#staring almost refusing to blink trying to take everything in

[uranium]

honestly a lot of the moments from la5 are fading already but theres certain things that i think im going to remember forever :) one of them being my best friend and i half clutching each other half headbanging screaming our lungs out to our lady of sorrows staring at the band a few meters away from us

[sunshinescribes]

Sandcastle

Pairing: Sir Crocodile x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+)

Summary: Crocodile has only ever known how to devour. Everything he wants, he consumes until there’s nothing left to take—but he can’t seem to get enough of you.

Warnings: SMUT! Obsessive behavior, hookplay, slight voice kink, overstimulation, creampie

Crocodile has only ever known how to devour.

He’s been gluttonous for as long as he can remember, his hunger an untamable beast incapable of being satiated. Everything he wants, he consumes until there’s nothing left to take.

And when he’s done feasting—when the euphoria finally fades and the empty feelings he’s always felt return—he searches for another sacrifice. He’s never satisfied.

Maybe that’s why you unnerve him.

Intrigue would be the better word, but there’s too much truth in it—a kind of vulnerability he refuses to acknowledge. Because then he would have to admit that you aren’t part of his plan to steal Alabasta. You aren’t a fly caught in the intricate web he’s masterfully weaved for years.

You’re an outlier—the one deviation he allows himself to indulge in, all while fearing that the deeper he sinks his teeth, the sweeter you’ll become.

“You’re quiet.”

Crocodile blinks as he’s ripped from his musings. His hooded eyes find you lounging comfortably on the settee across from him. The robe you’re wearing hangs low on your shoulders, causing the fabric to dip low enough to reveal the soft flesh of your breasts. His eyes must linger, because you lift your sleeves with an impish smirk.

Crocodile would laugh if his throat didn’t feel so dry—if he didn’t enjoy your soft teasing, this ability to act chaste as if he hasn’t had you writhing beneath him, debased in every conceivable way.

“Well, more quiet than usual,” you clarify.

Crocodile remains silent as you continue to stare. You’re subtle with your examinations, trying to decipher anything in his micro-expressions to gauge what you believe must be wrong, but he gives you nothing.

You see too much of him as is.

“There were pirates in Nanohana again,” he sighs. A cloud of smoke wafts from the cigar that dangles between his lips. “It’s becoming tiresome.”

The lie falls easily from his lips, just like the many others he has told over the years. False grandiose stories and faux acts of heroism that make him appear every part the savior, and never the villain that he truly is.

He can’t help himself, especially not when your eyes linger on his face with adoration, and something sweeter—something that drives him mad with how he can’t quite place it.

All he knows for certain is that nobody has ever looked at him the way you do, and like every precious thing in his life, he hoards. Your smile. Your laughter. The feel of your fingers tenderly tracing the scar on his face as you lay beside him. This is his—you are his, and he refuses to let go.

The rational voice in his head berates him, hisses about his ever-growing mistake. It demands that he be done with you for good, but the darkness inside of him rages at the thought.

He hasn’t finished consuming. He still wants more.

And you are always so eager to give.

“Is there anything I can do?” you ask sweetly—so sweet that Crocodile almost misses how suggestive your inquiry is.

You hold his gaze, not backing down or shying away.

“To help relieve the stress?”

 You’re so thoughtful, even when you’re wrong. In anyone else Crocodile would find the characteristic annoying. He has condemned people for far less, yet he desires it from you—to know he is on your mind, that he occupies a space that nobody else does.

“C’mere," he commands, exhaling a final puff of smoke and tossing the used cigar into an ashtray as you lift from the settee.

He leans back in his chair. His legs instinctively spread as you draw near, making room for you to stand between them.

The back of his hook trails up your thigh, and Crocodile grins as you let out a soft sigh that is all too encouraging. You’re lovely like this, always so receptive to anything he chooses to give.

Goosebumps form across your exposed skin as Crocodile brings his hook higher, slipping beneath your robe and continuously rising until it rests between your breasts.

“First things first…” his voice trails off as his eyes lift to your face again.

Your breathing is shaky, but he sees no fear in your eyes. Only desire. The same, insatiable hunger that aches within him.

“Gotta get rid of this.”

Crocodile yanks his hook down, ripping your robe in one clean swipe. The fabric pools at your feet, all while Crocodile takes a moment to admire the sight before him. No matter how many times he sees you naked before him, it always feels like the first time—another unusual effect you have on him, but he’s too drunk on the need to have you to analyze it further.

His dick strains against his pants, begging to be buried in your warmth.

He pulls you onto his lap, and you know exactly what to do. It makes his lips curl into a sharp smile as you reach down, hands shaking while you unzip his pants and free him.

Crocodile grunts as your hands wraps around the hard flesh of his dick. You pump it slowly—so devastatingly slow that his hips jerk forward of their own volition, chasing the delicious friction that he craves.

Your finger swipes over the tip of his dick, precum staining your hand as you continue to jerk him off with slow, methodical movements that drive him mad.

“Enough,” he hisses, sounding almost pained.

He positions you above his throbbing dick, lining it straight with your dripping pussy—already slick with your own arousal.

He’s rarely gentle, and even less so now as he slams you down on his lap, burying himself to the hilt inside of your tight, aching cunt.

You let out a sharp gasp, blissed out by the feeling of being filled to the brim. Your velvety walls embrace him, keep Crocodile where you both need him, but he refuses to dwell.  

His hips snap forward as he pumps inside of you with fervor, creating a vicious rhythm that has you bouncing on his dick.

“C’mon, fuck me back,” Crocodile encourages with a deep groan.

Fuck, you love his voice and he knows it. Love the deep, fucked-out rumble against your ear while he’s deep inside of you.

“S-shit,” you whimper as you slam down on him.

You try to meet his thrusts, try to fuck yourself on his dick the way you know he likes, but he’s impossible to match right now.

You lean forward, slinging your arms around his broad shoulders as he continues to use you. You trail open-mouth kisses across his jaw, soft moans and gasps escaping your lips with each powerful push.

Crocodile tilts his head slightly, his eyes are heavier than usual as he glances down at you, watching the way his dick disappears inside of you. The squelch of your needy cunt is like music to his ears, only rivaled by the sweet sounds you always make for him.

And he wants more. He always wants more.

Crocodile is careful not to hurt you with his hook as his arms come around you, pulling you tight against his chest as his thrusts grow frantic.

You cry into his shoulder, your voice cracking while Crocodile pumps his dick deeper into your sopping pussy—pushing you to your limit. He relishes how badly you want it.

Not just your own release, but his too.

“That’s it gorgeous,” your pussy clenches around him, ripping a desperate groan from his throat.  “Tell me…how good it feels.”

“Croco—ah, fuck—” your breath catches as he hits a particularly sweet spot inside you. You can feel yourself getting close, nearly there, all you need is a little push.

You reach down, rubbing desperate circles around your throbbing bud.

“’S so good—you’re s-so go—"

Your voice cuts out with a squeak. Your eyes nearly cross as you fall over the edge, ecstasy ripping through you so violently you almost cry. You come hard, gasping and gushing all over his dick. You are certain his pants are stained with the evidence of your orgasm, but you don’t have the mind to be apologetic or ashamed.

Crocodile watches with wicked fascination at how your legs tremble, how your come drips down his body, darkens his pants. It takes everything in him not to lean down to your lips and silence your cries with his tongue.

His hold on your waist tightens as he fucks you harder, chasing his own release now that you’ve given him yours. You whine—no, fucking sob as his dick continues to pound into you.

“Say my name,” he rasps.

“C-crocodile.” You match his name with each powerful thrust, “Crocodile. Crocodile. Croco—”

He slams up into you one last time, losing himself. His head rolls back, fingers digging painfully into your flesh and his hook nearly scrapes your thigh. He curses—chokes out your name as he comes hard inside of you, damn near sees stars as he fills you up.

You clench around him with a pathetic whine and he almost fucking loses it all over again.

“Do…do you feel better now?” you ask softly, resting your head against his clothed chest.  

No, and he doubts he ever will. Not as long as you have this hold over him. The rational voice has gone silent—abandoned him completely— and only a single word is whispered in the dark crevice of his mind, chanted like a prayer.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

PART 2

[bruisedboys]

drunk remus will forever be my kryptonite. like imagine him just rambling about everything and then he sees you and is like "ohmygodyouresopretty"

hannah oh em gee. drunk lovesick remus is my everything. I love u for this

summary: remus is drunk and whipped

gn!reader 0.5k words

You walk Remus to the bathroom partly because he’s so drunk he can barely walk in a straight line, and partly because you’re just as clingy as he is right now and you’re not even drunk.

Your arm is braced around his lower back as you lead him down the carpeted hallway. He’s rambling about all sorts of nonsense, and you can’t say you completely understand or even catch a single intelligible word. But it’s nice to listen to his voice. Even if it’s all slurred and sticky.

When you stop at the bathroom door, Remus is not paying attention where he’s going and tries to keep walking. You snag his wrist and pull him back.

“Remus,” you say, trying desperately not to laugh. “Bathroom’s back here, love.”

Remus staggers backwards into your side. His eyes zero in on the bathroom door and then he blinks. “Oh.”

You snort but cover it up with a fake cough. And anyway, Remus is too inebriated to hear you having a laugh at him. He twists the arm that you’ve got in your hand to grab your hand with his instead. Then he pushes the bathroom door open and tries to pull you with him.

“Remus, what are you doing?” You giggle, planting your feet firmly on the threshold and refusing to let him pull you any further.

Remus turns, a blunt, almost impatient look on his face. “I’m going to the bathroom, dove. What does it look like?”

You snort. This time you don’t even bother hiding it. “I’m not coming with you, Remus.”

Remus looks at you like you’re crazy. “What?”

You shake your head at him, very amused and very looking forward to teasing him for this for the rest of his life. “What, d’you want me to hold it?” You ask, incredulous. “I’m not coming.”

Remus pouts at you. “Baby,” he whines.

You hold your ground, even though he looks awfully cute when he’s pouting like that. “Baby,” you mock.

Remus scowls. “Fine then,” he says moodily. You know he’s not actually angry but he’s a damn good actor, even when drunk. He drops your hand and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You don’t have to wait long for him to finish. A few minutes pass and then the door opens and Remus appears again. Looking far less sullen, like he’s forgotten all about your refusal to join him in the bathroom.

“Hi,” you say, grinning.

Remus stands there with his hand on the doorknob and a halo of light around his head and blinks. Stares at you hard. Then blinks again.

“Spare me,” he murmurs.

You’re alarmed, to say the least. “What?” you giggle, “Remus, what are you talking about?”

“I swear you’ve gotten prettier since two minutes ago,” he says, and he sounds genuinely boggled. Flabbergasted. “How is that possible? Are you kidding me?”

He takes your face in his big hands and stares at you intensely. He pulls your face so close to his he could kiss you. Looks at you with big wide eyes and parted lips.

“You’re sick,” he says eventually, after a lifetime of his eyes travelling all over your face. “Why would you do this to me?”

You giggle. Your chest feels tight though you won’t tell him that. “I didn’t do anything, Remus.”

Remus huffs. “Sure you didn’t,” he says, all sarcasm. “You’re—“

You kiss him to shut him up. Purely to make him stop talking, of course, and not because his doting is making your face burn.

-

[estrellami-1]

First Cuts

Part 1 | Part 2

“Hey,” Steve says breathlessly. “Y’know that thing that we are not mentioning, ever, on pain of death?”

Eddie blinks. “Y’know you’re still mentioning it even if you don’t call it what it is, right?”

“Eddie,” Steve says seriously, which causes Eddie to focus. “I need your help. I’m kinda freaking out, here.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, running through things in his mind. “Want me to come over? Or wanna come over here? Or just over the phone?”

“I’m stressed out enough I can’t make any decisions right now,” Steve says.

“Okay,” Eddie says, “then I’m coming over. Unlock the door for me, ‘kay? I’ll be there in ten.”

“M’kay. Thank you.” With a click he’s gone, and Eddie hangs his phone back up too, looking around for his keys.

He snatches them off the counter, jams his feet into his shoes, and takes off.

He realizes halfway there that he’s still in his pajamas.

He walks in when he arrives to find Steve sitting at the table, staring at an envelope like he’s trying to disintegrate it with just his vision. Eddie thinks he can almost see the paper smoking. “Hey,” he says softly. “What’s going on?”

Steve doesn’t meet his eyes, just keeps his gaze locked on the envelope. “I did something impulsive. And Robin doesn’t know. And either nothing changes, or everything does.” He lifts his face to Eddie’s. His bottom lip is bitten raw.

“Okay,” Eddie says. “Well, first things first is to figure out which of those options it is, right? I’m assuming the letter will determine which it is.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching for it, only to push it towards Eddie. “I, uh. I applied to a specific school. And I know the kids are going to tease me about it-”

“Hey,” Eddie interrupts, brows furrowed. “You’re plenty smart, Stevie, don’t listen to the little shitheads, alright? Whatever the answer is, whatever you decide to do, I’m with you. One hundred percent. I’ll even punish the little twerps during our next session if they say anything, okay?”

“Can you open it?” Steve begs, whispering, eyes wide.

Eddie’s hopeless to refuse. “Of course I can,” he replies, just as softly.

He looks at the envelope. Good, thick paper. Sticker return address. He opens it and pulls out a letter.

Dear Steven J. Harrington,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been chosen for 1988’s starting class! In Tricoci University, we pride ourselves on…

Eddie looks up at Steve with a grin. “You’re in.”

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes. “Holy shit!” He begins to grin. “I made it!”

“You made it!” Eddie celebrates, then keeps reading.

We hope you look forward to your time here at Tricoci University of Beauty Culture Bloomington.

Eddie looks up at Steve again. “A beauty school?”

Steve flushes scarlet. “Cosmetology. I wanna do hair.”

Eddie sits for a minute, thinking, before he grins at Steve and stands to sweep him into a spinning hug. “That sounds perfect for you!”

Steve giggles giddily, then grins happily at Eddie when he’s set down. “You really think so?”

“Think so? I know so! Stevie! This is gonna be so good for you!” He drags Steve over to the couch so they can both sit. “I mean, think about it. And I don’t just mean the obvious high school shit. Even the little things. You’re good with people, dude. They just like you just ‘cause you’re you. And who knows more about you than anyone else?”

Steve frowns. “Robin?”

Eddie chuckles. “My mistake. General you, not specific. Your hairdresser! You tell them everything. And you live for that shit, Stevie, I see how your eyes light up when the kids share gossip.” He grabs Steve’s hands and smiles warmly at him. “I promise, everyone’s gonna be so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Eds,” Steve murmurs, cheeks still pink.

“And hey,” Eddie says, grinning again. “You’ve got at least one lifelong customer.” He points to himself, grinning when Steve laughs.

“Thanks,” he says, then takes a deep breath, suddenly serious again. Eddie schools his face accordingly. “Will you help me tell Robin?”

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Fic Taglist: @wonderland-girl143-blog

[eunoia-writes]

Back to you • Felix catton

Summary : After Abruptly ending things a few months ago with y/n Felix sees her for the first time at a party.

As the rhythmic pulse of the music filled the room, Felix’s attention abruptly shifted when y/n walked into the party. Time seemed to slow, and the vibrant chatter around him muted into a distant hum. In that moment, everything faded into the background as if the universe had conspired to spotlight her entrance. The air felt thinner, and each step she took echoed like a heartbeat resonating in his chest. Her presence commanded the room, casting a spell that hushed the clamor of the party. For a fleeting moment, the world ceased to exist beyond the boundaries of their shared gaze, and the gravitational pull of nostalgia lingered in the space between them, leaving Felix breathless and captivated by the memory of a connection that time had failed to erase.

She was in that pretty little dress he loved so much. However the arm of the guy she’d walked in with wrapped around the material tainted the image Felix has of it in his head. He wanted to tare the guy limb from limb for being anywhere near his girl. But she’s not his girl anymore.

And that was his fault.

It didn’t take long for Felix to completely abandon the conversation he was in making his way over to y/n who was just as stunned to see him.

“Hey stranger.” Felix said pretending he wasn’t having heart palpitations from the proximity. He watched as the way her eyes welled up for a few seconds at the sight of him before she blinked the tears back making a point of wrapping herself in the boy beside hers arms.

“Hey Felix, this is Danny.”, She said leaning her head onto the boys shoulder “Danny this is Felix.” She said with a tight lipped smile.

“Nice to meet you.” Danny offered his hand to Felix but Felix just looked him up and down and turned his attention back to y/n.

“Could i steal you for a second?” He asked she hesitated for a second before shaking her head.

“No, we’ve just got here need to make the rounds, I’ll see you around though.” She said before grabbing Danny’s hand and dragging him away leaving Felix stood in the same hurt and shock he left her in all those nights ago.

