rollo stole y/n away. He whisked her to the dance floor, and they started chatting.

At this point, Y/N's boyfriend has had enough of the student counsel president, but what sent him over the edge is when he takes you to the balcony and dare suggest the worst:

"Y/n, stay here with me." Y/n turned quickly on her heels to Rollo in confusion, "The fools at NRC do not deserve your purity. You belong here. with me." He has her pinned against the balcony, "This is your sanctuary."

Y/n pushed Rollo away slightly and spoke up, "Thank you for the offer, but I have not intention of leaving NRC. It is difficult at times but I wouldn't have it any other way. Now if you excuse me, I want to go back to the ball."

Rollo grabbed y/n's wrist and pulled her against him. "It's because of Draconia, isn't it? He has bewitched you!" He pinned her between the balcony wall and him. "Those fiends have enchanted you, but I will free you from those chains and show you salvation! No matter the cost!"

Rook Hunt

An Arrow landed right in between Rollo's middle and index finger splayed on the wall.

Rollo turned to see Rook with his bow still aimed at him.

"What is the-"

"Step away from Mon Ange."

Ever the observant Hunter, he could tell Rollo was attracted to his dearest as many were. He trusted y/n to take care of most of them. She was quietly capable, and he knew she preferred to fight some battles alone, but this crossed a line.

It only took a few strides to close the distance between them. Rook, being the gentleman he was, gently pulled y/n out from under Rollo's grip. He pulled her behind him and stood tall against the Student Council President.

"Hunt. What is the meaning of this? The perfect and I were having a conversation and you shoot at me?!" Rollo's tone begins to lose his composure. "You will pay for this!"

"Not if you want the entirety of Nobel Bell to learn their esteemed president is a pervert." Rook held up his phone and a video of the previous events started playing. Along with that he scrolled and displayed photos of Rollo looking at y/n's behind and chest, being aggressive towards her, and pinning her against the wall.

Rollo quieted and stared at Rook in rage, "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh I would, and the first person to see this would be the Dean of Nobel Bell and Professor Trien. Permanently ruining your reputation and the friendship between the schools." Rook took a step closer and held his thumb over the 'send' button. "And you wouldn't want that would you?"

Y/n looked at her loving hunter in shock. This was a side of Rook you were never privy to and it was terrifying. Rollo closed his agape mouth and stepped back. He bowed to the couple and retreated "Enjoy the ball, Mages." he spatted.

The moment Rollo left Rook turned to his Mon Ange and cupped her face with his soft gloved hands. "Mon Amour, are you alright?" he was so gentle with her.

Her emotions started to flood her senses as tears spilled from her eyes. She nodded and smiled, "Now that you're here I am," she brought her hands to his shoulder and he pulled her into a hug.

"Mon Amour, you're safe now. Non will dare hurt you as I stand by your side." He patted her head and kissed her cheek and forehead and anywhere he could get his lips before he finally placed them on her lips.

She smiled and let out a soft cry, "I know, I know."

"Ma Princesse, your chevalier dans une armure brillante will never leave your side again." He held her close as she cried.

Eventually, a new song began and he stepped back. Rook had an idea to make her feel better. He kneeled in front of her and clasped her hands in his, "Mon Ange, will you honor a humble chevalier with a dance?"

Y/n nodded and smiled at her brilliant hunter, "Of course, Mon chevalier!"

Epel Fulimer

"YOU GET YUR HANDS OFF HER!" Epel wasted no time, pulling Rollo off his apple-blossom. He stood in front of y/n and held out his magic pen to the predator. "YOU LAY A HAND ON HER AND ILL BUST YOUR BOTTOM THREE WAYS TA SUNDAY!"

Epel looked dashing in the moonlight. Despite the cuteness of his outfit, in the eyes of y/n he looked like a prince rescuing his love from an evil monster.

Rollo looked shocked at being thrown off the perfect by this little mage. He squinted his eyes then they widened when they realized it was one of the NRC freshmen.

"Fulimer. This doesn't concern you." He said pointedly, "Now go back to the ball and leave the perfect and I to our discussion."

"NO. YOU LISTEN TO ME." Epel said and squared up the older mage, "y/n told you NO. She clearly said she doesn't want to leave NRC. So unless you wanna go right here. right now. You leave MY Girl alone."

Rollo glared at the two and before he could say anything else he heard someone call his name from inside. He straightened up and looked past Epel at y/n, "Think about my offer y/n, we will discuss this matter later."

He turned and left the balcony. Leaving Epel and y/n alone in the cold night breeze. Epel watched Rollo leave then turned to hug his beloved close to his chest, "y/n, I am so sorry I didn't get here sooner. I couldn' find ya in the ballroom and people said Rollo took ya, and I thought the-"

She shut up his yapping by giving him a deep kiss on the lips. Epel pulled her closer, firmly gripping her waist and slipping a hand into her hair. The couple stayed like this for a long time before parting to breathe.

After regaining his breath, Epel said, "Wow... what was that for?"

Y/n smiled and placed her hands on either side of his face, her fingertips grazing his mask, "Isn't it traditional for the damsel to kiss her champion after a heroic rescue?"

Epel's smile turned mischievous, the way it always did when she complimented his masculinity. "Champion ya say? Well, Princess, do ya wanna go back to the ball or keep thanking me?"

Y/n giggled at the suggestive comment and said, "What do you have in mind?"

Epel leaned in close and whispered in a low voice teaming with desire, "I say we slip back to my room and-"

"Monsieur Cherry Apple! Madame trickster! There you are! I was looking all over for you!" Rook came out and Epel jumped back and grumbled at his senior's interruption. "The music is splendid! why don't you join me for a dance?"

He held open the door back into the ballroom open and gestured for them to come inside.

"We will be there in just a sec," Epel said and gave Rook a look of 'Please give me two more seconds'.

"Very Well, I will be waiting ~" Rook said and closed the door for a second.

"Well... looks like Rook decided for ya, but" He bowed to y/n and held out his hand, "Will you be this humble Champion's Princess tonight?

Silver

"I suggest you let the lady go." Silver’s hand gripped Rollo’s shoulder, forcing the president to turn from y/n.

The expression on his face was stone, eyes filled with a fiery rage all aimed at the man who dared to lay a hand on his princess. Rollo was taken aback by the gaze, it it made y/n’s heart swell. The momentary shock of Silver’s iron grip allowed for y/n to slip away from her captor and into Silver’s arms. The partner change changed Silver’s tactic from offense to defense. He let go of Rollo’s shoulder, took y/n’s waist, held her close to his chest. He held out his magic pen like a sword and y/n felt as if she was on the cover of a Romance Book. From where she stood, Silver looked like a fairytale prince. He may be a man of few words, but his eyes could write a novel.

“As a retainer of Prince Malleus and a Knight of Briar Valley, I cannot overlook a man of your caliber harassing a lady.” He said, his voice steady yet commanding, “Especially MY Lady.”

Y/n felt the heat rise in her cheeks, that was the first time he ever referred to her as “his.” Due to his position, their relationship had to be kept secret from everyone but Malleus and Lilia. They never used labels even in private. There were times she felt as though they were just friends, but you understood his situation. Now he called her his and acted as her knight, her Prince Charming.

Rollo was shocked to say the least. He took a step back and said, “The perfect and I were just discussing some private matters. But we can continue our conversation later,” Rollo started to walk away but Silver held his pan to the small of his back.

Silver’s expression shifted from stone to threatening, he lowered his voice an octave and whispered into Rollo’s ear, “You will not speak to her again. If you do, I swear to the sevens you will have wished those fires consumed you.”

Rollo glanced back a Silver with a twinge of fear in his eyes before retreating back to the ballroom.

The moment Rollo left the balcony, Silver turned back to look at his dearest. For someone notorious for his stone expression, Silver was very expressive on the balcony. He looked at the perfect with concern. His eyebrows knit, lips slightly frowning, and eyes looking in her eyes with deep concern.

Without any words, the two lovers embraced under the stars. Silver pressed his lips to her temple and whispered, “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

Y/n looked up at her knight and smiled, “It’s okay…” she brushed her lips against his cheek and whispered with tears in her eyes, “y-you called me ‘your lady’… you’ve never called me your’s.”

Silver brushed back a stray hand of hair as he said, “I know I asked to… to keep us quiet, but after that, I think it best that I be selfish…” he kneeled before his beloved in the (f/c) dress, one hand clasping hers while the other laid over his heart. “Y/n, will you honor the selfish request of a knight and be my princess?”

Sebek Zigolt

"Let. Her. Go."

Rollo turned to face him and was surprised to see Sebek. The usually loud retainer spoke in an even tone, barely above a sage whisper. His magic pen was drawn and pointing at directly at Rollo’s head.

He did not yell, but his rage was oozing out of every creases of his being. The fear in y/n’s eyes when Rollo pinned her to the railing made a switch click inside the freshman. He had been looking for y/n for a while. Malleus suggested the two dance n’s relax, and Sebek was never one to deny his Prince’s request. But when he saw Rollo pulled the human on to the balcony, he knew something was up. He got to the balcony just in time to hear Rollo suggest the worse: the Human switching schools… HIS human. And worse off, when she said no, Rollo forced himself on her. He could not take this anymore.

Rollo stood between the human and him. The council resident looked the freshman up and down before simply stating, “Zigolt, what are you doing? The perfect and I are trying to have a private conversation.”

“You touch her again and I will not hesitate.” Sebek Said, he stepped forward and Rollo remained unmoving.

“And I suggest you leave us be.” Rollo dare place his arm around y/n’s waist, “If the professor’s heard a NRC student threaten the Host of this event, the relations between our schools would be ruined, so I suggest you leave us be. She and I still have much to discuss-“

“You let go of her or I will-“

“Will what? Ruin the name of you dear prince and university over a human woman? I thought human’s meant nothing to fea like you-“

“The discussion is over. Flamme.” Malleus appeared behind Sebek with Silver by his side.

Sebek looked back to his Prince and his brother in arms and they could see the rage and disparation on his face. Malleus smiled at Sebek and said, “Sebek, take the child of man to the dace floor, it is simply criminal that a young couple not dance at a ball.”

Sebek understood the hidden meaning behind the words, ‘take y/n out of here.’

He strode over to y/n as she shimmed out of Rollo’s grip. In a rush, y/n and Sebek embraced upon meeting and he took her hand in his before leading his human away from the scene. Silver nodded to Sebek as they passed, releasing him of his duties for the night. Once away, the couple stopped in an alcove and Sebek embraced his human tightly.

“Y/n forgive me,” He said with his emotions finally spilling over, “I have been an inattentive lover and did nothing when Rollo had you… I’m so useless-“

“Don’t say that.” Y/n placed her hands on either side of Sebek's face. She looked him in the eyes and saw the disappointment. He was so upset with himself for what happened. Despite his rough facade, he put a lot of responsibility on himself, and if he did not live up to those impossible standards, he punished himself. "You saved me Sebek, so can we leave that behind us and go to the ball?"

Sebek allowed a small smile to grace his lips. He leaned his forehead against her's, "Oh course... I want nothing more than to be with you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing an NSFW part 2 or want to see more characters in this scenario, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

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bby-deerling · 4 months

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grand theft autumn (law x reader)

🎶 eustass doesn't know that law and reader do it on the tang and eustass doesn't know 🎶

18+, nsfw, mdni, wc: 1.5k masterlist

cw: afab!reader (no pronouns specified), cheating, choking, manhandling, he pins you to the bed, rough sex, a little manipulation, evil sex with law

tagging: @freelemmingsdownload @eelnoise @themushroomofdeath @mandiemegatron

Kid’s first mistake was leaving you behind at the docks, informing you that he would rather attend the festival accompanied by Killer for some “bro time”; his second was being too conceited and self-assured to notice the way Trafalgar Law was eyeing you up like a piece of prey to toy with before devouring it whole.

He was sneaky and wily as he seduced you, chipping away at you with cocky smirks, little touches, and snide remarks about just how inattentive your partner is. Though you knew what he was doing, his actions were meticulously planned to carry an air of plausible deniability, and designed in a way to make you come to him; as he excused himself to return to the Polar Tang, the look he shot you implored you to follow, sticking to his shadow like a lost duckling. Swallowing hard as you entered the submarine, you thanked every heavenly body above that none of your crewmates had been around to witness the way you shamelessly gave in to his flirtations, betraying your captain; in truth, your needs had been neglected by your partner for so long that it was easy work, especially when your suitor carried an air of danger and edge that thrilled you and sent nervous shivers running through your spine. Sneaking through the hallways of the submarine with him made guilt sting at you, causing you to hesitate for a brief moment as you crossed the threshold into Law’s dark, murky bedroom; however, any pain was swiftly quenched by unfathomable desire upon seeing the intense, wanting look in his eyes.

And now, you were far past the point of no return, your shirt off and pinned beneath Law, one hand grasped tight around your wrist while the other dragged a thumb across your bottom lip; a storm brews in your mind—this is wrong, treacherous, dangerous, and filthy—but not a thing in the world could convince you to part from his touch. Illuminated only by the dim nightlight in the corner of the room, the rods in your eyes do the hard work of deciphering the lust-filled glare he gives you as his lips dive down towards the column of your neck.

He's serious—deathly serious—as he slowly and carefully pries you apart, almost as if you were a body on his operating table. The languid, seductive kisses he gives you are all teeth and tongue; he’s a biter, and it’s almost as if he wants to get caught as he toes the line between lightly nipping you and leaving marks along your neck. His foresight is a far cry from your usual encounters with Kid, which were often quick, haphazard, and unplanned. Never one to shy away from manhandling you, Kid often tossed you around to suit his whims, usually accompanied with teasing remarks; Law’s touch was similarly dominant, but it was darker, more intense, and lit a fire deep in your soul as he wordlessly commanded you to comply with his desires—it was so different from what you were used to, and it ignited a sense of deep craving and yearning in your core.

His head dips lower to pay attention to your chest, tongue running across bare flesh, hands never leaving your wrist and throat. A slight twitch in your movements spurs him to press you further into the mattress with more force, making a soft mewl escape your throat. Back arching, you can’t help but writhe against the thigh pressed between your legs as his tongue rolls along your nipple; he’s barely done anything but kiss you, yet you’re so completely unraveled for him, succumbing so effortlessly to his brazen manipulations without a bit of resistance.

Hovering over you, he latches his mouth onto yours again, swirling his tongue against yours, taking breaks to suck on your bottom lip so hard you can feel the indentations of his teeth in the soft, tender flesh of your mouth. Each muffled moan and sinful sound that escapes your throat prompts him to tighten his grip around your throat, leaving you dizzy and disoriented as your mind buzzes with pleasure. Before the constriction can become too much, he flips you over, hand on your back keeping you in place as he hastily removes your remaining articles of clothing. Tattooed hands pulling your hips upward causes you let out a small squeak in surprise, making him exhale hard in amusement.

“So soaked for me… cute.” he teases, running a finger through your folds. There is no warning as he sinks his inked digit into you and slowly pumps it in and out; though your face is buried in his pillow, eyes screwed shut and unable to see anything but the insides of your eyelids, the mental image of Law’s tattoos disappearing inside you and being soaked by your juices is enough to make you unconsciously flutter around him. Silently, you thank him for denying you the privilege of seeing it with your own eyes, because the ungodly sight may have prevented you from ever leaving the submarine and returning back to your own crew.

“I’m sending you back to him ruined—you’re never going to be able to be with him again without thinking about how much better I can fuck you.” he warns, teasing your clit by circling it with the head of his dick. The warmth of his cock compared to his cold, icy fingers makes you gasp, causing a dark chuckle to escape his lips. As his head drags across your entrance, he means to tease you with it, but desperate to feel him bury himself in your walls, you press your hips back into him, silently begging him to enter you.

“Someone’s eager…better enjoy this while it lasts.” he taunts, voice husky and low as he pushes into you. Brutal in his methods, he gives you no time to adjust, gripping your hips tightly as he fucks into you, leaving your head spinning from pure shock. The tip of his cock brushes your cervix with each thrust, leaving you whimpering and mewling into the pillow, but a hand pressing down on the middle of your back keeps you from writhing.

He's quiet—almost too quiet as his nails dig into the soft flesh of your hips; analytical in his approach to dismantle you from the inside you, he’s soaking in and responding to each twitch and sound you make and adjusting accordingly. Fighting his urge to keep relentlessly giving it to you hard, he slows his strokes down and places one of his hands onto the back of your neck. Smirking at the whine you let out, he lays on top of you, chest pressed against your back, and runs kisses along your collarbone; they’re sweet, tender, and soft, a harsh juxtaposition to the harsh thrusts of his cock as he unspools every ounce of sanity and morality you had once possessed.

Now you’re the one who is eerily silent; a lesser man would be fooled into thinking the coil in your core had unraveled, but the heat he feels radiating off your cheeks lets him know you’re unbearably close as his cock slides deep inside you, brushing along your sweet spot with each thrust. Inked fingers slip underneath your face and stuff themselves inside your mouth; drooling messily around them as you suck on his digits, your mind begins to lose focus and drift into the void, a limbo between heaven and earth where nothing exists but pure bliss.

