#she’s just a gal… and i like rolling her around with ideas >_<

[ectoplasmer]

peculiar at both angles (otherwise known as the usual staring contest)

(she usually never wins ;) )

[sp0o0kylights]

"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch. 

"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into  his annual “anti-valentines day” rant. 

Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.

Directly in front of Patrick.

As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school. 

Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his. 

He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as  if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.” 

A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted. 

Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list. 

Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out. 

"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder. 

A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.

 Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it. 

"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once." 

Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans. 

If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…

That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day. 

("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"  

He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts. 

"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first. 

“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned. 

"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.

Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"

Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit. 

Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute. 

Not in the way he used to. 

"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer." 

Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy. 

Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry. 

He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.

Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental. 

“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.

Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well. 

It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful. 

“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.” 

“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”

There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.  

Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information. 

“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )  

"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present.  “I bet none of you even enjoy it!” 

"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”

Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.  

Except his team had already proven they didn’t. 

Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was. 

They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.

He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted. 

Emphasis on ‘if.’ 

Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much. 

So said Carol, anyway. 

"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!" 

Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved. 

Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)

Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.

Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore. 

It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction. 

Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself. 

(Like that had ever been a good idea.)

“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!” 

Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice. 

Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it. 

The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit? 

It wasn’t Tommy’s style.

It was Hargrove’s.

(That was its own growing issue. 

The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy. 

How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to. 

That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.” 

Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.) 

“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!” 

Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards. 

“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!” 

Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control. 

All he wanted to do was go home. 

Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else. 

He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.

…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve. 

“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”

He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul. 

“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.” 

The world stopped. 

This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off. 

(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.) 

Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him. 

Just as the entire cafeteria was. 

The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson. 

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done. 

With his so called friends, with  the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything. 

He was over it. 

If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it. 

(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.) 

“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it. 

He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down. 

“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.

“Shut up.” He snapped. 

Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.  

King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up. 

“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”  

“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him. 

 “For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”

Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.

He didn’t need to. Had never needed to. 

“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”

In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball. 

“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”  

Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it  landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet. 

Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time. 

Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.

Presently? 

He just felt tired. 

“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.  

The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just  shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them. 

Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway. 

Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.

“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks. 

They were ignored. 

Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up. 

“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm.  “You’re not fucking better than any of us!” 

Steve didn’t even look back. 

"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.” 

Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight. 

xXx

He didn’t want to go home.

Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.  

Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.

All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang. 

So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year. 

Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new. 

Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…

He did not.

It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday. 

Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech. 

So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered. 

Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.

At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson. 

Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned. 

“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.” 

Steve just stared at him.

“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.” 

Or any day, for the foreseeable future. 

“Yeah no--I, I got that.  I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.” 

“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time. 

Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say. 

“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.

Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track. 

“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.” 

He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately. 

“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what. 

Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into. 

Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both. 

Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed. 

 “I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere. 

"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"

Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!” 

Then immediately; 

“Actually yes, but--”  

Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough. 

“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right." 

“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either. 

Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station. 

"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions. 

“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!” 

“Tommy did what?” 

Steve was promptly ignored. 

(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.) 

There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.) 

“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.” 

Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself. 

“So here I am. Apologizing.” 

A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.” 

“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”

“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.”  Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock. 

It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down. 

“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.” 

Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least. 

Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.  

“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh. 

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.

“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.” 

“Yeah?” 

Eddie grinned. 

“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.” 

“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.

That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face. 

“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”  

“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.” 

“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!” 

“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening. 

Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!” 

Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face. 

He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen. 

“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.” 

Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required. 

“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?” 

Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous. 

“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.” 

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?” 

He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response. 

It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.

(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things. 

One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg. 

 Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor. 

“Steve.”

Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.

The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out. 

Except--

“Not right now I’m thinking.”  Steve told him absently. 

Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing. 

Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…

“The fuck? Steve--”

Steve shushed him. 

That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up. 

“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.

Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted. 

“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.” 

“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise. 

“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.

That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.

“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his. 

For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk. 

“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that. 

“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”

Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze. 

Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat. 

He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back. 

“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…” 

One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley. 

In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing. 

“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?” 

Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly. 

“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. ) 

[pedge-page]

Candles

Part 5 to Best Man Series. follow Christmas Party.

Joel Miller x F!Reader, Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Summary: It's Tommy's birthday. So why are you still looking for Joel to celebrate it?

notes: Its been 4 months but here's the next part for those of you still waiting on since December! The next part will most likely be the finale.

Warnings: unprotected sex (with Tommy), infidelity / cheating, pregnant reader, toy usage, dildo riding, breeding kink, oral m!receiving (with Joel), m!masturbation, short voyeurism, vaginal fingering, cum eating, jealous!Joel, emotions are FLLYYINNGGG in this one

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous. 

He’s at home, drifting off in thought as his hands do poor work on wrapping paper around the new pair of shoes and watch that he picked out. When Sarah, who’s focus is on brushing her doll’s hair and changing her bathing suit, starts yapping about how Uncle Tommy's kid is gonna be her best friend since she doesn't have any siblings to play with right now, all Joel can think about is you and Tommy together right now on his special day. 

What would it be like, waking up to you in a shared bed every day? To be the first to kiss you, smell your morning breath and sift his fingers through your bed head? To see your eyes shine from the sun reflecting off of them, twinkling with the buildup of a tear after a yawn.

What would it be like, getting a birthday blow job from you first thing in the morning? Even if you aren’t his wife, he’s thought about getting to have you all the time, just for him. He doesn’t get jealous of Tommy very often, because Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous, but he tuts at the idea that your mouth wrapped around his cock is a sight he gets to behold more often than Joel ever will. 

What would it be like, to not have to sneak around? To just have you loudly, unashamed, sloppily, proudly, the way you deserve, without constantly checking behind your back? To capture your lips in front of everyone like it were normal, to hold your pregnant belly like it was his, because damnit it might as well be.

It drives him insane he can’t mark you up the way Tommy can, less the two of you be caught in your affair. All he can do is pound you better, ruin you some more, and fill you with his seed. 

As if the last one hadn’t already reared its consequences in your growing belly. You’re too beautiful, too full of something special to be kept to one guy.

Still. He’ll only ever be second to Tommy.

What would it be like … to call you his?

“Dad…Dad!”

“What!”

Joel looks down at Sarah who’s got her hands on her hips and a stern look about her face.

Jesus, she really does spend too much time with me.

“The door,” she repeats, pointing downstairs. On cue, the doorbell chimes again.

He grunts as he lifts himself to his feet, brushing her head messily with his big palm before hopping down to answer.

It’s his dad.

“How old ya gotta be to leave your old man standin’ outside in the cold?”

Joel rolls his eyes, shifting to allow his father through the front. “It’s 79 degrees out.”

“Cold for my old bones,” he groans, feinting a shiver. “Share-Bear!”

Sarah bulldozers straight to his abdomen and wraps her arms in a big hug. 

Joel lightly tugs on one of her curly strands and she yelps “ow!”

“Go upstairs and get changed.”

She barrels upstairs to her room, leaving Joel and Miller senior. 

Joel continues tossing a bunch of tape on to the sad excuse of a gift before crinkling all the paper up and tossing it. He moves to search for a gift bag in the closet instead.

His dad sighs loudly. “Tommy sure got a nice beat goin’ for ‘im.”

“Sure does,” Joel notes, his attention more on the shoving past the vacuum.

“Good house, good job, kid on the way. A pretty gal.”

Joel closes the closet and turns towards his dad. “What’s your point, pops?”

“You know my point. He’s got it all together. You...”

“Me what? You don’t think I ain’t doin good on my own?”

“You shouldn’t have to be on your own. Sarah’s mom wasn’t...we knew she wasn’t gonna stick around. Its tough havin’ a kid to raise by yourself—“

“I wouldn’t trade my babygirl in for anything else in the world,” Joel snaps quickly. His eyes dart upstairs briefly. Its a conversation he hates when his dad brings up, especially when Sarah could just be lurking around the corner.

“Im not sayin’ that but.” Grandpa Miller shakes his head and takes a seat at the island. “Kid needs a mom. You need a woman. Someone to hold and kiss and make promises to. Someone to love.”

Joel drops the now filled bag on the countertop. I have that already. It’s just—complicated. “There a reason you stopped by? Other than to lecture me?”

His father grunts apathetically. “Just came by for some wrapping paper, but by the looks of it—“ He glances at Joel’s empty tape roll and bunched up pile of ribboned paper—“Guess I’ll go down to the store to get some.”

“Well you know where the door is.”

His dad follows Joel to his open front door to show him out. One aging father and one rapidly aging eldest son look at each other with a sense of sadness.

“Joel—“

“I’ll see you at Tommy’s.”

-

If you weren’t so pregnant, waking up before Tommy would have been so much easier to give him a blow job.

Instead. It’s half past 9, and you’re just rousing to consciousness. Fully well knowing Tommy has probably been awake for at least an hour but faking it just so he can wake up with you.

“Good morning birthday boy,” you grumble groggily, a soft smile spreading across your cheeks as you pull him in for a peck.

He grins and wraps himself around you. “Mmm Good Morning, little Momma. Ya know what I want for my birthday?”

You did know. He dropped hints like crazy and you already had it ready to go by your nightstand.

The thing about Tommy is…Tommy likes watching. It’s something you figured out when you were already dating after a year. Something about watching you touch yourself, spreading your legs on the bed and fucking yourself with a dildo, or grinding on his pillow and moaning as he stroked his cock from across the room, has him leaking in his palm with dirty words of encouragement.

And even with a hefty baby in your belly, his view of you bouncing on top of the sizable dildo was no different.

“Fuck, fuck that’s it angel. Takin’ that dick so good. Bet it feels good, huh?” He grips his balls with his palm while the other fists over his dick. Sitting upright in your makeup chair, fully naked and facing the bed, he gets a view of everything. His hungry eyes never once leave your body.

You nod. Your knees hurt, but the sight of Tommy’’s heart shaped eyes watching your milky breasts bounce, your lips spread to accomodate the girth of the silicon cock has you smiling for your deserving husband.

“It’s—not as easy with the bump…” you say fretfully. You feel like shit, not being able to give him the show that he wanted on his birthday. It’s a lot more difficult to angel and thrust a stick into you when there’s a planet blocking your view.

Tommy hoists himself up quickly, jerking his cock as he approaches you. He tosses the dildo and crawls over you before veiny hands caress along your hips, over your belly and squeezing your tits. “S’okay, little Momma. ‘m’here now. Daddy’s gonna make it better.”

You grasp his face with both hands and grin, pulling his lips to yours. At the same time, he slides his leaking member into your folds, forcing a grunt in the back of both of your throats as he bottoms out.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” he growls, fucking you steadily with deep strokes. “I get my one birthday wish today. Thinking’ I’m gonna leave a little present in this pussy. Have ya walk around all day with a lil bit of me inside.”

You laugh and gently tap your belly. “There’s a bit more than a ‘little’ bit of you inside me already.”

His stomach rumbles with a a chuckle. “That’s for everyone else to know who ya belong to. Nah, I’m talkin something just between you n me.” His arm holds himself above you as he rocks his hips with shallow ruts. “Shit, shit, ya gonna take it f’me? Gonna take my present on my fuckin’ birthday?”

You let out a high pitched whine, neck convulsing backwards as your cunt starts tightening around his length. 

Tommy locks your lips to his, tongue’s messily rolling into one another’s mouth. A string of saliva connect between the two of you when he pulls away, only for him to rub it against your breast.

“Tommy,” you moan desperately. You’re close, you’re about to tell him so: “I—“

“I love you,” he rasps. His eyes are shut tight as he finds that sweet spot inside, sending you over the edge before you can finish your thought.

 He thrusts a few more times before stilling. His balls twitch with satisfaction, each grunt from his chest echoing the spurts of his seed inside you. He feels at peace when he can be this close to you, his hand warm against your tight tummy and his soon-to-be kids.

His soon to be complete family.

His words rattle in your ears. You feel the opposite of light and airy after an orgasm. No, everything is heavy. Your head feels like a boulder stuck to the pillow. Yet empty. Your body so full yet feeling incredibly hollow right now. 

Tommy kisses your lips once more, not noticing the way you don't return the vervor. He sits up, wipes the sweat from his brows and slaps your thigh.

“You okay? Fucked ya a little too hard, baby momma?” He snickers.

You fake a laugh, hoping he’ll see you’re feeling exhausted rather than suspect anything is wrong.

Your husband kisses your forehead with a whisper “Stay in bed, you rest as long as ya need,” before walking towards the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

I love you. It should have made you feel surrounded by him. Comforted, secure, proud, inseparable, sound, cherished, warm, fuzzy, happy, truthful, light. Your husband confessing his love to you. 

Instead, it only reminded you of the dream had about Joel again last night.

Joel in your house. Joel in your bed. Joel dropping Sarah off at school and feeding your newborn with her bottle. Joel cooking in your backyard, Joel’s hands entwined with yours on a walk. Joel rubbing your shoulders and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Joel kissing your cheek and telling you he lo—

You cover your face with the back of your hands. Tommy’s the one in your bed. Tommy holds your hand and kisses your cheek, and will be feeding and burping your baby, will be there for you forever and always because that’s what you promised to each other. 

You hold the ring on your finger up high in the air, its dazzling shimmer glints in your eyes. Your eternal promise, displayed on something so small yet so permanent, wrapped up in such a beautiful band.

The same ring that Best Man Joel carried in his pocket safely for months before you swore yourself to his brother. 

 You curse under your breath.

You’re still going to have to see him today.

-

He watches you crowd over Tommy seated at the head of the table, your hands lovingly on his shoulders. He thinks about his “one wish” for a while, but he only looks sideways towards you, holding your gaze for a moment before he confidently blows his candles. The room erupts in a rumble of cheers and clapping, but Tommy and you are only smiling at one another. He grabs your face and kisses you, smearing some icing on your nose. You laugh with him and rub it along his own, the two of you giddy and in your own world.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

And when you slice into the cake, nobody really understand why the cake is split between a blue and pink center. Everyones thinking the same thing--we already did the baby shower, it was going to be a girl!

“We might...have found out…there's gonna be another one,” you say sheepishly, your hands rollings over the heft of your larger than life belly that surprisingly has two little bubbas growing inside. 

Twins. you're having fucking twins. 

