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silknspice · 1 month ago

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STICKY SITUATION

⎯ ୨୧ pairings: fake dating! vi x reader

⎯ ୨୧ content: mentions of alcohol, college au, lying, swearing, fake dating tropes used, lowercase intended, not proofread, wc 3.5k

“no telling anyone, i’ll be coming to all of your hockey games and after parties, and absolutely no tongue when kissing.”

you looked up at vi for reassurance after reciting the pink-written “rules” paper in front of you. the pinkette hummed, muscular and defined arms moving from their position draped over the top of the couch to her manspread knees as she shifted to lean slightly forward.

caitlyn kiramman and violet lane were officially over. it was assumed to be a mutual breakup that both parties would grieve on for the appropriate amount of time, but the soft launch the pinkett awoke to on caitlyn’s story the next morning spoke otherwise. maddie nolen. getting with the woman she told vi “not to worry about” was low, all vi could do was go lower.

and so she enlisted you. stunning, charming, intelligent, an all-rounder. the way caitlyn clung onto her ex-lover for dear life when you were around, as if vi were a mere moth and you were light. if anyone would give the “mongoose”, as vi called her, a run for her money, it’d be you.

“it’s a solid contract, for now.” she agreed. her eyes lingered on yours for a moment before flickering to her dorm window, the absence of light prompting her to lean back once more and speak. “it’s late, y’know. why don’t you stay the night?”

you paused on your way to stand before finishing the movement. “charming, really, but you don’t have to offer that, vi. i’ll walk back to my building. thanks thoug-” the girl drowned out your words with her reassuring ones.

“stay,” she simply insisted, backtracking as a beat passed and she had yet to explain. “it’d look good for the deal, y’know? besides.. we have some details to solidify.” as she finished speaking she lifted a hand and waved you over with only two fingers.

you set your bag back down and scoffed at the action. “i’m not a dog.” your feisty claim was cancelled out by the way you followed her command like a puppy.

you sat on the couch next to violet. closer than usual, but still too far for her liking. the hockey player rolled her eyes, a hint of a smirk crossing her face. “not there, honey.” you furrowed your brows, looking around to see what could possibly be wrong with your arrangement. “then where am i supposed to sit?”

vi’s hint of a grin attempted to stay hidden, tongue poking the inside of her cheek as she leaned over and grabbed your hips to flip you to straddle her lap on the couch.

“where it’s easiest for me to give you a hickey.”

you laughed, shaking your head and using your arms to lean back from vi’s chest. at the sound of silence in the room your smile dropped, staring at the girl eyeing you expectantly.

“you’re serious?” you asked louder than intended, mouth agape as the girl moved her hands to rest at your hips. “people won’t believe we’re a couple just because we said so,” she started. “especially not caitlyn, she’s too smart..” you added, beginning to understand her perspective.

“exactly,” she whispered, leaning in. “b’sides, we need to practice.”

vi leaned in, caressing the back of your head to hold you closer as she latched onto the side of your neck. she placed a gentle kiss before sucking a bit harder. you hummed as she slid a hand up to hold your hair before detaching from your neck with a pop.

“there.” she spoke softly, eyeing the red and purple love bite forming. “perfect."

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“perfect,” you smiled, picking up the letterman jacket vi placed in front of your position on the bed. “violence” was written on the back rather than her last name. clad in nothing but a t shirt and shorts as pajamas, you slid the jacket on to see how it fit. as you adjusted it and fixed your hair, vi walked up to her bed and held up her phone.

“smile,” she spoke quickly, snapping a photo of your soft smile and slightly confused eyes.

“what was that for?” you muttered, watching vi’s frame as she sat next to you and turned her screen.

already posted on vi’s snap story was a photo of you, sat on her bed, legs appearing bare as the girl’s letterman and oversized tee covered your shorts. the text on the screen read “post ‘workout’”.

“vi!” you sputtered, letting out a gentle laugh as you hit her shoulder and earned a playful grin from the girl. “hey- now we’re on the map.” the pinkett reassured you with a smug look as she opened the various messages responding to the story.

‘ITS NINE IN THE MORNINGG’ ‘crazy work’

you felt the girl’s gaze on you as you watched the reactions roll in with an amused smile. fellow classmates praising vi for ‘making a move’, saying how cute you two look together, even claiming to have ‘known this would happen all along’. for a moment, you let yourself forget it was all pretend.

a veiny hand placed itself on your thigh, making you flinch at the sudden contact. you looked to violet, eyes locking in the moment before ridding of the tension.

“see that? we need’a get rid of that.” she grinned.

you scoffed, flicking her hand off of you as you stood and rid yourself of the thick letterman. “nothing in the contract says you need to grope me,” you teased, hands on your hips as you turned to pick a shirt from vi’s messily folded space.

“gro- what?” she scoffed, caught off guard as she attempted to defend herself. “nobody’s gonna believe we’re a couple if you jump every time I lay a hand on you!” the girl huffed, her gaze turning every which way before leaning back on her forearms.

you only hummed as she continued to talk, turning with your back to her as you grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head.

vi‘s words died in her throat, eyes widening at the line of your back. your smooth skin and pearly smile blinded her as you turned your head, picking up one of her shirts.

“what? nobody's gonna believe we're a couple if you choke up when you see my body." your cocky smile filled your face as you turned away from the girl.

"by the way, you're drooling."

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“ew, you fucking drooled!” jinx’s loud laugh drowned out the room as she scolded her boyfriend, despite the roaring party atmosphere. all throughout the frat house was a crowd of students looking to get wasted, heaps of alcohol, and bad decisions waiting to happen.

“i did not!” ekko defended himself, wiping away any possible evidence from his lips. you giggled at the two and leaned into the strong arm wrapped around your waist. after a few days of casual pda across campus to keep up the act, vi was finally able to touch you without you scolding her about ‘the contract’ or making a gasp that she found adorable.

she figured an arm wrapped around your torso was appropriate after the third guy in a row came up to you and asked to dance. you figured this was a good way to warn people off so that she didn’t threaten anyone else and get jayce to ban them from the frat.

“alright, another! i wanna be moving out there tonight,” jinx exclaimed, picking up a liquor, pouring two shots, and stopping over the third glass. you had already opted out on alcohol, so the blue haired girl’s gaze trailed to her sister. “vi? you pregnant or something? haven’t touched a glass yet. i’m worried.” the girl teased, tilting her head.

“ha ha,” vi rolled her eyes playfully, her grip on you becoming present once more as she spoke. “can’t. i’m drivin’ honey home tonight.” the younger girl fake gagged, downing her shot with her boyfriend following in suit. as the couple continued their antics, vi leaned into you. the space between you thinned as you grew to feel her soft exhales on the back of your neck. “look to your left, at the end of the couch.” her words were hushed to a sneaky whisper that kissed your ears as she kept your body warm with her proximity.

you obeyed, holding back a smile as you peeked to your left. a girl, decorated in blue locs, was staring back at you with stars in her eyes. she blew you a kiss that was mentally intercepted by vi with a scoff. “more competition.” you teased, turning your head to face hers.

“y’know, if i’d known you attract this much attention-” you cut her words off, bringing your hand up to fix a pink strand of hair that’d fallen in front of her face.

“you’d have what? chosen another girl to torture with your silly ex drama?” you hummed.

the pinkett snickered, cocky smile painting her face as her grip on you tightened ever so slightly. “not a chance.”

the moment between you fell silent and soft despite the roaring music surrounding before jayce’s smiling face filled your vision. “evening lovebirds,” the man grinned, taking a shot from the jinx’s hands and downing it while she groaned with anger. vi smiled, thumb tracing patterns absentmindedly along your hip. “shouldn’t you be losing a game of beer pong right about now?” she teased her friend.

“hah, no.” the sarcastic response made you giggle, fanning your face gently with one hand as the room’s air only became stiffer at the arrival of more guests. “mel and i are hitting up the hot tub with some.. other guests.” he lifted another shot glass, this time one that powder poured for him.

getting some fresh air sounded so good right now.

vi hummed while letting her hand slide off of your waist, her touch just grazing over your lower back before sticking her fist in the pocket of her baggy jeans. without speaking, she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow in question.

“yes please.” you begged, already handing your phone to jinx to watch over. most likely a decision you and your phone storage will regret later, but that was a future problem. jayce let out a chuckle, flashing his pearly whites before setting his last shot glass down and waving you and vi to follow.

your hands intertwined, jayce leading you who’s hands embraced both his and vi’s. the man pulled you both through the drunken community and let go to exit through the decorated doorway. the colorful lighting dimmed and was replaced by the blue hue of the pool and light from the night stars. jayce found mel’s gaze from across the space, a grin growing on the frat member’s mouth. he hastily removed his shirt and shorts, tossing them onto a table by the poolside. “just join us when you’re ready!” he rushed out, jogging over to his lover.

vi let out a sharp “hah”, muttering something about talis being “pussy whipped”. you only smiled, turning to the side as you fixed your arms across your torso and lifted the cropped top over your head. vi’s playful mutters died in her throat, and a soft “oh” was born. that ‘stripping practice’ wasn’t much help.

she hoped and prayed you’d suggest giving it another try.

two sets of clothes fell, every fabric hitting the floor adding to the heavy pile of tension, one too complex and thick to cut with a knife. the two of you hummed, taking each other in as your gazes travelled up and down with heavy lidded eyes.

rather than a knife, jayce’s call to you from across the landscape successfully dissipated all conflicting and curious thoughts. momentarily. “yo, what are you waiting for!”

the pinkette’s lips curled into a smile, her arm finding its resting spot around your waist. you exchanged no words as your feet moved with purpose, anticipating the feeling of the steamy water that would soon encase and soothe your body for the time being.

or not.

“violet?”

it wasn’t your mouth that spewed the name. you radiate love, the way in which you called out vi’s name warmed her and provided an indescribable feeling. it was said cold, surprised, and almost with distaste.

“caitlyn.” vi’s response was equally distant, a hint of shock at the end. the newfound emotion quickly switched to anger as she turned to the man looking like a deer in headlights. “jayce..” her voice was low, a warning.

wide eyes flickered between the past lovers before swaying to his immediate left. “mel?” he called for help, the woman only laughing as she relaxed into the warm water. “you’re on your own.”

the ginger girl at caitlyn’s side looped an arm around her bicep, squeezing gently to grab her attention. “let’s go, yeah?” she tried, but the woman didn’t budge.

you scoffed, a snarky remark on it’s way to sneak past your lips when jayce interrupted. “hey- okay wait wait!” he started, gaze travelling between the girls. “i know how tense everything is right now, but i care about both of you. i hate having to choose sides or run back and forth to be with you guys. can you at least try to be civil tonight?”

the loudest silence fell upon the group, you and maddie not daring to make a face until your lover– or faux one decided.

“fine.”

the night progressed as jayce dreamed. vi sat with you on her lap, your skin plush against one of her thighs, her arms wrapped around your waist as the water threatened to take you away. she suggested it was the “easiest position to whisper in your ear discreetly”. you were on top of her before she thought of the explanation. maddie and caitlyn sat directly across the hot tub, the ginger holding onto one of the bluenette’s biceps in hopes of calming the annoyed look that covered her face. mel and jayce, ever the mediators, carried the tense conversation to the best of their abilities.

after a draining thirty minutes of passive aggressive disses, everyone nodding and pretending to understand jayce’s technological talks, and you standing your ground during an intense staring contest with maddie, you’d had enough.

“oh it was disastrous. then of course i had to miss a couple days as i was ill with a cold–” caitlyn’s story was drowned out as you spoke up with a smile sweet enough to cause a toothache.

“really?” you tilted your head. “i heard you got mono after a party,” you hummed, voice laced with fake concern. you had no clue if the claims were true, you were just tired of her talking.

the bluenette’s eyes widened only slightly, her mouth slightly agape. maddie turned her head, a brow gently furrowing in suspicious confusion. “but.. i didn’t have-”

“well that’s what happens when you’re freed from a past situation that was unskilled in such acts.” caitlyn spoke over the girl. her gaze flickered over to vi and back to jayce who was desperately praying to change the topic. you bit your tongue with a small scoff under your breath, vi’s muscular arms tensed their grip around you subconsciously before relaxing at the thought of an idea.

“you wanna crash this shit?” vi whispered, words kissing your ear with her lips just inches away. you nodded your head with desperate eyes.

she tapped on your leg below the water, making you turn your head and torso ever so slightly towards her. without warning, her lips crashed into yours, arms adjusting their position to hold your waist. “keep going,” she whispered between one of the many kisses. your hands trailed up to tangle in her hair, gently gripping as you felt the pinkette softly bite on your bottom lip. your mouth opened just enough from shock that the muscular girl could slide her tongue in, allowing it to get tangled with and slide against yours.

fuck.

you allowed all of it to happen. the way her hands slid up and down your side, the way her lips encased and warmed yours, the way her tongue explored every inch of your mouth, the way mel and jayce noticed in shock and amusement, and the way caitlyn and maddie looked as though they’d explode within the next second.

you did anything but stop, hardly listening as caitlyn scoffed, letting out an “unbelievable” as her and maddie climbed out of the hot tub and stormed off. it wasn’t until mel questioned “was this display for us or them?” that you pulled yourself from vi with a cheeky smile. you didn’t miss the way she followed after your lips.

the pinkette flashed that infamous smirk, apologizing to mel and jayce with a laugh before leaning in one last time to whisper in your ear, “good job, honey.”

your heart raced at the comment, but it didn’t stop you from pushing the girl back with an almost-serious expression on your face. “you broke the contract!” you exclaimed, pressing an accusatory finger to her chest.

it wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy it, like you didn’t slide your tongue along hers as she claimed your mouth.

it was the fact that every time you moved further in this fake affair, you grew more worried. the fact that all of your firsts with her would be fake tugged on your heart strings. and when the drama boils over, what would happen between the two of you? in your mind, as your tongues entangled, so did your hearts.

vi choked on her words, searching for an explanation. why did she do that again? she couldn’t help herself. not good enough. oh, right. “i told you! couples-”

“contract?”

the two of you froze, turning back to jayce and mel who eyed you suspiciously.

fuck.

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“fuck,”

jinx huffed out under her breath, barely audible with the loud bundle of students in the surrounding stands. “it smudged again!” the girl whined, looking into the camera of her phone as she attempted to fix a line of eye black on her face. mel chuckled, muttering a “give me that,” as she held the girl’s face and evened out the line with a tissue.

it was nearing the end of the second intermission, with your school and the neighboring university tied. the three of you had spent two hours picking out the best bottoms to match your lovers’ jerseys that covered your body, tying the perfect blue and white ribbons in your hair, and decorating yourselves with body paint. jinx, apart from the messy lines on her cheekbones, painted little blue doodles on her legs. mel simply painted jayce’s number on her cheek. you drew two pink lines under your eyes, along with vi’s name perfectly placed on the front of your thigh.

a loud whistle blew seconds before the players skated back on the ice, fans cheering and clapping as they anticipated a win for their respective team. you only cared about finding the player with the intimidating name plastered on their back: “violence”.

the game flashed before your eyes, screaming and squealing along with the girls whenever one of your companions got the puck. 6-6. 6-7. 7-7. excitement and anticipation in the atmosphere only rose as the teams skated back and forth across the ice.

the anticipation distracted you. distracted you from your conflicting feelings, vi’s curious actions, the fact that you didn’t have to be dressed like this as caitlyn nor maddie were present, the worry of this deal coming to an end, the terrible fact that you were worried, and the terrifying idea of telling her how you really felt once the game came to an end.

7-7. 7-8. 7-9. time!

the stands erupted into cheers as ekko slammed the winning shot. powder jumped up and down while you and mel laughed at the girl’s glee before cheering along with her.

“they usually take a minute, showers and all.” mel informed you as you waited for the players to exit the locker room. the two girls found a spot on a bench while you paced back and forth. it’s fine. it’s fine. does she really need to know?

“honey?”

the sweet voice startled you, prompting you to turn, the fast-moving pink haired girl still clad in her uniform filling your view. “vi?” you smiled, only taking two steps before the girl reached you. “what’s– huh?” you choked on your words as the girl wrapped a hand around your waist, the other coming up to cup your face.

“have t’ do this before the adrenaline wears off,” she muttered with determination and a haze in her eyes. before you could respond, she leaned in, lips connecting like puzzle pieces. the kiss wasn’t rough or showy like the others, it was needy and real. she kept you in a trance, minds, bodies, and mouths connected until powder’s complaints pulled you out. “jeez, breathe!”

the girl’s annoyance caused you to giggle, allowing you to feel vi’s smile against your lips before pulling back.

her face, only inches away, sent a numbing and fuzzy feeling through your brain and body. the look in her eyes as she soaked in every detail from your puffy lips to wide and love-struck orbs had you all but melting.

oh.

©silknspice

#writing ⋆˚୨୧｡#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane imagines #league of legends #vi arcane #vi #vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #vi fanfic #ekko arcane #jayce talis #arcane drabbles #arcane headcanon #jinx #mel medarda #caitlyn kiramman #arcane fanfic

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skeltnwrites · 6 months ago

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Bad Cop - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You wake to a call from your boyfriend Eddie who asks you to bail him out of jail.

Word Count: 2.2k

TW: interactions with police, mild injury, talk of fighting and bullying, sexual innuendos

A/N: I might be a little late to the Eddie Munson party but I’m here now! :D

“This is a collect call from Edward Munson at Hawkins Police Station. Will you accept the charges?”

You clear your throat but your voice still feels raw when you speak, “Yes.”

“Please hold,” the operator says.

A trilling sound as you wait, twirling the phone cord anxiously. You’d been tucked in bed a minute ago, dead to the world. The phone rang loud enough from the kitchen to startle you awake. You caught the time on the alarm clock on the nightstand as you kicked the blankets off, just after one in the morning.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft under the crackle.

“Edward.” It’s not angry per se but you never use his real name which is telling.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“Are you okay?” you sigh, tipping your head till your forehead meets the wallpaper.

“I’m sorry— I’m fine. I just, can you bail me out please.”

“What happened, Eds?”

“Just a stupid fight. Nothing serious, I promise.” He pleads like you won’t believe him and doesn’t give you a chance to press for details, “There’s cash in a shoebox on the top shelf of the closet. On my side, all the way in the back.”

You want to scold him but you're still kneading sleep from your face, irritated now that you know he’s okay. You bite your cheek, considering the possibility of an argument. Knowing that it shouldn’t take place through a phone.

“You’re sure? It’s enough?”

“Swear.”

“Okay, on my way.”

He apologizes again before the line clicks.

You shuffle through the band tees he’s grown out of and have since been neglected to the back of your shared closet. You make a mental note to remind him to drop some off at Goodwill. Under a stack of vinyls, you locate the box with a rolled wad of twenties held together by a rubber band. You snap the band, biting your lip. It’s enough to buy something expensive, really expensive. You jam your heel into a laced sneaker and do not bother to change out of your pajamas. The money is pushed deep into your pocket along with the house keys. You shake away arising questions as you start the van.

Cold air smacks your bare arms as you push open the station door. You blink rapidly at the fluorescents. An officer hands you a clipboard, you sign two dotted lines, and fork over most of the cash. He retreats to a separate room without a word, presumably to retrieve your boyfriend, leaving you alone in the lobby.

Your arms pillow your head on the counter until a familiar set of steps rounds the corner. His eyes, big and sorry, find yours instantly. But your attention quickly shifts to the marbled purple and blue highlighting the arch of his cheek. The stern speech about bar fights and bail payments you’d rehearsed on the way flees your throat. He brushes past the counter to hug you and you spot a split lip too. Your shoulders deflate as you meet him halfway.

“Thank you,” Eddie mumbles into your crown.

You give his waist a quick squeeze before pulling back. His hands chase the goosebumps from your skin as you scan his face. His curls are frizzy which is typical but more disheveled like he’s been running his hands through them. Your nail traces his lower lip where it was clearly cracked open but is now glazed over with a layer of dry blood. “Lose any teeth?”

He smiles, pearls still intact, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad. His breath smells faintly of alcohol as he says, “You look tired.”

“I am so tired,” you admit.

He grits his teeth guiltily, “I’ll make it up to you.”

An officer clears his throat and passes Eddie a brown paper bag with ‘Munson’ scribbled on the front. He snatches the bag with a wink. The man offers nothing but a blank stare, maybe mild disapproval as Eddie pivots and jogs toward you, already at the door. He fishes for his lighter from the bag, kissing and pocketing it as you step outside.

“Can I drive?” Eddie reaches for the keys in your hand. You always let him drive.

You snatch the carabiner to your chest, elbowing his side, “Are you trying to get a DUI too?”

“I had one beer,” he scoffs as you unlock the door.

You believe him but pretend not to as you hop in the driver's seat. “You’re a criminal now. Can’t be trusted!” You yell playfully before slamming the door as he jogs around the hood.

“Very funny,” he mutters as he climbs in.

You sling your arm over his seat to back out. The streetlight accentuates the bruise when you glance past him.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hmm?”

You point at your own cheek.

“Oh, no. It’s fine. Should’ve seen the other guy,” he chuckles.

“We’ll ice it when we get home,” you pull out onto the main road before settling your gaze back on him. “So who was the other guy?”

His eyes roll in your peripherals, “So Shelly Watkins was there—“

“You hit Shelly Watkins?”