The sensation of teeth sinking into your shoulder sends you crashing over the edge. “He doesn’t make you come like this, does he?” he murmurs in your ear as you clench around him, gasping for air as you choke on his fingers. “Say it—” he whispers, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, leaving a string of drool connecting them to your lips. “—I want to hear you say it, or I’ll stop.” he warns, slowing down the speed of his strokes.

“No one can make me come like you can, Law…” you whimper, fingers curling and gripping the sheets hard so hard your knuckles turn white.

“That’s right. No one’s ever gonna make you come like this again.” he growls in your ear, biting the shell possessively. Reality sets in for you—Kid would never fuck you like Law; you’re going to spend the rest of your life chasing this high once he sends you back to the Victoria Punk in a matter of minutes.

You were going to have to face Kid again after being completely and entirely wrecked by Law’s cock.

But with the way he fucked you dumb, it didn’t matter—nothing matters anymore except the way Law’s cock feels as it caresses your insides, how his lips feel against your shoulders, and how his ragged breathing sounds ringing in your ears.

It’s fine, you convince yourself, becoming more delusional by the second as he maintains his brutal pace, hand wrapping around your throat. It doesn’t matter, it feels too good.

Nobody can make you feel the way Law does; the sentiment is painfully evident and emphasized as he relentlessly continues to bully your spongy spot and draw another climax from you. He was right, you were ruined, cursed to yearn for him from this point forward, a puppet on a string soon to be discarded.

The wire snaps. You don’t care about the consequences anymore.

And besides, it’s not as if Kid has to know.

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n #x reader #one piece smut #trafalgar law smut #one piece scenario #mdni #evil sex evil backshots with an evil man

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: What do you call a deaf pirate? Not 'Siren Food' apparently, which is really sort of hilarious when you've been kidnapped by a hungry Siren. Not for the Siren though—he's definitely not having a good time.

A/N: *rushes in at the 11th hour* Happy Mer-May!! I've been back and forth with clinical rotations and also working on some commission things and Leona's Part 4, but like, it's a fanfiction holiday. I couldn't miss out. And for one of my favorite tropes nonetheless. So here we are.

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a legend that floated throughout the Sage Island Seas of the Pirate With No Ears. Which was ridiculous—half because such a tall tale managing to survive so long and so wildly really showed just how pathetic the rest of the gossip around here was, and half because you still had ears. They just didn’t work very well was all.

Some said you’d been deafened by a prowling sea sorcerer who had tricked you into trading away your once keen sense for some mortal foible or other. Others whispered about how you’d been trapped in an ice cavern, surrounded by electric eels and sharks, and that the only way you’d been able to weasel your way out was by cutting off your own ears so that you’d have enough wiggle room to escape from your bindings. Which made absolutely zero sense at all.

In reality, all you’d done was stand far too close to a canon for far too long when you were far, far too little, and ever since all you could hear was the dull ringing of post-battle silence. Sometimes it was a bit sad. When the waves crashed against the shore, or when the gulls flew overhead—you were sure all those things sounded very lovely. You remembered music and laughter and sometimes they echoed in your head at a distance—a memory not quite forgotten but certainly fading at the edges. But other times, like now, where your fellow crewmates were bawling into their ales and wailing about lord knew what… well, it was always nice to find a silver lining in these sorts of things.

One of the tipsy lads tottering around the deck of The Rose Queen tripped and landed against the wood with something that looked like it’d be a very loud smack. Your brain helpfully filled the silence with some nonsense noises and park-play-style laughter instead. You watched Cater stumble by out of the corner of your eye. He patted your head and said something that twisted his mouth into a gaping ‘uuuuu-eeeee-oooo’ before he puttered away to leech off First Mate Clover instead. Ace threw a drunken arm around your shoulder and burbled something against your cheek that popped with the scent of stale booze, and you decided to pretend that you were as alone at sea as your muted senses would like to think.

The party raged on long into the evening and you stared down at the rabble contentedly from your perch in the crow’s nest. They were a good bunch—dullards though they may be. You’d heard (hardee har har) that they were planning to raid the Port o'Bliss, and something must have gone terribly right. You only really hung around to scrub barnacles off the paneling and keep an eye on the tides well enough that Deuce wouldn’t run the lot of you ashore, so you weren’t really sure how the whole ‘pirating’ business actually went about. But clearly they were doing a pretty good job of it.

You rested your chin on your crossed arms and sighed into the salty breeze. The night was warm and pleasant, and before you knew it, you were nodding off against the rough fabric of your sleeves. You weren’t quite sure how long you spent dozing there tangled in the ropes of mast, but it was long enough that by the time you snorted back awake the festive lights had dimmed to embers and most of the crew had sidled away below deck to either keep drinking themselves blind or collapse in a pool of their own colorful vomit.

There was a lone figure swerving towards the bow—precariously close to the railing for someone so clearly unsteady on their own legs, if you did say so yourself. You squinted suspiciously at his mused lavender hair, not entirely sure you recognized the head bobbing around below you. But perhaps The Rose Queen had picked up some fresh recruits at the Port, or maybe the crew had gotten a bit too booze happy with some dye. Purple Hair leaned up against the rails and tipped forward on his toes like he was thinking about diving in, or maybe barfing. Either or, you sighed and shimmied your way down to stop him from tumbling into a watery grave.

“Oi!” you called, the shout vibrating up and out of your throat, and the kid jumped half a foot in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from there. Riddle’ll have your head if we have to send out the rescue rafts this late at—”

The kid turned to face you with wide, wide, glowing eyes. Your own went round as dinner plates as you watched his too-dark pupils pulse like drumbeat. They were so bright, practically illuminating the whole of his delicate face, but there was no light to them. Matte and sleek like a shark’s eyes.

He shouted something at you so whip fast that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and then he was glancing nervously back and forth between the roiling waves at his back and the encroaching deckhand at his front—making all sorts of nonsense gestures that had you sighing behind gritted teeth.

“Look,” you said, interrupting whatever indiscernible gibberish he was spouting, “I don’t know who you think you are. But you’ve picked the wrong ship to try and—I don’t know—seize? Pirate? You can’t pirate a pirate ship! But either way, you—”

Then the kid opened his mouth like he was screaming, and you frowned again. There was strange prickle along your arms that had goosebumps crawling up your skin and the hair raising at the back of your neck, but you shook it off and moved forward with another weary sigh. You pulled a length of rope from the belt slung around your hips and held the limp bundle of salt-soaked mesh up like a threat.

“I will throw you overboard. And hogtie you first,” you promised cheerily. “So you actually sink.”

Purple Hair just looked like he was trying to scream louder, and you were sourly tempted to stick your fucking tongue out at him and make petulant ‘nyeh nyeh nice try’ noises at him, but then there was a heaviness behind you. A creak in the wood that you could feel if not hear. You rolled out of habit—tumbling across the deck just in time to avoid a nasty swipe along your back. And oh no. The thing crawling up over the railing was worse than any lavender would-be ship thief. The black tipped claws and flared fins were telling enough, but the sharp-toothed grin was somehow more so. It tilted its unnaturally lovely head at you and spoke politely—clearly and very, painfully, slowly.

“What’s—this—perhaps—” you were able to vaguely make out. Maybe. The dark and your panic were both a terrible hindrance to putting shapes to sound. His lips curled into something wicked before parting far more smoothly than the younger man’s had. Singing. It was singing, not screaming. Hauntingly green eyes glowed bright and you felt the tunk tunk tunk beneath your feet of the rest of the crew starting to move around beneath you. Around you.

Then there were more of them—crawling up over the railings, trilling into the night air. All far too lovely and far too sharp to be anything but predators. The moonlight illuminated their fangs and scales in a ghostly white glow. There were shivers running along your spine, but otherwise nothing but silence echoed through your head. Small mercies. You watched several of your fellow crewmates rush out of the cabins only to double over with their hands clasped over their ears. Others stuttered and tumbled forward towards the railings as if they were being dragged along like puppets on a string. You cursed and ducked between them—looping your rope around their legs as you went and tugging them to their knees like a line of falling dominoes.

You let your hapless comrades collapse to the deck and curled the last throws of rope around your fists. You were decent enough with a knife when it came to dueling an unmoving, completely unaware foe—like a barnacle or some rusted over door hinges. But real people? Sirens?Fucking literal blade-tipped-merfolk straight out of every sailor’s nightmare? No thank you. So the teeny blade stayed sheathed at your hip and you dove into the fray to find something rope-wrangle-able.

At the other end of the bow, you watched Purple Boy straighten from a crouch. There were new, silvery blue scales crawling up his neck and forearms. He was still tottering around on legs that he clearly wasn’t all too used to, and you watched as the little guppy started to make a furious beeline for Captain Rosehearts. Which—no. Absolutely not. You were never one of those pirates who was like ‘oh, Captain, my Captain~’ but Riddle was good. He was tough, and taciturn, and could throw a tantrum that could bring down an entire harbor. But he’d written out all of his ridiculous six hundred rules by hand so that you could have them. And the teeny furrow in his brow as he staunchly taught himself hand sign after hand sign so that he could yell at you in earnest was so endearing that you’d protect that little firecracker for as long as you breathed.

So you went after Lavender Head, and then of course Lavender Head turned and tried to shout at you all over again. When that continued to not work at all, the Siren began to backpedal in earnest. He turned his head and squawked at whoever was around to listen, but in the chaos of the attack there didn’t seem to be many of his pod free to lend him a hand.

You descended on the little snake, rope at the ready and perfectly happy to make sushi out of the fucker, when something big overshadowed the both of you. Another Siren crested over the side of the ship, larger and clearly more impressive than the rest of its kin. Which matched your stupidly terrible luck just fine. Ah, yes, Mister Big Bad. Please. Go for the deckhand rather than the literal trained mercenaries less than ten feet away. Brilliant. The Siren bared its fangs like some great, terrible, beast and tore into the paneling with its curved claws as it attempted to drag you down to your watery grave. You cursed, and kicked, and yelped in a panic when the thing managed to get one of those cold, pale hands around your ankle.

Despite the fact that all of it surely happened in less than a few seconds, your descent seemed to progress in steps. First, the Siren tugged you over the side. Second, you smartly flipped the loops of your rope up to try and lasso yourself a handhold. Thirdly, you outright missed the ship and instead tangled the spools of thin rope all around your Murderer To Be. Said Murderer’s eyes widened in shock as your unintentional trap wrapped the both of you up like a mess of bugs in a spider web. And finally, the pair of you crashed towards the churning ocean in a knotted-up heap and slowly sank beneath the waves.

You rubbed the grit and salt from your eyes and sat up with a groan. Where were you? Not too far out at sea, hopefully. Washing up ashore had been nothing short of a miracle, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant you got to avoid becoming chum for another day. The sand beneath your fingers was soft and white, and it slipped beneath your palm like water. You moved to push yourself to your feet and froze—a blur of amethyst swiping out and knocking you back onto your ass with a splash.

You spluttered and spat, and had just barely managed to flip yourself over like a turtle who’d been upended on its back when you caught sight of the absolute last creature in the world that you’d ever wanted to see again.

The big Siren had washed up nearby.

Because of course it had.

The creature narrowed his eyes at you and immediately set about lashing his rope-twisted tail against the sand like a rattlesnake. He bared his pointed teeth in a hiss and you were dowsed in a barrage of saltwater ammunition.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, spitting out wayward chunks of seaweed, and shells, and gods knew what else. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

The Siren curled his lips unpleasantly, putting that wonderful row of dagger-like pearly whites on display. He spat something completely indiscernible—the line of his mouth so harsh and flat that you couldn’t have even begun to pick up the shape of things if you tried—and you scooted as far back as you could without toppling yourself over again.

He dug his clawed hands into the sand and said something else, just as clipped and tight. You assumed it was an accusation. You were very used to recognizing the glare that accompanied those. When you didn’t respond, his brow tugged down low and he snapped something else—this time jabbing those pointed, black, nails in your direction. Ah, so definitely a complaint then.

You cocked your head at him out of habit and that griping turned into a snarl so ferocious that you could feel it racing up your skin like static. Which was definitely pretty trippy.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you told him honestly. Which just made the spiked fins flatten all along the side of his head and another wave of those zippy sneers dance up your arms. “Literally,” you tried. “I—”

The Siren opened his mouth and that sparky static from earlier amplified into something near painful. It was strong, and prickly, and left the imprints of invisible shackles all along your already aching joints. You could feel his voice carrying on the breeze—brushing against your cheeks and playing with hair. Thin, icy, fingers digging their way into your brain and yanking. But there was something missing from all that ethereal hypnotism. Something pleasant and sweet to complete the circle of temptation. A voice, you’d guess. There had to be a call after all, or else it hardly mattered how deep and all encompassing the need was to answer.

When you didn’t immediately, like, fall to your knees in subjugation or drown yourself in the inch and a half of tepid water pooling at your hips, the Siren’s eyes dimmed with something that almost looked like hesitance. His brow pinched tight and he parted his red lips wider. A seagull dropped from the sky. Three different crabs crawled out of the sand to bow down.

“I can’t hear you!” you tried again, loud enough to have your teeth aching. His mouth went wider, and an entire ass tuna beached itself to flop pathetically near your ankles. “It’s not a challenge!” you wailed. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

The static disappeared all at once, and the Siren’s lips slipped into a small, surprised sort of ‘o.’ He blinked his too-long lashes at you and stared you down like you were some sort of escaped alchemical experiment.

“There,” you huffed. “Finally.” And then went quiet and a bit concerned. Because apparent Song Immunity or otherwise, the thing was still hugely impressive and scary looking. His claws definitely wouldn’t have any problem picking the leftover bits of you out of his teeth, and you knew well enough that if he dragged you into the depths with that powerful tail of his, there would be no resurfacing.

The Siren too was using this time to glare at you like you were somehow a threat to be taken seriously. Which was half flattering, half pretty funny.

“Well…” you said after a long moment. “I should get going, I suppose.”

You made your way to your feet in the mucky sandbar and started heading off to see where you’d been stranded. You could feel the Siren’s heavy gaze on you the whole while, and decided he was probably trying to figure out if you’d taste better paired with seaweed or a nice jellyfish spread.

The pair of you had been stranded on a small, crescent, islet that couldn’t even rightly call itself an island. You were able to walk from its curling east to west coasts in just under fifteen minutes, and that was at a meandering pace where you stopped to peer into all kinds of little grottos and rocky formations. There was some vegetation at the heart of it—short palm trees and tufts of grassy knolls—and thankfully a few deep divots that had collected some still rainwater, but otherwise it was entirely boring and stupid. Not even any weird tortoises or anything meandering about to make friends with.

By the time you circled back around to your original stranding point, you had fully expected the Siren to have flipped you the metaphorical bird and fucked off back into the ocean, never to be seen again. Instead, he was still stretched out in the shallows of the bay, carefully fanning his long tail out in the seafoam and picking through the mess of it with his pointy claws.

He reminded you of a beta fish—with wide, flowing, fins that looked far more like silk than skin or scales. The tips were a deep, plum purple that gently faded from near black to violet and finally a vivid sort of lilac at their junction. The bulk of his tail looked like it could be made from literal gemstones with the way it shimmered in the morning light (gems that had perhaps been a bit dinged and/or literally torn out in chunks from where he may or may not have been smashed into the rocky shore curtesy of your terrible hogtie, but who’s to say).

There were jagged cuts lining the right half of his pale torso. They oozed a strange sort of silver ichor that was probably some kind of mystical merman blood, but you absolutely refused to get close enough to try and find out. The fins framing his pelvis were tangled and thin looking, and the sweeping ones that trailed all the way down to the tip of his tail were battered and torn. Clearly pulled to bits by your handy, dandy lasso skills. Which… was still tied up at the base of them. Huh. You’d assumed he’d be able to slice through all that knotwork without issue. But maybe…

You approached the Siren cautiously. You caught the exact moment he must have realized you’d returned because the fins along the sides of his head flattened like the ears on a pissy cat and he turned on you with a very dramatic snarl that probably sounded all sorts of menacing.

“Hello,” you greeted, and the merman spat something that you assumed was probably a very polite ‘fuck right off.’

You nodded because, well, fair enough. And then pointed to his injured fins and the waterlogged ropes still twisted up around the heart of them.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

He shouted something no doubt very indignant and then was back to hissing at you. Which definitely didn’t sound like an agreement not to immediately murder you on the spot.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Your loss, I suppose.”

Well, your loss, really. Keeping a wounded Siren around was just asking for trouble. Their pods were viciously protective for one thing, and that wasn’t even taking into account the poachers and rivals who’d be more than keen to come sniffing after the fresh trail of blood in the water. Maybe you could find a big stick or something and just, I don’t know, push him back into the ocean and be done with it.

The thought must have shown on your face, because suddenly he was smacking his tail against the sandbar and spitting something that you very much assumed was a demand along the lines of ‘you are going to take accountability for this.’

Which absolutely no way in Hell. He’d kidnapped you sort of, so that made you his problem, thank you very much.