Tommy grasps your face and smears more icing on you, the two of you locking lips again and getting a little too pg-13 in a room full of raucous screeches that feel like nails on a chalkboard, shuffling chairs like a thunderous stampede. Everyone rushes to congratulate the two of you, how your lives are really starting, how exciting it must all be, what names you’ve been thinking of, its its everything you’d hoped it would be.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

Tommy knew, of course he did. Both of you planned it, to announce it like that. He’s got that smug look on his face, nothing of surprise. Just absolutely elated to share news that had been sitting on the two of you for who knows how long. Something Joel used to always get firsthand word from. You’re having twins. And he’s learning about it for the first time, same as everyone else. Tommy’s friends pat him on the back. Aunts kiss his cheek and even his dad smiles towards his youngest son’s success, all while the whole time, his ringed hand hasn’t left the curve of your swollen womb.

Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.

He slips out the back of the room, everyone too engrossed in surrounding the happy couple. Nobody cared for Joel’s presence, not since the minute Tommy was born. Nobody would bat an eye for his absence today too.

…

You’re excited, you want to celebrate, and having everyone touching and surrounding you and asking questions wasn’t the way you wanted it. That’s why it was supposed to be during Tommy’s birthday, so there was something else to focus on.

But your body is on edge. It was attention from all that thrill. Jittery and warm under your palms.

Between your legs.

It’s hard to force Joel out of your mind whenever he’s in the same room. So when he dips out of the kitchen without making any gesture towards you, you didn’t hesitate to excuse yourself for a bathroom break. Nobody questions it, continuing their swarm around Tommy now who’s too eager for all the attention to really notice.

You don’t know what you expect from Joel. You don’t even know why you’re seeking him right now, and not standing by your husband’s side. You love Tommy. He’s everything to you. 

So why is there still this half of you that feels… like you need more?

Maybe your body is thinking on her own accord now, and that’s been a problem that needs to end. No. No you just wanted to talk. That’s all. He's your brother-in-law, for fucks sake. it’s natural you want to hear his thoughts. He’s gonna be a double uncle! He deserves a congratulations! Hope he’ll tell you congratulations too. Acknowledge it in some way. That its happening. That you and Tommy—are just you and Tommy. 

You wonder where the older Miller may have gone in such a small house. Sarah was still in the room, sneaking cake since nobody else seemed to care to slice it up, so where on earth—?

A callused palm wrap around your mouth and pulls you backwards into the dark bathroom, the door closing you inside with him warm and pressed tightly against your back.

“Shhhhhhhhh,” he whispers. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver, all the way down to the dampness spreading along your panties. Fuck. What was it about just ‘talking’ to him again? 

“J-Joel,” your voice wavers cautiously. “I—“ 

“You still gonna keep pretending you don’t want me?”

You face him as he turns the lights on and the two of you are caught in one another’s grasps. There’s a moment where you size him up, and he wonders if you’ll bluff his pass.

Instead, Like magnets that can’t resist their attractions, your instincts overwhelm you. Your eager fingers dig into the back of his neck and smash his lips against yours. The traces of icing still linger on your lips and tongue, the two of you devouring one another, fighting to get the last lick before coming apart to breathe.

Joel just smirks, his tongue swiping over his puffy lower lip. “Sweet,” he hums. His thumb brushes the bit of icing you didn’t know was still on your nose and puts it in his mouth. “How somethin’ so sweet come from someone so naughty?”

You quickly drop to a squat and roughly shove his hips back against the sink. Nimble fingers working swiftly to unbuckle his jeans and shove them down to his thighs.

You’re both panting through swollen lips, heart rate moving a lot quicker than the activities you’ve so far done would permit. He’s gorgeous like this—illuminated by the harsh florescent light above, his sincere, albeit sinful, smile and rosy cheeks watching you kiss his hardened length. 

He doesn’t force you. Doesn’t do anything to make you feel concerned. In fact, you’ve cornered him against the vanity, forcing yourself between his bent knees and inserting his tip to your wet mouth.

“Beautiful,” he whispers softly. His thumb strokes over your cheek as you guide more of his leaking cock into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not even to blink. 

Your head bobs eagerly, swallowing around him. There’s just something about that huge dick of his that has you going feral. An itch you can’t scratch until his cum is either nested safely in your stomach or your womb. Maybe it’s because you’ll never be able to get rid of him. He’ll be around forever, and that means you can keep seeing him and his beefy horse cock forever. Forbidden yet yours for the taking. Every day if you wanted. 

The sounds of the party outside feel so remote compared to the events happening in such a little room right now. Just between you and Joel. 

The babies ain’t quite here yet so just you and Joel.

“Pretty pretty angel, sucking’ Daddy’s cock like that. What would your husband think? Suckin’ his big brother off in your house? I’d tell ‘im you got to your knees all by yourself. Little slut couldn’t wait for it. Second she saw me, needed my fat cock stretchin’ her throat, ain’t that right? Needed me to give ya something today too? Just that selfish, aren’t ya?”

You pull off his cock with a big gasp, smiling lazily. He slaps his cock against your open tongue with thick and wet patpatpats. 

He tsks you. “Pregnant gal, on her knees, takin’ cock like a slut. What a woman you are, little momma.”

You hum in approval, the drunken desire for Joel to fill your every senes clogging your brain.

Soft lips enclose around his tip again and he thrusts forward this time, holding his cock deep. You try to remember to breathe through your nose, even with his hairs tickling your lashes, but Joel pulls back enough to just his tip, and sets a gentle rhythm back and forth.

Joel’s head falls back against the mirror. His eyelids feel heavy each time he looks down to you. So full and rounded by a child—two children…if they're his, Joel’s having another daughter and his first son.

“Told ya you were made from breedin’. You’re gonna be like this the rest of ya life. Gonna put another baby in ya, then another—” he chuckles to himself, “N’another—havin’ ya suck cock not remember what number baby ya got growing’ in ya belly.”

He hisses through his teeth as you suck his member in and out, picking up pace. Your tongue works over his tip with each swipe, hand jerking off the base of his dick that you can’t fit. Any saliva and precum is immediately suckled and swallowed, leaving no evidence at the scene.

You’d gotten pretty good at that.

Joel’s beefy paw grasps the porcelain edge behind him as he hisses through his teeth. His stomach tenses, the veins in his v’line straining and you know he’s close. 

You alternate between sucking his balls and jacking off his cock above you. “What if I busted all over that pretty face? Have ya walk around your house with my cum on those lashes as everyone told ya what a cock hungry whore you are.”

You moan around him, your pussy so slicked between your thighs that it’s dripping down your pants. Its wrong. Fuck, you’re so wrong to want it. Want Tommy to see who’s marking you up, see how much you’d spread your pussy for Miller cock no matter if its your husbands his brothers.

His cock finds its way to your mouth again, and he starts thrusting lightly. 

“Swallow it, swallow it all. Want ya hesitatin’ to kiss Tommy after this. Knowin’ ya got my spunk in your mouth still. Fuck me babydoll, mouth’s a dream.”

His jaw drops low as he cums, and god what a sight. Your cunt throbs as he lets out pained breaths into the air, ready to cum if you were able to touch yourself right now.

You gulp down his salty load, lips suctioned to his tip and milking him clean to avoid any messes that might linger.

“That’s a good slutty wife,” he whispers down to you. Even on your knees, the heft of your pregnant belly is doing wonders to him. 

You lazily grin up to his smug grin. He knows you like showing him just how good you are at swallowing loads, like a good wife always does.

He pulls his softened cock out of your mouth, and you gasp a big breath of air, your hands still clinging to his thighs.

You feel his protective hands hoist you up to your feet. 

“Anything hurt?” He asks gently, holding your body flush against him as he rubs your tummy and hips. He feels much less tense than just moments ago when he pulled you in the bathroom with him. 

You shake your head. It’s not the first time you’ve gone down on a man while 30 pounds heavier with a baby. Your knees are a bit sore, but it’s nothing compared to the ache you’ve been feeling in your back for months now.

You try to pull away from Joel, but his arm is wrapped tightly around you. 

“Didn’t think you were pullin’ me in here just to suck me off. Why are you actin’ like this little snatch is happy from that?”

“I didn’t pull you—you pulled me,” you correct.

“You came lookin’ f’me. And you got on your knees all by yourself.”

His hands caress lower down your hip, gliding along your leggings towards your crotch. It should be wrong, the way your hand closes around his wrist to guide him closer, his digits dipping below the waistline and down your panties. 

He feels it: the soft squelch of your slick in your ruined underwear, pulsing madly. He grins and lets out a satisfied yet devious ‘ooooh there we go’ against your cheek. 

But there’s more. More dripping from here than he’s given you just from the thrill of sucking his cock.

He pushes his middle finger past your entrance and fingers out the glob of cum that had been deposited inside you earlier today.

“It’s —it’s Tommy’s birthday,” you moan, as if he needed an explanation as to why your husband’s seed is dripping out of your pussy. “Had—to give him—ooohhhhuugggg—his…gift—“

He continues to finger fuck you slowly, his younger brother’s cum practically pooling in your underwear. “Got one man’s cum in your mouth and a different one’s in ya pussy." He shakes his head. when he gets you like this, sometimes he would forget that you’re Tommy’s wife, after all. That Tommy gets you more than him. Gets to fill you whenever he pleases. Gets to hear your moans as loudly as he wants. That Tommy’s right to your pussy is his first and foremost, sacredly, forever and always.

That doesn’t stop Joel from seething at the thought of having to finger his brothers spent out of you.

"What, he didn’t make ya cum?” He taunts, picking up the pace. Even as you wreathe under his touch, your nails clench into his bicep, feeling the muscle work with each flick of his knuckle. “S’why you’re so desperate today? Wifey didn’t get her selfish little cunt pleased from your husband on his birthday?”

 "I did come …” you protest weakly. You squeeze your eyes shut, head tilted down as he works you open. It’s sloppy and sticky in your leggings, soaking the underside with your slick and Tommy’s cum being forced out by Joel’s big fingers relentlessly hitting the gummy spot inside.

His other hand grips your chin and forces you to look at him:

 “Then why you comin’ to me?”

There’s a prickle of a tear filling your eyes. You've been asking yourself the same thing for months. You don’t know from what; the brink of pleasure or guilt, but there’s a hefty stone that’s burrowed in your chest all day that you didn’t know needed to escape. The words are forced out of your chest with a pained gasp. 

"... I just want... more.”  

It should pain you to admit it, to be so selfish for these men, never feeling one is enough for you.

Normally He would kiss you right now, to hush your mind to reveal something so heavy, but instead, he holds your gaze, gritting his teeth with a snarl just barely poking along his lip. He wants to let your words sink into your bones, really grasp what you've been denying for too long. Suffer with it, even.

You hadn’t even realized he backed you up against the door, pressing his knee between your leg. You’ve become trapped and hadn’t even noticed. His fingers prod your entrance incessantly, reaching deep inside so there’s no way of you to wiggle out of his grasp. curling up and beating your g-spot better than Tommy can—at this point, its very possible you’ve had more sex with Joel than with your own husband.

And that makes the coil in your pussy snap.

Joel belittles you without any words while you fall apart against the wooden door holding you up. Working the heft of his palm against your clit until your brows are furrowing, mouth agape, walls clamping down tight around him as you cum. The door rattles with each little roll of your hips, and your moans aren’t hushed either. 

He watches, the way your eyes are glued to him, blown wide in guilt and in pleasure while little whines escape your lips. Unrelenting and stoic as he works you through your orgasm, granting no mercy nor even trying to shush your little cries from over stimulation. You don’t hesitate when he brings his fingers to your lips, swallowing them whole and sucking Tommy and your slick off Joel’s fingers. He wipes the rest off on your shirt.

Every emotion you feel with Tommy, you feel with Joel in moments like these. He holds you close to him as you breathe in his musky, minty scent. His shirt smells a bit like flowered softener and a hint of early morning sweat. Fumigated with the thick aroma of sex.

You're looking at the ring on your knuckle.

“I helped pick it out. Carried it for months. ’S practically my ring to you too.” He’s babbling now, getting lost in that hazy after-orgasm glow between two people who are connected by a strong, strange bond. “Sometimes …sometimes I think about stealing you away all to myself.”

He makes you two look in the mirror together, with him cradling your belly as you hold your ring hand to your chest. “Look,” he commands softly against your ear. “Kinda looks like our own little family.”

You hate that you kind of liked that idea. But then Tommy is in your mind, the man that you actually love, who fought for you, who you tied your vows to, and as far as you’re concerned, the father of your children. 

Angry, you try to break away and shove Joel, but he's used to it. Used to you closing him off right after these moments of pure insanity. He's not letting it happen today. This time he’s got a firm grip on you like a brick wall and steel wire melding you tight to him. He knows you don’t actually want to push him away. 

"You said you wanted more.”

It’s not a question: it’s a statement. A fact.

The very real thought, the one you tried to push away every time this happens, dawns on you: Joel is tired of sneaking around. Wants to have you when he wants. When everyone is watching. 

Not just sex. To be in your bed, making you dinner and watching movies, dropping Sarah off to school rubbing your back when you’re in pain, there for the babies when you deliver and every day after. 

You manage to push him off of you and shake your head. The chatter outside grows louder than the beats of your heart. Hoisting your pants back up into place, you go to grab the bathroom door, but Joels strong grip lays over top your and forces the door shut.

There’s a deadly, threatening finality to his tone. “I’m telling him.”

You turn back with a shocked expression, partially expecting him to be joking about it. Not that it’s funny. It’s not funny at all. 

But Joel hasn’t moved. Hasn’t cracked a smile. A man whose resolve has overcome his patience. His lips are tight, jaw tense as he watches you try to answer to that horrifying outcome. 

“Joel. No. Are you insane?”

“If its my kids you’re having, I have every right to be there for you—“

“But it’s NOT!”

“You know that? Tell me right know, you know it for sure. Say it ain’t mine, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

You go quiet, looking down at the belly that’s carrying your babies. You want to shrink away from your fears, from the men who’ve caught you between them with their words and their love and their touch. You’re Tommy’s wife. Yet here you are with Joel. Again. In your and Tommy’s house. And Joel’s hand on you, and on your finger is Tommy’s ring—Joel’s ring--TOMMY—

 It’s too much. Everything is closing around you, your lungs suffocating themselves under the pressure that you caused by seeking him out. Finding him and putting yourself in this exact situation ever. Single. Time. 

You yank the door again, desperate to escape, but Joel doesn’t budge. He refuses to let you walk away from the conversation. From him.

“You didn’t deny it,” he reminds you. he pulls your reluctant focus to him again. “Just say it: Tell me you want me. Tell me you lo—”

“I don’t.” You declare rigidly. Its too far. No, no, no,nonoNO. You expel those thoughts, his words, quick to cast them out before letting them enter your system. The next words rush out of your mouth with a deep ache seized in the pit of your stomach: “You’re just a good fuck.”

