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barefoot-joker · 2 months

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Snake in the Garden Pt 4~ Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! Welcome to Snake in the Garden Part 4! In this chapter we meet a few new characters, so I hope I got their personalities right. I do hope you all like the new chapter as I had a lot of fun writing it. As always, enjoy and I hope you have a great day/night!

Words: 2395

Warnings: Swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

I heaved as I ran through the streets of Hell. I couldn’t get enough air to my lungs and my legs were growing weary of the journey. However, I kept my eyes on the marquee and just kept going. You’re almost there, Y/n! Come on! Soon you’ll be free!

I didn’t take the time to look at the demons surrounding me but my ears caught all of the screams, moans and conversations as I passed. A couple of times I was grabbed at, but I just shoved them away and continued my trek. When I reached the gate of the hotel I stopped to catch a breather, my hand grasping the iron bars to steady myself. I looked back from where I came, the palace a tiny speck in the distance. I wanted to pat myself on the back but I knew I wasn’t in the clear. Until I was back home Lucifer could rear his head at any moment. Speaking of the Devil, I wondered how long it would be till he noticed I was gone.

Taking in a few more breaths, I walked up the cobblestoned hill to the front door. The marquee shone a bright red and I felt like I was bathed in blood. Stopping at the front door, I marveled at how intricate it was. The stained glass formed a circus tent pattern and the rim held a golden tint to it. Bringing my hand up, I knocked on the glass, a knot forming in my stomach. What if all this work was for nothing? Would the Princess even listen to my case?

I didn’t have much time to think when the door opened. In front of me stood a tall, lean man dressed all in red. Among his red and black hair, black deer antlers stood and what I assumed to be his ears straightened in surprise. His red eyes felt different compared to Lucifer’s, his feeling more sinister. His grin seemed to grow wider as he looked me up and down. “Hello, my dear. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. I’m Alastor, the hotel’s facility manager. How can I be of-”

I rushed past him and slammed the door shut, my nails digging into the golden wood. “-service to you?”

I spun around to face him, my eyes blown wide in panic. “I need to speak to Charlie! Please, it’s an emergency!”

I clasped my hands tight in prayer and tried to make myself look as vulnerable as possible. “Charlie isn’t here at the moment, I’m afraid. She’s out on some business with Vaggie. The two of them should be back soon though.”

I groaned and hung my head in despair. How long will she be gone?

I lifted my head back up and let out a slight shriek at how close the deer man was. He was practically on top of me, our noses almost touching. “Though I could speed along the process if I was told what constitutes an emergency.”

I hadn’t noticed it before but as the man spoke his voice held a static to it, almost like an old radio. “Listen, Alastor was it? I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with you.”

“Hmm. I guess you’ll just have to wait then. Husker, make this sinner feel at home.”

I looked to the left and saw a bar that looked way too out of place. Blue boards made up the walls and floor while the dark oak bar top sat in the middle. The cat demon, Husker, looked up from drying a glass and sighed. Alastor wrapped his arm around my shoulder and dragged me over to the bar, shoving me at a stool. I sat on top of it and gulped as the radio man kept eyeing me from his post nearby. “What’ll you be havin’?”

“Oh, um, a water is fine.”

“Not much of a drinker, eh?”

“No. Besides, I don’t really drink around strangers.”

Husker shrugged and turned his back to me. When he returned to my side, he placed a rocks glass in front of me on the bar top. I grabbed it and sipped my water. “So, I couldn’t help but overhear you’re in an emergency. Got some loan sharks after you or somethin’?”

“Oh no, much worse. It’s a long story.”

“I’ve heard my fair share of long stories as a bartender.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable sharing. I’d much rather wait for Charlie.”

“I can respect that. Hell is a rough place and if you’re not careful it can swallow you whole. I learned that the hard way.”

He sighed and continued to dry glasses. As I sipped my drink, I glanced over to see Alastor still staring at me. That maniacal grin never leaving his face and his eyes cool and calculating. “So um, what’s Alastor’s deal? Why does he keep staring at me like I’m fresh meat at the butchers?”

“He’s always like that, scoping out the new guests. But a word of advice, don’t make a deal with him whatever you do. You think your life is horrible now, you got another thing comin’ with him.”

“I see.”

Suddenly I felt something grazing my ankles. I peered down to see a very short woman with a red bob, a stripe of yellow hair in front of her one giant pink eye. My eyes widened upon seeing the silver blade in her hands. The female looked up and a giant grin spread across her thin lips. “You're not meant to be down here, are you?”

“Huh?”

“You smell…human. Sinners have a certain scent and you don’t have it. We’ve got a live one, guys!”

She hopped into my lap and grabbed the top of the nightgown. I gulped at how the knife was slightly pointed at my throat. “You’re pretty for a live one, not that I’ve seen many like you before.”

“T-thanks?”

“How rude of me! I’m Niffty! I clean.”

She shook me back and forth. “A live one, hmm?”

Suddenly I felt a hand tighten on my shoulder. I looked back to see Alastor, the end of his smile reaching well past his eyes. “You didn’t quite introduce yourself to us, did you, my dear?”

“Leave her alone, Alastor!”

“Tsk, tsk, Husker. I just want to know what I should call our newest arrival.”

“I, I, I-”

I stopped when I heard the front door open, two voices chatting as they came inside. I had never been more thankful for a door to open. “Oh, hey guys! What’s going on,” The tall blonde asked.

She looked so similar to Lucifer so she must be Charlie. “We’ve got a live one, Charlie! And to think she was trying to hide,” Nifty replied.

The Princess turned her red gaze to me and I quickly threw off the deer and housekeeper. I got down on my knees and looked up at the blonde. “Please Charlie, you have to help me! Your dad is fucking crazy-”

“Oh you must be Y/n!”

My heart dropped. No. No, no, no, no. How much does she already know?

Lucifer’s daughter scooped me up to my height and pet me on the head. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you! My dad has sent me several pictures but you look much prettier in real life. But what are you doing all the way out here? Shouldn’t you be planning a wedding?”

“That’s my problem! I don’t want to be here! Please, you’ve got to help! I’m begging you!”

I could feel tears come to my eyes as I pleaded my case. Charlie’s eyes softened and she placed her hands on my shoulders. “Here, let’s take a walk. Vaggie, can you put our shopping away?”

“Of course, honey.”

“Come on.”

The blonde took me by the shoulders and led me up the grand staircase. We went up a few floors before stopping in a room that resembled a library. Charlie ushered me to sit in one of the leather armchairs and then she followed my lead. “So tell me everything. I’m sure my dad left out a few key details.”

I did. I told her how the two of us had met up until I had been forced to say yes to marrying him. While I told my tale, she didn’t say anything. She just hummed at key parts. “So can you help me?”

“I want to, I really do. However, my dad-”

“Fucking kidnapped me, Charlie! Do you really want me to go back to that?!”

She opened her mouth to say something when suddenly her phone rang. She pulled it out of her red suit jacket and her eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s my dad.”

“Shit! I’m not here!”

“But…”

“You see the good in others don’t you, Charlie? Can’t you see the good in you helping me?”

She bit her lip before sighing. She clicked the answer button and held the phone to her ear. “Hey, dad. What’s up?”

Lucifer didn’t even need to be on speaker as I could hear him shouting from the phone. “Charlie dear, thank goodness you picked up! Look, I’m in serious trouble and need your assistance.”

“What can I do for you?”

“My darling bride Y/n is gone! Vanished! I left her to her own devices and when I came back she’s left me! I thought someone took her but then I found this rope hanging out the bathroom window and have you seen her? I don’t know how long she’s been gone for and I don’t want her out and about by herself. Hell’s too dangerous!”

Charlie and I made eye contact and I begged her to not give me up. Her grip tightened around her phone and I could see the battle going on in her head.

“Sorry dad, I haven’t seen her. I’ll keep an eye out though.”

“If you do find her please make sure she’s unharmed. I want my dear apple to be in one piece after all.”

“You’ve got it. But, hey, I’ve got to go. Vaggie’s calling me. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, thank you sweetie.”

“You’re welcome. Love you. Bye.”

She disconnected the call. I let out the breath I was holding. She did it. She actually was going to help me!

“Okay, I know somebody who can get you back to Earth. But we’d better hurry. My dad sounds like he’s getting close.”

“Thank you so much, Charlie! I really do appreciate it!”

“Hurry now!”

She summoned a dark trenchcoat and fedora from thin air. I quickly put them on and out the front door we went. Our walk felt just as long as when I had run to the hotel, but this time demons didn’t seem to bother us. It was probably because the Princess of Hell was with me. We continued walking until we stopped at a very large mansion. Out front was a cobblestone drive and a fountain spraying water. Charlie and I walked up to the double set of dark blue doors and she knocked. They opened to reveal an imp butler, a small white mustache hiding his lips. “Hello, Princess! What can we do for you?”

“I need to speak with Stolas. It’s urgent, Pringles!”

“Follow me.”

We strutted inside and the little butler led us to a study. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you, Pringles.”

“Of course, Princess.”

The door shut behind him. The study was quite large with several bookcases housing thousands of novels near the walls. A desk with a tall, navy and gold chair sat behind a dark oak desk. The place seemed very fitting for a Prince. As we waited I found myself playing with my engagement ring. I willed myself to stop but my fingers kept rubbing it. Don’t get cold feet now, Y/n. You’re almost home free.

I heard the navy blue door open and I turned to see a very tall, skinny owl man. He wore a dark red jumpsuit with a wine red cape draped on his shoulders. White and black feathers made up the collar and they mingled with his own gray feathers. A smile found its way to his beak when he spotted us. “Charlie! It’s so good to see you, my dear!”

The two hugged and when he pulled away, he looked at me with his four red eyes. “Who might this be? A friend of yours?”

“Stolas, this is Y/n. My dad captured her and brought her down to Hell. We need to send her home to Earth.”

“Ah, so this is the infamous Y/n I’ve heard about. It’s a pleasure to be meeting you.”

He bowed. How many people has Lucifer told about me?

“But why would you want to go back to Earth? You’re getting married in a few months.”

“Because I don’t belong here! I was fucking kidnapped and am becoming a bride against my will! Please Mr Stolas, let me go home!”

“Have you and Lucifer made a contract together?”

“Huh?”

“I mean have you signed anything that he has given you?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

He bowed his head. “Then I can help. Just let me get my Grimoire.”

He held up his hand and a blue and gold book came flying towards him. The book looked heavy as it floated in the air but the owl Prince paid it no mind. He flipped through each of the pages until he landed on one. “Y/n, if I do this for you I cannot guarantee your safety. I know Lucifer. He’ll be looking for you until you’re in his grasp again.”

“That’s fine. As long as I can go back.”

“Very well.”

He chanted out a spell and before I knew it a purple portal materialized before my very eyes. “Go quickly now. I can’t hold this open for long.”

“Thank you, both of you. I appreciate it!”

“Go!”

I walked through and not a minute later the portal closed behind me. I looked around and smiled. I was back in my house in the hallway. I laughed triumphantly and threw off my disguise, making my way to the living room. I stopped when I heard the crunching of what sounded like…chips? I looked over to my couch and I felt my eyes widen.