“Jesus! No! Her stupid boyfriend Rob Perry.” He groans in disgust. “You remember him? He was such a dick in high school!”

You shake your head, trying to recall.

“He’s a couple of years older I think. Well anyway, Shelly was blabbing her big mouth, as usual, about Robin and her new girlfriend.”

“What was she saying?” You interrupt, curious but inferring already.

“Nasty shit. And she’s talking so loud the whole bar can probably hear. I mean, I couldn’t not say anything, babe. And hey,” he throws his hands up in surrender, “All I said was ‘Seems like what other people do in their spare time isn’t your business.’”

You smirk, knowing it was not as polite as he made it out to be.

“And Rob is all ‘What did you say?’” Eddie teasingly lowers his voice, foot hiked up in his seat to face you with a finger curled under his nose like a mustache.

You steal glances from the road to watch the theatrics as he retells the story, making sure to emphasize when he punched Rob square in the nose so hard it broke.

“Did you win?” You ask, attempting to hide your proud grin by checking your blind spot.

“Oh yeah.” Eddie crosses his arms, accidentally nicking the wound on his lip with his nail as he retracts the faux finger stache. He winces, tapping the cut to assess the damage. Fresh blood coats his finger; he’s quick to press his whole hand over his mouth as he fumbles through the glovebox with the other. A deck of fast food napkins you’d organized spills out. You catch one before it falls, crumpling it into his free hand and swerving back into your lane. He replaces his hand with the thin sheet, wiping his fingers on another napkin off the floor as you pull up to a stoplight.

He tips his head like a puppy when he catches you staring. You lick your thumb, smearing a stray drop crawling down his chin. Your palm lingers on his skin, rubbing circles behind his ear as the light flicks green.

It’s not long before you pull into the driveway and unlock the front door. Eddie holds a third napkin to his face. You consider going to the ER for stitches as you toss the keys on the counter and snatch a Ziploc bag from the cabinet.

Two lines of light form a skewed L in the hall from the cracked bathroom door; A silent message that you are allowed to come in. It squeaks familiarly loud on its hinges but Eddie doesn't acknowledge you.

He focuses on his reflection as he peels the napkin away hesitantly. The blood has stopped but his lip looks swollen and angry. You hook a finger through his belt loop, tugging him until he turns. You nudge the bag of ice to his cheek and he flinches grasping your hand to pull it away.

“‘s cold.”

You tug the hand towel off the sink and wrap the plastic, pushing it back to his cheek. You hold it there caressing his lash line with your pointer. He leans into the touch, rubbing his eyes with ringed fingers. Eddie pulls the thick silver off one by one, setting them on the counter.

“Sit,” you tell him.

He perches on the edge of the toilet lid obediently. You pick a washcloth from the drawer and run it under the sink. He parts his knees as you approach him, hands snapping into place at your hips. You cup his chin, pushing up until he tilts it toward you. Cool water cleans his lips where you brush. He doesn’t flinch, even when you accidentally dig too hard. You progress down to his jaw, where blood is smeared dry, and flaky.

“Think I’ll have a cool scar?” His breath fans your chin as you work cautiously.

“No,” you say. He toys with the strings on your pants, happy to be taken care of. “But you don’t need it. You’re cool already.”

The corners of his mouth lift fondly. He fights the urge to smile, hoping you’ll work longer if he sits still. You swipe in slow strokes, also secretly loving the time and touch.

You give his face a once over before tossing the rag to the counter. He searches your expression for a diagnosis. But words are slow to find your mouth, too enraptured with the long lashes that bat his cheeks sweetly. “I love how eager you are to stick up for the people you love,” you start.

“But?”

“But, we can’t afford you getting arrested over something like this.”

“I know,” he groans and headbutts you gently in the stomach. His hands cup the backs of your thighs and his hair drapes around his face like a curtain. You comb a handful of it over his neck and he tilts his head so you can see his eyes. “I don’t regret what I did, though. He’s always been such a bully. He deserved it, you know?” He sighs, gaze drifting away, “I felt like I could finally stand up to him after all these years.”

Your fingers trail down his shoulder to smooth out the tee riding up his back. “I don’t doubt that he deserved it. I know you just want to do the right thing. But still, he can probably afford it, we can’t.” You hesitate to ask, “Where did you get that money anyway?”

He hugs your middle, muttering into your belly, “Been saving.”

“For what?”

He shrugs and says what you believe to be, “Something special.” You are curious but lean on your trust rather than insecurity. He most likely intended to surprise you with something if you didn’t know.

“Sorry, you had to spend it.”

“Not your fault.” He peers up at you as if to ensure you know that and you brush his bangs back.

“Still, sorry.”

He blinks slowly up at you like a cat waiting for more pets. Then, he shoots up, back stiff, eyes wide. “You have work tomorrow,” he realizes out loud.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” you pull his arm until he stands. “I actually have come down with a real nasty cold,” you force a cough into your fist.

“Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, not only that but there's this criminal that won’t leave me alone. Think I might have to file a report at the station tomorrow.”

He laughs, flicking the light off as he follows you to the bedroom. The ice pack is left to melt in the sink and the stained washcloth to dry on the counter, a mess for tomorrow you’ve decided. You’re quick to crawl under the covers and he’s even quicker to shed his clothes and join you.

Eddie pecks the sliver of collarbone poking out of your shirt, making his way up in a dotted line. He presses gently to your lips, and you break away mindfully, aiming for the corner instead.

“You know?” Your eyes are closed but you feel his stare.

You hum.

“I think it’s kinda sexy when you call me a criminal.”

“Oh my God!” You throw an arm over your burning cheeks, “You are so horny.”

He laughs into your wrist but moves it aside to cradle your cheeks firmly. He pulls one eyelid open gently with his thumb when you refuse to engage. You release the smile you’ve been keeping. He mirrors it, teeth bright in the moonlight spilling in. “Think about it, I already have handcuffs so you can play bad cop and—“

You grope for a pillow to push into his face and then another when he chucks it off the bed, giggles overlapping.

“I’m going to call the police on you, have them arrest you again. Take you to horny jail.”

“Now you get it,” he releases his grip on your wrists to sit back on his heels and in a voice that is not his own he fawns, “Oh, officer! I promise to be a good boy from now on!”

You roll over, groaning wildly into your pillow. “Go to bed!”

He settles behind you, his heart races where it's thumping against your back. Yours isn’t far off. A final kiss is planted on your nape where he tickles you with his hair as he wishes you a good night.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #joeseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things

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literaryvein-reblogs · 2 days ago

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Word Alternatives: Colours

BLACK atramentous, charcoal, coal, crow, darksomeness, denigration, duskiness, ebony, funereal, jet, inkiness, melanism, melanotic, midnight, niello, obsidian, pitch, raven, sable, singe, sloe, smirch, smoke, sombrous, soot, swarthiness, swartness, tar

BLUE aquamarine, azure, berylline, cerulean, cerulescent, cyan, cyanosis, cyanotic, electric blue, ice-blue, indigo, lividity, midnight, navy, Oxford blue, pavonian, pavonine, peacock blue, robin's egg blue, royal blue, sapphire, turquoise, ultramarine

BROWN adust, auburn, beige, biscuit, braise, bay, bronze, brune, brunette, buff, burnt umber, burnt sienna, caramel, castaneous, chestnut, chocolate, cinnamon, cocoa, coffee, drab, dun, embrown, fawn, grege, hazel, henna, infuscation, khaki, mushroom, ochre, paper bag, pumpernickel, raw sienna, raw umber, roan, rubiginous, rufous, russet, rust, scorch, seal, sepia, sorrel, suntan, sunburn, tan, taupe, toast, umber, walnut

GRAY ashiness, canescence, cinereous, cineritious, dullness, ecru, fuscous, glaucescence, greige, grisaille, gunmetal, hoar, iron, lead, mousiness, oyster, pewter, slatiness, smokiness, steel, taupe

GREEN aerugo, aestival, avocado, beryl, chartreuse, chloremia, chlorophyll, chlorosis, chlorotic, emerald, foliaged, glaucescence, grass, greensickness, ivy, jade, loden green, holly, olivaceous, olive, patina, patinate, pea-green, smaragdine, springlike, verdancy, verdantness, verdigris, verdure, vernal, virescence, viridescence, viridity

ORANGE apricot, cantaloupe, carotene, carroty, ochreous, ochroid, pumpkin, saffron, tangerine, terracotta, Titian

PINK carnation, coral, coralline, flesh-pink, incarnadine, peach, primrose, roseate, rosy, salmon

PURPLE amethystine, aubergine, bruise, empurple, fuchsia, lavender, lilac, lividity, magenta, mauve, mulberry, orchid, pansy, plum, puce, purpure, purpureous, raisin, violaceous, violet

RED beet, blowzy, cardinal, carmine, carnation, carnelian, cerise, cherry, copper, crimson, damask, encrimson, erubescence, erythema, erythematous, erythrism, erythroderma, ferruginous, fire, floridity, floridness, flushing, gules, hectic, henna, incarnadine, infrared, laky, lateritious, lobster, lurid, magenta, mantling, maroon, miniate, port, puce, raddle, rose, rosiness, rouge, rubefaction, rubicundity, rubor, rubricity, ruby, ruddiness, rufescence, rufosity, russet, rust, sanguine, scarlet, stammel, vermeil, vermilion, vinaceous

YELLOW aureateness, auric, aurify, banana, begild, bilious, biliousness, cadmium, canary, chartreuse, citreous, citrine, citron, engild, fallowness, flavescent, flaxen, fulvous, gildedness, gilt, goldenness, honey, icteric, icterus, jaundice, lemon, lutescent, luteous, luteolous, mustard, ochroid, old gold, primrose yellow, saffron, sallowness, sandy, straw, sulfur, topaz, xanthism, xanthochroism, xanthoderma

WHITE achromatic, alabaster, albescent, albinic, besnow, blanch, bleach, bone, calcimine, chalk, cream, cretaceous, eggshell, etiolate, ghastly, ivory, lactescent, lily, lime, milk, pearl, sheet, swan, sheep, fleece, flour, foam, marmoreal, niveous, paper, pearl, phantom, silver, snow, driven snow, tallow, teeth, wax, wool

VARIEGATION (diversity of colors) spectrum, rainbow, iris, chameleon, leopard, jaguar, cheetah, ocelot, zebra, barber pole, candy cane, Dalmatian, firedog, peacock, butterfly, mother-of-pearl, nacre, tortoise shell, opal, kaleidoscope, stained glass, serpentine, calico cat, marble, mackerel sky, confetti, crazy quilt, patchwork quilt, shot silk, moire, watered silk, marbled paper, Joseph's coat, harlequin, tapestry; bar code, checkerboard

variegation, multicolor; parti-color; medley or mixture of colors, spectrum, rainbow of colors, riot of color; polychrome, polychromatism; dichromatism, trichromatism; dichroism, trichroism

iridescence, iridization, irisation, opalescence, nacreousness, pearliness, chatoyancy, play of colors or light; light show; moire pattern, tabby; burelé or burelage

spottiness, maculation, freckliness, speckliness, mottledness, mottlement, dappleness, dappledness, stippledness, spottedness, dottedness; fleck, speck, speckle; freckle; spot, dot, polka dot, macula, macule, blotch, splotch, patch, splash; mottle, dapple; brindle; stipple, stippling, pointillism, pointillage

check, checker, checks, checking, checkerboard, chessboard; plaid, tartan; checker-work, variegated pattern, harlequin, colors in patches, crazy-work, patchwork; parquet, parquetry, marquetry, mosaic, tesserae, tessellation; crazy-paving; hound's tooth; inlay, damascene

stripe, striping, candy-stripe, pinstripe; barber pole; streak, streaking; striation, striature, stria; striola, striga; crack, craze, crackle, reticulation; bar, band, belt, list

mottled, motley; pied, piebald, skewbald, pinto; dappled, dapple; calico; marbled; clouded; salt-and-pepper

Source: The Concise Roget's International Thesaurus, Revised & Updated (6th Edition) More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

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deadsetobsessions · 8 months ago

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Hi! Party Planner! Danny has struck again.

——

Danny clambered onto the top of the building, eyes fixed onto the dimming Gotham City sky line. Electric blue eyes froze in concentration as his targets grappled into view. he quickly scaled the last rungs of the fire escape ladder to stumble onto the roof. Danny waved his arms, and his targets, catching sight of him mere moments later, began swinging towards him. Danny adjusted his bag strap.

“Hello, concerned citizen, what do you need assistance with?”

Danny faltered. Who the fuck was wearing Batman’s cowl?

Robin (with a sword) scowled at Batman before turning his attention back to Danny.

“Uh. Right,” Danny muttered, giving ‘Batman’ the most obvious and glaring side eye he could. Regardless, if the little Robin did not protest this Batman’s presence… it was good enough for him. “I’m a party planner.”

Robin spoke before Batman could. “And what of it?”

“The… uh, League of Evil or something, wait,” Danny fumbled while opening the bag and pulling out some papers. “Ah, Legion of Doom. Them.”

Little Robin and fake-Batman perked up. Fake-Batman tensed visibly. Danny grumbled. “Anyways, they’re contacting me- by they, I mean Lex Luthor- to see if I could plan a party in… God, why are Gotham’s names for shit so depressing?”

“Get on with it.” Little Robin snapped. Danny was reminded of Dani instantly and let it slide.

“Ah, right, they want me to plan a party in “Slaughter Swamp” on the seventh of next month. So… keep an eye on that, okay?” Danny asked Robin.

“Are you supposed to be telling us this?” Fake-Batman asked.

Danny shrugged, running a hand through his hair, practiced fingers brushing aside that little white streak of hair he got from the portal.

Little Robin’s gaze snapped up to his hair.

“It’s fine. They haven’t had me sign an NDA yet.” And, well, the devil is in the details but Danny is the devil.

“I’ll handle it.” Fake-Batman promised. Danny threw him a skeptical look.

“Uh-huh. Right.” He turned back to sword Robin, who looked torn between the supposed slight towards Batman and pride at Danny’s apparent trust in his abilities. “Look, here’s the stuff I have on them- copied them- and good luck and all that.”

He handed the file and some data in a usb stick to Robin, dipping away as soon as he could. He had a party to plan, and matching Luthor’s purple-gold aesthetic to Cheeta’s yellow and black spotted material wasn’t going to get done by themselves.

——

“Even the civilians outside of Gotham could tell you’re not Batman.” Damian scoffed as he watched their party planner slip back into his apartment.

“Hey, I thought I did pretty well!”

“I do not claim to know what hallucinogens you’ve inhaled, but do not come near me. I don’t want your stupidity to catch everyone else unawares.”

“Hey!”

“Get it together, Kryptonian. We still have half the night to patrol.”

Damian swung off, mind whirling along side Kent’s little hamster wheels for a brain. He’ll have to inform father. And Timothy. Red Robin had a grudge to settle with Scarecrow and will aid in Damian’s plot to obtain sugar gliders in exchange for the information. Yes.

——

Clark, thinking his Batman acting was bad: :(

Danny, has never met Batman: this can’t be Batman, he’s being midwestern polite

——

Also, I just want to say that the Flash has Georgia State patrol energy.

#batman #danny phantom #Damian Wayne #clark Kent #tbh it could prolly be another kryptonian guy #but still #Bruce Wayne #dcxdp #dpxdc #Danny’s midwestern senses pinging

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covenofagatha · 30 days ago

Text

Nicky's mom has got it going on (Part 4)

Word count: 3700

Warnings: pool sex, fingering, vibrating underwear, almost getting caught, think that's it

A/N: guys i finally wrote it omg the day has arrived

It’s been a week since the Halloween party, a week since your best friend’s mom fucked your brains out.

You wish you could say that you regretted it, but that would be a lie.

Yet every time you hang out with Nicky, you feel your heart squeeze. It would kill him if he found out, and you knew that you would never be able to tell him.

But your thoughts still found their way back to the older woman, the way her fingers felt curling inside you, the way she tasted when she was riding your face.

You weren’t sure when the next time you were going to see her was. School is picking up as you were going into Thanksgiving break soon, and you know Nicky is feeling the stress too.

But the next Saturday, the weather is lovely and Nicky invites you over for a pool day at his house. It’s the first time the New Jersey winter has climbed into the 70s, and you’re both determined to make the most of it.

And you’ll get to see Agatha again.

The thought makes your stomach twist and turn, both with nerves and excitement.

She had dragged you back upstairs after you made that quip about your lover being just ‘alright’ to Nicky and she had put you in your place.

Three orgasms later, she had finally let you leave the room to go back downstairs to the party, but after all the guests left and her son had gone to bed, she came into the guest room so you could return the favor.

The next morning, she was gone from the bed by the time you’d woken up and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even though you obviously knew she couldn’t stay. It was risky regardless, having sex with your best friend’s mom with him right down the hall, so there was no need to push it.

And when you had gone downstairs, Nicky was already there, laughing at your disheveled state. Agatha had given you a heated glance, but that had been it.

That was the last time you’d spoken to her.

And now you’re going swimming at their house, where Agatha may or may not be there.

You hope she will, but you do know that she might be working.

Just in case, you put on one of your most flattering bikinis, a purple number that leaves little to the imagination.

It’s a dangerous game to play, especially since Nicky will be there, but you miss the older woman. And you don’t really know where things stand with her, so you figure this will be a great way to find out.

You throw a towel into a bag with some sunscreen and drive over to their house, your heart rate picking up as you get closer.

Nicky opens the door.

“Hey!” He exclaims. “Ready for the first pool day since summer?”

You step into the house, eyes peeled for his mom. “You know it. It’s been too long. I’ve missed the sun.”

No sign of her. You try your best not to feel too down; you knew her working would be a possibility. But the fresh warm air on their back patio makes you temporarily forget about the older woman and you take a deep breath.

Nicky disturbs your moment of peace by cannonballing into the pool, splashing you with water. You glare at him, pretending to be mad, before quickly stripping off your clothes and jumping in as well.

The two of you play around for what seems like forever, and you’ve missed having this much fun with your best friend. With school and work, it seems like the two of you haven’t just hung out in a while, and this was a desperately needed break from all that stress.

“Finally warm enough for a swim, hm?” You hear a voice ring out from the deck. You whirl around to see Agatha Harkness standing there, regal as ever. She makes your mouth run dry when her eyes shift to you, a brow raising ever slightly at the sight of you in the swim suit.

“Wanna join?” Nicky asks and playfully flicks water at his mom. She gasps with mock outrage and then laughs.

“Give me a second to go put on my suit. As long as y/n doesn’t mind if I hop in?” She turns her full attention to you, expectantly waiting for an answer, but your brain has short-circuited at the thought of her in a swimsuit.

“Oh, yeah, no, that would be fine,” you stammer out and she smirks knowingly. When she goes back inside, Nicky douses your face with water.

“Dude, what is going on between you and my mom?” He asks, and you choke, spiraling into a coughing fit.

You’re still struggling to breathe, but you force out: “What do you mean?” Panic grips your heart and you’re so afraid of what he’s going to say next.

“Like, you know, you’re always turning red around her and stuff. Oh my god, do you think she’s hot?” He whispers, eyes widening.

“What?” You snap, protests locked and loaded on your tongue, but he just laughs.

“You’re not the first person to think she’s a MILF. I don’t think she’s into girls though,” he says, fake sadness in his voice, and you almost choke again.

If only he knew.

She sure seemed into girls when her fingers and tongue were buried in your cunt a week ago.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you say hastily and duck underwater to hide your burning cheeks.

When you resurface for air, Agatha is standing there on the deck wearing a one-piece black suit with a low cut revealing quite an eyeful of her magnificent cleavage. You have to clench your teeth together tightly when she gives you a wink before walking down the steps into the water. She lets out an exaggerated moan, surely just to mess with you, at the feel and you have to bite back a whimper at the sound.

She gets all the way to the ground before she pauses. “Shoot, I was going to bring out some lemonade for everyone. Nicky, would you be a dear and go get it? Maybe some snacks too?”

Nicky, ever the mama’s boy, obeys without hesitation. He jumps out of the pool, grabs his towel, and hurries into the house.

Agatha immediately paces on you and you back up until your back hits the wall facing the door, feeling a spark in your stomach at the glint in her eye.

“Hey,” she whispers when she’s a hair away from you and you can’t stop from looking down at her lips.

Her hands come to grasp onto your bare waist and you gasp. “Hi,” you croak, your body already leaning into her touch that you’ve sorely missed this week. She pulls you by your hips into a kiss that you quickly pull away from (after giving in for a second or two, of course). “Nicky could come back at any minute,” you hiss and she just chuckles.

“You didn’t seem too concerned with my son catching us the other night with how loud you were moaning my name,” she teases, dropping her head down to press her lips against the chlorinated skin on your neck. You shudder at the feeling and your head drops back slightly.

The feeling in your belly stirs when she fits a thigh between your legs. “Agatha,” you whimper and slowly roll your hips against the firm muscle. Your hands come up to trace her biceps and she smirks. She presses harder and your lips part, but then she steps back and removes her leg.

“Nicky could come back at any minute,” she throws your words back in your face and you groan.

You chew on your lip and think about it. Pouring lemonade and getting snacks won’t take very long, so it would be better to be careful.

But like she said, that hasn’t stopped either of you before. So you seductively turn around, rest your arms on the deck, and tilt your head over your shoulder while you sway your ass back and forth.