The air is thin around you. Something has dropped, a pin, a dime, a fucking boulder, between the two of you. Joel grits his teeth and removes his hand from the door, backing away from you with a scowl. He pulls it the knob open harshly and brushes past you quickly, not even taking a moment to check if anyone was nearby to see you emerging from the bathroom too.

He grabs his jacket and strides towards the living room. You can make out the commotion behind the wall; Sarah is having her own philosophy course to her personal audience, asking, "Whats the point of having so many candles if you can only make one wish!?"

Joel grabs her hand and dismisses them quickly. Her sad cries echo into the hall: “But why! It’s too early!”

Joel’s stern voice echoes in the hall as they make their way across the entryway.  “Because I said so. I’ve got work tomorrow. We’re leaving.”

She continues to complain, but Joel doesn’t have any heart to continue their conversation. Ushering her out of the house and slamming the front door behind them.

You stare at the door, having not moved from your place. 

The carpet beneath your socked-feet feels too shaggy. I hated this carpet. Its too fucking much for fucking Texas and every god damn person who sees it here.

You flinch when Tommy’s hand creeps along your belly. Disgusting your sniffle as a cough and wiping your nose. You worry he noticed, but he doesn’t do anything to push the matter further. “What’s up with him?”

You huff an annoyed sigh. “I don’t fucking know. He’s your brother. Just Leave me the fuck alone.”

Tommy observes  your face momentarily, the way you avoid his eyes. He pulls away. “I’m gonna let this one slide as a pregnancy hormonal thing,” he says lowly, a cold soberness to his tone. “Then you can tell me what’s botherin’ ya so much lately. Or not. I’ll let you decide.”

You cover your face with your hands, sinful hands that feel like dry leather and charred ashes. Hands that don’t feel like your own anymore.

It would be better if Tommy just walked away. So you can simmer in your guilt and pain, like any cheating wife would. Like a sensible man who doesn’t take that shit from his wife, no matter what her personal problems are. From a woman who’s secretly jeopardizing their marriage for… what exactly?

You wanted more…but…what did you want more of?

Instead, Tommy feels his lips quiver slightly. He brings your head to his chest, smothering you in his scent and his embrace, his love and comfort.

Your insides break down in a flood. Tears and hiccups suffocate you as you wrap your arms around your husband and sob into his denim jacket, the one you just gave him this morning as his first birthday gift from his new wife. 

Tommy’s never pushed you for anything. Maybe to his own detriment.

Deep down, you suspect, he knows it too.

Instead, he just holds you, swaying back and forth with gentle ‘shhh’ into your forehead. Never once faltering on the stretch of his hug, his arms holding you up and against him like a seatbelt built for a lifetime.

You feel like you just drove the car off a cliff.

Series Taglist: @yawnetu @tearfallpixie @morgaussy @whirlwindrider29 @merci-killing @604to647 @robertpattins0nswh0re

- - - -

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Permanent Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[mirnilop]

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

[circeyoru]

{Demonic Companion} Something's wrong with your lover + Angst moments over love

First spin-off! This request can be found in {Demonic Companion _ Part 2}

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@writer-girl993d

Maybe after reader gets a lover, they’re ranting about the lover to Alastor and realizes something’s wrong. Or before lover boy gets involved and we get the angst over what Alastor “likes” Mimzy over? I have more ideas but I don’t want to flood the comments with them but let me know if you want more?

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**For the sake of it, I’ll just call the lover as ‘L’ cause I don’t know if you prefer female or male lovers. 

What if you realize there’s something wrong with your relationship with L while ranting to Alastor?

The likelihood of you realizing something wrong is slim, but with more obvious hints, you’ll notice. Especially since you’re comparing L with Alastor to prove to yourself that it was a ‘good’ or ‘safe’ choice as you do love Alastor still but gave up since he has crush on a demon that you don’t think you can compare with

To realize something wrong would be something along the lines of L having red flag, being abusive or manipulative or anything like that. How you realize is thanks to Alastor. Before you and the Overlord were all buddy-buddy, he did try to rope you into signing a contract with him and it was your persistence that got him to give up (hence why Alastor wanted you romantically now)

But because Alastor changed for you, you think the same would happen with L. Now a cruical element in that change is whether L is geuninently in love with you. If not, you can bet that you will break things off since you can tell fake from true. If so, you’d be more patient. It wasn’t like Alastor also changed by the next visit

Overall, you’re seeing Alastor in L, that was why L was your crush and lover to begin with. L was your reminder of what would be a happy end for you two if Alastor didn’t express his distance to you and his crush to Mimzy

You would have fought back and tried to win Alastor’s heart, but you weren’t the type of person to selfishly want your own happiness to sacrifice others’. Why did you think your childhood friends didn’t listen to you when they were doing that demon summoning?

Angst Moments Over What Alastor ‘Likes’ About Mimzy

*Fair warning, this would be set before you express your crush and still pursuing Alastor’s heart but he’s in denial and pushing you away strongly. Alastor firmly drawing the line that you two were merely friends and you should be grateful that he didn’t do anything bad to you

“Oh, the gal should can dance! Back in the days, you should have seen her, she can dance throughout the night and until the sun comes up! Ha! No one but I can keep up with her. There were rumours going around that we were an item. Oh, how I wish it so.” Alastor sighed as he played with his cane childishly while his eyes looked so distant

You shouldn’t have asked, you shouldn’t have been curious. They say ignorant is bliss, but now that you know. You can’t forget it. You scrolled on your phone, hugging your soft toy tighter. You could hear your heart shattering with every praise and admiration that rolled off his tongue, you wanted to put in your earplug or tell Alastor off so you could bury your head in your pillow and sob the night away

You can’t help but be smitten with the charming demon, not that he was powerful and handsome and well, charming. But he had been the only one in your life that stayed by your side. Whether it was being brutally honest or poking fun at you to make you stronger. It was always him and he didn’t leave you

Giving him your soul wasn’t the answer because then your life would be cut short and you want your freedom and pride still. As much as you know that was what Alastor want from you

You tried taking dancing lessons, train your public speaking, work part-time at a cafe, all those things Alastor told you about Mimzy. It was out of your comfort zone, but if it gets Alastor to see you as something more than a potential contracted soul or a friend, it was worth it

But you got the worst wake up call

“My dear, are you trying to be like Mimzy?” Alastor’s words taunted you, making you brush in embarrassment for being found out. His condescending laughter didn’t comfort you. “You mortal soul, can never be like Mimzy, you’d never be on your level! No matter how hard you’d try, you can never be like the one I love and care for. So, do give up and save yourself the money, energy, and time spent on these wasteful efforts of yours.”

It was a wonder you didn’t break down on the spot and cry

Unlike Mimzy, you weren’t successful, nor can you dance like crazy. You didn’t know Alastor from his time period, you didn’t bond with him as much. You didn’t know Alastor as much as Mimzy, you’d still fear his demonic form whereas Mimzy cheers him on. You’re not Mimzy. Alastor likes Mimzy

Right, you wake up from then on. Alastor doesn’t love you like he would to Mimzy. You were merely an entertainment on Earth that he graciously gives his time and energy to. How many can say that a demon stayed by their side and not torment them for the rest of their mortal life? You might be the only one

So you smiled, your eyes closed and your lips curved into the widest smile you can manage. You didn’t catch the way Alastor freeze and his smile faltering when you spoke those words that changed everything from then on, “Right, sorry. I thought I could learn a thing or two from Mimzy since you hold her in such high regard. I was silly. Can you please give me some time to think things through? Maybe a week or so. I’ll be back to normal by then.”

Alastor shouldn’t have agreed. He shouldn’t have ignored and brush off the way you were so stiff and in such disbelief of his words. He was harsh, he saw that now. He shouldn’t have given you space. But what was he to do? He didn’t even know why he said and did what he did

The next time Alastor returned to your side, you have already been directing your attention to a crush of yours from school and your intimate care to him was all missing its warmth

Note: The second spin-off for this series is coming soon~ It's a bit of a sample to let you see what the requests would be written as. Obviously it's going to be as long as your and my ideas combined, but not long enough to be a one-shot

Circe Y.

[schemmentisbranzino]

Italian Flavors - Part 2 “The Date?”

Note: As per usual, I did not proofread this so i apologize for any mistakes! Hope you enjoy’

Part 1

Friday night was hell for you, you tossed and turned all night, barely being able to catch any sleep. All you could think about was the italian redhead, what your date would be like, was it even a date? It had to be, she was definitely flirting. Your thoughts wandered for a while, thinking about how she said she wanted to fill you up. What was she going to do to you? What was she going to let you do to her? Was that all happening tomorrow? Shivers run through your body and you feel your clit tingling. God damnit, just the thought of her it’s enough to drive you insane. You thought about her hands, her fingers looked so perfect, you had seen her before around the market pickinp up fruit and wondered how they would feel grabbing your tits, and soon you might now have to wonder anymore. Maybe you will get to experience what they feel like inside you, you feel yourself clenching around nothing. “God damn it y/n you are down so bad” Frustrated you decide to get up and make some tea. After a cup of chamomile and a hot shower, you put your favorite asmr sounds and do some breathing exercises that finally make you fall asleep.

Saturday morning you wake up and the first thing that pops into your head is her. You smile to yourself thinking about how she probably looks now on her bed, you wonder if she is a morning person or she likes to sleep in. Being a teacher she probably is used to getting up early but maybe she enjoys staying in bed on the weekends. You haven’t even have a date with this woman and you are already thinking about her routines and her morning hair and breath. You can tell she is going to be the end of you, but she is so beautiful, you wouldn’t mind.

You decide you can’t show up empty handed but you don’t want to show up with something store bought. So you embark in the journey of trying to make the most perfect cannolis. After browsing the internet for a long time, you finally find a recipe that seems to be approved by all the italians in the comments. Lucky for you, you had all the ingredients at home. You loved cooking but cooking for Melissa felt different. You stood in front of your kitchen with a stupid gring on your face thinking about how you imagined she’d look if she liked your dessert. The grin quickly turning into a big gulp, your throat might have gone dry from thinking about the sounds she’d make, how her eyes would roll to the back of her head. “Damn y/n im sure they won’t be that good” you say to yourself.

After a while, you get your recipe right. Giving yourself a pat on the shoulder. Hopefully Melissa likes them as much as you like her, mmm as much as you like italian desserts, thats what you meant.

7pm is quickly approaching and you decide to text Melissa to ask for her address, since she never texted it to you. Did she forget? SHIT! Did she forget?

you: Hi Melissa, are we still on for tonight? You never sent me your address. Was i supposed to ask around?

hot italian milf: Hi gorgeous, no one around would know where I live. Guess I was hoping you’d text me.

you: You could have texted me too, you know

hot italian milf: But where is the fun in that?

hot italian milf: shared her location

you: oh the queen reveals the way to her castle

hot italian milf: don’t be late, princess

You throw your phone on the couch and proceed to run all over your apartment. Grinning like an idiot you jump around your living room. Oh she wants you, she does.

You take a shower and stand in front of your closet for way too long. You have no idea what to wear. You think of weating a dress for easy access “Wow whore” you say to yourself. But truth is you don’t even own one of those that isnt the ones that you are forced to wear at events. You are more of a leather pants and a jacket kinda gal, so you go with that. She should see you in your essence. You make sure to wear a tank top that reveals enough of your cleavage, she should enjoy the view.

You grab the cannolis and get on your way, not before passing by your local flowershop and getting her the most beautiful bouquet. What can you say? You are a romantic that knows how to treat a lady.

You hurry and drive to her house. Your palms are sweaty and your heart feels like it is about to jump out of your chest. A few weeks ago you were admiring this woman from afar and now you are about to have dinner with her. “SOMEONE PINCH ME” you scream as you pull into her driveway.

You give yourself a short mental peptalk and go up to her door. You knock and seconds later, there she is, the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. You are speechless as you look at her up and down. She is wearing a lime green satin dress and it looks like it was made for her. It hugs all her curves so perfectly. Your mouth slightly waters at the sight.

- Hi gorgeous, cat got your tongue? - she says with the biggest grin, oh she knows what you are thinking.

- More like a beautiful woman did. Wow, you look stunning. - you said with all sincerity and the sweet tone makes the redhead blush.

- You look good too, hot stuff. Who are those for?

- Oh, these - you say as you come back to reality and realize you are holding a huge bouquet of flowers. - They are for you, obviously.

- A pretty girl and pretty flowers, my lucky day - she grabs them and gestures for you to step into her house but you are still frozen from the compliment.

- Come inside, I have stuff on the stove. We are eating food no?

- Uhm yes, food.

You follow her into the kitchen and watch her as she tries to grab a vase from her top cabinet. All you can do is stare at her ass and think about how perfect it is. Your brain can’t comprehend how someone can be shaped like that, she looks like she was carved by the italian gods themselves.

- See something you like, hon? - Melissa says as she turns around.

- A lot i like actually, your kitchen is beautiful!!! I would love to have a kitchen like this someday. It must be so nice to cook here.

- Well, now you can come and I might let you cook in here.

- A second date already Ms. Schemmenti? - you say jokingly, your eyes hoping that her answer is yes but she just silently stares at you.

- Oh my god, this is not a date? - you say, your eyes widening in panic

- Relax baby, yes it is. You should have seen your face. How could it not be after that borderline pornographic video you sent me. - You blush at her statement.

- Oh wow, good.

- Aww you are blushing, thats so cute. - she mocks you as she starts getting closer to you.

Yoy can feel her eyes on your cheeks, then your eyes, god those emerald eyes, the perfect wrinkles that surround them. Her eyes tell you so much about her. Sure, Melissa seems to have a tough exterior but her eyes light up in a way that let you see all the light that is inside her. They also show you all the fire that she possesses. You feel her gaze on you, she is studying every feature on your face. Slowly getting closer, she raises one of her hands. Caressing your cheek she tells you what a pretty girl you are. She traces your nose with her finger and your breath catches. She looks at your lips for far too long and you softly twitch in anticipation.

- OH, the sauce, it is ready - Melissa says as she walks away from you, leaving you wanting her.

- Come on you didn’t think i was going to give you what you want so easily - she says and winks at you.

- and what is it that i want Schemmenti?

- I know what it is, but maybe you should be the one telling me.

- Well since you are withholding kisses, Im withholding that information.

- Oh touché

For a while you just sit there and watch her assemble her lasagna. You feel so lucky to get to see her like this. Dancing around her kitchen doing what she loves the most, and you get to enjoy her art. Your eyes are probably heart shaped at this point.