“There you are! It took you long enough!”

~~~~~~~~

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msbigredmachine · 4 months

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Santa Daddy - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

All the Tribal Chief wants for Christmas is you.

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x OC

Word Count: 3.7k words

A/N: Sorry I brought this in so late, I got sick. Better late than never though! Enjoy!

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It was Christmas morning. Your face was a picture of utmost focus as you wiped away the hair stuck to your forehead. It was a mini madness in your open layout kitchen, but at least it was your controlled chaos. In a few hours' time, a select mix of friends, co-workers and family members would converge at your place for a Christmas sleepover for the ages, to mark your first holidays as Roman Reigns' fiancée.

What a crazy eighteen months it has been for you. If anyone told you that within that timeframe, you would escape from your abusive boyfriend, move states, find a new job and a new place to live, you would have laughed in their face.

And Lord knows how you'd have reacted if they added that you'd be dating a professional wrestler in that same timeframe. And not just any wrestler, but the marquee name, the number one guy in WWE. But here you were. In the house you lived in together. Diamond ring on your finger. Prepping dinner and being quite giddy about it too. It had been a long time since you were giddy about anything, but that changed after you said yes to a coffee date with Roman a lifetime ago, it felt like now.

The honey-glazed chicken, roasted potatoes and gravy were ready, as were the salads and greens. Your centerpiece was undoubtedly the smoky Nigerian jollof rice you couldn't wait for everyone to taste. The chocolate was fragrant as it melted in the pot and the sweet crème caramel was setting nicely. You really wanted everything to go smoothly today. Dinner first, after which everyone would gather in the den for gift swaps, karaoke, play some raunchy adult games, then go to bed whenever they liked before leaving in the morning for their drives home. It was the perfect itinerary and you planned to make sure it was.

You were whisking the chocolate sauce on the stove when the shuffling of a familiar pair of size fifteens invaded your ears. Your heart pounded a little harder anfd your brown eyes lit up as he walked into the kitchen, drinking him in with your heart-shaped mouth curving into a smile. It was incredible how he gave off the exact same aura and energy as his grand entrances to the ring with just entering a small room. It was intimidating in the sexiest way.

"I see someone found one of their gifts." Your voice was soft and sweet - a tone you used only for him - with the gentle tinge of a tease. Your man looked so good in his red Christmas-themed pajama set that matched yours, which he complemented with a Santa hat covering the top of his head.

Roman came to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your neck. "You look amazing in yours," he told you. Taking a deep breath, he welcomed your fragrance deep into his lungs. Your scent reminded him of hot chocolate on a cold winter's day and the roaring fireplace several feet away in the living room. It reminded him of home. You were home.

"Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife-to-be. I love you." His voice was a low, tender rumble in your ear, and you shivered slightly as his hands massaged your waist, his warm breath caressing the sensitive nape of your neck.

"I love you too, Daddy. Merry Christmas," you greeted back, absorbing the aura, the love and affection radiating from him like a bright light. Gosh, how did you get so lucky, winding up with this incredibly handsome, sweet, gentle giant of a man as a life partner?

"It smells so good in here, babe," Roman complimented, dipping his finger in the gravy boat for a taste. "I wish you woke me up to help out," he added sheepishly.

You shook your head immediately. "Don't worry about it. You needed your rest from all the traveling you've been doing."

"What time do the festivities start again?"

You turned off the stove to temp the chocolate down and turned to him. "Not till like, three."

"Hmm, and it's only nine-thirty now. That's a whole lotta time to ourselves," he pointed out, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he tugged at the waistband of your pajama pants. "I know I got a lot of presents, but Daddy wants to open this one first. Can I?" he asked with a syrupy sweet voice that promised something much more carnal.

"That depends on if you were naughty or nice this year," you replied.

The dramatic pout that came with his puppy dog eyes was so cute. "I promise I've been a good boy."

You arched a manicured brow at him. "You sure? Not even the tiniest bit bad?"

Roman puffed out his chest and grinned proudly. "I'm positive. I made my woman very happy this year. That counts as good, right?"

The glittering rock on your finger answered that question. "Definitely," you agreed.

"Exactly. By the way, look up."

You followed his pointed finger. A sprig of mistletoe dangled from the cabinet right above you. You met your fiancé's stormy stare, and your pussy purred from the mischief and lust you saw in them. You licked your lips with anticipation, knowing full well he was going to have his way with you, like he always did. Like you always wanted him to.

"C'mere." He guided your face to his own with his hand on the back of your neck. Your hands clutched his broad shoulders as your lips melded together in a soft, passionate dance. You stood in the kitchen for what felt like hours, worshiping each other's mouths, the smacking of your lips and hushed sighs mingling with the soft Christmas ballad playing through Alexa.

As you kissed, Roman couldn't help but get turned on. He let his hands slip down into the back of your pants and over your backside, molding your bare ass cheeks in his palms while you pressed yourself against him. You continued the increasingly intense makeout session, neither of you seeming to be in any hurry to stop.

"Santa Daddy thinks you've been a good girl this year," he murmured against your lips, "so good that you deserve a special present."

"Mmm, I love presents, Santa Daddy," you replied, allowing him to pick you up and place you on the countertop. He stepped into the space between your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, while your arms curled around his shoulders as you dove into the kiss. He caressed your mouth with his luscious tongue in a way that made your knees weak. Your hands and his moved in unison, pulling off each other's clothes until you were both completely nude. The second your top was off, his fingers teased your nipples, which instantly pebbled at his touch. His broad chest was hard and warm against your palms, and you scratched your nails along his ribs just to hear him hiss in a breath right before his mouth latched onto your throat. You whimpered and gripped his hair. God, his mouth and tongue felt so good on your skin. He nibbled and sucked on you while massaging your right breast, and you felt the pit of stomach heat up with the rabid need for your pussy to be filled. The moisture pooling between your thighs could probably fill a lake.

With your eyes closed as you savored the sensations, you never quite saw him take the pot of chocolate, dip the whisk in it and wave it over your nipples. The chocolate that dripped onto your skin seared with heat, but his tongue was there to quickly lick it away before the pain registered as anything more than a turn-on.

"Mmm, that's tasty," he commented.

You watched him and his lethal mouth like a hawk. "You like that, Daddy?" you inquired, resting back on your elbows.

"Oh, I do." He drizzled more chocolate over your breasts. Your mind swam as he took his time sucking each soft flesh, activating your erogenous pressure point. He then dipped his finger in the warm chocolate then made a long trail down your lower belly. He licked that away, then used two fingers to paint your entire pussy with the hot chocolate, his face a mask of concentration as he worked on his masterpiece. Your body jerked and you sucked in a breath at the fire that raged between your legs. Then his tongue was down there, splitting your soft folds apart to delve into your sweetened essence.

Yanking the Santa hat off his head, your fingers threaded through his messy ponytail, pulling his face flush against you, writhing against him and begging for more. "Unnnh, babe, that feels so good," you groaned, your brain growing fuzzy as he French-kissed your pussy, pleasure licking at you with the same devastating impact as his tongue. "Fuck, baby, I love you!"

"I know," Roman moaned back, pushing your thighs further apart. "Spread your legs, baby...wider," he instructed you, his burly arms winding around your thighs and yanking you closer to him. "Mmm, perfect. Imma eat you off this counter, girl."

And he was. With gusto. Desperate for release, you tried to squirm but he had you pinned down to the kitchen island, keeping you still. You were panting hard as the tension coiled tighter in your belly. You were almost there, just a step away from that cliff, when he nuzzled his face against your wet pussy and flicked your hard little clit with his thumb. The pressure sent you over the edge and you moaned through the orgasm, your back arching against the cool surface of the counter. Your string of moans was an aphrodisiac to Roman, and he kept up his tender licking and sucking until your legs fell from his shoulders and you gave a shuddering sigh.

"Jesus," you whispered.

Roman resembled a kid in a candy store with his beard stained with cum and chocolate, eyes bright and lust-filled. He looked up, licked his lips with a smug smile and said, "Nothing tastes as good as you, baby," he praised, and your ego swelled. He always knew the right things to say to make you feel good. Twining your fingers in his, he pulled you upright and kissed your lips, sharing your tangy sweetness with you.

"Your turn," you announced, and slid carefully off the counter, pushing him to sit on one of the stools. You moved to take the pot of chocolate, but the three mason jars filled with homemade caramel sauce caught your eye. A devious little idea popped up in your head. Grabbing one, you unscrewed the cover, licking the sauce around the rim before grabbing Roman's dick with one hand, bringing the jar up to his plum-shaped tip.

"Fuck, girl," Roman shivered, his eyes wide when you dunked his dick right inside the jar. Your eyes shone excitedly as you pulled him back out, the thick, succulent syrup dripping down his pipe and around the rim of your hand.

"Mmm, look at all this sweetness on your dick, Daddy," you moaned, bending at the waist to capture his cock between your lips, your husky sigh vibrating against his sensitive skin. Roman moaned softly as you angled your bobbing head, sliding his dick further down your throat with the same rhythm as your hand stroking him, the sensations leaving him boneless.

"Shiiiit, just like that, baby, eat up my dick like a good girl, how's it taste, huh?" he managed to ask.

"Good," you hummed, working your tongue from the tip of his dick down to the veiny underside of his shaft, causing his breathing to grow labored as his cock throbbed in your hand.

"Oh my god, your tongue, dem juicy lips," Roman clutched your hair, watching you intensely. "Keep suckin' my dick, baby, show me what that mouth do."

Wordlessly, you drew his cock deeper into your mouth with a deep breath and started sucking him with only your jaw doing all of the work. His dick was more than sizable, but was no match for your mouth. Daddy had trained you well to handle all of that fat dick with your mouth and pussy. You paused to scoop more caramel sauce with his dick like a spoon, licking off every drop off his shaft with lavish swipes of your tongue.

"Put some on my balls," Roman instructed.

He held his dick up and out of the way while you rubbed a mix of chocolate and caramel all over his balls. As you sucked on them, Roman slowly massaged his dick, occasionally slapping your face with it. The visual of your arched back mesmerized him, the deliberate twerking of your plump ass cheeks as you pleasured him short-circuited his brain. Even hotter was the sight of his balls hidden in your mouth and the sauce mixture smeared on your chin. The contrast of the dark substance on your brown skin was so fucking sexy.

"That's it, baby, that's it...shit!" The Tribal Chief's deep voice was a strangled gasp, his breaths becoming even shallower as you popped his balls out to recapture his dick. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, lost in toe-curling pleasure as you lodged him in the back of your throat, your warm mouth swallowing around the base of his shaft like a suction. It was his turn to fidget in place, his fingers digging into your scalp as ecstasy loomed ever closer. "Baby I'm gon' come," he whined.

You moaned at his warning, the vibrations shuddering around his length. Your eyes locked with his as he started to fall apart. With a loud groan, he held your head still and gasped helplessly with each spurt of his cum gushing down your throat, his hips bucking from the force of his release. His eyes squeezed shut as he felt you swallow, drinking your fill, your tongue lapping up whatever you spilled. You pulled him out and gulped air back into your lungs, then glanced back up at him with those mischievous pretty eyes, pursing your pouty lips against his blunt head and making his cock twitch in your grasp.

"How the fuck am I still hard?" he half-laughed, half-choked, earning a proud grin from you.

"I got that magic mouth, baby," you declared haughtily, twisting your hand around him in gentle soothing strokes, "And you got this magic dick. You gonna put it on me, Santa Daddy? I know you want to."

"Damn right." He got off the chair and spun you around, bending you over the kitchen table. The tabletop remained cold against your bare, chocolate-streaked skin, and you shivered in response. It was only seconds before he guided your hands to grip the edges of the table in front of you. You moaned softly as he nudged your legs wider apart, hiking your ass slightly higher to press himself up against you.

"Ay, Alexa, turn that shit off, I wanna hear my girl scream for me," he growled at the air, and you burst out laughing when the kitchen fell into an abrupt silence.

His hard dick throbbed between your ass cheeks. He ran the thick head up and down the slit of your pussy lips. When he pushed the first few inches in, you whined pitifully. Your velvety womanhood pulled him in, eking a groan from the Tribal Chief as his big hands roamed your back and ass. His thrusts were slow at first, savoring the feel of your tight, wet pussy tugging at him with each languid stroke. You responded by bucking up against him, luring him even deeper into your body. You moaned together in mutual pleasure.

"God, so tight, so wet...bomb ass pussy," he grunted, smacking your ass and squeezing on the soft juicy flesh, knowing it would make you that much wetter as he stretched you open with that good dick. Your keening moans were nothing but fuel for him; he knew you loved it when he fucked you deep and hard and a little rough, ticking all your little sexual boxes that no one but him knew about. His rhythm was steady yet heavy, keeping you on edge with deep strokes right up on your g-spot. Leaning over you, he swept your hair out of your face to kiss your cheek, a hushed moan slipping from his throat when you squirmed against him, pressing your ass closer to his hips every time he pushed into you.

With the table pressing into your belly and his body trapping you against it, you felt his dick swell inside you, girthier and harder with every thrust. Your body was so sensitized from your previous orgasm that you felt another one build in record time. You wanted your second nut so bad, and you rolled your ass against him, hoping to put enough pressure on your clit to bring it on.

"Unnh yeah, throw that sexy ass back at me," Roman grunted with another hard smack to your ass which jiggled from the impact of his big hand. Said hand then made its way into your hair, the other gripping your waist as he grinded against you and you against him. He loved it; loved you, loved the feel of your bodies moving together, your juices dripping all over his dick, loved the fact that you couldn't seem to control the noises you were making as the kitchen echoed with the erotic sound of them.

"Oh, baby, I'm fuckin' close," you whimpered through your moans.

"How close?" he asked, his lips brushing soft kisses between your shoulder blades and trailing them down your back. His warm breath and his soft beard tickled your skin, and too aroused to answer, you merely whimpered again and bounced your ass more impatiently on his dick. The tension was there in your belly, swirling around so close to explosion, and you needed it like you needed air.

Roman's grip on your hair strengthened, anchoring himself to you. "Don't move. Lemme get that pussy." He was like a Ferrari engine, accelerating with harder pummeling thrusts that filled you to the brim. He was now balanced on just the balls of his feet in an effort to drive deeper into you, pounding you out until you were leaking down your thighs and all over his dick and balls. It felt so good. Too good.

"Yes, Daddy, beat that shit up...unnhhh, my god, I'm coming," you moaned long and loud as you unraveled like flimsy wrapping paper. Stars sparked behind your eyelids as the orgasm tore through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably from its intensity.

"Mmm, there you go sweetheart, soak my dick, come all over it," he snickered proudly, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. "Was that nut good, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy, so good," you grinded out, lightheaded, your eyes glazed over and unfocused, even more so as you felt his hand spread over the back of your neck and hold you down to the countertop, his hips winding against your ass as he stayed burying his long, girthy dick in your warm, snug depths.

"Good, cuz I'm 'bout to nut too...shit, baby girl, this pussy amazing...You gon' make me put a kid in you..."

The thought of him breeding you with his seed had your pussy clenching around his cock, the suckling sensation reducing his husky taunts into yet another helpless moan. You could tell from his breathing that he was indeed close, his frenzied thrusts becoming sloppier as white-hot pleasure surged through both of your bodies in incredible waves.

