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coff33andb00ks · 17 days

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More Than Anything - Part Two

oscar piastri x pop!singer reader x lando norris (with charles leclerc)

summary: In the spotlight's harsh glare, she shattered into a million pieces, then found redemption in an unexpected place warnings: language, smut (mdni!!) notes: i still hate doing smaus but this is fun

liked by charles_leclrec, landonorris, oscarpiastri and others ynyln: Surprise!!! Lover's End dropping in 3...2...1... Special thank you to all of you, my darlings, for your unwavering love and support over the past 6 months. (I'm only gonna post about Monaco and F1 for the rest of the week)

↳ user1: 'You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart' MY JAW IS ON THE FLOOR ↳ user2: MOTHER ATE ↳ user2: silver springs my FAVOURITE ↳ user3: so much anger in this EP ↳ user4: it's SO GOOD

"So you'll be riding along and having a normal chat with him. Pretend like the cameras aren't there. Feel free to ask questions about anything you'd like." The assistant lowered her voice. "Other than the PR photos at hospitality later and your interview Saturday about your history of loving formula one, this is the only formal thing you have to do all week, I promise."

"Thanks." Y/N nodded as the clip mic was attached to her blouse, grinning when she saw Charles approaching on a bicycle. Muffling a giggle when he nearly crashed into the side of the Ferrari waiting for him to give her the tour of Monaco, she greeted him warmly, thinking of their friendly chatting the night before at the Ferrari dinner.

"Are you ready to see Monaco?" Charles asked once a mic had been clipped to his shirt and an assistant had fixed his hair. He immediately ran his hand through it, ruining her work, and y/n grinned again.

"Absolutely."

He drove through the winding streets, stopping to point out the more famous sites – the hotel, the casino, the harbour – telling her stories from his childhood of watching the races, seeing the grandstands being built.

"Oh, you were always rich… I can't imagine growing up in a place like this," she said as he drove past the harbour which was filling with yachts. "But I guess it was all you knew."

Charles nodded, and she noticed he looked slightly panicked at her calling him rich. "I didn't appreciate how, ah… Privileged I was until I became a man. I'll show you my school?"

"Sorry, I grew up poor so I'm always fascinated when I meet someone who didn't. I'm well aware of how different my life is, but in my head I'll always be that little girl with no money at the book fair," she babbled.

He furrowed his brow. "Book fair?"

"Oh my god they were the best thing! You'd get a flyer with all the books they'd have available and the kids would circle everything they wanted. And there'd be things like posters and bookmarks and cheap little toys? Like a little bookstore set up in the school." She smiled at the memory.

"That is why you donate money to schools, yes? To help kids like you?" he asked softly.

Y/N smiled. "Exactly." She realized she was yapping as he drove through the streets but couldn't stop herself because it was something she cared about so much. And Charles seemed to genuinely care, nodding and smiling a little as she went on an on, to the point she didn't feel the need to apologize for her blathering.

"My school," he said, parking in front of a somewhat nondescript building. "I got into so much trouble here…"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Surely they were just inchidents?"

He giggled and she saw his cheeks darken as he pulled away from the curb. A few moments later, he asked, "You've traveled around the world. Do you have a favourite country to visit?"

She hummed thoughtfully. "You know… I've been around the world twice now. But I feel like I haven't seen any of it. It's always airport to hotel to media stations to venue and back again. I rarely get back home, though. So I'll say that's my favourite place to visit." She shifted in the seat to face him. "What's your favourite colour?"

He giggled again, tugging at his Ferrari polo. "I have to say read, no?"

Y/N grinned. "Ooo, the colour of love…"

The rest of the tour was filled with laughter and reflection, and they stood near the harbour chatting once they'd finished filming, discussing music and she got the feeling he was getting around to asking her out when someone walked by and Charles laughed, turning and calling out—

"Oscar!"

The man turned and y/n felt a giddiness rise in her stomach as she recognized him. His eyes were on Charles as they fist bumped and then his brown eyes swiveled towards her, widened, and…

"H-hi," he said, and she pretended to not notice the way his voice cracked.

Smiling, she held out her hand. "Hi, so great to meet you."

His hand was warm and strong and his cheeks were turning pink. "Ah." He cleared his throat, his cheeks turning darker, his hand still shaking hers. "Great t-to meet you t-too."

She felt the urge to giggle but refrained, continuing to shake his hand as she stared into his eyes. Next to her, Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just talking about her new music," he said.

They hadn't been but that seemed to snap Oscar out of his little stupor. His eyes widened and his lips quirked up into smile. He loosened his hold on her hand and she would have sworn she imagined his shaky exhale.