Felix spent the rest of the night sat sulking while the girl he was currently messing around with sat on his lap trying to keep his attention but he couldn’t take his eyes off Y/n and Danny. God what was she going with that guy, she couldn’t love him. Not how she loved Felix he couldn’t believe for a second that she could share the love they had with anyone else.

It wasn’t until she drunkenly stumbled out to the smoking area that she saw his chance to get her alone. Felix pushed the girl off his lap much to her protest before downing what was left of his drink and making his way outside.

He saw her stood in the corner struggling to light her cigarette, the habit that she’d picked up from him staining her still. Y/n fumbled with her lighter, frustration etched on her face as she shook the lighter before returning to try and light her cigarette. Felix let out a sigh before walking over to her flicking his own lighter without saying a word.

She knew it was him without having to look up, she could tell by the signet ring he wore everyday, the one she got him almost four years ago. Y/n reluctantly let him light her cigarette slurring a thank you.

“Can we talk?” He asked as she leant the wall behind them taking a drag of her cigarette.

“About what?” She said In almost a whisper, she knew when she spotted him walking towards her earlier that this would happen. That he’d somehow corner her and beg to talk about what happened. About them.

“You know exactly what.” He said she was refusing to look at him knowing if she did she’d start crying on the spot.

“I don’t want to talk about that.” she said to him staring at the floor. They both let a few moments of silence go by both silently praying the other would talk first.

“You look really pretty tonight.” Felix said and she finally looked up at him scoffing at his words.

“Oh wow you notice for once.” She rolled her eyes as she took another drag of her cigarette.

“Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything.” She now had tears welling in her eyes for that second time that evening.

“Y/n.” He said softly but she shook her head not wanting to let how gentle he always was with her affect her anymore than it already had.

“Don’t y/n me.” She said as tears rolled down her cheeks, she hated the way he made her feel. She hated that she still loved him.

“Farleigh told me you asked about me.” Felix said as she flicked her cigarette out and threw it away from them

“So what.” She whispered he hated the look in her eyes. The hurt he knew he’d caused.

“You could have asked me yourself.” He said and she shook her head in disbelief. He ended things with her out of the blue and the thought she’d still be his friend.

“You decided that wasn’t an option when you ended things.”

“Y/n.”

“No stop it, I won’t do this.” She shook her head once again her arms wrapping around herself as she moved away from him. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t walk away from him but this was Felix she could never walk away from him. She’d never be the one to walk away.

“Can we please just talk about this?” He was begging at this point. He needed a reason to keep talking to her to keep her near knowing if he let her leave right now he’d never see her again if she could help it.

“Can you just leave me alone, seeing you hurts Felix, it physically hurts.” She said as more and more tears rolled down her eyes the wind making her sway slightly.

“No,” he shook his head his hand coming to her cheek to wipe her tears away, but she batted him away “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You already did, you already left me remember.” She croaked her voice harsh from the alcohol mixed the the tears.

“I never meant for- why Felix why did you do it?” She cut him off her emotions getting the better of her as he looked at her his beautiful brown eyes glossy now as he fought back his own tears.

“I don’t know.” He whispered

“Oh wow you don’t know, real mature.” She was upset, angry and confused all at the same time. Y/n didn’t understand why he couldn’t just be honest with her.

“I’m sorry okay, I never meant for things to end the way they did.”

“I thought we loved each other.” His chest physically ached at the sadness in her voice he hated himself for it.

“We did, god I still love you.”

“Don’t say that.” She was practically sobbing at this point close to hyperventilating all the emotions she felt the day he left coming back up as well as all the others she’s buried since that day never allowing herself to grieve the loss of the relationship.

“But it’s true, I love you and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” Felix told her watching the way her bottom lip quivered as she sniffled her cheeks stained with her mascara

“Then why did you throw it all away?” He almost didn’t hear her the thumping of the music from inside almost swallowed her voice but he always heard her. In the loudest of rooms he always heard her.

“Because I was scared okay! I was scared that if I let myself fall anymore In love with you that you’d get sick of me and you’d leave and that would have killed me.” He finally admitted and her response only made his heart break harder

“You leaving killed me.”

“I’m sorry, god I’m so sorry.” He chocked on his own tears “Please.” His hands are on either side of her face “please let me fix this, I can’t keep living without you.”

“I don’t want you to hurt me again.”

“I promise ill Never hurt you again, I need you back in my life pretty girl.” He begged wiping her tears away

“I don’t know if I trust you anymore Fi.” She whispered just as the door to the party opened snapping them out of the moment

“Y/n, there you are… oh.” Danny said as he stumbled over to them y/n took a step back from Felix wiping her own face as Felix let out a sigh “what’s going on here?” Danny asked

“This hasn’t anything to do with you.” Felix barked at him the liquor in his veins taking its effect on his tolerance of others

“I wasn’t asking you.” Danny snapped back at him “I was asking MY girl.” He emphasised the My knowing it would get under Felix’s skin

“She’s not your girl.” It took everything in Felix not to swing for Danny. The idea of anyone else calling y/n their girl made him sick.

“She’s not yours either.” Danny began moving closer to the pair

“Cut it out both of you.” Y/n said shaking her head “I can’t do this right now.” She attempted to walk away but Felix caught her wrist and just like always she was putty in his hands

“Y/n!” Danny snapped at her making her flinch slightly which only served to piss Felix off more “Are you really doing this?” He asked her

“I’m sorry.” Y/n whispered looking over at Danny who just shook his head walking away before shouting, “You two deserve each other.”

Y/n didn’t say anything before she wrapped herself around Felix her head resting on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her petting her hair softly. The pair stayed like that for what felt like an eternity before she finally broke the silence.

“Can we go home?”

“Anything you want.”

[amourcheol]

paris (teaser)

❝You and Jeonghan, jazz-filled corners, hidden history, and the city of love.❞

historical! au | exes to lovers! au | angst, fluff, smut | approx. 45k words (teaser wc. 1.4k words)

s u m m a r y : disgraced by hollywood for the last time, you, a once superstar-turned-alcoholic, escape to the city of love to seek sanctuary from the ruthless tabloids. your sanctuary comes in the form of film noir superstar yoon jeonghan, the enigmatic man who taught you the art of acting, lust and love before your fame. when he asks to meet you once, just like old times, you cannot refuse. what is meant to be a simple date turns into a path of passion, pain and everything that comes with fooling around with your ex in the jazz-filled corners of paris.

c o n t e n t s : actor! mc, actor! jeonghan, mc is incredibly bitter and makes bad decisions, agent! seungkwan who is tired of fixing them, jeonghan is the suavest, sultriest mf, mentions of parisian landmarks in this fic, also a bit of french peppered throughout, greek mythology art references, tons of fluff which is also layered with angst, this will be very hurt-comfort, hella ansgty but will have a happy ending mature warnings -> alcohol consumption and abuse, smoking, this is basically sexual tension with plot, slightly drunk making out, oral sex (f. receiving) unprotected sex (refer point to bad decisions), very soft angsty sex, body worshipping, petnames (chérie, mon ange, darling, angel), overall emotional rollercoaster, more tba!

p l a y l i s t : here!

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld​ @sysymei @alaypsy23 @belladaises @jjeongddol @sparklyshuji @forcoups @ilovesungjun @wonwoo24 @scandal-in-bohemia @hopefulchick @superbbananananana @onedumbho3 @fragmentof-indifference @cuntycheol @rubywonu @if-i-like-i-reblog @yoonzinoooo @jungwoos-luvr @crookedwolfruins @leclercloverbot​ @alexai (let me know if y’all want to be tagged!)

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : after three years ... four rewritings later... she may finally see the light ... i am releasing the teaser now but will post the fic when i’m back from holiday! i hope you all enjoy the lil extract <3

read this fic here!

SHIT. YOU COULD NOT DO THIS TODAY.

Suddenly, you wished he was a mere figment of your imagination, because then he would not have to see you in your drunken, disordered state, looking for art that was not there, looking for the past in the present.

But then he began to move.

This very real presence walked closer to you, and you felt your entire body constricting, because Yoon Jeonghan was in front of you, the greatest star in the world was approaching you, the man of your distant memories was coming too close.

“Wait,” he then said, and your throat was closing up, you were blinking rapidly, chest growing heavy, and you needed him to get away. He came closer, and you knew then and there you were going to die on the cold floor of the Louvre, marble eyes on you—

And then your own gaze was glistening, and when he noticed it became harder to contain yourself. “_____, are you all right?”

“Yes!” you got out, but then you proved yourself wrong when a few tears slipped out, staining your cheeks.

The man wasted no time, closing the last space between the two of you as he reached out. Instantly, you repelled from his touch, almost flinching from his surprise. “No!” you rasped out, bringing out your own hands to create distance, taking a step back. “No, you don’t need to do that…I’m fine.” 

You breathed sharply through your nose. “I am fine.”

Hastily you turned to the empty space where he last was, before you followed him like a madwoman around the hall. He watched you, your back almost to him. “What…what are you…” you paused, trying to normalise your shaking voice. “What are you doing here?”

You could feel his inquisitive stare upon you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

That question was not being answered. “I asked you first.”

Because you could not see him, you were not aware of his reaction. Still, it was enough for him to answer, “Well, in the Louvre, or in Paris?”

You gritted your teeth at that. “I think everyone knows why you’re in Paris at the moment.”

“Do they, now?”

You could not help it.

Casting a momentary glance at him, you were taken aback to find his gaze upon you. “Are you aware, at least?” he asked you.

Despite his simple questions, your impending headache, you had to clamp down on your remarks. “Of course I’m aware,” you muttered. “The papers are all over the press tours you’ve been doing.”

A perfectly groomed brow arched at your comment. “I’m surprised you follow the papers at the moment.” 

You knew exactly what he meant. “One must keep check of the stories they gossip about,” you only said, focusing back on the empty space. “Those journalists cannot be trusted.”

“Hmm…” you heard shuffling amongst his clothes—no doubt crossing his arms. “I have read the stories.”

A scoff. “I suppose you believe them, don’t you?”

He noted the cruelty in your response. The actor did not take it to heart.

“I have always believed in the stories you told me, chérie.”

This time, curiosity controlled your movement.

Curiosity had you turning back, forcing you to observe his expression, catch his lie. 

But you found no deception.

No, there was only sincerity—pure as the moonlight shining on the two of you.

Chérie.

The last time someone had called you such a sweet name was too long ago.

How ironic, that it was the same man beside you who had bestowed you this very endearment.

A shuddered breath left you. 

You could not do this now.

You were going to say as much when Jeonghan interrupted you.

“Were you looking for something in here?”

Your furrowed brows had him humming. “I thought as much.” Gently, he jerked his head beyond your figure. “Strangely enough, I was looking for it as well.”

Confused, you glanced back at the empty space, where that certain, mysterious sculpture was supposed to be. “That is why I came to the Louvre,” you heard him say.

There was still suspicion laced in your features. “How do you know that we are thinking of the same piece?”

That ghost of a smile crept up again. “You act as if you don’t remember.”

Your sigh was a little sheepish. “I do,” you said, reminiscing on the memories. “But the name…”

No matter how hard you endeavoured, your memory of the sculpture was too hazy for your half-drunk mind. 

You searched him for an answer. “I’m sure you have not forgotten.”

“No…I have not.”

You waited. His silence had you insisting, “Well?”

When you saw a slight glimmer in his whimsical gaze, you knew that he had something else in mind. The implications had you biting your lower lip, anxiety blooming.

The nerves grew when Jeonghan spoke.

“I will tell you if you see me tomorrow.”

You blinked back.

“There’s an exhibition opening here tomorrow afternoon,” he continued, taking a step towards you, careful not to startle you again. “It’s centred on the sculpture we both wanted to see, but it’s been moved to another hall.”

He confused you a great amount. “How do you know that?”

His stare went beyond you, to the wall. “It says on the plaque.”

Sure enough—when you looked back, there was the notice. Because your French was adequate at best, you did not understand it fully. You simply had to trust his linguistic abilities.

That you could do—you were aware of Jeonghan’s fluency in the language of love. 

He cocked his head, a few strays cascading the side of his face. “You and I could see it there.”

The offer had shaken you. “Why?”

“Why?”

You knitted your brows suspiciously. “Why do you want to go with me?”

The film noir star watched you then, you shuffling uncomfortably under his scrutiny. God, you forgot how intense his eyes were—in fairness, you had not been the subject of his stares for a few years. 

He locked his gloved hands behind his back. “Because you need a break, _____. From everything.”

He offered you a smile. “Let me be the one to give you that. If only for the day.”

You could have crumbled before him.

It was at this stage you cursed yourself for being in such a state. Perhaps if you were sober, you would have carried on this conversation in a more respectable manner, taken more caution.

It was incredibly difficult, composing yourself around the man.

“I can’t…” you inhaled sharply, trying to form the words. “I cannot do midday…too many people, you know…staring, judging…”

“Ah.” He nodded, parting his mouth in thought. “Then tomorrow night?”

Stretching your mouth, unsure, he assured, “They will not follow you here at this hour.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

This time, he sighed, surprised at your anxiousness. “I see you’ve not changed, then.”

You narrowed your gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

But the actor did not seem like he was going to elaborate. 

He instead took another step towards you, a mere two feet left. 

“Do you trust me?”

You tilted your head back. 

What kind of question was that?

Do you trust me?

You did not trust anyone. Not after this whole debacle back home, when almost all your friends within the industry had contributed to your downfall. Hollywood was filled with traitors, the worst being the people who haunted the journey of your disgrace at every moment.

It was impossible to place any ounce of faith in another.

As you watched his eyes settle on you, you noticed an emotion you had not witnessed in forever.

Tenderness.

Tenderness with no ulterior motive—gentle acceptance, as if he recognised your position. As if he recognised your change, the apprehensive nature of your questions, your pauses. It physically hurt being stained with such compassion, when you had been begging for it from the world all those weeks ago.

It hurt, having someone who understood you.

You, however, should not have been surprised.

Yoon Jeonghan had always been like this. Especially when you both were together.

You could have smiled. 

What a time that was.

As if he could read your mind, the film noir star began, “You remember, don’t you? That I’ve never let you down?”

You decided to let yourself slip—you could always blame it on the alcohol. 

“What time do you want me here tomorrow?”

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Sharing (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Melissa takes matters into her own hands when you're cold

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, fluff

You sat huddled on the chair, arms curling around your body. You shivered, a biting wind seeking out your skin with its teeth bared. A laugh went up, loud enough to steal your attention from the woman you’d been watching behind the grill.

You hadn’t expected for the night to be as cold as it was. The forecast had suggested it would be balmy, not chilly, summer still supposedly on the air. Turns out, it was stepping aside in favour of fall’s time to shine.

Jacob was trying to juggle, almost managing it. The glare of the setting sun had you blinking, turning away from him. Barbra, sitting beside you, tutted, shaking her head.

“That boy is asking for an injury,” you said, pulling your legs up until you could wrap your arms around your knees.

She hummed in agreement. The glass of wine in her hand was slowly disappearing, your beer following suit. The glass was cold against your fingertips, another shiver going through you. You turned your eyes back to the grill, finding green eyes already on you.

You gave a small smile to Melissa, half hidden behind your beer. Her own smile was secretive and yet it was the only thing that was warming you. Your arms tightened around your legs, wishing it was her between them, her body warming yours.

Whatever was going on between the two of you was still new, still delicate. Nothing had been declared, no feelings spoken of, but lingering glances kept catching and she’d softened towards in a way you knew was a privilege to experience. Her touch lingered, the brush of fingers sending butterflies erupting in your stomach and electricity shooting over your skin.

At some point she’d begun to take up more of your field of vision and you found it hard to look away.

She looked down, flipping the burgers she was busy with. It was odd, the way she’d invited some of the teachers over for a barbecue. She was fiercely protective of her own privacy, refusing to open her home more than she had to. But then, you supposed, the only teacher gathered in her backyard that hadn’t been invited over before was Gregory and he was hardly one to pry. Or gossip.

You shivered again, pressing your legs tighter to your body. Your thin t-shirt was losing the battle against the cool wind. Summer was long gone if the goosebumps on your arms were any indication.

“Didn’t you bring a coat?” Melissa asked, placing down a plateful of burgers in front of you.

“I thought it was going to be warmer,” you said with a small shrug, “I’m fine.”

She scoffed but didn’t argue with you, returning to the grill. You watched her walking away, eyes sliding down her body, mouth growing dry at the sway of her hips. She must have known you’d be watching, an extra sway there just for you. Her eyes met yours when she turned, those lips curling up in a way that had grown so familiar to you. Soft and knowing, fond and yet behind it something that told you how much she enjoyed being so obviously admired. You could stare at her all day, just watching her, so enchanted by everything she did.

“Burgers?” Gregory asked, wandering over to the table.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like burgers,” Melissa said, already sounding disappointed.

“Nah, burgers are fine,” he said, picking one up. He passed it over to Janine before taking his own, sitting at the table with you.