"Oh shit, Y/N," Roman grunted, squeezing your hips for dear life as something snapped inside him. Slamming his dick into you one last time, he went completely rigid with a shout as he came hard for you. The warm wet spurts of cum emptying inside you caused your body to shiver against his as you milked his dick dry. His heavy weight kept you pressed into the hard marble table, both of you so limp that it didn't seem to matter that you couldn't breathe. Somehow, you managed to stand back upright, making him do the same behind you. As he wrapped you up in a hug, he was still inside you, and you tilted your head up to gently bite his bottom lip before licking at his tongue. It made him smile, and you couldn't help but smile back as he shared a long, greedy kiss with you before finally pulling out with a groan, slapping your backside one more time as he stepped away.

"Save some of that chocolate stuff for us," he said, grinning when you shot him a questioning look. "I want you to use 'em on me again later tonight."

You picked up the two sets of pajamas off the floor. "Hmm, you won't be too tired from dinner and all that?"

"Too tired to fuck you? Never, my baby girl."

"Then I'll make sure to bring a jar of each." You laughed as his Adams apple and his cock bobbed simultaneously, his imagination running wild with all the nasty things you would do to him.

"Good idea. Nah, scratch that, great idea," he corrected himself with a chuckle, lifting you into his arms bridal-style and carrying you out of the kitchen. "Right now, we both need a shower."

"Why do I got a feeling this 'shower' is gonna keep our guests waiting?"

He laughed with you and ascended the stairs. "You know me so well."

It was two p.m. by the time he was through with you. When you determined that your legs could function properly again, you dragged yourself out of his bed, changed into another set of pajamas and made your way back downstairs to put the finishing touches on the food and the rest of the house. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when this man came up behind you and ran his hands all over your body. His dick was hard.

"Again?" you breathed, biting back a gasp when he started undoing the strings of your pants. The guests would be arriving anytime soon.

"Just one more," he groaned huskily in your ear, grabbing a jar of chocolate sauce, "I've missed you so much, baby, I need to taste you one more time..."

About half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Jey and his wife Larissa were your first guests. When the front door opened, they took one good look at you and Roman; disheveled clothing, hair out of place, the smear of sauce over your left breast and on the corner of Roman's lips, and put two and two together.

"Y'all nasty," Larissa giggled and entered the house, with Jey merely shaking his head behind her.

🎄THE END🎄

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

This is definitely my final story for the year. I'm so proud of how many I was able to churn out and EXTREMELY happy and proud of how much you all like it. Thank you all, I appreciate all your support and feedback more than you'll ever know! 🥺

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Thank you all so much for reading!

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#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x reader #the tribal chief #the bloodline

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wheeboo · 6 months

Text

a night to remember | joshua hong

SYNOPSIS. in which a handsome stranger at the bar catches your attention. PAIRING. joshua hong x gn!reader (ft. twice's jihyo since she was the first person to pop up in my head) GENRE. fluff, suggestive, 1920s-ish au, one-night stand au, strangers to ?? WARNINGS. implied sexual content (no actual smut), mentions of cigarettes (reader+jihyo smokes cuz it was socially acceptable at the time) and alcohol, drinking, kissing WORD COUNT. 2.9k

notes: this is obviously based off this masterpiece of a song "a night to remember" by beabadoobee and laufey which i could never do justice but i hope you enjoy! i also impulsively wrote this whole thing btwn the hours of 12-3am so its pretty rushed oops 😭

The dim glow of the flickering marquee lights of the bar spill onto the rain-soaked streets outside, beckoning every passerby to enter into the hazy world of cigarette smoke and clinking glasses. Each swinging of the door releases a burst of warm, smoky air into the cool, drenched night. The air buzzes with the lively chatter of other people, mingling in with the sultry notes of the saxophone and the sweet melodies of the piano drifting through the heavy atmosphere of the bar.

Sat on a worn-out barstool, you bring a cigarette up to your lips and inhale deeply as your eyes flutter to a close, the smoke from the tip suspending in the air and mixing with the potent scent of whiskey also filling your lungs.

"Must you always sit like a boring bystander? Come on, we're here to have fun!" Jihyo stumbles her way right next to you, her sequined dress glistening under the lights like a kaleidoscope.

You only respond to her with a playful roll of your eyes. And with a wry smile, Jihyo plucks the cigarette from your fingers, taking a theatrical, languid drag of her own before flicking the ashes into an already well-worn tray.

You scoff lightly, taking out a fresh cigar. "Well, you already took me here without much of a choice."

Jihyo raises an eyebrow, her grin unwavering. "Afraid of a little fun?"

"Not afraid," You reply with a smirk, swiftly igniting the cigar and leaning back against the bar behind you. "Just comfortable observing the fun itself."

"If you're just going to sit there and look pretty, you might as well have someone to look pretty for, honey," Jihyo teases, her eyes momentarily scanning across the room.

A puff of smoke escapes your lips as you retort, "Easy for you to say."

"Life's too short to be a wallflower, Y/N!" Jihyo exclaims dramatically.

"The excitement will come when it wants to, not when I force it, honey," You reply cryptically.

Jihyo drinks the rest of the bourbon from your glass before taking one last, begging glance in your direction. When you don't seem to want to budge, she shoots you a faint, pert grin before turning away towards the dance floor, each step she takes accentuating the dramatic shake of her hips. You can't help but let out a low chuckle.

The bar was not usually a place where you found yourself willingly. Usually, you'd take the comfortable bubble of your place over the haughty energy of this any day. But tonight, for some reason, the familiar discomfort feels strangely comforting; and plus𑁋much to Jihyo's preference of unwinding𑁋you didn't have much of a choice either way.

From the side, you have the opportunity to simply watch. For example, there's a couple lost in each other's gaze sitting a few tables away from you. Maybe today is their first date, maybe they're rekindling a flame that has flickered in the past, or maybe they've been together for years, and this is their escape from the routines of life.

Then, down at the centre of the bar and close to the small stage at the front where a beautiful young woman stood with a microphone in front of her, there's a group of young friends sharing laughter of their own that gets lost in the music. It reaches your ears almost perfectly the more you focus on them, and it makes you smile to yourself𑁋you like seeing other people happy.

You turn yourself around on the barstool, facing the array of alcohol bottles that are all perfectly lined up together on the shelves. You cup your empty glass in your hands, swaying it lightly as the sounds of the ice clinking against the sides echo softly. The bartender who was perhaps metres away seems to notice your empty glass and gives you a nod, silently asking if you'd like a refill.

You raise your glass in acknowledgment. The bartender approaches up to you and reaches for a bottle with practiced ease, the amber liquid flowing smoothly into your glass once more.

But just as you were about to bring the cup to your lips, the sound of the door creaking open catches your attention. A new figure steps into the bar, their silhouette momentarily framed by the rain-soaked glow from outside, and you notice it's a man. A black fedora sits on his head, hiding away any view you could possibly have of his face, and he wore an elegant black suit with a bow tie that seems to glisten with a subtle sheen against the lighting of the bar.

It wasn't until he takes off his fedora that you realise you just can't seem to stop staring at him, even with all the people brushing past him like he doesn't exist and the hectic activity of the bar. His blonde hair is perfectly styled and coiffed, his features gentle yet carrying an air of both mystery and familiarity. It's almost as if you've seen him before, but nothing particular in your mind rings a bell. Perhaps while walking down the street, across the quiet room of the city's library, or something as ridiculous as your past life, his face might have crossed your path at some point.

You watch the way he scans the room, appearing a bit lost but also intrigued, as if he's searching for something or someone.

And when he eventually lets his eyes sweep across the room and to the bar, his eyes lock onto yours like a snap, and it's enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. The air seems to thicken for a moment, and you couldn't tell if it was the hint of alcohol in your system that's playing with your vision or something else. His lips play into a slight smile as his eyes hold yours, and he puts his fedora back on, before you lose track of him in the crowd in a sudden blink.

You find yourself briefly dazed, spinning around to face the bar once more. You're quick to grab onto your glass once more, seeing the way your reflection sways in the amber liquid as you take a moment to collect yourself. All it took was one look to have your head spinning and your heart racing with a man you probably would never see again.

"What can I get for you?" the voice of the bartender catches your attention.

You glance up to answer. "Oh, I don't need𑁋"

"Just two waters, please."

At the corner of your eye, a black fedora sets itself down on the counter next to you. You turn, and there he is𑁋the man from earlier, standing with a confident yet intriguing demeanour. The bartender nods and gets to work, pouring two glasses of water.

The man turns to you, eyes dark like the night itself. "Mind if I join you?" he asks, a subtle tilt to his lips. His voice is smooth like a well-played jazz tune.

You're taken aback for a moment. The bartender places two glasses of water on the bar in front of you, and you nod, almost hesitantly. The man sidles into the seat beside you, his fingers subtly brushing the tips of yours as he secures himself comfortably on the barstool, and it sends a jolt through your body, a sensation that lingers longer than it should. You catch a whiff of his cologne, both intoxicating and familiar, as it intertwines with the lingering scents of tobacco and whiskey.

"Thank you," he says, eyes never leaving yours as he lifts the glass of water to his lips. "The water is for you, by the way."

You chuckle shyly as you tap your fingers against the cold glass of water, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. "Water? In a place like this?"

He smirks at this, a sight both amusing and enticing. "Well, we don't want to do anything regrettable, right?"

His words seem to crawl under your skin, and it's enough to convince you. You take a sip of the water, the cool liquid a stark comparison to the warmth spreading through all the corners of your body, and you suddenly feel more awake than ever. He also takes another sip of his own water, his eyes following your every move as you nearly down the entire glass. The way he looks at you𑁋with that dark, piercing stare that heavily clashes with the soft features of his handsome face𑁋makes your heart pound in your chest.

Around you, the bar has seemingly grown quiet, the only sound the soft music playing in the background. You can feel the heat of his gaze on your skin, and it's taking everything in you not to choke.

He breaks the silence with a charming smile, eyes now softened. "I'm assuming you don't come here often, do you?"

You meet his gaze with a coy smile, the corners of your mouth lifting. "You're quite the detective, aren't you?" There's a satisfied look to his face, and you clasp your hands together. "but to answer your question𑁋no, not exactly. How about you?"

"Ah, I had just moved here recently, actually," he reveals, which still doesn't seem to help the fact that you swear you've seen him before. It still draws you in, of course, and you can't help but wonder more about the mystery surrounding him𑁋both the one in his eyes and the one lingering in the air. The dim light of the bar casts a subtle glow on his features, and you find yourself captivated by the play of shadows and highlights dancing on his face.

"Welcome to the city then," You say it like a grand gesture. "It could be quite daunting at times, but you'll get used to it."

His gaze doesn't waver, and there's a quiet intensity in the way he studies you. "Perhaps I could get used to it faster if I had the right company."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you're suddenly acutely aware of the proximity between you two. The bar, the jazz music, the muted conversations around you𑁋all fade into the background as if the world has momentarily narrowed down to the space between your barstools.

"Smooth," You reply, a half-smile playing on your lips. "Is that your usual approach?"

He chuckles. "Only in certain situations."

A sly grin forms on your face. "And is this one of those situations?"

He tilts his head slightly as if in thought. "If you want it to be, of course."

All you could do is let out a soft laugh𑁋a laugh that blends with the faint jazz music playing in the background, a laughter that indeed signals the beginning of an unpredictable night.

"To new beginnings?" You raise your nearly-empty glass of water up to him.

He raises his glass in response, and the crystal-clear water catches the ambient lighting above, creating a small, sparkling spectacle on the surface of the bar counter.

"To new beginnings," he echoes.

The next minutes fly by in a breeze. Usually, letting people into your little bubble only causes for you to raise your guard up a bit more. You certainly didn't expect an utter stranger to intrigue you this much, just like a moth to a flame, especially in a place you never frequented to attend. You don't even mind the way his hand somehow found its rightful place on top of yours as you simply talked, or the way a glass of water can make you feel more alive than the strongest drink in the entire bar. And instinctively, your eyes would focus on the way his lips move he as he spoke, just barely catching all the words leaving his mouth.

When the music shifts to a more intimate tone, he looks into your eyes, a subtle invitation lingering in the air.

"Care to share a dance?" he asks, and the simple invitation is enough to course that warmth of anticipation through you once more.

The decision lingers in the air and his hand is extended towards you, a heartbeat away from being made.

And without a word, you slide off the barstool, your hand finding its place in his. He locks his grip on yours, and drags you in the direction of the small dance floor, the pungent smells of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey lingering as you weave through the crowd together.

When he suddenly pulls you closer to him, the scent of his cologne envelops you. His hand rests securely on the small of your back, guiding you with a subtle yet confident touch, the warmth of his fingers seeping through the fabric of your outfit. It sends a thrill through your body that heightens every single one of your senses.

As the music reaches its spirited crescendo, he spins you gently, the movement endearingly awkward, but you both don't care. When he brings you back into his arms, you're suddenly close to him way more than before, enough for his lips to be so close to yours that you can feel his warm breath against your skin.

The song slowly approaches its end, but he doesn't let you go. Yet just as the distance between your lips disappears, he stops. A teasing grin plays on his face, and he pulls away slightly, though your gaze doesn't intend to move away from his mouth.

"You're one of those," You remark airily.

He spins you around again, letting his fingers dance on the skin of your back. "Guilty as charged."

As the song draws to a close, he dips you in a move that feels straight out of a film. Your heart races, and when he pulls you back up, his lips are dangerously close to yours again. But this time, he doesn't hold back, and the kiss is a slow burn, gentle yet intensely passionate. One of his hands come to delicately cup your face, and the other brings you flush against him.

When the kiss breaks, he smiles, a genuine and warm expression that makes your heart flutter.

"Tell me your name," he whispers, breath caressing your cheek.

You meet his gaze, a playful glint in your eyes. "Maybe we’re more similar than you believe."

This only makes him lean in once again.

"Let's keep it that way, then," he suggests, grinning against your ear as if sharing a secret meant for only you. "Care to get out of here?"

It doesn't anything more than that for you to agree with a smile. Without uttering a word, you nod, your hand still entwined with his as you allow him to guide you through the dissipating crowd towards the exit of the bar. He ushers you outside, and the cool droplets that linger on the city's surfaces glisten under the streetlights.

The lively jazz bars highlight at the heart of the city within the late hours of the night, and his place isn't much farther than you anticipated thankfully.

It all happens so fleetingly𑁋one moment you're outside the door to his place, and another you're within the comfort of his bedroom, kissing him so feverishly with your fumbling hands on the buttons of his suit until you both fall on the bed, that the world outside seems to vanish. And when his hand makes contact with your skin for the first time, you could only gasp.

This is a night you will remember, and you'll make sure of it.