She pops the lasagna in the oven and opens a bottle of wine.

- “Here puppy eyes” she says as she hands you a glass of wine. - What is that you are holding hostage in that bag?

- Oh my god, I had completely forgotten

- Wonder why - Melissa says with a smirk

- Well someone’s pretty self has been distracting me - you say eyerolling

- So you think I am pretty? - Melissa questions you, her tongue dragging along her bottom lip, cleaning her wine stained lips.

- No, I am just here for the free dinner - You joke

- Funny huh - she leaves out a laugh that make your stomach flutter

- Could say is one of my best qualities, but anyway, in the bag there is actually something for you. - you shuffle in your seat (the stool near the kitchen island from where you have been watching Melissa this whole time)

- So what is it?

- Ok, but i am actually nervous about this. I know i am not italian but i do love cooking italian food and i did a lot of research and this recipe seems to be very authentic italian, so please give it a chance - You say as you hand her the box of cannolis.

- Oh god, hon! These look amazing. You sure you aren’t italian. It they are as sweet as ya, I am sure I’ll love them.

You search for any hint that she might be lying in her eyes but all you see is sincerity. You give her the brightest smile.

- I had something else in mind for dessert, though. But we can have these.

- Uhm, who said anything about having to eat them today?

Melissa laughs out loud, and there they are, the butterflies are there again. You can’t believe you are making this stunning woman laugh.

You both talk about your backgrounds, what ignited your love for cooking, your careers and even a little bit about your past relationships. Being with Melissa feels so comfortable. It doesn’t feel like this is a first date. You can also tell Melissa doesn’t share this much with anyone. You feel lucky and intoxicated by her. You want to hear her talk forever. God, even just being in her presence is the best thing you have ever experienced.

After a while the lasagna is ready and she sets out the table for you. The scene is so beautiful. Candlight dinner, the flowers that you brought her sitting on the table, the wine, the soft music playing in the background, the lasagna, and her oh beautiful her.

She serves you a plate and hands it to you, gesturing you to not start yet.

She comes to your side and takes a seat, all you can do is look at her, her red locks, her long lashes, her beautifully shaped lips, oh that cleavage. Slowly she grabs your cutlery and cuts a piece for you. You look at her with a slightly puzzling luck.

She picks up a piece of her lasagna and brings her to your mouth. Both of you holding eye contact with each other as she softly says:

- I want to be up close when you make those sweet noises, like in the video… yes, baby?

Her raspy voice makes you gulp, and you softly nod, never breaking eye contact, she feeds you and you can’t help but leave out a breathy moan. One because the lasagna is actually the most delicious one you have ever had and two because you had to let out your pent up sexual tension from the moment.

- You are such a good girl. - She says smiling at you and she watches you shift in your chair, pressing your legs together.

- Ahhh love learning new things about you honey, we’ll explore that later - she says as she softly kisses your cheek and goes back to her seat. You whimper at the loss of her contact.

- Eat up, sweetheart, I am so ready for dessert.

[they-call-me-emmy]

The Past is The Past 3

Part 1 and 2 on my account <3

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tara was faced with her 3 ghostface, and this time got so seriously injured she was in a coma. When she wakes up, she has no memory of the past 3 years...including you, her girlfriend.

Notes: Imagine this as our gals scream 7...since Jenna apparently quit and left me fucking DYING

Warnings: Uh, injury, violence, blood, our boy ghostyface with knives. Coma and memory loss if thats even a warning. Swearing. Uhm. Shitty 7th grade writing.

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

Tara pushed the food around her plate using her fork. She'd barely eaten a bite all dinner, busy glaring at Sam and avoiding any sort of eye contact with Y/N.

"So." Sam began, putting a hand to her mouth and pausing, to finish chewing. "Y/N. How's life been treating you? I haven't seen you around in a while."

There was a second of silence as Y/N finished her food.

"Fine." She stated, setting her fork down on her napkin. "Work's been rough, but nothing besides that."

Sam nodded. "You work at that bookstore, right? The one with the bunny in the window? I drive by it on my way to the grocery store."

Tara had no idea what they were talking about. She hadn't gone shopping since she'd come home. What bookstore? What bunny? It was like listening to people speaking nonsense.

"Yeah. That's the one. Shifts have been longer recently, we're low on staff."

Sam nodded, continuing to eat. Y/N cleared her throat.

"Tara," Tara startled from her daze at the sound of her name, in Y/N's voice no less. "Sam's been telling me your getting back into horror? Is that true?"

Tara glared at Sam.

"I've always been into horror."

Y/N nodded, pursing her lips, sensing the tension in the room. The need to just...not talk.

"I was-" Y/N cleared her throat and took a sip of water. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to watch some of your favorites...y'know, the few we watched in the last year you really enjoyed? I wouldn't mind re-watching them with you."

Tara couldn't help but feel weird. She's watched movies with this girl. She'd watched horror movies. She'd watched horror movies and enjoyed them. With this girl? This girl she hardly knew now?

"Maybe."

Y/N nodded.

"I've been busy lately." Tara pushed a cooked carrot into her napkin. She didn't like those.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Tara, you've been sitting on your ass for the past week-"

Tara suddenly stood up. "I'm finished. I'm going to go wash the dishes." She took Sam and Y/N's plates and left without another word.

Tara knew they'd talk the moment she left. She hovered at the door, running the sink in the background so they'd think she was cleaning. Maybe they'd mention the big thing tonight. Maybe they'd say something that would finally help her understand her past.

"I'm sorry she's being an ass." Sam's voice was muffled through the kitchen door.

"It's fine. I wasn't expecting a heartwarming welcome. I mean, come on, I'm practically a stranger to her. And it's hard on her too, Sam. Remember she's struggling too."

Tara would have felt mad if anyone else had said this, as if they pitied her and felt sorry for her state of mind. But hearing those words, those words in Y/N's sweet voice...felt like reassurance that someone understand how she'd been struggling.

"I know...I'm trying to get her to...connect. Y'know? Re-enforce those bonds...god, you two were like peas in a pod. I can't imagine how long it'll take for that to be back, especially with her new...attitude." Sam sounded empathetic, but there was still a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

"I'm not expecting it to just click again...but I can wait. I'm assuming you haven't told her?" Y/N asked.

Tara could feel her heart beat a little faster. Was this it? Was she about to learn what this secret was that everyone seemed so desperate to avoid?

"No. I don't feel like it's the right time. I mean, you see the way she is. Putting that much more pressure on her is bound to do no good."

"You have to tell her at some point." Y/N said. "You and her would both prefer you telling her rather then her randomly learning one day, or even worse, getting a flash of memory from it. The doctor did say those happen, especially with traumatic experiences, at least in her case."

"I don't feel like now is the right time."

"Soon, Sam. Please. The girl deserves to know. This is important."

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I'm a slut for comments people.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 12

Warnings: noncon, namecalling, violence, 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

You feel a bit dreamy. Well, you always do. You sit in your bed, freshly made, fragrant with fabric softener, as you cut through the pages of old catalogues. Your fingers are sticky with glue as you arrange the images just so.

You can hear your mom downstairs, the bluetooth speaker playing Hall and Oates to her content. Your dad's outside trying to fix the fence post. You can hear him swearing through the crack of your window.

You hold out the scrapbook. You just need that globe right in that little space. Oh, the leather sofa is perfect.

You leave the book open on your bed to dry so the pages don't stick. You put on your dress with the daisies on white and spin in the mirror. Your yellow beret will go perfect. You put the hat on and a pair of matching clunky maryjanes.

You go downstairs and find your mother scavenging in the tupperware container you left on the counter. You squeal as she quickly closes the lid and covers her mouth guiltily. She backs away and giggles.

“I couldn't resist,” she says through a full mouth.

“Mom!” You stick your tongue out as you snatch up the container of cookies.

“You don't need all those,” she accuses.

“They're not for you.”

“I know, so… who are they for?” She tilts her head coyly.

“Someone,” you roll your eyes.

“A boy.”

You harrumph, “he's too old to be a boy.”

“Oh my gosh! That's so cute! Do we get to meet him?”

“No,” you pout and turn your chin up, “it's new.”

“Well, be safe. Don't get into too much trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you drag your feet and stop in the doorway, “mom, can you not tell dad?”

She laughs again, “sure, sweetie, our little secret.”

You smile, cheeks twitching. You don't need your parents nosing around. You're still figuring this all out.

🍪

You wait outside the club. It's almost seven. You thought he'd be there by now. The other bouncer is. Lee, that's his name.

You're not weird or anything. You've just been watching from across the street for an hour or two. Not your fault he didn't leave his number.

You cross the road as you see Lee come back out. He sees you and smiles. He's so friendly, you wish August would try that.

“Hi,” you hop over the curb, “is Auggy here yet?”

“Auggy? Nah, he's taking his time,” he eyes the container in your hands, “what's this?”

“Oh, just a surprise. You want one?”

“Depends. What's the surprise?”

You balance the container against the scrapbook beneath it and pop the corner of the lid up. You offer him one of the jelly cookies. They took you hours as you baked and waited to cool before adding the layer of jam and custard.

“Wow, you're a big baker,” he muses.

“Sometimes,” you preen.

He takes one and admires your craftsmanship, “my wife ain't so good about it. But she tries, bless her heart.”

“Oh, you have a wife?”

“Sweetest gal in the world,” he grins, “she's at home with the baby.”

“Baby?”

“Ah, just a cat, but she treats him like a child,” he chortles and takes a bite, letting out a hum.

“Ooh, I love kitties! What's his name?”

He swallows, “Hickory. He likes her better'n me.”

“Aw, adorable.”

“Maybe you can come meet em one day. You and Auggy. Like a double date?”

“Really!?” You snap the lid shut, “oh, I'd love that so much.”

You hear grumbles and the tramp of soles as a shadowy figure appears from the alley. Lee turns and throws a hand put derisively, “bout time.”

August stops short as he looks between you and Lee, his expression limned in the early hue of evening. His brows draw together as he coughs. He crosses his arms and glowers.

“What is she doin’ here?”

“Ask her,” Lee says before he tosses back the rest of the cookie and turns on his heel.

He pulls open the front door and disappears as you stand watching August. He drops his arms and marches towards you, past you as he goes to follow his fellow bouncer. You quickly get between him and the door.

“Sweetie, I brought you cookies!”

“What?” He reaches past you as you put your back to the door.

“I haven't heard from you in…. Like three days.”

He glares at you. You open the container and show your wares. He only pulls on the door, jarring you but not dislodging you.

“I got work–”

“And I brought you a surprise! So eat a cookie.”

He narrows his eyes. You stay locked in a stalemate as he tries to pull the door again. You lean into it and plant your heels.

“I'm being real nice here, sweetie, so take a damn cookie,” you feel a surge in your chest.

“Can't you take a hint?”

“Can't you?”

“What– look, I told you, this isn't a relationship or whatever you think it is.”

“I'm not stupid. This is real,” you insist, “get it? Me and you, Auggy Bear, together forever.”

“What are you–”

“Here,” you shove the container at him.

He doesn't move but you jam it into his chest and he finally relents and supports it.

You slide the book from beneath it and open it up, “this is our future. You see? Our home,” you show him the little touches of colour amid the neutral hues, a perfect melding of your personalities, “and our honeymoon. I'm open to change but I was thinking a cottage–”

“Are you insane?” He breathes scratchily.

“Insane?” You repeat and bat your lashes, “don't call me that.”

“We fucked. Once. There's nothing else between us–”

“There is!” You holler and slam the book shut, “and you know it. You would never have followed me home if you didn't mean it–”

“Shhh, shhh,” he waves you down, “hey, lower your voice.”

“That's what you did. You stalked me, sir, so… you want me too. You want me or you wouldn't have done what you did.”

“Please, just… calm down.”

“You won't even eat a cookie!” You accuse.

“Be quiet,” he hisses.

“Eat a cookie!”

“Would you listen, girl?”

“No! No, you will eat a cookie. I spent all day making them and– and– I'm not crazy. I'm not,” you clutch the book tight.

He sighs, his blue eyes gleaming as he slowly lifts the lid. He takes out a cookie, showing it to you before he takes a nibble. He swallows without chewing.

“There, happy? Now go home.”

You scrunch your nose at him, frustrated, “you could at least tell me you love me.”

“Love you?!?” He chokes and nearly drops the cookie.

“Yes, I know you do, because I would never give my virginity to someone who doesn't love me.”

He blanches and glimpses down at the cookie. His throat bobs. He raises his eyes and takes another deep breath, “I didn't realise…”

“That you love me, right?” You sneer as you step closer, “say it.”

“If I do, will you go?” He growls.

You nod and smile up at him, “I'll do whatever you want, pookie.”

‘Pookie… jesus, alright, I love you. Go home.” He nudges you out of his way and grabs the door with his free hand.

“Don't eat those all at once,” you call as you turn to peek inside the club, “oh, and you have crumbs in your mustache–”

The door slams between you and you pout, “love ya too…” you trail off. It's okay, it seems like it's new for him too.

[thebowieconstricker]

Head Over Heels - Prolouge

(The Creature x Reader)

A Lisa Frankenstein (2024) fic

Alright, monster lovers, I’m gonna try something a little more ambitious: an actual fic. Constructive criticism welcome! Please be kind because I have no proof reader and I’m still learning how to write good stories lol. I’m also gonna be fleshing out some characters to better fit the narrative I have in mind for this story. I hope you enjoy the prologue!