Jacob fumbled his juggling balls onto the table. One rolled towards you until you flicked it back. It spun away from him, flying off into the grass somewhere. He ran after it, apologising to Melissa as she watched him looking less than impressed. Your giggles did not go unnoticed by her. Barbra made a small noise beside you, stealing your attention.

“What?” you asked.

“That woman looks at you like you hung the moon for her,” she said.

“What? No she doesn’t.” You shook your head, not wanting to admit to what was going on before it even began to get going, “she looks at me like a normal person.”

“Girl, if you don’t see it you need to get your eyes checked,” she replied.

You shook your head again, looking away from her. Melissa caught your eye again, tilting her head in question. You shook your head again, this time in answer, telling her not to worry. She quirked an eyebrow and you gave her a small smile, resting your chin on top of your knees, just gazing at her.

“Grubs up,” Melissa announced.

She grinned as she took her seat beside you, the place that was always reserved for her. The others knew. If they so much as tried to take her place they’d have to fear for their lives. Or at least for their windscreens. You turned to watch her settle in her seat, the young ones scrabbling for food. You laughed, soft and fond. Melissa was looking at you like you’d done something miraculous.

Her hand reached out, landing on your arm before she hissed and retracted it.

“Fuck, hon, you’re freezing,” she said.

“Really I’m fine,” you said.

“No you’re not,” she said, standing, grabbing your arm to haul you to your feet, “come with me.”

She didn’t let you go until you were halfway up the stairs and it was clear you were going to continue following her. Inside, it was definitely warmer, no wind to cut through your cotton shirt. But still, you shivered.

She pushed the door to her bedroom open. You paused in the entrance, not sure if she was okay with you following her. There was nothing that was more of an inner sanctum than her bedroom, the epicentre of her home and her heart. Well, no, okay, the epicentre was her kitchen, but this was intimate in a whole other way.

Her bed was made, a green comforter over the entire thing. It was neat, expect for one chair that seemed to have clothes flung over it, rejected or dirty you couldn’t tell. You smiled, looking at the picture on her bedside table, turned towards the pillow. Her family, right there where she could see them. It was so perfectly her.

“Oi, you coming in or are you going to keep hovering there all night?”

She was standing in front of another open door, racks of clothes hanging in front of her. You stepped inside, feet sinking into the plush carpet. She held out a hand to you and you went to her, a moth to the flame. Her fingers trailed down the exposed skin of your arm.

“You shoulda said something,” she berated, flicking through the clothes on the hangers, “you coulda told me you were cold.”

“I would have survived,” you replied softly.

Her head snapped around to you. Anger simmered beneath the surface but it was softened by the obvious care that motivated it. You reached out, fingers brushing the back of her hand. She inhaled sharply.

“I don’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable here, hon,” she said, “next time just tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

She pulled a sweatshirt out of her closet, soft and gray, and with the Eagles emblazoned over the front. Passing it over, you were engulfed in her scent. Your eyes sought out hers, finding them watching you already, a little frustrated at you but clearly humouring you.

You pulled it on, covering your arms. You shivered again, this time not from the cold but from the realisation that the soft material brushing your skin had been pressed against her skin at one point.

“Thank you,” you said.

Her hands reached out, tugging the two sides together, stepping into your space. Slowly, she began to zip you up, the knuckles of her fingers gently brushing against your front. You looked up, finding her watching you, eyes smouldering. Your cheeks heated and she softly chuckled.

“There ya go, sweetheart,” she murmured.

The way she was looking at you was intoxicating. It was so soft, so heartbreakingly fond, like you were answering all of her dreams. You couldn’t stop yourself, reaching out to her, hands finding her hips as you needed to touch her. Her mouth fell open, stealing the attention of her lips.

When you’d considered your first kiss with Melissa, it wasn’t with the rest of your colleagues sitting in her backyard as you were hidden up in her bedroom. It wasn’t coming after she’d dressed you in her clothes. It wasn’t after causing her to worry about your well-being.

And yet you couldn’t stop yourself from turning this into the moment.

The first brush of lips was hesitant, as if asking her if it was okay. Her hand was still holding on to the zip of the jacket, caught between your bodies, but she was tugging on it until you were shuffling closer. Her lips pressed against yours harder and you sighed into her mouth.

She was everywhere, her scent wrapping around you. The taste of her was making your head spin, something sweet clinging to her tongue that might have just been nothing but a taste uniquely her own. You pressed closer, wanting to feel every part of her against you.

She mumbled something against your lips before kissing you deeper. Your hands slid around, grasping her ass. Her own hand tugged down on the zipper again, slipping inside the jacket, seeking out your warming skin. You whined, arching into her touch.

After so much time, so much build up, this was almost more than you could handle. It was blowing every fantasy out of the water, so much more than you could have dreamed. She was pressing into you, warm and soft and supple curves under your hands until your head spun. You wanted her in every way possible.

“We should…” she murmured, drawing back just enough for her eyes to rove over your face, before she kissed you again, unable to hold herself back.

Your back was pushed against the wall beside the closet door. Her hands pushed the sweatshirt from your shoulders. Fingers tugged at the bottom of your shirt, running over skin, making you shudder. You squeezed her ass, pulling her closer, wanting every inch of her against every inch of you.

The way your name sounded as a breathy moan from her lips sent fire through your veins. Your hips rolled towards her, her hands skating up your sides, pushing your shirt up. She had you pinned to the wall, hands touching, lips exploring, tongue tasting. You were turning into a puddle of want against her body.

“Hey, are you guys coming back? Because we are demolishing this food. Good job, Melissa.”

“No,” you mumbled against her lips, not wanting the interruption to stop you from giving in to the lust turning your heady fuzzy.

“There’s gonna be nothing left for you to eat,” she said, drawing back, refusing to let you pull her back in.

“I can eat later,” you replied, squeezing her ass.

“I’ve been slaving away all night to cook for you and you don’t even want it?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“I can’t win here, can I?”

She gave a short peck to your lips, a chaste kiss that only made you want more.

“Not even a little bit,” she said.

She ducked down, snagging up the sweatshirt again. You sighed, letting her dress you once again, her fingers still zipping it up in a way that made your mouth dry and knees weak. She tilted your chin up, thumb brushing over your lower lip.

“You’ll do,” she said.

“Can I stay after the others have left?” you asked, following her out of the room.

She paused on the stair below you, making her have to look up at you. You lent forward, both hands cupping her cheeks, not able to stop yourself from placing another kiss on her lips.

“You better, hon,” she said, “or I’ll be disappointed.”

“Can’t have that,” you murmured.

She tugged you down the rest of the stairs. You pulled the sleeved of her sweatshirt over your hands. Subtly, you pressed your nose to the soft gray material, breathing in the scent of Melissa. She pushed you down into your seat again, both hands on your shoulders, giving an extra squeeze before she took her own seat.

You kept sharing secret looks and sweet smiles with Melissa for the rest of the night.

[medium-rare-bimbo]

Thoughts in thoughts

♡masterlist♡

MINORS DNI

May contain: Dubcon, age gap, dark! Characters, Stepcest, somnophilia + reminder that I am the least likely to be a furry

༺*:ﾟ･✧･:*:ﾟ･♡ readmore ♡･ﾟ:*:･✧･ﾟ:*༻

♡ eddie drugging you with an aphrodisiac ♡♡♡ after being rejected so many times by mean! Bimbo! Reader hes had enough and decides to drug you, unfortunately he uses a little too much and you're barely awake, withering in pain You need to cum so badly but dont worry eddie is there to help <3<3

♡ hopper cumming in/ on your food/drinks <3 hes got you sat in his office eating a donut covered in his seed or drinking a milkshake that's extra thick <3<3<3 you're so addicted to the taste of him that you can help but crave him in your mouth!!! Anything you eat or pop until your mouth is usually coated with his cum and you wouldnt have it any other way <3<3<3

♡ dragon! Billy dressing you up in pretty shiny jewellery <3<3

♡ nun reader x demon/incubus! Eddie 👁👁

♡ robin fingering you under the counter as you talk to Steve, shes stood right next to you chatting away as if she isnt knuckles deep in your gummy walls !!!! Hes trying to vent to you about his awful date but you're too busy cumming to care

♡ thinking of eddie x cryptid!(?) Reader who is so curious about human norms and stands outside his trailer every night making strange noises and moving things around. He tries to understand you and talk to you maybe even help you but you freeze and runaway :((( he soon starts sitting outside his trailer waiting for you to come back, you stand near the tree line watching him holding eye contact and barely blinking, You look human but the way you act tells him that theres something off about you maybe you're not all mentally there? Each night you get closer to him and eddie starts leaving food a couple of feet infront of him hoping you get close enough so he can ask you something. When you're close enough to the plate you crouch down keeping your eyes on him as you bring the food to your mouth, you're almost animal like. Once eddie sees that you respond well to the food he brings the plate closer to him until you're sitting next to him and hes having an entire one sided conversations with you. He somehow gets you to come inside the trailer and in his room where you're immediately interested in the lamps and strange sticky magazines. He offers the shower to you after he notices your dirt covered feet but you stare blankly at him and he soon realises that he needs to bathe you himself if he wants you clean. It was no easy task however, you were more interested in dragging him into the shower with you than actually getting clean, by the end Eddie was naked and his clothes were soaked and thrown on the floor but you were clean so his job was done. He proceeded to keep you locked in his room and occasionally let you wonder around the trailer park but ONLY at night you've already gave poor old lady edith a heart attack when she caught you staring at her through her windows </3</3  as much as eddie tries to train you to behave you refuse >:(( you were born to make nests in his bed, stare into nothing and freak him out, watch him sleep, kneed his pillow, it's in your DNA how dare he deny you of your instincts >:000 idk I just think they'd be a neat couple <3 breeding kink is through the roof though jesus

♡ dog hybrid! Steve humping your foot like the degenerate he is <3 or humping anything that fits between his thighs you can leave him alone because he cant be trusted :(( he cums on everything and anything that smells like you

♡ rockstar! eddie takes his favourite groupie on tour with him!! Hes so pussy whipped and he doesnt care for any other girl as long as he has you <3

♡ rockstar! Billy, rockstar! Eddie and rockstar! Steve stuffing their prettiest groupie until shes dumb and only saying their names <3 three holes and three cocks match made in heaven

♡ hopper only eats cookies that are made with his wife's breastmilk (or pregnant wife) !!! >:(( no one else is allowed the cookies she bakes for him they are HIS and he will not share (the baby gets some too but he eats most of them because an entire batch of cookies cannot go to a singular baby plus you produce so much they would just go to waste ♡♡), sometimes he takes the baby and sits then on his chest then splits a cookie for the baby to knaw on and him to munch on, its usually when you're in the shower so you dont scold him for eating before dinner

♡ imagine the kids playing dnd at your house, they leave the stuff at yours and you have no other choice but to bring them back to Mike's, mrs wheeler let's you in and tells you to put then on the table (mike can get them later) unfortunately you drop one of the figures under the couch :(( you bend over to get it but it's all the way under so you have to get down on your knees and look, it's all the way at the back and karen has the beautiful view of your back arched and panties showing. When you finally get it and notice her watching she quickly rushes over to you "pulling down" your skirt and "fixing" your clothes it's not her fault her fingers slipped inside you nor is it her fault that you have her tits in your mouth and are grinding away at her pussy

♡ hopper let's you sit on his fingers for as long as you want <3 your almost always stuffed with his thick rough fingers he doesnt mind at all he licks up all the juice that dribbles down his hand then makes you lick the stains you left on his pants

♡ "ghostface billy!, Ghostface! Steve, randy!/ghostface! Eddie" NO ghostface! Nancy + ghostface! Robin <3 they walk in on bimbo! Reader stuffed with her fingers which dont reach the right spots too absorbed in your own world to care, they were originally going to kill you but seeing your teary eyes as you try to squeeze an orgasm out of yourself makes them feel bad :(( while you're struggling to cum robin does some snooping in the drawers closest to her conveniently it's your underwear draw and she finds your cute pink glittery dildo !! She waves it at nancy who stalks over you, holding your body down and a hand over mouth you squeal and try your best to kick her off but it's no use as you feel a second pair of hands spread your now clenched thighs. You dont expect the feeling of your forgotten toy to enter your cunt nor do you expect to hear female voices come out of the masked figures, there are hands all over you and you cant stop jerking your hips. You cum harder than you ever have and you're not sure when one orgasm ends and another one begins </3 you dont come to school the next day your legs too sore and body covered in marks, when you do however nancy wheeler and robin Buckley are oddly interested in talking too you especially when you dont say anything about the two women in masks that fucked you dumb <3

♡ vampire eddie has a vile of your blood and you have a vile of his cum <3

♡ stepbrother eddie who sneaks into your room at night just so he can wake you up with his cock, he doesnt care that you're tired or if you have cheer practice or a test shut up and be his fleshlight

♡ hehehe perv! jonathan definitely has picture of you in a jar that he cums into 👁👁 hes gonna give it to you one day <3 let's just hope he doesnt leave it on his radiator

♡ eddie fucks you to the beat and rhythm of his playlists

♡ dog hybrid! Billy, eddie, steve x dog hybrid! Reader !!!!! Billy's big mean and scary, Eddie's too dramatic for your little brain and steve always makes you feel dumber than you are (he doesnt mean too tho) you always stay away from them especially when they fight but you cant help but gravitate towards them when your heat starts, the problem is all of them want you to have their pups and you can barely walk or move once you heat dies down

♡ I'm a slut for an all boys boarding school x reader !!!!!! Basketball captain! Billy/ swim coach! Billy who likes feeling you up in your swimsuit/ gym clothes, photography student! Jonathan who takes pictures of you in your dorm, delinquent! eddie who you meet in detention and teaches you how to hide under the bleachers so you can both get high and he can get touchy, "bestfriend" steve who shows you around and is basically your babysitter but also comes into your room at night to sleep in your bed, cooking club! Argyle who enters your heart through your stomach, teacher! hopper who always makes you stay behind class and spank you for your skirt being too short, head boy! 001/henry who is always pointing out how every boy wants to rip your clothes off and have their way with you, art teacher! Murray who wants you to pose nude for him but dont worry it's all professional and he definitely wont be showing hopper, orrr counsellor! Murray who listens to all your dirty fantasies and how you're sooo upset that you cant make yourself cum, gym teacher! Dmitri/Enzo who makes you stay behind to watch your tits bounce as you run, teacher! Phil Callahan who gets so flustered when you bend over infront of him idk guys

♡ I'm also a slut for all girls boarding school <3 head girl! Nancy who is constantly "adjusting" your skirt, roommate! Robin who is always feeling your boobs and claiming it's a girl thing, cheerleader! Chrissy who helps you shower after cheer practice, teacher! joyce who rewards you in the best way, teacher! Karen who likes teasing you by running a ruler up your thigh then spanking your pussy. Teacher! Joyce and karen who talk about you in the staff room, eden who is assigned your project partner and cant help but sitting thigh to thigh with you (there needs to be more women in stranger things my pussy cant take this >:( !!)