You dress yourself back in your clothes in the hushed morning. A comfortable silence lingers in the room, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the waking city. The rain outside has completed ceased away, bathing the bedroom in a soft glow of dawn.

The events of the night replay in your mind like a reel of a film𑁋the moment your eyes first met, the touches of his hands against yours, the kiss you shared on the door floor, and the whispers of sweet nothings to your ear right underneath the sheets you sat atop.

"Leaving so soon?" he asks from behind, the huskiness of his voice making you pause.

You can sense the unspoken words hanging in the air𑁋the silent acknowledgment that this is a chapter that closes as the sun rises.

"Unfortunately, I must," You reply with a wistful smile, reaching for your shoes. "Real life calls."

He sits up on his bed, the sheets pooling around his waist, and you can't help but admire the way the morning light dances on the bareness of his body, his disheveled hair, and the remnants of the night before etched into his beautiful skin. There’s a subtle tension that crackles in the air, and he clears his throat.

"Will I… see you again?"

You turn to face him, the playfulness in your eyes replaced by a hint of contemplation. The smile still doesn’t fade away from your lips.

"Who knows? Life is full of surprises, after all."

He watches you for some time as you fully dress yourself, a gaze struggling between the line of intimacy and distance, letting his eyes soak in your figure.

"Do you regret it at all?"

A pause, like a second and an eternity rolled into one. The room holds a quiet acknowledgment, a shared understanding that some moments are meant to be lived fully, without dwelling on what comes after, while others are meant to come and go like a shooting star. You aren’t entirely sure which this falls under.

"No," You answer simply, before setting your feet on the floor and standing up. "Not at all."

Another round of silence follows as you gather the rest of your belongings, trying to ignore the bittersweet ache in your chest threatening to cut you open. You feel his gaze lingering on you as you move about the room, still feeling those embers of the night before dancing upon your skin, as if they're fighting their way to linger a little longer, to save every last trace of the moments you shared.

"Joshua," he states as if in response to the unspoken question hanging in the air. "Joshua Hong."

His name escapes his lips like a secret, and you savour the sound of it, committing it to memory, committing him to memory. You ponder the thought of what it would be like to have your name said at the tip of his tongue in some other distant, intimate moment.

"Y/N," You whisper your name in return, the final piece of the exchange. "Y/N L/N."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli

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wistfulrat · 7 months

Text

・❥・lesbian wangxian reccs ・❥・

ao3topships poll gate made me realize there are hundreds nay thousands of u who dont know abt lesbian wangxian ?? that’s so sad can i proselytize u real quick

mimilamp cinematic universe (the ppl’s mcu) sorry for starting this list with a whole author catalog. as if it's my fault!! these gave me covid. no listen mimilamp fics have feverish lesbian angst levels of hot horny despair that could paralyze a large forest animal. and on a sentence level it's just stunning. messy dykes fumbling toward love confessions while making emotionally insane choices and the sex scenes fuckn bang ??? god is real

good, good - 13.5k E Wei Ying has two broken wrists and now she needs Lan Zhan to help her do stuff (jerk off)

here’s a story - 46k E Wei Ying reluctantly joins her recently-dumped best friend, Lan Zhan, on a couples' holiday retreat. Snow! Drinks! Truth or dare! There's a s-s-s-single bed! You'll never guess what happens next.

out of your system - 20k E “Maybe you should get me out of your system,” Wei Ying blurts. “Maybe that’ll help.” // Wei Ying finds out her best friend Lan Zhan is in love with her and offers a really super solution.

exposure therapy - 14k E Wei Ying clambered up from the floor, put the joint on the corner of the night stand, announced, “Exposure therapy,” and got into Lan Zhan’s bed. // Lan Zhan doesn't like to be touched, Wei Ying likes to touch.

know no one else - 20k E Lan Zhan moves out, Wei Ying's boyfriend moves in. Six months later, Lan Zhan visits, they go to a party, and Wei Ying has something to tell her.

74243 this author should be studied in a lab bc these 2 fics ruined my life. a pulitzer prize short fic with immaculate tone followed by the fuck nastiest shit you will ever read. "wei ying swipes right" still a top 3 bar of all time re: fic summaries. like people died.

chef’s kiss - 6.5k E Wei Ying said, “You know, in some ways I’m kind of depressed. I took your biggest dick on my first try. Now I don’t have anything to build up to.” “There are bigger ones available,” Lan Zhan said lazily. “I can pay for express shipping.” // (Lan Zhan works the late shift.)

pull out game weak - 22.7k E Wei Ying swipes right.

plonk this is the only fic in many ways. dyke nmj's mustache academy award winning breakout role. possessive hot dyke lwj. the sentence "don't knot her you freak." have u ever seen a group chat get rabies in real time. the slut rot breached containment. it was a public health crisis. it brought back horny cinema. cultural reset.

good friends - 11.5k E “I could invite her over for when the game’s done,” Nie Mingjue offers. Lan Zhan hums, considering it. They do that sometimes. Take omegas down together.

occultings will i ever get tired of -wwx thinks she's straight and wants to practice being gay with sadsack lwj who is like sure im in love with u and this will cause me psychic damage but mayhaps that's the cost of being homiesexual--? no i dont get tired of the classics it's called taste

give me one good honest kiss - 25k E The text keeps flashing over and over in Lan Zhan's head like the bulb lights on a marquee. They’d been talking about homework directly before that, swapping notes on music theory in the baroque period. Then, like a fork of lightning out of a clear blue sky: wanna practice kissing? 😚 // Wei Ying suggests an arrangement. Lan Zhan, in love, deals.

saltyfeathers ok so like sure it's ill advised to get your cartilage pierced at claire's but if you wanted the experience of participating in deranged hysteric behavior that kinda bangs in a badgood way? well then.

the mall that has it all - 8k E She introduced herself in the food court, breathless after sprinting across it in Lan Zhan’s direction and vaulting over a table only to crash into the seat across from her, ask, “Can I have a sip?”, spring forward with both elbows on the table to wrap her burgundy lips around Lan Zhan’s smoothie straw, wrinkle her nose, and say, “What is that, kale? Not really my thing, as like, a mall goth. Oh!” A pleased, chaotic exhale. “My name’s Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan said, after taking a moment to fully process the last forty-five seconds, “What?” or; mall goth au

#just thought abt mimilamp “baby are you happy” and almost walked into traffic #wangxian fic rec #lesbian wangxian #mdzs #the untamed #cql #femslash #wlw wangxian #mimilamp #74243 #plonk #occultings #saltyfeathers

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aftgficrec · 6 months

Note

ah I'm so excited you're open!!! thank you for the ridiculous amount of work you all do 🙏ok, this might be too specific but any fics with an alternate take on Andrew and Neil's post-trk reunion? Andrew gets out of easthaven early, Neil leaves the Nest later, AU's, etc.? i think it's a really interesting point in their dynamic, and I'm a sucker for sober Andrew realizing someone was watching his back for once

Feeling a bit like a Bernie Sanders’ meme – ‘I am once again asking myself why I spent so much time on an ask,’ 😅 but it's because this is such an iconic and beloved scene for our fandom. For a super fun ‘live’ first-time reader reaction to this high drama, check out ‘The King’s Men, Chapter 1 – Hello Foxhole, My Old Friend’ by @nickireadstfc here. -A

also see

Andrew's POV of throwing keys off roof here

‘Come and Save Me From It’ here (completed)

‘Learning To Feel (When You've Forgotten How)’ and the fandom meta posts here

‘pipedream’ here

‘reaching for the heights’ here

‘Lost boy’ and ‘[Un]broken’ here

‘I Know You From A Nightmare,’ ‘The Marks We Make,’ and ‘Draw Me Out, Mark Me In’ here

‘Marked’ and ‘Soulmates who can feel each other’s pain’ here

‘Of Stars and Stories’ here

‘What’s normal now?’ here

long previous recs with reunion mention

‘No More Fucks To Give’ here (updated)

‘The Sphynx and the Hare’ here (completed)

‘corvus, vulpes, lupus’ here

‘never fallen (from quite this high)’ here

‘Not a Pipe Dream’ here

‘everything and nothing begins with you’ here

Andrew gets sober, Neil stays at Evermore

‘Oh Raven,’ ‘Jailbird,’ and ‘Take to the Wing’ here

‘Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die)’ here

‘Comeback’ here

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A Taste of Your Own Medicine by caffeine_withdrawl [Rated M, 66454 Words, Incomplete, Updated March 2023]

Set after the infamous Thanksgiving, but then diverges from canon. Andrew and Bee decide it’s time for Andrew to come off the drugs, but works some magic so that he is allowed to do it in Columbia. Neil is tasked with helping him through it. They decide to do it the same way Andrew helped Aaron sober up, by locking him in a bathroom. Andrew doesn't react well, and switches between rage and panic. Andrew wonders if Neil is real or if he made him up because of the drugs.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: body horror, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: flashbacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: drug addiction, tw: withdrawal, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: ptsd, tw: emotional abuse, tw: hallucinations

making it harder to breathe by Azure_Allumiia [Rated T, 1643 Words, Complete, 2021]

Christmas Break with the Foxes, featuring Andrew at Easthaven and Neil in Evermore. Foxes celebrate New Years in NYC with the ball drop.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: medical abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood

Dead Birds by Noah98 [Rated G, 1601 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Neil just got back from Evermore and Andrew has returned from Easthaven. Riko calls. He wants a rematch and oh boy does he get it.

tw: violence, tw: blood/gore

Art

NB: just a sampling of art for this scene

“Feel Again” original song by @whatbutandreil [Tumblr, 2020]

Picking up Andrew from Easthaven part 1, part 2 comic by @coldcigarettes

andreil keys off the roof scene: animation by @hahanken | comic by @rainbowd00dles | comic by @lunapiq | art by @esklinray

I hate you comic by @thematicallycoherent

I’m not a hallucination art by @clumsyartish

Stick around long enough to figure it out for yourself. edit by @m1nyards

You are a pipe dream art by @viennemort

“you spend all this time watching our backs” edit by @matthcwboyd

not a hallucination a pipe dream art by @kryptidfox

“you were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs.” art by @planetmontressor

"Go inside and leave me alone." art by @dimsunstuff

“No, you’re a pipe dream.” art by @starkingdraws

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

Text

Cause of Action 3

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Mr. Barber –Andy– pulls into a spot along a street you recognise. You won’t voice why you find it familiar, that’s probably better left unsaid. Your nightlife is hardly relevant to a law office.

You get out and wait as he pays the parking pass kiosk and puts the slip in his windshield. He looks at his watch again. His apparent anxiety is adding to your own. You walk with him up the pavement and hesitate as he turns to cross. Oh, it can’t be.

You look up at the club’s marquee and repress any twitch of guilt. Of course you’d been there before, a couple times with friends, but you’re really not big on the scene. Still, you wonder what he would think.

It’s early. Door’s have yet to open but it doesn’t hinder him from walking along the brick front of the building and knocking on the double doors. You chew your lip. Your brain isn’t processing this properly. You have no idea what’s going on.

Andy looks at you and gives a rocky chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck, “client is a friend of the owner.”

“Ah,” you give a short nod.

“Not really our typical meeting place but he’s hard to pin down,” Andy explains, “we shouldn’t be long.”

The door opens and you’re greeted by a man with an imperious curl to his lips. Sleek black hair combed back so the spiraled ends cluster behind his ears. Andy gives a tilt of his head.

“Uh, Laufeyson,” he points at him unsure, “I’m here for Hansen?”

“Ah, yes,” the man, Laufeyson lets out a long exhale, “I should charge him rent with how often he frequents. Come.”

He steps back and Andy catches the door, holding it for you until you precede him inside. The dark-haired man considers you with an air of discernment. You squirm as you glance around. This place looks a lot different with the lights on.

“Oh, this is my intern,” Andy supplies, “showing her the reins.”

“Hi,” you greet and offer your name. The man doesn’t acknowledge you.

“This is Loki, he owns the place.”

“Doors in an hour,” Laufeyson intones dismissively as he turns on his heel, “I’m certain you’ll find your way.”

Andy sniffs but says nothing. It isn’t until Loki is halfway up the stairs that he even moves. Andy shifts into motion, gesturing you into the main room of the club. He halts and looks around before pointing out another staircase; that one twisting and metal.

“I think it’s just up there,” he says as he continues forward and you scurry to keep up.

“So, uh, what kind of case exactly is this for?” You wonder as he stops at the bottom of the stairs and again waits for you to go first.

“Standard lawsuit. Employment contract breach. Hopefully, we can keep it to a deposition.”

“Mmm,” you hum thoughtfully, “is this the employee?”

“Employer,” Andy tuts, “burden of proof really isn’t on us, so there’s that.”

“Right,” you don’t head down the hall until Andy directs you onward to the door with a golden snake on it, “if he’s doing business here…”

You let the thought drift. It’s not really your place to say.

“You’re not wrong,” Andy says, “I’ve heard wild stories about this place.” He reaches past you and taps on the door with his knuckles, “an ex of mine, she apparently came here, liked to hook up with strange men…”

“Oh?” You blink but add no comment.

“Meanwhile, when I was married, my wife accused me of coming to places like this while I was working overtime to pay the mortgage,” he scoffs, “well, I guess that’s not important. Sorry. Just… this is weird.”

“A little,” you agree as his vocalisation of the fact eases the tension.

The door opens and you’re met by a man with a rather bristly accoutrement across his lip. You almost snort at the mustache but think better of it. It wouldn’t do well to mock this man’s fashion sense. He is a client after all and despite the venue, this is still a professional meeting.

“Barber,” the man greets as he leers down at you, giving a wink, “you brought some fun?”

“Hansen,” Andy growls back, a silty tone that makes you shiver, “my intern. Play nice.”

“Ah, I’m always nice,” he smooths a hand over his hair before offering it, “how are you, sunshine? Lloyd.”

“Um,” you reluctantly shake his hand and give your name, “I’m fine.”

“Fine, well, let’s fix that, come in,” he backs up and turns, strutting away in his tight white pants and shimmery satin shirt. He isn’t really dressed for business. “Barber, you hound, you finally got me. You better make it fast.”

He grabs a bottle and pops the top, “you know, I have a long night ahead of me.”

“I told you I had noon free–”

“Noon? I was still waking the snake–”

“Hey, cut it out,” Andy warns.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lloyd looks at you with a smirk, “she looks old enough–”

“She’s not here for that. So let’s get to it. I need the records of employment. What you sent me is a cocktail napkin and a snapchat conversation. That’s not gonna cut it.”

“Oh really? Like I said, it wasn’t really a contract. Not in the way she’s saying. Bimbo,” he scoffs as he pours a shot, then another, “it’s simple, there is no case.”

“If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

Lloyd nears and offers one of the glasses. Andy sighs and stretches an arm in front of you to block the other man, “what are you doing?”

“You got this sweet little piece working late. I’m just tryna make it worth her time. You seem like the stingy type,” Lloyd sneers, “one shot won’t hurt.”

“She’s on the clock.”

Lloyd’s brows rise and he snorts. He doesn’t say whatever thought dimples in his cheek.

“Loosen up, you want some? I can get some scotch up here, old man.”

“I drove.”

“Uber,” Lloyd insists, “don’t be a fucking cock block.”

He elbows past Andy and presents you the shot, “there ya go, sweet heart. The good stuff. Top shelf. Whatever he pays you isn’t enough to get you a single ounce.”

You stare at the shot, then Andy. You know you shouldn’t and you really don’t want to drink. You tend to stick to a single drink on your nights out and dilute it with as much water as you can get.

“Um, thanks, but–”

“But nothing. Don’t let the geezer get you down.” He holds the shot almost in your face, “take it, sweet pea. Trust me, you’ll thank me.”

Andy nudges you gently, “it’s fine,” he grumbles under his breath as he takes out his phone, “I’m not leaving until I have something, Hansen.”

“You know what, I’ll give you better than hard evidence, something even harder,” Lloyd snickers as you take the shot but make no move to drink.

Andy backs off, rubbing his cheek as he turns his back to you. He’s angry. You can tell. You’re starting to wonder why he even brought you if he knew this man was like this. Maybe it’s good to get a taste of the difficult ones.

“Cheers, baby,” Lloyd clinks his shot glass against yours, “bottoms up.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #drabble #series #au #the club #cause of action

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afewproblems · 1 year

Note

For the prompts #39 things you forgot to say and number 23 things you were forced to say steddie hurt/ comfort