"Y-yeah, I listened this morning. It's great." Oscar rubbed the back of his neck. "As always."

"You're too sweet," she insisted, marveling when the pink of his cheeks darkened more. "I'm glad you enjoy it."

Charles looked from her to Oscar and back again, and she felt her cheeks grow warm when he smirked.

Oscar stammered – Oscar stammered! she would never get over him seemingly starstruck by her – out that he was a big fan of her music and she sensed him relax while she talked about recording in secret over the past few months. "Lando's a huge fan, too," he said, his cheeks still pink and his eyes still a little wide.

"Is he? I'd love to meet him."

He was already nodding. "Y-yeah, that'd be great. Y-you can drop by the motorhome anytime."

She felt the urge to play with her hair and probably would have if Charles hadn't been watching them so closely. "I'll do that, sure. Later on, after I do some PR stuff with Ferarri?"

Oscar's shoulders sagged and he was still nodding. "Excellent." He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck again. "I'll, um, see you later then."

As soon as he was out of earshot Charles laughed.

"I have never seen him like that around a celebrity."

Y/N watched Oscar disappear in the crowd milling along pit lane. "Really?"

Charles hummed and held out his arm. "You must have that effect on people."

"I really don't know why. I'm just me," she mumbled as she slid her arm through his to walk towards the Ferrari motorhome. "Well, no, I suppose I get it. It's just… Weird to think of someone notable being flustered meeting another notable person, right?"

"So you were flustered just now?" Charles hummed knowingly.

"Stop, he's one of my favourite drivers," she groaned. "I get flustered meeting anyone."

"You weren't flustered meeting me," he sighed with a dramatic wave of his hand.

"I was," she confessed, thinking of how anxious she'd been in those first moments after meeting him and Carlos the night before. Mainly because she hated formal, corporate affairs when everyone had to be on their best behaviour.

liked by charles_leclrec, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and others ynyln: things I've learned today: my aussie accent is shit 😔, oscar hums a lot 🤭, carlos refers to me as "la pequeña niña americana" 🥰, and when I sit in a f1 car I feel claustrophobic 😬 tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari

↳ carlossainz55: Sí, mi pequeña niña americana ↳ ynyln: 🥰🥰🥰 ↳ user1: do you even understand that? ↳ ynyln: no but it's spanish so I'm swooning ↳ oscarpiastri: I didn't say your Aussie accent was shit? ↳ ynyln: Lando did 😔 ↳ landonorris: it is? ↳ ynyln: you hurt my feelings ☹️ ↳ mclaren: Lando you should apologise ↳ scuderiaferrari: so rude ↳ ynyln: isn't it 🥺 ↳ landonorris: wtf 😥 ↳ user2: what was Oscar humming though? ↳ user3: probably something off the wall ↳ ynyln: it was the oscar mayer jingle ↳ mclaren: that was you ↳ ynyln: 🤫🤫🤫 ↳ landonorris: I'm sorry for saying your aussie accent is shit ↳ ynyln: I forgive you 🤗

Looking up from her phone after posting the recap of her day to instagram, Y/N smiled at Charles, enjoying the quietness of the evening. Leo was dragging his toy around, growling playfully each time Charles tried to take it away. She hadn't expected his invitation to dinner after the end of media day, but here she was in his apartment, the flavor of his thrown together pasta dish lingering on her tongue.

Charles leaned back against the couch, tossing the toy across the room for Leo. "It's none of my business…" He sighed and shifted to look at her. "But are all your new songs about him?"

She nodded. "Wrote them in a fit of rage, really. Except Flowers, I wrote that when I realized how better off I am without him."

He eased the toy from Leo and tossed it again. "I am sorry you had your heart broken."

Y/N chuckled. "Me too."

"Are you looking for someone new?" he asked after a moment. After Leo dropped the toy and flopped dramatically on the rug.

"I don't know." She lifted an eyebrow. "Why, are you interested?"

Charles laughed softly. "In a relationship, no."

She wasn't disappointed, really, but she gave him a pout. "My poor ego…"

Grinning, he moved, kneeling on the floor in front of her. "But I'm willing to…" He hesitated, finally resting his hands on her knees. "Fuck the memory of your stupid ex away."

Her eyes widened at his boldness. Before she could think of the reasons she should say no, she was nodding, moving to the edge of the couch as his hands slipped up. "I'm fine with something casual," she murmured, sliding her hands over his shoulders.

"That I can give you, cherie."