You felt your stomach gurgle, and it must have been pretty loud going off the stink eye he sent your way. You turned your nose up at him and went about collecting the various critters that had been washed ashore in his tenor’s tantrum.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly as you worked on scaling the tuna with the knife from your belt—making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so.

The Siren sneered at you and went back to grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

The rest of the afternoon became a sort of pissing contest between the two of you to see who could earn the title of Bitchiest Beach Bitch. You thought you were definitely winning with the whole ‘eating something that could have been his long-lost cousin’ thing, but then he went and swamped the entirety of the small fire you built (and all of said ‘cousin’ being cooked over it) with one sweep of his tail, so now you were at the very least tied. You set up a nice little shaded hutch out of driftwood and ferns to escape the sun, he called down seagulls to shit all over it and pick it to pieces. He tried to roll around to reach some of the tighter fibers tangled in his pectoral fins, and you chucked rocks at him until he reared on you with a scream that had all the hairs on your arms standing on end. Y’know. Perfectly mature things like that.

That night you curled up beside a tall, jagged rock just at the outskirt of the bay—determined to get some shut eye but to also keep within range of your newest pest in case he decided to try and pull something sneaky. But every time you’d just about settled in to sleep, the shallow tide would lap against your toes in harsh shush shush shushes that had you furrowing you brow until you finally had enough and sat up to see what all the hubbub was about.

The Siren was tossing around in the shallows like a fish in a net—throwing his long body against the bindings and flailing like his life depended on it. And as much as he’d definitely deserved to get caught up in your unintentional hogtie, watching something as large and no doubt powerful as he was wriggling around like a worm on a hook was… Well. Something soured a bit in your gut as you watched him give one, final, great buck against his bindings before collapsing back into the shallows in a circle of seafoam. He panted against the surface of the water, the tips of his pale hair dripping down in a curtain around his haggard face, and you could see a fine tremor running along his shoulder blades.

You turned back to your rock and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes, fighting the absolute batshit insane urge to feel bad for a monster who had literally tried to drag you to your death less than twenty-four hours ago.

The water was calm and still for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you picked up a few of the crabs who had crawled up to shore and went about getting them clean and fit for eating. You glanced at the Siren, who was busy preening over his janky fins and fussing over his hair. It was entirely unfair that you probably looked like a half-drowned rat, and yet this creature that wasn’t even meant to exist on the surface was somehow managing to put himself together well enough to rival the courtesans you’d seen meandering around some of the wealthier coastal towns.

You stared at the crabs. There were three of them. It wasn’t really sharing if it was meant to be a bribe to keep him from eating you whole. Or at least, that’s what you reassured yourself as you cautiously tiptoed back to the water’s edge.

The Siren swiveled on you with a snap of something that looked sort of like a ‘What?!’ and you held up one of the gutted crabs in offering.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…” You waved the limp crab awkwardly.

The Siren rolled its purple eyes and said something fast and sharp that you couldn’t really parse. Something, something, not, something, something, are crust—Something, something, are you that stupid? (you recognized the impressions of those words well enough to mouth them even in your sleep).

“Look, do you want it or not?” you interrupted, and he bristled—all those delicate, violet, fins flaring up like a porcupine’s spikes.

The Siren crossed his arms stiffly and pointedly turned in the other direction with a mutter of something you had no hopes of catching.

“Whatever,” you snapped and went to bite into your meal. Only to immediately forget that these pointy little fuckers still had their shells on them. You reeled back with a yelp as you stabbed a million, tiny, carapace-shaped holes in your tongue.

The fucking Siren had the gall to turn back around so that you could see him laughing at you.

That night he was back to flipping around in the shallows like a miniature hurricane.

You counted out the waves sloshing against your heels, telling yourself you’d intervene in his self-destructive tsunami once it hit one hundred. And then it became two, then three. You shifted hesitantly to peek over the rock’s edge and watched him curl into himself like some terribly wounded creature before shaking himself out of the fog of pain that had clearly settling over his nerves, and then continued with his nonsense.

You hurled a big, pink seashell at his head and he whipped on you like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and raring for a fight. When he lunged forward with the waves—seething with hatred, and blame, and nearly crashing onto his already shredded front in the process, something angry in your snapped.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you demanded, stomping perhaps a bit closer than would be rational. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

The Siren roared something back and slapped his tail in the surf. Static zipped along your cheeks and you grit your teeth. He glared at you bitterly and then began to repeat one word over and over—slow and angry.

‘Eeeeehhh-Pppe-llllll’ said his lips. Strong and harsh with the shape of it.

And then he was back to spewing all kinds of rapid-fire vitriol that you wouldn’t have bothered to keep track of even if you could. Something in his expression shifted almost quicker than you could notice and he lifted his massive tail out of the water. He smacked the fins in your direction and pointedly jabbed a clawed finger at the creases of them—where delicate, silky, tendrils met strong, gem toned, muscle. Where the purple was light and clean. A pale, shiny, lavender. Almost just like—

“That kid?” you frowned. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

He sneered again and pointedly sent a splash of seawater into your face.

“You—” you grit your teeth. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. For all the good it would do. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

The Siren’s face twisted up like you’d force fed him soured milk, and he looped back around with a dramatic fwoosh of water to dive into the shallows. It was maybe two or three feet deep at best, and he was barely submerged. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous it looked to see a creature that was no doubt usually the peak of grace and athleticism reduced to flopping belly first into the waves with his proverbial legs tied up behind him. But you recognized a door slamming in your face when you saw it, no matter the species. Fine. Let him be a petty bastard. He could rot away in the sandbar for all you cared.

The next day you woke up with goosebumps crawling up and down your limbs.

There were all sorts of gulls crash-landed in the sand around you and more sad, little, sea creatures gasping on the beach than you dared to count. You shoved a particularly chubby octopus back into a tidepool as you passed and wondered just what sort of nonsense your co-strandee was getting up to now.

The Siren was circling the bay with his head held high above the low waves—lips parted and clearly caterwauling like a dying porpoise. The surface of the water trembled with whatever was making its way out of his mouth, and he looped and looped around the shores. It reminded you of the time you’d seen a whale calf separated from its pod. It had gotten trapped in a shallow inlet when the tides had changed, and your ship had been anchored just off the same coast. You’d watched it circle and circle, lifting its heavy snout to snort sharp jets of water into the air. Deuce had passed you a scribbled note when you’d asked him what it sounded like.

‘It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

There was a moment where the Siren paused in his paces and tilted his head. The fins there flared out to the side, like he was listening for something. But after a long moment the spines drooped back against his damp hair and he went back to his singing an aria to no one.

‘It’s looking for its family,‘ Riddle had signed to you when you’d asked him why the calf didn’t simply leave once the tides had turned in its favor. ‘This is where they last saw it, so this is where it will stay.’

“Maybe they forgot about him already,” you mused petulantly, turning back towards the center of the islet to try and scavenge up something to eat from all the poor creatures who had collapsed beneath your nemesis’s wailing.

The bitter thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it ought to be.

That night, the waters were still.

You squinted suspiciously at the merman curled in the shallows of the bay. He’d pulled himself half-out of the water, resting his more human looking bulk in the soft sand as gentle waves lapped at his tail. He slept on his front with his arms crossed beneath his pointed chin—his unbound fins sticking up behind him in a way that deliriously reminded you of bedhead. You watched him carefully for nearly an hour, searching for any tightness in his muscles or change in his breathing that might indicate he was faking it. But as the evening stretched on and he never lurched awake to try and gauge your eyes out, you assumed he might actually be properly resting.

He'd been swimming in circles all day—the aborted, stuttering, beats of his bound tail looking painful even by your non-tail-having standards. Eventually the tremors along the ocean had grown stuttered and strange, like perhaps his voice was giving out on him. And once that had happened, he’d curled up exactly where he was now. And hadn’t moved since.

You stared at the Siren hesitantly. He was certainly in enough of a state that you could probably pull off that whole ‘shoving him into the depths with a stick’ thing. He’d probably just let you do it—sink to the bottom in a mess of shredded fins and tangled twine and never rise again.

You gnawed at your lip, feeling something unpleasantly hot and sticky twist up your stomach.

The knife glinted between your fingers and you thought of crying whales and of the crew that you already missed so much that it felt like a gnawing chasm had opened in your chest.

You huffed out a miserable sigh and lamented for not the first time in your life that you really were just so fucking stupid sometimes. And then you were cautiously making your way down towards the waterline and the sleeping Siren sprawled out in the sand. Slowly—so very, very slowly—you tiptoed towards the mer and tried to get a quick glance at what amounted to the worst of the damage.

The rope had been thin and long, and the more he’d struggled, the more he’d dug the twine into his fins. You reached forward at half speed and slipped the blade into one of the too-tight creases beneath the bindings. You winced a bit in sympathy at the raw, pink skin beneath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to just rip the fibers away. He’d probably just ended up tugging them over and over against the oozing wounds beneath.

The first strand broke beneath your fingers with something that almost felt like a pop. Like seams ripping on a shirt. You glanced quickly at the sleeping Siren to confirm he was still lost to the world and not gearing up to bite your fingers off at the knuckle, and then continued making your way through the worst of it. It reminded you a bit of the time Ace had accidentally snared a sea turtle in one of his fishing nets and the lot of you had spent the better part of an hour slowly working the thing free of the seemingly endless tangles. You delicately worked the tightest edges away from the harsh indentations they’d left against his scales and peeled back the muckier bits with enough gentleness to avoid mangling anymore of his already battered fins.

The last of the rope finally came away with a satisfying, wet weight and you let it fall to the sand beside you with a pleased nod. Now you could let Mister Merman swim away in the morning with no unpleasantly gross sense of moral obligation weighing down your consciousness. Maybe he’d even be thankful enough to look at you with something other than a venomous glare for once. Certainly nothing like the one leveled at you right now. And—

Oh.

You didn’t even have time to properly gasp before you were being flipped and pinned into the wet sand. The Siren loomed over you, digging his black claws into your shoulder until you could feel the first pricks of blood breaking the surface. He snarled in your face, the curtain of his pale blonde hair shadowing his eyes in something so dark it was nearly black. The brilliant purple cast off his glowing irises were like little spots of stars in an otherwise empty night sky.

He leaned forward, teeth bared, and then some sort of tight expression flickered over his face. He paused, brow tugging together steep and angry. He hunched down once more, fangs at the ready, and then ducked back out. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear fog from his brain, and then he was snapping his canines at you all over again.

The Siren reared back with a booming snarl that sent ripples through the soft tide lapping at your ankles. He turned with one, final, icy glower and dove back into the shallows, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of amethyst scales. He flicked his tail sharply as he went, and one of the tattered fins snapped against your nose with enough of a crack to make you yelp.

You sat up in disbelief, rubbing at your aching skin and watching in outright consternation as the great predator of the oceans swam tight laps beneath the warm waters of your little lagoon—fins occasionally cresting over the surface to smack pointed fistfuls of water into your gaping face.

Deliriously, one of The Rose Queen’s hundreds of nonsensical rules bounced about your head. Happy to fill the otherwise entirely empty space behind your eyes.

‘Never save a Sea Serpent on a Sunday,’ Riddle had demanded, hands at his hips. ‘No Serpents, or Sea Horses, or Sirens to speak of.’

‘Man,’ you thought wildly, brain high on adrenaline and static as you watched one of the aforementioned Sirens swan about like he hadn’t probably just been a half second away from gnawing on your literal bones. ‘If I get out of this alive, Captain’s definitely gonna collar me this time.’

[TAG LIST]

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Mermay #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Siren!Vil #Mermaid!Vil #Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Vil Part 1

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kotias · 1 month

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Ineffable Rockstars

Time to properly become creatively feral about the Ineffable Rockstars project with @vavoom-sorted-art, @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist , @daneecastle, @moonyinpisces and Stitcherydoo!

Summary of the story: human!AU, Crowley and Aziraphale are rockstars in their respective groups, Celestial Harmonies and Hell's Rebuke. Word is out that those two groups have bad history together, and therefore the two of them, while shamelessly talking to each other any festival they get to meet at, do have to be careful about being seen together by their own bands.

Summary of this excerpt: Aziraphale explains the story of the two bands to Crowley, who has arrived after everything went down and was kept in the dark by his mates.

Lyrics: written for the purpose of this fic.

Word count of the excerpt: 872 words

Excerpt:

Crowley sat down next to Aziraphale, whose eyes laid probably a second too long on those long fingers, on this chest showing so proudly from behind his open shirt- He coughed and drank a large gulp from the flute, clutching at the glass like a lifeline.

“It’s- it’s alright. Are you feeling comfortable? How was the concert?”

“Hah, acting like I didn’t see you in the audience, are ya?” Crowley asked with a smirk, and Aziraphale looked away, feeling the heat building up on his face.

“Well, we do need to keep it silent, don’t we?” he answered nonetheless with a coy smile, sipping on his drink.

“Why, though? It’s completely beyond me; Bee recruited me right after the split between Celestial Harmonies and Hell’s Rebuke, but there’s always been… you know, a feeling that it didn’t happen for no reason.”

“They haven’t explained it to you?” Crowley shook his head, and Aziraphale sighed. “No wonder you’re lost. Well, to put it simply… Hell’s Rebuke’s members were part of Celestial Harmonies, a few years ago.”

“Yes, I know that-”

“Let me talk, please; I would like to make sure we work with the same information.”

As he began explaining the official history of the two bands, he was cut by a thunder of clapping as the concert was coming to an end, and he and his counterpart felt compelled to stand up and join the applause.

When you reached Summer,

You lost sight of the star lights,

Questions died in your throat,

Cursing a future that is naught

And the night falling upon you

Left you laying awake with open eyes.

After two encore songs and enough clapping to make their hands and wrists sore, Crowley and Aziraphale walked towards another scene and stayed in relative distance, ensuring that they would hear each other. “So, you were saying, Hell’s Rebuke and Celestial Harmonies.”

“Ah! Yes; so, this is fairly public knowledge.” Crowley nodded impatiently. “At least, it is not something that we are actively hiding, neither of the two groups; somebody who knows how to Google us would be able to find this information.” Aziraphale frowned, crossing his arms. “Honestly, that is why it concerns me a little that you have not been informed of this; it is a fairly common question that people are trying out on us, asking about the other group to see how we react. Anyways-”

The vendors just a few metres from them had started cooking a few crepes, and Crowley did not miss the eyes darting towards them. “Want some? C’me on, it’s my treat,” he insisted as Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised -and it was obvious that he wasn’t going to refuse such an offer.

“Well, if you insist,” he answered, the corners of his lips curling up and his eyelashes fluttering; Crowley’s heart missed a beat, his fingers pressed against his flute, and he barely managed to keep a groan from reaching out of his mouth.

“You do have to tell me more, though; ‘specially if you think my ignorance could bite me in the ass.”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale’s voice dropped as they reached the line, keeping it to the level of a private conversation. “Bee and Gabriel were… an item.”

“Oh, excellent start. If that’s only the beginning, I might have to stock up on popcorn with that crepe of yours.”

“Heh, well, it might be one of the more interesting aspects of this entire story, so do not keep your expectations too high.”

“No, no, don't kill my hopes, now. Go on, tell me everything, I’m sure it will be full of riveting details, Bee’s never been good at keeping things tidy anyways.”

Aziraphale groaned. “Oh, you should see Gabriel when he gets involved… Ah- one crepe with sugar, thank you,” he said with a bright smile to the vendor. “Alright, so- long story short, the band was originally founded by the two of them; excellent musicians those two are, and the band did have quite the promising future before it. We started having a fairly good reputation.”

“Black coffee and a serving of fries. The name’s been around for a while now, that’s right- I remember seeing it ten years ago on some festival announcements in my city. Cash, thanks.”

“We have, yes. We were very local for a long while, but…”

“What changed?”

“Gabriel and the others were wishing to go professional; Bee and who are now Hell’s Rebuke were not willing to do that.”

“Ah, I see. Well, they didn't change much in that aspect,” Crowley mumbled sourly, extending his arms to grab the crepe and coffee. He gave the dessert over, then took his serving of fries, and they left the vendor’s stand. “Wait, where did you stand? You stayed with Celestial Harmonies, after all.”

“Hm, well…”

That did not sound like somebody who was fully happy to have stayed, Crowley thought, and he crept closer to Aziraphale, nudging him with his elbow. “Come on, spill the beans! Honestly, I’m looking to go in that direction, if there’s anything I should be aware of…”

“Being professional was, and still is, something that I hold dear,” Aziraphale explained, his slow speech feeling heavy, like he was choosing every word carefully.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable rockstars #human AU #fanfiction

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aureatchi · 5 months

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⛇₊˚ʚ₊˚✧ SANTA TELL ME IF HE REALLY CARES ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, fyodor, nikolai, sigma

the pm is hosting a christmas party for yokohama! everyone is encouraged to bring a gift for the people they love…so what do the bsd men get you?

info. fem!reader. sm fluff. profanities from chuuya ofc LOL, them trying to outdo each other for you. pm hq has a rooftop floor here. implied reader is in the ada. wc. 3.1k

You walked inside the lavish lobby of the port mafia headquarters to be greeted by DAZAI, who immediately embraced you in his arms.