Thank you for this combo - I hope I’ve done it justice but my hand slipped and this got long and it got sad…so I apologize in advance!

“Shit!” Steve hisses, wrenching his face away from the open oven door as a cloud of hot moist air rushes out, he wipes his face with the free hand not holding the oven door handle.

“You good man?” Robin laughs from where she’s perched on the counter, her dangling legs swing joyfully back and forth.

“Peachy,” Steve mutters, grabbing a hot-cloth to pull out the baking tray, he shakes the mini pigs in a blanket around to dislodge them from the foil before putting the tray back onto the middle rack, “put on another fifteen would ya?” he says over his shoulder to Robin.

She snatches the little blue egg timer from beside her thigh and twists it to the appropriate time before placing it back onto the counter.

It's not the only snack he's prepared, granted to call it preparation would be a bit of a stretch. He had grabbed chips and pop, beer, and juice -just in case, that afternoon. It wasn't as though he hadn't needed a grocery run, and the most intensive snack was now baking in the oven, it wasn't all out, not really…

“Going all out I see,” she hums with a quirked eyebrow and a growing smile.

Steve smirks, ignoring the heat that blooms across his cheeks and ears that has nothing to do with the open oven door. She knows exactly what he's trying to do and who it's for.

Eddie had somehow, after everything, burrowed his way into their lives and never left.

And it was nice, he had a wicked sense of humor and warm brown eyes that made Steve's heart quicken in a way he couldn't quite explain.

He and Robin had talked it to death in fact, analyzing each small moment, each lingering glance or touch that had occurred between them over the last few months since Eddie had been discharged from the hospital.

Steve had even begun hanging out with Eddie alone, invited along for movie nights in the new Munson trailer.

***

“Come on,” Steve scoffs as he throws a handful of popcorn into Eddie’s face from his side of the couch, he laughs as Eddie meets the projectiles with an open mouth, “Han Solo Harrison Ford could totally take out Indiana Jones Harrison Ford, no contest!”

Eddie snorts and shakes his head sagely, “Oh Steven, sweet Steven,” he takes a long drag on the joint between his fingers and blows it out through his nose, “you forget about Rick Deckard! The trenchcoat alone man!”

“Who?” Steve says as his face scrunches into a slight frown, he gestures for Eddie to pass the joint and takes a long pull before coughing roughly as the smoke hits his lungs, it’s been awhile since he’s actually smoked but, ah well, when in Rome.

Eddie grins and launches into an explanation of something called Blade Runner and the pros and cons of the retelling of something about electric sheep? He vaguely remembers the title on the Hawk Theater marquee, but he was also pretty sure that was the year he and Patty Campbell made out while The Thing played in the background, so he must have missed it. Steve feels himself drift away, slightly lost as Eddie continues to speak, he watches the way the metal-head’s hands fly around - emphatically gesturing as he lists his points. He’s so pretty like this, his eyes bright and his dimples on full display--

Oh. Oh shit.

The familiar bubble of warmth blooms inside his chest and travels up, spreading into his hands and dusting his face with a light pink that he hopes is obscured by the dim light in the Munson living room. Shit.

“Family video should have it, we’ll pick it up for next time,” Eddie hums, he reaches for the joint, letting his fingers brush Steve’s own and it feels like sparks dance along his skin.

Oh, double shit.

Eddie suddenly sits up straight, his legs slide off of the couch and onto the floor, nearly toppling the ashtray on the rug.

“I mean, not sure when we’ll get around to uh, to doing that though you know?” Eddie says quickly, keeping his face trained on the ashtray below as he drops the roach into it. It bounces once and hits the carpet prompting a low groan as Eddie scoops it up before the ash can stain.

“With Hellfire I mean, I don’t,” Eddie swallows, he looks at Steve once before dropping his gaze back to the floor, “you know how difficult it can be to schedule the kids and then with trying to find a place to host everyone--”

“I could have you,” Steve says, the words leap from his mouth loudly with little to no thought, “I mean, I could host,” he says quickly, his ears feel as though they’ve been engulfed in flames but he presses on, “Hellfire I mean, you know, if you want?”

Eddie’s head tilts slightly as he finally turns to look at Steve once more, his large brown eyes flick back and forth between Steve’s own before he grins and clears his throat, tucking a handful of curls behind his ear.

“Alright Big Boy, I’m preparing to be wow’d,” Eddie says as he leans back against the arm of the couch once more and brings his feet back up, stretching towards Steve - just shy of his thigh.

Steve can’t help but beam at Eddie, even as his heart hammers at a mile a minute, he leans into the ratty couch cushions as casually as possible, “Nothing but the best for his highness,” Steve murmurs as he points his face back towards Harrison Ford on the television screen.

He calls Robin as soon as he gets home that night, it’s late, nearly midnight, but she still takes his call - much to the disapproval of her parents.

Thank God for Robin Buckley.

“When are you going to get your own line Robs,” Steve huffs once Mrs. Buckley finishes scolding him for the late hour, he’s lucky she bothered to even get Robin for him but Steve has managed to ever so slightly charm Mr. and Mrs. Buckley over the last year or two. He’s fairly certain they think he and Robin are dating, but if that’s the case they haven’t said as much.

“Not all of us are rich you dick,” she yawns into the receiver, “now spill it, what's so important that you’re calling this late?”

“I..I think,” he swallows, the silence on the other end of the line makes the words stick in his throat, “I like someone, uh I’m kind of freaked out about it Robin…”

"You like Eddie, you mean?" Robin says, so matter-of-factly that Steve almost drops the phone, he scrambles to keep ahold of it, “Steve?” Robin’s confused voice floats out of the receiver in soft tinney tones as he brings it back up to his ear.

"How did you--”

“You’re not exactly subtle dingus, plus you had a crush on me before so I’ve gotten pretty good at seeing when you’re mooning over someone,” she says with a laugh in her voice, it finally manages to pull a small grin out of him.

Steve groans, pressing the heel of his hand into his left eye until stars flash in his vision, “What the hell am I going to do Buckley? I’ve offered my place to host Hellfire”.

“Why on earth would you do that?” She hisses in exasperation.

“It just came out!”

She sighs and it crinkles in his ear like static, “Well then,” she hums after a beat, “we’re going to need a game plan”.

***

Steve shakes his head slightly, and winks at her, "You know everything I do is to impress you Buckley," he snarks back, flipping the oven door closed with a snap. Steve grabs a discarded tea towel from the counter to wipe his hands before he stretches the fabric out into a lax bridge between his hands, he spins the towel suddenly and whips it out to catch at Robin's jean clad knees.

She squawks and leaps away from the counter with a wide grin, "asshole," Robin says affectionately, snatching the makeshift weapon away from him.

She wanders over to the fridge, popping open the door and leaning down to inspect the shelves. Robin huffs out a breath, "I don't think I've ever seen this many drink options outside of a literal vending machine," she turns slightly to look over her shoulder, "not impressing anyone my ass".

Steve rolls his eyes, ignoring the flutter of nerves in his chest, it wasn’t the first time he had hosted the kids for a game night but this was the first time for the rest of the Hellfire group and the first time Steve would be meeting Eddie's friends and bandmates.

It shouldn't be as nerve wracking as it is.

"Is it too much?" he asks lowly, crossing his arms over his chest, it had been Robin’s idea after all to cater to their stomachs, as the old saying went.

Robin stands up with a can of coke in hand, she cracks the tab and sips it, her eyes never leaving his face, she stares contemplative for what feels like an eternity before eventually rolling her eyes.

"Nah, as much as it pains me to say, I think it’s pretty perfect,” she tips the can towards him as if in a toast, “plus, if he still hasn’t caught it yet I'm sure you'll have to really spell it out.”

Robin gestures towards the fridge with a wry smile, "perhaps using the bountiful drink selection you have for us".

Steve snorts and feels his chest slowly begin to unclench, "don't tempt me Bobs" he mutters under his breath.

A shout and chorus of groans and, 'what the fuck man's’ ring out from the living room where the group have set up, Steve snorts at the mutinous tone in Mike's voice which carries farther than any of the others.

"Better get a move on with the snacks, the mob is getting restless," Robin says sagely before grabbing a handful of chips from a nearby bowl.

Steve swears if he rolls his eyes harder they'd fall out, but he grabs two bowls and makes his way over to the swinging door connecting the kitchen to the dining room.

The sounds of arguing increases, as Steve steps over the threshold, he smiles fondly at the sight of the kids. Will has his face in his hands, he's seated cross legged in one of the dining room chairs, Lucas is seated next to him with an arm on his shoulder, his eyes volley back and forth watching Dustin and Mike snarking at each other.

Mike is standing, leaning over the table and gesturing emphatically at the plastic mat draped over the wood surface of the Harrington dining room table.

It had belonged to his maternal grandmother and had been collecting dust since Steve had been old enough to reach the stove, old enough to be left on his own while his parents traveled for work.

At least now it was finally being put to good use, maybe not as Nana Marino intended, but Steve didn't think she would have minded.

Dustin stands as well and picks up a small model, thrusting it into Mike's face, "look me in the eyes and tell me you think that's a good plan," he snarls as Mike swats at Dustin's hand, the plastic goes flying as Mike's hand connects.

"Hey, hey," Steve shouts as Dustin pushes Mike away by the shoulders, "break it up, Jesus Christ you two".

He sets the snack bowls on the table, ignoring the huff from Lucas who immediately moves them off the mat.

Steve rolls his eyes as he bends down to grab the discarded figurine, it's a tiny…dwarf? At least that's what Steve thinks, he's sure that Dustin has told him his character's name and that the word dwarf has been used a few times that night, but he's unsure -and the spotty paint job does nothing to make it clearer as he holds up the model to his eye line.

"Whatever Steve, you don't get it, Dustin is being an asshole-"

"Me?! You're the one-"

Steve blows out a sharp whistle before bringing his hands up to form a T shape, "Time out, Jesus, where is your mediator, your Dungeon Man?"

"You know that's not what he's called," Mike grumbles under his breath while Dustin scowls and points to the sliding glass door to the backyard.

Steve nods and pockets the figurine, ignoring the loud, 'Hey!' that Dustin bites out as he wanders towards the door.

"Relax, you'll get him back when you can guarantee no one's going to have him jammed down their throat," Steve calls over his shoulder with a smirk.

Steve slides open the glass door and steps out into the cool evening air. The sun has set but the last hints of pink and periwinkle paint the horizon, bathing the yard in blue twilight. Steve hears voices from around the corner of the house and the unmistakable smell of cigarettes floats his way as he steps closer. He's about to clear his throat, announce himself, when he hears his own name.

"So what's up with Harrington?" The first voice says, Gareth, Steve thinks to himself, he blinks at the tone, it's curious if a little…teasing?

"What about him?" Eddie says, a lighter clicks in the background before a short pause. The smell of tobacco blooms once more, stronger now than before. Steve settles against the wall of the house, it's not right to eavesdrop -he knows that, but he can't help but wait, his feet rooted alongside his mothers rhododendrons.

"I mean come on, how is it that King Steve is hosting us in this fucking 'McMansion'," another voice says sharply, Jeff, Steve thinks, ignoring the small wave of hurt at the old title.

"It's just…,” there’s a pause, “kinda weird man," Gareth says quietly. Gravel crunches and for a heart stopping moment Steve thinks he'll be caught, "I didn't think you were friends?"

Steve presses himself into the wall, willing himself to move, to run back to the house as quickly and quietly as he can, but he can’t seem to move, he holds his breath as Eddie speaks.

Eddie snorts, "You think I'm friends with a guy like that?"

The words hit Steve harder than he thought they would, cutting into his chest, settling in alongside, Bullshit, and, Asshole. They curl together and sink into his skin like a bruise.

"It's okay if you are Eddie," Gareth tries again, a soft grunt joins the words, and Jeff mutters something in begrudging agreement.

Eddie laughs.

He fucking laughs.

"You guys are hysterical, he's friends with the sheepies, and yeah he offered this house, why wouldn't we want to take advantage of it?"

Right.

Steve nods to himself, letting the last threads of hope tear apart, he slips away from the wall as quietly as possible and makes his way back to the sliding glass door, grateful he left it open, silently making his escape.

He closes it as quietly as possible and considers latching the door for a brief moment before scrubbing his hand roughly over his face.

That was the old Steve talking, the one who would have locked the doors and kicked everyone out over something as trivial as someone not wanting to be his friend. The one who rejected others before they could reject him first, who wrapped himself in barbs and venom and sneered at people who were unapologetically different. Like Eddie.

But Eddie wasn't just someone, and Steve hadn’t been King of anything for a long time.

And, unless Eddie had forgotten, Steve was fairly certain they were friends, or at least it shouldn’t have been a completely unfounded thought that he and Eddie were at least on some kind of friendly terms.

Steve shakes his head and swallows the newly formed lump in his throat.

He always did this, his heart ran ahead of his head and got itself hurt, again. At least this time he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself.

Steve sighs and tamps down the wave of hurt that sweeps through his chest, he shoves it into a corner, into a little box on its own, and shuts the lid.

It was fine, he was fine.

The kids have settled down at this point as Steve walks back towards the dining room table. Mike is laughing at something, Will's face has been removed from his hands and Dustin and Lucas are indulging in handfuls of chips from the bowls Steve had brought out earlier. One is nearly empty and at least Will has the good graces to look sheepish as he spots Steve walking in.

"Sorry Steve," Will says with a soft smile, as he grabs the bowl to hand over, "We might have gotten a little carried away".

Steve smiles but it's tight at the edges as he reaches out to take the bowl, he can feel Will's eyes on him as he moves to the other side of the table towards the kitchen door, "don't worry about it little Byers," Steve mumbles mostly to himself. He misses the worried glances that Will and Dustin exchange with one another as he walks back into the kitchen.

Robin has left her perch on the counter to stand beside the oven, magazine in hand, she doesn't look up as he walks in and places the bowl on the counter.

Robin looks over at the egg timer with narrowed eyes, "five more minutes, wanna have a look at em?" she hums as she puts the magazine on the counter, a picture of the Charlie's Angels graces the cover.

He shakes his head and grabs another bag of chips for the kids to put out, Steve resists the urge to pinch his nose --Robin knows him too well at this point to miss such a gesture.

He clears his throat, "I'm sure they're good Robbie, let me just bring more fuel for the goblins out there".

Steve meets her gaze for just a moment, her eyes narrow at him now and trace over his face. He rolls his shoulders, shaking off her stare and turns on his heel as Robin opens her mouth to say something, he beats her to the punch, "You stare any harder, you're going to turn into the Terminator scanning me like that Robbie”.

It works for a moment, throwing her off kilter just enough for him to escape to the dining room as a laugh tumbles out of her open mouth.

The older boys have rejoined the group as Steve makes his way to the table with the refill, Dustin makes grabby-hands at the bowl which Steve hands over with a roll of his eyes.

Jeff is seated next to Dustin, his eyes trail after Steve but his expression seems neutral enough for the moment. Gareth sits in between Will and Lucas, his gaze resting pensively on the figurine in his hands, he looks up when Steve enters and a small friendly smile slowly blooms, it settles Steve - just enough to allow a small smile back.

Eddie stands on the far side of the table, where a binder has been propped up to block his notebooks and dice, his arms are crossed tightly across his chest and his shoulders form a stiff line. He’s frowning slightly at his books, if he sees Steve walk in he doesn’t acknowledge it.

Steve's chest tightens at the sight, he gathers up the second wave of hurt and sweeps it away once again, latching the lid of the box this time.

How the hell did he read this so wrong? Where was the Eddie that shared in private jokes, leaning over to share an aside to Steve that was just for them, the one who called him Stevie and slung a warm arm around his shoulders as they watched bad movies late into the night.

Had he done something, Steve wonders? Something to piss Eddie off tonight?

He wracks his brain, sifting through the events of the evening but nothing comes to mind. They had barely said two words to each other before Eddie had disappeared while Steve and Robin were cooking in the kitchen.

So where was this coming from?