She chuckles darkly and in an instant, her front is against your back and her hand dips down around your body to play with the edge of your bottoms.

“Are you sure you want to play this game, sweetheart?” She asks, voice low in your ear, and you nod eagerly. Her fingers crawl inside your suit and she finds your clit immediately, rubbing small circles around it.

Your head falls back against hers as you let out a small noise. You’ve missed her hands on you so much.

She continues her administrations, dipping a finger down every so often to collect wetness from your pussy. Even in the water, she can feel how turned on you’ve become and her teeth graze your earlobe. She keeps drawing out small gasps from your mouth with her movements and she finally has enough of her teasing and slides her middle finger into you.

“God, Agatha,” you groan, grinding your hips to get her deeper.

She tuts. “What was that?”

The words come tumbling out of your mouth. “Fuck, Mommy, please, I need more.” She gives a sound of approval and slides another finger in, curling them perfectly.

She’s panting open-mouthed against your neck, fucking her two fingers into you so well, when all of a sudden, the sliding glass door opens. Agatha and you both freeze, and your heart pounds.

“Hey, mom,” Nicky calls, walking out while reading the label on a box of crackers. Agatha gives you a quick thrust with her fingers and you bite your lip before you give yourselves away. “Do you think these are okay? The expiration date was–” He finally looks up to find his mom pressing his best friend against the pool wall. “–what are you guys doing?”

You feel like you’re going to throw up.

“Her swimsuit top was getting loose so I was just helping her tie it tighter,” Agatha says behind you, stroking your clit with her thumb, and you tense. You’re not sure you’ve breathed since Nicky walked out. Thankfully, from the way you’re angled and with how far away Nicky is standing, he can’t see Agatha’s hand down the front of your suit.

He seems to buy it though. “So crackers or no crackers?”

And you’re finally able to exhale. You can feel the tension literally seep out of your body.

But Agatha shifts forward so think about it, which forces her fingers in deeper, and you clamp your teeth down so hard on your tongue that you taste blood.

“You know, I’m getting hungrier, why don’t we make something–” But she cuts off in a gasp, because in the middle of her sentence, you clench your walls around her as payback. “For lunch?” She finishes weakly, but Nicky nods in agreement, none the wiser. “So we’ll get out and get dressed, yeah?” She asks you, and you catch her eye and give your hips a tiny roll. She gives you a warning look and the corners of your mouth tug into a smirk.

It feels good to gain a bit of leverage over her sometimes.

“Okay, sounds good, I’ll be inside whenever you weirdos decide to come in,” Nicky says, having had enough of whatever you and his mom are doing.

When the door finally closes, Agatha sinks her teeth into your shoulder and you moan loudly. “That’s for teasing,” she says and pulls her hand out of your cunt. You whine at the emptiness and turn around to face her, aching for release.

“But–” you start and she splashes you gently to shut you up.

“Maybe later. But we need to go in now before Nicky actually gets suspicious.”

You grumble, but you know she has a point, so you begrudgingly get out of the pool, Agatha behind you, and you grab your towel to dry off. As you’re looking through your tote bag that you brought, you realize something.

“Fuck, I forgot underwear,” you curse, mostly to yourself, but the older woman happens to be right next to you and hears it.

You know she’s smirking before you even look at her. “You can borrow some of mine,” she says, all sickly sweet, and you just know she’s up to something.

Once the two of you are sufficiently dry, you follow her back into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom. She had told Nicky that she was letting you borrow something and you figured it was going to just be a quick trip.

Which is unfortunate for you, because you are still dripping. You can feel the mess between your thighs with each step and it’s becoming uncomfortable.

But you’re good, and you just stand there awkwardly while Agatha roots around in her drawer, shoving aside a multitude of other pairs that you’re sure would work perfectly, until she pulls out a lacy black pair and holds them out to you.

“Put these on,” she says, grinning wolfishly, and you hesitantly reach out and take them. Just to tease, or at least maybe level the playing field for whatever she has planned, you keep eye contact while you reach behind you and untie your top.

Her jaw slackens when you finally peel the fabric from your breasts and you can see her hands twitch, like it’s painful for her to not just reach out and touch you.

And then her lips part when you start to slide your bottoms down and you can feel her eyes burning into you. When they’re around your feet, you kick them at her and she catches them in one hand, staring at them like her brain just shut off.

“Mom!” Nicky’s voice rings through the heated silence in the room and Agatha shakes out of her daze.

She fluffs her hair with her hand and throws your suit back to you. “Get dressed and come back downstairs quickly,” she orders, stripping naked and throwing on a crewneck and sweatpants, slipping something you can’t discern from the underwear drawer quickly into her pocket, before you even have a chance to ogle.

Agatha runs out of the room and you hear her footsteps on the stairs and you turn back to the underwear she gave you. It’s thick and you can tell it is some special pair, but you have no idea what it is.

So you put on your jean shorts and your t-shirt, comb through your wet hair, and go back downstairs.

Agatha is helping Nicky make grilled cheeses but they both turn around when they hear you enter the kitchen.

“There you are,” Nicky comments, while his mom gives you a wink.

You walk over to them and rest your hands on the counter, observing what they’re doing. “What can I do to help?”

And that’s when you feel it: vibrations against your clit that have you gasping and doubling over in shock and at the intensity.

Nicky rushes to your side and cries your name out, but when the rumbling suddenly stops and you’re able to lift your head, you see Agatha wearing a wicked smirk.

The underwear.

That’s why she wanted you to put them on, so she could tease you right in front of her son without actually risking being caught touching you. The thing she put in h

Fuck.

“Are you okay?” Nicky asks again, shaking your shoulders. You stand up, instinctively bracing yourself against the countertop just in case she tries to do it again.

You shoot Agatha a look before answering. “Yeah, sorry, just cramps,” you lie. To his credit, he doesn’t seem to be grossed out, he just helps you over to sit down on the couch.

“Why don’t you just rest then and let us take care of the food?” He offers sweetly and you give him a smile.

If only his mother was as nice as him.

The second Nicky walks away, the vibrations start again and you have to bite down on your finger to keep from moaning. You can feel Agatha’s eyes on you as you start to sweat from how good it feels and your face is burning.

In typical Agatha fashion, she teases you while she and Nicky finish making lunch by turning it up and then down or making it pulse against your clit. You can feel just how absolutely soaked you are and you squirm back and forth on the couch, silently begging for more.

“Do you want anything besides the sandwich?” Nicky asks you and you open your mouth to respond but have to instantly snap it shut when Agatha turns it up even more.

You take a deep breath and try to ignore the buzzing against the most sensitive part of your body. “I’m okay, thanks.” Your voice trembles from the effort of staying composed and you can see Agatha’s shoulders shaking with contained laughter.

Nicky brings over two plates and sets one down in front of you. He sits in the chair adjacent to the couch while Agatha plops down next to you.

“You doing okay, hon?” She asks, reaching over to pat your leg and her touch makes you clench around nothing. You dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from grabbing her hand and shoving it down your shorts.

The teasing is maddening.

“Yeah, good,” you rasp, glaring at her while simultaneously pleading with your eyes to be let out of your misery.

It’s like she knows exactly when you’re about to cum because she either stops the vibrations entirely or slows them down to where you can barely feel anything at all.

You try to focus on eating the grilled cheese, but you can’t stop your hips from undulating, no matter how hard you try. It gets so bad that Agatha throws a blanket over you, muttering something about how cold you look so Nicky doesn’t question it.

With the extra privacy, you’re free to shift your weight more to angle the vibrations better against your clit. You can feel the rumbles throughout your entire pussy and you can feel your mind slowly losing the ability to think.

You set down your plate, maybe three bites taken out of the food, and toss the other half of the blanket over Agatha’s legs. Thankfully, Nicky is flipping through the TV channels so he doesn’t notice.

Agatha watches your face carefully when your hand digs into her thigh through her pants as she turns up the intensity, watching every little twitch of your eyebrows as you try to keep it together.

And then, she suddenly reaches over under the blanket to cup your pussy and press the crotch of the panties against you hard, and a moan tears its way out of your throat. You have to fake a cough to cover it up, but luckily Nicky doesn’t look over.

Her hand is gone as soon as it appeared and you’re left rhythmlessly stuttering your hips, frantically chasing the high you so desperately need.

But it doesn’t come.

Agatha keeps you on edge for almost twenty minutes, turning it up and down and off completely and then back on, and you’re practically panting into the blanket because you can’t breathe too loudly.

It’s the sweetest torture one could bear.

And then finally, finally, Nicky stands up and announces that he has to go to the bathroom.

The moment he leaves the room, you literally throw yourself into Agatha’s lap, straddling her waist and grinding against her, each movement against her stomach pressing the toy in the underwear harder to your clit.

“Agatha, Mommy, please,” you gasp against her lips and her fingers make their way down into your shorts. Instead of dipping into the underwear though, they go in-between them and your jeans so she can directly position the piece right where she wants it.

Her other finger fumbles with something in her pocket, the remote, you’re guessing, and you sink your teeth into her neck before the high-pitched whine can escape at the heightened intensity.

“Better hurry up,” she taunts and you buck your hips at her tone. “You don’t want my son coming back in to find you cumming all over his mommy, do you?”

You shake your head at the rhetorical question and focus on how the vibrations feel against you. You can feel them throughout your whole body and you’re getting so close.

“Please, please, I need more,” you beg, having been kept on the edge for so long that you don’t think you can cum from just this.

But Agatha always knows what you need, even after only spending one night with you.

She pushes the underwear to the side to slide three fingers into you easily, curves them just right, and that coupled with the vibration still against your clit makes you explode.

You bite her again to muffle your cries while you grind, dragging your orgasm out as much as you can.

And then the toilet flushes and you hear the sink running. By the time it turns off, you’ve wiped your sweaty forehead and are sitting back in your normal spot, readjusting the blanket.

Nicky walks back in just as Agatha pops her fingers into her mouth, sucking the taste of you off. Your body clenches weakly at the sight of that and of course she sees it and smirks.

“Everything okay in here? Thought I heard something,” Nicky asks. You keep your eyes peeled on the TV even though you can see Agatha’s smile out of the corner of your eye.

“Just the show,” she says casually and Nicky accepts it, settling back down in the chair.

Agatha leans closer and chuckles quietly into your ear. “Next time, you need to make less noise.”

And it’s impossible to miss the way your body shivers at the promise of a next time.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along

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alltheirdamn · 3 months ago

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Diamond Dolls | Joel x stripper!f!reader

Chapter I : Diamond Dolls Club

Series Summary: Running from the past led you straight into the arms of club owner, Joel Miller. He’s quiet, respectful, and devastatingly handsome. He’s nothing like any man you’ve come across, and it’s so hard to keep your heart guarded when he’s tearing down the walls. Chapter Summary: After fleeing Miami, you find yourself a spot at Diamond Dolls, and meet Joel Miller. The man who can change everything. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 7.2k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, Joel is in his early 40s reader is in her mid-20s, mentions of alcohol, strip club setting, nudity, sexual tension, mutual pining, eventual smut, explicit language… more tags will be added as the story goes A/N: Well, a very belated hello to everyone! I've been in the darkest recesses of a writers block, and had to drag myself to the surface to finally finish this one out. It's a slow start, but it's something nonetheless. Anyway, love you all lots and i hope you stick around for this lil story <3 xoxo

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

One week ago

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. You were holed up in the bathroom of a shady hotel, listening to the sound of pleasured moans coming from the bedroom. Your friend, Diana, had been going at it with some stranger for the last half hour, and you were scared. Private parties were typical for the dancers. In fact, Richie loved it. He loved being the type of owner who showcased all his dancers in whatever way he pleased. But you knew something was off when you stepped out of the black Escalade and into the hotel lobby. This type of party differed from the rest; you had this nagging feeling it would all go wrong.

And it did.

The sound of heels rattling inside your bag drifted through the empty parking lot as you neared your last resort. Diamond Dolls. Your gas tank—and lack of money—only got you as far as Austin, Texas. It wasn’t an ideal place to end up, but beggars can’t be choosers, so it would have to suffice.

It was early afternoon, no doubt the slowest time of day since only a handful of cars were parked in the lot aside from yours. With the sun still shining, the neon pink lights of the sign above the door were turned off, but it still looked inviting. Diamond Dolls was already far different than your club back in Miami; it was different in a good way.

At least, you hoped it was.

Cracking open the front door, you shuffled your bag over your shoulder and took a deep breath. This was your only shot at putting your life back on track, and you prayed you’d be given the chance to set things right. You couldn’t go back to Miami. Not now…not ever. The bridges you burnt could never be rebuilt; running away would only take you so far.

A few patrons turned their heads your way when the sun streamed through the hazy club, no doubt an annoying reminder that the world still existed outside this tiny place. The entire club was drenched in low neon blacklights, the purple and pink hues painting the shadows in a sultry ambiance. Above you, diamond chandeliers hung from the ceiling, twinkling lights refracting off the gems that clung to the metal branches curving upward. The black leather couches around the stage were shiny and clean, another sign that this club was far better than where you came from.

High-top tables scattered the open areas in the club's corner, tiny tea lights flickering on their marbled counters. Everything was meticulously detailed, as if whoever owned it had put all their effort into making this space unique and beautiful.

Across the back was the bar; the counter stretched from end to end with an array of liquors stacked on glass shelves that hung from the wall. Behind the counter was a lone bartender busying himself with cleaning glasses.

Perfect, you thought. This was your opportunity.

“Hey,” you cautioned, walking up to the black countertop. “I was wondering if you guys are taking in any new dancers.”

“Can’t say for sure,” the bartender shrugged.

He had a snug black top stretched across his chest and dirty blonde hair that stuck back along his scalp with too much gel. A few tattoos marked up his forearms, disappearing under the cuffs of his shirt and reappearing along the column of his neck. Instinctively, you knew he was well paid by any female clients who came into the club late at night. A few drinks and maybe a few flirtatious conversations made him a wealthy man by the end of his shifts.

“Who should I be asking then?” You questioned, tapping your nails along the edge of the counter.

The bartender glared at your nails as they tapped repeatedly on the counter. You retracted your hand with an apologetic look, letting your arm hang heavy at your side. He bristled at your presence, obviously unamused by your friendly antics. Charm wouldn’t work here…noted.

“Joel’s up in his office. Why don’t y’go bother him.”

“Joel…” You echoed.

“The owner?” He cocked a brow, almost annoyed that you didn’t know who Joel was.

Obviously, you didn’t fucking know.

“Gotcha,” you nodded.

The bartender slung the drying rag over his shoulder, retiring the glass he had been cleaning to the other stack of dishes. He pointed down the hall near the stage toward the black-painted door to the right.

“You’ll find him in there,” he said.

You muttered a quick thank you before walking down the hall and past wandering eyes. Smoothing down your hair, you inhaled sharply before rapping your knuckles against the door.

“Come in!” A deep voice called out.

You timidly turned the doorknob, peeking your head around the door with a sheepish smile. An older man, probably no more than forty, leaned back in a leather chair. He had on a simple black button-up, the sleeves rolled up his tan arms, exposing the muscles and veins that spidered from his fingers to his biceps. You lifted your eyes to his face, brown scruff covering his jaw, small patches of gray threading through the wiry hair. His plush lips curved into a slight grin, his bottom one plush and pouty—a very dangerous thing to see when you realized he could potentially be your new boss.

“How can I help you?” He asked, clearing his throat.

Your eyes shot up to his, immediately pulled under the dark brown waves that swam through his irises. You expected the club owner to be less appealing, maybe even a bit sleazy, given your track record of who you’ve met in the business. You didn’t expect him to be this attractive.

You stepped over the threshold, unsure if you should shut the door behind you. You didn’t know Joel, nor could you trust him to be different from the other men you had encountered over the years. Despite your weariness, he motioned for you to shut the door and extended a hand toward the chair in front of his desk.

“I was, um, wondering if you were taking any new dancers?”

You didn’t mean to word it like a question, but your uncertainty got the best of you.

“Might be. Y’from here?” Joel asked, his southern drawl thick with each syllable.

You slid down into the chair, letting your bag drop to the ground by your feet. Joel tracked your movements, watching you squirm under his heavy stare while he waited for your response.

“Miami, actually. Just drove in this morning.”

“What brings ya’ to the Lone Star State?” He asked, a grin teasing the corners of his mouth.

“Family,” you lied a little too quickly.

Everything about being a dancer was a lie, and you weren’t about to change your ways for some owner you didn’t know. Joel stretched his arms over his head, his biceps flexing as he interlocked his fingers behind his neck. It should be a crime for someone to be this handsome; clearly, he knew what you were thinking because his lips twitched with an amused grin.

“Y’got experience in a club?”

“Yep,” you nodded. “Worked at my last one for three years.”

Joel’s eyes raked over you, lingering on your glossy lips and finally trailing back up to your eyes. Your skin flushed under his stare, your ears burning the longer he drank you in with slow, deliberate passes over your body as you crossed and uncrossed your legs behind the shield of his wooden desk.

“I’m assuming you’ll want to see me dance,” you said, filling the dead air between you.

“Not necessary.”

You stared at your hands in your lap, crestfallen. This had been your last resort, and you were down on your luck now. You barely had a hundred dollars in cash left in your wallet, and you told yourself it was for emergencies only. You weren’t even sure it was enough to cover more than a night's stay in a motel somewhere in town. There wasn’t anyone you could call. There was nowhere else to go.

A soft creak of his chair stirred you from your swirling thoughts, and you looked up to see Joel bracing his elbows on the desk. He was so much closer now, his age materializing into something softer as he studied you. Worry lines creased his forehead, smoothing out around his temples where his brown hair curled behind his ears. Even if this meeting was all for nothing, at least you got to enjoy a small glimmer of hope dressed as a beautiful Southern gentleman. You reached for your bag, ready to beeline it out the door and back to your car before you could make any more of a fool of yourself.

“I don’t need an audition, sweetheart,” he said softly.

You blinked up at him, both confused and hurt. He didn’t need to kick you while you were already down; he made it very clear you weren’t getting a spot in the club. You lifted your bag into your lap, shoving the chair back hard enough to make the legs scrape against the floor.

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet me. Have a good day.”

The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth, and they didn’t sound much better either, but you didn’t care. There was nothing for you here, and you needed to search for a place to stay before the day slipped away. Clinging to whatever dignity—and hope—you had left, you turned for the door without another glance over your shoulder.

“Wait.”

Joel’s voice radiated through the room as your hand hovered over the door handle. You half-considered dismissing him and continuing with your hopeless day, but a nagging voice inside your head told you to stay. Steeling your emotions, you turned to him with your arms folded over your chest.

“Come back at nine. You’ll be on stage tonight,” he offered, rising from his seat.

“What?” You balked. “You just told me you didn’t want to see me audition.”

Joel shoved his hands in the front pockets of his dress pants, his shoulders lifting slightly with a shrug. You waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and shove you out the door. But there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his tone nor a look of deception in his soft eyes.

“I never ask my girls to audition,” he explained.

“Why? What if I’m bullshitting you?”

“I’ll find out if you are, but I got a feelin’ you won’t let me down.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Well, thank you. I’ll see you tonight.”

Joel dipped his head toward you, his lips curving at the corners under his thick mustache. You were in deep shit, knowing you’d get to see that warm smile every day. With nothing left to say, you muttered another thank you and opened the door, disappearing into the hallway before he could retract his offer.

An upbeat tempo thrummed through the air as you passed by the stage, and you took a quick peek at the girl spinning on the pole, her blonde hair falling in a cascade of curls down her bare spine. The handful of patrons you had spotted coming into the club were now crowded around the stage, enthralled in her body as she moved to the rhythm of the music. Crisp dollar bills scattered the glass stage, falling at her feet as she lowered herself onto her knees. Your steps faltered as her eyes connected with yours, a friendly smile ghosting over her face before she returned to her routine. Digging through your bag, you reached for your wallet and dished out a couple of bills to toss onto the stage. It wasn’t much, and you knew better than to lessen your savings, but it was enough to show your respect for her hustle. She understood this life as much as you did.

You spent the better part of the afternoon driving around the city, familiarizing yourself with the sidestreets and small shops you would come to frequent. There hadn’t been much luck finding a place to stay for the night, but you hoped you’d have enough money after your shift to afford a room, at least for the weekend. You were more than ready to sleep anywhere that wasn’t your car and even more ready to have cash in your pockets again.

Anxious to start your first shift, you circled back to the club much earlier than Joel had asked. The sun was barely kissing the horizon as you put your car in park, the neon lights above the building flickering to life as the night swallowed the sky. You were two hours too early, but you didn’t want to wait any longer. You wanted to be on the stage now.

Searching through the bags of your belongings stuffed in the trunk of your car, you found your pile of club outfits and began piecing together different options to wear for the evenings. You laid out a matching pink lingerie set, the bra entirely rhinestoned in refractive colored jewels. It had done numbers on stage, a perfect outfit for making first impressions. You scoured for one more set—a just-in-case outfit—and found a thin, black lace teddy at the bottom of the pile. You could pair it with your taller heels and use it as your outfit for your second dance on stage. If you got that far. Everything else looked unappealing, but you’d have time and money to shop during the weekend for new clothes. New everything, if you were being honest. You were starting from the ground up in Austin.