“Bella! You made it!” he exclaimed, pulling you in. You could feel the heat of his body warming you up, relieving you of the chilly weather outside.

“Of course, Osamu,” you giggled. “Wouldn’t want to miss something super special as this.”

Still trapping you in his hug, he led you down the hallway, one hand moving to playfully pat your head. Security guards parted to let the two of you through, entering the room where everyone was.

“So many people!” you exclaimed when you entered the headquarters’ formal dining hall decorated in Christmas festivities. Everyone was either chatting about or gathering by a table to get sweet desserts or hot chocolate.

“Want some hot chocolate to warm up, angel?” Dazai asked, looking towards the line.

“No thanks,” you replied. “You’ve warmed my heart up already.”

He gave you a smug smile in response, but you didn’t miss the light pink that also flushed his cheeks.

“Come over here.”

You followed Dazai as he made his way to a different table filled with wrapped presents and bags alike.

Dazai took one of them—the gift bag in your favorite color and handed it to you.

“For the gift exchange,” he smiled. “Merry Christmas, bella. I hope you like it.”

Your eyes lit up in joy, grateful and excited to see what he had gotten you. “Thank you!”

The first thing you pulled out of the bag was a custom heart pendant in your preferred metal—Dazai knew whether you liked silver or gold better. When you unclasped the locket, you saw matching pictures of you and Dazai inside, both bundled up in the snow. It was a good memory to look back at.

“This is so cute, Osamu.” You closed the locket and let the brunette place the jewelry around your neck.

“It looks even better on you.”

The second thing inside the bag was a box. Pulling it out, you saw that it was a Lego flower set.

“As much as you love flowers, they don’t last forever. However, these do!” You grinned widely at the thought and matching gift—Dazai always easily recalled your favorite things.

“We can build them together, too,” he continued, and you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I love them. You’re amazing at getting gifts.”

“I wouldn’t expect that at all.” Your attention was brought to the ginger-haired who had his arms crossed beside the both of you, a cheeky grin on his face. CHUUYA had a mug of eggnog in his hand, though you knew for sure he’d rather have a glass of red wine reserved for the evening party instead.

“Chuuya!”

“What’s up, doll?” he smiled, a different, sweeter tone entirely, as he strode towards you.

“What do you mean by that?” Dazai asked, referring to Chuuya’s earlier comment.

“Thought your taste in gifts would be shitty, just like you,” he chuckled as you greeted him with a hug.

“Hey, that’s a bit rude,” you whispered.

“Oh really?” Dazai responded with his own sarcastic laugh. “I’m not sure you could do any better.”

“You really underestimate me! Come with me, baby…we’re going to prove to the-thing-that-comes-with-the-discounted-bandages who really knows what to get a lady for Christmas!”

Dazai stood, jaw dropped, dramatically offended as Chuuya pulled you away.

You two walked to the other side of the room, where there were even more gifts under one of the many Christmas trees in the hall.

“Bastard,” Chuuya sulked under a scowl, picking up a box wrapped in crimson red, his statement color.

You chuckled in amusement. He riled up so easily, over something so trivial. “Don’t worry about him, Chuu. I already know I’m going to like what you got.”

“Ya better,” he replied, but cheered up from your words. “Are you able to hold it?”

He handed you the box, hovering his arms below for support in case you dropped it. Though it was a larger package, it was still a bit heavier than you expected.

“Yeah, I got it.” You then raised an eyebrow. What could be inside this gift?

You set it down on the nearest table, undoing the pretty bow of ribbon and wrapping paper that kept the mystery intact.

Inside, you were received with a record player.

“Oh, wow!”

You loved music, and you’d always wanted to start collecting vinyls as it looked cool, but everyone knew it was an expensive hobby.

Not only had Chuuya gotten that—a very nice one, too—he also got the records of your top ten favorite albums.

You looked through the covers, smiling with each new one you saw.

Chuuya explained a few things—how he was setting you up for good because he made sure you got a turntable player instead of a suitcase one, how you should replace the black slip mat with the white one he bought instead so your vinyls look prettier, how to not damage the records…you could hardly pay attention to him though because you were overjoyed at how thoughtful he was for that.

“You seem passionate. Do you collect them too?” you asked.

“No, I just wanted to research to find something good enough for you.”

You could feel your heart melt. He had really spent time picking this out after you’d only mentioned you finding record players vintage and cool twice, and you’d never even pointed out you’d want it as a gift.

“Thank you, Chuuya,” you said, leaning towards him, burying your face in his neck. “I love it…especially how you recall my favorite albums, too.”

“Of course doll,” he replied, running his hands through your hair. “Merry Christmas.”

You could’ve stayed like that, but your little moment with the port mafia executive was ruined when Chuuya glanced over at one of the snack tables to find all the food had just disappeared.

“Now what the fuck?”

You followed, looking at what he was looking at. Then, you realized the man standing by the table with a piece of cake—the last piece of cake.

RANPO caught your gaze and jumped, hyper from all the sugar he consumed. “There you are!” He ran towards you and shoved you on the ground, away from Chuuya.

“Hey man, what the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted in annoyance.

Ranpo acknowledged the ginger-haired only then, looking up from where he had you suffocating in his arms. “Huh? Oh, sorry, didn’t see ya there.”

Chuuya grew even more infuriated at the provoke.

“You tryna pick a fight?”

“You still want to after knowing how last time turned out?”

Ranpo was referring to their last encounter, where Chuuya had embarrassingly lost against him from a single blow. But you didn’t need to know that.

So, Chuuya used all his willpower to keep silent under an outraged glare as he watched Ranpo drag you away to make sure he didn’t bring up any details about it.

“I got you a gift too!” Ranpo exclaimed as you walked back towards where the other agency members were hanging out. “Wanna guess what it is?”

“Hm…some sort of treat, that’s for sure,” you replied.

“Partly correct!” he replied. “That’s not all that I got you though.”

“Oh? How generous!”

“No!” his response was stern. “A princess like you deserves more…as the world’s greatest detective, noone would know that better than me.”

You smiled. “You’re right, Ranpo.”

With that, he handed you one of the cutest gift baskets you’ve seen. The actual basket was snowman-themed, and inside was everything you wanted that could fit in it—that pajama set you had in your online shopping cart, the new skincare products you’ve wanted to try, your favorite candle—you hadn’t even ever mentioned it to him before. And, of course, a lot of chocolate. Of course, Ranpo would also be the best gift-buyer, using his knowledge to his advantage.

The one thing that really stood out to you, though, was a jar of Hershey kisses, with a note on it that said:

KISSES WHEN I’M NOT AROUND.

It even had a chibi-fied face of the cute brunette on it.

“This is my favorite thing in this gift,” you said.

“Of course, because I know you always miss me when I’m not there to kiss,” Ranpo confidently stated. “Which is why I came up with a solution! They’ll never be as sweet as me, but it works.”

You laughed in delight. It was a very creative idea. “This is amazing; thank you, Ranpo!”

Never knowing how to respond to thankfulness directly, he answered it with something else. “Hey, there’s something on your nose.”

“Really?” You moved a hand to feel what was on there, but Ranpo grabbed your wrist to prevent you. Instead, he bopped your nose with his lips.

“There was frosting,” he said, probably from when he excitedly greeted you earlier.

“You enjoyed those desserts, huh?” you asked, glancing at the depleted table once again.

“Yup! It was just lying there, and noone said anything about how much you could take, so…!” He paused, trying to remember something.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

…

You chatted with agency and port mafia members alike a while after. Everyone was having a good time, even when Chuuya started bickering with Dazai and challenged him to a duel.

“Shithead!

“Mackerel!”

“How about you talk once you grow another two inches?”

As everyone was being entertained by Chuuya breaking an entire wall by throwing Dazai through it, your eyes were distracted by an elaborate bouquet of roses and baby breaths that you hadn’t noticed before.

Curious because it wasn’t by any other gifts, you left the crowd to inspect it.

You were surprised when you picked the arrangement up and saw that it was addressed to your name on a note. However, there was no name to say who it was from.

You looked around to see if anyone was nearby that could’ve placed the flowers there. But everyone else was watching the fight.

You flipped the note over, seeing a sketch of an elevator and a four-number code on the back.

An elevator?

You scanned the hall once again. The only elevator there was the one at the corner, restricted to the port mafia. The guests weren’t allowed to use it, and a security pad was guarding it.

You hesitated but then decided to approach the door. If someone gave you the code they wanted and were permitting you to use it, right?

Once again, no one protested because they were all distracted watching Chuuya on the ceiling, making sure Dazai couldn’t touch him. You pressed the four numbers into the pinpad and were congratulated with a correct ding! sound and the elevator sliding open.

You stepped inside and realized there was only one button—to go up. You pressed it, and the doors closed, moving you up.

Luxurious as always, the elevator had a glass window, the entire city of Yokohama coming into view as you went higher. A few seconds in, you realized that the elevator wasn’t going to stop until you reached the top.

You still weren’t sure who had mysteriously invited you to meet them. You hoped it wasn’t the boss—the doctor in charge creeped you out, if you were being honest. But you figured it couldn’t be him because he was also downstairs, chilling with the agency’s president.

Your heartbeat raced as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, adrenaline surging in anticipation of the surprise, coupling with the chilly breeze outside. You had reached the rooftop.

“You’re so easy to tempt; those flowers drew you in faster than a blind mouse to a piece of cheese laid in a trap.”

You smiled as you heard the foreign accent of the person near the edge riddle you while admiring the entire city below. “Hi, Fedya.”

FYODOR turned around, violet eyes meeting yours.

“I should’ve known.” Of course, the enigma was him—conundra was the Russian’s signature.

“How in the world did you even get here?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. He always had his ways to infiltrate anywhere—through deception, through hacking, anything goes.

“I invited ourselves,” he smirked, and only then did you notice his two subordinates on the other side, one in fear as the other tried to trip him over the ledge. “Didn’t want to miss out on the gift-giving either.”

Fyodor took out a jewelry box. “I hardly get to see you. So I thought to get you something that you could wear everyday.

“And this one is special, to remind you of my presence even more.” He opened it, revealing a bracelet, and like Dazai, he also knew what color jewelry suited you best. It was nothing too showy—it was simple, but it was classy, timeless, just like him.

And you noticed what made it special. There was no clasp. It was made to be welded on the person’s wrist—a forever bracelet.

“Choose wisely,” Fyodor said as you looked in awe. “Which wrist, milaya?”

You quickly contemplated and held out one of your wrists towards him as he took out tweezers and a small laser. You watched as he delicately fastened the bracelet around your arm, making sure it sat on your wrist perfectly.

“Finished, fine with it?” he asked when he was done, and you lifted your hand toward the horizon.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” you responded candidly. Then, Fyodor lifted up his own sleeve under his coat, revealing a matching one. You were almost stunned, because you didn’t think he would be the type to wear anything other than a necklace.

“Merry Christmas, dorogaya,” he softly said, pressing you against his chest in a hug.

“WAIT, WAIT! Dove, there’s still me! Don’t seal away your heart just yet!”

“Huh?” You both turned towards NIKOLAI, who kindly but quickly moved Fyodor away from you.

The next thing you knew, there were foil snowman and reindeer balloons in your hand, white confetti popped over you, acting as snow, and the jester standing in front of you presenting a large gift.

“To be honest, I’m scared,” you admitted, knowing his chaotic, playful nature.

“Why?” he giggled. “Think I’m going to scare ya, baby? You can take my word, there’s no jumpscares in this one.”

“You better not be lying,” you said and removed the lid of the black box that reminded you of a magician’s top hat.

And he was being truthful because you were greeted with the exact opposite of remarkable. He had gifted you plain, white socks.

“Wow, Kolya. I never even knew you were capable of being mundane.”

He laughed once again as he just set the box in front of you, not saying anything more as you stared at him in confusion.

You took the socks out. Surely, there was a catch. He was acting too suspicious. And the entire gift was odd. You found nothing tampered with on the socks, though. And there was nothing else in the box. So why was it so big? And why did it look deeper than where the bottom stopped?

You nervously looked at Nikolai before sticking both hands in. You felt your way around the level until you realized the entire package floor felt like paper machete, something used in piñatas and things like that.

By instinct, you lifted a fist and punched through the box. You immediately punctured through the false bottom, uncovering your true gift.

He celebrated. “Smart girl!”

There was an assortment of plushies—many of them. You always asked Nikolai to help you get some whenever you found claw machines at amusement parks, so he knew you loved stuffed animals.

Then, there was a large, fluffy throw blanket, perfect for winter.

“I got that because I know you’re probably so cold when I’m not hugging you.” True. Nikolai encapsulated you like a blanket whenever he came over.

“The thought of having this didn’t even cross my mind,” you said. “Well, that goes for everything you do,” you chuckled.

“That was really creative; I love it, thank you!”

Nikolai popped more confetti, this time in pink hearts. “She loves it! Happy, happy Christmas!”

He swung you off the ground, spinning you with ease until your own head started spinning the opposite way.

“Gogol! I think she’s dizzy!”

The two-tone-haired casino owner had a concerned look on his face, and you couldn’t tell if it was because your eyes were unfocusing or because Nikolai was throwing you around so easily. Strong guy.

Nikolai stopped, realizing he had gotten too excited. “Sorry, dove! Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you responded, unable to keep your balance as you tripped over yourself. You landed on SIGMA’s torso, and he helped guide you to stand up properly again.

“Thanks, Sigma,” you replied. “How are you?”

“Good, now that I get to see you again.” He lightly blushed, breaking eye contact as you smiled. “I’m glad to see you too.”

“I got you something as well,” he replied, showing his own present. “I’m not sure what the people downstairs got you, and mine isn’t as fancy as Dostoevsky’s nor as extraordinary as Gogol’s, but I hope you like it.”

You felt warm, even in the icy weather. “Awh, just hearing that you got something for me is more than enough,” you replied. “I am so grateful no matter what.”

You took the present and opened it, first greeted by a new set of poker cards. However, this one was different because when you sifted through them, you realized it was the Decay of Angel’s custom set. You had been wowed by Nikolai’s Joker and Fyodor’s Jack when you first saw them, always using the set when you played a game with others.

But there was also a new addition to this stack. You were on it, taking your place as the queen.

“What? Sigma, this is so cool!”

There was one more thing inside. Your favorite lipstick in your favorite shade.

Sigma loved the color and even more how it looked on you. He loved how his cheeks would stain whenever you kissed him there—the pigmented contrast to his paler skin. You hardly needed restocking as you loved the lipstick yourself, but it was always good to have another extra.

“Merry Christmas,” Sigma said as you opened the container and swatched it on your face. You looked as beautiful as ever.

“Merry Christmas, Sigma,” you responded, kissing his forehead. Then, you pulled a cookie wrapped in a napkin from inside your coat and placed it in his mouth.

“Saved it for you,” you giggled. “There’s a lot downstairs. Maybe they’ll let you guys in if I say I invited you. Well, at least you.”

i heard if u rb, u will receive x2 gifts this xmas from ur favs! reblogs are appreciated; they are your christmas gift to me! <3

tags : @kissesmellow21

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bangaveragewhitewine · 5 months

Text

all is calm, all is bright

dad!Eddie Munson x mom!Reader

Your baby’s first Christmas, a silent moment in the festive glow.

Word count: 1.2k

Content/Warnings: Pure fluff. Short and sweet. Eddie and Reader are parents. Childbirth mention. Reader referred to as 'Mama'. No physical description of Reader - insert yourself, my loves!

Author’s note: Something small and seasonal as I try to get back into some sort of creative flow again. Much grá to you all, my lovelies ❤️

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Cherry Lane glowed in the dusky winter light that fell over Hawkins. The entire town dazzled with a warm holiday glow from Christmas lights and the bright excitement of the littlest townsfolk all riled up for a visit from the Big Man later that night.

Your little home was no different - in fact, it might have been the cosiest home in the whole county. Coloured lights twinkled around the window frames, a handmade wreath hung on the door, and plastic candy canes diligently lined the snow-dusted path to guide Santa’s sleigh. It was a picture-perfect holiday card, inside and out.

Maeve Munson was too young to comprehend the very concept of Christmas, or Santa Claus for that matter. Too shiny and new to recognise the stocking with her name on it hanging above the small fireplace, or the presents wrapped in glossy printed paper beneath the tree.

Just a few weeks old, she arrived as an early gift for you and Eddie. The best one you had ever received. In true Munson fashion, her entrance to the world had been a little dramatic, but Eddie had held your hand and let you squeeze as hard as you needed until Maeve made her debut with a head of dark hair and a loud set of lungs.

From your cosy nesting place on the sofa, you watch her big brown eyes gazing at the twinkling coloured lights and baubles on the tree. With her cheek resting against her father’s shoulder, Maeve blinks, slow and sleepy, as she listens to his voice.

“I know you’re really into the boob right now, kid, but you’re going to love Christmas dinner once you’re big enough.” Eddie’s voice is a low murmur as he rocks slowly from side to side, chest to chest with his daughter.

His hand looks huge on her back, patting a slow and gentle rhythm that just exists for the two of them.