Lucas leans over the mat on the table to snag another handful of chips,littering crumbs over the crudely drawn map and character models, Eddie tisks loudly and leans over to blow away the crumbs.

"You always get the best snacks man," Lucas says brightly through his mouthful to Steve, “and maybe even, make the best ones?”

Dustin, Will, and Mike all turn expectantly to Steve, Dustin and Will with open hopeful expressions and even Mike has removed his perpetual scowl to look at Steve with something closer to begrudging anticipation.

“Yeah, it should be done right away here, gotta keep you assholes well fed before you go out and terrorize Waterdeep right?” Steve

"Since when does King Steve know D&D?" Jeff asks with a laugh, his eyebrows crease together incredulously and he and Eddie share a look.

“Jeff,” Gareth mutters at the same time that Dustin says, “I’ve been trying to convince Steve to play with us for ages but--”

“Pfft, Harrington? Play Dungeons and Dragons? I’d know if Hell had frozen over Dustin,” Eddie scoffs as he sits down roughly in his seat behind the binder, from where Steve is standing it obscures Eddie's face before he leans back in the dining chair.

Right.

Steve nods once and clears his throat before turning away from the kids, he avoids Dustin’s gaze which burns into the side of his face, “I think the timer is about to go, I’ll uh, be back in a sec”.

He walks swiftly in three strides towards the door, letting his foot catch it as it swings open with a thunk.

“What the fuck Eddie,” Steve barely hear’s Mike’s muffled words through the closed door as he walks towards the counter and snatches the hot-cloth from where it lay next to the timer. They offer little comfort as he wrenches open the oven door.

“Steve?” Robin says softly, she’s using her wounded-bunny voice that he absolutely hates. He ignores it and the way it makes his chest clench again, the box is getting too full for this.

“Steve,” Robin says again, she reaches out to touch his shoulder but he keeps moving and grabs the pan from the oven. A few of the pigs in a blanket are burnt, the dark brown, almost black, singing on the edges mars just of a few of them.

It’s the last straw of the night.

“Fuck,” he snarls, slamming the tray onto the stovetop with so much force that one of the pigs goes flying, he winces as it hits the floor.

Steve bends in half to grab it, ignoring the sting as the hot pastry and meat connects with his fingers. He tosses it into the sink with a muffled metallic thud.

“Jesus Steve,” Robin hisses at him, her eyes dart back and forth between his face and the closed kitchen door, “what the fuck happened in there?”

“Nothing Robin, just drop it,” Steve growls as he wrenches the cupboard open and takes out a large plate. He can’t do this now, not while everyone is still here.

“Steve?” a small voice says from the door, Dustin slowly walks into kitchen, approaching the pair of them like wild animals, “I wanted to--”

“Oh shit, right,” Steve says, deflating as he remembers.

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his nose before pulling out the small dwarf model from his pocket, Steve tosses it over to Dustin who just manages to catch it.

“Sorry man,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head as he schools his expression into something flatter, more neutral, “completely forgot about him, if you want to wait a second I’ll get these on a plate you can bring them over to everyone--”

“No, Steve--”

“I think we have mustard in the fridge and maybe a little relish left, I’m not sure what all goes with these guys,” Steve mutters, crossing to the fridge, he opens the door and sticks his head in.

“Steve--”

“Or what everyone else likes, um, you know what, just take all of these,” he sighs, gathering up the bottles and jars in his arms, he brings them over to the counter beside the plate and brings his foot back to kick the fridge door closed once more.

Steve turns off the oven and haphazardly tosses the remaining pigs onto the plate before turning around to Dustin and Robin. Dustin’s face is pinched and red, his mouth cast into a deep troubled frown, while Robin scowls with narrowed eyes but the smallest hint of worry seeps through.

“Anyway,” Steve mumbles, avoiding their gaze, “don’t destroy the house, just let me know when you go, and I’ll lock up”.

Steve sighs again and sweeps his hair away from his face, “I think I’m just going to go lay down for a bit, migraine,” he says, lifting his hand to gesture towards his forehead.

It’s not even a lie, a steady ache has been building behind his eyes since he overheard the elder Hellfire members talking in the yard. He tosses the cloth in his hands on the counter and turns to the main hallway to head upstairs.

“Have fun,” Steve says softly before sweeping away down the hallway.

Steve makes it about halfway up the stairs before he hears light foot-falls on the carpet behind him, he glances over his shoulder to see Robin following silently.

She’s still looking at him with an irritated scowl but her worried blue eyes undercut the ferocity he’s sure she is going for, Steve sighs and continues climbing, knowing she wouldn’t listen to him even if he told her to go.

Steve opens his bedroom door and flips on the light for them, wincing at the sudden brightness, he closes his eyes and walks until his knees hit the bed and lets himself fall gracelessly onto the mattress. He hears Robin wander over to the desk lamp, turning it on with a small snick, she crosses the room again and flicks off the ceiling light before closing the door and joining him on the bed.

“So,” she hums, prodding him roughly between the ribs with a rigid pointer finger, Steve jolts and makes a muffled squawk into the covers, “are you going to actually tell me what’s wrong or are you going to take it out on more pork products?”

Steve rolls over slowly onto his back before bringing his lower lip up to chew on. Robin’s eyes grow softer the longer he takes to speak, he has to tell her.

“I was wrong Robin, we were wrong, he practically hates me,” Steve whispers to the ceiling, he feels her shift on the bed beside him, inching even closer.

“Eddie??” Robin whispers as she reaches out to place her hand firmly on Steve’s chest and rubs a soothing circle over his heart, “you-- no, that’s not true”.

“I overheard him,” Steve says eventually, he clears his throat and reaches up to wipe his eyes which have begun to sting, damn migraine, “outside when I went to grab them, they were talking about me”.

Her hand freezes and her fingers clench into his sweater, Steve reaches up to gently pry her hand away, he offers a firm squeeze of her smaller palm.

“What did he say Steve,” she whispers, her eyes dart over his face, as though cataloging each small change in his expression.

Steve chews his lip again, this time, keeping a careful lock on the words before they tumble out, “just leave it alone Robbie,” he says softly, “I just want to forget this ever happened”.

Steve turns over onto his side, pillowing his head under his arm. He scootches over to make more room for her.

Robin hesitates for just a moment, turning towards the door with fire in her eyes, before Steve tugs on her hand, stealing her closer, down beside him.

Robin sighs as she curls up, she reaches over with her one free hand and pokes his chest again, hitting him square in the sternum, “he didn’t deserve you anyway, he’s your Tammy Thompson,” Robin says shrewdly, nodding once to herself, “and my villain origin story,” she mutters after a beat, under her breath.

Steve closes his eyes and nods silently, the words are meant to be comforting, he knows, but what little balm they contain do not help with the ache deep in his chest.

Steve opens his eyes as Robin kicks at his foot, probably harder than she means to, she at least has the good graces to look sorry.

“I mean it dingus,” she murmurs, “I wouldn’t lie to you, and us single losers have to stick together after all”.

Steve laughs brightly and pulls her closer, letting himself bask in her warmth.

She wasn’t wrong, at least they had each other, and maybe, for now, that was enough.

You can read Part Two Here

#afewproblems writes #afewproblems answers #platonic stobin #Robin is a great friend #hurt and comfort #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #One sided Steddie #This went in such a completely different direction that I was intending but #I do hope its still enjoyable #and maybe we're going to have to see what the heck Eddie is thinking because that kid has some splaining to do #Hurt Steve Harrington #Robin is not afraid to throw hands #Gareth is trying to keep the peace #this got so long somehow #also #this prompt was so hard to conceptulatize #so I really hope that the things that Eddie forgot to say and the things that Steve was forced to say were relatively clear!

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hey-august · 4 months

Note

Can I get an uhhhhhhhhhh a soft slightly subby "Can I touch you" from Buggy to the reader? I am in need of smth cute but also vile (if you catch my drift)

Dearest anon, I adore this prompt but might have overthought it 🙃 If I missed the mark or you have more ideas in your head, plsss throw another ask at me ❤️

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, gettin' a little too touchy in public (it works out) Word count: ~600

a candle illuminates the dinner table for two. the restaurant is dim, as is the chatter from surrounding tables. buggy’s foot taps against yours. little nudges from the pirate across the table. easily ignorable. until his foot trails up your leg, dragging your attention along with it.

a stern look stops the advancement. buggy retreats, shifting back in his seat with a morose expression.

“you can have dessert after dinner, okay?” you remind the clingy clown.

his spirits lift at the prospect of a sweet treat. after a moment, he leans forward and reaches out. the gesture interrupts your story. you look at him suspiciously, wondering if the spark in his eyes is from the candle or something else. his fingers wiggle, wanting contact with you.

“c’mon, you’re so far away and i wanna touch you. please? can i?”

he’s whining, but you can’t turn buggy down. he even dressed up for the dinner date. you slip your fingers between his and squeeze.

buggy waits until you take a sip of wine before continuing to follow through with his request. you cough into the glass when something squeezes your thigh under the table. your narrowing eyes are met with a smirk. he holds your hand tighter as his other appendage teasingly dances across your lap. your wine sloshes as you set it down.

“cut it out!” your harsh whisper cuts through the hot fuzzy feeling in your head.

buggy’s hand works its way in between your legs until it can nest against your body and create just enough sensation to fluster you. the small movements feel stronger than they are. you’re growing self-conscious. worrying that the others can tell what’s going on underneath your table. that they can hear your breathing change.

“buggy" you hiss a desperate warning before reaching down to detach the visitor.

“excuse me, is everything alright?” a waiter interrupts. heat overtakes your body, yet you freeze in place.

you stare at your partially eaten dinner, afraid to look at anyone with the flushed face you’re wearing. buggy’s hand gets bolder, moving against you more. clenching your jaw or biting your lip won’t stifle the sounds he’s trying to coax out. you place your free hand against your mouth and lean your elbow against the table.

buggy waits until he sees your pleading eyes, asking him to do something. or stop doing something. he opts for the first.

“we’re good! too much wine, a bit of a headache, you know how the show goes…” buggy turns on the charm, pulling the spotlight towards himself.

his fingers stroke across you slowly as he continues with his performance - talking about local ingredients, complimenting the chef, discussing the spirit selection. you can hardly follow the discussion, choosing to poke around the food on your plate instead.

unfortunately, buggy can read your body as easily as a marquee. your attention is holding on by a thread, one that he severs with a well-timed trick of his hand. electricity shoots through your body causing you to drop your fork and lean into the table.

“m’sorry. i d-don’t feel good. -’d like to go back to the ship.” you speak quickly, trying to hide your shakiness.

the waiter finally catches a glimpse of your flushed face. between your heavy breathing and odd behavior, he hurries to get you both out of the establishment.

“i hope you feel better soon and return another time” the waiter bids you both farewell before leaving your table behind, not wanting to catch whatever illness you must have.

buggy finally retrieves his rogue appendage and helps you out of your seat.

“i think i still have room for dessert,” he quips, that spark still glinting in his eyes.

(prompt list)

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy smut #buggy the clown #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut #buggy x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #hey-august buggy prompts #x reader

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oliversrarebooks · 8 months

Text

The Rare Bookseller Part 21: Jameson's Threat

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control, hypnosis, abusive language, dehumanization

"Oh, he's much too rich for me. I just wanted to take a look at him, see how the ultra-wealthy eat."

"It's nice to see such a high-quality thrall. I'll admit, I'm impressed."

"I think he'd be a bit wasted on me. The sort of thrall you only bring out when there's fancy company, if you catch my meaning."

"I'm always on the lookout for a thrall that can be trusted with household matters, and I think he'd get along well with my Daisy."

Oliver spent what seemed like an eternity being poked and examined and remarked upon by vampire after vampire, all dressed in their Sunday best (not that vampires, he supposed, went to church) and all eager to catch a glimpse of the marquee merchandise. He bowed and introduced himself and tried to make himself appealing and subservient, and every time he wavered even slightly, Miss Lily was there to quiet him. He couldn't count on Lord Alexander, and he had to be sold, or risk a worse fate. That much was more than clear to him.

He derived at least some small comfort by the fact that he was in such high demand. He'd never experienced anything like it, always being the sort of person who was small and quiet and overlooked, even as far back as grade school.

"So this garbage is what passes for a luxury thrall in this city?" The vampire was pale as a ghost, with watery brown eyes and an expensive looking suit.

Distress shot through Oliver at the growled question. "I'm -- I'm sorry, sir, if I've offended --"

"Ugh, the thing talks," he said with a look of utter disgust. "I don't know why they allow this at a high-end auction. I don't need my livestock begging for their lives."

"Many of the patrons of our auction are looking for thralls capable of handling household chores, so we always offer some with their minds intact," said Miss Lily, in a tone that didn't fully mask her annoyance. "You're welcome to look at some of our other offerings if you're interested in fully erased humans."

"All the erased here are low grade, barely fit for a gutter leech. I'm not paying good money for bad blood. I could just have this one erased after I buy him," said Lord Jameson.

No level of trance was going to keep Oliver from panicking at that. "Sir -- but --"

"Quiet," said Lord Jameson, and the word sank Oliver -- not like when Miss Lily did it, but like being pulled under quicksand, chest constricted, struggling to breathe. "You'll be erased, rendered mute and illiterate, and live in my pens, and you'll be grateful for it. Dumb cattle."

Oliver gasped for air, the room spinning around him. He thought he'd escaped that fate. He'd consoled himself that was going to end up a servant, not necessarily the life he would have chosen, but a tolerable one. He thought he'd avoided having his precious intelligence stolen from him, being turned into nothing more than an animal. He was a fool. He'd always be in that sort of danger as long as he lived among vampires.

His knees hurt. He realized the reason why a second later -- he'd hit them on the wooden floor as he'd collapsed.

"Lord Jameson, I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from traumatizing the merchandise until you've paid for it!"

"As if he --"

Oliver's head was swimming. The voices around him became muffled. He felt as if he was outside his body, watching himself faint. Then everything went black.

"Oliver. Oliver!"

His eyes snapped open. Miss Lily was pulling him to a sitting position. He looked around frantically, but --

"I saw Lord Jameson out. He's gone," she said. "Damn him! You were doing so well."

"Is he --" said Oliver, coughing, his mouth dry. "Is he going to -- is he going to buy me, sir?"

"Here. Water," said Miss Lily, offering him a cup. She rubbed his back soothingly as he drank. "He may try. I can't promise you he won't. And he is rich. But there are others interested in buying you as well."

"I'm sorry, Miss Lily, but I don't want him to -- "

"I know. I understand. Take a deep breath for me, Oliver, and be quiet."

He did as she instructed and welcomed the blankness that invaded his mind.

"Oliver, dear, look at me," she said, and her fingers were fluttering in front of his face. "Watch. Back and forth. You're so tired. Sleepy. Watch my fingers. Making you sleepy," she said in a rapid patter. "Relax. Sleepy. Back and forth. Eyes are closing. Watch my fingers. Getting sleepy. Shut your eyes. Go to sleep."

The hypnotic commands overwhelmed Oliver's already overwhelmed mind, and his eyes fell shut, his head resting on Miss Lily's shoulder.

"That's it, Oliver. Just take a little nap and you'll feel so much better. Forget about what just happened. Let it grow hazy in your mind. Sleep and forget, dear, sleep and forget."

There wasn't any real comfort here, just a vampire hypnotizing him into complacency, but even an artificial peace was better than none. He allowed his thoughts to slip, the memory of what had just occurred to dull. He curled against Miss Lily, who patted his hair with a cold hand and whispered suggestions of sleep in his ear.

"Oliver, Oliver dear, are you feeling better now?" Miss Lily's voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "I have an old friend who wants to see you. Wake up."