♡ not to mention boarding school x innocent reader I'm going to kick you in the shins make out with me now

♡ Dustin would absolutely send a succubus Steve's way, by accident, hed find a flyer "get your own succubus" thinking this is a DnD related thing he signs Steve's name thinking he needs an adults signature. you gave steve a heart attack when you showed up in his bed he now has to deal with a dumb succubus who thinks hes her mate and also scold dustin for signing documents without reading them fully. Dustin doesn't know what the problem is, it's not like he got his succubus figurine steve is probably just getting spam mail

♡ stepbrother! billy who always flexes his muscles around you and lifts heavy things to prove how strong he is only to realise that you dont care so he makes a show of moaning your name as he jerks off because that will obviously make you notice him

♡ camp counsellor! Billy who sneaks into your cabin after you push him into the lake infront of everybody, he'll put you in your place dont worry he'll show you how hes supposed to be treated

♡ biker! billy and eddie <3 want them to fuck me on their bikes NOW !!! They're in different gangs and hate eachother but are civil when your pussy is involved <3<3<3<3<3 maybe you're already being fucked by one of them (probably eddie), outside bent over the motorcycle that's now shaking with his thrusts, billy stalks over and starts chatting away with eddie as if you're not struggling to hold yourself up. Eddie plays along feeling you clench up as you get ignored, Billy pulls out his cock as if its nothing refusing to stop the light banter between them and stuffs your throat with it. You're being held up by Eddie's hands as they start pummeling your achey body, you're practically blacking out at every thrust they dont care though. After they finish they dont just discard you, when you come into the dingy bar they hang out at they cant help but sit next to you in your booth and slip their fingers into you, the rest of the members think that they have problems with you little do they know billy and eddie are just whores

♡ thinking about how 001/vecnas claws make cuts and bruises along your hips <3 i do NOT care that he is a scary monster I want him to make me cry

♡ #1 believer that phil Callahan cries after sex, his cock is so twitchy and sensitive he cant help but cry after you make him feel so good

♡ Hank Miller had an audio for this but he deleted it from reddit and it's now on patreon so I cant listen to it </3 :((( (could also be read as billy) eddie steals cars for a living, stealing them for whoever pays highest. The newest sports car model? That vintage Cadillac? He'll get it for you. Hes great at his job, the best in the business that is until someone starts taking cars before the customer gets to finish the sentence. Hes pissed, more than pissed actually, some asshole is stealing his deals. He catches you in the act one night, he chases after you leading him to a warehouse filled with expensive cars, some cars that he hadnt even confirmed payment for, he hunts you down, finding you hiding in one of the cars near the exit. He forces you back into the space you occupied before you could even run, a gun pointing to your head demanding to know what the fuck you think youre doing- hes shocked to know that a girl is cockblocking his pay. Hes threatening you, telling you to back off before you get hurt, hes got your arm in a twist forcing you to spill how you're beating him in this game. He gets angrier as you explain that you bugged his phone, listening in on every conversation he has, there was practically steam pouring out of his ears as he spews insults at you. During his rant you grab the gun that hes throwing around loosely, flipping him over and aiming the gun towards him, he stutters out apologies and asking if you could possibly work this out. You dont have the mind to care not when you're sitting in his lap with his hips jerking up as he tries to escape the weapon in you hands. You're not sure how you ended up like this but you're bouncing on his cock, gun still in hand as you tell him how pathetic he is, how he let a GIRL over throw him. He doesnt take lightly to this snatching the gun from you hands pointing it under your chin threatening to keep going, his hips thrust up into you when you struggle to move, he soon decides that he couldnt care less about the gun and throws it to the side, grabbing your hips before throwing you back on his cock, your hands grabbing anything you can possibly find to stable yourself from the abuse your cunt is facing. You end up being partners in crime, living together and owning a cat called marmalade <3

♡ prison boyfriend! Eddie/billy <3<3<3<3 phone sex, and nudes sent via letters !!! After every visit you give him a kiss goodbye where he takes the opportunity to grope you from under your skirt, the prison guard doesnt know if he should separate you or let you go at it, the show is nice but it's not professional, the handcuffs around his wrists dont allow him from going any further but hes pleased with the juices you left behind, sucking them off his fingers as hes escorted back to his cell

♡ prison chief! Hopper rewarding prisoner! Reader after shes been on her best behaviour <3

♡ ABO 👁👁 not a furry but I love the thought of going into heat and having a big strong alpha fuck me dumb !!!

♡ rockstar! Dilf! Eddie fucks the babysitter!!! He cant get enough of your pussy especially not when his bitch of a wife is not putting out for him but instead other men, he loves how wet and warm you are for him, how you take whatever he gives you, how you dont accept the extra money he gives you, how you treat his toddler daughter and baby son so well and how you would be the perfect mommy for them. Hes already caught his daughter calling you mommy before, you're here more than his wife so it's only natural

♡ king! Steve wants a hier none of the princess will do instead he wants the little maid who works in the kitchens

♡ beauty and the beast au with hopper !!! Hes a big strong beast and he cant help but pin you down as you're running away from him, forcing his thick cock into your tight little pussy.

♡ the original perv Jonathan would 100% fuck his stepsister while she sleeps, hed try to be so so sooo gentle as to not wake you, letting you stay ignorant to the assault hes about to put you through, but once hes inside you he cant help but get overwhelmed by how good you feel. He covers your mouth when you wake up, encasing your body with his to stop you struggling, his thrusts dont stop as you squeal and kick. Hes like a dog, panting in your ear as his hips refuse to stop, muttering apologies as he cums inside you

♡ argyle holds your hand when you lazily grind on him, hes giggling and making jokes as his swollen head bumps against your clit making you jump.

♡ robin thinks you're so pretty, youre a church girl dressed in frilly socks, mary Jane's, flowy dresses and ribbons. She feels disgusting for how she feels about you she knows that you would think shes disgusting, that the thought of kissing another girl was disgusting. She struggles to be around you, hoping this childish crush would leave her body but it seems to grow stronger as you get persistent about becoming her friend, you invited her over for a sleepover (at first she thought this was going to be something else when you mentioned your parents not being home but soon shook the thought out of her head) you didnt let her sleep on the floor somehow convincing her to lay on the bed. You peer down at her as she lies on her back awkwardly complimenting the room you sleep in, she barely has time to react when you lean down and place your lips on hers shes so shocked that she doesnt even kiss back, when you pull away you look terrified and start spewing out apologise before running to the bathroom and locking the door. Robin tries to convince you to come out but you're crying and feel disgusted, you thought she liked girls and you've ruined a perfectly good friendship, she tells you that she was going to kiss back but she just didnt expect to be kissed by her crush, you make your way out of the bathroom shyly hiding behind the door as she eases you out like a scared animal. Robin makes sure you're better by making love to you, shes soft, tender and sweet as she assures you that you're not disgusting <3<3

♡  JIM HOPPER SPIT IN MY MOUTH

♡ priest! Eddie who makes you confess all the bad things you've done while he stokes his cock, you touched yourself to the thought of boys? Girls too? He has no other choice but to make you repent for your sins by sucking his cock

♡ period sex with vampire! eddie he loves watching his cum dribble out of you mixing with your blood. His ketchup and mayonnaise packet all in one <3

♡ 001 getting angry after his punishment and taking it out on his favourite nurse, forcing you against the nereast surface and Making you take his cock

♡ I used to have such a big crush on the bowers gang from IT I have no idea what was wrong with me anyway that's not important, the thought of eddie, billy, Steve, Johnathan bullying their favourite girl into being their girlfriend <3<3<3 they're so protective and possessive of you and guard you like dogs. Constantly around you shielding you from anyone's eyes

[seoafin]

happy kinktober (2.4k)

stsg x fem!reader

MDNI; threesome, mfm, pronebone, overstimulation, toys, mating press, marathon sex, c-curseplay............stsg get off to being married (they refer to themselves as your husbands), breeding kink, restraining, stsg absolute menaces warning

18+ only

You cum again for the fourth time in the last hour with a long, muffled cry. Satoru greedily takes in the sight of your legs trembling as you drip onto the sheets, the folds of your cunt pulsing the long vibrating silicone embedded deep into you. He can see the walls of your pussy tighten in an attempt to push out the intrusion, to relieve the overstimulation, but it fails.

Suguru doesn't even look at you, seemingly engrossed in the book in his lap, but Satoru can tell Suguru's patience is waning. His eyes trace the line of words down the page at a speed slow enough to tell Satoru that his interests lie outside of the book.

Mainly, in your spread body, forced open by a curse of Suguru's as the toy he placed in you an hour prior overwhelms you to the brink.

Satoru watches the black tendrils gyrate around the length of your thighs, completely exposing you to them. Suguru had placed you in a particularly humiliating position, ass raised to the air, face planted in the sheets, arms and hands bound by a black rope like entity Suguru had chanced upon during a mission a couple of years ago. Satoru can almost feel the tightness around his own wrists, the memory of it binding his own legs, and he grows even harder, cock straining against his pants.

It's perverted, it's perverse, watching the curse curl around your naked, glistening body, caressing you like a lover while you cry out for them. It's all Suguru in the end. The curses are a part of him, in a way that Satoru doesn’t blink at.

It’s different when someone else touches you, with an ease that signifies a lack of understanding for their position. You are not someone who can be casually touched anymore. Not by any man that isn’t them. 

You breathe out a sob. You've given up trying to upright yourself with your latest orgasm, and the tentacles dig into your flesh as you let yourself fall limp, your exhaustion evident. You've made a mess of the sheets, and all Satoru can think about is having you make an even bigger one.

Suguru closes his book.

Satoru grins. Without another word he shrugs off his shirt, and unbelts his pants.

When Suguru sits on the bed next to you, he easily pulls out the toy from you, glinting and wet with your juices, and you exhale shakily, relieved. The curse shrinks away at its master’s presence until it's only wrapped around your wrists, trapped behind your back. Suguru turns you around, and the two of them gaze at your weary body, your tear stained face, for a little longer.

“Have Satoru and I been neglecting you?” Suguru asks lightly, knuckles brushing the wetness from your cheek. His voice takes on a consolingly sweet murmur, “We’ve been busy lately, haven’t we.”

A repeat cycle of missions and meetings and days, seeing Suguru’s face in passing, and yours not at all. You’ve been holing yourself in your apartment for the last couple of days coaxing that hellcat of yours out of its place underneath the couch. As if sensing the approaching move, it had refused to come out, distressing you greatly. But Satoru is a new man, with patience and generosity to spare. He’ll endure that horrible ugly cat of yours (which looks nothing like him) that you refuse to be without, the monotony of missions and meetings, the constant squawking of the higher ups, if only to come home to you and Suguru at the end of the day.

And the rings of your fingers.

He’s a married man now, after all.

Everything changes when a man gets married, he thinks, looking at you. For better or worse, you’ve given yourself to them, unaware that they’ve also given themselves to you.

You blink, staring up at them with confusion marring your face. “N-no…?”

Suguru smiles. You balk, as if finally understanding where this conversation is heading. Satoru has to give you some points though, it’s taken quicker than it once would’ve for you to understand.

“That’s a shame,” Suguru breathes, “Satoru and I missed you,” he trails a finger down the valley of your breasts, and you shudder, squeezing your eyes tight as your nipples perk in response. Satoru can imagine your wrists straining against the confines of your binds.

“Aren’t you lucky,” Satoru crows, with a wide grin, enjoying the wide eyed panic settling on your face. “Having not one, but two husbands that miss you so diligently.”

“I missed you two too!” You blurt out, embarrassment alight on your face, more for the predicament you seem to be in than the words itself. Satoru could listen to you say you missed him over and over, if only you’d indulge him. It seems to him these are the only moments you’re most truthful to yourself. You never understand, not fully. You’ve always rationalized their love in ways it doesn’t make sense, especially when it’s never been rational in the first place. 

Satoru’s never been a picky man when it comes to you. He’ll take your increasingly distressed declarations of love over nothing. He knows they’re genuine at heart.

Maybe it’s all a last ditch attempt to placate them, to ask for forgiveness, but there’s only one way to placate the both of them, and it won’t be with words.

He moves closer to you, slotting himself between your legs as his hands spread you open once more. You make a small noise when you feel the hardness of him pressed to your slick sex.

“You’ll make Satoru jealous,” Suguru says, eyes glinting, as Satoru lines his cock up at your glistening entrance, “if you don’t give him as many orgasms as you gave that toy.”

“Double the amount,” he agrees with a heated look. Until you’re not thinking of anything but them. The way his cock splits you open and touches you in places only he can reach. He’ll make you feel so good you never entertain the attention of another man ever again. And then maybe he’ll grant you some reprieve. He can’t promise the same of Suguru though.

After Suguru, you might be a little too messed up to function properly for the next couple of days, but Satoru can think of nothing better than the two of them having you to themselves until reason inevitably grabs hold of you.

You try to squirm away, but to Satoru’s delight, black tendrils snake back around your thighs and hold you open. Suguru smiles innocently.

“I’m…” you hiccup, squeezing your eyes shut, “sorry…”

“I know,” Suguru says, settling into the bed, and freeing his cock from his pants. Satoru watches his hand firmly grip the base of his leaking cock, and wonders if Suguru’ll let him suck him off after he finishes his turn with you.

Suguru pushes the hair from your face, and kisses your sweaty forehead.

Your previous orgasms make it easier to slip into you, and Satoru sighs when the familiar wet heat of your pretty pussy sucks him in. Nothing in the world compares to the feeling of when he and Suguru fuck you together, in seperate holes, or one, but this comes pretty close.

“Ngh…” you moan, no doubt already sore and overextended as he pushes into you, past the lingering tightness. If Satoru didn’t know better, you’d be a virgin with how tightly your walls cling to him, but he knows he and Suguru have thoroughly divested you of that title long ago.

Satoru hums, stilling himself inside of you, letting you really feel him, despite the urge to wildly thrust. You lay almost limp before him, blinking away the wetness in your eyes. He smiles. “I guess I’ll just have to show you how much your husband missed you, yeah?”

Without another word of warning, he pulls out, and thrusts into you fully. You choke on your breath as he begins to fuck you in earnest, letting his cock drag against your folds before touching that part of you inside that he knows makes you lightheaded. His hands are wrapped around your waist, the black tendrils doing the work of keeping your hands bound, and your legs spread, forcing you down to him at the same timing of his thrusts.

You’re already on the cusp of another orgasm, sobbing, lips trembling in a way Satoru is tempted to bite. A few more thrusts and you’re shaking, squeezing around him as everything gets even wetter. It takes everything not to bury himself to the hilt, brush against your cervix, and come inside of you. 

His gaze drops to your cunt, to where the two of you are connected, and his blood runs hotter. Suguru is watching, pumping his wet length, chest starting to heave as he approaches what Satoru knows won’t be his final orgasm of the night. He’ll be inside you before long, painting your insides white, their seeds mixing into a mess inside you. 

The three of you, together, always together. It gives him a high akin to violence, to know you’re indisputably theirs in a way nobody can say anything about anymore, even you. You gave that right away when you said yes.

The room is obscenely loud as he fucks into you, wet squelches and the slap of skin against skin. Your legs have gone limp, held up only by Suguru’s curse, and your breathing goes funny in a way that makes him even harder.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he grunts, sinking himself into the hilt once more, “neglecting your husbands.” He hasn’t even played with your clit yet, hasn’t really made you sorry like he knows he could, but you’re already approaching your next orgasm, and even he isn’t strong enough to let you come by yourself. “Don’t worry,” Satoru says breathily, “We’ll take our time with you tonight. Make up for lost time. You’ll indulge your husbands, huh?”

You don’t get a chance to answer, or even register his question.

His hips slam into yours with reckless abandon, fingers marking indents into your hips. Satoru watches your face twist, watches as you try to fight off your impending orgasm, watches the shameless pleasure on Suguru’s face when you start to become incoherent underneath him. He feels the vice tight squeeze of your cunt, and presses your raised thighs until they’re nearly level with your chest. With one final thrust, he comes inside of you, feels your pussy pulse with his release. Your feet on either side of his head twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You’re a pretty sight, nearly bent in half, half sobs escaping your mouth, his hands on both sides of your head, as he keeps your hips flush together. Every small movement sends the legs resting on his shoulder into overdrive. He meets Suguru’s gaze, trails his eyes down the flexing muscles of Suguru’s abdomen, to the painfully erect need between his open thighs.

Satoru snorts. Sometimes he can’t decide on whether or not Suguru is a masochist or a sadist. If he’s indulgent to the point of excess, then Suguru is restrained to the point of delayed gratification. 

You shiver when Satoru slips out of you, your leaking cunt a sticky mess. You look blankly serene, gazing up at the ceiling. Not a single thought in that head of yours, just the way he likes it. He and Suguru have always been of the opinion that you think too much. If he can give you quiet, then he’ll consider it one of his husbandly duties.

He almost feels bad for you when Suguru claims his seat, after giving him a long kiss. Satoru can’t help but reach and give Suguru’s cock a hard squeeze, relishing the harsh grunt that leaves his throat, and the warning nip of Suguru’s teeth against his neck.

You blink, as if regaining some semblance of cognizance, when Suguru’s hardness taps against your stomach, smearing it wet with precum.

You blink when Suguru brushes your face with his knuckles, takes your hand, adorned with the ring they had given you, entwines your fingers, and smiles.

-

Satoru watches as Suguru fucks you in a new position. It looks like punishment, and it must feel like punishment too. The rough, measured thrust of his hips slaps against your nearly limp form, a foamy white ring around his cock as he unrelenting spears into you. The weight of him against your back pushes your body deeper into the bed. Rivulets of come slide down the curve of your ass, dripping onto the sheets. 

You’ve long given up on trying to fight. Suguru had unbound your hands in what seemed as if it might be temporary forgiveness. But then you had tried to run away. Suguru can be capricious too, because after sighing earlier that he could be tempted into forgiveness with a few more direct ‘I love you’s’, he had decided then and there that you needed to be thoroughly chastened. Your wrists hadn’t left your back since. 

Suguru’s fingers are wrapped around your throat, with just enough effort to keep your head upright as he murmurs into your ear. 

When Satoru sticks two fingers in your mouth, and presses against your tongue, your jaw easily falls slack, drool pooling down his wrist. Your eyes are glazed over, any indication of consciousness in the slight shift of your breathing.

This might be the most fucked out Satoru has ever seen you. And he’s seen you in multiple, varying states of dissociation following sex. He feels his dick twitch in interest, a rush of blood following. A challenge it’d be, to bring you back to a world of awareness. To have you calling his name after you had been nearly unresponsive just minutes prior.

Suguru comes with an exhale, and you with a whimper as tears rush to the surface of your eyes, animating you back to life once more. Suguru spends the next few minutes rutting his hips into you, fucking their cum back into you with a vigor that tells Satoru that he’s thinking about children. 