As you tucked your clothes in your bag, you heard the sound of car keys jingling behind you. It was instinct to tense up at any noise in a parking lot, and your defenses were always up to foreign noises. Spinning quickly toward the sound, you came face to face with the same blonde you had seen on stage earlier in the day.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you!” She apologized.

“No, it’s okay,” you assured her, releasing a shaky breath.

She was wearing an oversized shirt and gym shorts, her feet stuffed in a pair of fuzzy blue slippers. With her hair pinned up and most of her makeup wiped off, you knew her shift was over.

“You must be the new girl Joel told us about. I’m Monica.”

She extended a hand toward you, and you quickly introduced yourself.

“Sorry, I probably look like a mess. I just got in today.”

Monica looked over your shoulder into the trunk of your car, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the mess. Everything left of your life was stuffed into only a few bags; it was embarrassing, to say the least.

“Do you have family in town you’re staying with?” She asked.

“I do,” you lied. “I just haven’t had time to stop by yet and drop my things off.”

Monica looked between you and your car, skepticism crossing over her features. Dancers were great at lying but even better at discovering one. She saw through you in less than a minute.

“Let me give you my number,” she offered, pulling her phone from her purse. “When you’re done for the night, just call me. I’ve got an extra room you can crash in for a couple of nights if you need it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. That’s, um, that’s way too kind of you,” you stammered.

She bristled at your words, shoving her phone in your hands to exchange numbers. You typed with shaking hands, the numbers mixing up as you deleted and retyped repeatedly. Handing the phone back to her, you waited for a text to ping through the air, and it did.

You made your first friend in the new town and only hoped things wouldn’t end like they did in Miami.

“There’s plenty of girls still here for the night,” she started. “They’ll set you up in the dressing room and make sure you’re taken care of tonight. If anyone gives you hell, just tell them Monica’s looking out for you, and I’ll set them straight.”

You laughed softly at her gentle threat. You weren’t expecting such hospitality so quickly, but it was refreshing to know someone cared about you. After a few more minutes of casual conversation, she parted ways for the evening, and you were left standing in front of the neon lights beckoning you inside.

Showtime.

The crowd inside the club had doubled since you had left earlier in the afternoon; the couches and bar tops were littered with groups of men and women all drinking high-priced drinks and shadowed in plumes of smoke. Three bartenders worked behind the counter, their routine flowing together as they worked in tandem, taking orders and making drinks.

As you walked down the hallway by the stage, you noticed Joel’s door shut to the club. It confused you since the club was ramping up for the night; owners were usually out mingling with customers and dancers. You considered knocking on the door and thanking him again, but the thought passed just as quickly as it came, and you found your way to the dressing room.

The room's bright lights were stark in contrast to the rest of the club, and you had to squint your eyes to adjust to the sudden change. Only two girls occupied the room, working on their hair in front of the vanity. The second you entered their eyesight, they turned with wide grins.

“You’re the new girl!” One squealed, her brown curls bouncing around her shoulders as she ran up to you.

She quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, her heavy vanilla perfume floating around her body and onto yours.

“I’m Heather,” she said, pulling away. “And that’s Carolina.”

She gestured back to the other brunette, who gave you a shy wave. She was shorter than Heather, her hair cut into a sharp bob and streaked with caramel highlights. You waved back, introducing yourself to them both. Heather bounced back to the vanity, moving her array of makeup to the side to make room for your things.

“There are open lockers to the side over there, so feel free to stash away anything you need,” she explained. “If you need a curling iron or hairspray, you can always grab mine. And Carolina has extra body glitter, too, but I’m guessing you have your own.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some in my bag, but thank you. You guys are really sweet.”

You sat next to Carolina, dumping your makeup bag on the counter. Carolina worked at fixing her black nipple pasties, both of them on display under her sheer red bra. Her curves filled out her mini-skirt, the red material matching both her bra and Pleaser heels. She was fiery; you liked that.

“Joel said you’re from Miami,” Heather started. “This has got to be way less exciting than your old club, huh?”

You tensed up at her question, deciding on what to divulge. Heather and Carolina were sweet, but they were still strangers, and after last week…your guard was higher than ever. Pulling out your foundation and eyeshadow, you quickly started your makeup routine, dodging any invasive questions they tried to ask.

“How long have you both been working here?” You asked, flipping the focus onto them.

Heather fluffed her hair in the mirror, adjusting her purple halter top over her breasts before turning back to you.

“I’ve been here since Joel opened the club, so almost five years,” she stated.

“And I’ve been here for a little over a year,” Carolina said beside you.

“How is Joel?” You asked. “As an owner.”

Heather and Carolina let out a little giggle, clearly something private between them that went unsaid in response to your question.

“We like to say he’s like a recluse,” Carolina explained. “He hardly ever comes around during business hours. He just stays quiet and tucked away in his office. We pay him house fees at the end of our shift, and he leaves us alone.”

That piqued your interest. How could a club owner be so hands-off? Or maybe this was normal, and everything you had experienced in Miami was incredibly unprofessional. It was unprofessional, but you only assumed parts of it were like having your boss pimp you and other girls out for drugs and money.

“Isn’t that weird, though? I mean, most club owners don’t do that. They’re usually—.”

“Creepy and a bit unsettling?” Heather offered.

You nodded slowly, focusing on yourself in the mirror as you lined your lips with a pink lip liner.

“Joel isn’t like that, I promise you. He’s probably the most respectful man I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t even think he’s seen our tits,” Carolina giggled. “I can’t even tell you the last time I saw him outside his office during a shift.”

You shuffled off the vanity chair, returning to your bag to pull out your first outfit. As you peeled your shirt off, you mused over their casual information on Joel. You couldn’t make sense of it; how was Joel real? He must be too good to be true. He had to be.

“But how does he know what’s going on around here?” You pressed.

“His brother, Tommy, comes around, checks in on us, and reports to Joel if there’s anything worth knowing,” Heather shrugged.

“That’s it?”

“Yep!” Both of them said in unison.

Carolina strolled to one of the lockers behind you, retrieving a red garter from her back to tie around her ankle. You eyed her as she tightened the straps of her heels and adjusted her bra one last time. As she flounced to the door, she looked over her shoulder and gave you a slight wink.

“You’ll be just fine here, doll. I promise.”

The moment your heels clicked against the glass floor of the stage, everything in your mind turned off. You gave the DJ— Bradley, call me Brad, doll— your music of choice before stepping onto the stage: a slow, sensual track that made the crowd turn their heads in curiosity. Until then, Heather and Carolina had taken turns onstage doing routines to high-tempo songs, keeping the crowd engaged and rowdy. But that wasn’t your forte.

You started things slowly, wrapping your hand around the pole and teasing the crowd with meticulous movements of your body that swayed to the beat of the music. Your fingers teased the outline of your breasts, cupping them seductively as you made eye contact with a few men sitting near the edge of the stage. Their undivided attention on your body was exhilarating; the promise of money dropping at your feet was enough to keep you going. Hooking your leg around the pool, you pulled yourself up, spinning in gentle turns as you flowed with the music. Everything you did was unrushed, and you took your time commanding the stage.

Eventually, the tips started piling up on the stage. More clients drew closer, their eyes hungry and watchful. You slid onto your knees, crawling toward a younger man who hovered by the side of the stage, his button-up shirt disheveled and wrinkled—no doubt from a private dance he paid for only an hour ago. You graced him with an inviting smile, swaying your ass back and forth behind you.

“Hi, beautiful,” he crooned, his voice barely audible above the thrum of the music.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you replied.

You knew how to bait them and make them chase after you. The thrill of it all was intoxicating, like the world was a blur around you, and all that existed was just the stage, the money, and your ability to make men crumble at your feet. Dragging yourself onto your knees, you coasted a hand down your abdomen, grinning as he tracked your fingers as they dipped over your navel. The money roll in his hand caught your attention, but you refrained from staring too long. Eye contact was crucial—if you kept him reeled in, the money would come to you.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” You asked, breathless.

“More than you know.”

He curled a finger, beckoning you closer. You didn’t like when clients reached for you, but you saw the crisp fifty-dollar bill hiding in his palm. Like a moth to a flame, you drew closer to the edge of the stage, letting his fingers work at the waistband of your thong. He didn’t prod or explore; his touch was respectful and gentle. Blowing him a kiss, you tucked the money under the thin fabric before returning to the center of the stage to finish your set.

The music drifted to an end, the applause from the crowd around the stage rippling above the sound as the DJ returned to his playlist of choice. You gathered the tips off the stage floor, stuffing them into your moneybag as you left your set.

For some strange reason, you were disappointed to see Joel’s office door shut off to the club despite Heather and Carolina’s words. You understood he didn’t come out during business hours, but part of you wished he had watched your first routine. Wasn’t he curious? And why did you care to have him watch you perform? It wasn’t like you were trying to impress him…Okay, maybe you were…

Passing the DJ booth, Brad gave you a proud smile and a small congratulations. You hurried back into the dressing room, frantic to change into your next outfit. Heather lounged along the benches in front of the locker, her nails tapping against her phone screen as she typed furiously.

“Ugh!” She exhaled. “Men suck.”

You giggled as you plopped beside her, enjoying the simple camaraderie of being in another sisterhood with other dancers. You missed your girls in Miami, but that wouldn’t stop you from making new friends. And from what you’d already experienced in your short few hours at Diamond Dolls, these girls were genuine and caring.

“Who’s the guy?” You asked.

“His name is Michael. We’ve been seeing each other on and off the past year, and he’s just… I don’t know. I feel like I give all my time and energy and get nothing in return. You know what I mean?”

“I do.”

You knew it too well. You had never been lucky in relationships; they were messy, and it was hard to come across a man who truly understood your field of work. Some of them loved the idea of having someone overly sexualized and, in their words, slutty. They considered every stripper to be the stereotypical version of a woman, all glitz and glam and naked on display. You were more than that, but none stuck around long enough to find out.

“Can I give you some advice?” You offered.

Heather stopped her typing, giving you her full attention.

“Men don’t deserve shit. If he’s not going to give his time and dedication to you, then he doesn’t deserve an ounce of your respect. You’re worth more than that. You deserve someone who will treat you like a queen.”

“Those types of men don’t exist,” she laughed. “They’re all sleazy and just want their dick wet.”

“I don’t know. I think there could be some good ones out there.”

Unwanted images of Joel flashed through your mind. There was no way you actually were thinking of him in this setting. You knew nothing about him or the type of man he was, so you couldn’t let your mind wander to the thought of him as a love interest, nor did you want that. He was a stranger and your boss.

“Well, if you find one, send him my way.”

“Absolutely,” you smiled.

As you both sat in comfortable silence, you worked at sorting through your wad of cash from your set. Smoothing out the bills and organizing them, you counted out over two hundred dollars. Not the best for your first routine in the club, but it was more than you had walked in with. And it was enough to hopefully find a place to stay over the weekend. However, Monica’s offer still remained in the back of your head.

It was well past three AM when you decided to call it quits for the night. After two more sets on stage, you collected another four hundred dollars, leaving you satisfied for your first shift. Clients were generous, and the atmosphere inside the club was intoxicating. You wanted more, but you wouldn’t be greedy. Not yet, at least.

After peeling off your clothes and replacing them with the sweats you had walked in with, you said your goodbyes to the girls and made your way to Joel’s office. A flight of butterflies swarmed in your stomach as your hand wavered over the door. Why did he make you so nervous? You were never nervous around men; you were usually quite the opposite. But Joel…You couldn’t get a read on him. You didn’t know what to expect, which made it so much worse.

“Hi,” you said quietly, softly cracking the door open.

You peered into the office, spotting Joel hunched over the desk, rifling through some papers. He glanced up quickly, his eyes shifting back down to the papers…Then, immediately right back up to you. You didn’t miss how his gaze drifted down your body, the hunger flickering to life behind his irises. You were in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but you might as well have been naked with the way he undressed you with his heavy stare.

Your name fell softly from his lips, his mouth curving up in that same grin you melted over earlier.

“Heard you were the star of the show tonight,” he smiled.

“I don’t know about that,” you laughed.

Sliding into the office, you shut the door behind you, leaving only a few feet of space between you and Joel’s large frame. Somehow, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his gravity pulling you forward.

“No need to be modest, sweetheart. Everyone was talkin’ ‘bout you out there.”

“How do you know that? The girls told me you stay in here all night.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. He wore that snug black button-up, and the soft material still deliciously clung to his muscles. His biceps flexed under the shirt, and you trained your eyes on him to keep the temptation of looking at bay.

“Don’t worry, I hear everythin’ inside this club. Got eyes and ears everywhere.”

“How’d you get into the business?”

“That’s a story for another time, sweetheart. It’s late, and I’m sure y’wanna get home,” he chuckled.

A mystery. That's what Joel was: an absolute mystery. You couldn’t dig under his walls, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let him dig under yours. If he kept his life close to his chest, then you’d do the same.

“What’s your price for house fees?” You asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Flat rate of twenty dollars. You can tip out the bartenders and Brad if y’want, but I pay them well enough that y’don’t have to worry ‘bout it.”

“Twenty?” You gaped.

His brows furrowed together, trying to understand your shock. You pulled a twenty from your money bag and walked toward his desk to slide it to him.

“They charge you less in Miami?” He questioned, reluctant to take the money.

“No, it’s not that. They charged a lot more…Like over a hundred some nights.”

It was Joel’s turn to stare at you dumbfounded; his lips parted in confusion. Wasn’t it normal for house fees to be that high? Or had you been lied to all these years?

“You’re fuckin’ with me, right?”

“I swear I’m not. That’s what the club owner charged us down there.”

Joel ran a hand down his face, his eyes squeezing shut. You swayed awkwardly, your fingers digging into the material of your money bag.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized. “Didn’t mean to cuss at you like that. Just surprised me, that’s all.”

“It’s okay,” you replied quietly.

“M’gonna take real good care of you here, ‘kay?”

His words shouldn’t have affected you, but heat crawled up your neck as you tossed his words over inside your head. Once again, Joel was proving to be far different than what you were used to back in Miami, but you wouldn’t let yourself overthink it.

“Thank you, Joel. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t gotta thank me none, sweetheart. Y’get home safe. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you.”

You cringed at the statement, another reminder of the web of lies you were already weaving. You’d tell him the truth eventually, or maybe not at all. You wouldn’t jeopardize your chance at a new life here.

Joel’s eyes did one final pass over your body, and your anxiety nearly drove you right into the door when you turned to leave. He needed to stop looking at you like that. You didn’t need any more fuel to the fire burning inside your stomach.

You spent far too long hovering your finger over Monica’s contact information, debating whether or not to take up her offer of a place to stay. You had enough money for a hotel room, but the idea of saving it and tucking it away sounded more appealing. You didn’t know Monica— or any of these girls— but her willingness to help you earlier proved how loyal these dancers were to one another.

Dialing her number, you tapped your fingers against your steering wheel, watching through your dirty windshield as patrons filed out for the night. You wondered which of these cars belonged to Joel and promptly stopped yourself from wondering about anything else. Why was every thought beginning and ending with him?

“Hello?”

“Hi, uh… Monica?” You reintroduced yourself, stumbling over your words like it was your first time speaking.

“Look who made it out alive in her first shift!” She said cheerily. “I’ll shoot you my address, and you can drive over. I’ve already got the guest bedroom set up for you.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to intrude on you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! You’re not intruding at all, honey. I’ve got the house to myself this weekend and could use the company.”

“I really appreciate it, Monica. Thank you.”

The city was nothing like Miami at night; the streets were empty, and the air was silent and calm. You kept the volume low on the radio as you drove to Monica’s house, enjoying the sound of the breeze as it drifted through the crack in your window. You focused on learning the street names as you passed every intersection, replacing the thoughts of Joel’s warm smile with things that would prove to be more important to you. But the memory of his eyes and smile still lurked in your mind, and no matter how many green lights you sped through, you couldn’t escape it.

Monica’s home was tucked away in a residential neighborhood nearly half an hour outside the city, her tiny home the only one with a porch light still flickering under the dark sky.

You barely opened your trunk when you heard Monica’s voice trailing down the driveway.

“Hi!” She squealed.

You turned to find her bounding down the pavement barefoot, her blonde hair tousled into a high ponytail and her pajamas hugging her curves. Setting your bag on the ground, you emptied your arms to welcome her into a hug, which should have felt awkward given you had hardly known her less than a full day, but with Monica…It felt normal.

“Thank you again,” you exhaled, your body slumping into her tight embrace.

“Oh, don’t even mention it. My ex has the kids this weekend, so the place is extra lonely.”

“You’ve got kids?” You asked.

It wasn’t an accusatory question; you had danced alongside several women who were single moms supporting their children. Not to mention, Monica looked way too young to have kids, let alone more than one.

“I’ve got two,” she explained with a tired smile. “Twins, actually. Jackson and Luke. They just turned three in June.”

You shuffled your overnight bag over your arm while Monica led the way to the front door. The moment she opened the door, you were welcomed into a very lived-in home. Kid's toys littered the ground, while mismatched socks and shoes lay around in other spots. You smiled to yourself, seeing such a cozy place; you missed being in a home. Living in shady apartments and hotels left you bitter and yearning for somewhere to call home.

“Sorry it’s such a mess,” she laughed absentmindedly. “The boys tend to destroy any clean area in the house.”

“You don’t have to apologize at all. I love it.”

She glanced back at you, quirking an eyebrow at your statement. It was true; you did love it. And you loved being welcomed into a home without feeling like a total burden. Monica gave you a small tour of the house before guiding you down the hall to the guest room. It was set up with a queen-sized bed and a small vanity in the corner—perfect for a night or two to get you back on your feet.

Once settled in, you returned to the living room, where Monica was lying on the couch.

“Thank you so much again,” you said, collapsing into the cushions.

“Of course, girl. I tend to be the motherly one out of the group, so if you ever need anything, you can always come to me. How was the first night?”

You stretched your legs out along the sectional, burrowing further into the pillows as you let your body unwind. Monica mimicked your movements, curling up under the small blanket draped over her body.

“I didn’t know what to expect,” you admitted. “Being in a new club is always scary, you know? But everyone has been so welcoming, and the customers are great. And Joel is…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Joel is what?” Monica pressed, giggling slightly.

“He’s amazing. I’ve never met a club owner like him. He really cares about all of you girls, and it shows. I’m not used to that.”

“You had it bad out there in Miami, huh?”

You shifted slightly, trying to mask your unease with the question. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Monica; she hadn’t given you a reason yet not to, but the question was too fresh to answer. Glimpses of that night suspended themselves in your head, moments you couldn’t shake and only hoped you’d never have to relive. Everything you saw… everything you did… you wanted to forget.

“Is it alright if we don’t talk about it?” You asked, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap.

“Of course, honey,” Monica said softly. “Whatever happened out there, just know it’s in the past, and you’re okay now. You’re safe here with me. I’ll take care of you, and so will Joel.”

Joel.

Everything kept circling back to him. He was an enigma dressed in all black with a warm smile and a country twang. You were used to men being nice; they almost always had an ulterior motive for their kindness, but not Joel. His kindness wasn’t self-fulfilling, as far as you knew, and you could see how serious he was about the safety of everyone in the club. Maybe things would turn out differently here; maybe things would be okay.

The early morning sunlight slowly began to seep through the living room curtains as you and Monica fell into endless conversation. Eventually, she mumbled something about needing a few hours of sleep before needing to run errands, and you took it as your sign to retire to bed. As you settled under the covers, you forced your mind away from the wandering thoughts of Miami. It was easy to forget everything that had transpired in the hotel room when you kept yourself busy, but in the silence, there was nowhere to run from the memories.

“Alright, which one of you are we fucking first?” One of the guys asked.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, undoing his belt, as he asked the question. Your stomach rolled with nausea as the realization hit you; Richie had pimped you out. This wasn’t a party; this was a setup. You swayed in the corner of the room, eyeing the door to figure out how to escape without being snatched up by one of the men. But there were too many of them and just the three of you to try and fend for yourselves. What did it matter, though, when your two closest friends were already drugged out of their minds?

You couldn’t have slept more than one or two hours. The sun was too bright inside the bedroom, and your body was coated in a thin sweat as you jolted from the bed. You were safe. You were in Texas. You were at Monica’s house. You repeated those reminders as you rolled out of bed and entered the guest bathroom. The reflection in the mirror felt like a stranger; your eyes puffy and your face pale.

“You’re okay,” you whispered to yourself.

Splashing cold water on your face, you took a few minutes to gather your bearings. The days spent on the road running from Miami were catching up to you, and so was the anxiety that you had kept at bay.

“Hey!” Monica called from somewhere down the hall.

You braced yourself against the bathroom sink, swallowing the startled gasp that threatened to bubble out of your mouth.

“I’m headin’ out to the grocery, so if you want me to grab anything for you, just shoot me a text! I left breakfast on the kitchen counter for whenever you’re hungry,” she continued.

“T–Thank you!” You stuttered.

Dammit, you were okay.

You waited until you heard the sound of the front door closing before emerging from the bathroom. In your slim hours of sleep, Monica had cleaned up the house from the night before. Toys were piled in small bins beside the couch, and the miscellaneous clothes and shoes had disappeared, most likely to their respective places in the laundry or kids' bedroom.

The lingering smell of breakfast led you into the kitchen, where a plate of eggs and bacon sat neatly on the counter. Monica was truly a godsend, and knowing you were in good hands settled some nerves. Settling onto the kitchen barstool, you inhaled the aroma of the plate of food and reached for the fork. Your hand wavered as you spotted a piece of paper tucked under the plate's corner, dainty handwriting scribbling across the note.