He rubbed at his eyes, wondering how long he'd been out for. He was still in a showroom, Miss Lily holding the chain of his handcuffs, and he wasn't... quite... sure what had just happened, only that it had been awful.

Miss Lily helped him to his feet. "Thanks for waiting, Ruth. He's normally a doll, but we ran into a little trouble with Jameson."

"Oh, it's no trouble!" The nearby vampire was wearing a well-tailored suit and had a fashionable bob cut. "Jameson also makes me wish to curl up into a ball and die, so I fully understand." The two laughed.

Lord Jameson. Yes. That had been it. He had threatened Oliver with a fate far worse than death. Thanks to Miss Lily, it seemed further away, bearable. After all, Lord Jameson was only one of several people who were interested in buying him.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Oliver said, bowing to Miss Ruth.

"How polite and dapper," Miss Ruth said. "Let me take a good look at you." She took Oliver's chin and turned it back and forth, looked him deep in the eye, then grasped his arms to have him turn around in a circle, his ball gown swishing. "Fine stock. Excellent blood. And you say he has his intelligence still?"

"Yes, his mind is well-preserved, if I do say so myself," said Miss Lily.

"Excellent." Miss Ruth had an odd gleam in her eye as she addressed Oliver. "I'm a lawyer, boy, and my thralls pull double duty as my clerks. If I buy you, I'll work you to the bone. Paperwork up to your neck, filing as far as the eye can see. You won't get that with any other vampire here. What do you think of that?"

So, effectively the opposite of Lord Jameson -- but the normal unappealing prospect of spending the rest of his life doing unpaid clerical work for a vampire seemed like paradise compared to having his mind wiped and living in an animal pen. "I'd be honored that you appreciate my intelligence, sir."

She nodded approvingly. "Good answer, boy. Let's see how well trained you are. Eyes on me. Name and date of birth."

"Oliver Pines, July 1, 1899, sir."

"What's the capital of Vermont, New York, Florida?"

"Montpelier, Albany, and uh -- Tallahassee. Sir."

"Three branches of the government."

"Legislative, executive, judicial, sir."

"Stand on one foot and hop three times."

He dutifully did so, thankful that he hadn't been given women's shoes to wear as his stockinged foot thumped on the floor. There was something strangely nice about being commanded like this, of having his simple obedience rewarded.

"Well done. Now go to sleep." She snapped near his ear, and Oliver was out like a light, caught in Miss Ruth's arms. "Awake." And he was up again, blinking.

"Yes, he'd do, he'd do quite well. I'm sure he'd easily pick up the training he needs," she said. "Shame about the price, but we'll see."

"I hope I can be of service to you, sir," said Oliver. Any option in the mix that reduced his chances of being purchased by Lord Jameson was fine by him.

Part 20 >> Masterlist >> Part 22

Thanks for reading this story of Oliver's distress.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @sl33py-pup @diamond-blade-blog @ivycloak @ladyjaye13 @irregular-book

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #mind control #vampire #vampire whumper #captivity #hypnosis #rare bookseller #oliver #lily #jameson #ruth

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blackcatrph · 9 months

Text

» ━━ BARBIE BIG CITY BIG DREAMS : LYRIC STARTERS.

lyrics taken from the barbie big city big dreams animation. please alter any pronouns when sending if needed.

“ i love the concrete jungle. ”

“ i’m a beach girl. ”

“ together we’re the best of both possible worlds. ”

“ our duo’s so dynamic. ”

“ like fire and rain, together we can set it off and make a big bang. ”

“ hey universe, look who’s coming at you. ”

“ for the first time i found my perfect match. ”

“ how did we ever survive before us ? ”

“ all i need now in my life is more us. ”

“ it’s like we’re meant to be, like destiny, so right. ”

“ i just go with the flow. ”

“ i plan out every day. ”

“ our master plan will lead us straight to broadway. ”

“ put respect on this groove. ”

“ through thick and thin. ”

“ we’ve got the brightest future. ”

“ where’ve you been? because i wish i’d met you sooner. ”

“ look and learn. ”

“ feel the burn. ”

“ just try harder. ”

“ this is tough. ”

“ tighten up. ”

“ my spirit is deflating. ”

“ my fear’s inflating. ”

“ this school is calling my bluff. ”

“ hope i have the right stuff. ”

“ remember how to be brave. ”

“ can i get out of my head ? ”

“ grind on my mind. ”

“ work it double time. ”

“ never fall a step behind. ”

“ this is what you wanted. ”

“ don’t be daunted. ”

“ just be patient and relax, cut yourself some slack. ”

“ why am i the only one who keeps scrambling and face planting ? ”

“ this is draining. ”

“ stop complaining. ”

“ i know it’s worth the trouble. ”

“ did everyone see ? ”

“ of course they saw. ”

“ pull yourself together. ”

“ practice until it’s perfect. ”

“ plant your feet. ”

“ use your core. ”

“ keep the beat. ”

“ get off the floor. ”

“ how can you even show your face ? ”

“ i’m losing my mind. ”

“ i flew in on cloud nine. ”

“ made a new best friend. ”

“ there wasn’t a question that everything would work out perfectly. ”

“ spoke too soon. ”

“ worst in the room, like a total crash landing. ”

“ i’m not going to let that keep me down. ”

“ it’s all about those good vibes. ”

“ take a look at me, so on pointe and savvy. ”

“ the whole world at my feet. ”

“ didn’t know what fear meant. ”

“ guess i’m not immune to the laws of gravity. ”

“ crutches won’t be keeping me earthbound. ”

“ is the glass half full or half empty ? ”

“ let the positivity take over. ”

“ como se dice ? let me put it this way. ”

“ chequen esto, chicas, mi visión loca. ”

“ my imagination soars. ”

“ got to spread my wings and get to higher ground. ”

“ back here again, losing a friend. ”

“ i thought i was strong, but i’m reeling. ”

“ this time felt different, our connection was instant. ”

“ that was pure magical thinking. ”

“ just move on from the pain. ”

“ soon it’ll fade like a memory. ”

“ you’ll start over again. ”

“ evolving from this fateful origin story. ”

“ a chariot streaks across the sky so majestically. ”

“ two girls on an odyssey in the city that never sleeps. ”

“ riding high on a merry go round of modern mythology. ”

“ discovered a new part of me in a fated friend. ”

“ i knew finding you would be an epic journey with no end. ”

“ you can’t see shooting stars in the city of marquee lights. ”

“ fate brough us together then tore us apart. ”

“ i wish i could go back and restart. ”

“ i’ll race across the sky to a work where dreams and friendships aren’t destined to collide. ”

“ stranded on this lonely island. ”

“ great beginnings don’t get happy endings. ”

“ glorious mythologies can slip out of your reach. ”

“ in reality, best friends leave. ”

“ you’re my fiercest competition. ”

“ we’re best friends, no contradiction. ”

“ never let jealousy get in our way. ”

“ help each other up. ”

“ you set the bar, i’ll raise it. ”

“ you won’t catch me holding back. ”

“ why should our drive divide us ? ”

“ let’s let our strength unite us. ”

“ i’ve still got your back. ”

“ see you at the finish line. ”

“ when you need the strength to clear it, i’m gonna be there cheering. ”

“ i’m never leaving you behind. ”

“ if you stumble, just keep your fight on. ”

“ follow my voice to my arms. ”

“ we’re going hard and we’re going together. ”

“ we know what we want. ”

“ we’re giving up never. ”

“ we were born to show the world just who the boss is. ”

“ stopping more traffic than midtown rush hour. ”

“ you know we’re doing it right. ”

“ lean on my shoulder. ”

“ we’ve got each other, that’s the way it’ll always be. ”

“ bank on our future, it’s gold. ”

“ we’ll wake up with our names in lights. ”

#ask meme #rp ask prompts #rp meme #rp prompt #rp memes #rp ask memes #rp starter meme #starter meme #rp meme starter #rp sentence starters #barbie rp meme #rp lyric meme #lyric rp meme #lyrical meme #help this is so fruity

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 3 months

Note

I was wondering if you could do a part to to Jack x male sherlocks homers reader in where jack remembers in how they met each other one day or night.

both of them go on a date to celebrate their [any number] Anniversary or their marriage together. In which Reader surprises jack with a picnic or dinner or a night out to play that is being held that he really really wanted to go to. In which male reader bough tickets for.

-The first time you met with your now husband was…unusual. You had been called to investigate a fire that seemed suspicious, and it was discovered that the building was a front for a trafficking ring, one that police had been trying to bust for months!

-The individuals were all safe, have been evacuated by someone else, someone unknown, before those running the ring had been slaughtered and the building set on fire.

-You saw a man watching from around the corner and he was watching the other officers and people helping those who had been rescued, and you spoke, “Hello there, could I ask you some questions!”

-He nearly leapt out of his skin, looking almost like a cat, as you had managed to sneak up on him, and he went to run, but your colors… they were so bright, so vibrant- you were a work of art, inside and out.

-When he didn’t respond you lifted one eyebrow before waving your hand in front of his face and his hands shot up, grabbing your hand between his own, “You’re beautiful!”

-The both of you had turned so red, unable to move as you both realized what had happened.

-Looking back on it now, five years later and two years married, it still brought a smile to your face while it still made Jack flush when you would poke fun at him, much to his dismay.

-You couldn’t believe it, looking over at Jack who was reading the paper nearby, sipping on his tea, a fond smile on your lips as you admired your husband.

-Jack felt your eyes and a smile slowly grew on his lips, “You’re staring again~” you chuckled, not bothered at all, “Just admiring my handsome husband~” Jack turned his head away from you, faking a cough but you saw his ears were bright red.

-You and Jack were relaxing for a while before your big date, something he still didn’t know what you had planned, other than he needed to dress nice, “May I know of your masterful plan yet?”

-You chuckled softly, lifting your own teacup to your lips, taking a sip, “No you may not. It’s part of the surprise. Speaking of- we should start getting ready.”

-Jack looked at the clock before he finished his tea and followed you to the bedroom where your outfits for the evening were both laid out, prepared.

-About an hour later, Jack was holding onto your hand, staring wide eyed up at the theatre where others were going in, the marquee reading the title of his favorite play, one that he could never get tickets to, “You didn’t! How?”

-You flashed him the two tickets, a grin on your lips, “I have a lot of people who owed me favors. When I heard that it was coming to town, I was able to get our tickets before they even went on sale.”

-The elation on Jack’s face made you feel so warm as you smiled back at him before you headed inside, going to a quiet balcony to watch it in private.

-As the curtains lifted and the lights dimmed, you leaned over and pecked his cheek, “Happy anniversary my husband, and to many more.” He smiled softly, stroking your cheek with his gloved hand, pecking your lips, “And to eternity.” You chuckled softly before your attention went to the play and enjoyed your time together.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror jack the ripper

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chronicrabbit · 1 year

Text

Home Coming

Part 1

Thinking of Steve Harrington, post season one beat-down and Demogorgon encounter, returning to his house to see the rare sight of his mothers car parked in the driveway.

He only hesitates for a moment before he walks in, spotting his mother at the dining table.

She looked so out of place, unnatural, back ramrod straight and legs crossed at the knee in a chair she’d picked out herself but had never broken in.

She was pretending to read her crisp, - unopened-, copy of Jane Eyre, the spine creaking too loudly with every page turn.

Her expression was pinched in the way it got when she had something to say, some reprimand she was doing her best to puzzle through, words rearranging for maximum devastation upon delivery.

That was her specialty, after all. Words of harsh judgment disguised as concern.

She finally glanced up when he’d been staring for long enough, smoothing her immaculately styled hair down with freshly manicured nails as she fixed him with a look that made him wish he’d stayed at the hospital.

“Where’s dad?” he tried for casual, apparently missing by a mile.

“Steven,” she spoke cooly, rose painted lips downturned, blue eyes boring into him like tent spikes.

He straightened.

“Your father received a call from Officer Callahan. Would you care to explain?”

Steve tried to stay still; tried not to shift or shuffle nervously on his feet.

He knew his mother hated that.

“I…” he cleared his throat, still scratchy from screaming, though it’d been hours since the last time he had.

He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.

This was his mother, after all, not an interdimensional monster.

“It was my fault.”

One perfectly plucked eyebrow rose, the small simple gesture communicating more than words ever could.

It was a clear and unarguable “go on”.

So he did.

He told almost the full story; spotting Nancy with Jonathan, Tommy’s little art piece on the cinema marquee, the fight.

He stopped at arriving to the Byers’ place to apologise, the words catching in his throat like Laffy Taffy in molars as she raised a hand, her lips pressed into a thin pale line.

The displeasure roiled off of her in waves.

“So,” she started, pulling the ribbon attached to the spine of the book in between the crisp, too-white pages to hold her place, though he was absolutely certain she wouldn’t be picking it up again.

She glanced up at him, large blue eyes scanning his face, flitting over the evidence of his fight.

He could fool himself into believing she was concerned, worried, even.

But then she’d spoken again, and all those thoughts were undoubtedly dashed.

“You‘ll take full responsibility for this?”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he flinched as a newly formed scab pulled at the throbbing skin above his eye, threatening to bleed once more.

“I… what?”

His mother huffed, adjusting the collar of her soft pink blouse, smoothing out invisible wrinkles.

“The marquee, Steven. Dean Hughs said it was stained and that he expected money for a new one.”

Steve’s stomach dropped.

“Oh…” he let out weakly, ignoring the burn of his scraped up knuckles as he shoved his hands in his pockets, the ache in his head that’d been persistent since Jonathan had clocked him, the heat of tears prickling behind his eyes, threatening to spill.

“Since you admit to your part in it, we’ll be taking the money from your allowance. The Hagan’s are doing the same with Tommy.”

Steve found himself nodding, though it felt like his head was underwater.

“I expect you to apologise to your father when he gets home,” she continued with that same cold and impersonal tone he’d grown to expect.

To dread.

“You have no idea how embarrassing it was to be the last to find out about your little brush with vandalism. I mean, really Steven? We leave for a month, and you’re already falling into delinquency? Next we hear you’ve been hanging around the trailer park with the rest of the flea bitten trash, like the Curtis’s, or, Heaven forbid, that Munson boy-“

Steve tuned out his mother, his shoulders sagging, his heart sinking, his eyes stinging.

She hadn’t even asked him if he was ok.

She hadn’t said a word about the blood that stained his shirt, the bruises and cuts pounded into his flesh, the unsteadiness of his hands.

She didn’t seem to notice the nervous set of his shoulders, the bags under his eyes, the brand new terror etched into his very being.

She didn’t care.

And he should’ve known, really.

After a lifetime of criticism, of admonition instead of praise, of:

“Steven, stop ruining your brand new pants!”

Instead of

“Great job on that home run!”

“You can do better.”

Instead of

“Thank you for trying.”

He wanted to run.

He had nowhere to go, so he stayed and waited out his mothers rant with his head bowed and his eyes damp.

When she had finally finished, she sat back in the chair and sighed as if her speech had taken it out of her; as if she were the one who was hurting.

She let her eyes sweep over him once more, her regal nose scrunching in distaste at his less than perfect appearance.

“Get cleaned up and throw away those ruined clothes. And if I see any stains in my couch or on my hardwood, you’ll be grounded for a week.”

With that, she waved her hand to dismiss him and turned back to her book, not opening it, just staring at its unblemished cover with a complete lack of interest.

A painfully familiar expression.

Steve did as he was told.

He grabbed the first aid kit, a bit understocked from the time he’d injured himself at basketball practice two months prior, and did what he could to treat his own wounds.

After, he sat alone in his bedroom, lights on, window open, spiked bat resting at his bedside within reach.

He pinched at the bridge of his nose; tried not to cry.

Harringtons didn’t cry.

He thought about the Byers; about Ms. Byers allowing the entire town to think she’d gone insane in her efforts to recover her son.

He thought about Jonathan, and how goddamn lucky he was to have a mom like that.

One who didn’t care about her reputation, her spotless image. One who loved wholeheartedly and unselfishly.

One who would see his pain and embrace him, wipe away his tears and ask if he was alright.

He thought of Nancy.

Maybe he could call her?

He glanced to the clock radio on his nightstand.

03:30 AM.

It was no good.

He didn’t fall asleep that night, every creak of a floorboard or shift in the air sending him into high alert.

He wrapped himself in his blanket, one hand out and resting on the handle of his bat, and thought:

“At least I’m not alone.”

#steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #Part One #I have too many feelings #steddie ficlet #steveddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things fanfiction

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interlagosed · 4 months