You can’t take your eyes off of them, despite how tired you feel. It would be so easy to just close them, a quick few minutes rest, but you would miss them too much.

You wish that your camera was closer so you could snap and savour this moment as one you can hold in your hands.

It is peaceful bliss bathed in colourful light; you soak it in, savour it.

There have been no tears for an hour, though you feel like you are right on the precipice of breaking that streak with how much love and joy you feel, swelling like pride in your chest.

The house is warm, the old window frames are fixed with double-glazed glass that keeps the chilly winter air out. It’s rough around the edges, but there is food in the fridge and the cupboards are full. There’s a tree and lights, a few presents beneath it.

It’s not much but it’s enough. All you need is right in front of you.

Eddie catches you watching them, smiles as he nuzzles against chestnut brown hair that will curl and coil like his own in time.

He pauses his murmured monologue, his waxing lyrical about everything he will pile on his plate tomorrow. Everyone’s bringing something to family Christmas at Harrington’s - you managed to make two desserts while Eddie introduced Maeve to A Charlie Brown Christmas, one eye on you the whole time to make sure you weren’t doing too much. Bringing the Littlest Party Member is the real treat for your friends and family, who will take turns holding her and squabble when one of them hogs the baby for too long.

“Hi Mama,” he says, his voice so soft as he crosses the room slowly on socked feet.

“Hi,” you whisper back, the thick feeling in your throat stalling you from speaking any louder. Part of it is fear, fear that you will undo Eddie’s magic touch at lulling Maeve to sleep. Her eyes are almost closed, almost.

Slowly, so slowly, he lowers down to sit by you. His gentle sway keeps up, like a lazy metronome, as he takes a load off. His sigh is carried from the tips of his toes, feeling like an almost burnt-out bulb.

“You’re really good at that,” you murmur, smiling through the tiredness.

“Hmm? Don’t count on it, she’s going to be wide awake again in a sec when she realises we’re not standing up.”

“Mm, maybe. This whole Dad thing suits you, Munson.”

When he smiles, you can still see the shadows beneath his eyes - you have a set to match, his and hers. There’s spit-up on his sleeve and his hair needs a wash. But he is beautiful.

Being parents wasn’t easy, you didn’t think it would be but some days you didn’t think it would be so hard either. You think that maybe if Eddie let his eyes slip closed, he would fall asleep too from his own gentle rocking rhythm.

“I can take a turn,” you say, bringing your hand to rub his back in wide smooth circles, mirroring him and Maeve.

You know his scowl is coming, and still, it makes you smile.

“Mm-mm, my turn,” he said, brows pulled in as his mouth pouts prettily. Much like your friends, it was easy to fall into a parental squabble of taking turns for the shitty nappies and the baby cuddles.

“Baby hogger,” you whisper without malice, pushing yourself closer to kiss his stubbly cheek.

“Yep, my baby now. You get to cuddle her all day when m’workin’.”

Eddie turns his head, lets his nose bump yours. His chin juts forward just a little to beg a kiss. You don’t even need to think about it, loving him is as easy as breathing.

There’s a pause, like bracing for impact, when Maeve makes a noise against his shoulder. The pause in his swaying did not go unnoticed.

“Can’t get anything past her, huh?” you murmur, leaving one last smiley kiss to his full lower lip.

“Nah, m’done for with you two.” His face cracks into a smile, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

You watch as he sits back a little, resting his head against the back of the second-hand sofa. You peel yourself up just enough to drag the coffee table close enough so he can put his feet up.

“Only ‘coz it’s Christmas,” you murmur, seeing his grin.

“You spoil me, baby.”

You spoil him more by dragging your blanket over his lap, sharing its fleecy warmth as Maeve slowly, so slowly, drifts off.

There are still gifts to wrap for Wayne and for your friends, laundry to be tossed in the dryer, but for now, you sit together as your baby sleeps, basking in the glow of Christmas.

Maeve’s breath is deep and steady; she makes these tiny noises that have brought tears to your eyes and Eddie’s on more than one occasion. Partly because she is finally asleep, but mostly because they are the sweetest thing you have ever heard.

Scooting closer, you press another kiss to Eddie’s cheek and close your eyes for just a moment, breathing in his warm spice, a hint of tobacco from his one cigarette - he wants to be around for Maeve, for you.

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

Your voice is just above a whisper, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. Your words warm him, settle deep in his bones and set his heart aglow.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

His lips press yours in a single kiss, sweeter than any hot cocoa, any candy cane.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

#dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #bangaveragefics

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madebycloud · 6 months

Text

Melting

wednesday addams x fem!reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you went trick or treating with your girlfriend. warnings/themes: fluff, soft!wednesday (ooc eheh), halloween, trick-or-treating, making out words: 1.8k

'Tis the witching season!

The whole neighborhood is in a festive mood, with ghouls and ghosts lurking around, kids dressed up as their favorite or the scariest characters.

Now, there's someone who couldn't care less about all the hoopla.

You know Wednesday doesn't like to be all sunshine and rainbows, but secretly, you've always wished she would let her guard down and have some fun.

“It's overrated,” she scoffs. But if there's one thing that can sway her, it's you.

The nostalgia. You missed those carefree days when your only worry was scoring as much candy as possible in one night. And now you have the perfect opportunity to go back to your child self and relive those memories.

“Pleeeeeeaaaaase Wednesday,” you whine, dropping to your knees and clasping your hands in front of her.

She doesn't bat an eye. She just continues to write, her fingers moving across the typewriter.

“Please baby, please love, please,” you try again, pulling out all the stops—cute silly nicknames, puppy dog eyes that you know she secretly adores. “It'll be super fun.”

Finally, she stops writing. She lifts her head and turns to face you. She pauses for a long moment, considering your plea. “Fine. But only on one condition,” she starts. “I know it's important to you—so I'll indulge your request. This is just a one-time thing. We won't be making this a habit.”

“Just... once?”

“Just once,” she repeats.

You think for a moment. “...okay.” You nod. “But I'll choose the costume.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Fine, no funny business. Let's make this quick and clean, understood?”

“Understood.” You grinned.

—

“Hey there, Mario!” you exclaim with an exaggerated Italian accent while waving your hands around, trying to mimic how he does it. “It's-a-me, Luigi, your lovable sidekick!”

“It's-a-me, Luigi? I don't know which I hate more—my ridiculous costume or your ridiculous sense of humor.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at the garish plumber's costume she was forced to wear. She even had to wear a fake mustache. “I can't believe I let you convince me to wear this ridiculous costume.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the daggers she was sending your way. “Don't worry, no one will recognize you as Wednesday with this get-up.” You winked, but she was having none of it. “Besides, this is just a 'one-time' thing, right?”

She groaned inwardly. “Just make sure you carry this, you have a stronger arm.” With a huff, she hands you the pumpkin. “After all, you're the one who suggested this fiasco, so the least you could do is carry the stupid thing.”

Her hand snaked around your wrist, her grip was so tight you could feel it even through your gloves.

You both made your way to Jericho, the streets were alive with kids in crazy costumes running around, laughing and shouting as they made their way to different houses. The streets are lined with jack-o'-lanterns and spider webs.

Suddenly, you spot a house that looks amazing. There are a few children waiting outside, excitedly chattering as they anticipate a chance to fill their buckets with candy.

“Let's try that one,” you say, pointing to the house. “They look like they're giving out some good treats.”

Wednesday just nods and crosses her arms, not seeming interested in going with you to get candies. “I'll just stay here,” she insists.

“Are you sure?” you ask, pausing to look at her for a moment.

She simply nods, waiting for you to get your candies. You give her a quick smile and head towards the house.

You ring the doorbell and wait for someone to answer. A woman with a warm smile opens the door.

“Trick or treat!” you say, holding your pumpkin out.

However, the woman looks at you with disdain. “Aren't you a little too old for this?”

The smile slips from your face as you realize what she means. But before you can say anything else, she closes the door in your face. You stand there, stunned, staring at the closed door.

That was rude.

You returned to Wednesday, your shoulders slumping as you held up your empty pumpkin.

She looks at you with an eyebrow raised, as if to ask what happened.

You scratch the back of your neck and frown. She could almost see the smoke coming out of your ears. “She... she said I was too old for this.”

You can tell she's angry at the way you were treated, and you secretly hope she doesn't plan on getting back at the woman for her rudeness. She can't believe the audacity of that woman, as if there's an age limit for having fun.

Still, you don't let the incident put a damper on the rest of your night.

“It's fine, there's still a lot of houses we can try again,” you say, grabbing her arms and looking around for another house to approach.

But people keep telling you that you're too old for Halloween and refuse to give you candy.

Wednesday senses your disappointment and starts coming up with elaborate plans to avenge the people who have denied you treats. She seems determined to make them pay for their deeds, yet you keep trying to convince her to just move on and keep searching for sweets.

Just as you were about to give up, you came across a house with the porch light off, but you could hear giggling coming from inside.

This time, Wednesday joins you in trick-or-treating.

Together, you knock on the door and a person in a ghost costume stands in the doorway, holding a bowl of candy.

“Trick or treat,” you say, holding out your pumpkin for a sweet.

Wednesday's stare serves as a warning to the person not to disappoint you or suffer the consequences.

The man hesitates before finally grabbing a handful of candy from the bowl and thrusting it into your pumpkin, his hands shaking with fear.

You thank them, and Wednesday gives you a smile as you walk away. “See? Things aren't so bad after all.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes. “Let's just keep going,” she says, before pushing you forward towards the next house.

—

You were walking back from trick-or-treating, your pumpkin filled to the brim with sweets and goodies.

“Let's go back,” Wednesday mumbled as she walked alongside you, still holding onto your hand. Her hand slipped into your biceps, yet she hardly even noticed.

You nod, prepared to return home. However, before you can leave, you hear a voice from behind you.

“Wednesday Addams?!” the boy says in shock, recognizing her beneath the Mario costume.

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Wednesday muttered under her breath. She couldn't believe someone had recognized her in her stupid, ridiculous Mario costume. She could swear in her life that she's never felt so stupid.

You turned to see a boy dressed in a brightly colored insect costume, his antennae bobbing as he waved at both of you. “Hey Eugene!”

Wednesday narrows her eyes. “What are you doing here, Eugene?”

“I came to get some candy!” He replied eagerly, his eyes sparkling, but then his eyes widened. “Wait... is that really you... Wednesday?” he asks, taking a step forward.

Wednesday clenches her jaw and you stifle a laugh, amused by her reaction. You offer Eugene some candy from your pumpkin, and he excitedly accepts it, thanking you.

“Eugene, can you take a picture of us?” you request, handing him your phone.

Wednesday snapped her head in your direction, her eyebrows furrowed as she glared at you. She's just about lost it. She swore in her mind that she would never take a picture wearing this ridiculous costume.

You flung your arm around her and gave a peace sign as Eugene held up your phone. You chuckle and give Wednesday's waist a reassuring squeeze.

“Three, two...”

Wednesday knows she will be miserable. But she looked at your smile and realized that, despite her aversion to the costume, she didn't want to ruin your fun. So she reluctantly struck a peace sign, hoping that no one would recognize her under that ridiculous mustache.

“One!” the flash flickers, and the photo is captured.

She couldn't deny the warmth in her chest as she watched the picture saved to your phone.

—

You realized that your feet were starting to feel tired after walking so much. Eager to rest your tired legs, the two of you made your way over to a nearby bench, tucked away amidst the shadows of the trees.

Wednesday is now holding the pumpkin-shaped basket full of sweets while you gaze up at the stars in the sky. She eventually pulled out one of the candies and popped it into her mouth.

“Taste good?” You turn to look at her.

“Tastes like poison,” she teases before popping it into her mouth.

You can't help but stare at her lips. Why did her lips look like they were begging to be kissed?

“Do you want one?” Wednesday asks, seemingly reading your thoughts.

You were almost too stunned to speak, but a soft “yes” managed to escape your lips.

Small smile formed on her lips, as though she knew exactly what she was doing. She offered the candy before you swallowed it whole, savoring the sweetness on your tongue.

A glance at her lips and then back at her eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Before you knew it, Wednesday had leaned in to share the sweet with you, her lips soft and supple on yours, the taste of candy still lingering on your tongue.

When you finally pulled away, you were left weak in the knees and breathless.

Wednesday's lips part slightly, her breath brushing against your cheek. You lean in again, but she stops you with a gentle hand on your chest.

“One condition,” she whispers.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“I get to choose the costume next year.”

“We're going to trick or treat again next year?” you ask, grinning. “Fine,” you concede, “your choice of costume next year then.”

With Wednesday's permission granted, you lean in for another kiss, this time lingering even longer than before. Your lips lock together in a sensual dance.

But you pull away, teasing her. “Wait.”

“What now?”

“Well, I was thinking we could dress up as Remy and his human companion, Alfredo from Ratatouille.”

Wednesday's eyes narrow, clearly annoyed at your choice.

“Okay, I admit, that was a terrible idea, but what about SpongeBob and Patrick? or I can go as Squidward, and we can be rivals instead,” you suggest, desperate to find a costume she'll actually like.

She rolls her eyes, but you could already see the corner of her lips twitching up into a small smile. “You did not just suggest that.”

“Oh yes I did.”

“I'm not dressing up as a rat with a chef's hat next year, that's for sure. And you're not going to make me dress up as a sponge either.”

You smirk. “Maybe not, but I'll still find a way to make you dress up as something ridi—”

Before you finish your sentence, Wednesday's lips are on yours once more, drowning out your words. Her fingers glide down your jaw as she draws you in closer.

“That's it,” she whispers between kisses. “You're stuck with me now.”

And you wouldn't want it any other way.

note: me

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday imagine #wedneday addams imagines #wednesday series #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x you #jenna ortega x you #wednesday netflix #wednesday x you #wednesday x fem!reader #jenna x reader #reader insert #female reader

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strang3lov3 · 23 days

Text

Invisible Line

Summary- Boundary after boundary is crossed when your boss is left with no choice but to share his bed with you.

Roman Roy x F!Reader | 5.8k words

Tags- one bed trope mothafuckas!! mutual masturbation, unprotected piv, cream pie, oral (f receiving), come eating, dirty talk, soft dom!roman, power imbalance, needy and desperate reader, light degradation, manipulative Roman, Roman’s not the nicest but he does let you snuggle him

A/N- This is my first Roman Roy fic, so please be gentle 🫣 I know he’s got his issues with sex, so just play pretend with me. My usual Joel readers, I haven’t forgotten about you, he’s cumming soon 🫡🍆 but if you were feeling so inclined I’d appreciate it if you gave Roman a chance 🥺🩷

I had a fucking team of editors for this fic!! Thank you thank you thank you @noxturnalpascal, @papipascalispunk, @beefrobeefcal and @pinkypromisepascal for polishing this baby up

Fic notifs, Masterlist, Ko-Fi

You’ll never get used to the type of hotels you now stay in. All the lights glittering, floors shining, ceilings so high. You’d call it luxurious, but to your boss, Roman, this is considered modest. You’re always reminded that you and he come from two very different worlds.

As his assistant, you’re accompanying him on his “bullshit amusement park safety meeting in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere,” as Roman had so graciously put it. He’s got such a way with words. He’s exaggerating of course, always so hyperbolic. You’re not in the middle of nowhere, you’re in Nashville, Tennessee. It’s early June and the air is finally beginning to cool for the evening.

“We’re fully booked,” the receptionist says to you after first explaining that no, there’s no mix up of sorts, you had only booked one room and not two adjoining rooms like you’d thought.

Just fifteen minutes earlier, you helped Roman with his bags and such up to his room. Roman carried the heaviest of his own bags to be a gentleman, call it his soft spot for you or whatever, but just to be a dick, still had you carry his briefcase that he was more than capable of carrying on his own. It is your job, after all.

When you arrived with him to the spacious room, decorated with abstract wall art and odd sculptures, Roman wasted no time in flopping on the single king sized bed. After seeing no door to connect to an adjoining room, Roman sent you back to reception. “Well, better figure it out,” he said, waving you away, his eyes never once looking away from his phone screen. “I’m set here, so thanks. You can go fuck off. Have a nice evening and all that. Enjoy masturbating in your crispy white bed sheets, courtesy of Hyatt hospitality.” Always so vulgar. You’re not shocked by it anymore.

“Nothing?” you ask the receptionist. “There’s no way. I just need a single queen, I don’t care what floor it’s on. Isn’t there something?”

“Bonnaroo,” the receptionist explains, once more typing on her keyboard to double check and see if there’s a room for you. “Yeah, I’m sorry, we don’t have any other rooms available. Bonnaroo weekend is always when we’re busiest. People book months in advance. I wish I could help you,” she frowns apologetically.

You’re not upset. It’s your own fault. And you’d seen Bonnaroo posters around the lobby advertising the shuttle that transports people from the hotel to the festival. And you’d seen the headliners, too. Radiohead, Red Hot Chili Peppers, LCD Soundsystem. Friday and Saturday tickets are sold out. You’re not surprised it’s all booked.

“No, I know,” you reply. “It’s my fault.”