In case you need it, here’s Joel’s number.

You stared at the series of numbers before you, your throat dry. Joel. The man that was giving you a second chance at this life you had decided to live. Joel. The man with a kind heart and even kinder eyes. Joel.

The one person who could change everything.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel x stripper!reader #joel miller x stripper!reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au

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corroded-hellfire · 2 months ago

Text

Mad Love - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie goes to visit Dustin at college and meets the Harley Quinn to his Joker at a Halloween party

Note: I had this idea because I needed a good Harley and Joker fix after watching the insane disappointment that was Joker 2.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m receiving, alcohol, Harley and Joker are crazy and so is Eddie so what do you expect

Words: 5k

“The party is where?”

“It’s at a house on the edge of campus.”

“A frat house, Dustin. A frat house. How do you even know these guys?”

Dustin sighs and grabs his deerstalker hat.

“I’m tutoring one of the guys who lives there,” he says.

“And this isn’t just some prank?” Eddie asks, a brow raised in skepticism. “Cool frat bro asks his younger, nerdy tutor to come by his Halloween party?”

The shorter man scoffs and shakes his head.

“Clay is a good guy,” Dustin defends. “You think I wouldn’t have been able to sniff out if he was some douchebag bully by now? My asshole detector is accurate, and you know it.”

“Fine.” Eddie picks his purple blazer up from where he laid it over the back of a chair. He slips his arms into it and adjusts it until it’s comfortable. “The music will probably be shit, though.”

“Look dude,” Dustin says, “you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. You can hang out in my dorm. Or one of the dining halls stays open pretty late. Grab some food.”

“Nope,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. His green-tinted curls sway with the motion. “I drove for hours to see your scrawny ass; I’m not going anywhere. Plus, I love Halloween parties.”

“Exactly how many have you been invited to before?”

“Hey, I provided great party favors in high school. I was a welcome sight for the most part.”

“Doesn’t mean ‘invited’...” Dustin mumbles as he adjusts his Sherlock Holmes cloak.

Eddie hears him anyway and knocks the hat off his friend’s head before grabbing the bag of makeup he brought to complete his costume.

Eddie’s first thought when he walks into the frat party is that it looks exactly like every college movie he’s ever seen. Red solo cups are in almost every hand, with a dozen or so already lost or discarded on the hardwood floor. The music is awful, as predicted, and despite the chilly October air, the room feels muggy because of all the bodies crammed inside.

“I don’t know what half these costumes are supposed to be,” Eddie shouts over the thumping bass.

Dustin shrugs in response and the two of them move farther into the room. The deeper into the crowd they get, and the more he looks around, the happier Eddie becomes that he came. Apparently, most college girls like to go for the “slutty” versions of costumes and Eddie can’t say that he minds one bit. A particular girl in a Princess Leia gold bikini catches his eye, but Dustin grabs his arm and drags him towards the stairs before he can even muster up a witty line to say to her.

“Why the fuck did I dress as a clown?” Eddie murmurs to himself.

“Eddie!” Dustin shouts. “This is Clay!”

The older man’s immediate reaction is that this guy looks like a much taller and less douchey Jason Carver. He doesn’t exude the same sense of superiority and holier-than-thou-ness that the Hawkins High basketball player did.

Clay offers his hand to Eddie with a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he calls above the music. “Dustin has told me a lot about you.”

Eddie shoots Dustin a smirk, to which the faux Sherlock Holmes rolls his eyes.

“Good to meet you, too,” Eddie says, shaking the man’s hand.

“Keg’s over there,” Clay says, gesturing towards the front corner of the open area, “bathrooms upstairs. Have fun!”

“Thanks, man,” Dustin replies.

Eddie feels like his head is on a swivel, looking in every direction at all the girls around him. He’s pretty sure he’s never been around this many girls in his life.

“Come on, Joker,” Dustin says, patting his friend on the back. “Stop looking over your shoulder like Batman is gonna pop out at any second and let's go get a drink.”

“M’not looking for any man, dude,” Eddie says as they head towards the keg. “Besides, you’re not old enough to drink.”

“Ya know, for a villain, you’re pretty uptight. Especially for one who used to sell drugs.”

Eddie shrugs and swipes up a clean solo cup. He opens his mouth to reply as he takes another step towards the keg, but he’s cut off as he almost bumps into someone also going for the tap.

“Whoa! Sorry there, Puddin’.”

Dark brown eyes go from his own black sneakers to black boots with red laces, scan up one red and one black pant leg, a long sleeve top with the colors on the opposite sides, and up to the prettiest face Eddie’s ever seen—even if there’s a black mask over her eyes. The cherry on top is the black and red jester hat with the small white cotton balls on the ends.

“My apologies, darling,” Eddie croons, sketching a bow. “After you.”

The female clown giggles and shrugs her shoulders coyly.

“Thanks, Mister J.” Her voice is sweet and clear, even above the noise of the party.

Dustin doesn’t need to be dressed as Sherlock Holmes to figure out how Eddie is looking at this girl. The college freshman sees the way his friend’s eyes follow every move she makes as she fills her cup with beer.

“I, uh, see a friend from my chem class,” Dustin says, shooting Eddie a sly smirk. “I’ll leave you clowns to it.”

Eddie nods without really listening, eyes never leaving the red and black dream standing in front of him. Once her cup is filled, she steps aside so her villainous counterpart can take his turn.

“Where you been hiding on me, huh?” Harley asks before taking a sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Then again, I guess the white paint and red lipstick could disguise anyone.”

“I could say the same to you.” Eddie nods to where she’s left a red lipstick stain on the rim of her solo cup.

“Well, I do have to admit that I’m not quite as outgoing when I’m not hiding behind a pound of makeup and a mask.”

“And I have to admit, I don’t actually go to school here.” Eddie winces before taking a large gulp from his own cup.

“It’s my lucky night, then!” She grins and reaches out, a red glove tugging on a purple lapel to bring him in closer. “Not here visiting a girlfriend, I hope?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head as he leans into her space. “Visiting a nerdy freshman that I took under my wing last time he was a freshman.”

“Sherlock Holmes?” Harley asks. She tilts her head to the side and Eddie can’t help but smile at how it adorably skews her hat.

“That’s him.”

“That’s so cute!”

The keg starts to gather a crowd, so the dynamic duo steps out of the way. Unfortunately, it’s closer to a speaker that has the music blaring in their faces.

“Outside?” Harley mouths, hitching her thumb over her shoulder towards the backyard.

Eddie nods and follows his fellow jester out into the crisp autumn night. Partygoers mingle in varying costumes, conversations able to be heard out here even over the thumping bass flooding out from the house. There aren’t any empty chairs or places to sit, so the pair decide to take a lap around the yard.

“What do you study?” Eddie asks as they walk side by side.

“Psychology,” she replies, giving a small dramatic bow that lets the white pom pom balls on the end of her hat shake back and forth.

“Ah,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “Not just Harley Quinn then, we’ve got Dr. Harleen Quinzel herself.”

“In the flesh,” she says with a cheeky shrug of her shoulders. “Or, well, in the clown suit and makeup, anyway. It’s my last year so I figured it’s time to go all out and have fun. Hence the costume.”

“And I just dress like this regularly,” Eddie jokes, adjusting his purple tie with his free hand. “I’m a natural green head, by the way. None of that dyed shit for me. It’s always so obvious when it’s fake.”

“It goes so well with your deathly pale complexion and naturally thick eyelined eyes,” she says, gesturing to his makeup.

“Don’t forget the au naturale blood red lips,” Eddie adds, puckering them for emphasis.

“Who could forget those lips?” Harley’s eyes darken as she speaks, her gaze drifting down to Eddie’s mouth before coming back up to meet his eyes.

“God, it’s freezing out here,” a girl in a hula skirt and coconut bra complains as she hurries past the clowns with a friend, heading towards the door for the house.

“I’m comfortable,” Harley says, stopping to do a twirl in between steps. “Have no idea why she could be so chilled! They call me crazy, but at least I know to be covered up outside in Indiana in October. Ah, but I suppose that would ruin the sexiness of her costume, wouldn’t it?”

“Well,” Eddie says, not hiding the fact that he’s looking her up and down. He figures he might as well shoot his shot. “You’re literally covered from head to toe, down to your fingertips, and you managed to be the sexiest one here tonight.”

It takes her a moment to recover from the unexpected compliment. Flirting? Okay, she was absolutely doing it too. But Eddie’s words warm her from within and she can feel the heat seeking its only outlet in this costume: her face.

“Aha, but word on the street is that you’re crazy too, Mister J.”

“Maybe crazy, but not blind,” Eddie replies.

She smiles and it makes Eddie’s heart stutter in his chest.

Before Harley gets a chance to open her mouth and reply, the back door of the frat house busts open and a whole gaggle of drunken guys come spilling out.

“Stupid boys,” Harley says, shaking her head. She looks back to Eddie and offers her hand, palm up. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“I’d be delighted.” Eddie’s white gloved hand takes her black gloved hand, and the two intertwine their fingers as they head to the side of the frat house, to walk around to the front.

There are still people streaming into the party. Cars are parked up and down the street and some are clearly circling the block to see where they might be able to squeeze in as well.

Harley leads Eddie across the street and down a side road, away from the chaos of the party.

“So,” she says once they’re far enough away to hear one another easily, “what’s your real name, Joker?”

“Eddie,” he tells her, giving her hand a soft squeeze. “What about you?”

She tells him her name and Eddie can’t help but think how pretty it is.

“But tonight I’m Harley, cause she ain’t as shy as I am,” she says.

“I’m pretty sure Eddie is on the same level of outgoing-ness that Joker is, so I’m good with either,” he says, making her laugh.

The two of them walk towards the heart of campus and come to the point where Eddie actually starts to recognize buildings.

“This is the student center, right?” he asks.

“Yep. The best place to get good on campus, just as a heads up.”

“I will definitely keep that in mind. My buddy says he mostly eats in the East dining hall cause it’s right in front of his dorm building,” Eddie explains.

“That’s the East dining hall right there,” Harley says, pointing to a long one-story building to their right.

“Which makes that Haynes Hall.” Eddie gestures to the looming brick building behind it. “That’s where I’m crashing.”

“Is that so?”

The sultry, suggestive tone goes right to Eddie’s cock.

“Would you, uh, like to see it?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

“You know,” she says, leaning forward to rest her hands on the lapels of his purple blazer, “I lived there back when I was a freshman.”

Eddie feels his heart drop. Was he reading the signals wrong? If so, what does it mean that she has her hands on his chest right now?

“I’m curious to see how it changed over these past three years,” she finishes.

The grin on Eddie’s face is as wide as the one the fictional character he’s dressed up as usually sports.

“Well, let’s not keep you in suspense any longer,” he says.

Harley gladly slips one of her hands into one of Eddie’s and tugs him in the direction of the twelve-story building. As soon as both of their pairs of black shoes are squeaking down the entryway hall down to the elevator, Harley gently pulls her hand away from Eddie’s to yank off the red and black gloves. The Joker follows suit with his own white ones, wanting to be able to hold her hand without any offending material in the way.

Their fingers lace together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for the pair of them, and Harley jabs the elevator up button with her thumb. The silver doors glide open and as soon as he’s inside, Eddie is pressing the button to Dustin’s floor with urgency, before switching to the button that closes the elevator doors.

The moment the doors slide closed behind them, Eddie backs Harley up against the side wall of the elevator and cages her in by resting his arms against the litany of flyers that have been taped up on either side of her head. Her black mask slowly starts to slip down her nose as she gazes up at him. Eddie lowers his head to hers, his mouth only a breath away. A cheerful ding letting them know they’re on the right floor interrupts the almost-kiss.

Her eagerness is clear with the harsh tug she gives Eddie’s arm to lead him out of the elevator and down the thinly carpeted hall.

“Uh, 802,” Eddie says, scanning the room numbers of every door they pass.

“Oops,” Harley says with a giggle. “We’re going the wrong way.” She does a clumsy attempt at a ballet spin to turn one-eighty degrees and face the other end of the hall.

As soon as Eddie starts to think that they’re never going to find this goddamn room, they turn a corner and skid to a halt in front of the correct door. Eddie digs the extra key that Dustin gave him out of his pocket and slips it into the lock.

The moment they’re inside, Eddie is fumbling for the light since he doesn’t know the layout and can’t blindly lead her to the bed. The last thing he needs is either of them tripping on some textbook and breaking an arm.

Dustin’s bed is pushed against the right side of the wall and Eddie already makes a mental note to beg his younger friend’s forgiveness as he’s either disinfecting or burning the sheets later. Speaking of said younger friend…

Eddie doesn’t have the time or inkling to go digging through Dustin’s drawers to find a sock to hang on the doorknob, so he kicks off his sneakers and yanks at his black socks. One gets tossed to the cluttered floor while Eddie opens the dorm door and puts the other on the doorknob. The universal sign that you better come back later—even if this is your room.

Now Eddie can return his attention to the one place he’d like to keep it tonight: the beautiful jester in front of him.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Puddin’?” Harley coos, patting the edge of the mattress.

He sits down where she instructed and is rewarded with the sight of her kneeling on the floor between his spread legs. Eddie drops one of Dustin’s pillows down on the floor—since the bedding is all going to need to be taken care of anyway—and she gives the man above her a grateful smile.

Bare hands work at the belt holding the purple pants up and Eddie can’t keep his eyes off of them. He admires how soft and smooth they look as her fingers nimbly work. She then pops open his fly and drags down the zipper. Eddie lifts his hips and together the two of them push the pants and his boxers down his thighs. His cock springs free, already hard and begging to be touched. Her eyes immediately land on the precum beading at the head and she licks over her lips eagerly. A soft hum from the back of her throat is the only warning Eddie gets before she takes his length in her hand and immediately begins licking up the side of his shaft.

Eddie’s head drops back with a low groan. One hand falls to the mattress beside him while the other gently rests on the crown of her jester hat. When she takes the head of his cock in her mouth, Eddie clenches the comforter that his hand is resting on in his fist.

“Fuck,” Eddie moans. He tilts his chin forward to look down at the sexy supervillain sucking his dick. The bright red lipstick leaves a ring around Eddie’s cock that he never wants to wash off. He watches her go deeper and deeper each time, the crimson smears getting closer to the dark patch of hair at his base.

When her head begins to pick up speed, bobbing up and down, Eddie knows he needs to stop her before the real fun begins. Gently, he presses against her shoulder, which she is able to interpret and pulls her mouth off his cock with a pop. She looks up at him and her black eye makeup has smeared, smudging beneath her eyes and dark tear trails carving a path down the white face paint—all with the mask still in place.

“You’re too good at that,” Eddie tells her with a breathy chuckle.

“Good thing you stopped me, or I would’ve just kept going,” she says, laying her head down on his thighs and looking up at him with eyes shiny from tears. “And where would the fun be in that?”

“Exactly, darling.”

Eddie helps her up from the floor and she takes a seat on the bed next to him. She watches his every motion as he stands to kick his pants and boxers all the way off. Once he’s finished, she turns so her back is facing him.

“Would you mind unzipping me?” she asks.

“Not one bit.” Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to the side of her neck, which causes a shiver to go down her spine as Eddie drags the pull tab in that same direction.

Harley stands and kicks her boots off before shimmying the bodysuit costume down her frame. Eddie’s eyes make sure to capture every last detail of the reveal. With every new area of skin that’s exposed, it becomes his new favorite. The black lace bra and red lace panties make him chuckle.

“Even in the right colors down to that sinful underwear,” he remarks.

“Thought it was only fitting,” she says with the shrug of one shoulder. She kneels down on the bed and leans forward, working on popping open the buttons, first, on the yellow vest beneath the blazer, and then the mint green shirt below that. “Didn’t think that anyone was actually gonna see me like this tonight, so that makes for a nice surprise.”

“Didn’t think you’d be hooking up with someone with clown makeup on?” Eddie teases as he shrugs out of all his top layers.

“I could ask you the same question, Mister J.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums as he slips his arm around her waist and lowers her down to the mattress. “So we’ll be naked, just clowns from the neck up.”

“You’re already naked,” Harley muses, her eyes running up and down his bare form as he crawls on top of her. “Least you can do is make it even.”

A sound suspiciously close to a growl rumbles from Eddie’s throat before he speaks.

“Gladly.”

She arches her back, and Eddie counts his blessings when he’s able to unhook her bra fairly easily. He helps her get it off her arms and throw it somewhere in the dorm to be found later. Next, she lifts her hips off the mattress and Eddie is able to free her of her panties in one fell swoop.

Calloused fingers run up the outside of soft thighs before he lets them trail down to the part most aching for his touch.

Harley feels on edge—his hand is so close and he can’t move it fast enough. A desperate whimper tumbles from her lips and Eddie can’t help but find it adorably endearing.

“P-Please, Eddie,” she whines.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Eddie croons. His fingers travel down farther, and she automatically drops her legs open wider for him. A thick middle finger slides down and up her slit. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

“Want you so bad,” is the only thing she can get out, through a hoarse wispy voice.

“Is my Harley Quinn all needy? Hmm?” Eddie’s voice is soft and slow as his middle finger slides up and presses against her clit.

“Yes!” Her hands grip at Eddie’s upper arms and her eyes practically roll back in her head as he rubs tight circles against her sensitive nub. “Yes, Puddin’. Need you so bad.”

“Tell me what you need,” Eddie purrs.

“You,” Harley whimpers. “Your cock.”

“Whatever my partner in crime wants.” Eddie smirks as he positions his body on top of hers and guides his cock to her entrance. He moves slowly and she feels every inch as he pushes inside of her.

“Feels so good,” she whimpers, reaching up to hold on to some part of him.

“Tell me how good, baby.”

“M’so full,” she whines, hands moving higher so her fingers tangle in his green-tinted locks. “You’re so fucking big.”

Eddie’s hips pick up the pace, building a steady rhythm that makes the mattress below them squeak. Neither can hear over the sound of their labored breathing, though.

Using her grip on his hair, Harley pulls Eddie’s face down to hers and smashes their mouths together. Their lips meld together and tongues dance with one another, only adding to the intense pleasure. A particularly hard thrust of Eddie’s hips has them moaning into one another’s mouths. When the kiss breaks, Eddie buries his head into her neck while Harley’s breaths become even more shallow.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls against her skin. “Feels goddamn perfect.”

Fingers tighten in Eddie’s hair in response, and the man isn’t able to hold back a guttural groan when she gives a small tug on the strands.

“Someone likes his hair being pulled,” Harley murmurs.

Eddie pulls back and looks down at her. He opens his mouth to respond but breaks into strangled laughter before any words can come out.

“W-What?” she asks.

“I had some witty retort questioning if you like your hair pulled, but I can’t even see your hair because of that adorable fucking hat.”

Harley lets out a soft giggle and shakes her head from side to side so the white pom poms on the end of the sides wiggle all over the place.

“How are you so goddamn sexy and insanely cute at the same time?” Eddie asks, a breathy laugh of his own coming out as his hips keep up their punishing pace.

“Mm, well, insane comes with the territory.” She grins and Eddie can’t help but dive back in to press his lips to her again. The red lipstick each of them is wearing smears to combine a shade of red that’s a compromise of both hues.

“Can I take your mask off?” Eddie asks against her lips.

“Please.”

Eddie balances himself hovering over her body before he reaches up with one hand and takes the small black mask off her face. He gently tosses it to land on top of the costume in a heap on the floor before focusing on her face. It’s still covered in white makeup with black tear tracks, but he can see much more clearly what she looks like underneath the whole Harley Quinn getup and it makes him smile.

“Beautiful,” he says, not even realizing he said it aloud at first.

“Not so bad yourself, gorgeous,” Harley says, giving him a wink.

A minor tilt of Eddie’s hips has his cock hitting just the right spot to make her see stars. A mix between a gasp and a moan erupts from her throat as her hands move to grab Eddie’s upper arms. Her fingers curl into his triceps and her eyes fall shut at the immense pleasure of Eddie’s cock repeatedly brushing that perfect spot.

“Holy shit,” she gasps.

“Good, baby?” Eddie coos.

“Uh huh,” she mumbles, forehead crinkling as her mouth falls open in awe. “God, right there, Eddie.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Eddie drills his hips into hers, his eyes boring down at hers as she blinks them open.

Face still scrunched up in ecstasy, Harley stares right back up at Eddie. The combination of him hitting that spot over and over again mixed with the intimacy of the intense eye contact creates a familiar tightening in her lower abdomen.

“Eddie, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“That’s it,” Eddie rasps. “Come on my cock, sweetheart.” He reaches down and rubs her clit in time with his thrusts into her.

The friction is just what she needs to send her over the edge. Her back arches off the back, pressing her breasts into Eddie’s chest, and she lets out the most beautiful moans that Eddie’s ever heard as the wave of pleasure crashes over her.

The clenching of her already tight pussy around Eddie’s cock has him spilling into her seconds later. His thrusts are sloppy and desperate, but it sends a warm pleasant feeling over Harley as she comes down from her high.

Once Eddie is spent, he rests his forehead against hers. The face paint on both of them has smeared and smudged, now runny from sweat. They just gaze at one another as they attempt to catch their breaths.