The two of them have come inside of you so many times that Satoru thinks there isn’t a possibility of you not being pregnant. They’ve made a game of it, whose seed will be the first to take. You leak when Suguru leaves you. The curse enveloping your wrists dissolves into air. Suguru takes your wrists with his hands, and gently rubs his finger over them.

The two of them look with unabashed interest when Satoru pushes down on the slight distension of your lower stomach, and you leak even more, a mixture of your slick and their come onto the sheets. You blearily watch, unable to do much more.

Satoru’s eye catches on the glint of the pretty rock on your finger as he pets your hair. You’re theirs now. Formally and forever. 

Well, he thinks. They have all the time in the world.

[actual-changeling]

Crowley moves into the bookshop purely because he returns the next day to make sure Muriel isn't setting it on fire or selling books, and then - never leaves.

Mind you, a part of him was gritting its teeth and trying to force him back into the Bentley, back to his cold, lonely Mayfair flat, back to a bed that could swallow him whole, back to nothing.

The bookshop, on the other hand, is everything. It is memories, wine-drunk, clumsy touches they both pretend didn't mean anything, hours saturated with soft chatter and candle smoke, Aziraphale's cologne, still the same, and his books. Crowley knows the place and name of every single one; he knows when he bought it, why he bought it, how many times he has read it, and if he would ever sell it (the answer is a resounding 'no').

It is Aziraphale as much as his vest, coat, and tartan patterns are him. as much as the breath in his lungs and the angel on the tip of his tongue are him. It is a fragile fantasy of what could have been and what they almost had.

So yes, Crowley moves into the bookshop, Muriel sells no books, and sometimes, when the wine bottles go empty too quickly and too early in the evening, he closes his eyes and pretends.

"...and that was when he..."

Crowley isn't really listening anymore, contentedly sprawled across the couch and occasionally taking another sip from his half-empty glass. Watching him talk has the same appeal as watching him eat: the damp slide of his lips, his tongue darting out, the reverence with which he shapes his vowels and consonants.

He shuffles closer to the backrest when his hips threaten to slide straight off the cushions, and Aziraphale pauses, eyes locked on his exposed collarbone as his shirt refuses to move with him.

It is warm, too warm, the candles are almost close to burning down into puddles of wax; and they have been on the wrong side of midnight for a while now. For a few seconds, Crowley allows himself to indulge.

Never breaking eye contact, he could gracefully push himself upright (shut up, let him have this; we all know he'd look about as graceful as a newborn foal) and slink over to Aziraphale, who is sitting frozen in his armchair.

He could pluck his wine glass from his grasp and put it right next to his own, swallowing when he licks a lingering drop of red from his bottom lip. He could lower himself onto his lap, thighs spread apart and bracketing his, and he could press his fingers to his flushed cheeks and gently pull him in.

Crowley could kiss him and taste their shared wine, the lamb roast he had for dinner, and the vanilla cupcake, which watching him eat almost drove Crowley insane. Beneath it all, a spark of fresh air and ozone; lightning and power prickling right beneath his skin.

Crowley could kiss him, and Aziraphale would kiss him back, and the world would finally be alright.

"Are you alright, dear boy?"

Crowley hasn't moved, Aziraphale has picked up where he left off, and they're five feet apart, but it might as well be an ocean.

"'think I've had enough to drink," he mutters, and when the disappointment in his angel's eyes hits, he gets up (clumsy, not graceful, panicked, and attempting to flee) and is gone before Aziraphale has a chance to stop him.

Crowley's head hurts something awful, and he blinks himself out of his stupor, ignoring the cooling track of tears on his cheeks. Aziraphale is gone, he reminds himself, and he reaches for another bottle without taking his eyes off the empty armchair staring him down.

Crowley kissed him, and he kissed back for one marvellous second, and then the world was not alright.

And then he left.

The lights are off, as they always are nowadays, and so he drinks as much as he can in one go and falls back with creeping dizziness in his periphery.

Crowley's eyes flutter close on their own volition, and so he rewinds and rewinds until he finds the one fantasy where everything turns out alright.

It's the one that hurts the most.

It's the only one he watches over and over again.

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (II)

Chapter 2: The Dangers of a Night Out

Hi everyone! Here is chapter two! Let’s see how this whole mess began, shall we?

I hope you like it! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count: 3535

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Three months earlier

God, you were beautiful.

As he stared at you, Andrew felt like the rest of the world had disappeared. He was vaguely aware of Alex’s presence by his side in the booth, vaguely aware of the loud music playing in the pub, vaguely aware of people laughing while you walked in. You always looked stunning in his eyes, you always drew his gaze back to you, even in crowded rooms. But tonight… he was not certain why he was getting so awestruck by you but he did, and all the air was knocked out of his lungs, and the world vanished around you. You had chosen your outfit carefully tonight, it was obvious, like everybody else. Sam had warned all of you that he was not going to celebrate his engagement in sweatpants, and you all played along, dressing fancy, for a change.

And by all the goodness in this world, Andrew was about to faint as you sat by his side, grinning at him with this generous, infectious smile of yours. Your eyes were shining, your eyelashes were so long he could have slid over their curve. And your perfume drowned him into something more dangerous and marvellous than water, and he couldn’t fucking breathe, and…

“Hi! I’m glad you came, Andy.”

He was pretty sure that he had a stupid grin on his face, like the lovesick fool he was, but he didn’t really care. He was too stunned to do so.

Meanwhile, he suddenly realised that you were looking at the rest of your friends gathered around the table, and you were rolling your eyes at something they had said. Andrew blinked a few times, forced his mind back into action and finally listened to the words spoken among the group.

“Wow, Y/N you’re not joking around with the dress code!”

“You said dress formal, I dressed formal.”

“You are aware that I am not getting married tonight, right?” Sam jumped in with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes again.

“I am aware. But if you prefer, I can get changed and wear sweatpants again!”

“No! We’re just taking the piss… you look amazing.”

“Thanks!”

You turned to him then, and Andrew blinked like an idiot, lips slightly parted, trying to force his brain into working again…

“How are you doing, Andy?”

“Grand! Good…” he nodded, voice dropping by an octave, before he cleared his throat. “What about you? Did you have a good week?”

You nodded, started talking about work, about that colleague of yours that kept on pissing you off, and the other you spent too much time laughing with.

Your friends were soon divided into smaller groups, cut in small conversations that people jumped in and out of. A beer was drunk, and then another, and then a couple of shots. Andrew could feel his cheeks reddening, the flush creeping up his skin as the liquor kicked in and made him laugh harder, smile brighter, loosened up the knot in his stomach. You made him nervous. After all this time, after years spent as friends, you still made him nervous. He couldn’t help it.

There was a time, at the very beginning, when he didn’t see you like this; with butterflies in his stomach and a tightening throat and an excited jump of his heart every time his eyes met yours. There was a time when you were simply friends. He was not single, and you were in a relationship. There was no room in either of your hearts for anything more than platonic affections. And then his relationship crumbled because of touring, and when he came back to Ireland, everything changed. On his end, at least…

You, you were still living a happy life with your boyfriend, until he went on to break your heart. You lost yourself in your work, it was easier then to forget the pain rather than conquer it. A couple of months ago, you were promoted, and Andrew knew that you wanted to focus on your career for now. It was okay, it wasn’t like he would have the courage to tell you how he felt anyway…

Oh, he had thought about it. About telling you everything, about finally speaking up and revealing everything but then again… why take the risk? You had never given him any sign that you could feel that way towards him. And he knew you were not looking for a relationship at the moment. So why take the risk to lose you when all odds seemed against him?

Another round of Guiness was passed around, and you we still here, talking to him. A few friends had jumped in the conversation now and then, but you hadn’t wandered away and neither had he. And Andrew knew he was a fool for forming such thoughts, but he couldn’t help being glad that you were willing to spend your entire evening talking with him, out of all people…

He was halfway through telling you about his upcoming honey harvest when everyone around the group grew quiet. Sam and Daphne had risen, holding up their drinks, and you and Andrew turned to them as well.

“Well, we won’t be long with our speech, but we… Daphne and I just want to thank all of you for coming tonight to celebrate our engagement. Thank you for your support and your love over so many years of absolute craic. We’re counting on you all to help us for our big day, and to spare us both from your most embarrassing stories about us before our in-laws…”

The table cheered and laughed and clapped to congratulate the couple as they exchanged a kiss.

“And now, everybody up! We’re dancing!” Daphne ordered, and all stood, except for Andrew, who lingered with his beer, trying to escape…

… and failing.

“That includes you, mister!” Daphne dragged him away from the table, and he playfully tried to resist.

“Daphne…”

“Come on, Andy!”

Sam came to his rescue, wrapping an arm around his fiancée’s shoulders.

“Leave the poor lad alone!” he laughed, owning a grateful nod from Andrew. “Besides, don’t scare him too much, I have a favour to ask!”

“A favour? You? God, that sounds like trouble,” Andrew chuckled.

Meanwhile, Andrew had spotted you in the crowd. There wasn’t exactly a place to dance per say in the bar, just an empty space before a “stage”, if one could call a lonely stool and a jukebox that way. Still, it was enough for the group to have fun, and soon other people hanging out in the pub joined the merry party. Andrew looked away when a stranger started to dance with you.

When he turned to Sam again, his friend had grown serious, almost nervous. Andrew rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Sam, you’re okay? I was just joking. You know you can ask me anything.”

“It’s just… yeah, I don’t know why I’m nervous. I guess… it’s just important to me.”

Sam blinked tears away before speaking again, his voice deeper than usual.

“We’ve known each other since forever you and I, Andy. You… we go way back.”

“Too far back to mention that part, it will make us feel old,” Andrew joked, successfully making his friend laugh.

“Yeah, let’s not dive into that… what I mean is… I know that you’re busy, and you’re always travelling for your career but… It’s important for me that you’re here…”

“I’ll be at your wedding Sam. You don’t have to worry about that. You really think I would miss my oldest friend’s wedding? Are you insane?”

Sam nodded, but he still seemed nervous.

“Actually… I wanted to ask you to be my best man. Would you do that for me?”

It was Andrew’s turn to feel tears gather at the corner of his eyes. He stared at this friend who had been in his life for so long; felt the long, painful pull of love grow stronger by the second. He was one of those people Andrew couldn’t imagine anywhere but in his life. They had known each other since what felt like forever. Had been there for each other through first loves, breakups, disappointments, successes… He was a constant in his life. And Andrew was glad that Sam seemed to feel the same about their long friendship.

“It would be an honour, Sam. Of course, I would love to.”

“That means helping with the wedding…”

“You can count on me. You can always count on me, you know that.”

Before he could get another word out, Sam was giving him a bone-crushing hug.

“Thanks, Andy.”

“Thank you, Sam. Thanks for asking me.”

Daphne joined the embrace with an emotional giggle, and all three friends hugged for a moment, the moment blissful and light and full of love.

“Oh, by the way… have you heard about Y/N?” Daphne asked as they separated.

Andrew tilted his head slightly.

“What about Y/N?”

“She doesn’t have any plus-one for the wedding… and you don’t have a plus-one for the wedding either…”

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Please, Daphne…”

“Come on! You two are meant to be together! Make a fucking move!”

“She doesn’t see me like that…”

“Andy, mate… she does. Trust me she fucking does. She’s just afraid to admit it,” Sam replied.

“Oh, and when did you become an expert in relationships?”

“I’m the one who’s managed to land the most beautiful woman in Ireland and make her marry me! So, I’d say I’m fairly better at this than you and your sorry single arse!”

“Touché…”

Andrew heaved a sigh.

“Thanks for worrying about me, guys… but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“We’ve tried… again,” Daphne shrugged, before dragging her fiancé away for a dance.

They looked adorable and so disgustingly happy like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying to the music, grins plastered on their faces and stealing kisses now and then…

Andrew was too busy looking at his friends to notice you walking towards him.

“Andy! Come on! Dance with me!”

He shook his head.

“No, no… really, you know I can’t dance. Too much limb…”

“Come on! Please! Just one dance with me!”

He heaved a sigh, his will already crumbling. God, he really couldn’t say no to anything when it came to you…

“Besides, there’s this guy trying to dance with me, and I need a bodyguard,” you went on, and Andrew wasn’t sure if you were lying or not, but it worked anyway, and he yielded.

He put down his beer on the table behind him, and let you pull him in the midst of the friendly group. He moved awkwardly to the beat, and yet he was grinning, seeing you full of joy enough of a wonder to make him feel warm. You were giggling at some of his moves, but he would have been lying had he pretended that he didn’t do it on purpose, just to make you laugh, just to see that expression of bliss on your features. You sang the chorus together, at the top of your lungs. And perhaps the liquor wasn’t helping, but Andrew felt light-headed as he watched you being silly and happy. The thought that he had something to do with the grin that adorned your lips made his heart expand against his ribcage, warm and full of happiness.

But then the rhythm faded, and another song was chosen on the jukebox, and Andrew’s heart started pounding as you walked closer.

Who had chosen a slow song…?

You stood before him, as if waiting for him to make a move, to hold you against him, to guide you in a dance. Andrew was too shy for it, too nervous, too afraid to overstep. He offered you his open palm instead, a silent way to ask for permission. You grinned, took his hand without an ounce of hesitation.

Were Sam and Daphne right, after all? Did you see him like that, too?

You leaned into him as he rested a hand across the small of your back, giving him a smile that was shyer than your usual ones. You seemed almost nervous.

Andrew was certain that he had a lovesick expression plastered on his face… and yet couldn’t find a way to care.

Your body was so warm against his. He wasn’t holding you too close, but sometimes your bodies touched or brushed, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe. He bent down a little to rest the side of his chin against your hair, and closed his eyes. He heard you letting out a shaky breath at that gesture, but you didn’t push him away. On the contrary, he could have sworn that you leaned into his touch…

Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald were singing of the beauty of New York in autumnal hues, and while the notes lasted, Andrew couldn’t think of anything but their voices and your hand in his, the warmth of your body under his palm, the tickle of your hair against his chin. He could barely register moving at all. Your perfume filled his senses, made his head spin. He was certain to be too old to be so moved by another person, by such innocent touches, by such a simple moment. And yet he was, worse than a teenager dancing with his first crush. If he managed to avoid a heart-attack tonight, he might just start believing in miracles…

This was dangerous, Andrew knew he was playing with fire. Or rather, playing with cardiac-arrest, but that was the same thing. How could another human have so much effect on him? It shouldn’t be allowed.

The music kept on playing, and you kept on following his lead as he gently swayed, movements slow and peaceful, even tender, he couldn’t help it…

He recognized the last notes of the song, took a deep inhale of your perfume as he knew he was about to have to pull away. He tried to carve the scent into his lungs, tried to remember it forever… that and the feeling of your hand in his, and the way you leaned a little closer as the last notes faded, like you didn’t want this to end either.

And yet, despite his reluctance, Andrew pulled away as the notes disappeared, vanishing into the heavy air of the room. Slowly, he took a step back, hand leaving yours, leaving the small of your back and the softness of your clothes. He looked at you for a moment, gaze catching yours and remaining hanging in the stillness of a suspended moment. But then the buzzing of the bar was back, and another upbeat song was played, and you moved away…

“Ermmm… I think I’ll take a break from the crowd for a minute.”

Before you could answer or protest, Andrew was striding towards the door, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart and the blushing of his cheeks. The air was cold as it hit his skin, he finally noticed he hadn’t taken his jacket. There was barely anyone around, just a few strangers passing by, a tipsy couple a couple of houses down the lane. Andrew took a few deep breaths, nervously brushing his hair back with a trembling hand.

Damn… what the fuck was that…?

“Andy?”

He jumped at the sound of your voice, and it took him a moment to recover from the sight of you bathed in golden streetlights…

“Yeah?”

“You’re okay?”

“Sure, why? Just… needed a bit of fresh air, that’s all.”

You slowly nodded. And yet, you seemed worried, he asked you why with an inquisitive tilt of his head.

“You… I was worried us dancing together made you feel uncomfortable…”

He gave you a surprised look.

“No, I… I liked it. Dancing with you.”

A little bit of mischief came back to colour your gaze.

“Despite your long limbs?”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a laugh.

“Yeah, despite the unbearably long limbs and how clumsy they make me, yeah…”

“Good… cause then you… kind of awkwardly fled the scene. Suspicious, to say the least.”

“Just… many people at once,” he lied, and you weren’t fooled.

“Says the guy who sings in front of thousands of people at once.”

“It isn’t the same, and you know it.”

You nodded, merely half-convinced.

“Right… so… it’s okay if I stay with you for a minute?”

“Of course.”

“Good, thanks.”

“But… you would have more fun with all the others, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know… I feel like staying with you for a bit.”

His head was spinning again, Andrew reckoned that the alcohol was beginning to seriously kick in. That, and the fact that you should not be allowed to say things like this to him… it was too painful to be rejected after that. After having you acting like he was special to you…

He let out a trembling breath, one that made you frown a little. You tried to give him a smile anyway.