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u wrote a headcannon a while ago about carlando using restraints and mentioned u thought they would mostly use it on carlos. i was wondering if u would perhaps like to elaborate on that 👀

i would LOVE to elaborate. here's a "deleted scene" from TSOR epilogue, building on this excerpt:

What no one said, because no one present wanted to recount it, was that after the princes left the duke’s audience chamber, Prince Carlos fell to his knees at a single word from Prince Lando; that Prince Lando pressed his fingers to Prince Carlos’ lips; and that Prince Carlos took Prince Lando’s fingers into his mouth while Prince Lando stroked his hair and whispered something unintelligible to him.

What no one said, because no one was present to see it, was that when the princes returned to their marquee, it was Prince Carlos who begged - after a long night of being teased, held at length, made distraught from Prince Lando withholding himself, voice raw, wrists raw from being tied together - to be inside Prince Lando.

"Is it too tight?"

Carlos could barely respond. Every part of his body was tense, every muscle taut, straining—not against the rope wrapped around his wrists and ankles, but against every impulse pressing him to rip free of his restraints, press his husband to the ground, fuck him the way he deserved to be fucked.

But no. He couldn't. Not when Lando was looking at him so, with command in his eyes, resolve in his body, every inch the prince that Carlos had sworn his life to. When Lando looked like this, it did not matter to Carlos that he, too, was a prince.

Blood be damned. Before he was anything else, he was Lando's.

So he shook his head, and Lando smiled and tightened the rope. Carlos groaned softly; it was digging into his skin, but he knew he could still untie himself if he needed to. But the groan, the steel of his cock, came from the fact of Lando restraining him.

"Are you going to be good for me?" Lando whispered, pressing his thumb to Carlos' lip. In response, Carlos opened his mouth, let the pad of Lando's thumb linger on his tongue. This was a far cry from their usual roles: how many times had Carlos had his fingers in Lando's throat, watching Lando's eyes stream as he choked so beautifully?

"Good," Lando said. He turned his back to Carlos, and Carlos shuddered. They were in their tent. The night air was cold. And Carlos was quite nude, save for the hempen rope.

"What is your plan for me?" Carlos asked, his voice dry already.

Lando did not look at Carlos as he answered. And he took his time answering. Carlos watched Lando shrug off his jerkin. He heard the rustle of silk, admired Lando's shoulders, his back, as he revealed himself to his husband's hungry gaze. Divinidad, his body: lithe but muscular. Carlos was desperate to touch him.

"I want to see something," Lando said. Carlos shuffled on the carpet; his knees would be raw from his writhing, but he could not bring himself to care. He thought of something Lando said to him, once:

I intend to get on my knees for you in more hostile environments.

Well. So did Carlos.

Lando shimmied his breeches down, looking back at Carlos over his shoulder as he did. He smiled, his eyes bright with challenge.

"We made a big show of your obedience. But you won't last. And I want to see how long before you break your bonds, Prince Carlos."

His breeches slid down his legs, and Carlos took a deep, heavy breath. Lando's legs, his buttocks, the jewel between them, the—

The jewel between them.

Carlos stared, his cock straining even more so. Sure enough, a dainty sapphire—sapphire—protruded so slightly, and Lando spread himself for Carlos' appraisal. Carlos had to imagine the look on his was a hungry one, because he say Lando's cheeks color slightly even as he said, defense in his voice, "You don't know the embarrassment I went through to acquire this."

"I want to fuck you."

Lando's cheeks reddened even more. Carlos barely comprehended his own speech. He tested his restraints: yes, he could get out. He could pull himself free, rush to Lando, press him against the maps on the table and fuck him like a man possessed.

"I thought you well-behaved," Lando said, simply, and Carlos put the idea out of his head.

"Anything for you," he whispered instead. "Anything. Fuck. You are fucking perfect."

Lando grinned again. There was a hearth in their tent, lush carpets before it, and Lando walked to the carpets and reclined against the pillows there. Cheek against one palm, propped on an elbow, other hand rested on his hip, he looked like–

No one. No one was like Lando. And the circlet in his hair, the regalness of his bearing, was incongruous against what Carlos knew Lando would do. So Carlos steeled himself, and Lando, a halo of flame around his silhouette, reached back and tugged the jewel. He moaned, "Carlos," soft, sharp, and perfect.

As Carlos watched Lando's cock harden, he tested the rope again. Yes, he could break free—and he would when Lando asked for him. But he would let the rope burn his wrists than disappoint his husband.

He was, after all, obedient.

#hibi answers #hibi writes #tsor #hibi holikinks #not proofread!

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doomandgloomfromthetomb · 2 months

Text

Patti Smith Group / John Cale / Television - The Palladium, New York City, December 31, 1976

I finally got around to Sonic Life, Thurston Moore's recent memoir, this month! You can read a few of my quick thoughts about it (along with some other nice recommendations) in the latest edition of the Aquarium Drunkard Book Club. As I mention, I was a little surprised at how much I enjoyed Thurston's memories of his teenage years, way before Sonic Youth was even a twinkle in his eye — A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Fan? From the suburbs of Connecticut, Moore made countless trips into NYC to soak in the punk/CBGB/Max's worlds, catching shows by The Ramones, Suicide, the Dead Boys, Sid Vicious ... and Patti Smith, of course.

Thurston paints an evocative portrait of this New Year's Eve blowout, which doubled as Patti's raucous 30th birthday party. He was dangerously high on mescaline.

"We zombied our way down the street to the Palladium and found our seats, and I sat in a state of tenuous control as Television arrived onstage. I figured if I just maintained my cool, the mescaline's threat of wiping out my sanity would begin to subside and all would be okay. 'A song by Dylan' — were the only words I remember Tom Verlaine saying to the audience as the band began to play a plaintive cover of 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door.' By the time John Cale and his group came onstage, I felt as though I were sliding slowly down the side of a porcelain sink, managing only the barest of friction, my reality threatening to fall into a drain hole never to return. I was gripped by the fear of losing myself completely, another entry on the list of acid casualties. I concentrated on specific thoughts, pinpricks of salvation that I'd cling to, slip from, then hold on to again. I feared that if I closed my eyes, I would be forever vanquished."

Happy new year?! All these decades later we can enjoy the Palladium gig via dusty audience tapes — your call if you want to drop a tab of mescaline while you listen. Interesting to hear Television at this point, with Marquee Moon more or less in the can, playing a much larger venue than ever before. They'd just finished several nights in a row at CB's — which is maybe that's why they sound a littttttle bit tired. But there's plenty of sweet stuff, of course, including a truly go-for-broke "Kingdom Come." Billy Ficca, baby! Cale, meanwhile, happily provides a bad trip soundtrack for Thurston's bad trip — a short but powerful set highlighted by a maniacal "Guts" and an even more maniacal "Fear Is A Man's Best Friend." That guy sure could scream.

And what about the belle of the ball — Patti herself? Let's hand it back to Thurston, who had recovered a bit by the start of her set. Here, he describes the all-star finale with Fred "Sonic" Smith joining the melee.

"Fred and Patti had become an item. Now here was Fred onstage, unassuming and spectral, as Patti howled and whirled. With 'My Generation' culminating in obligatory destruction, all players would eventually leave the stage except for the two Smiths. Like Fred, Patti had a Fender Duo-Sonic strapped on, and she leaned her head on her sweetheart's shoulder as both their guitars emitted a whistling-bird noise of feedback through the amps. How this translated to everyone around me, I couldn't say. For me, it was an emblematic vision of all I would ever desire from rock 'n' roll — transcendence, devotion, sonic love."

#patti smith #television #john cale #thurston moore

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scoops-aboy86 · 1 month

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not to add to your wip's but... Eddie saying this to Steve as he watches him cook breakfast on their six month anniversary https://www.tumblr.com/heavyheavycream/735906040127930368/small-dialogue-i-thought-would-be-cute?source=share :)

Oh you. (I'm not complaining, this gave me something to do on a three hour flight. 😋)

Ugh, this turned out so domestic and sweet that I'm getting a toothache.

❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐❤️🥞🫐

Eddie has never been in a relationship where he got to celebrate anniversaries before. Hell, he’s never been in a relationship before, full-stop, let alone a long term one.

Steve has, but he always points out that it wasn’t exactly a successful one—whatever was between him and Nancy to start with had started its emergency descent the night Barb died, or maybe the afternoon he’d stood back and let Tommy H. spray paint slut on a movie theater marquee. Either way, he’d missed the memo and never assumed a crash position, and that had been one hell of a thump on the head.

And Eddie knows this. He knows that bullshit eroded a lot of Steve’s confidence in keeping someone interested long term, not helped by the way his parents seem to have forgotten they have a son and a home in Hawkins. He and Steve have talked about it, just like he’s admitted his worries that he’s only ever a temporary attraction, a warm willing hand or mouth, or a hard dick, good only for back alley or bar bathroom lust. He’s had some grimy one night stands that never moved on from standing and lasted less than ten minutes, and on some level he’d likened that to his mom dying (leaving him) when he was still little and his dad’s short attention span for anything that wasn’t shiny and easy to pawn.

They’re both damaged goods, is the thing; they even have enough scars to prove it to any casual observer at a quick glance. And everyone has always taken one look at Eddie Munson and thought they knew exactly what he was: poor, abandoned, trailer trash, nerd, metalhead, super senior, cult leader, trouble.

But he wakes up and rolls over, stretching and yawning, to find a note on Steve’s side of their shaded bed, right on the pillow that still smells of expensive shampoo, and it reads, Happy 6 month Anniverasry Eds!

It makes Eddie feel warm all over, spelling error and all. So loved, that Steve never lets his runaway imagination get the mistaken idea that his boyfriend is gone gone.

He continues stretching, going lazily through the morning routine that will help keep his right leg from cramping up the way it’s prone to doing now. Luxuriates in rolling around without restriction, arching his back up from the mattress and letting out a little moan as his spine pops a little, because it feels satisfying. An outward (inward?) echo of how his life has fallen into place since the Upside Down. First a free man, then a high school graduate, an honest to god boyfriend, and now gainfully employed at a record shop. It’s not glamorous, but he doesn’t need glamor anymore. Rock star life doesn’t hold the same appeal now that he’s been in the worst kind of spotlight, and as a taken man the only other appeal would be the freer access to hard drugs, which… pass. He’s retired his old metal lunch box, except to house his personal weed stash.

Speaking of, he sits up and looks around for it only to find a joint already rolled and waiting for him on the nightstand. He recognizes Steve’s handiwork with a smile, and takes it up along with the lighter waiting beside it to hit the green.

It’s gonna be a good day.

He feels nice and loose by the time he leaves the bedroom, barefoot and clad in boxers and a faded crop top that’s seen better days. His stomach rumbles and he gives it an absent pat, scratching idly beneath where it curves out more and more these days as he shuffles down the hall to the kitchen where he can already hear Steve singing a Tears for Fears song.

“—Don’t take my heart don’t break my heart don’t, don’t, don’t da da da da…”

Eddie takes a seat on one of the tall chairs along the outer counter that separates the kitchen proper from their second hand breakfast table. He knows that Steve notices the scrape of it against the linoleum because he perks up, not turning yet because he’s alternating between flipping fried eggs and pancakes in different pans on the stove, reaching over them to give the third pan of bacon on one of the back burners a shake to make sure it isn’t sticking. The fourth burner is occupied by a lidded pot with steam leaking faintly around the edges, likely some sort of berry topping for the pancakes, because Eddie likes to drown his in more than just syrup and melted butter.

And, frankly, Steve likes to spoil him. It shows in the way Eddie’s arm spreads a little where it rests on top of the open counter shelf and pushes his softened pec up to a rounded curve at the stretched collar of his top, and the way his belly plops onto the countertop below when he leans forward. His thick thighs have sent the legs of his boxers riding up again, pushed to kiss the waistband where it’s been rolled in the opposite direction by the weight of his midsection. He knows that his ass is spreading on the vinyl seat and will make a noise whenever he stands up, and that he’s developed some serious love handles and back rolls. Who the fuck cares about that, though, when his man is cooking him a mouthwatering spread for breakfast and humming a dumb pop song about being head over fucking heels? Eddie props his other arm on the shelf and his cheek on one hand, swinging his legs contentedly and enjoying the way it makes parts of him wobble with the motion.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Steve calls over his shoulder, and Eddie chuckles indulgently at how dorky it is, keeps kicking his feet.

“A feast, by the looks of it, Stevie,” he teases. “Did you invite anyone else to our special anniversary breakfast without telling me?”

“I didn’t even invite you, nerd,” comes the retort. “You were supposed to still be in bed so I could bring it to you and feed you there.”

Eddie smirks. “What can I say, baby. I got hungry. Got the little gift you wrapped for me, though… smoked it all up, hope you didn’t want any.”

“That’s alright,” Steve says, and flips a perfectly golden pancake onto an already stacked plate with a grace born of practice. “I knew you wouldn’t leave leftovers.”

“Damn right,” Eddie murmurs, ogling both the food and Steve’s perfect pert ass in white briefs. It’s nothing compared to his own these days, but he’s quite partial to it. Could make a feast of it in fact, and has. But that’s not what this morning is about.

Steve must feel his gaze, because he wiggles his hips enticingly before sliding the eggs out onto another plate, piling the bacon on next to and a little on top of them. A third plate has a stack of pre-buttered toast, and Eddie licks his lips at all of the above as Steve takes the lid off the pot and ladles a thick, sticky substance over both toast and pancakes—smells like blueberries today. Of course it is; blueberries are Eddie’s favorite.

His empty belly gives an anticipatory rumble.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie says, licking his lips. “You remember our first night together?”

And oh, what a night that had been. Back when Eddie had still been thin as a rail, thinner than usual after his near death experience and still fresh off a hospital discharge. All pent up from a long stretch of heated fantasies about what Steve sticking by his bedside almost constantly could mean. So of course Steve had been the one to drive him home, since Wayne had run out of time off from the plant. Of course Steve had stayed to keep him company, and Eddie had suggested they smoke up because he had to do something to keep from getting all in his own head about it, and Steve had agreed and then kept watching him with those eyes. Fuck, a guy could drown in those things, and Eddie had, and then Steve had kissed him and whispered wonderful things. And Eddie had thought, Okay, at least I get to live the dream for a bit, then life’ll go back to normal once I fall asleep and he takes off.

“Yeah,” Steve says now, turning off the burners and turning to face Eddie with a tender look on his face. The same one Eddie had first seen upon waking six months earlier to find he’d been wrong, that Steve hadn’t left after all.

Eddie favors him with a slow smile. “Remember the next morning, when you told me that food was your love-language?”

“Yeah, I remember.” A hint of red warms Steve’s cheeks, and he starts picking up the plates. There are only three this time, but he can stack two on each arm when he needs to, Eddie’s seen him do it. His man is so capable, it’s really such a fucking turn-on. “Why?”

Smile turned up to full-on dimples now, Eddie leans forward just a little bit more. Puts the full heft of himself even more on display because he knows Steve loves it, loves how soft and insatiable he’s become, outsides matching how he’s always felt about Hawkins’ golden boy on the inside. “Because, baby… I feel very loved right now.”

Steve’s laugh is delighted, giddy, perfect. He shoos Eddie down the hall back to the bedroom of their new apartment, following with the food that means I love Eddie Munson even though neither of them has officially said it yet. They’re still both a bit broken, a bit fragile, but healing.

It’s the first major relationship milestone Eddie has ever gotten to celebrate, and it’s sweeter than syrup mixed with homemade blueberry compote.

#scoops words #wg steddie #hotluncheddie #ask #chubby eddie munson #sweet chubby domestic fluff

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