Warnings: slight language, my best attempt at worldbuilding, and our gender neutral reader is an orphan, so discussion of that. Also, (N/N) stands for nickname!

~~~

1986, Brookview, Indiana

“Oh. My. GOODNESS, (Y/N)! You have to try a face mask! It’ll help you with those dark circles under your eyes!”

“But (Y/NNNN), pink is totally your color! Just give it a chance, your nails would look SO pretty!”

“You didn’t even jump! It’s like you’re built for these movies, (N/N)!”

Comments like these had already gotten old around- you checked your watch- two hours ago. You considered yourself a survivor of some ancient teenage girl ceremony. Saying polite “no thank you”s to Taffy and the rest of her much too perky friends was becoming quite the laborious task. Some may say you were being too stubborn, as they had treated you with nothing but kindness since you came to town, to which you’d argue that Tricia certainly seemed like she had a bone to pick with you. Along with her, you had unfortunately seen enough of the world to understand one of the most important rules of high school:

The popular girls were mean, and these girls were certainly popular.

You had no idea why Taffy had run up to you on your first day of school and excitedly introduced herself, her gaggle of friends confusedly following after her. You figured this was some kind of territorial power move, checking out the fresh meat before inevitably deciding to kill.

But then Taffy kept hanging out with you. And complementing you. And begging you to hang out with her group of gals.

You took it as some kind of elaborate bit, but hey, they were nice.

At least they didn’t look at you like you were a rotten corpse walking down the halls.

Your thoughts snapped back to your current situation at Taffy’s house. Her mother, Janet, had actually sneered at you when you walked in, but other than that, the night was shaping up to be your average “new girls first sleepover”. Grease had taught you well. That was, until the truth or dare game started.

Lori had brought it up, and it started pretty normal.

“Who’s your crush?”

“OMG, I’m not telling!”

“Come on, Misty! We won’t tell! Right, (Y/N)?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, no.” You mentally cursed yourself.

This is how it continued for a while before you finally perked up.

“I dare you to go to the Bachelors Cemetary Grove.”

“WHAT??? No way, Tricia! There’s no way in hell-“

Your eyes widened in intrigue and you blurted out without thinking, “There’s a bachelors cemetery?”

The girls turned to look at you.

Tricia raised one of her perfect eyebrows.

“You haven’t heard about it? It’s like- uber haunted.”

That piqued your interest. Life in the foster care system had caused you to grow accustomed to the darker sides of life, and you had always had a special interest in the dead. Your own parents had died in a mysterious fire when you were just a baby, leaving you with no real memories of them. You believed that everyone deserved to be remembered, especially the average, unremarkable person.

(Mainly because you knew that’s how you would turn out, and you’d like to be remembered.)

Enough of that, though, because everyone is still looking at you, so you cleared your throat.

“Would I have to go tonight? Or like, right now?”

Tricia rolled her eyes. “I mean, I didn’t ask you-“

“Oh, shush, Tricia! She’s participating!” Taffy smiled widely at you.

Tricia shot you a look.

“Fine. Yes, tonight. And you’d have to bring back a vine to show that you actually went there. The place is full of them, so it should be easy for you.”

You detected a hint of challenge in Tricia’s tone, but ignored it. You wanted to do this to quench the thirst of curiosity that was bubbling in your brain. This seemed like the first interesting thing you had heard about in this boring town.

You stood.

“I’ll do it.”

Taffy cheered and Lori looked at you in amazement. Misty immediately began to try to talk you out of it, worrying about your safety, while Tricia went silent.

Your mind was set, though. Time to see what all the hooplah was about.

~~~

The walk to the gravesite had been much more peaceful than you thought it would be.

Taffy’s house was constant noise, light, color, total overstimulation. However, the cool mist that danced across your skin along with the eerie silence of the woods soothed you. It helped you clear your head.

After walking through the woods for what seemed like hours, you finally came across the old rusted iron gate that sadly displayed the text, “Bachelors Cemetery Grove”. You frowned, finding the disrepair of the cite pitiful. This place should be filled with respect, not to be forgotten by vines and leaves.

Speaking of, holy shit, Tricia was right about the vines everywhere.

Thick, bright green foliage covered every inch of the area, graves poking out here and there to display faded names. It was enchanting to see so much life growing in a place of death. You could have snapped off a vine and booked it out of there, but you were drawn to this cemetery. Careful steps led you deeper and deeper into its heart as you swerved this way and that to try and make out the occasional name.

Then, through a beam of moonlight that shone through a break in the trees, your eyes caught on a specific grave.

You walked closer and came face to face with the stoic expression of a handsome young man, carved in the same stone his grave was made of. He had a strong nose, with beautifully curved lips and hair that flipped upwards on the ends. He was looking slightly downwards, his eyebrows painfully curved upwards, as if to express a dramatic feeling of grief. Resting beside his bust was an arm and a hand, attached to nothing and slightly curled. He looked like a man that would recite beautiful poetry, professing his deepest desires and most intimate thoughts.

Your mouth was slightly agape as you admired him. Despite your more logical thoughts, you brought a hand up to gently caress his cheek, finding a raised texture chiseled there that suggested sideburns. A sigh escaped your lips as you realized the romantic-ness of it all. A man who seemed perfect, a lover, full of life and emotion, condemned to a permanent fixture in a buried world.

You could say it was love at first sight.

[wordy-little-witch]

Self indulgent ideas for a one piece au-

CoraBug because I am WEAK to clown on clown loving.

Transfem Buggy as well because the blue jester bean is not cis, look me in the eye and tell me that's a cis man, you can't-

Okay now seriously onto the stuff

• Buggy comes out pretty early on in her life, still on the Oro Jackson. The Rogers are all aggressively supportive (some arguably too much so), but Buggy is free, authentic and relatively happy with herself.

• Roger and Garp often have play dates disguised as Good Vs Evil Brawls, which just means they fight for a few days straight then suddenly decide they're done and have a party and feast.

• Rosinante is with Garp for one of these "apprehension attempts", and is frankly just... bamboozled at best. When Sengoku told him to be ready for chaos, he hadn't anticipated this. He's rolling with the punches though!

• until, that is, during the party, he catches sight of this blue haired person alongside the redheaded boy he'd fought briefly the first day before each side's respective leaders went a little too ham on the fighting. Rosi is intrigued. Rosi is also slightly flushed. In his defense, blue hair over there is really cute.

• both cabin kids gravitate to their captain, uncaring of Garp sitting across the fire. Red plops beside the mustached man while Blue moves to step around just to yelp as a large arm lashes out and yanks her into the Pirate captain's lap.

"Garp!! Have you met my brats yet!! Redhead is Shanks, my oldest little nugget, he's pretty damn handy with a sword. And this lass here is my lil' pirate princess, Buggy! Ain't she a peach? Smartest gal I ever met bwahaha!!!"

Garp just arches a brow, looking the kids over before nodding. "Red's a lost cause, but I bet the little miss there has what it takes to be a damn good Marine."

The girl bristles. "As if, you damned geezer!!"

• Rosi is simply Staring Respectfully.

• that's the first meeting. It is not the last.

• by the time of Roger's execution, Rosi, Buggy and Shanks have grown arguably close. The latter two are still soul mates, two sides of a coin, and Rosi love and respects that. He and Shanks have an understanding, that while the love they each have for Buggy is different, it is equally compelling. There is no choosing one over the other. Even if there was, Rosi is sure he wouldn't stand a chance.

• Bug and Rosi both wind up courting.

• a few years down the line, they make things official in a small, private ceremony. It's bright and happy and loud and secretive on a small uninhabited island attended only by their most trusted friends or family.

• Sengoku doesn't approve, but he's willing to let it slide because he really DOES like Buggy, he just hates admitting he's fond of a pirate in any capacity.

• A few more years down the line, Rosi is given the task to infiltrate his family. Buggy by that point is a relatively low level pirate, not exactly infamous but not unknown either. She specializes in information, manipulation and subterfuge. By and large, most consider her a nuisance at best, an idiot at worst. Those who know, however, know she is so much more than that. If there's a cookie jar in any of the Blues or even select places along the Grandline, her hands are in there. It's a good cover.

• they go in as a married couple.

• Rosi still finds Law, and still gets attached. Buggy also takes to this kid like a flower to water, it's her quick thinking that leads to a new facet in their multistage plan. After all, it's not uncommon for couples to adopt, right? And Law needs medical attention, Buggy has contacts and favors but little in ways of getting what they need. Doflamingo is boldly and visibly expansive, so to keep her ruse, she and her husband could arguably look for ways of helping Law without blowing covers.

• Doffy.... buys it. Mostly. He doesn't trust, but he'll allow this to run it's course, he has back up plans.

• only the big flip flop never comes.

• medical intervention isn't available. Doffy has by this point himself grown rather fond of this little spitfire that is his nephew. He's also grown to respect Buggy as well, and he's delighted to have his baby brother back with him. It's predominantly business obviously, but he has caught a few pesky Emotions in the way of this small family. Truly inconvenient.

• he then considers the Ope Ope no Mi. The original idea was for Rosinante to eat it. Rosi already HAS a Devil Fruit, though. It could be fatal to consume two. Buggy also has a fruit, as does he himself. Law, however...

• two birds, one stone.

• Law is much too young for the eternal youth operation (and frankly, Doffy doesn't exactly want his nephew to, ya know, die). And the Ope Ope no mi is the only one they are readily and currently aware of the location of. And Law... is not doing well at all.

• Doffy is watching as Buggy comforts Law one evening from the pains of his ALD, and he makes a decision.

• the eternal youth operation is a bust. They'll figure something else out. They have time. Law does not have time. So Doffy and Rosi both encourage Law to eat this tiny little fruit, both against the wishes of those around them while Buggy holds Law in her lap.

• Doflamingo decides he made the correct choice when he sees Law, some weeks later, running the streets and actually acting almost like a child; he is decisive of it when Law cautiously asks to call him uncle; he is completely certain when Buggy hugs him late one evening and thanks him for saving her baby.

• Law started as a linchpin in a mission, and he became a permanent staple in the lives around them.

• Corazon lives, Buggy's mind playing a huge part in it thanks to her risk-reward reasoning. Law gets two parents and an unhinged uncle. Buggy still gets to fly under the radar. Everyone is happy. They even adopt more kids along the way.

• when Shanks calls Buggy up a little over a year later like "heyyyy I adopted a kiiiid" Buggy sighs and waves Law over with a "fine fine, tell me about my nephew and tell your nephews about their cousin".

"My what now"

"Surprise, bitch. Now start talking."

• they all keep in touch, Buggy establishing a connection to Makino to talk to her nephew and so Luffy can know Law and the others, she also strong arms Shanks into revising his promise so he can still, you know, interact with his boy, all the while complaining about men and their stupidity. Makino then helps facilitate it all when Garp moves Luffy up the mountain, and Buggy actually swings by once she can and meets all three of the ASL trio. She and Dadan get on like a house on fire, Law is trying and failing to understand how these feral jungle kids are alive while also facing the mortifying ordeal of their special brand of D Craziness bringing out his own subtle unhinged energy.

• the Buggy pirates double as a circus event under the radar and visit Dawn once or twice a year officially.

• Luffy, Ace and Sabo have a bigger support system, and so when Sabo is taken, instead of curling up and raging quietly, Ace and Lu make the trek to Makino's and call Auntie Bug for help.

• Auntie Bug and Uncle Rosi both show up. Uncle Doffy is also on call to pull some strings, pun unintended, because he's too far out to get there quickly. Law gets left with the two other Ds under Dadan's tentative watch. Yes, it's a hot mess. Yes, someone may have been threatened with lethal action. And yes, Sabo is essentially bought from his parents. The game was to retrieve him however they had to, so for Rosi... well, pulling the Donquixote Card was an option. They wanted to minimize the casualties or need to look for him.

• Garp returns to Fushia to a message from Makino and Dadan to meet someone a few islands east ward. Buggy, Rosi, Shanks and Doffy are all there, and they all give him quite the dressing down. A Marine, a Warlord, and two pirates give the vice admiral quite the lecture while the kids play happily a safe distance away. Buggy requests (ie, demands) custody of the boys. Not as the Pirate Buggy the Clown, but as a Marine's wife, as Bellelatrix D. Begonia.

• Buggy now has an entire army of children and she's vibrating (/pos AND /neg).

• Luffy, Ace and Sabo have a family, Buggy gets asked the age old "what if Gold Roger had a son" and she point blank cackles, to ASL's confusion. She just shrugs in response. "Then I'd have even more reason to punch him on the Dutchman. Like seriously, if Captain had a son and didn't think to TELL US, I'd be so angry. He knows Shanks and I would have loved that kid like our own little sibling.... I guess, in a way, Roger already had a son and a daughter, not counting your little 'hypothetical', freckles."

• Buggy just about breaks when Ace eventually asks her if he deserved to live. She just crushes him in a hug and tells him that he absolutely deserved to live, that anyone who says otherwise is an idiot and undeserving of the air they breathe. She makes a point to tell all the kids stories of her time under Roger, the good one and the bad, because she refuses to let them out into the world with a black and white view of the universe. It's all shades of gray. They need to make their OWN opinions, not hear them from others and take them to heart.

• she also debates hunting down Garp for sport because this kid's self hatred levels are alarming at best. These don't just happen overnight. She's clawing at the bars of her cage.

• speaking of bars and cages, Doffy is fucking DELIGHTED because he has new nephews to spoil, sorry to interact with - eh, yeah no he's shameless he's gonna spoil them.

• it's all a very delicate balancing act from there on.

• up to Canon time, they've managed to keep most things underwraps. Thing progress relatively the same up until orangetown, where Luffy just goes "Oh hiya, auntie!!"

Buggy just sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Gumdrop, look, the point of a test is to be impartial-"

"Don't care, haven't seen you in forever! Also I knocked out the mayor :))"

"Why would you-?!"

"Didn't know it was you. Wanted to keep him safe :D"

"Ugh. Fine. Fine! You pass, I guess. Good job for trying to keep innocent people safe."

"Yay!!"

Zoro and Nami are just watching this like a tennis match.

• Luffy goes on to kick ass and take names, and Buggy follows him just as she follows her other kids. Sabo has grown to follow the revolutionary army, Ace was a captain for a while before joining whitebeard (and wowza if that hadn't sent her into hysterics), Law and his brothers went on to form the Heart Pirates, it's a good time all around! Then she meets Alvida.

• mean girls squad. Buggy takes one look at this adult woman thirsting after her nephew and goes "haha no. Not happening. Get some help. He's 17."

• she also gets arrested by the Marines and sent to Impel Down. Nobody liked that. Especially not her husband, brother and brother in law. Nor, interestingly enough, Garp.

• Ace also gets arrested. Marineford events occur. Buggy finds Luffy, has several attacks of an interesting variety, and goes a little bit feral. On the way to Marineford, her past is outted, which leads to a deep dive on her history and her civilia identity is compromised as well as Rosi's, so at this point she decides to roll with it and stop holding back. They know now. Might as well profit.

• Ace is saved because Doffy was ordered there to help with fighting off Whitebeard, not informed WHO exactly was being executed, so when he heard it was his nephew?? Oh, haha, no. No way. Not happening. Come on. Give him a break, you can't be THAT stupid ♡

• the War is bloody and vast and Buggy in it all makes a wild fucking plan and spreads it. It works. Doffy keeps his warlord status through subterfuge as opposed to outright disobedience á la Hancock, Ace survives, Whitebeard survives by the skin of his teeth, and Shanks gets there in the nick of time to wrap it up all nice and neat with a bow. Law takes his cousins for medical treatment, and upon hearing from Ace that whitebeard is his pops now and that crew is family, offers his services there too. He gives Whitebeard a little extension on his lifespan, but not much. Dude's pushed too hard for too long to fully save him.