“So… where were we before we got interrupted by Sam and Daphne playing perfect couple?”

“I don’t know… I don’t remember.”

“You were telling me about your bees.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised that you would still be interested in hearing him gush about his bees and the honey they made.

He didn’t say a thing though, his brain was slowing down more and more because of the liquor he had been drinking all night.

“Andy? You’re okay? You look… a little… unstable.”

“Thanks for assessing my sanity…”

“No, I meant… On your feet. You look like you might fall.”

“I’m okay.”

“You did need some fresh air.”

You took a couple of steps closer, until you were close enough to reach up and rest a hand on his upper arm.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Your voice was gentle. And soothing, so fucking soothing… Andrew could not remember hearing anything so soothing in his life…

And you were so beautiful under the streetlights, photons rushing to get caught in your hair and eyelashes and glimmering over your skin. You hadn’t pushed him away during that dance, and sometimes you acted like you longed for his company more than others’… what if Sam and Daphne were right? What if you liked him?

“Andy?”

You were staring up at him with these beautiful eyes of yours, the ones he saw in his sleep, the ones he longed for every single second when he couldn’t see them. Damn… how could someone feel like that for a person they weren’t even in a relationship with. It was crazy, Andrew realised. It was crazy how much he could love you, even if only from afar.

And what if Sam and Daphne were right?

“Are you seeing anyone these days?”

You were clearly taken aback by the question, blinked up at him a couple of times.

“Huh… no? Why?”

“Would you have dinner with me?”

“What?”

“Fuck all this shit…”

“What…?”

But before you could say another word, Andrew was reaching up to hold your face, a touch gentle, just enough to guide you into a kiss but one you could free yourself from easily if you wanted to. Then his lips were on yours, his long eyelashes brushing yours as they closed. And the world disappeared as he finally could touch you the way he had dreamt about for so long. Your lips were as soft as he had dreamt them, your taste as intoxicating as he had imagined… He expected you to push him away, but you didn’t. Instead, you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, and you let him deepen the kiss when his tongue brushed your mouth. You let out a small groan when Andrew took a step forward and pressed your body against the brick wall of the pub. But the kiss slowed down, growing more tender, more loving even. Something too intimate to be shared in a first kiss, and yet, Andrew couldn’t help it. His entire body was burning, he felt feverish, like he was losing his mind, like the whole world had disappeared, or rather… had shrunk down to rest within your arms. And he loved it. He loved it so fucking much… He loved you so fucking much…

He pulled away at long last, out of breath, heart ready to explode, dragging out your lower lip between his as he moved away because he was unwilling to stop. But when he blinked his eyes open, his heart sank.

You were staring up at him with something horrified in your eyes. He took a step back immediately, let go of you, shivering at the loss of contact.

You stared at each other for a moment, bathing in the golden light of an evening in Dublin. Still, both of you unable to move or say anything.

He finally opened his mouth only to be interrupted by Daphne opening the door of the pub and calling both of you back inside for another round of whiskey. You didn’t say a word as you followed her in, and Andrew remained silent as well, holding the door for you before being hit by the warmth of the pub.

Goddamn it… what had he done?

[sixosix]

could you please write a soft drabble where toge helps the reader sleep? (i mean sfw ofc <3) My babygirl needs more appreciation 😔 its okay if you cant i love your works thank you <3

( a/n ) !!! toge req!!! dropped everything to write this, wc 700

you’re not quite sure if you can cross this line.

you and toge have been closer these past few weeks, but does it warrant a free pass to his bedroom? probably not. definitely not. you wouldn’t march into nobara’s room without warning beforehand, and you’ve been friends with her for longer.

but maybe it’s different. maybe it’s because it’s toge and it’s why you aren’t as nervous as you’re supposed to be.

( or maybe it’s the lack of sleep catching up to you, blurring words together to the point where you can’t tell right from wrong. )

a moment of hesitation, then, knock knock.

“…toge?” you call out, pressing your forehead against his door. there are beats of silence before you hear the shuffling of feet and stumbling here and there.

and, finally, the door opens, with toge unused to the soft light, blinking slowly, eyes half-lidded.

“sorry,” you mumble, finding yourself entranced at the way strands of hair stick out from his head. “you were sleeping, i don’t know why i—”

a hand catches your wrist before you even think about turning away. “bonito flakes,” toge says, his voice sounding rougher than it usually is.

your neck prickles with heat. “it’s… nothing serious. i just… you know…”

he pulls you closer—in hopes of making you look at him, probably, but embarrassment creeps in, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him any longer.

toge whispers, as if sharing a secret, “tuna mayo.”

it should be a little funny that he’s trying to comfort you with rice ball ingredients, but all you can focus on is how your heart is pounding, his skin is warm against yours, and his voice—rarely there, rarely spoken—has never sounded sweeter.

you take a deep breath, staring at your intertwined hands. “i can’t sleep. i don’t know why, but i thought of going here.”

you feel toge shift. you look up, and he’s looking away. maybe it’s a trick of the soft moonlight, but his ears are a bit red.

toge gestures inside his room with his head, asking, “tuna?”

“you wouldn’t mind?”

“fish flakes.” he sounds almost offended that you even asked.

in the darkness, you two stumble into his room. toge kicks his door closed, still refusing to let go of your wrist, and you let him, realizing that you didn’t have to stand outside his room for five minutes overthinking.

he leads you to his bed. he sits there first, then shuffles to the other edge of it to pull you onto it.

you follow suit, and now you two are awkwardly pressed against each other, shoulder to shoulder. you’re stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself. toge makes a soft noise, and belatedly, you realize it’s a chuckle.

you can only hope he doesn’t feel your pulse when his fingers wrap around it.

two beats of hesitant silence later, you are lying in a much more comfortable position, your backs pressed against each other. you exhale, content; toge hums in agreement, shifting so his hand finds its way to lace itself around yours.

he seems to really like holding your hands.

perhaps knowing that someone is right there makes you feel more at ease than you were earlier in your own room. ( or, perhaps—and you didn’t want to think about this for too long—it’s because it’s toge. )

you don’t know how, but toge must’ve realized that you still aren’t sleeping and turns to the other side. he is a heavy breath away from mouthing your neck. don’t make it weird, you chant in your head, before you do the same; you’ll only make it weird if you think it is weird. don’t make it weird.

but looking at how the barely-there moonlight from his window reflects shadows and lights on his face, your breath hitches. you’re definitely making it weird.

“salmon,” toge whispers, shuffling closer.

you don’t know what he means by that this time, so you wordlessly pull closer in response.

toge smiles, pleased. you blink in confusion—disappointment—when he tugs his hand away from yours, only to find home in the back of your head.

you stare at him, wide awake, and toge is gazing back, eyes half-open. he’s looking at you like you’re something precious: fond and sweet. you’ve never felt more adored than when he has eyes on you.

his fingers start moving, carding through your hair. it feels nicer than you expected, and inumaki huffs a soft noise—a laugh again, you realize—when you nuzzle closer to him.

you have your eyes closed. toge inches closer. there’s warmth on your forehead; when toge pulls away, it disappears just as fast.

sleep comes easier this time. you wonder if there are other lines that toge is willing to cross with you.

i wrote this in an hour forgive me if it’s written weirdly LOL <33 rbs and comments fuel me

[cherienymphe]

When The Party’s Over XXIII (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE (alluded to), forced pregnancy, mentions of chilbirth, toxic relationship, violence, jealousy, stalking, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, public sex, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @silkholland​​

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

~

There were tears in your eyes as your mom and Sarah gasped, tearful coos coming from the older woman as you were handed the crying infant. Despite how healthy he was, he looked so tiny. Unreal. Like a very lifelike doll, and you furiously blinked, trying not to cry. Sixteen hours of labor had produced a healthy baby boy that looked more like you than Rafe, and the thought made you tearfully smile.

“Oh, honey,” your mom said, leaning over to wipe some tears you hadn’t realized escaped.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, wiping your face, and Sarah stopped you.

“You just gave birth,” she told you. “You can do whatever you want, right now, and don’t need to apologize for it.”

You couldn’t stop looking at him, watching the way his face started to even out as his cries grew quieter. It was hard to believe that you’d made this, that this had come out of you, even though you’d quite literally just experienced the process. Your son’s eyes were barely open, like he’d been sleeping or something and wanted to go back to it, and the thought made you chuckle.

Even though he was part Rafe, you already loved him even before you officially met him, but now it felt…magnified. You stared at him, and you just wanted to protect him from anything bad, including his father. Not in a way that meant raising him not to be like Rafe, but in a way that kept him away from Rafe forever.

He was yours…and it wasn’t fair that he was Rafe’s too.

Why did Rafe have to get everything he wanted?

As if your mind conjured it up, your mom asked you about letting everyone else into the room. For the first time since he came out of you, you tore your eyes away from your son to meet your mom’s eyes. Your gaze didn’t match her enthusiastic one, and you couldn’t stop the way your brows furrowed. You glanced at Sarah, and her face started to fall too, sensing your train of thought.

You didn’t want Rafe to see him, to meet him. He didn’t deserve to hold this baby that he’d forced on you, and you didn’t think you could handle seeing that triumphant smile on his face as he fully drank in his victory. Taking a deep breath, you glanced at your mom.

“Just a few more minutes,” you mumbled.

You just wanted more time to have him to yourself, to not have to share him with the man who’d ruined your life. You didn’t want to have to hand him over to Rafe and fight the urge to snatch him back. You didn’t want see that same love in Rafe’s eyes that was no doubt in yours. You wanted to stay in this hospital room, this moment, forever with no interruption. For just a few more minutes, you wanted to pretend that he was all yours.

Eventually though, time had to move on, and you held your breath when the room became a bit more crowded. Pope was saying something you weren’t quite hearing, disbelief coloring his tone, and Rose was as animated as always, gushing over her step-grandson. Your dad and Ward were fairly quiet, but the awe and love in their eyes was plain as day.

The only person you were able to linger on though was Rafe.

It was hard to place the look on his face, and despite what you’d believed, not a hunt of smugness could be found. He was slow in approaching you, almost like he was unsure, and with a start, you realized that Rafe was unsure. You recalled that conversation you’d had where you both agreed you didn’t want this baby to turn out anything like him, and you could see that very same worry in his blue eyes.

Worry that he’d taint him, that everything wrong about Rafe would somehow seep through the skin and ruin your son before he even had a chance. You had that same worry too, and for just a second, your hold on your son tightened. Rafe was by you, now, and when his gaze met yours, your lips trembled. You really didn’t want to hand him over, and Rafe could see that clear as day, and you watched as his shoulders drooped.

“Please,” he murmured.

It was probably the first time he’d ever said that with a genuine heart, and you both stared at one another, the weight of your son in your arms. You were once again at that crossroads where you wanted Rafe to suffer but in the same breath, you wanted him to be better for the sake of your son. You were torn between wanting him to stay stagnant and internally miserable and wanting him to grow and mature and become a better man.

You looked at your son again, taking a deep breath and drinking him in before finally handing him to Rafe.

You felt as empty as your arms when he took him, and you watched your son squirm a bit at the change. You watched Rafe stare down at him, taking in the way his eyes sparkled, a smile spreading over his pink lips. The look on his face was reminiscent of the early days of your relationship when things had been good, and you’d been genuinely happy with Rafe, and he’d been genuinely happy with you.

Rafe was still smiling when he looked at you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to return it. His smile faltered a little at the sight, and you didn’t miss the irritated glint in his eye at your lack of effort to play house. He looked back to your son, his smile growing again, and you leaned back, exhaling through your nose just as the doctor returned.

You could hear your mom and Rose fussing about your rest, and you’d been pushing your fatigue to the back of your mind, but as soon as it was brought up, it was like you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Pope kissed your cheek before he left, and you sent him a weak smile. Rafe remained, showing no signs of leaving, and you bit your lip when he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering.

“You did so good, beautiful,” he murmured, fingers smoothing over your sweaty temple. “So good.”

Waking up in the middle of the night to see Rafe rocking your son back to sleep would’ve been a sight that melted your heart had things been different. Even still, it was hard to pretend like it didn’t affect you…because it did. You were always so anxious about sleeping through any of his cries and anything he needed, and more often than not, Rafe beat you to it.

Like now.

However, this was the first time you’d woken up to witness it for yourself. It was something that was always conveyed to you with words, Rafe telling you he’d taken care of him during the night while you slept soundly. This time you’d been roused along with him, and by the time you fully opened your eyes, Rafe already had the newborn in his arms.

You felt your face relax at the sight, blinking. You hated to admit that Rafe was a better father than you thought he’d be. For now, at least, and again, your hatred for the blond had you at war with yourself because why wouldn’t you want him to be a good dad? Your son didn’t deserve Rafe at his worst, and you should want better for the both of them.

After all, as much as Rafe’s actions were his own, his upbringing and his relationship with his own dad had a lot to do with how he turned out. More than anything, you didn’t want that for your own son. You didn’t want him to grow up terrorizing and taking advantage of girls, wreaking havoc on people’s lives all to get what he wanted. That train of thought made you sigh, and you pushed yourself to your feet.

Rafe must’ve heard the whisper of fabric, looking over his shoulder at you as you approached them.

“You should be sleeping,” he softly told you, careful not to wake him.

“You’re always getting up in the middle of the night with him,” you softly said, sounding almost…bitter. “I never do.”

“Well, you carried him for nine months and gave birth to him. You shouldn’t have to,” he argued.

That was a good thing, but his words still made you frown.

“This isn’t going to make up for anything, you know…”

You both saw and heard Rafe sigh, throwing you a cold look that had you swallowing.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he started, putting your son back in his crib. “I’d say you were jealous.”

“I’m not.”

You were.

Rafe turned to look at you, one hand on the crib and the other on his hip as he stared you down. You pulled your lip between your teeth, blinking and looking away. You hated that Rafe woke up during the nights to steal time with him. You hated that he fed him when you were too tired to or that he got to hold him and walk around while you napped during the day.

“I hate that he’s yours too,” you quietly admitted, and Rafe nodded, like he’d been waiting for you to say that. “You don’t deserve him…and I wish he was all mine.”

Rafe didn’t respond right away at first, brushing past you to sit down on the bed. You crossed your arms over your chest, turning to face him with tearful eyes as Rafe just…stared at you. He ran his eyes over you, something in his gaze that made you squirm and feel grateful you were still within the six-week ban.

“I like seeing you get all territorial over our son,” he softly chuckled. “It’s cute.”

You pressed your nails into your palms.

“…but he is our son…and that’s just something you’re going to have to get over.”

A tear escaped before you could stop it, and you hurriedly wiped your face.

“You’re right,” Rafe agreed. “I don’t deserve him.”

He leaned back on his elbows, grinning at you.

“He’s innocent and sweet and half you just as much as he is me, but…”

He took a deep breath, tilting his head at you.

“I worked hard to get him here. To put him in you, and to keep him there…so… Maybe from an effort standpoint, I do deserve to enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

Rafe was so smug, it was a wonder you didn’t slap him, and the look on his face made your stomach turn. He suddenly pushed himself to his feet, approaching you. The only reason you allowed him to take your arm and pull you towards the bed with him was 100% because of your son who was sound asleep.

Rafe leaned in, his nose grazing your temple.

“He’s my son too,” he whispered, his other hand coming up to graze your waist. “…and you need to accept that, or you’re going to have a very long life ahead of you.”

He sank down into bed, reaching for you with a straight face. Sleeping next to Rafe at night was something you hated too, but for the sake of your son and to ensure he got the best care through the night too, it was necessary. The feel of him next to you at night was too reminiscent of how your relationship used to be, snuggling up to Rafe at night in his bedroom, just happy to steal away any moment you could. It was never anything more than him just sleeping beside you, content with that for now, but you knew it wouldn’t last.

After all, if being several months pregnant hadn’t stopped Rafe from fucking you, once the six weeks was up, nothing would.

You stared up at the ceiling as you laid beside him, thinking over what the rest of your life would be like. Rafe was right. This baby was his too, and you had to come to terms with that or else it would be a long, long life ahead of you. The thought brought tears to your eyes because Rafe didn’t deserve him. He hadn’t done a thing to deserve him, and a lifetime of sharing your son with Rafe made your stomach twist.

“Going for a walk?”

The familiar voice startled you, and your son squirmed in your arms as you turned around. Rafe leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as your eyes met his in the low lighting. It was late, but the moonlight provided some clarity, and you blinked at the sight of him. Your lips parted, words failing you because you knew how bad this looked.

You were dressed, and so was your son, and the small bag on your shoulder had some clothes for him, a few bottles, and pampers and anything else he’d immediately need. This hadn’t been planned, your body running on autopilot in the middle of the night with an overwhelming urge to take him and keep him far away from Rafe. You’d planned to call Pope as soon as you were out of the house, your brother in town for the weekend.