You sigh deeply, and the receptionist types into her computer, prints a piece of paper and hands it to you. “This is a list of hotels nearby. Call around, they might have something.” She wishes you good luck, and you pull out your phone to begin making the calls, only then realizing your battery is at 2%. Now you have nowhere to go but back to Roman’s room.

–

You knock on Roman’s door and wait. Nothing. You knock once more, nothing again. You’re about to knock for a third time when Roman finally opens, his shirt a few buttons undone and his belt loosened. “What do you want?”

“Can you let me in?” you ask, “I need to use your phone, please.”

Roman’s taken some getting used to. You never quite know where you stand with him, what exactly he thinks of you. Moment to moment, you never know which Roman you’re gonna get – the flirting Roman, the occasional sweet and tender Roman, or the cold, sarcastic, uncaring and taunting Roman.

“Can you let me in?” Roman mocks, opening his door wider and guiding you into his room with his hand on your lower back. Taunting Roman. His touch makes your tummy flutter. Something about his unpredictability thrills you, excites you. You’re attracted to it, and you don’t know why.

Your phone charges by a nearby outlet as you sit at the desk with the room phone as Roman paces around, rifling through his suitcase to find his pajamas. They’re simple looking clothes, pale blue bottoms and a plain white shirt, but you know the cost of the outfit is equivalent to someone’s rent. He changes in front of you, something he’s always done. You’re not exactly sure why he does that or what he’s trying to do, but you do your best to not steal any glimpses of him as you begin calling the numbers on the paper, though the task proves to be difficult. Flirting Roman?

The first hotel on your list is The Hermitage, which is a bust. The Joseph is also a bust. Conrad Nashville, same deal. You’re keeping your voice as low as possible, hoping Roman doesn’t overhear your conversation. The last thing you want to do is give him more ammo. You sigh as you cross out the names on the paper one by one with one of the hotel’s branded pens.

Roman’s on the bed, smirking, rolling his eyes. You can see it in your peripherals. “You fucked up, didn’t you? Forgot to book yourself a room?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, now calling the fourth and final hotel on your list.

“You shut up,” Roman says. “Told you to double check.”

You wave a hand in his direction to quiet him. After asking your now three times rehearsed ‘Do you have any rooms available?’ and being met with an apology and a no, you reply to the person on the other end of the call with a “Yup, Bonnaroo, understood. Thank you.” Sighing, you hang up the phone and bury your face in your palms. You know what your only option is here, and you’re scared to look at it, to look at Roman. You know that even if you don’t verbally ask, your eyes will say it all.

Roman slides off the bed and makes his way to you, then nudges your foot with his own. “Am I doing you a favor tonight?”

“I uh…”

“Oh, of course I am. Good thing I’m feeling generous, huh?” Roman’s lips are curled into an almost-sweet smile when you finally look at him. “Bed is mine,” he enunciates. “You can take the floor, I don’t care. Or push those chairs together or some shit.” You look at the chairs he’s referring to and nod. Roman goes back to his bed, and you pull your own set of pajamas from your suitcase, then change in the bathroom. Once out of the bathroom, you push together the chairs that Roman was referring to.

“Oh god, I didn’t think you’d actually do that. No, no, I was just joking – we’ll share the fucking bed. Yeah?” Roman pats the other side of the bed. “I’m not cruel like that, Christ. Making me feel like some fuckin’ sort of - sort of sadist. Not gonna bite you.”

“Won’t you?” you tease.

That was the wrong thing to say. Your blood goes cold as Roman glares at you, displeased with your teasing. Reminding you of your place, that even though Roman can joke, make however many unsavory comments as he’d like, you can’t always do the same. Cold Roman. But then Roman cracks a smile, flashing his pretty white teeth and winks, his eyes sparkling. The boss-employee dynamic between you and him is always inconsistent, things going from professional to unprofessional, from friendly to friendlier.

He pulls the covers down the bed, once more patting the space next to him, indicating his invitation for you to join him. You round the bed and slide under the covers, the sheets feeling cool against your bare feet and legs. “You’ve got ulterior motives, don’t you? You fucked up the booking on purpose.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed. “No, Roman.”

“You totally did,” Roman says as you adjust the pillows behind you, “You’re trying to entrap me. You’ve weaseled your way into my bed so you can sue me later for harassment or some shit but I’m telling you, it’s not gonna happen. Trust me when I say that it’s in your best interest to behave yourself.” Roman drags his finger down the center of the bed, bisecting it evenly. “Don’t cross this line. Not even your fuckin’…pinky finger. Got it?”

“Understood, Mr. Roy.”

“Attagirl,” he chirps. “Wait, ew. Jesus Christ, Roman, you call me Roman. Not that Mr. Roy shit. God, that’s gross.”

You’ll take any chance you can to get under his skin after all he does to you. Flipping over on your side, you face the window and watch the city lights dance before pulling out your phone and silently scrolling through Instagram. Roman does similar, though he doesn’t reciprocate the courtesy of doing so quietly. He watches videos at full volume, shaking the bed with his giggles.

You shift to your other side, now facing Roman, who lays on his back. Your phone rests on the bed as you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks. You don’t often see him look relaxed like how he does now – how sexy he looks in those thin pajamas of his, his biceps toned and his bulge protruding from beneath the fabric of his pants. His usually sleek hair is slightly messy, and you wonder how those silky strands would feel between your fingers as you tug on them, with him holding you close in a tight embrace and his lips connected to yours, swallowing your moans.

You tell yourself not to think about it, about him. Don’t think, don’t think, god, do not think about him. Don’t think about his thick bulge or his hands or their wrinkles, the bluish-green veins that climb up his knuckles. Don’t think about his waist, don’t think about his soft tummy, or the thin line of hair leading down his groin and beneath his pants.

Roman’s looking at you, wearing that sly, cocky grin of his, pleased with the knowledge of what he does to you. He shuts his phone off and turns off the light on his nightstand, the faint glow coming from the open curtains now the only light.

He doesn’t take long to drift into a slumber, though you do, still thinking of the things you shouldn’t be. Images of Roman still dance in your mind for hours, you watch the time go by when you check your phone’s lock screen. You hear his voice in your head, that two word instruction from him playing over like a broken record. Behave yourself. And god, you can fucking smell him. He smells clean, like he always does, with notes of Caroline Herrera’s Bad Boy filling your nostrils – a cologne with a truly obnoxious bottle and an even more obnoxious name. Roman picked it out one time you were with him while he was shopping, just to piss you off. You’ve never hated the smell, though, and you love it even more on his skin. But he smells like sweat too, just a bit. So masculine and slightly musky, you can almost taste him.

Your hand has moved on its own accord underneath your shirt and between your breasts. You’re not sure when it happened, but you become acutely aware of it when your knuckles brush against your nipple and you gasp.

Roman stirs in his sleep, but he’s dead to the world. And you’re good at keeping yourself quiet – at least you think you are.

You turn your head to look at Roman, pinching and twisting at your nipples. Alternating between soft and hard, gentle and rough touches. Roman’s got his arm draped over his head, his palm so close to you. You imagine it’s that hand, his hand, squeezing and groping the soft flesh of your breasts, pretending that tingling feeling when you drag your thumbs over your sensitive buds is his tongue, all hot and wet. You let yourself breathe, the quietest moans escaping your lips.

And then you let your fingers dip lower, your fingertips skating down your body, feeling your sides and the soft curve of your tummy, your hips. Your hand goes lower and lower, your thighs parting as you find your core but not moving your legs wide enough to cross Roman’s invisible line. Tracing your lips first, your fingers travel closer to where you need to feel them the most. You’re wet, so fucking wet as you press your middle finger against your hole, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit.

You shift in the bed, spreading your legs wider and now circling your clit with your middle and ring fingers, dipping them into your entrance once more to gather your arousal and drag it up through your folds. Massaging yourself, you still pretend it’s Roman’s hand as you take in that sweet feeling that’s quickly beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each circle of your fingertips on your clit, fighting yourself to keep your hips as still as can be.

Romans voice startles you. “For a second I wondered if we’re near a fuckin’... earthquake, or uh– fault line or something, but you’re just rubbing one out next to your boss. Wow. Do you always shake the bed this much when you masturbate?”

You gasp, “Roman.”

“Or just when you’re next to me?” You’re not really sure what the right move here is. You could pull your hand from under your pants, but Roman’s already caught you red handed. Leaving your hand between your thighs is not the right move either. “Funny,” he adds, “I thought we just had a conversation about behaving. Didn’t we?”

“I know, I–”

“I mean, you get brownie points for not crossing the line in the bed, I guess,” Roman lifts the covers of the bed, then reaches for your knee and gently pushes it back on your side of the bed. “But you are crossing all sorts of other lines. You must think you’re sneaky. I heard you moaning, you know,” he accuses. He mocks you then, all snark and derision as he lets out exaggerated and breathy moans you’re almost sure you weren’t making. Roman, oh, Roman! Yeah, right there, Roman, please…

“Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?” he asks as he reaches for your jaw with one of his hands, turning you to look at him. He pinches, fingertips digging into the softness of your cheeks. No hiding now. “Is that what gets you off?”

“No,” you stammer.

“Liar.”

The air feels thick and Roman’s hazel eyes are dark, inky black, perhaps from the lack of light or maybe, you think, his own arousal? No, probably not. He looks genuinely pissed and you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, his intense gaze making you squirm. But you can’t seem to look away, either. He allows a silence to hang heavily between you both as he stares at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite read. And that’s when you notice it – with the hand that’s not holding your jaw, he’s stroking his cock underneath his pants. You can see the bulge, the shifting of his hand.

“You’re touching yourself too,” you point out.

“Yeah, now I am. I’m a man. You made blood rush to my penis with your fucking moans and your Roman this and Roman that,” he huffs. Pulling down his pants and letting his cock spring free, he continues, “So my dick is hard. It should be your problem to deal with, but I’m bailing you out yet again. Always cleaning your— fuck,” he stutters, “Your messes.”

You have no clue what’s happening here. Roman lets go of his cock for a moment and he reaches for your arm, guiding you to start moving your hand once again. “Get it out of your system,” he says. “Go on. You didn’t have an issue fucking yourself next to me five minutes ago, did you?”

Cautiously, as with Roman you know full well that this could be a trap, you begin to move your hand with his guidance. “Yeah, good girl,” he whispers in a hushed, almost imperceptible tone, one that you probably weren’t supposed to hear. “God, I can’t believe you,” he says more clearly this time. “You better make it quick. We’re getting this over with, and we’re not looking at each other. Call it your punishment or something, just fuckin’— take care of yourself.”

Roman adjusts so he’s flat on his back and resumes stroking his cock. His eyes are screwed shut and you’re watching his chest rise and fall, fully breaking the rule he just set. But you can’t help yourself, he looks so gorgeous like this. His pubic hair is longer than you would have expected Roman to have, but gorgeous nonetheless. He’s not the longest but his head is wide and round, with thick veins climbing his shaft.

“You’re watching, you fucking creep,” he says in a breathy tone, his words slightly broken. He’s not looking at you, only at the ceiling above. “Breaking the rules. You have a hard time with that, don’t you? Look, I can follow rules. Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

Roman rolls his eyes at that, then flips on his side to finally look at you. A flicker of what looks to be relief quickly washes over his features, but quickly disappears. He reaches for your shirt, hiking it up your torso and tugging – up, take it off. You do as he asks, taking off your top and exposing your breasts to the chill of the air in the hotel room.

“I hope you know that I’m not gonna touch you,” Roman says.

“I know,” you breathe. “I know you won’t, I just, I just…”

“Just what?” Roman asks, still stroking his cock. You take off the rest of your pajamas and adjust yourself slightly, then spread your legs wide, the invisible line be damned as your knees fall back toward your chest and you rub your swollen clit. God, how you need his fingers inside you. You’d fuck yourself on your own fingers, but it won’t satisfy you in the way you think Roman could. “Spit it out,” Roman demands.

Fuck it. You’ll deal with whatever consequences later. In the boldest of moves, you reach for the hand that strokes his cock and bring it to your pussy, guiding Roman’s middle and ring fingers to your entrance and pushing them inside.

Roman wears a twisted sort of smile as he curls his fingers inside you, now playing his own game with you. He taunted you with an accusation of ulterior motives, but it was all talk, like how most of Roman is. He suspected this before, but now he's certain: you have nothing but need for him. Amused by it, he’s now playing his game with you. As you moan for him he wonders, how much can he toy with you, drag this out? How much will you beg for him? Your hand is wrapped around his cock now by your own choice, he wonders how low will you sink, and how high will he feel by the end of whatever this is?

You’re inching closer to him. Desperate.

“Your hand is wrapped around my cock,” he whispers. “And you buried my fingers inside your cunt. Is something not clicking in that head of yours?”

“So good,” you breathe. You work his shaft, twisting your hand up and down. He’s thick, veiny, his head feels smooth in your palm. Roman’s touch is firm as removes your hand from his cock to hover it beneath your chin. “Spit,” he tells you. You’re so pliant, and do as you’re told, spitting into your own palm, Roman putting it back where he wants it. “Wow. I pull my cock out and you’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”

All you do is nod.

“God you’re soaked. Are you always this soaked for me? Just walking around all day, panties fuckin’ ruined?”

“Sh– shut up.”

Oh, you’ve still got some bite left. Roman wonders how quickly he can make that diminish. “Poor thing, did I hit a nerve? You wanna fuck me that badly? Are you really that desperate for your boss?” You say nothing, just inch even closer to Roman now. You hook a leg over his hip, moving your cunt towards what you need most from him, slowly guiding him in your hand ever closer to your entrance and hoping he’ll remove his fingers from you and replace them with his cock. And thank god, he does it. He pushes your hand away, gripping his member and notching the tip in your entrance. Fucking finally.

But he only collects your wetness on his tip, then spreads it down his shaft. He pushes his pelvis forward, rubbing his cock against your hooded clit and making you shiver.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he taunts, now dragging his cockhead down your dripping seam.

“Roman,” you whine.

“Roman,” he says, mimicking your whine, exaggerating how pathetic you sound. “Is that all you can say?”

“Fuck me,” you gasp. “Just fuck me, Roman.”

“Yeah, I know. You know my name and how to nag me to fuck you. I get it. What you’re not getting is that I don’t care. It’s not gonna happen tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that… Just gonna fuckin’ play with you like this,” he hums, now pushing his cock up against your clit again, tapping you. “Yeah, you’re good. This is… this is good. I’ve been so bored recently, you know? Wonder what happens when I do this,” Roman stops tapping his head against your sensitive clit, now sliding himself left and right across your sex. He bites his bottom lip when you gasp and squirm.

“I wonder if I could make you come just doing this,” he muses, continuing to tease you. “I know I could. I could blow my load on your pussy right now and make you clean up a mess for once. Is that what you need? For me to show you what you’re meant for?”

Maybe, you think. Maybe not. You don’t know what you think. You need his cock. Roman pushes himself forward, fitting just his head into your hole again. And you think it’s coming, the fullness, the pressure, the ache and the stretch and the burn. He’s bent on his two prior rules, but compromise never comes. He doesn’t give in to you. Roman’s grinning, giggling to himself as he draws his hips backward, denying you. Watching how you struggle for him, how you whine and squirm and push your hips towards him. “Is it?” he asks.

“Fuck, is what?”

“Is that what you need?”

“Yeah, I need you to fuck me. Roman, please. Need it – need you inside.”

Roman pushes out an exhale somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Oh, that’s funny. That’s not what I asked at all. Is listening really that hard for you? What do they call that, tunnel vision but for hearing. Tunnel hearing? I don’t think that’s right.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Google it for me.”

“Roman.”

“What the fuck do you think I hired you for? Google it. For me. Thanks.”

Roman lifts his dick again, rubbing it against your clit and then lining himself up again, all as you scramble for your phone and quickly open Safari. ‘Funnel visipn bur for hearin g’ is what you type, the combined sensations of Roman’s teasing and the too-bright screen making your task difficult. “Audi-auditory exclusion,” you manage to tell him.

“Lemme see it,” Roman takes your phone from your hand, squinting at the screen. “Auditory exclusion is a form of temporary loss of hearing occurring under high stress,” he reads in his phony serious tone, still teasing you, bumping into your clit and then notching himself at your entrance, again and again and again. Giving you just a taste of what you know he could offer you instead. He’s opening Wikipedia now. “Auditory exclusion happens as a result of the physiological effects of the acute stress response, specifically an increased heart rate.”

“Fuck me, Roman, fuck me, please, I’m begging, please, please…”

“Begging’s nice, good. Very good. Very cute. But uh–” Roman points to your phone, “I’m busy reading here, so maybe quiet down. I really don’t want to hear it,” he laughs breathlessly, but nothing about this is funny to you. You’re in tears now. Tears of anger, frustration, shock. Roman lines up with your slick hole, just as he’s done repeatedly before. He notices your tears, “My god, you’re crying for it. So desperate, aren’t you?” he mocks your pout, wiping away your tears. You tell him you need him. “Need me? What a strong word. Yeah, I know that you need me. Message clear. God, you repeat yourself a lot. Fucking annoying.”

Fuck this. Roman’s still on Wikipedia and down some rabbit-hole not even related to auditory exclusion. He’s stopped teasing you, his cock just resting, nestled at your entrance as he scrolls. And you take your chance.