“God, that was good.” She finally breaks the silence.

“So fucking good,” Eddie agrees. He leans down and presses another kiss to her lips before rolling to the side and plopping down next to her.

There’s a silence between them that has the potential to turn awkward, but they turn their heads to look at one another at the same time, and they both burst out in laughter.

“Do I look as funny as you do?” Harley asks, reaching up and smearing some of the white paint on his cheek.

“I’m afraid so,” Eddie replies with a nod.

“What a couple of clowns we are.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and brings his hands up to cover his face. When he pulls them away, they’re covered in white and red smears. Harley goes to lift her own hands to her face but stops halfway and lets out a soft squeal that turns into laughter.

“What? What is it?” Eddie asks.

She can’t stop laughing, so she turns her hands to show they’re now green from the coloring in his hair.

“Oh damn,” Eddie says, starting to laugh himself. “I’d say we’re in need of a shower.”

Harley turns on her side to face him and props her head up on her elbow.

“The bathrooms in this dorm aren’t co-ed,” she says. “Buuuut I also know that no one really gives a shit.”

“Dr. Quinzel, are you proposing we shower together?” He widens his eyes in fake shock.

“As long as you lend me something to wear afterwards, Puddin,” she croons, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “I can’t exactly go around looking like this.”

“Looks good to me,” Eddie says with a smirk, which earns him a playful swat on the chest. “Even with the hat.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m still wearing this thing,” she says with a laugh.

“May I?” Eddie gestures towards the jester cap.

“Go for it.”

Eddie undoes the strap that was holding the black and red hat in place and gently removes it from her head. He can’t help but give a goofy grin now that he sees every part of her—except the clear skin of her face.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister J.”

After both clowns have shed their makeup and are squeaky clean, Eddie lends her an oversized hoodie and she pulls her panties back on. Eddie changes into a pair of pajamas he packed with him.

He takes a step over to the bed now that he’s freshly dressed and winces when he sees the sheets. The navy-colored fabric is smeared with white face paint, red lipstick, and black eye makeup—not to mention other spots and stains that Eddie doesn’t even want to think about Dustin finding.

He makes quick work of yanking all the bedding off and shoving it into Dustin’s hamper. Clean? Burn? Both? Eddie’s not sure, but he’s leaning towards the fiery option. If the situations were reversed, Eddie would not want to be sleeping on these sheets ever again.

“Say, partner in crime.” Eddie sidles up next to her and wraps his arm around her waist. “Want to destroy some property with me? Quick question though…is it only arson if it’s a building or does it count for lighting anything ablaze?”

“We can just ask the cops when they arrest us,” she says with a shrug. “I’m sure they’ll know. Or maybe it’ll be Batman who gets us!”

The response makes Eddie chuckle. He leans in, cupping her clean, clear face in both hands and presses his lips against hers. The two of them get caught in the moment, mouths moving fervently, when there’s a voice outside the dorm door.

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me. This asshole doesn’t get laid the entirety of high school, but now it happens in my room? God damn it, Munson. Stranded out in the hallway as Sherlock fucking Holmes. Just perfect.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic

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springwitch8 · 3 months ago

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picture you (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

summary: when melissa comes over to check on you after a rowdy night, she's met with a tantalizing display of what the thought of her stirs in you.

warnings: lesbian sex duh (18+), voyeurism, masturbation, squirting, alcohol consumption and memory loss, teasing, vibrators, overstimulation, "casual" sapphic situationship

notes: hi sorry for being gone for six months (if anyone cares), but i'm back at least temporarily for kinktober. this is a fic based on "picture you" by chappell roan, so go listen to it for the full experience. i feel like this is kinda bad and idk why i wrote it other than i'm gay and deprived of affection. but that's the writer's burden is it not

the morning after ava's halloween party, you startled yourself awake with a jolt and a gasp. given how much alcohol you'd had the previous night, you expected to wake up in a puddle of sweat or worse. instead, you were tucked into your bed, dry, warm, and barely hung over. well, mostly dry.

you shifted your legs under the sheets and sighed. another pair of panties ruined because of her, you thought.

and yeah, you did blame melissa. she spent the whole night riling you up, only to then deny you sex because you were drunk. the two of you had been hooking up at every opportunity for a couple weeks. it was meant to be an occasional thing, an escape from the stress and tension of your daily lives as educators. but once you finally got your hands on each other, neither of you wanted to pull away.

vignettes from the previous night played on a loop in your mind. your memory of the party was a hazy blur that began at melissa's place. after much convincing, melissa had agreed to be the rio to your agatha for halloween. it was an easy look to throw together last-minute, given the amount of green in her wardrobe and black in both yours and hers. this was convenient because ava, true to form, had announced her party just two days before it was meant to happen.

"hold still," melissa said as she leaned into you. your eyes fluttered shut as she lifted the purple-dusted makeup brush to your eyelid. her free hand found purchase on your thigh. you held your breath as she gently applied the eyeshadow. "shakin' ain't still, princess."

"sorry," you breathed. she painted your other eyelid and then reached into her bag, retrieving a soft pink lipstick. she uncapped it and raised it to your mouth.

"open," she said simply. your lips parted and she smoothed the lipstick on. you were so focused on the command and the smell of her perfume and how close her face was to yours; you didn't even notice the way her fingers were slowly creeping up your thigh. "alright, pretty girl, you're done."

she withdrew her hand from your inner thigh and smiled when you whimpered at the loss. then she took your hand, pulled the hood of her green cloak over her head, and started toward the door. you scoffed at her fruitless teasing.

"come on," she planted a kiss on your cheek. "we're already late."

lying in bed, you remembered how she looked in that moment: the slinky black dress teasing her cleavage, the lacy green robe draped over her shoulders and caressing her long red waves. you recalled the warmth of her palm on your leg and the unmistakable lust in her smoky eyes. your face flushed and you squirmed under the covers.

once again you felt the dampness of your underwear, which reminded you of the racy dream you had after melissa tucked you into bed and left. you pressed your thighs together as the dream came back to you in bits and pieces—a subconscious compilation of all the things you wanted her to do to you last night.

in your mind's eye, you saw the redhead pinning you against ava's bathroom door, one hand over your mouth and one sneaking under your skirt. you remembered dancing with her, her hands running greedily along your curves and summoning goosebumps in their wake, and imagined what would have happened if her fingers had dared to venture under your dress. you could practically hear her reaction: "no bra? you must want me bad, baby."

now you were hot and bothered again at the mere image of her. almost unconsciously, you reached down and dragged your ruined underwear down your legs, leaving you bare except for the oversized tee melissa picked out for you to sleep in. on instinct, your fingers began to migrate down your body, searching for the source of the tingling between your legs. another flashback from the party swept your psyche.

the game was simple: you jump, you drink. you, melissa, mr. johnson and gregory—who was only participating out of loyalty to his unspoken status as the most rational and collected teacher at abbott—all played along while watching sinister.

"sit on my lap, sweetheart," melissa whispered in your ear as the opening credits played. there was plenty of room for the four of you on ava's couch, but that didn't matter to the redhead. when you sheepishly complied, gregory gave you both a puzzled look. "gotta make sure this one doesn't cheat."

you got comfy on melissa's lap and watched the screen, steeling yourself for the scares ahead. not even ten minutes into the movie, you had to take your first drink. the protagonist crept around while ominous music grew ever louder, and you braced yourself for the first jumpscare. just then, while you were on the edge of your "seat" on top of her, melissa pinched the back of your right thigh harshly. you startled in her lap, and mr. johnson hollered, "that counts, bottoms up!" melissa smirked and soothed a thumb over the bit of skin she'd squeezed while you sulked through a shot of vodka.

"don't be scared, honey. it's just me," she cooed, continuing to rub firm circles into your flesh. you couldn't stop yourself from thinking of her repeating that same motion elsewhere on your body. feigning fear at the movie, you turned away from the screen and buried your burning face in the crook of melissa's neck.

lost in reminiscence, you were hardly conscious of the fact that your fingers had begun drawing circles on your clit. you whimpered, lamenting that your own touch would never be as magical as melissa's. you had only the memory of how her fingers felt on your body, how her sultry voice sounded in your ear. these things alone were enough to make you spread your legs and touch yourself in earnest.

about an hour into sinister, melissa cut you off. you had been jumpscared one too many times, and the older woman decided it was time to switch out your alcohol for water. this meant that when the film was over and it was time to go home, you were more coherent... but only by a little bit.

sitting next to you on the edge of your bed, melissa pulled at the ties on your purple dress until the garment fell away from your torso. giddy with excitement because she was finally undressing you, you turned around and placed an enthusiastic kiss on her lips. she reciprocated, but pulled back when you reached for the buttons on her dress.

"no touching, my little witch," she said, batting your hand away. you huffed and pouted at her. "you're drunk. don't start. if you're good for me tonight, maybe i'll reward you tomorrow."

tomorrow.

your eyes flew open and sure enough, there she was—leaning forward through the doorframe, dressed in a blue jacket and leather pants, a smug smile on her face. your hand froze between your legs.

"no, please, go on. i was enjoyin' the show," melissa teased. "unless... you need my help?" she took a few small, measured steps toward you. "sounded like it from downstairs. you know i can't resist you when you moan my name, angel."

"i was... saying your name?" you asked.

"oh yeah, you've been whining for me since i got here," at your look of alarm and embarrassment, she went on. "babydoll, i heard dirtier things from you last night anyway."

at this, your mouth dropped open. you had no idea what she was referring to, and she could tell. she grinned and stalked toward the bed.

"you don't remember, do ya? well, that's a shame. you were beggin' me to touch you, sayin' you'd die if i didn't," her fingernail found your calf and traced a slow, meandering path up your bare leg. "it was cute. i've never seen you so needy."

more clips from the previous night ran through your head. melissa trying to help you into your pajamas while you grabbed at her fingers, trying to drag them where you wanted them. the stern look she gave you when you arched your back, pushing your breasts into her working hands. in the present, your whole body ran hot with embarrassment, and melissa chuckled.

"i came here to pull you back from the brink of death, sweetie, but if you'd rather do it yourself..." melissa trailed off, lifting her finger from your skin.

"no!" you protested, taking hold of her hand and looking deeply into her olive-green eyes. "please, i still need you."

"that's what i thought," she beamed, positioning herself over you. "now... what do you want, princess? fingers or tongue?"

"fuck—" you gasped as she cupped and squeezed your tits through your shirt. "tongue, please."

melissa wasted no time, lifting up your shirt and inching toward your center with featherlight kisses down your torso. when she finally reached the hem of your panties, she rubbed her finger back and forth along your clothed sex. "so messy today," she cooed before sliding the garment down your legs.

"yeah, 'cause you spent the whole party feeling me u-" your scoff gave way to a moan as melissa licked through your folds. your frustration melted away with each hot stroke of her tongue, just as she intended. she devoured every drop of you she could reach while you mewled, helpless against the pleasure. "god, yes!"

"not god, babygirl, me," melissa drawled between licks. she teased around your clit for what felt like forever, until your pleading noises cracked her resolve. she stimulated your bundle of nerves by drawing, and then scribbling, spirals with her tongue. "that's it, honey. doesn't that feel nice? isn't that worth waiting for?"

"yes, yeah," you babbled, already getting close from her ministrations. when your hips began to buck against her mouth, she paused. when she withdrew from the bed altogether and went to rifle through her bag, you huffed. "i didn't come, mel."

"i know you didn't, doll. that beautiful brain of yours gave me some great ideas last night, ya know," she said with a hint of amusement. "kept telling me to use toys on ya so i wouldn't technically be touching you while you were drunk. your logic was nonsense, but it did get me thinkin' of more creative ways to play with you."

once she was done speaking, she held up a deep green, curved dildo to your line of sight.

"it's a g-spot vibrator. can i try it out on you?"

you nodded vigorously, and she grinned. melissa grabbed the vibrator and positioned herself between your spread legs, nuzzling into your clit just to hear your sharp gasp. she switched to swiping her thumb over your button while her dominant hand teased your entrance with the toy.

"just relax, sweetheart, open up for me," she coaxed as she pressed the tip of the dildo inside you. fortunately you were more than wet enough to take the stretch, and it went a lot more smoothly once melissa turned on low vibrations. her finger traced lazy yet encouraging patterns on your clit. once the toy was fully sheathed inside you, it nestled against your most sensitive spot. even the gentlest vibrations made you shake and squeal. "aw, is that the spot, angel? good girl, i knew you could take it."

melissa turned up the vibrations by three settings, and it took all your willpower not to scream. while you adjusted to the new sensation, her mouth returned to your clit and suckled. the pressure on both of your sensitive spots proved too much, and you tumbled over the edge for the first time that morning. the redhead only doubled down in her efforts as you jerked and trembled through your release, nursing on your bundle of nerves with force.

when the stimulation started to feel overwhelming in the afterglow of your orgasm, your panicked eyes flitted to melissa. the pleased smirk never left her face as she dialed up the vibrator by several more notches and swapped her mouth out for her fingers rubbing your clit. "last night you promised i could fuck you however i wanted, for as long as i wanted. well, now i'm giving you what you begged for. how's it feel to be at my mercy?"

you moaned and writhed frantically as a second, more powerful wave of pleasure threatened to crest at any moment.

"is this what you were thinkin' about when i came in? me in that pretty costume, taking good care of your pussy?"

with these words, a drive of the dildo into your g-spot, and a pinch of your clit, you came undone again. this time melissa's hands were soaked in a gush of wetness, but she kept on rubbing you through the very last spasm.

"what, you been holdin' out on me? you've never done that before," melissa said lightly, passing you a glass of cold water. you shrugged and looked away in embarrassment. "hey," she started, lifting your jaw in her hand to meet her gaze, "it was gorgeous. and now i'm gonna try like hell to make you come like that every single time."

as she gathered her things, you cocked your head. she usually preferred to stick around and let you return the favor. melissa noticed your raised eyebrow and offered an explanation.

"i got errands to run today, and satisfying my girl was first on the list," she said before leaning in for a deep kiss. "i'll see you tomorrow at work, okay hon?"

you didn't have the chance to reply before she slipped out the door. she had spent the night looking after you and the morning pleasing you, then called you her girl. ha, you thought, so much for casual.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti smut #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfic #wlw smut #kinktober

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thepaperbagstore · 3 months ago

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seafoamsol · 6 months ago

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The best years of my life...

... what I wouldn't give to have them back.

I had the great pleasure of working with @spiderscribe on a DeadCeptor work for the @tf-bigbang, which you can (and should!) read [ HERE ]!

Details and artist commentary under the cut!

Okay, first off, I just wanna say, thank you so much to @spiderscribe for picking up my very loose scribble and taking the jump. She's an absolute champ, and I IMPLORE you to read her writing. She did a knockout job on the fic, and guaranteed, these two pieces wouldn't have been so elaborate without her. If you're a fan of deadceptor, parallels, lovers to enemies to apocalyptic teammates to ???s, I'm sure you'll find that and more in there.

[ HERE ] is the link to that, if you missed it the first time around.

The background for the supermarket was a MASSIVE undertaking. I ended up blurring it in the final to keep the dream-like quality, but there is a lot happening there! Most of the time I spent on the background was (jokingly) complaining though.

Anyone who works retail will know the agony of customer-misplaced stock. The little canisters of energon additives seem like prime candidates to be placed willy-nilly.

The little warning sign... My favorite soda, apple sidra, has a carcinogen warning, so I'm familiar with it. It was slightly surprising to me that those warnings are not countrywide, despite the fact that they very clearly say "California Proposition 65", and well. Not something else, like "Federal" or whatever.

The bags of nuts and bolts below, I asked several people what flavor they would be, and I suppose I failed in my job, because I wanted the purple to be the "regular" flavor, and the green to be the "sour". But grape and lemon-lime work as well!

The tub is full of rust-sticks. I have no idea if that came across. My friends kept calling the individually wrapped ones slim jims, which I mean, I guess!

The car batteries... My idea was that they were similar to shots, in a way? So that's how I ended up with a battery with enough terminals to rival an international airport. It's also sunset-coloured, because, I don't know, that's what Party Flavor is to me.

Okay. The second illustration. This one was a headache, mostly due to my own lack of planning, and the fact that I lost the file for... basically everything I did, including the above illustration. So it was a bit of a rush job.

The background bots started off as these very vague silhouettes, which I'm a little proud of. Look at how nice and somewhat readable they are! Okay, now what if I ruined it? What? You don't like that? That's rather unfortunate, because that's what I proceeded to do. In fact, if I take off all.. 10 or something adjustment layers, they look like this:

My process went: Shadow block> Fill rest of form> Color randomiser> Copy and skew (to populate background)> Hue adjustment> Gradient map> Fill Light> Chromatic aberration> Vignette> Levels> Curves.

The.... Magenta cube is there because due to the nature of the color randomiser, the foot had a high value, and stuck out like nobody's business in the end.

Here's what it would look like without the cube. Begone, distracting white blob! (I didn't have to worry about the lava arm because Percy happened to cover it up. What a save! But if he didn't then... there would have been a second cube.)

Basically, it was a mess. But... at least it came out fine in the end! I hope!

I'd love to have speedpaints on hand, but I was switching between CSP and PS for a good majority of the work.

I'd say that's it for these two pieces! I actually have more, but those demand more time. I'm much slower at doing inks than I am at painting, but I hope you'll get to see them soon.

#phew! been a while since I last did some commentary for a piece #I didn't even go over what everything was on the background shelves but just know if you asked me i'd probably be able to tell you #I have... an additional several pages of a comic based off of the fic that I unfortunately have not finished in time #but I definitely will #again it was amazing working with caroline and I hope to work with her again in future!#maccadam #transformers #tf perceptor #tf dead end #transformers cyberverse #tfc #deadceptor #perceptor #dead end

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papaya-twinks · 2 months ago

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me? forget - l.n 🎈

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

“Morning, baby,” Lando smiled, walking into the kitchen behind you, his torso bare as he huffed you from behind. You could feel his chest pressed to your back, his arms round your waist, fingers sliding over your bra, his curls tickling your jaw as he held you to his body.

“Extra affectionate today,” you said, giggling as he pressed a warm kiss to your shoulder, his fingers dipping under the waistband of your panties. “Mmm, can’t help it,” he mumbled, “you look hot in this,” he tugged on the white shirt you had on, unbuttoned.

“Mhm,” you hummed, ducking under his arm to continue making your tea, tying your hair into a messy bun as you worked. “Should I get, like, snacks for upstairs?” Lando smiled, flashing you his goofy grin as you raised a brow, blinking in confusion.

“Why’s that?” you asked, turning your attention back to your tea cup, missing the way his smile fell slightly. “Y’know, we’re gonna stay home and cuddle and…stuff,” he shrugged, walking back to you to kiss your neck, only to have you duck under his arm once more.

“No we’re not,” you frowned, “I have some stuff to do,” you said, grabbing your car keys from the dish on the side. “Oh…okay,” Lando said, forcing a smile onto his face as he watched you leave, going up the stairs, a frown on his face. Had he done something wrong?

You’d never forgotten his birthday, or your anniversary or anything like that, has he done something? Had he forgotten yours or something? Lando stayed upstairs, not even bothering to come down when he heard your car rolling into the driveway, thinking to himself.

“Hey Lando,” you smiled, walking into the room as you placed your bags down, met with nothing but a half-hearted grunt and an incoherent mumble. “Enjoy the shops?” he finally said, not lookin up from his phone. “It was…just a shopping trip, nothing to enjoy,” you frowned.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, turning on his side, his back facing you as you sighed. “Can you go out and grab me some snacks?” you asked, “I’m feeling a bit sick of driving, cramps and stuff,” you lied as he rolled his eyes, shrugging and standing up.

“I guess,” he mumbled, grabbing the keys and leaving. Perfect. As soon as he left, Carlos, Max F and a bunch of his other friends crept in, as you’d gone to pick them up instead of going to the shops, a bright grin on your face.

“God, you look happy,” Max said, nudging you as you followed them into the house, grabbing all the balloons from whet your stuffed them into the closet. “How can I not be?” you said, dumping a bunch of balloons around the place, turning some lights to purple.

“He was kinda, like, pissed at me, I think,” you said, half-grimacing as Carlos helped you hang up some decorations, Max working on wheeling out the three-tier cake onto the middle of the table. “Coz of the whole ‘forgetting his birthday’ thing?” the Spaniard asked as you nodded.

“Maybe a surprise party wasn’t such a good idea,” you said, chewing on your lip as Max sighed. “There’s not much we can do now,” Carlos said, “it’s happened now, so we might as well make it special for him, no?”. He was right, now all you had to do was wait for Lando to come back.

“Surprise!” you all cheered as Lando walked into the too, looking bewildered as he walked into the room, weakly clutching his bag before he blinked a few times, his eyes widening.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he immediately went to you, all his earlier coldness forgotten as he dumped the bag in the couch. Max and Carlos popped some confetti things as you grinned, slinging your arms round his neck as he blinked at you, confused. “I-I thought you…forgot my birthday, I-,” Lando rambled, a smile sliding onto his face.

“Bullshit, like I’d forget your birthday,” you said, squeezing his side as he pushed your hand away, a smile on his face as he kissed your jaw. “Knew it wasn’t like you,” he said, his cheeks tinged slightly pink as he swayed on the spot, watching his friends parade around in celebration for his birthday.