“I pretty much wake up minutes before he does, now…so used to it, I guess,” Rafe evenly said. “So, you have to imagine what I thought when I didn’t see him in his crib…”

You shrunk in on yourself, gaze finding the floor.

“How scared I was…and how angry I was when I turned to you, but…you…weren’t…there…”

“Rafe-.”

“What was the plan exactly?” he wondered, stepping closer. “It’s not like I wouldn’t know where you’d run to, not like I wouldn’t come and find you both and drag you back by your fucking hair.”

He sounded angrier with every word, and the tears you’d been fighting back finally spilled over.

“He’s not even two months,” Rafe murmured, scoffing. “Maybe I should just let you walk out and then drag your ass to court for child endangerment.”

Your heart sank, and you stepped towards him, but Rafe continued before you could say anything.

“It’s the middle of the night, and you’re trying to leave the house to go God knows where with him,” he spat.

“Rafe-.”

“Anything could happen,” he bit out, teeth clenched. “To you…to him…”

“I-.”

“…but maybe that’s what you want. Maybe you want something to happen to him…”

You looked at Rafe with wide eyes, chest tightening in disbelief at what he was saying. The blond let out a light chuckle, but it was mean. Venomous.

“Maybe you’re not in your right mind,” he slowly started.

You watched him frown, tilting his head as he appeared to be deep in thought.

“What do they call it?” he mused. “Postpartum depression…?”

“Rafe,” you quietly hissed, voice panicked.

“What else am I supposed to think? What else could I possibly tell the judge? It has to be the only explanation,” he continued, shaking his head. “The only explanation to why you’d take our newborn son and run off into the night to God knows where.”

“You’re being an asshole,” you whispered.

“No, I’m being his father,” he sternly told you, standing right before you, now.

You could see his face much better, and the anger in his voice didn’t come close to the look on his face. His blue eyes were cold, looking that much icier under the glow of the moon, and his jaw was clenched so tight it was a wonder it didn’t break. Rafe looked angry enough to kill, and you didn’t need to be a genius to know it was you he wanted to snuff out.

“I will drag you through the mud with no hesitation,” he whispered. “I will tell them whatever I have to just to make sure he stays with me.”

There was nothing light about his words and his tone, and you knew without a doubt that he was telling the truth.

“I will snatch him from you with no remorse, and you will never see him again. Not unless I will it,” Rafe quietly told you, so calm it was enough to scare you.

You took a step back, more tears spilling over, and your breath was shaky as you exhaled. The silence between you both was thick, very tense, and when Rafe moved closer, hands outstretched, you sniffed. You watched him take your son, shaking, and Rafe hummed at you, dragging his eyes over you as if he didn’t know whether to pity you or choke you.

“We’re going back to bed,” he finally whispered. “…you’re more than welcome to join us…or not…”

There were a lot of words he didn’t say, but his eyes told you everything, and you knew if you walked out of that door, Rafe wouldn’t rest until everything he said came true. You couldn’t stop crying, hating the sight of him in Rafe’s arms as he walked away. You wiped your face, wondering to yourself why of all people did you have to get tangled up with the son of Ward Cameron.

You didn’t know how long you stood by the door, crying and feeling sorry for yourself. You didn’t know how long you contemplated walking out of that door and taking your chance in court or going back upstairs to ensure you saw your son tomorrow.

When you finally made it back upstairs, you were still quietly crying, and you made your way to the crib, looking inside with tearful eyes. He was soundly asleep, oblivious and completely shielded from the toxicity that was his dad. You wiped your face again, visage almost crumbling as you turned away. You deposited the bag at the foot of the bed, slowly making your way to your side.

There was no doubt in your mind that Rafe was still awake, confirmed when you hesitantly laid down, and after some time, you heard and felt him turn towards you. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel the heat of his gaze, and you were thankful that he didn’t say anything when you turned your back to him, squeezing your eyes shut.

You smiled back at the cherubic face in front of you, changing his diaper and making faces at him. The events of the previous night weighed heavy on your chest, but you were determined to keep it from affecting how you interacted with your son. Bunny had said something once about babies picking up on energy, and whether or not you believed it, your feelings about Rafe were separate from those about the baby in front of you.

Disposing of the dirty diaper, you returned to him, leaning in and pressing kisses to his stomach. You did that a few times, and when you straightened the final time, you took note of the figure standing in the doorway. You paused at the sight of him for only half a second before returning your attention to your son.

Too long Rafe stood there, neither of you saying anything as you pretended like you hadn’t even noticed him. You were too busy enjoying your son, making him smile and redressing him. Eventually, Rafe did move, stepping further into the room.

“You’re so good with him,” he mused, and you noted that he sounded proud.

You didn’t really know what to say to that, and you kind of hated how he was pretending last night had never happened. Like he hadn’t threatened to paint you under whatever narrative he needed to keep your son from you, to control you. You heard him move closer, and again, you said nothing when he sat beside you.

Your son squirmed and kicked, and bitterness filled you at the evidence of how much he liked Rafe just as much as you.

When Rafe reached out to touch your hair, you jerked away, and you heard him exhale. Aside from getting up completely, you couldn’t do much when he decided to rest his chin on your shoulder, almost entirely leaning on you as a hand came up to curl around your waist.

“He has your eyes…” he breathed, a smile in his voice. “…and your lips…but my nose.”

You took a deep breath, and Rafe buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Do you have any idea how much you scared me last night?”

You looked away as he finally acknowledged the elephant in the room, heart skipping a beat at the icy nature of his voice.

“Anything really could’ve happened if you walked out that door, and if anything had happened to him…” his hand tightened on your waist. “I would never forgive you.”

You hadn’t thought it through, that was true, and Rafe’s very valid point brought tears to your eyes. He was still so young, still considered a newborn almost anywhere, and it really wasn’t good to have him out of the house. Especially at night, not properly dressed, and beyond the front porch. Rafe was right…but you’d panicked. All you had been able to think about was keeping him far away from Rafe, and you hadn’t considered much beyond that…

“If you ever try that again…you’ll be sorry.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“That I can promise you…”

You picked your son up, holding him to you as Rafe’s words settled, gaze tearful as you pressed kisses to his cheeks. Rafe’s fingers grazed your own cheek, and he pinched your chin, making you face him. His blue gaze held yours, and he brushed his thumb along your skin.

“The last thing I want is to take him from you, to separate our son from the mother I chose...” Rafe’s jaw ticked. “…but I will if I have to. I’ll do what’s necessary to keep you at my side, to keep you chained to me.”

You bit your tongue, looking away.

“I won’t hesitate to use him if it has you crawling back to me, if it has you ready to ask how high when I say jump.”

When Rafe pressed a brief peck to your lips, you jumped a bit, and the smile he gave you was cold.

“He makes you so happy…” he said, reaching out to play with your son’s hand, Rafe’s smile more genuine now. “Make that be enough.”

[reminiscingtonight]

Beauty in the Silence

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

[WOSO Masterlist]

Silence has always been comforting to you. Being surrounded by rowdy footballers nearly 24/7 makes you cherish all the peace and quiet you can find.

Sometimes it’s easy to come by, the muted hum of the morning when you first open your eyes, an automatic grin floating to your face at the soft snores next to you. Sometimes it’s a bit harder, having to seek out solitude at the training grounds, hiding away from your teammates until it’s time to go practice.

You love silence. It helps you think. It helps you recharge. It helps you see the world in a different way.

Silence is beautiful, wonderful, lovely. 

You love silence. 

But this silence? Well this is just torture.

Leah’s frowning next to you, glare hardening her face as she pointedly stares at the trail ahead.

Your day started out great. You woke to the sweet weight of your girlfriend on top of you, the blonde already smiling sleepily your way when your eyes blinked open. Leah was quick to join you in the shower, wanting to soak up all the time she could with you. Seeing as you didn’t have practice today, and that it was sunny out, upon finishing a late breakfast the two of you decided to go on a hike. Some of your teammates had recommended this trail to you a while back, but you could never find the time to do it until now.

So you packed a bag full of snacks and water and set out on your way.

The first thirty minutes went by fine. Leah kept complaining about the heat, but every time you offered to turn back she refused. The two of you basked in the other’s presence, laughing and joking about anything and everything. 

It isn’t until the conversation turns towards your teammates that everything changes. 

“Katie and Rue were having the dumbest argument the other day.”

Leah’s already chuckling before you even explain what they were going on about, knowing that the two of them always find the dumbest things to argue about. “What was it this time?”

“Well Katie was trying to convince Ruesha that water was wet. I swear Ruesha’s face turned as red as a tomato the second she said that.”

Leah nods, eyebrows furrowing as she takes in their argument. A cute look of seriousness crosses her face as she thinks it through, but you don’t have a time to swoon at how adorable she looks before she’s chiming in herself. “Well obviously Katie’s in the right.”

You almost trip over your feet. “I’m sorry?” 

“What?” Leah’s instantly looking at you with a look of confusion, perfectly mirroring the look on your face.

“Katie is so not right.”

“Yes she is.”

Cue ten minutes of a heated discussion, each of you trying to argue your points. Leah’s nothing if not stubborn, and you’re 100% the same. Your friends are always laughing about how the two of you could do anything you set your minds to, but right now, with heads metaphorically and almost physically clashing, neither of you are willing to back down.

With neither being able to convince the other of their side, the next logical step is to survey your friends. Georgia doesn’t even bother giving you an answer, saying something about how she wasn’t going to get into this with the two of you before hanging up the phone, but both Keira and Lucy were quick to side with you when you called them next.

Leah’s lips instantly pinched shut with distaste, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

You’re gleeful when you hang up, but one look at your girlfriend told you everything you needed to know. 

It’s been fifteen minutes since and Leah hasn’t spoken a single word to you. Even when you try to engage her in conversation, the blonde keeps her eyes straight ahead, annoyed huffs the only indication of her foul mood.

So here you are, nearly an hour into the hike, with at least two more hours to go, angry girlfriend in tow. You find yourself cursing your Irish friends. If only they had this argument out of earshot you wouldn’t have brought it up as something to laugh about with Leah.

WIth nothing else to do, you try to find a way to amuse yourself. It’s easy to spot the rock. It’s a tiny little thing, almost impossible to discern from the rocky terrain around you, but you manage to do so. 

You kick at it once. 

It rolls just slightly out of reach. 

You kick at it again when you finally catch up to it. 

It rolls out of reach again.

It isn’t until the fourth time you kick at the rock that a sharp voice rings out. 

“Can you not?” Leah rolls her eyes at you. “You’re such a child.”

“I’m the child? You’re the child!” you sputter, a bit relieved that Leah’s talking to you again but still a bit peeved yourself. “You’re literally pouting because Keira agreed with me!”

“I’m not,” she hotly responds. 

When the rock comes back into view, you’re already itching to kick at it again. 

Leah beats you to it, kicking it off the path. 

Your mouth drops open. “Leah!”

“What?” She innocently bats her eyelashes at you, but you can still see the challenge in her eyes. 

You sigh, body slouching a bit. 

A couple minutes pass. More silence. Every second without hearing Leah’s voice bites at you. 

You risk a look towards her. The blonde’s eyes are still focused forward, ends of her lips turned downwards.

“Are you still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.” Her response is instant.

Your face falls. She’s definitely still mad at you. “The glare on your face says otherwise,” you mutter, scuffing your feet on the ground.

“I’m not mad at you.” Her glare hardens. She kicks at your foot. “Stop dragging your feet, you’re going to ruin your shoes.”

You groan, pout deepening. “Leah.”

“What?” she huffs. 

She’s turned away from you so she doesn’t see the glint in your eyes. 

“Mad Leah is kinda sexy.” It’s a bit of a gamble, saying something so out of pocket.

“I’m not mad,” she huffs again. It’s small, but you see the beginning hints of a smile. 

Hook, line, sinker. 

You drape yourself around Leah’s shoulders. The blonde seems a little taken aback by the physical contact. She’s instantly trying to squirm away. “Get off, it’s so hot.”

The more she tries to remove you, the tighter you cling on. 

“Wanna go home and have sex?”

It’s almost a bit amusing how you can nearly see her brain short circuit at the quick change of topics. Leah’s mouth drops open as she shoots you a nearly scandalized look.

You grin innocently at her. 

She pretends to think about it for a minute.

“Whoever makes it to the car first gets first dibs on the strap.”

She shoves you off her and you fall onto the ground with a thump. Leah’s sprinting backwards back towards the car before you can even get your bearings. 

You’re instantly scrambling onto your feet, trying to catch up to her. “Leah! That’s not fair!”

[fleetingvow]

‘ DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS .

Wednesday Addams x Female Reader.

SYNOPSIS. wednesday said crying never does anything, but why did a tear fall? will you never wake up?

NAVIGATION. part one - part two. masterlist.

WARNINGS. character death ( reader’s ), just slight faint angst. more thoughts, less plot. countless usage of parallelism in sentence structures.

NOTE. written in second person’s point of view.

𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗠𝗘𝗧 the ground. One after the other. Wednesday’s eyes slightly blinked, staring at her trembling hands stained with the essence of your life ebbing away in horror as she realised how much time you’ve spent with your eyes closed on the courtyard.

‘Tears,’ she thought. She looked away from it and continued to put her attention to you. She didn’t have to try that hard to do so, for everything that filled the arteries in her body all had something to do with the most damnable you.

It was all you.

You on the floor without a sardonic remark to catch her off guard. You and your pursed lips without a breath of exasperation from her antics. You and your cold hands that slipped away and lied so still. You and your pale appearance that shouldn’t be. You and your pulse that she couldn’t feel any longer. And mostly you being gone.

You were the reason that pulled the strings at the back of her mind and caused the salty disturbances to her sight. As she processed what had happened, she couldn’t look at you now. She furrowed her eyebrows and averted her gaze to the door that led to the inside of the school.

Wednesday could just walk away and leave you here. She could do that. But her feet betrayed her when she tried. Her heart — God, her abhorrent, distasteful, black cold heart; The crushing and tearing of it, although how intoxicating the pain may be, she felt defeated. Maybe you won the life-long challenge between you and her after all.

“I will kill you,” she mumbled to herself. She didn’t know what would make it feel better. She knew she had to do something to stop herself from feeling. She was feeling, the live creature kept in her ribcage was racing, her mind was spinning, and she could feel a wash of heavy emotions drown her. She needed to do something.

She wanted to do something. Wednesday clutched your uniform, tighter and tighter to the point that her nails almost dug through the fabric and cut her palm. This rage, it was something new. She wanted you. The tension that even the knives hidden under your bed couldn’t cut always screamed something like this. Like you were the most foul creature to ever walk the Earth. Like you were the tiniest little speck of dust on her shoe. Like you were the colour in her void making her want to scratch her eyes out.

Like you were — Like you’d be the reason she’d tear the world apart.

Wednesday wanted to deny it, but the thought made her notice a strange sensation again. She knew her disdain wasn’t truly disdain solely because of you, but it was scarier to admit now. She had lost her chance, her sanity, her will — Would you just wake up? She was tired of screaming at herself internally. She wanted to rest.

The damage the arrow had left her earlier was starting to take a toll on her, making her slowly and dubiously lay her head on your chest. She was tired. She wanted to lay down, and you couldn’t be the only one to enjoy peace, could you?

No. She couldn’t stand idly by as you enjoyed the tranquillity of what came after life and death. Wednesday could not bear it. She refused to, and she always will.

That’s when her ear touched the centre of your chest, and — Thump! Thump!

Her eyes widened at the sound. She frowned and fixed her position, shifting so she could still get a good grip of you and hold herself in place on the spot where she heard something she never thought she could again.

And there it was! A beat of your heart. Two, three. She didn’t hesitate once she heard it. Your heartbeats were faint, but she trusted whatever it was that existed that you had a chance.

She had a chance.

Wednesday quickly sat up and fixed herself alongside you, removing her jacket as she rolled her sleeves up in haste, positioning her hands in a way that she believed she’d never seen coming in her entire life. Years of believing she only cut the head of those unwilling to live a life. Years of torment as her favourite pastime, and now she had her hands fixed in a CPR position to revive a life she had long-resided to be unworthy and irritating.

She did not care. She wanted you alive so she could kill you herself.

The round of the first pumps and she already felt as though she was going to replace herself in your position due to her desperation.

“You're not going to die on me, I dare you.” She mumbled and resumed.

Once you’ve gotten yourself involved with Wednesday, she was sure that you’d never find a way out to escape her grip. She had poured whatever she had outside the lines of the usual her — the real her. She had run around frantically for you, had her mind run a million miles just to think about anything that correlated to you. She feared. She’d never been scared. Only for you.

Once she got to the third round of the CPR, Wednesday had gone back to zero, thinking you weren’t going to wake up again, but she was more stubborn than that.

You weren’t dead, you were just sleeping. That’s what she hopelessly believed. She lived in-denial. Breathed in denial as long as she was around you.

“If you don’t wake up, I’ll set this school on fire. Wake up, Y/N!”

Again.