You reach for his shoulders and flip yourself so you’re above him, then sink down on his cock. Roman’s startled but he moans as he disappears into you and you sigh, finally feeling that stretch of his cock you’ve been craving since you don’t even know when – long before tonight. Roman watches where your body connects to his, seemingly shocked. He scoffs. “Oh, fuck you.”

Roman pushes your body off of his, he’s small but stronger than he looks. He flips you on your tummy and his touch is harsh but just what you need when he finally grabs your hips, placing his palm between your shoulder blades and forcing your chest down to the mattress. He was somewhat gentle when he was teasing you before, but all of that is gone now, as he lines up with your entrance and slams his hips into you, rocking you forward. He pulls out almost all the way before doing it again, harder. So many noises. You – gushing on his cock, moaning, crying out for him. Roman – his thighs slapping against yours, his grunts and his curses and breathy groans. The bed creaking with each of his thrusts. Roman fills you up better than you could imagine – fucking perfectly –hitting your walls, that sweet spot inside you.

“So fucking wet for your boss. What’s that say about you, huh?”

Roman grips your hips tight – too tight. He’s denting his nails into your skin and it hurts, his thumbs are digging into your lower back. There’s no fluidity to his thrusts, no steady roll of his hips. Just Roman, parting your insides with the harsh rutting of his hips. His heavy balls swinging, bouncing against your clit, his soft tummy warm against your back.

He sets a steady rhythm, a rhythm for his pleasure alone. Fucking you seemingly in two, exactly how you want it. Of course you want it this way. He can hear it in your muffled whimpers and cries, he wonders if the sheets are stained under your face, soaked with your tears. Roman holds your waist, forcing you up with your back against his chest. “Fuck,” you cry, and Roman wraps a hand over your mouth, the other is groping your breasts. Not that he doesn’t love the sounds you’re making for him, he just wants to give you another reminder of who’s in charge here – of how this is gonna go down, according to Roman.

He tugs your earlobe between his teeth, his nose nudging your cheek. His mouth travels lower then, he bites at your neck where it meets your shoulders, the stubble on his cheeks scratching your skin. He’s sucking at your flesh hard enough to leave a mark – for what reason, he’s not entirely sure. To punish and to hurt you, humiliate you, maybe even mark you as his. It’s possessive and primal in essence, how the way you need him so fervently makes him feel powerful in a way he often does not. And you’re not helping your case at all, with your squirming and your whimpers only egging him on. You tried to take what you need from him, but he’ll drill into your head that you’ll only receive what he’s willing to give to you.

He wonders what comes after this. If you’ll turn on your side in bed, leaking with his come and hiding yourself from him, or if maybe you’ll cling to him instead. He knows that he’ll lay next to you after this and wonder what you’ll be like for the rest of this trip. Will you be shyer, about the same as usual, or maybe even bold? He’ll experiment with you, see how you react to a cold shoulder or a shower of attention. See what you’ll do when he squeezes your ass, or when sitting next to him in the car, the helicopter, or at dinner when his hand finds your thigh and inches closer to your sex. Will you lean into it? Will you squirm and push his hand away?

His hands travel along your sides and down your torso, he can tell you’re loving his touch. You’re shameless in your reaction to him, your pussy squeezing him, your wanton moans. Curious, Roman reaches for your clit just to see how you’ll respond. He teases you, tries to write his name with his fingertips into you. Lewd sounds of skin slapping skin, the obscenity of your pussy’s slick noises. He’s not going to last much longer, that is quite clear.

He doesn’t care to try to make you finish first, as a gentleman should, although Roman nor anyone else would describe himself as such. You’re on his time. He knows how desperate you are to come, but he doesn’t care. He’ll get his first, something he doesn’t often get otherwise. And so his pace quickens, still biting and nipping at the flesh of your neck and shoulders. He bets that in all those late-night fantasies of yours about this moment, touching yourself in the dark, you didn't picture him being a biter. This much is evident with your pussy clenching on him and your short gasps showing your surprise.

He savors that feeling in every inch of himself – the power he holds knowing you’re aching not only to come on his cock, but to feel his touch, to experience him. It’s still just a game to Roman. Maybe it’ll always be a game. He’s not sure yet.

His cock twitches inside you, that warm and sticky feeling in his balls is beginning to crescendo. “I need to come,” you beg. “Roman, please make me come, I need-.”

“Shut up. I don’t care.” Roman fucks you with frenzied thrusts, and he doesn’t pull out to stroke himself above you, doesn’t ask you if you’re on the pill or if you want him to come on your ass or your tits or in your mouth. Roman shamelessly lets himself go and fills you with his hot spend. His noises are like music as he comes inside you, melodic grunts and moans coming from deep within him. And you take it all, everything he gives you because that’s what you’re meant for.

Roman takes heaving breaths above you, pulling out and his spend spills onto the comforter. He doesn’t give a shit. And as you collapse down onto your hands and knees you think that’s that, that he really doesn’t care. That all of this was probably about Roman savoring the feeling of having control over another person, and that dangling pleasure over her head is how he’ll get it.

Roman climbs off the bed and you’re trembling. He flips you onto your back, pulls you forward by your legs so that your sex is centered with his face as he kneels at the edge of the bed. His mind has changed quickly – first he wanted to know what would happen if he didn’t make you come. He thought next about eating you out from behind, denying you connection as he tastes you, buries himself in your most intimate place. But you’ve done well for him, and it’s clear that you’ll take what he gives you at any cost. Roman watches you with hooded eyelids, offering you that connection as he brings his face to your center, licking a thick stripe up your cunt. Call it his soft spot.

“Don’t say I don’t do anything for you.”

Roman dives back into you, and you hesitate before reaching for his scalp. Tentatively, you do it anyway, just to see if he’ll react. He might smack your hands away, maybe he’ll place them down on the bed. You’re sure he won’t hold them.

He lets your hands linger. Your fingers tug on those sleek strands of hair as he eats you, his scruff chafing your thighs. His eyes alternate between fluttering shut and peering up at you as dips his tongue into your entrance, licking his spend from your folds. He brings a hand to your cunt, two of his fingers pushing into your heat as his tongue dances circles around your clit. He’ll never tell you how sweet you taste on his lips.

“Yes, oh god, Roman.” He’s kissing your cunt, lapping at your folds, his tongue teasing all of that sensitive flesh. His fingers curl inside you at the same time he sucks your clit between his lips, making you writhe for him. “Right there, Roman.”

You’re not sure if he’s indulging himself or you at this moment. He eats you like a man starved, he eats you like it's his artwork. Nipping at your folds, his fingers inside you never once faltering their movements. You grind against his mouth as his tongue flicks and swirls. After all that’s taken place tonight, it doesn’t take you long to come. You bite down on your moans as pleasure washes over you, and you come on Roman’s tongue, gushing into the palm of his hand. When he’s ensured that he’s milked you entirely, he pulls away and takes his place back on his side of the invisible line.

Roman had wondered if - once in bed - would you cling to him or turn away, but he doesn’t allow you that choice. Instead, he takes your wrist between his fingers as he turns away, curling on his side, effectively wrapping your body to spoon around his. He keeps your arm secured firm under his, tucked around his torso. Tender Roman. You’re on edge, he’s been relatively quiet this whole time, and you’re expecting some snarky comment or a vulgar insult. “I swear to god, I will smother you with my fucking pillow if you snore,” is all he says. His threat, albeit baseless, comforts you.

Tagging some folks I think may be interested? I posted a few weeks ago about writing Roman and he’s finally here!Those of you that engaged with that post plus some other friends, I hope you check this out. If you want me to remove your tag, lmk 🩷 @ievutebebe @notjustjavierpena @dorims @molt3ngold @sweetenerobert @tightjeansjavi @i-smoke-chapstick @w73n @lilipads @annoyingtheoristcloud @meyelowe @I-ange-maudit @val1821 @ladygrey03 @mommymilkers0526 @motions1ckness @wellthisisjustridiculous @marytudorr @yangyangsbitch @trexwithwings-blog @ay3mily @brooklynb8by @cru3lfools @apocolyqse @foreverasleep717 @anyukadfasza @clocksonthewall79 @dumb--blonde @littlevenicebitch69 @mads198-9 @yazsos @smokietaylor

#roman roy smut #roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #succession #succession fic #succession x reader #strang3lov3

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sleepyangelkami · 1 year

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PASTORS DAUGHTER I e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 5.8K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - ellie williams had always been best friends with the pastors daughter, the rebel who went against every single thing her mother and father told her to. Ellie knew this, she was used to this. However, what she wasn't used to, what she seemed to never understand was her little sister. She never crossed a line, adored anything and everything thrown in her clutch, never made her mother or father frown and wore a pretty silver cross around her neck. ellie williams wanted nothing more than to rip it off and have the pasters daughter whimpering beneath her. she didn't know a little lust could create this mess.

☆ WARNINGS - intended lower case, implied smut, suggestive themes, innocence kink, size kink?, argument with parents, yelling, homophobia, religious 'trauma'?, slow burn, use of y/n, sisters best friend trope lmao. I don't know much about rules or whatever in religion but we're not gathered here to read about jesus because we worship ellie williams!!!

series masterlist

ash/ashley = older sister btw!

ellie williams still remembered the exact moment she laid eyes on you, y/n l/n, her best friends little sister. It was christmas and ashley had dragged her to this stupid holy party, it was the church that was organising it so it was mandatory that ashley be there to celebrate the birth of jesus alongside her father who had done the mass. she had done everything in her power not to be there but her parents had enough of her scandals and 'shaming' the family name. she forced her to come with the simple permission that she would be allowed to bring a plus one, as if the whole town weren't already coming. ellie remembered laughing in her face earlier that night, stating that she should have a good time by herself but by no means would the girl be joining her.

and yet there she stood at one of the back walls of the church.

she pulled her flannel closer to her figure, ignoring the way the winter air continuously made her shiver. she watched as ashley conversed with an older couple, and with everything in her ellie attempted not to burst out laughing at how out of place she looked. her parents had forced her to converse with the guests, stating it would be rude if she had ignored them and ellie simply waved her off stating she'd be fine against one of the walls. ellie williams knew the pastor and his wife hated her already so who was she to keep them waiting? she simply held a snarky grin with a quick 'father and mrs. l/n.' as a greeting.

"if you're cold, we have hot coco."

the sound of a girl's voice almost made ellie williams fall over, however, she stabilized herself against the teal wall behind her with chipped paint. "what?" no doubt her voice had come out much ruder than intended due to the fright she had gotten.

but then she turned and she saw it. she saw you. you were dressed in a little red dress, ultimately a lot more festive than she. your hair was pinned back but not all of it, a lot still sat at your shoulders, almost covering that pretty silver chain you wore, a holy cross pendant on it. it didn't take ellie much after that, your sweet tone, your mary jane shoes, the way your fingers fiddled with one another in slight worry. she knew then and there she had to absolutely ruin you. "well, i just meant that if you wanted to get a little warmer, we're giving out hot coco over there b-but you don't have to." suddenly your voice was quieter, much more anxiety filled in it as you worried you may have upset the girl, your father was always telling you how you spoke too much.

and as apologetic as ellie was, as she wanted nothing more than to instantly let an apology tumble from her lips, instantly state that you were not the reason she was using such a tone, that it was merely the fact she hated everything in this goddamn church, she was interrupted before she could utter a word. "well, i see you've met the prize possession of the family." ellie whipped around to see ashley practically by her side, leaning against one of the old wooden chairs. "ellie meet y/n, my little sister, and y/n this is ellie." little sister? ellie had heard all about you. about how you were practically a pastor yourself, how you devoted your very life to god, got at least nineties in every single test, how you outshone ashley l/n in just about everything you did and yet somehow she loved you more than anything in the world.

and of course you had heard about ellie williams, how could you not have? she was a delinquent. if you hadn't heard about all of ellie and ashley's amazing adventures, filled with alcohol and ciagrette's, you would have known her from school. of course, she'd never notice a girl like you, in a grade below her, head always down in the hallways and clutching your bag as if it were a safety net. but ellie williams, everyone knew ellie williams. she was either beating up some kid who 'deserved it' or snapping at a teacher with a raised voice. nonetheless, you always steered clear of the girl. your parents had a morbid distaste to the girl, you knew that much and yet every time she came knocking at the door, she was allowed into the house instantly and appointed up to your older sisters bedroom. everytime she had been there you were either at choir, an after school club or sitting out in the backyard, maybe once or twice in the living room. whatever the case, she was in the house, grabbing your sister and back out of there, she never had time to stick around and meet you.

ellie's sage eyes sunk down to your silky thighs and how your puffed out red dress flowed around them perfectly, then her eyes racked up to where your chest was, completely covered by the red fabric, she couldn't help but wonder what you wore underneath. however, you were her best friends sister, that certainly... complicated things. she was brought back to life at the sight of your shiny silver cross. "nice to meet you, y/n, heard a lot about you." and suddenly the two girls giggled as if it were an inside joke. you hated being the joke.

your doe eyes turned up at your sister, worry stricken features. "she's fuckin' with you, y/n/n." nickname tumbling from her lips easily as she spun around to face ellie, her arm being tossed over your shoulder. ashley was slightly shorter than ellie, however, you were a great deal shorter than your sister. it made ellie wonder just how bigger she was. she wondered how her hands would fit in your own, pinning you down, how they'd caress and squish your pudgy thighs together. she wondered how small you'd look beneath her. suddenly, she was thinking of every sound you could possibly make and god she tried hard not to show it on her face.

her dirty thoughts were cut short with the sound of your name being spoke briskly yet swiftly, a hint of authority in the sharp tone. you snapped your head to the side to see an awaiting mother of yours, standing with two candle sticks. "what's up her ass now?" ashley questioned, giving her mother a strange look. it was no secret that the girl simply found her own parents insufferable. and even with her tone, you managed to ignore her crude words especially in the 'house of god', you were very much used to your sisters language. (not that you approved)

you swallowed briefly. "i promised daddy i'd light the candles for 'em." and yet you yawned as you spoke, hand coming up to rub at your eye. you were tired. and while everything in ellie was fighting with her to all but coo at your tired face she couldn't deny the way she swallowed harshly at the sound of the word 'daddy' tumbling from your lips. you were so fucking innocent. the brunette girl was rolling up her sleeves, puffing out air and fawning that the weather had taken a certain change as if she weren't completely hot by her own corrupt mind. but how could she not? when your white stockings stood out so prominently and your fingers wound together, despite the two little thin silver rings, one with a butterfly the other with the smallest of hearts with a little pink stone. you turned back to ellie, eyes boring into her own sage green ones. the moon, the stars and even the light snow that had begun falling did everything in their might to tear your eyes from her and yet you just stared. "uhm— it was really nice to meet you, ellie, i hope to see you around more often." noticing the impatient look in your devil like mothers eyes.

"you too, sweetheart." it just came out.

eyes wide from all you, ashley and ellie. belive it or not, but the girl had surprised even herself. with blushing cheeks and secretive eyes you shared the pair one last glance before rushing off. ellie williams did nothing but stare. she stared at the way your hair bounced off your back, the way your dress lifted up as you walked with a pep in your step, attempting to get as close to your mother as fast as humanly possible. she stared. dazed. "dude. what?" ashley practically shoved ellie to get her attention, a confused look on her face as she raised a brow.

"is your sister gay?"

"shut the fuck up."

gay? you? the most religious girl in the whole town? it was a funny assumption, something that ashley could only deem humorous. and while ellie laughed along with the girl, fixing her sleeves with a grin on her face, she couldn't deny the way her eyes drifted back to you, a wide smile etched to your own face, smiling from ear to ear at one of the younger boys who was asking you a question about something religion related. ellie williams hated nothing more than people preaching and preaching about a god she didn't care an ounce for, but for you... for you she thought she may just listen until your dripping words went dry.

that was the night that ellie williams set eyes for y/n l/n and never looked back.

you couldn't deny your own infatuation for the girl yourself. you began to notice the days she came over, how she began to linger in your house, spend dinner with your strange family, how she began to sleep over at least twice a week. you brushed it off for simple admiration, almost envy. you were a girl who was simply caught in the bubble, there you were safe. but something about ellie was so... dangerous, enduring. she lived freely, with a grin in her face wherever she went, she cockily spoke in front of a crowd, one in which she could easily point out your eyes.

she was in another squabble with one of the teachers. it was the male physical education teachers who wore the very same pair of tracksuit end shorts every day. you had merely been a bypasser, books clutched to your chest tightly as you ignored absolutely everything around you. you often tuned yourself out in school, it was the only realistic way to get by. you recited a quote from a book in which you had read that previous night. if you were being honest, you hadn't even noticed the commotion in the hallway, until, that was, a sound of a voice rung out. "y/n." your head snapping towards ellie who had teachers surrounding her, a disappointed look on all their faces, some kids videoed the interactions, others laughed, most kids stopped to see what was going on at least. her greeting had caught you off guard. "how ya doin'?" a grin planted on her lips as she bent her head down at you. your eyes were as wide as saucers as random looks were thrown your way by teenagers you had never even met. it was no secret that y/n l/n was the 'good girl' of the school, how couldn't she be when she spent every day inside a chapel, she was laughable. some kid's brows furrowed and suddenly you could hear everyone whisper your name in confusion to one another. Mr. Lionel, the english teacher and your personal favourite of the school, grasped ellie's arm and attempted to shove her into the classroom they were standing out of. you watched with wide eyes as he slammed the door shut. "you can't legally do that!" you heard the muffled shout of ellie williams who was undoubtedly speaking of the fact the teacher put his hands on her without so much as asking.

you whipped around, ignoring the varying stares and hard gazes, head bound downwards.

but that didn't mean that you were necessarily ashamed to know ellie williams let alone have befriended her, no, you were beyond proud. "you're so cool." you admired in a dazed state.