• Buggy gets named a Warlord and proceeds to explode. Rosi and Doffy find it hilarious. She DID pick Bellatrix as a surname after all. The irony is funny.

• Rosi is declared a traitor and pirate due to his marriage, but with Buggy being a warlord, he has not been issued a bounty. ((Yes Sengoku helped with that)). That only happens once Buggy is named an Emperor.

• Doffy finds it fucking hysterical, and makes a big show of bowing or giving a curtsy whenever she walks into a room. She's going to strangle him one of these days. Rosi makes a point if wondering if being married to an Emperor/Empress makes him an Emperor by proxy or like a Duke or something, to which she DOES actually strangle him. It's a hot mess.

• Cross Guild is now being formed, and Crocodile and Mihawk show up thinking "Ah yes easy pickings" until fucking DOFFY shows up like "ayooo- Oh hey croccy baby!!! And Hawky, good to see you, sugartits!!! Rosi, Bugababy, why didn't you TELL me there were hotties here???"

"Sorry, Doffypoo, you didn't ask," Buggy teases back, all relaxed lines and easy smiles. And Crocodile is SPIRALLING now bc WHAT

Mihawk is just staring consideringly because hmmm this is unexpected but interesting....

• anyway hot mess AU that makes me giggle, kicking my feet, twirling my hair-

[legacyshenanigans]

Dude, you just gave me some inspiration. Could you do something with all the lads around the campfire on the topic of girls, then Mc gets into the mix of that conversation. I want to see the chaos of that conversation!!!

Love this idea 🤣🤣💚

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

(All the lads lay around a campfire)

Amit: So..Who does everyone find attractive?

Everett: *giggles*

Leander: Ha, well why don't YOU go first Amit, seeing as you asked the question

Amit: I think poppy is a sweet girl, I find her endearing.

Everett: I like Imelda

Omins: we know *rolls his eye's* you're always talking to her in classes, hanging off every word she says, didn't take you as the type to be into a girl like Imelda.

Everett: I want a feisty women to look after me..

Sebastian: Pfft, Imelda would eat you alive Clopton *laughs*

Leander: Me and Cressida had a little thing going on for a while, she's nice..I like Natty too.

Ominis: Natty is an extremely strong willed gal, she wouldn't look twice at you *chuckles*

Leander: Hey! Shut up..Anyway, what about you three?

Ominis: .....

Sebastian: *smirks*

Garreth: I...Erm *clears throat* I'm not saying..

Sebastian: *knows exactly who he's going to say* Noo, go on Weasley..Who? *furrows brows*

Garreth: And THAT fucking attitude is WHY I'm not saying.

Ominis: I find MC incredibly attractive, for me personally of course its all in who she is, I like her.

Sebastian: Seconded..

Garreth: *furrows brows* Why don't you get mad when Ominis says he likes MC?!

Sebastian: Because Ominis is my boy thats why... And why do you care? Was MC going to be YOUR answer?!

Leander: You three have a strange dynamic, I've see it..

Sebastian: Mind your fucking business Leander..

Garreth: Maybe she was..Maybe she wasn't. You'll never know.

Ominis: PFFFFT! *chuckles*

Sebastian: *laughs* yeah right..Just admit it.

Garreth: Fine, I find MC attractive..Happy?!

Ominis: On the contrary Garreth, you've just opened a can of worms as they say.

Sebastian: *stares at Garreth with narrow eye's*

Leander: Can't lie...I'd probably fuck her too.

Sebastian: Shut your fucking mouth Prewett. Right now.

Everett: Oh for goodness sake, look what you've started Amit.

Amit: I didn't think people would argue?! It's not like MC is in an actual relationship with any of you! Hell, I could ask her out, seeing as she's single.

Sebastian: Be very careful Amit..

Amit: What?!

Leander: She's not YOURS Sebastian. Or Ominis's...Why do YOU care so much?!

Sebastian: I don't..*moody expression* Weasley can like whoever he wants..

Garreth: Then that's my Answer...MC.

Sebastian: ..Not like she'd go anywhere near you.

Garreth: Are you sure about that? *smirks*

Sebastian: You son of a bitch, what did you just say?

Garreth: *laughs*

Leander: pffft *chuckles*

Ominis: They're trying to mess with you..MC wouldn't.

Garreth: Hmm *laughs* strange, considering..

Sebastian: *gritting his teeth*

Ominis: *furrows brows* ...Considering what?!

Garreth: Oh nothing..Don't worry yourself...*nudges Leander and chuckles*

Leander: *chuckles back*

Sebastian and Ominis: *get out their wands*

Garreth and Leander: *get out theirs in retaliation*

(All four of them glaring at eachother)

Amit: Woah woah! Hey!! Come on now!

Everett:....Do you chaps think Imelda likes me?

Sebastian, Ominis, Garreth and Leander: Shut up Everett!

~

[beababoobies]

I don't know if you're still taking requests, but if you are, could I request a Sal x reader where the reader has really long curly hair. Like down to her waist long, and they do little stuff like braiding her hair and decorating it with accessories. Just cute little stuff like that as Sal kinda wonders how she manages that much hair (If you dont want to write it, it's okay and have a nice day 💗🫶)

hello lovely gal! I’d love to do that for you. I am still taking requests and you’re welcome to do multiple! As a long curly haired girly meself, this was fun to write. (Unrelated, but I love your username.) Enjoy!

Roots - Sal Fisher x Fem!Reader

words: 0.6k

Sal loved your hair. Loved was perhaps an understatement. He’d play with it when you were cuddling, running his fingers through it mindlessly as you ranted about your day, school or work. He loved helping you wash it when you showered together, scrubbing your hair products from the roots into the very ends. But his absolute favourite was when you let him have fun with it, style it.

After you let him braid it for the first time, he had practically become obsessed. You brought your accessory collection over to his place whenever you were around, and would sit there talking and giggling together for hours while he did your hair up nice and pretty. You would sit in front of the TV, watching your favourite shows on rerun mindlessly and let him play with your hair.

And that’s exactly where you were today; sitting on his bed while petting a very sleepy Gizmo in your lap, belly up and purring softly at you while Sal worked on your hair, humming softly along with the music you had put on in the background. Today he had gone with two long braids, and he was spending his time clipping all your little plastic butterflies and flowers into them.

“You almost done, love?” You asked as you pet Gizmo across his tummy, another low grumbling purr emanating deep from the felines throat. Sal gave a soft hum in response, and you felt him begin to pin up the braids to your head. “Gonna make me look real pretty, hmm?” And he responds with a simple “mhm.” Gizmo gives a protesting mew when you stop petting him for a couple seconds. “Sorry.” You half-whisper with a small giggle, going back to petting him.

“How do you even manage with all this hair?” he asks softly as he starts pining up the second braid to your scalp, and you just shrug, going to scratch Gizmos chin, one hand going back to feel how he had styled your hair, running your hands along the skillfully pinned up braids. “I have this handsome man who comes in and makes it look pretty.” You hum back teasingly, and Gizmo yawns, stretching out before rolling over and landing on the floor, walking out the door to the living room

“Mm, he sounds cool. I’ll have to meet him some day.” He teases back, using your biggest butter cult clip to clip the braids together at the back of your head, leaning back and admiring his work with a smile. “It’s done, my love.” He hums out quietly, turning you over by your shoulders to the mirror. You were in absolutely awe.

He has smoothed out your curls on the top of your head, going in and braiding your hair tightly on both sides pining it up in beautiful swirls that met at the back of your head, all put together with your baby blue butterfly clips. You smiled wide and leaned back, kissing him as a small thank you.

“Thank you love, I look absolutely stunning.” You Mutter quietly, bringing your hand up to carefully run over the beautiful way your hair had been shaped. He wrapped his arms around your waist from the back, nuzzling his head in your shoulder appreciatively, before placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Beautiful hair for my beautiful girl.” He hummed softly before sighing contently, carefully kissing the top of your head, before looking back at your hair accessories, before looking back at you with a small smile on his face. “Is it too much to ask you to take it out already? I have more ideas.”

[not-a-big-slay]

Natural

tangerine x fem!reader

summary: lemon catches his brother lying about his relationship, when he witnesses a glimpse of their every-day conversation....

type: fluff

warnings: swearing, very bad attempt to write an english slang

a/n: ATJ can do things to me... I've got this idea in my english class when we were talking about chores lmaoo, now yall know where my mind is at in school. anyway, i need to catch up on andor and avatar, cuz im kinda falling behind. enjoy this fic and if you like it pls comment something, it always makes my day :))

Lemon sighed at the look of another set of stairs in front of him. His brother told him it'll be the last one a few stories ago and if he wasn't already separated from him by the stairs, he would dismember him.

"That gal of yours better be Rapunzel." Lemon said once he caught up with Tangerine. He smiled and led him through a hallway. "She ain't my girl, Lemon." he confessed and kept walking while Lemon frowned. That didn't sound right. "Oh, of course not, she's just a friend you've been living with for this past month, isn't she?". Tangerine rolled his eyes. She was, of course, more than that, but calling her his sounded wrong. They never talked about this stuff, they just let them happen. "It ain't like that, it's just.." he couldn't find the right words for it and that frustrated him. Their moments was the only positive thing in his life right now and he didn't want to dig too much into it, worrying it'll be destroyed by his overthinking.

"Just fuck off, okay? I ain't intrested in your nit-picking, alright? You're lucky I'm even bringing you" he sighed and stopped in front of a door, leaning in the door frame. Tangerine had sudden second thoughts. Would she like to be introduced to his brother? Is it okay for their situation or is it too far? He would hate to scare her away, but she already heard about Lemon, so maybe it would be okay. He brought his hand to his mustache and caressed it around, deep in thought.

"Can she sense your presence or are you gonna knock?"

He almost jumped at his brother's voice that was too close to his ear. He turned to him, sending him to hell with his expression, but knocked as he requested. His heart was beating, a unfamiliar nervousness settling onto him. He was never nervous around her. In fact, this was the only place that he could truly relax in. He hated that Lemon ruined it by his stupid nosy questions. He took a deep breath and exhaled at the sound of the door opening.

The stress left him when he saw her eyes shining back at him. Her slightly raised eyebrows studied him, but her sweet smile was present as always, he had to show off his own too. "Did you forget your keys? Come in." she turned and walked inside, closing the door behind Lemon. "Hi there." he said with a nervous smile. Y/N was pretty, he didn't expect that, even though Tangerine said it quite a million times. He thought that Tangerine's pretty standard meant hot for others, but Y/N wasn't hot, not exactly. It seemed to him she was a softy, although he knew better than to believe that. She had a bit of acne on her skin, but that just added to her prettiness. She was cute, not hot, but really beautiful.

"You must be Lemon, right?" she assumed and he just nodded. She shook his hand and said: "Good, now I have most of vitamins in my house. Make yourself at home.". Lemon looked around the apartment. It was small, but cozy. The kitchen was tiny and it connected to the living room, made of one couch, a coffee table, a TV and two armchairs. All of it complimented each other colorfully. Tangerine came back from the bedroom, as Lemon assumed, holding the briefing papers they came for. Their next job started soon and Lemon has yet to read them.

"Alright, here it is." he said and handed his brother the lists, then turned to Y/N. "The window's broken by the way." he pointed to the room with his thumb and watched the girl setting down her cup of coffee. "Oh, I wanted to tell you, it happened this morning. Would you check it later?" he nodded when he heard her pleading voice. She always thought she bothered him when asking these questions when the opposite was the truth. "Yeah, sure. And we should buy more food, there's nothing here." he added, earning an agreeable nod from Y/N. "Yeah, I can do that, but first I'll mop the bathroom, it's about time I think." she spoke. Lemon returned his gaze back at the two.

"Right. Oh and give Emma the red wine I told you about." Lemon's eyes snapped on Tangerine when the words left his mouth. "Who the hell is Emma?" he asked him, but Y/N answered first. "She's just a neighbor, she helped us with the couch, so we wanted to thank her.". Lemon couldn't believe what he was hearing. His brother, an assasin, a total dickhead, thanked someone with a bottle of wine for moving a couch. "Tang, will you help me with the dishes one you're back?" Y/N said when she put the cup into a sink. "Of course, love. We gotta go now, though." he aknowledge the time and walked back to the door, stopping next to frozen Lemon that couldn't still comprehend what has happened just now. "You coming?" Tangerine spat and made his way outside, Lemon following slowly behind, waving to Y/N nervously. She waved back before her eyes widened with realization. "Oh! Tangerine!"

The man turned around, watching her swiftly walking up to them, holding a full trash bag. "Will you please take it out?". Once he nodded, she handed it to him and gave a small kiss on his cheek. She smiled a bit and said goodbye. "It was great meeting you, Lemon." she exclaimed and Lemon returned her words before the door closed again. Lemon then stared at Tangerine until he sighed and finally asked, stopping in his tracks: "What?". Lemon only widened his eyes more. "What do you think? What was that supposed to be?" he laughed at the absurdity of his brother's obliviousness. "Bruv, this ain't no talking stage, you're bloody married."

Tangerine scoffed at that. It wasn't like that. He lived with her for a while now, because of death threats he and Lemon recieved. They thought it would be better to separate for a bit, until it dozes off. Y/N was one of their old intel and helped them with a job once. Even though she wasn't an assasin, she gathered information for a lot of them and sold them for quite good money. He reached out to her then and they've been living together since. Lemon said that they can come out of the hiding now, but he didn't move back in with him, and doesn't plan on to.

He couldn't deny there wasn't something between them, but he wouldn't call it dating, Yes, they sleep in the same bed. They cook together and drink wine together and they are concerned when something in the house broke. Y/N treats his wounds from jobs and he returns her kidness in bed. Yet they have never talked about it. It just happens one time. Their first kiss was on the balcony, late at night when none of them wanted to sleep. It was a clear decision, he wanted to do that and she as well. He was so certain of it and it just came naturally. The next morning no one uttered a word of it, but she kissed him during breakfast, smoothly, as if it was a normal thing to do, just natural. And thus everything else began, every next step came in its own time, both of them weren't trying to take it, they knew when it was time to do so. Everything between them was clear.

Y/N told him she loved him, as if it was an obvious thing to say. He said it back two days later, feeling certain of it. Lemon didn't understand their connection and he wasn't right to assume so.