“I fucking hate you,” he said, watching in awe as Max lifted the knife, handing it to Lando to cut the cake. “God, I love you,” he said, pulling your hand onto his as he cut the cake, the slice falling perfectly onto a paper plate. “I love you,” he said again, kissing you once more.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris x you #f1 #lando norris smut

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lizziesangel · 21 days ago

Text

TOM RIDDLE ⟢ soulmates don’t exist PT. 7

SDE MASTERLIST ⟢ x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: +4.7k

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travelling

to be added to taglist

The sun filtered gently through the glass panes of the greenhouse, casting soft patterns of light across rows of exotic plants and herbs. Herbology class was well underway, and you were elbow-deep in soil and greenery alongside Lucas, who had somehow managed to turn a simple pruning task into an elaborate plan for early retirement.

“Added some lacewing flies and a bit of powdered root of asphodel to this,” he said, pointing to the strangely wriggling plant in front of him, a devil’s snare cutting, “We could probably start our own illicit potion business. Think about it—retirement by seventh year.”

You laughed, wiping your hands on a cloth and shaking your head. “I’m not sure Professor Garlick would be too thrilled if we used her greenhouse as our secret lab.”

Lucas sighed, putting a hand over his heart with exaggerated disappointment. “Ah, the crushing weight of responsibility. We could’ve been legends, Y/n.”

“Legends for getting expelled, maybe,” you said with a smirk as you carefully pruned a particularly thorny stem.

Professor Garlick approached your table, smiling approvingly as she noticed your progress. “Very good, you two! Lucas, Y/n, keep up the excellent work. And do try not to let the devil’s snare strangle you,” she added with a wink.

Once she moved on, Lucas leaned closer to you, whispering, “Imagine the scandal—two young potioneers with enough galleons to buy a private island in the caribbean.”

“You’d probably find a way to ruin it,” you teased, nudging him as you moved to another plant. “And besides, there’s more to life than mischief, you know.”

Lucas gave you an exaggerated gasp, as if you’d said something offensive. “More to life than mischief? Sacrilege!” he shook his head, feigning disappointment. “How did I end up with a friend who has such… practical dreams?”

“Pure luck, Lucas,” you replied with a grin.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling back. “Fine, we’ll stick to legal Herbology pursuits—for now.”

As the hour went on, you and Lucas worked in comfortable silence, tending to the plants and whispering snatches of gossip about other students when Professor Garlick wasn’t in earshot.

After class, as you gathered your things, you noticed a few Slytherins nearby, casting glances your way. Lucas noticed too, and his expression shifted to something slightly annoyed.

“Why do they always look at us like that?” he muttered, tightening his grip on his bag. “You’d think they’re plotting our downfall or something.”

You shrugged, amused. “Maybe they’re intimidated by your incredible potion-business ideas.”

Lucas grinned. “Obviously. The Slytherins can sense power and ambition from a mile away. They’re jealous.”

The common room was unusually quiet for a Saturday evening, the fire crackling softly as you curled up in your favorite armchair with a book balanced on your lap. The faint chatter of students coming and going was a distant hum in the background, and for once, the usual chaos felt like a comforting lull.

You were only half-paying attention to the words on the page, your mind drifting to the slug club party later that evening. The dark purple dress you’d bought with Lucas hung neatly over your trunk upstairs, waiting for the moment you’d finally have to face the reality of being Tom Riddle’s date. It wasn’t exactly something you could forget, but for now, you tried to focus on your book.

Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the story, a familiar, weighty thud landed on the armrest of your chair. You looked up to find Shadow—your mysterious cat—perched beside you, his green eyes blinking at you like he’d been there all along.

“You,” you muttered, putting the book down and reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “You’ve been missing for days. Where have you been?”

Shadow didn’t answer, obviously, but he let out a soft purr and nuzzled against your hand as if to make up for his absence. You smiled, feeling a strange wave of relief at his return. Even with his habit of disappearing, shadow always seemed to reappear at the moments you needed him most.

“There you are!” Maeve’s cheerful voice rang out, and you looked up to see her, Alicia, and Lilith coming through the portrait hole. Lucas trailed behind them, holding a box of what looked suspiciously like contraband sweets from Honeydukes.

“We’ve been looking for you,” Maeve said, flopping onto the couch across from you. “Lucas said you were probably reading, but I thought you’d already started getting ready for the party.”

“Not yet,” you admitted, scratching shadow under his chin. “Trying to delay the inevitable.”

“Inevitable?” Alicia repeated, raising an eyebrow as she plopped down beside Maeve. “You’re going as Tom Riddle’s date. That’s not inevitable—it’s gossip gold.”

“Or terrifying,” Lilith added quietly, her brown curls bouncing as she sat cross-legged on the floor near the fire. “I mean, he’s… scary.”

“She’ll be fine,” Lucas said, waving his hand dismissively as he dropped the box of sweets onto the table. “If anyone can survive an evening with him, it’s Y/n. She’s practically unshakable.”

You gave him a dry look. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’ll need it,” he replied, smirking as he popped a chocolate frog into his mouth. “But seriously, it’s just a party. Plus, you’ve got the best dress in the castle. Riddle will look like a second thought next to you.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” you said, rolling your eyes. “As long as I outshine the future dark lord, all is well.”

Your friends laughed, and for a moment, the tension you’d been carrying all week eased. Shadow hopped off the armrest, stretching lazily before curling up at your feet, his purring filling the space between your banter.

“So,” Alicia said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “Are we all meeting up after the party to dissect every awkward detail?”

“Obviously,” Maeve said, grinning back. “This is too good to miss.”

Lucas sighed dramatically. “You know, sometimes I think I’m the only normal one in this group.”

“Normal?” you shot back, arching an eyebrow. “You’re the one who suggested starting a black-market potion business during herbology.”

“She’s got you there,” Lilith murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Lucas huffed, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Fine. But if Riddle tries anything shady, I’m hexing him. Rules be damned.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, smiling despite the knot of nerves tightening in your chest.

Shadow let out a low, rumbling purr as if to say he agreed, and you scratched his ears again, feeling oddly comforted by his presence. No matter what happened tonight, at least you wouldn’t be facing it completely alone.

You stood in front of the mirror in the Gryffindor girls’ dorm, smoothing out the dark purple silk of your dress as you took a shaky breath. Tonight was the slug club party, and while part of you was excited for the evening ahead, while a heavier feeling lingered underneath—a strange mix of dread and curiosity about spending the night as Tom Riddle’s date.

“Okay, let’s see it! Give us a twirl” Alicia’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned, showing the full length of your dress to your friends. Alicia’s grinned, her green eyes lighting up as she clapped. “You look stunning, Y/n! Riddle’s not gonna know what hit him.”

You rolled your eyes but did as she asked, spinning in your dress. The fabric flowed around you, brushing your ankles, catching the soft glow of the room’s candlelight. It was simple, but elegant, and it felt… right. Yet there was still a knot of nerves coiling in your stomach.

Lilith, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, gave you an approving nod. “Seriously, you look incredible. And if he doesn’t appreciate it, well… he’s an idiot.”

“Or, you know,” Maeve said with a smirk, “He’s just Tom Riddle, and he doesn’t appreciate anything.”

“But, honestly, Y/n, you look amazing,” Maeve added, standing back to admire her friend.

You let out a laugh, trying to mask the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “Thanks, guys. but… it feels weird, you know? like, I want to go and have fun, but with him?”

“I just…I don’t know. I kind of want to go, but… Riddle as my date? It’s… complicated.”

Alicia laughed, shaking her head. “You think? He practically just told you that you’re his date, didn’t even ask if you wanted to go with him. Sounds about right for him.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t exactly give ‘polite,’” Lilith agreed, her brows knitting together. “But you don’t have to be around him all night, y’know? Stick with Lucas and his date. He’ll be there, and you can just make a night out of it.”

You sighed, playing with the hem of your dress. “That’s the plan, honestly. But… Riddle just has this way of… getting under my skin.”

Maeve snorted. “I mean, he’s intense. I can see how he’d get under anyone’s skin. But look, just… don’t let him intimidate you, yeah?”

Alicia leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And if he starts acting all dark and mysterious, just give him one of those looks you do. The one where you look unimpressed by everything.”

You laughed, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, I think that’ll be my go-to tonight. I’ll probably need it.”

Lilith smiled softly, her eyes filled with warmth and a hint of pride. “We’re serious, though. You don’t owe him anything, okay? He’s your ‘date’ because he decided he is, but that doesn’t mean you have to feel pressured. It’s just one night.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a mix of gratitude and reassurance. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Maeve hugged you quickly before stepping back. “You won’t have to find out. We’ve got your back—even if we’re not there. and if Riddle gives you trouble, just remember: you can handle yourself. No one messes with our girl.”

Alicia gave you a little nudge toward the door, grinning. “Go knock ‘em dead, Y/n. you’re going to have an amazing time—even if Riddle is… well, Riddle.”

You took a deep breath, smoothing out your dress one last time. “Alright. Here goes nothing.”

As you left the room, your friends called out goodbyes and last-minute pieces of advice, and you felt a small surge of confidence. Yes, he was intense, and yes, he had a way of unsettling you in ways you couldn’t quite explain. But tonight, you had friends who had your back, even from afar.

The castle was alive with energy as you walked through the halls, your heels clicking softly against the stone floor. Lucas was by your side, his usual mischievous grin replaced with a faint look of concern. “Don’t worry, Y/n,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. “If things get too weird with Riddle, you know I’ll be there to pull you out.”

“Thanks, Luca,” you replied, though the tightness in your chest told you there was no simple escape from whatever would unfold at the party. “But if things get too weird, I might just disappear into the punch bowl.”

Lucas laughed, but his gaze lingered on the door ahead. “If you need a distraction, I’ve got the best one in mind. I’ve already got some tricks up my sleeve for Slughorn.”

Before you could respond, a figure emerged from the shadows near the entrance to the party. You felt your heart skip a beat when you saw him—Tom Riddle, tall, imposing, his dark eyes catching the flickering light as he leaned casually against the stone wall. For a moment, everything seemed to slow, as if the world itself had taken a collective breath.

Riddles’s gaze flicked over to you the second you stepped into his line of sight, his lips curling into that infuriatingly smug smirk. He didn’t even spare Lucas a second glance.

“Ah, Y/n,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, yet carrying an underlying sharpness that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “I see you’re finally ready for the evening.” his eyes never left yours as he spoke, completely ignoring Lucas standing beside you.

“You look... okay, Y/n.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow, a frown tugging at his lips. “You could at least say hello, Riddle. It’s called manners.”

Riddle’s gaze flicked briefly to Lucas, but only for a moment, barely acknowledging his presence before returning to you. “Manners, Creevey?” he repeated, his tone bored, as if the concept didn’t interest him in the slightest. “You’ll excuse me if I have more... pressing matters to attend to.”

Before Lucas could respond, Riddle stepped closer to you, his presence suddenly overwhelming as he reached out and took your arm, his grip firm and possessive. “Shall we?” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Your breath caught in your throat as he began to lead you away from Lucas, his fingers warm against your skin, his touch sending an unexpected jolt through your chest. the tension in the air thickened as he pulled you further into the grand hallway, the buzz of the party growing louder.

“Hey, don’t forget about me!” Lucas called after you, his voice laced with an edge of irritation.

Riddle didn’t even look back. “Of course, we wouldn’t want to forget about your entertaining presence,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. The way he said it made you feel as though you were already stepping into a different world—one that was far removed from Lucas and your friends.

As the two of you approached the doors of the party, you felt a sudden surge of nerves, your heartbeat picking up its pace. It was as if the walls of the castle were closing in around you, the weight of Riddle’s gaze heavy on your back.

When you stepped into the grand ballroom, Slughorn was waiting near the entrance, his jovial expression lighting up as he spotted you. “Ah, here they are!” he boomed, his round face flushed with excitement. “The charming Y/n and our guest of honor, the ever-elusive Tom Riddle!”

Riddle’s lips curled into a tight, enigmatic smile as he bowed his head slightly. “Professor,” he said smoothly, his voice as calm and controlled as ever. “I’m honored to be here.”

You gave a tight smile, not sure whether to feel nervous or irritated by the way Riddle was behaving—calm, collected, but almost too detached for comfort. Slughorn beamed at you both, clearly enjoying the spectacle of the night.

As Slughorn led you further into the room, introducing you to a few other guests, you felt Riddle’s fingers gently tighten around your arm, pulling you just a little closer to him. “Don’t get too comfortable, Y/n,” he murmured lowly, his breath brushing against your ear. “I’ll be the one to decide how comfortable you get tonight.”

You shivered involuntarily, a mixture of annoyance and something else you couldn’t quite identify flooding through you. You managed to keep your voice steady, though your pulse raced in your ears. “And if I don’t want to play by your rules?”

Riddle’s smile deepened, his eyes dark with an unreadable emotion. “You’ll learn to, eventually,” he said with a soft laugh, the sound sending an icy chill down your spine. “We all do. It’s just a matter of time.”

Your breath hitched.

Before you could reply, Slughorn was back at your side, beaming at both of you with a glass of champagne in his hand. “Ah, the perfect pair! Tom, Y/n, you two are going to be the highlight of tonight, I can feel it!” he said, his voice booming above the music. “You’re like a shining star, Riddle,” he added, addressing Riddle with an exaggerated wink. “And Y/n, my dear, you’re simply glowing tonight. Glowing, I tell you!”

You gave a tight smile, feeling Riddle’s gaze still lingering on you as Slughorn chatted animatedly, clearly enjoying the attention. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of something possessive, something dangerous—that sent an uncomfortable shiver through you. The feeling was unmistakable.

The room was buzzing with energy, the soft clinking of glasses, the low hum of conversations, and the elegant swirl of music filling the air. Slughorn, as usual, was floating between groups, effortlessly charming everyone around him. You, however, found yourself slipping away from the crowd, subtly scanning the room in search of someone.

Lucas had been acting unusually off tonight, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with something more subdued. He’d mentioned earlier that someone had asked him to the Slug Club party, and ever since, he’d been on edge, occasionally glancing across the room as if he were searching for someone.

You couldn’t help but wonder who the mysterious person was. It had to be important if it was causing Lucas, the master of wit and sarcasm, to lose his usual calm. You caught sight of him standing near the punch bowl, chatting with Cressida and Maeve, but his gaze was fixed elsewhere—across the room.

You tried to focus on the scene, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being drawn into a curiosity you couldn’t fully explain. Trying to mask your distraction, you turned your attention back to the room, but your gaze involuntarily flicked toward Lucas again.

“This is getting a bit sad to look at, don’t you think?” Riddle’s voice was smooth, his tone oozing amusement as his sharp eyes locked on you. He was standing so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. “I’ve been watching you watch him. Curious about who he's looking for, aren’t you?”

You stiffened, trying to ignore the sudden prickle of unease as his words seeped into your mind.

“How about I save you the trouble?” Riddle continued, a slight smirk curling on his lips as he leaned in just a little closer, his voice low and chilling. “His name’s Jace Fenwick. A sixth-year Hufflepuff. Somewhat popular, though a bit of a loner when it comes to socializing outside his little friend circle.”

You stared at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “How do you even know this?”

Riddle ignored your question, continuing with unsettling ease. “Fenwick doesn’t really have the best reputation. You see, his father’s a wizard who supports the ‘dark side’, though he’s kept it quiet—surprising, considering the family’s connections. He’s been known to flirt his way into getting what he wants, but never quite manages to hold anyone’s interest for long. He’s been eyeing Lucas for a while, though I suppose you could say the feeling is mutual. He’s the kind of person who likes to think of himself as a knight in shining armor, always trying to rescue the underdogs, but really, he’s just after the thrill of the chase.”

Your pulse quickened as you tried to absorb the torrent of information Riddle was throwing at you. “Why would you even know all of this?”

Riddle’s gaze darkened, his eyes glittering like polished stones in the dim light of the party. “I observe, L/n. It’s a habit of mine,” he said casually, almost too calmly. “You should really stop wasting your time wondering. It’s a little too obvious.”

You weren’t sure if his words were meant to unsettle you, or if he was simply indulging in his usual method of rattling people. Either way, it worked. You felt your heart beat a little faster, a strange mix of irritation and discomfort swirling in your chest.

“Did you even ask Lucas if he wanted you to interfere with his personal life?” you shot back, trying to keep your composure.

Riddle raised an eyebrow, his expression never faltering. “If I didn’t interfere, how would you ever know the truth about anyone, hmm? Especially a person like Lucas Creevey.” He paused, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper as he added, “It’s not exactly a secret that he’s not as invincible as he likes to believe.”

You swallowed thickly, biting back a retort. You didn’t need to hear more about Lucas’s life from him. The unsettling calm with which Riddle delivered his revelations made you uneasy. He wasn’t just reading people; he was dissecting them with ease, like a magician pulling apart the strings of a carefully crafted illusion.

“And here you are,” Riddle continued, his gaze never leaving you as if savoring every word. “All caught up in someone else’s drama. Does it bother you? To see the people you care about distracted by their own petty games? You’ve become rather… fixated on him, haven’t you?”

Your lips pressed together into a tight line. “I’m not fixated,” you said sharply, though your tone wavered slightly under his stare. “Just concerned.”

“Of course,” Riddle said, his voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Concerned. How noble.” He straightened up then, his posture almost regal as his eyes lingered on you. “Tell me, Y/n, are you always this… naive?”

“Do you see someone else in him?”

Yes. Harry.

You blinked, your mind spinning with the tension that had suddenly thickened between the two of you. His words, while meant to provoke, felt like something much darker, as if there were a deeper meaning lurking beneath them. You couldn't tell whether he was mocking you or simply enjoying the control he seemed to hold over the conversation.

Before you could respond, he offered you one last lingering glance, his lips curling into that knowing smirk.

“Anyway, the party’s waiting. You should enjoy yourself tonight,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But don’t forget—I always know more than you think.”

With that, he turned on his heel, walking away as though he hadn’t just stripped away every ounce of comfort you'd felt about tonight.

As you watched him leave, you couldn’t help but feel unsettled, the fragments of his words replaying over and over in your mind. He knew too much. And, strangely, you couldn’t decide whether that terrified you even more… or intrigued you.

The party was winding down, the soft strains of music from the orchestra fading into a low hum, and the chatter of students gradually thinning as they gathered their coats and prepared to leave. You had spent most of the evening trying to keep your distance from Tom Riddle, still wrestling with the unsettling pull he had on you and the fear that he was, in fact, the very creature you had learned to despise—Voldemort.

But despite your best efforts, your gaze had often strayed toward him across the room, the way he carried himself with such eerie confidence, the way his dark eyes seemed to lock onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Every time you tried to leave his orbit, he would reappear, always speaking in a way that left you breathless, or even more confused than before.

Now, as the party came to a close and the last guests began to file out, you tried to make your way to the door, hoping to slip away quietly and forget the unnerving conversation you’d had earlier. But just as you turned the corner of the corridor, you found yourself face-to-face with him.

Riddle stood there, his figure silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. His eyes glinted in a way that made your heart skip a beat, and you froze, instinctively taking a step back.

“Leaving so soon?” His voice was smooth, almost too calm, like he’d been waiting for this moment. “I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “I was. But it’s getting late, and I—”

“I’ve been studying you, Y/n.” Riddle’s words cut through your excuses, his tone suddenly serious, leaving you no room to avoid him. “You’re different. In a way that’s difficult to ignore.” His gaze flicked over you, the piercing, calculating intensity making you feel exposed, like he could see right through you.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you swallowed hard. “What does that mean? What are you talking about?”

“You’re not like the others,” he said, a slight edge to his voice. “You’re not easy to read. You don't act like the others in your little group. There's something beneath the surface, something…” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, “…intriguing.”

Your breath hitched at his cryptic words, a mixture of confusion and wariness settling in your stomach. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Riddle,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way he was looking at you made it difficult to concentrate.

“I think you do,” Riddle said softly, his voice almost a whisper, like a secret just between the two of you. “But you won’t admit it. Not yet.”

You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Something in his voice, something about the way he was speaking, felt like a challenge—a game he was playing at your expense. But despite your growing unease, a strange part of you was compelled to hear him out.

“Stop playing games,” you said, trying to hide the uncertainty creeping into your tone. “What do you want from me?”

Tom took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t want anything,” he said, his voice low and tinged with something darker.

“At least, not yet.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could form the words, he reached out, his hand brushing your cheek with an almost unnerving gentleness. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as your body responded to his touch against your will.

“And what if,” he began, his voice now a mere breath, “I wanted to see what would happen if I took a little more than I should?”

Your stomach twisted, and you could barely process his words before he closed the space between you, his lips crashing against yours in an unexpected, forceful kiss.

Time seemed to stop. Your thoughts scattered, leaving you dizzy and breathless as you stood frozen for a moment, your body in complete shock. His lips were soft yet demanding, pulling you into a kiss that was far too consuming for your mind to catch up with. The weight of his presence—his power—pressed down on you, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to melt into it, unable to tear away.

But as soon as it had started, he pulled back, his eyes dark with something unreadable, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His fingers lingered on your cheek, tracing the outline of your jaw as if he were memorizing the feel of you beneath his touch.