"aren't I just?" your sister boasted as she showed off her black nails. she glanced over at you, your head resting in your arms that rested on the table, simply watching her in admiration. "you know, you could always come with us." she was meeting with ellie and going to another party. it was a wonder if your parents knew and just decided to ignore it.

your brows raised so high they almost reached your hairline. "me? a party?" giggling as your own sister rolled her eyes with a grin on her face, the idea did sound stupid now that she thought back on it.

"true." pocketing the black nailpolish. "run along i'm sure you have just about everything to do in that shitty little church."

your smile faltered but you fixed it instantly, not wishing to ruin the mood. this was your problem, you were too damn emotional. "tell ellie i said hi." as you stood from the kitchen table, grasping a hold of your small white handbag, you truly did have things to be doing.

"i will." smiling up at you. "see you later, y/n/n." you bid your goodbye then with the tiniest of simpers but as soon as you shut the front door with a small frown etched to your face.

you loved being so involved in your religion, you did, but it was times like this that you truly hated it. you wanted to go out with ellie and ashley. you wanted to make friends, you wanted people not to be scared of getting too close to you seeing as you were just too involved with your religion, you wanted a life that didn't revolve around the church you seemingly always found yourself in.

"you're so fucking stupid!" giggling wildly as she laid her back against the bed, long hair falling down beneath her face.

"you would have done the exact same thing!" ellie defended with an accusing finger being pointed at ashley who was much higher than her.

steam filled the room so much so that ellie could see how condensation was building up on the windows of ashley's bedroom. "i would have ran in the opposite direction, are you kidding me?" flipping over so she was laying on her stomach, laughing at her best friend who was sat with her legs crossed across from her. ellie liked having a best friend that was straight, this way no feelings ever got muddled up. besides, ellie would rant all she pleased about girls and ashley could only do it ten times more about the boys she's been with. then again, it was sad that they'd never get to see the preacher and his wife's face when they said that one of their daughters was gay. they'd often make jokes about how if ellie was a l/n she would have been disowned by now, ellie thanked the moon and stars that joel miller couldn't care less about jesus. the sound of a door opening from downstairs caused the girls to freeze. "shit!"

"ashley!" ellie complained as they both jumped up, slamming the windows open and doing everything in their will to get the goddamn smell out. "you said they had church duty until eight." if mr or mrs. l/n found ashley and ellie smoking weed in their house, there was absolutely no telling how bad this would go.

"they do!" she argued, pulling her sleeve down her arm so she could wipe away the condensation from the window. ellie pushed imaginary air out the window as if it were doing anything. they were still much too high for any of this. it was what hotboxing did to you. filling the room with smoke so you could get even more high, now thinking about it, it was sort of a stupid idea. the sound of footsteps growing nearer caused the girl's heart rate to speed up by a thousand. "shit, shit, shit."

the door knob twisted and ellie and ashley plopped onto the bed, ashley with the joint behind her back. "ash, do you ha-" you stopped mid sentence, mid opening the door, mid walking right in. your face cringed. "what's that smell?" not bothering to ask your sister before picking up her can of vanilla air freshener in which you had gifted her after stating her room had smelled as though she let a skunk inside a couple of weeks ago.

the girls sighed, deflating in relaxation as ashley pulled the joint out from behind her back. "weed." taking a drag of it to ease her previous nerves.

"oh." you tilted your head, watching the two girls sitting on the bed. ashley passed the joint to ellie who instantly took a drag. their hair was dishevelled and tousled, both their hoodies discarded and eyes red as ever, pupils blown large. "is that why you look like you're crying?" ashley nodded. "oh."

ellie took a long drag from the joint, looking your frame up and down. you were dressed in a summers dress, her favourite, it was white with little lilac flowers littered around the fabric, a woollen purple cardigan hanging over your frame too. her eyes moved down to your thighs, you seemed to notice and did something that made ellie almost groan. you squeezed them together, clearing your throat. instead, she smirked, poor baby, you didn't even know what was wrong. ellie knew the feeling well, it was the same feeling that left her in her bedroom on many nights with her hand between her legs, the image of you caught in her mind.

"thought you were at church with mom and dad." the church had a thousand events for the community a week and you were always there but this time, you shook your head.

"me, ruth and maxine went to the movies." you moved so you could open up your sisters wardrobe, she made no attempt to argue.

"ruth and maxine? those girls you were talking to in school?" you nodded, picking at her unfolded clothes. ruth and maxine were two known lesbians, it was a wonder how your parents let you hang out with them, there was only one solution to the question, they didn't know.

"whatcha lookin' for, sweetheart?" passing the joint to ashley. the girl was used to ellie's nicknames for you, she learned to tune herself out. ellie leaned forward, elbows to her knees to crane her neck in attempts to glance into the wardrobe. half the clothing were her own, she may be some use, she may not.

your cheeks reddened at the petname. "ash took my yellow shirt." sending a playful glare towards her sister who simply blew smoke out, rolling her eyes. ellie assumed it was the one you adored more than anything, tight short sleeved light yellow and always clinging to your body. yeah, ellie couldn't forget something that looked that good on you.

"i know how you feel, ashley's always stealing my clothes too." an accusing glare being sent her way.

ashley threw her hands in the air. "why are we hating on me right now?" ellie sent you a glance with brows raised that had a small giggle falling from your lips. "and y/n/n i'm pretty sure i left it at sofia's house." you turned to give her an unamused look. "i'll get it back, promise."

you nodded and began picking up the few articles of clothing you had left drop. you folded them before adding them on top because unlike your sister, you wanted her room to be clean. you picked up one of the larger shirts and flipped it around. "this is so cool!" it was a dark grey shirt that looked much too big to fit you and had a skeleton design to make it look as though someone was looking inside your chest and stomach.

ellie turned her head up to look at it. "oh, that's mine." she stated, realising that it was her shirt that she had left too many sleepovers ago. she bit down on her bottom lip watching the way you seemed in awe of her clothing. "you can have it."

your eyes went wide, biting down on your bottom lip. "oh, no i can't take it." suddenly feeling a little embarrassed, you didn't wish to steal her clothing.

"no, seriously, ashley takes my clothes all the time." again, ashley rolled her eyes. "seriously, i don't wear it anymore." truth be told, she couldn't remember the last time she had even seen that shirt.

"are— are you sure?" you mumbled behind the fabric. you really did like the shirt.

ellie didn't stay over that night, joel had stated that he wanted another movie night and who was she to refuse? however, she did decide that the next night would certainly be spent at the l/n household. joel approved, somewhat. he had met ashley a too many times to count and he truly did like her, he thought that she and ashley were very alike and he liked that. he didn't care for the l/n family, not the mother and father at least, he had heard many stories of what they were like from ashley and that was certainly enough to keep him away. however, on the times that he went to gatherings or even mass like on christmas, when he felt obliged to, he saw you, y/n l/n and every time he questioned ellie why she didn't bring you over to the house. she always stated that you guys simply 'weren't like that' but your excited grin and wave when she entered the church spoke something else.

she brought her hand up to the white door, knocking softly while kicking around dust with her shoe. she always covered her tattoo at your house, it was one thing to get a tattoo at sixteen in front of joe miller who really couldn't care less but even at her age now, she wouldn't be caught dead showing it to your parents, she knew how much they disliked her already.

the door swung open to reveal a distressed looking ashley. "oh, thank god you're here." practically pulling ellie in the door, she made a noise of complaint at the abruptness. "this house is officially fucking scaring me."

ellie bent down slightly to her friend. "what's going on?" whispering, seeing as she had noticed how ashley had done the same.

"mom and dad have finally lost it, that's what going on." she stopped ellie in front of the stairs, where they could barely peek into the living room where the whole scene was unfolding.

"but that's not fair!" you were sat on the couch, your parents standing tall in front of you, intimidating you. your eyes rung red, lashes wet and cheeks tear stained. "t-they're my friends!" blubbering out through your feeble cries. ellie's brows furrowed and her eyes softened at the sight of you so upset. you were a bubbly girl, always obliging to everything and here you were feebly trying to defend whatever you were working against, it seemed to be failing tremendously.

"you have never spoken back to us like this." your father stated in a disappointed tone that made your gut twist. "whether you can see it or not, these 'friends' are changing you. they're a bad influence!" you scoffed, turning your face away from them as you roughly wiped your tear stained cheeks. you felt pathetic, crying in front of them and for something so utterly stupid. ellie watched with a sad frown etched to her face watching as you sunk into the couch, you looked so... small.

"don't give us that attitude!" your mother yelled upon seeing you scoff.

you gave them desperate, pleading eyes. "i didn't say anything." voice breaking as if you finally began to give up, you always did with your parents.

"do you know how much your father does for you?" your mother was not as tall as your father but certainly just as scary. "and for you to throw it away like that! do you know what would have happened if someone saw you there?!" she was getting in your face, much too close for a parent.

ashley tugged on ellie's arm, leading her up the stairs while ellie's eyes stayed strained on you until you were finally out of view. "they were driving through town today." ellie nodded, listening to every word hanging from ashley's lips. "and they ran into y/n with her new friends, ruth and maxine."

ellie's brows furrowed in confusion. "i thought your parents were okay with them."

"yeah they were." she opened the door to her bedroom. "until they found out they were gay." ellie's look went cold. they didn't know she herself was gay but that didn't matter because ashley had tarnished the name already, they wouldn't care if she was friends with ellie, it was simply the fact that it was y/n l/n their precious bead and they simply couldn't afford another 'screw up'.

ellie bit down on her bottom lip, cracking her knuckles. "what fucking tools." her brows were tied together, a burning feeling buried inside her chest. "should we say something?" as if your parents would ever hear the girl out.

ashley simply shook her head. "would just make it worse. for us and for her." ellie nodded her head despite the way she bit down on her bottom lip, taking a seat on the bed. "look, don't worry about it, ellie." she took a seat next to her friend. "the worst they can do is kick her into the bedroom and make her pray herself to sleep." a small chuckle falling from her lips, she knew her sister and her parents well, yes, they were hard on her but they'd never do anything to hurt her. "she'll be okay." ellie nodded once more, sitting herself back on the pillows and flicking through the dvd's in which ashley had left out on the bed, ready to pick one. it seemed as though the girl was contemplating something but ellie paid no mind. maybe she should have, she may have been able to prevent the next words that tumbled from her lips. "seriously though, ellie, you gotta get over this crush." ellie's hands froze.

with wide eyes, she looked up at her best friend. "what? i don't—"

ashley cut her off. "ellie, i know." and the simple sentence was enough to send ellie's thoughts into a spiral. "and it's okay it's just—you saw how my mom and dad were because she had gay friends... and you know y/n doesn't like to upset daddy dearest."

the older girl sighed, defeated. "are you mad?"

ashley almost laughed. "mad?" grinning as she shook her head. "on the contrary, i'm rooting for you."

that night ellie didn't sleep much, worry-filled thoughts swarming her mind. it was rare that ellie williams found herself awake, nevermind at the l/n house at this kind of hour. she couldn't help it, the way her mind so easily floated back to you. the way your teary eyes gazed up at your parents, she felt so bad. guilt consumed her and yet she had nothing to feel guilty for. she wondered how a little lust that day she had met you in the church, looking pretty in a red dress had gotten her here, losing sleep over wondering if you were okay. you were the family favourite, you did everything right and it was for them. ellie couldn't shake the thought of your pretty eyes filled with tears or the way your lips turned darker due to the crying, red raw from the way you had gnawed on it so hard, attempting to block out your own parents voices. ellie couldn't remember when the shouting stopped that night but ashley did everything she could to block it out, playing music, talking extra loud, even going as far as laughing madly at one of ellie's jokes that wasn't even funny. ashley was your sister, certainly she felt some sort of sympathy for you. and she did, for she knew that when these things happened she couldn't intervene, she had before and it was safe to say that things didn't end well for either of you. so she blocked the majority of everything out. ellie sighed and sat up in the double king sized bed. she looked down at ashley. "ashley. ash." pushing her frame around to wake her, all she got was a groan and a swat on the hand. ashley turned around, plopping herself back on the bed and snoring rather loudly, ellie fought very hard not to roll her eyes to the back of her head. there was simply no way she was getting any sleep yet, so she took it upon herself to get out of the bed, there was no luck by staring up at the ceiling and drowning in her own thought consuming mind.

she turned and hung her feet off the side of the bed, pulling on her grey socks so her feet could hit the floor calmly.

ellie scratched at the back of her neck as she walked down the stairs as quietly as humanly possible. she needed some water, then she'd go back to bed, she promised herself that much after all it would be her that was shook awake before nine in the morning.

stepping into the kitchen, the girl momentarily froze at the sight of you, sipping on water as you leaned against the counter. you too froze, eyes blown wide. when did ellie get here? had she been listening the whole time? suddenly, you went red with embarrassment at the thought of ellie listening to you fight with your parents, crying and yelling. "ellie— hi."

"hey, baby." you ignored the way your stomach twisted and your heart jumped not one but two paces. ellie ignored the way her own did the very same as she saw you dressed in her, now your, shirt with only the smallest of baby pink shorts to accompany it, so small that ellie wouldn't have noticed it if not for the obvious contrast in colors between it and the shirt. "can't sleep?" you shook your head, sipping on the glass of water while ellie got her own, filling it from the faucet. you ignored the silence aside from water splashing into the clear cup, ellie ignored the way her eyes flickered towards your pretty silver cross still sitting idly on your chest. ellie knew she shouldn't ask but surprise surprise her lips parted anyway. "ashley told me why you were fighting." you bit down on your bottom lip. "you okay?"

"yeah, i just—" you could feel yourself getting emotional again already. god, y/n, pull yourself together. "i don't know how to tell ruth and maxine that i'm not allowed to talk to them anymore." looking down at your white socks.

"you're not allowed to talk to them at all?" shaking your head, you shuffled your feet around. "because they're gay?" you looked up in slight shock by how easily the word came out in such a casual tone. you weren't even permitted to whisper the word as it was.

clearing your throat, you shook away your slight shock. "yeah and—and i think it's stupid." furrowing your brows together. ellie hadn't heard you state your opinion loud enough before, or at all really, you went along with everything your parents said as to not upset them, doing the very same with your sister, she listened silently. "because they can have their own beliefs, i don't care it's just—they're my friends. and i don't care that they're gay because it doesn't change anything. and i liked having gay friends because they..." they understood you. you stopped mid sentence, eyes wide at what you were almost ready to admit. your eyes snapped towards ellie who was watching you, her glass of water now abandoned on the counter as she waited patiently for you to finish your sentence. "I'm sorry, i don't know why i said all that." suddenly you wished you were inside your bedroom, being sucked into your bed sheets, yeah, that sounded pretty nice right about now. "i'm sorry, i have to go to bed."

and you tried to escape and almost did if it weren't for the hand that instantly caught your arm. you could see ellie's tattoo now that she was in a tank top, her hand was much larger than your arm, it bound around it easily. "they what?" her eyes pleaded for you to continue.

"ellie..." your eyes moved to the top of her hair, she was so much taller than you, they gazed into her own jade pair of irises, then they moved across her flush cheeks dusted with freckles, along the slope of her nose and finally, they rested on her pink lips. "you know." she did, she always did.

"spell it out for me, angel." you took a step back, she took a step forward, you remembered hitting your back against the counter, stumping you from moving at all.

"you— you can't call me those names anymore, ellie." mumbling as your eyes never stopped their light tracing against her lips.

"why?" whisper so gentle that you almost didn't hear her but you could, very clearly when she was so close, lips so close.

"ellie." almost a warning. "I can't." her face was getting closer, yours was growing hotter, pink dusted your cheeks and your lips almost chased her face. you had never kissed anyone before. that was what she was trying to do wasn't it?

"you can't?" dipping her head down so her face met yours. she didn't stop there. "or you won't?" as her hot breath hit your neck, you sucked in a breath.

"i— i think you should go." but you didn't want her to go, you really didn't want her to go.

"you wan't me here?" as a wet kiss came down to the skin of your neck, you gasped out, blinking. this was a dream, it had to be. you felt almost euphoric as her lips flattened against the crook of your neck, the way they kissed you so delicately as if you were made of glass. she moved her head back up almost instantly, as if her own actions weren't affecting her. her lips brushed against your own, so closely that you could taste her. "or here?"

you weren't proud of what you did next.

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