You will die with her, but not now. At this point, Wednesday was aware of herself. Why she hated you, why she thought about you, why she wondered about your lips, why she looked at you up and down so hesitantly when you taunted her about the person she tolerated the most. It was ironic seeing you in a burning light but never truly wanting to set you on fire. In fact, she’d watch the world be set on fire by her own doing.

As long as she was watching it in your eyes.

Wednesday faintly grunted. “We’ll fight everyday, if that’s what you want. We have a deal, but I want the end of your bargain. Wake up. Do you hear me, L/N?”

“We’ll stab each other until we don’t see another spot in our bodies in which we could occupy with wounds. Just — ” The young Addams tried to stop herself from saying it. How she hated herself. Hated you for making her this way.

You were a crime, yet she didn’t mind committing it again and again.

“Wake up.”

Her braids were swinging back and forth with beads of sweat scattered on her forehead. “I look so utterly stupid because of you.”

“You will wake up, do you understand me?”

She didn’t know how long she’ll have to keep doing it, but it was a great relief when the door to the courtyard had been busted open and more people than she needed rushed to the courtyard, pointing their flashlights to the girl who never stopped doing the CPR on the unconscious you.

Everything seemed slower. Wednesday couldn’t hear anyone. She felt as if it was finally maybe alright if she let go of her composure when her relief washed over her that the help that she wanted was finally sprinting over to you.

Every movement, she felt like the time slowed on purpose, because once she looked at you once again, she felt her heart break once more when she spotted the man who checked your pulse shake his head solemnly.

Fuck, were you gone?

“No,” she absent-mindedly whispered, breaking from the gasp of the people taking her away from you. “No, she’s not dead!”

The man couldn’t look at her, sparking the vexation in Wednesday. She briskly grabbed him by the collar as her breath hitched, “She’s alive. I heard her heartbeat. You better do your job and start reviving her or I will put an end to this whole school with all of you in it.”

The others looked at each other, frightened by a threat made by a delinquent Nevermore kid before nodding. Another chance, and maybe you’d open those eyes again.

Another chance, and maybe this time, she’d tell you for sure just what it is that you do to her.

* * *

Static! Blood! Knife!

Those three words kept replaying like a broken record. The metallic smell of your blood had become so vivid you feared it would latch onto you forever. You were cold. Too cold you felt like you were dead.

Maybe you were.

You remembered the suffocating feeling. You recalled not being able to breathe, but what was it that you felt now? Nothing.

Nothing?

You winced. Oh, that’s what you felt now. That’s when your senses came back but almost too tired to fully function. You could still feel the familiar object buried deep in your abdomen, and fuck, how much it hurt!

“Wednesday saved her life.” Bianca? Was that her? You couldn’t open your eyes fully, but once it was half-up, the only things you saw were blue and red, blurry lights and blurry heads.

You wanted to fall asleep.

“If — girl hadn’t — CPR — hopeless.”

You didn’t care whatever the full sentence was. All you knew was you were about to slip back into your peaceful slumber, not knowing what had been happening the moment you woke up again.

Yet before you embraced the warmth of slumber, you saw the figure you hated on your side, staring at you so emotionless, making you ponder whether you were cared about or perceived to be stupid.

Maybe this was the last time you’d ever see those braids again, but it was okay to smile passive-aggressively, right?

You believed it to be a great way to die.

* * *

The knife plunging into you with the face of the evil staring tight at you in the face inflicted the pain of acid burning your insides. You couldn’t erase that.

The object kept appearing. Your blood kept flowing. Your gasps kept continuing to emit from your lips.

It kept repeating. Again and again and again.

You wanted it to end. You desired to scream. The fire that accompanied the scene in the courtyard danced around you, glad that you were meeting your end. Your family stood before you when you turned around, each one chanting the same thing, telling you never to return home again. Your past lover wishing they’d never met you joined in on the fun of tormenting you. Saying that you were their greatest regret and shame.

A storm soon started, and the pain was felt all over again. All you could see was the fire, the faces, the drops of the sky, and your blood everywhere. You spun around to look for a way out.

God, you wanted to live!

You didn’t want to die!

You wanted to breathe!

You wanted to feel!

You wanted to make more memories!

You wanted to dance under the rain!

You wanted to steal the English crown!

Your subconsciousness kept craving for more to life than walking around at the school, staring at people without another thought. Just that you were absolutely jealous that they had what you wanted.

Genuine love.

The moment your eyes met a certain pair peeking through her long lifted eyelashes, you almost believed in the thing called attraction. You resided in the faith that the attraction was because you were polar opposites and she kept standing out because she made you feel so irritated.

Yet you had the urge to touch her, feel her hands and touch her pale cold cheeks.

You wanted so many things, and why couldn’t you have that now?

You saw a blinding white light, a place in which you were unaware. There were things you were familiar with yet never familiarised yourself with before at the same time. You scanned your surroundings, the flash of colours now starting to appear. The blue, the green, the spectrum of refracted lights. You kept seeing the cursed smile, the blood on your hands, and the dagger in your flesh. You wanted to scream.

And then — and then there was Wednesday.

The Wednesday who sat beside the bed patiently, careful not to let the support of the chair touch her back. Her who pursed her lips without yet again any emotions peeking through her dead eyes. Her who stared at nothing. The Wednesday who swore to bring you down one day, and now holding your hand on the bed. You thought this was impossible. This was a hallucination for sure.

Her face was etched with fear and worry.

Wednesday never looked like that.

What was she doing following you in the afterlife? Didn't she have any better plans of holidays, dancing on top of graves somewhere?

You didn't believe it and almost laughed, "Wednesday Addams, as I live and breathe! You know you look terrifying when you zone — "

That’s when you realised it was all real. When the girl’s eyes gaped at you and her clutch tightened more that made you feel the full living of her you had hatefully adored. “You’re actually awake.”

“I am?”

“You will never do that to me again.”

“Do what again?” You playfully asked, playing the clueless card as if you weren’t just stabbed.

“Make horrible puns.”

“You missed me.”

“Barely.”

“I heard you saved my life.”

“I did not. I left you at the courtyard to bleed out to death.”

How come you even had the audacity to smirk at her right now after the heart attack she’d been experiencing since you were shown around with a knife to your abdomen?

“When can we throw knives at each other until there’s no spot in our bodies to torment again?”

“I won’t let you do that.”

“Wednesday!”

She emotionlessly looked at you before looking at the bunch of roses without the petals yet adored with thorns on the bedside. “You’re the most idiotic person I know.”

“I’m aware,” those roses. You knew those were her mother’s favourite. You almost diverted your gaze to shy away the smile that was twitching to form on your face, but instead, you returned the gesture of holding her hand. “But I’d do anything for you, Wednesday.” You looked away from the sudden confession.

A sigh. There it was. Were your feelings unreciprocated? Did you misunderstand her cues? You couldn’t understand.

But that was when she mumbled, unwavering like sturdy tree in the eye of a storm.

Wednesday gazed down at your hands, joined together without dirt and blood.

For a moment, she thought she’d never see that sight again. That she won’t ever lay her eyes upon the lively annoyingly missed you.

For a month she suffered silently, dismissing her writing hours in lieu of thinking about how you were and what had happened.

But you were here now. You were awake on the bed you’ve been sleeping in without wake, holding her pale hands with her painted fingers gripping yours desperately trying to remember the feeling for the later eternities to come. You were warm and alive.

Breathing and well, making her slightly pull her lips upwards. It was a good feeling. The poison in her veins she knew were spiked by everything about you.

You were stuck with her now. Forever is a really long time. Will you comit when she finally said it?

“I almost burnt the whole school for you.”

TAGS. @blazemaster4014 @n0p35 @elduster @niekapral @iquit-28 @vlkyriesverse @anidiotwhoreads @emscave @belltako @ryver19 @daddy-jareau @zoophobictiktok @justarandomweeblol @justtiasblog @angel-luv-04 @sunasami @kyday @llcursed-imagell @IIcursed-imageII @alexkolax @anouknagel @leathesimp @manu-007s-world @liliesandrosies @dandelions4us @pennybutwise @ilacknames @eclipsesmoonshine14 @wizardofstories @jas-the-shrimp @director-raven @simpform1lfs @dreifhraniquo29

NOTE TO TAGS. thank you all so fucking much for supporting and leaving notes to the fic that i have created! i am so thrilled that you’re willing to wait this far just to get a part two of the wednesday addams fic! you don’t know how happy i am that you have given appreciation to what i created, and how it motivates me to keep moving forward with this account and my writing overall. wednesday addams christmas special will surely be a thing this month! advanced happy christmas to each and every single one of you! <3

[bougiebutchbinch]

horrid little brainworm

Frenchie is still green at the start of the Kraken era.

He isn't, by the end.

But back then, when it all begins - when he isn't used to the sting of kohl-mixed sweat dripping into his eyes - he makes mistakes. Lots of them. Simple little things - fluffing a knot in the rigging that has their sail unfurling midway through the dogwatch, goods left unstowed to roll with the list of their ship.

Most of the time, Izzy yells himself hoarse for five minutes, then shows Frenchie how to fix it, interspersing his lecture with expletives. Whatever. That's fine. Let the little man scream - he's not the scariest thing aboard anymore.

Never was, really.

But then Blackbeard (Ed? The Kraken?) stomps out of his cabin, hair a black thundercloud, and snarls 'which one of you men is responsible for that fucking mop', pointing to some cleaning equipment Frenchie forgot to pack away.

And everything goes still, as if they're becalmed.

[CW: whipping, abuse, non-explicit mentions of Frenchie's past locked-box traumas]

No one says Frenchie's name - not even Izzy. He just ducks his chin and refuses to look his captain in the eye. But the eyes of every other crewmember jump guiltily to Frenchie, at least once - and Blackbeard is too smart to miss such a tell.

"A ship needs discipline," he says. "Isn't that what you always tell me, Iz?"

"I'll attend to it," says Izzy, voice scratchier than ever. Frenchie knows this is a bad fucking situation - memories battering against the inside of his locked box, trying to get out - but somehow he can't feel fear. Can't really feel anything.

"With the cat," says Blackbeard. "Give the culprit fifteen. Really make the lesson stick."

Ah. There's the fear.

Frenchie's breath stifles itself halfway up his throat, as screams sneak through the keyhole of his box, along with the crack of a whip -

No. No, no, no. He can't. Not again, he can't -

Izzy glances up. Frenchie expects him to grin, all vindictive sadism - but whatever he sees on Frenchie's face has his mouth pulling into a tight line.

"Yes, sir," he says, though Frenchie barely hears over the dull roar of his heart.

He casts his gaze about, looking for an escape. Over the side? They're too far from land, but fuck, if it isn't tempting -

Jim fondles their knives, glaring mutinously at Blackbeard's back as he returns to his cabin. They don't spring after him (though Frenchie selfishly wishes they would). They're well aware - as is everyone - that right now, with Blackbeard black-eyed and bloodthirsty, they'd lose.

Izzy swallows. Shuts his eyes. Then calls for Fang to fetch the cat.

Frenchie loses time then. Scarcely a blink passes before Fang reappears above the deck, the strings of the knotted whip scraping the floor like the tentacles of a shrunken sea-monster.

They're flaky with rusty residue. Old, dried blood.

Frenchie's fingers twitch in the chords of the first song his Ma taught him. No rituals or superstitions will save him. Nothing will. Because his old crew are marooned, almost certainly dead, and his new crew are - with the exception of Fang and Jim and Ivan - fucking monsters.

He's going to be whipped (again). He's going to shred open all those old scars. The box is going to open, and -

Oh, God. Oh God. Fifteen lashes is survivable (Frenchie knows, he knows) but he's still not sure if anything of himself will emerge from the other side.

He's still frozen, staring at the whip held in Fang's big hands, flat out like he's presenting it to Izzy. Only... Izzy doesn't take it.

No, Izzy moves to stand in front of the mast. Walking stiff, with a bit of a limp. While Frenchie's reeling, struggling to process what's happening, he yanks off his shirt. And - fuck, his back is almost as ugly a sight as Frenchie knows his own would be, if he could bear to study it in a mirror.

A few of the crew draw shocked inhales. Most don't look surprised.

Frenchie is one of the latter group. Sound travels, on a ship.

"Um," says Fang, cat dangling limp. "Boss?"

Izzy grabs the hawsers wrapped around the mainmast. Heaves a deep breath. Rests his forehead against the wood.

"You heard the captain," he croaks. "Fifteen lashes."

Fang's eyes are moist - though they are more often than not, nowadays. "Boss - "

"The captain wants the culprit disciplined," Izzy says. His muscles flex beneath their coating of scars. Bracing himself, Frenchie's mind supplies. For the oncoming pain. Not that any amount of tensing is ever enough. "First mate's responsible for maintaining a tidy deck."

This turn of events finally settles into Frenchie's bones. The whip's not for him, thank everything. His key slides gratefully into the lock of his box and turns, ensuring it's shut tight.

Still, sickness churns in his guts. Last week, sleep eluded him. He'd intended to skulk above decks and breathe the sea air to clear his head. He never made it - because who should stagger out of the captain's cabin, so dead-eyed he didn't even notice Frenchie lurking in the shadows of the galley door, but the Revenge's thrice-cursed angry gremlin of a first mate?

Izzy hadn't looked much like a gremlin then, though. Doesn't now, either. Just looks. Tired. And old. And bruised to shit beneath his shirt, and not all of those lash marks are old, weathered scars, and -

Frenchie's fingers twitch more rapidly, pressing through their imaginary chord sequence.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit -

"Fifteen lashes," Izzy reminds Fang. "If you can't do it, anyone else is free to step up. I'm sure there'll be fucking volunteers."

Frenchie eyes Jim. They and Izzy aren't exactly friends - not when Frenchie has heard them mumble a word that sounds horrifically close to 'Oluwande' in their sleep.

But Jim stays right where they are. Hand on the hilt of a knife. Ivan emulates, and, well, Frenchie's feet have damn near put down roots. He couldn't move from this spot if he was ordered to.

Fang's tears well over, and his hand shakes on the whip handle to the point where Frenchie thinks he might drop it.

A clash from the great cabin has them all jumping - all but Izzy, who rests his cheek on the mast like it's a particularly splintery pillow, eyes drifting shut. Blackbeard barges back out, sousing the air with body odour and smoke and self-hatred and whatever the fuck else he's been marinating in.

"What's the fucking wait?" he demands. "I expected way more screams by now." He halts, frowning at the sight of Izzy, stood where Frenchie ought to be (because fuck, he shouldn't have left that mop and bucket out; how many times has Izzy told him - ). For a moment, the harsh line of his brows crumples on itself in something that could be mistaken for regret. But then that dark sneer crawls onto his lips, the one with which the whole crew is becoming familiar. "Can't pick who gets the privilege, eh? Well, lucky for the lot of you, that's what a captain's for."

He stalks forwards, feline-graceful. Frenchie scuttles from his path. When Blackbeard snatches the whip from Fang (not seeming to notice his whimper, his flinch) Frenchie fully anticipates that he'll turn on Izzy, not him.

He certainly doesn't expect Blackbeard to smile, cold and white as a toenail moon, and thrust the whip towards him, hilt first.

"Oh, no." Frenchie raises both hands in surrender. "No, no, no. I couldn't. Awful with a whip, me. Wouldn't, um..." There's the noise of it again, slithering out through the keyhole of his box. The swish. The crack. The scream. "Wouldn't be able to strike hard enough," he stutters. "No upper body strength, yeah."

Blackbeard doesn't approach Frenchie. Just keeps the whip held out towards him, like the accusative finger of a god.

"You give him fifteen," he says, gently. "And make each one count. Or I give him fifty."

Against the mast, Izzy makes a sound - not quite a whimper. Worse; it's far too much like relief. His hands don't shake, but only because they grip the hawser tight as rigor mortis.

Fifty can kill. Has killed before. Frenchie's seen it.

But Blackbeard doesn't want Izzy dead, right? Who would he torture then?

Blackbeard's blank, lifeless eyes pour into Frenchie's.

Who indeed?

Fuck. Frenchie swallows dry. He tells himself it's for self-preservation that he unsticks his boots from the deck and shuffles forth to take the whip. Not for Izzy. Not like he likes the angry little prick. Man's vicious as a cat and thrice as cursed.

Maybe, if Frenchie tells himself that, it'll make this memory easier to lock away with all the rest.

"Ready?" he asks Izzy, softer than he intends. Izzy twists over his scarred shoulder. He looks at Frenchie - really looks at him - for what feels like the first time. Not even glancing to his left, where the Kraken lurks.

Frenchie can't decipher his expression. Pity, for whatever made him offer himself up in Frenchie's place? Frustration, that Frenchie prevented Blackbeard from whipping him into the grave? Misery and fear - no, that's far too sane for a guy like Izzy.

Izzy turns back to the mast.

"Give me your worst," he says.

Frenchie breathes in, breathes out, and obeys.