You blinked, still reeling, your mind in a whirlwind. Your breath was ragged, your chest rising and falling unevenly, and you struggled to make sense of what had just happened. But as your heart hammered in your ears, you realized one thing clearly—nothing had felt the way you thought it would. You had expected revulsion, disgust, fear. Instead, something different stirred inside you, something both thrilling and terrifying.

“You really are a puzzle, Y/n,” Riddle said, his voice now softer, more deliberate. “I think I’m starting to like the challenge.”

Your mind raced, trying to process his words, the kiss, and the way your body still felt the lingering effects of his touch. But then it all came rushing back—he was Voldemort. The person you were supposed to hate. The monster who had caused so much pain and suffering.

And yet, you couldn’t deny the fact that he’d kissed you.

But you didn’t have time to think about it. The hallway seemed to close in around you, and you found yourself taking a hesitant step back, your thoughts a jumbled mess. The weight of the moment hung in the air, thick with tension and unanswered questions.

“You’ll understand in time,” Riddle said, his voice almost teasing as he took a final, lingering glance at you. “I promise you, Y/n—this is far from over.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless, confused, and aching in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

The world around you felt too heavy as you tried to collect yourself, but one thing was certain—everything had just changed between you and Tom Riddle.

i am SO SORRY it took so long to update 😓😓- go to taglist request to be added, otherwise you will NOT be added

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space-cowgirllll · 2 months ago

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I did boy mom Abby during the fall so you know I had to write some domestic fluff for Ellie too 🫶🏻🎃🍂

let’s ignore that I’m posting this less than an hour before Halloween is over 🥸

"Mama no! That's Rex's chair!"

"Well I don't see his name on it." The soft thud of the stuffed animal hitting the carpet is followed by the stomp of a tiny foot.

"Mama!"

You lower the volume on the halloween music playing on the tv, watching your wife get locked in stare down with a mini version of herself. Margo's legs wobble on unsteady plastic heels and the pink material of her dress wrinkles as she places her hands on her hips. Ellie had managed to squeeze herself into one of the bigger dresses in your daughter's closet, the thing looking like it was about to bust at the seams whenever she moved. Her tiara lopsided as it slowly slips off her head.

From the color of their hair to the slope of their noses, it was actually scary how alike they looked at the moment. Their profiles damn near identical.

The two stare at each other from opposite sides of the coffee table where a "spooky" tea party was being held with hot chocolate and Halloween cookies. Action figures and stuffed animals line the sides, with the newest addition to your little family sitting at the head of the table. Your seven month old son, Theo, sits in his infant chair watching the drama unfold as he chewed on a yogurt puff. His little body swallowed up by the tulle of his dress, with a sparkly clip in his short hair. Neither you nor Ellie able to save him from the older sister effect.

"He's a stuffie, he can't even eat the cookie." Ellie says matter of factly, reaching over to fix the girl's tiara.

The four year old's eyes shift from Rex's spot to her own empty plate, nodding in understanding. "Get more from mommy." she whispers loudly, pointing to where you stand at the counter with a fresh batch. Their eyes widen at the sight of the tray in front of you.

Ellie has a full blown one sided conversation with the infant in her arms, stopping at the large window facing your backyard. She points out the swing set under the large tree in the far right corner.

"Pretty soon you'll be out there with mama and margo having competitions on who can swing the highest." She bounces the infant on her hip.

"Mama cheats." Margo pipes up from the living room.

"I do not!"

Ellie jumps to defend herself, launching into story after story about the times she's lost to the four year old. Theo watches her in fascination, his eyes glued to Ellie's face. Your wife never stopped talking, and you swear it's the reason Margo's vocabulary is as good as it is.

You pretend to ignore Ellie as she saunters over to where you stand at the kitchen island. Her front presses up against your back, lips pressing against your bare shoulder as she reaches for the cookies. "Don't mind if I do."

"I do mind, actually." You push her away. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Oh c'mon just one more."

"You said that like five cookies ago Els." Taking the baby from her arms, you move the tray further away from her grabby hands.

She pouts. "So you hate me."

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes, pulling her in for a kiss. "How about you two go wash up and you can have one more AFTER dinner." The little hand reaching for the tray pauses, slowly retreating when you pull it further away. Ellie snorts as the culprit click clacks back towards the couch.

The doorbell rings, pulling your attention away from the kitchen. Ellie moves to stir the soup currently simmering in the pot, ignoring your warning look.

"Babe, did you order something?" You question, staring at the large plastic bag on your front porch. The logo didn't look familiar, her name is on the label when you squint.

"Oh, yeah! This wasn't supposed to come until next week." The package is snatched from your hands, a flash of pink and purple fly past you and down the hallway. Your two dogs manage to slip in the room just before the door slams shut.

"We're the only sane ones here bub." You turn back towards the kitchen, undressing the infant and placing him in his high chair. He babbles happily while you clean up the mess on the counter.

It's then that you notice the two cookies missing from the tray. Your wife and daughter's muffled giggles reach your ears.

"Ellie!"

———

"Okay oneeee more for Grandpa Joel."

"No more." Margo pouts "Papa has lots of pictures already."

The three of you wait impatiently as Ellie props her phone up against one of the steps on your front porch. She rushes back to where you stand as the timer counts down. Her hand reaches down to adjust the dog's dinosaur costume, the hood covering his eyes.

Theo sits happily in the wagon your wife had spent the last week turning into a little cage. His little green dinosaur costume just thick enough to keep him warm from the chilly weather.

You quickly make sure your pink button up is tucked properly into your shorts. Ellie gives you a grateful look when you push the hair out of her face. The two of you smiling just as the timer goes off, praying that the kids were looking.

Your wife had insisted on picking out the theme for Halloween this year. Knowing she had at least one year left before your already opinionated daughter decided she wanted to pick out her own halloween costume. With how busy you'd been at work you happily let her take charge.

And that's how you ended up wrangling a family of dinosaurs out the door.

"Let's go!"

You bite your lip when your daughter wobbles in her inflatable dinosaur costume, the head throwing her off balance. Her little hand reaches for Ellie's, dragging her down the driveway and out into the throng of people already out trick or treating. Pink plastic pumpkin swinging at her side.

The four of you make your way through the neighborhood, you and Ellie taking turns walking the kids up to knock on doors.

Like most four year olds, Margo gets tired after a couple of streets. Her plastic pumpkin now full of candy. Theo snoozes away in his wagon, checks rosy from the cold.

"Last house?" You point at the tiny craftsman at the end of the street.

Ellie gives you a thumbs up and follows after Margo as she hobbles up the path towards the front porch.

“Well aren’t you two the cutest.” The elderly woman sitting on one of the steps gushes. “Matching costumes!”

She reaches into the big yellow bowl, pulling out a full size candy that has the little girl’s tired eyes widening.

"A big candy! Thank you!" She clutches it in her tiny fist, rushing back to where you stood on the sidewalk.

The elderly woman laughs at the way her costume wobbles as she runs down. "Is that your family?" She asks pointing to where you stand.

"It is." Ellie smiles.

"They're so cute." She gushes, patting her arm. "You're very lucky."

Ellie watches you gently pry the melting chocolate from your daughter’s grasp, putting it in her overflowing bucket. Theo now perched on your hip, a big gummy smile on his face at the sound of his big sister’s voice as she bounces around dancing to the loud music coming from down the street. The two dogs swore she didn’t want sat at your sides.

Ellie’s heart warmed at the sight. Her smile widens.

"Yeah, I am."

—

"Margo's finally down." You sink down into the spot next to Ellie on the couch with a sigh. A hand reaches into the plastic bag on her lap where you'd dumped all the candy, digging around for the full size candy bar from earlier. Your wife searches for a movie to watch, clicking through multiple streaming apps.

"Told you we shouldn't have let her have that second lollipop before bed." She mumbles through a mouthful of chocolate. Her eyes glued to the tv. You stretch out on the couch, legs thrown over her lap.

"Nothing scary." You remind her. "Don't need you waking me up to walk you to the bathroom at 3 AM again."

"That was ONE time!" Ellie scoffs, but quickly exits the horror section. She sprawls out on top of you, her head resting on your chest.

“No cartoons either.” You press a quick kiss to her hair. “Get enough of that with the kids.”

You settle on Hocus Pocus after ten minutes of bickering only for the two of you to end up asleep only fifteen minutes into the movie.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x you #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader

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mygnolia · 3 months ago

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TASTE OF LIFE. l. heeseung

THE TALE GOES...heeseung is invisible to everyone, robbed of recognition as people pass through and never acknowledge him. to live as a shadow who observes is hard—heeseung sinks into corners and simply wishes for a chance to be a part of something. but when you finally come to the biggest halloween party of the year and see him, he can’t help but be attached.

pair -› lee heeseung x fem!reader | trope -› horror, literally no fluff | warn -› major character death, violence, stalking | REN SAYS.. first installment! also this is shit guys im so sorry I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT ASAP ugh writing this much lowk killed me </3 | 3k words | library

---

Mediocre. Normal. Ordinary.

That’s exactly how you’d describe the house that stood before you, with your bags tightly held in both hands as you ascended the few stairs to the porch. It felt like any other house, and you’d even compare it to the old one you were in.

The previous home was different in one major way—it added years of aging onto your parents somehow, as if something had sucked the life out of their minds. It drove them crazy to stay home, and you couldn’t help but be embarrassed every time they mumbled in public about going home.

They looked crazy. You just had to droop your head and pretend you didn’t know them.

Your parents’ eyes lit up when they entered through the door, with wood flooring and a color scheme that reflected on their preferences. It was almost identical to your other house, so why exactly did they choose to move to a home that was no different than the last? If anything, you were just glad they were starting to feel more comfortable within the new space. It felt breathable, and something about the old place you lived in felt dirty and plagued.

It wasn’t much of a struggle as you began to unpack the bags of clothes and boxes of items you brought with you, considering how little you cared about accents and decorations. With furniture already there, your room felt akin to your other one, but something was off. You tried to move the desk over to the window to gauge the effectiveness of the natural lighting, and when your curtains gave way to slightly clouded rays of sunlight in your room, you hummed with some satisfaction. Good enough.

As Halloween came around, you understood how much everyone in the local town loved to celebrate. Houses on your way to school were filled with webs, lights, and jack-o-lanterns, and it made you believe that the pumpkin farm on the outskirts of town had a smart business model. On top of having an abundance of fall flavored desserts, the Yang family held the biggest party of the year, seeing as their son went to the same high school of yours.

You had only heard whispers of the annual Yang Halloween party, rumored to be the best party of all time, was something you were looking forward to every year, even anticipating the post-celebration news to hit you from the town over.

The day neared, and you got more and more excited to finally get to know people ever since you arrived in town. People knew of you as the new girl, but no one reached out, all too consumed in their own cliques to introduce themselves to you.

—

“Taste,” you told the man waiting outside. “The password is ‘taste.’ “

The windows were tinted in red as moonlight streamed through one side of the building. The rest of the house was dark, with only flashing orange, purple, and green lights strung carefully to add to the mysterious ambience. Music blasted from the speakers and shelves were lined with decorations, ones that you were careful to avoid knocking over as you slid your way between crowds. There seemed to be never ending snacks, as people with tattered black cloaks always managed to keep the drinks filled and the rows neat.

It was obvious that the family knew what they were doing when it came to throwing parties—you hadn’t seen one person without a smile on their face. The festivities like horror rooms and games were all through-out the floor, and there was always something for everyone to do.

You fell into conversation with a few people, cutting it short as you excused yourself to the restroom. Down the same hall was a door that was left ajar, and you went to shut it before returning to the boy who you just met.

“Hi.”

You jumped back, eyes darting around as you searched for someone to match the sudden voice, and you heard a small curse in the same direction. Your feet were frozen as you only looked around, your hand still on the knob of the empty restroom as you hoped someone would come to break you out of your stupor.

There was nothing, you promised yourself, and the door shut with a click. Still, your gut swirled with fear as you slowly turned, anxiously rubbing the goosebumps on your skin.

“You can hear me, huh?”

You knew the sound was coming to your left, where the flashing lights were nowhere to be found. All you had was the phone you fished out of your back pocket before you saw a flash of something pale. You immediately turned, trying to find it once more.

You could’ve sworn there was something.

“Hello?” You probably looked insane to any bystander, calling out to the dark when you swore you saw something nearby.

To both your surprise and horror, someone floats through the closet door, his limbs passing through as a grin makes his way onto his features.

You’d think the ghost in front of you was attractive, if it wasn’t for the fact that you were experiencing something supernatural for the first time.

Bile rose in your throat as you became disoriented looking at the figure. With a yelp that caught confused stares from only a few people nearby, you scurried out of the house, bumping into bodies as the door grew closer and closer.

Like a bubble about to burst, the house feels stuffy and humid until you open the large doors, swallowing the cold air of the night like a lifeline. Your head spins with confusion, and you can’t seem to understand what you just saw until he seeps through the wall once more.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” You yelp at the sound of his voice, taking a few steps back as you look anywhere but his sullen face.

The sound of your heart won triumph over anything else as you kept trying to make space between you and the creature in front of you. When he begins to glide closer, you take it as your sign to grab your small clutch and begin a brisk walk back home, no matter how dark.

“My name is Heeseung. No one’s ever seen me,” he explains, easily drifting behind you.

“Get the fuck away from me, Heeseung.” Your voice sounded shaky as the wind rushes past your ears. You felt hopeless, unable to hear his footsteps or gauge where he could be.

He’s right next to you, speaking directly to your profile all of a sudden. “Please, no one’s recognized me since I died. Please, you have to help me.”

The change in proximity has you jumping from being frightened, and you try to cover your ears to block out his voice.

The worst part of it all was that Heeseung could touch you. You felt the cold of his fingertips without the pressure of his mortality in his fingertips. Effortlessly drifting next to you, he worked to pry your fingers from your ears as a plea for you to hear him out.

“I don’t care. Leave me alone.” You began speeding up, seeing your house in sight and the ghost beginning to fall back in his misery. You didn’t care about it, only wanting to go home and pretend everything was a bad dream. While the ghost wasn’t ugly by any means, the supernatural facet of his identity kept you up as you feared the creature outside your window at any moment.

What you didn’t know was that your gut feeling was right–Heeseung wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted.

—

You didn’t know what was louder–Heeseung’s voice in your ear, or the thudding of your heartbeat.

Your scream echoed around the empty house when he appeared for the second time, your heart dropping as the lack of sleep you got from the night before made you even more on edge now. Everytime you looked down a corridor, shivers racked your body and you were unable to go anywhere without a flashlight. You swore you saw him in the corner of the room, and if not–something was horribly wrong with you.

There he was again, staying by the edge. “Please, get away from me, I can’t give you what you want, Heeseung.” You tried to keep your voice as steady as possible, as if you weren’t shaking from fear that you’d be joined by an intruder everytime you turned the corner.

You couldn’t shower or change without wanting to tear your hair out, and there was no way to quell the anxiety after you saw him stick an arm through your home.

There was nothing you could do. No one who you could go to about this. You were truly all alone.

Class felt like a blur with an ache in your head and an emptiness in your stomach. It was exhausting for you to dart around the room, waiting for him to appear.

He was waiting for something, you knew it.

You felt on edge constantly, like you were going insane. Every small movement triggered some sort of reaction, so much so that your classmates began to notice and snicker.

You felt like your parents–and you had no idea how to make it stop.

—

It was the third day of your sleepless torment. Your parents often left you alone according to their new work schedules, and you were still stuck having to hide from the apparition until you left for school. He looked torn apart, too, but you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t give you space. It got so bad to the point where you heard whispers of him in every corridor. You couldn’t stand it anymore, and your bloodshot eyes and scratched arms were a sign that something had been wrong ever since Halloween.

There was only one person you could tell about this, and you didn’t even notice how bad your fingers had been when you went to pick at the dry skin once more.

“Jungwon,” you mumbled as you passed him. He turned around, immediately recognizing you as someone he didn’t know much about.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concern knitting his eyebrows as you asked for him to talk with you outside.

Something was off that day. The clouds were gray, dipped with unease. The sky was bathed in dread, and Jungwon could tell something was wrong by the way you couldn’t find the sun no matter where you looked.

“What’s wrong, ____? You’ve been looking horrible ever since Halloween.” You flinched at the word, eyes stinging with tears as you were pushed back into thinking about that night. You never should’ve worn your black dress or added some cute cat ears. You never should’ve left the house.

“There’s something in your house, Jungwon,” you pleaded, your gaze frantically searching for any sign that Heeseung followed you. “It’s like a spirit, something happened and it won’t—“ your words came to an abrupt halt when you heard a chuckle from the boy in front of you.

A laugh tore through as Jungwon crossed his arms and looked at you with a pitiful grin. “You’re funny. Good prank, though,” he smiles, about to turn.

You had no idea what came over you when you went to grab his arm. Jungwon was practically a stranger to you, but one more sleepless night without a cure would’ve made you go insane if he kept following you. You needed to get rid of Heeseung.

“No!” Your voice rang out louder than anticipated, and the sudden shout made you wince, still holding onto Jungwon’s arm. “You don’t get it, something’s following me around, he keeps talking to me and no one else can see him—“

The boy yanked himself out of your grip, suddenly frustrated, and you feared the worst; Yang Jungwon would tell the whole school that you were crazy.

“Please, Jungwon—” you tried once more, “he’s real—he’s everywhere and I can’t get rid of him—it was because of your party,” at this point, your eyes were filled with tears as you begged your only hope from leaving. “You have to help me—“

“I don’t have to do anything for you, ____.” He sneered, growing impatient. “I don’t know who put you up to this whole prank, but you need to stay away from me.” He spun around, paying you no attention as you crumbled to a heap on the ground and sobbed hopelessly on the pavement.

The sky was darker than ever, and it was still afternoon.

Even as you walked down the empty dirt roads to your house, you couldn’t help but hear Heeseung’s voice ring in your ears. As you started running to push the sound out and replace it with your heavy breathing, your eyes began to shut with exhaustion. Slowing to an eventual stop in front of your house, you heaved, gasping for air that felt like it was escaping your lungs any moment as you held into the porch railing

“You’re home. What took you so long?”

Your vision was blurring slightly in the corners, and the corners of your eyes felt puffy. You were slipping out of consciousness, but you remembered that voice anywhere. “Get away from me, please.”

Heeseung pursed his lips, feeling slightly bad for the state that you were in. “I told you, I can help you.”

When you saw his pale shoes in front of you, your body reacted instantly, scrambling back to create some distance. You hadn’t registered that a wooden splinter from the floor cut into your palm until Heeseung saw the blood seep into the planks underneath you. The porch made no sound under his quick footsteps, and it only instilled more frustration at his lack of perceptibility. His sudden approach left you frightened as you waved a hand in the air, unable to feel the wound from the state of your body. “Go away, Heeseung!”

He frowned angrily. “Let me help.” He kneeled next to you and reached out for your wound before you yanked your hand back, stumbling as you got back up and tried to make your way to the entrance.

“Please, stop,” you cried, taking two steps towards the railing before your legs gave out. Heeseung tried to reach out for you again. But you pushed away his hand, the slap of the force making no sound. It was almost humorous how much your torture was one sided, but you had no more energy left to defend yourself.

Heeseung went to grab your wrist, worry etched in his features as your state deteriorated in front of him. You kicked his leg, hot tears staging your cheeks as you sobbed for him to leave you alone, but the more carelessly you moved, the more the large splinter dug into your hand. He begged for you to stop–to let him help you before anything bad happened, but you couldn’t understand through the sound of your own hysterics.

A mix of going days without sleeping, paired with your lack of appetite and delirium left you defenseless no matter how much you tried. You struggled against the ghost of Heeseung’s grip as he tried to stop you from hurting yourself even further. You felt bile in your throat when he was close, and you found the opportunity to yank your arm out of his grip. You underestimated the force, however, and your hand hit the wood behind you. Momentarily distracted, you focused on the blooming pain of the impact and the slowly trailing blood. It was out of body how you couldn’t process the sensation of your fingers tracing the messy wound, and you became a slave to your exhaustion as the boy came back.

You fought against him weakly, the blood from your wound becoming a larger problem the more you used your hands to do anything.

“You don’t get it!” He yelled, tears of his own forming from the anger of having to go against you.

Why couldn’t you just stop? Why did you keep pushing him away? You were selfish, trying to ignore him as if you didn’t understand his predicament. You were the only one who could’ve seen him, and he was the only one who saw you in return. “Even Jungwon doesn’t believe you,” he mumbled bitterly, seeing you slowly slip in and out. “You wouldn’t even help me, ____. It’s all your fault.” He talked as if you could hear him, the life in your eyes gone by the time he wiped his tears and finally looked at you, with your wrist going limp in his hold.

“I don’t get it.” He wept angrily, before getting up and leaving you there on the porch steps in a heap.

Heeseung turned to glance at you again, his semblance of a heart in pain from how things had to end up. “You seemed so nice–so promising. Jungwon swore we could've been friends.”

–

You didn’t know if it was possible to kill a ghost twice. After all, your death turned you into a floating apparition of yourself, as you watched your parents mourn their attempts to shield you from their own fate. Being a ghost wasn’t so horrible, but Heeseung was right; it was lonely.

When a voice calls your name apologetically from where you sit on your rooftop, your gaze settles on him with fury, and the moment you rush over to him and your fingers close around his wrist, you knew that you wouldn’t stop until you properly got rid of Lee Heeseung.

No matter how long it took.

i swear the rest of them will be better. and shorter.

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