"You¨ve got it wrong, Thomas." he walked pass him and out of the building. The goal was to anger Lemon with a bad reference to his favorite show, but he laughed out loud and confidently followed Tangerine out. "Does she know that, though?"

She was his girl.

Tangerine rolled his eyes and went to throw out the trash. Lemon won't get it, but as long as they were sure, he couldn't give a shit about his opinion.

However he had to admit one thing he said.

‎

[illylli]

Good Times for a Change (Pt. 1) | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

→ All it takes is a twenty-minute car ride for Eddie to start crushing on you.

→ 2.5k words: eddie’s POV, the overachiever x metalhead dynamic i always tend to write, eddie basically being max’s new (much healthier) older brother, reader being a sweetheart and eddie is just instantly awooga heart-eyes

→ a/n: sorry i’ve been away so long! work has been crazy and i haven’t had a spare moment to write :’( i will get back onto finishing up ‘bite my tongue’ and some other fics i have planned as soon as i can x

♫ mood: ‘please, please, please, let me get what i want’ by the smiths

part two

“Shit, shit! Piece of shit.”

Eddie’s knuckles were taut white as he shoved the key further than it would go, receiving nothing but a sputtering engine in response. He burst with a shout, slapping his hands down on the weathered steering wheel, his hair jerking as he raged in the driver’s seat.

This had to be a sign. An ill-omen that he was destined to be stuck in this hellish loop, repeating senior year for eternity. The first day back to good ole Hawkins High, and he was going to be late because his trusty gal decided to go frigid on him.

Despite being at it for a solid ten minutes, enough that he was panicking now, Eddie refused to give up, shoving the creaky door open and rounding on the hood. Did he have any idea what he was doing as he hoisted it up? Nope. But he was damn sure going to fiddle with everything at least once to see if it made any difference.

His eyes flitted between the front door of the trailer and the over-complicated metal innards of the van. He could wake Wayne up; he’d know for sure what to do. But as quickly as the thought entered his head, he shook it out. He wasn’t going to interrupt his uncle’s well-deserved rest for something he could figure out himself.

He always figured things out, in the end.

This time, though, it seemed he wouldn’t need to.

A cream Porsche 911 rolled forward, windows down, allowing a Smiths song to swirl in the air. Eddie scrunched his nose at the sound, turning around to bear witness to the way you, bright-eyed behind your round sunglasses, popped out and half-jogged up to the Mayfield family’s home, knocking thrice and bouncing on the heels of your shiny black boots as you waited.  

Eddie only realised he had gone slack-jawed when the emerging Max gave him an annoyed glare as she exited. Her arm was immediately linked in yours as you turned back to your car, a flurry of words bubbling from your perfectly-poised lips. You couldn’t be more opposite to the redhead, who sulked all the way to the passenger side, waiting with crossed arms as you opened the door for her.

It was then, as you were shutting the door gently, that your eyes peered up over the lenses of your glasses and caught Eddie Munson leaning over his van engine, staring at you.

He felt his cheeks flush stupidly as he quickly brought his eyes back down, hoping you wouldn’t say anything, but knowing you would.

The preppy now-senior who was always voted ‘most likely to exceed’ in every yearbook didn’t belong in a dump like this. Though Eddie’s curiosity wouldn’t take him as far to ask you why.

“Gimme a sec,” You told Max with a tap to the roof of your car, before Eddie heard the gravel beneath your boots crunching as you made your way over to him.

Eddie got to looking busy, fidgeting with the cap on one of the compartments, his fingers staining with grease as he twirled it off.

“Need a hand?” You asked sweetly, and though Eddie didn’t mean to let it slip, he huffed in amusement at the thought of little miss perfect getting her hands dirty.

“No I’ve uh,” he gave a tight grin, pulling at another mystery part of the engine, “I’ve got it, sweetheart.”

You bristled at the term, unsure if it was used genuinely or with condescending intent. “Right,” you nodded, glancing down at his hands, “I’ve just never seen someone use a dipstick to measure engine coolant.” You bent over, tapping on the side of the semi-transparent container. “You can see the levels marked right here; in case you didn’t know.”

Eddie heard snickering, his gaze darting over to your car where Max was hanging out of the window, laughing at him. He hadn’t seen his neighbour smile, let alone hear her laugh before. He wasn’t sure if being the cause of her amusement should make his embarrassment grow or lessen.

“Leave the dipstick alone,” Max called, “He’s going to make us late.”  

You rolled your eyes with your back turned to her, though you wore an endeared smile, and it eased Eddie. Your first shared joke, and he wasn’t even sure you knew his name.

You brought your manicured hands to your hips. “Edward Munson, right?” You asked, as if reading his thoughts.

He winced slightly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Eddie’s fine. Or dipstick, as lovingly dubbed by my nefarious neighbour.” He said that last part over your shoulder, and Max threw up a middle finger.

“Well, Eddie,” you tested his name, “Are you going to play mechanic all day, or do you want a lift to school?”

Eddie sighed, closing the van’s hood. That meant you remembered the fact that his name hadn’t been amongst those called out on graduation day last year. Shame crawled up his throat and he swallowed it down as usual.

He lingered for a second, letting The Smiths serenade his decision as he retrieved his backpack from the van before locking it up.

“I’m all yours.”  

With a content nod you lead him to your car, and only then did he realise it only had 2 doors. Max eyed Eddie as you bent over, pulling the driver’s seat forward. He widened his eyes at her, a response to her silent dare, but also a tactic to stop his gaze from slipping to the bare back of your thighs and up higher, where your skirt hem danced just below your-

“Eddie!”

His eyes snapped back to Max’s bright blue then away to the treeline, coughing awkwardly as you straightened, motioning for him to climb into the backseat. When he didn’t immediately go for it, you frowned up at him, then back to Max.

“Everything okay?”

Max narrowed her eyes at the young man. “I’m fine.”

“Peachy,” Eddie muttered, smiling to himself as Max scoffed. He clambered, with effort, into the backseat, his knees almost coming up to his chest in the tiny car. Max made a point to push her seat back all the way, cramping him further as she gave herself a lot more leg room than she needed.

“Comfortable, Mayfield?” Eddie grumbled.

“Yup,” She bit back, putting her feet up on the dash, which you quickly swatted down.

“Seatbelt,” You instructed, pushing your seat back into position, mercifully giving Eddie extra room to stretch out behind you. He had to hunch over, otherwise his head would be against the low roof.

Morrissey was pleading, “Let me, let me, let me” as you put the car into drive, circling around, driving past Eddie’s van and along the dirt road to exit the trailer park.

You drove with the windows down, and as you picked up speed, turning onto the paved road, Max opened the glove compartment, riffling through your collection of cassettes.

Eddie wasn’t hopeful, but he popped his head between the front seats, scrutinising if you had anything good. The Cure, Bowie, Cocteau Twins; not exactly his taste, but at least you weren’t totally hopeless.

“Check my bag,” you told Max, pointing to the back. She rounded on Eddie, frowning at him with her hand outstretched. He looked left then right, muttering a curse as he realised the sage green bag had been squashed under his reeboks.

Max waited impatiently as he pulled it up, unzipping it before handing it to the girl. He’d gotten a glimpse into your life in that split second: lipstick, a couple dollars, and a whiff of maddening perfume surrounding a small package wrapped in butcher’s paper.

As soon as Max laid eyes on the contents her annoyance faded to curiosity. You nodded, encouraging her as she picked up the small box.

She tore into it, unwrapping a tape with a purple cover.

“Kate Bush?”

You smiled, eyes still on the road. Eddie watched the exchange through the rear-view mirror as he relaxed into the soft leather seat.

“She got me through my freshman year. She’ll get you through yours.” You reached over and tugged on her braid, and she shoved your hand away, but a small smile stayed on her lips.

Max switched out The Smiths for her gift, and though it definitely was not something he’d be caught dead listening to, Eddie couldn’t help but feel his soul warm every time he got to witness someone fall in love for the first time. Max sat back, her glassy eyes wide and reminiscing as she turned her head and watched the trees fly by, the music sinking into her.

Eddie wanted to ask how the hell a senior with an express ticket to an Ivy League college had come to befriend his sulky young neighbour, but he knew better than to interrupt the listening session, a comfortable silence falling as you appreciated the record.

He took the time to admire the way your delicate pearl bracelet swayed each time you shifted gears, your handling of the car so smooth he could barely feel it each time. The realisation finally struck him that he, Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, was getting chauffeured by the most well-liked person of the school.

And no, popularity had nothing to do with it. You were far from ‘popular’; those who were envied and unapproachable. You were the people person: a rare mix of agreeable and adaptable that made absolutely everyone at the very least neutral to your presence. You could pick any table to sit at during lunch, strike up a conversation with anyone, be it teacher or student, and have them smiling the whole way through.

Hell, you’d managed to squeeze a few out of Mayfield, despite her usual stormy disposition.

As the previous song ended, Eddie spoke into the silence before the next began, his hands wrapping around the seat on either side of your head.

“You make this a habit?” He asked, “A shuttle for the wicked?”

You peered at him through the rear view, humour sparkling in your eyes. “This is a one-off for you, Munson. I only promised Max my wheels for the school year.”

“Why is that, I wonder?” He mused mischievously, turning his attention to the younger girl, “You got some juicy dirt on the future valedictorian?”

“Oh, of course,” Max turned in her seat, facing Eddie through the gap in the headrest, over-enthusiastic, “She sells drugs to kids and failed senior year twice.”

“Har har,” Eddie fell back into the leather, wearing a tight-lipped smile, “Great joke.”

“The greatest joke of all is in the backseat wearing his shirt inside out,” She muttered, turning back to the front.

“Hey,” you warned, but your tone was gentle. Max faced out the window again, and your eyes caught Eddie’s in the mirror. “She’s right, though.”

His heart sunk.

“Your shirt’s inside out.”

He looked down, uttered an “Oh,” just as you pulled into the car park.

“Wait,” you told Max, her hand on the door handle. “Did your mom pack you lunch?”

“No,” She replied, as if it were a fact of life.

You pulled your bag onto your lap, retrieving a lunchbox with a faded wonder woman adorning the front. “I didn’t know what you like, so I made one ham and one turkey. There’s also a fudge brownie in there. Just bring back whatever you don’t eat.”

Max frowned as you passed the box to her, caught off guard.

“Thanks,” she murmured before leaving without so much as a goodbye to Eddie.

“Have a good day!” You yelled out the window, “I’ll meet you back here at three.”

She nodded before sliding her headphones onto her ears.

“Is the big juicy secret that you’re actually her mom?”

Eddie’s voice made you jump, and you remembered he was still in the back.

He reached forward, leaving a teasing pinch to your arm. “Are you secretly like, forty-five, but super good at doing your makeup, or something?”

“Or something,” You retorted, pulling the passenger seat all the way forward to give him a way out.

Instead of leaving, he pulled his shirt over his head, flipping it the right way out. He glanced up, catching you looking at his chest, then looking away when you noticed.

Eddie chuckled as he shrugged the shirt back on. “Wouldn’t want to make a bad first impression, right?”

“More like third impression.”

“Hey, third time’s the charm, don’t they say?” He leaned forward to go, but paused, his guitar-pick necklace dangling in your face. “Mommy dearest didn’t pack my lunch, either, y’know.”

You laughed, shoving him. “I’m not a charity worker. You can eat from the cafeteria like all the other neglected kids.”

He felt it then. What everyone else must have, when in your presence. The distinct magnetism that came with this easy flow, like you’d been friends for years, when in reality you’d only officially become acquainted twenty minutes ago. He didn’t want to leave.

“I’m guessing I won’t see you there?”

You looked up at him, and he wondered if everyone felt their heart stop when you looked at them like that.

“You might.”

He chuckled, “How does this work? Do I chant your name three times into the boy’s bathroom mirror and you show up at my lunch table?”

“Or you could just save me a seat and I’ll come find you.”

He wasn’t sure what was happening in his chest, but the ricochet of his heart’s pounding made his breath quiver.

“Alright.”

You weren’t flirting with him. You were not flirting. You were just being nice. You were like this to everyone.

Eddie was trying to get it through his thick skull, but no matter how many times he told himself, he couldn’t believe it. Especially not when you hurried out to meet him at the passenger side to offer him your hand as he climbed out, your free one landing gently on his head to make sure he didn’t bump it on the way out.

“Your hair’s really soft,” you complimented.

“You too,” he stammered, “Uh, I mean, it looks-“ He reached out, pushing a stray lock behind your ear, then immediately regretting doing it without asking. “Mhmm. Yes. Confirmed.”

What was happening to him? His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. A betrayal of his own body that worsened when he realised he hadn’t let go of your hand.

“Shit. Sorry.”

As he let go, a group of jocks passed by, subtlety lost on them as they glared at him.

“Thanks for the ride,” Eddie said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, “Anyway. See you at lunch. Maybe.” He backed up, feeling the tension in his chest lighten slightly the further he got away, “If you’re not there by second bell I’ll start chanting.”

You tittered. “You’re really not doing anything to quell the satanist rumours, are you?”

“That’s what I’ve got you for, angel,” he winked.

→ message me to be added to the taglist for this character → comments & reblogs are super appreciated as it encourages me to post more → please do not repost any of the writing in this post, thank you!

tags: @andperset​ @1a-ma1a-su3rt3​

[ninthskzmember]

Birthday, debut.

Word count: 1,9k.

Warnings: Kind of suggestive, a few curses, kind of fluff too.

a.n: Hi, you can call me MoonJin, I'm 23 years old and this is the first thing I am publishing. I'm really open to constructive criticism! You all can suggest me anything, and make requests too! Hope you like it. If this gets some kind of support, I'll probably make a part two. I'm so full of ideas!

July 20th, 2019.

“Moonlight, wake up.” Minho moved my legs softly, trying to wake me up. I could feel the masculine cologne in the room.

“Just five more." I rolled over to the other side of the bed, facing the wall.

“It's your solo debut day... Happy birthday, by the way.” I could hear his cheeky smile, making me smile too. I turned around, and I could see his cute, swollen face from sleeping.

“Thank you, Min.” I answered as he handed me something in the dark room, the only light coming from the almost closed door that takes you to the aisle where the other room is and then to the living room.

“Jagi-ah, happy birthday!" Hyunjin entered the room where Minho and I were with a bouquet of roses in hand, opening the door widely.

Minho and I covered our eyes in pain for the sudden hit of light after being in the dark—and asleep—for so long.

“Hwang Hyunjin, you did not have to do that." I scolded the tall one, as if he were not my sunbae.

“I know you love this kind of thing even if you try to hide it, Moon. Now you have to wake up; it's a big day in numerous ways. NINETEENS KITSCH”

The boy who is only a few months older than me is way more excited than my oppa sitting right at the side of my legs, still with his hand on my thigh from when he tried to wake me up, and I still have his gift in my hands.

“Thank you, Jinnie.” I laughed it off. “Put those in the water; I'm waking up right now.” The two pairs of eyes followed my movements as if I were some kind of weirdo. “What?”

Minho and Hyunjin looked at each other and just made some type of grin.

“Am I missing something?”

“How are you so calm?” Minho talked after a while. “When we have a comeback, you can barely shut the fuck up." He joked, and Hyunjin laughed out loud.

“I know I should be excited... And I am! I'm just... To me, you know, you guys are my everything. I know a lot of idols can't wait for their solo debuts, but, to me, it is missing eight nineths of me. I have so much fun on stage... I'm just worried I won't like it that much.” It was my turn to give a worried grin.

“Yeah, Hyunjin-ah can take it from here." Minho got up and left the room, making me laugh. That's classic Lee Know.

"Angel,” he made his way to me once we were alone after leaving the bouquet on top of my bed, even though the door was still open. “We might not be up there on stage with you, but the eight of us will be looking proudly at our girl.” He smiled sweetly at me while hugging me by the waist, pulling me closer to him.

“I know you know I know, but not everybody knows, so you should close the door at least." Felix's deep voice made it's way to our ears, and we looked at him, closing the door behind him. “Happy birthday, you annoying cunt.” My best friend did let out the brightest smile ever and opened his arms to me as I made my way to him, winning a whine from Hyunjin.

”Get over it, Hwang. She prefers me still.”

“Don't fright over me. There's enough MoonJin for everybody.”

“WHERE'S THE YOUNG LADY?" Changbin slammed open the door with so much energy that you could tell he's had a ton of caffeine, and it's not even 7 a.m.He was followed by an equally energetic Jisung.

When I see them being chaotic, I can't help but think about Crash and Eddie from The Age of Ice. The cartoon.

"I think that's me." I raised my hand shyly.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" The two of them screamed and took me from Felix's arms, who was still holding me, making a me-sandwich in between them.

“You'll kill her with your tits,” a chill Seungmin was supported by the door's frame. “You'll suffocate the birthday gal."

"She'll die happily.” Jisung added, and everybody started laughing, except for Hyunjin, whose moment with him was long forgotten.

"What's so funny?” The maknae appeared out of the blue.

“Your face." Seungmin responded with the same aura as before "Who gave you this?" He took the roses from the bed.

"Who else would?" Felix raised his eyebrows and pointed at himself, making me smile as I flashed a glance at the original person who brought it to me.

“What's got you all moody, Hyung?" Jeongin saw the movement of my eyes.

"I was wishing her a happy birthday first."

"Actually, the first one was Minho Oppa." I teased and heard a chuckle from Felix.

"He remembered?" Jeongin asked, surprised.

"Just because she's debuting today." Seungmin answered calmly.

"Well, anyway, thank you all so much for your birthday wishes... I have to get ready for the day. Thank you so much, Felix, for the bouquet." I stated, as I started pushing everyone out of the room.

"Hey, this is my room too." Changbin crossed his arms on top of his chest.

"Yeah, and mine." Felix added.

"CHRIS OPPA, THEY'RE NOT LETTING ME GET READY, AGAIN." I screamed over to our leader, whose appearance was immediate.

"Happy birthday, sunshine." he said as he gifted me a small box with a bright smile on his face.

As I opened the thing, you could see a little moon hanging from a thin chain, everything covered in gold.

"Oppa, you didn't have to..." I pouted as I went ahead and hid on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me, still smiling adorably.

"I know I didn't, but I wanted to. You're always working hard. Just a little way to show gratitude." He kissed the top of my head.

"Thank you so much. I really appreciate this. I won't ever take it off." I smiled while taking the thing out of the box, handing it to him, and turning on my back so he could put it on my neck.

I made eye contact with Hyunjin, whose face was still in a frown. Felix pouting at the moment between our leader and me, and Changbin hugging him.

"There you are." Chris took my hair and placed it on my back again. "Now, the three of you get the fuck out of here and let the girl get ready for her big day." He looked at the guys, one by one. "What even are you doing here?" He asked with a soft laugh when he saw Hyunjin taking a seat on Minho's bed.

"I was talking with her."

"You can talk with her later, Hyunjin-ah. She's already running late." Chan made a movement with his head towards the door, and the younger one rolled his eyes.

He's so moody today.

"I'll take care of him. Take the other two, please." I laughed, and Hyunjin's face softened.

Chan nodded and took Changbin and Felix with him to have breakfast in the kitchen.

"You were saying?" I smiled at a not-so-grumpy Hyunjin.

"Thank you so much, Felix, for the bouquet." he said with a funny voice, imitating me.

"You know that sentence was directed at you, silly."

"You still said Felix."

"Hey, he's still covering for us when he does not have to. You should appreciate it." I scolded the tall one.

"You didn't thank me." he pouted.

"Thank you so much, Hyunjin-ah, for the most precious bouquet anyone has ever gifted to me." I walked towards him with a sweet smile on my lips.

"That sounds like the most beautiful melody to my ears." he said, his hands back to my waist, pulling me in again.

"So you don't like Kistch at all?" I giggled

"Oh, c'mon" he said, rolling his eyes. "You can be a little Lee Know when you want to." The boy added some kind of annoyed tone to his voice.

"Yeah, I spend like... most of my day with him."

His face dropped again.

"Stop being a jealous fuck!" I pushed him playfully.

"I will when you finally admit that you're in love with him and not me."

"Oh my God, why are you so dramatic?" I really laughed out loud.

"You did not give me a good morning kiss." flashed his eyes to my lips and back to my eyes.

"I don't ever do that."

"You should start, like, right now."

"You are taking my precious time."

A knock on the door was heard.

"Moon-ssi, you really need to get going." Felix's voice again

"See, he's still covering for us. If it was Seungmin that was sent to call me, he'd just open the door and catch you asking for kisses."

"Just admit that you love everybody else but me at this point, God." he exaggerated on purpose, being even more dramatic than before.

"I'm going, Lix." I said this towards the door and placed a sweet, soft kiss on the boy's lips, winning a big, bright smile from him.

"Give me a proper kiss before I leave." He pulled me back.

As I leaned close to him, my phone started ringing.

"tall, blonde, Australian."

"I know for a fact that's not Yongbok... or Chan Hyung." Hyunjin said while his lips were still in position to receive a kiss. I took my phone and answered.

"Hey, Luke." I said while looking straight into my member's eyes as his face dropped again, making me laugh.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Three voices screamed at the phone.

"Thank youuuu~" I laughed, still wrapped around Jinnie.

"You're very welcome" Michael answered joyfully.

"It's not my birthday there yet, though."

"It is." Ashton said, adding a bit of mystery to the conversation.

"It's like two in the afternoon over there... It's still the 19th."

"Nah, it's like around seven in the morning" Luke said, like it was obvious.

"What are you talking about?" Hyunjin is plating kisses on my face and neck while

"Yeah, well. We kind of just arrived in Seoul." Ash talked again.

"YOU WHAT?" I screamed right in front of the boy's face, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Happy birthday, Luna" a shy Luke spoke. "We gotta do some airport shit; I'll talk to you later. See you at your debut! Break a leg."

"What?! But..." I didn't get to finish my sentence because he hung up the phone.

"What did you yell for?" His eyes were mid-way closed.

"Luke, Mike, and Ashton just landed here." I smiled at him.

"They really do like you, huh?" He smiled back.

"They're my friends, I guess." I looked at the clock. "Honey, I need to get ready now. I seriously need to." I planted a little longer kiss on Hyunjin's lips, and he wouldn't pull away. "Please, baby" I whispered right on top of his lips.

"Fine. But we're going out tonight." He kissed my forehead. "love you" he whispered before closing the door.

I started taking my shirt off, and he stuck his head through the door.

"What now, Hyunjin-ah?" I laughed

"Two things... First, you look fucking hot in that bra. And second, you didn't say it back" he pouted.

"So clingy" I said, rolling my eyes, and he accentuated his pout. "Love you too, pabo"

"Enough for me. Get on your knees," he joked. "I mean, get ready."

"I'm trying." I smiled, took everything, and went to the bathroom.

Part two

[lottiecrabie]

Morning sex with pfms Matty 😇

I know you are not taking blurb requests but I would really really love it if you wrote one about pfms matty taking care of reader during exam season because I know she is a studious gal. “Study dress babe? Let me ✨alleviate it✨” “you’ve been working so hard” all that,,, can you tell that I’m reader 😁😁 If I pass I’ll credit u for sure

i think it’s too late to help you pass but still

she bites at her nails, flicks her eyes between her books and her notes, desperately tries to understand the complex science jargon she’s dutifully transcribed without getting. there’s pink, square letters on the lines; a collection of bulletpoints and highlights and pretty drawings. it’s unintelligible to her.

worry starts to rise in her chest. she feels it near her heart, beating alongside it, racing it. tears prickle at her eyes as she bites her finger beds raw, chews at the skin until it tastes metallic. she swears, wiping away the blood, moaning in pain.

a knock on the window. she stands, opening it to find matty grinning at her. he dips in and gives her a sweet kiss.

‘we can’t see each other today.’ she shakes her head as matty steps inside her room. ‘i have an exam coming up. i need to study.’

‘it’s saturday,’ matty says, like she was a bit silly. ‘live a little.’

again, she shakes her head. ‘i’m really not getting it. it’s— shit, it’s actually hard.’ she gives him a warning look, silently stopping him from saying whatever stupid quip he’s thinking.

‘you sound stressed,’ matty says, frowning.

‘i am.’

‘how about i help with that?’ a faint, cheeky smile shines on his face, hidden under the guise of seriousness. she gives him a look, unimpressed. ‘i meant studying,’ matty raises both his hands innocently.

‘sure you did.’

‘c’mon, let me see,’ matty sits at her desk, peering over her notes. ‘ouch.’

‘yeah.’ a small, pained moan comes from the back of her throat. she falls over her bed quite dramatically, spreading her arms in abandon. ‘my parents will kill me.’

‘they won’t,’ matty waves away, flipping a page.

‘no, they will. quite brutally, even. is the iron maiden still legal?’

‘god, you’re dark,’ matty says almost proudly. ‘and they won’t kill you because you won’t fail. alright. why can the ionization of atoms occur during photoelectron spectroscopy, even though ionization is not a thermodynamically favored process?’ matty looks up at her. ‘oh, we will be here all night.’

and they are, falling asleep clutching flash cards and notes, chemistry elements slack on their tongues. they wake up fully dressed, over the sheets, awkwardly tucked around each other.

she blinks awake, blushing as she notices matty. it’s the first time he’s fallen asleep here, and it’s not even for a dirty reason. there’s a strange feeling coming with that idea. she unwraps her arms around his middle, freeing him, taking her head off his shoulder.

matty makes a small, tired noise. ‘i feel my hand again,’ he says, moving his fingers.

‘you could have moved me,’ she accuses, now feeling terrible for his discomfort.

‘nah. i liked having you close.’ matty rolls on his side, watching her with a smile. ‘you’re cute when you sleep.’

‘oh, god. i hope i didn’t drool.’

‘just a little.’

‘matty!’ she whines. she shoves her face into her palms with a shamed groan.

‘what? i’ve seen worse.’ he tugs at her hand, coaxing her out.

she emerges from them still vaguely embarrassed. ‘thank you for helping me study,’ she whispers.

‘you’re welcome.’ he kisses her cheek, then the other, bending away just enough to stare at her. his eyes dip to her parted lips. ‘now can i help you the other way?’

she reddens, a low thrum of excitement coming up her spine. ‘yes,’ she breathes, looking away bashfully.

matty grins widely. he makes to catch her lips, but she turns her head. ‘morning breath,’ she explains. he shakes his head, but kisses down her neck instead.

matty rolls her on her back, uncovering her evening clothes one by one. she breathes quicker, watching him, trying to make even less noise. her parents are right next door, surely awake.

he licks down her belly, flipping her skirt, before sucking on her clit through her underwear. she jumps, spreading her legs wider, tugging at her own panties to try taking them off. matty listens, laughing as he drags them off her thighs, coming back happy.

he zigzags across her wet core, just missing the parts where she wants him the most. his hands keep her in place, teasing her until she’s dripping on the sheets.

‘matty,’ she whispers. ‘please.’

‘so polite,’ matty taunts, though gives in to her still.

his lips wrap around her bud and he sucks, flicking it a few times. his fingers thrust into her. he follows the familiar, known rhythm, one that has her kicking in bed and tugging vengefully at his hair in no time. she slaps one hand over her mouth, breathing twice as hard to compensate.

pleasure razes through her, hot, white euphoria waving building inside her belly. she feels an indescribable heat. her sweaty hair sticks to her forehead in answer.

pressure grows inside of her, tightening and tightening until she’s so tense she could crack.

she whispers his name, though it’s smothered by her palm. matty seems to hear it still, garbled and muffled, and he licks her with twice the devotion.

sunlight shines on her naked breasts. she pants, giggling to herself, always in disbelief that she’s almost coming until she’s there, she’s right—

‘honey,’ her father knocks at her door. she jumps, opening her eyes wide. ‘are you getting ready? we leave for church soon.’

‘oh, um—‘ matty fucks his fingers faster. ‘yeah, i’m almost there—‘ she bites back a scream, rolling her eyes.

‘ok. we’ll wait for you downstairs.’

as soon as his steps disappear down the hallway, she finally breaks, coming with a killed cry. the tight strings snap and delicious relief spreads through her, relaxing each limb until she’s slack on her bones. she grins loosely, feeling her head sing.

matty kisses her bud, coming up her body with a grin. ‘you’ve got church,’ he says, cheeky.

‘i do.’ she cups both his cheeks, still shortwinded. ‘will i see you there?’

‘if i can’t help it,’ matty sighs dramatically.

she gives him a small, teasing smirk. ‘maybe i can return the favor there.’

he is suddenly deadly serious. ‘i will be there.’

she giggles, giving him a small smack of lips, pushing him away when he tries to part his mouth. ‘morning breath,’ she reminds him.

already dressed from a fitful sleep, matty puts on his shoes and opens the window. she sits in bed, truly loose and relaxed. ‘thanks for the help,’ she smiles.

he throws a leg over the window sill. he winks. ‘any time.’