His kiss was gentle, lips and tongue working against hers until she melted. Guided by his hands, she slid off the couch as he stood, the kiss growing in intensity as he pulled her towards the bedroom. "It's been a while," she mumbled between kisses, her fingers hesitating at the hem of his sweater. "So like… Tell me if I mess up."

Charles huffed out a soft laugh, nipping at her bottom lip. "It is like riding a bicycle, hm? You'll be unsteady at first then get into the rhythm."

"Just don't expect me to ride, I'm so not into being on top," she admitted, relieved when he laughed, breaking away to peel off his sweater. His skin was warm under her fingers and she kissed him before pulling back to remove her top, keeping her eyes on his face.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, one hand cupping the back of her neck as he kissed her again, this time with growing urgency. His other hand was everywhere – at her waist, teasing the waistband of her jeans, ghosting over her ribcage, tracing the curve of her breast, flicking open the button of her jeans.

"Ah!" she gasped sharply as his fingers eased into her panties, his facial hair grazing her neck while his lips moved down. Her gaze landed on the mirror behind him and she stared at the muscles of his back as they rippled under her touch, her eyes slipping shut when his fingers began to stroke her slit at the same time his mouth closed around her nipple.

"Are you watching yourself, cherie?" he whispered against her skin, moaning when her fingers clutched at his hair.

"No… Watching you," she breathed. She opened her eyes, watching her hand trail down his back.

Charles laughed quietly, pulling his mouth from her nipple with a soft pop. "Can I watch you?"

Blushing, she gave a small nod, helping him unfasten his jeans while her heart thrummed excitedly in her chest. His lips met hers again, his hands working her jeans down her legs.

His blanket was luxurious, his sheets soft beneath her knees as he gently situated her so she faced the mirror. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he exhaled slowly, his hands framing her hips and sweeping upwards. "So soft," he breathed, eyes locking with hers in the mirror, breath hot against her skin.

Y/N could only stare at him in the mirror, feeling as though she were watching another couple entirely, the eroticism of watching his hands explore her body making her feel disconnected. Until he whispered in her ear. Gentle commands, fervent admirations that forced her to feel his touch as well as see.

His hand slipped down, cupping between her thighs, and she moaned sharply at the sight of two fingers sliding into her pussy. Reaching back, she groped at his hip, nails dragging across his skin before her hand wrapped around his cock, watching his face as he let out a ragged moan.

He spoke but she barely registered the words, already reduced to pitiful, needy whines, the live porn in front of her only adding to her desire, and when his fingers, slick, dragged to grasp her hip she leaned forward in anticipation. Still stroking his cock, still watching his face ass while she felt him shift behind her. Her thumb smeared precum over the tip of him and she was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath before he groaned into her hair, his hands nudging hers away. She lifted her hand, catching his eye in the mirror as she licked her thumb clean.

Her eyes automatically closed when he began to enter her and she whined as his hand reached up, cupping her chin and lifting her head.

"Look at your face, mon couer," he whispered.

Pure, wanton neediness. She nodded, licking her lips, clutching his forearm with both hands and forcing her eyes to stay open while he entered her slowly.

In a split second of clarity she wondered if her chin always wobbled during penetration.

"Magnifique," Charles panted against her ear, his hand sliding down to lightly rest just below her neck.

"Oh my god," she whined.

His other hand gripped her hip tight, fingers digging into her flesh. "Good?" he whispered.

She nodded, staring at his white knuckles at her hip. "So good," she gasped, shifting on her knees slightly. Suddenly keen to see more. The hand on her hip squeezed and he began a slow roll of his hips, fucking her slowly. Watching her body respond, watching the look on his face, she felt her toes curl, heat twisting deep in her belly.

Within moments the woman in the mirror was flushed. Trembling. Breasts bouncing wildly, lips parted. Charles's hand slipped up, gently cupping her throat and holding her upright and she licked her lips, hips pushing back against him, eyes rolling back each time his cock hit her spot. All she could hear was his harsh breathing and deep moans and the delicious, slick sounds of him fucking her above the sound of her own racing heartbeat.

"I'm—" She cut off with a sharp cry as the hand on her hip slid forward, fingers strumming her clit in small, hard circles. A split second later her eyes closed, back arching and a guttural moan emanating from her as she came, pushing her hips back harshly and grinding against him. Stars scattered behind her eyelids and her moan turned into a series of harsh cries as his fingers worked her immediately into another crest of bliss until she was whimpering.

"Shh shh shh," he soothed, his fingers slowing, hips still rolling against hers as he guided her down. He stayed over her while she shuddered and gasped, fingers sliding off her clit when she squirmed.

She had no idea what he was murmuring in her ear, his mixture of broken English and French lost on her as she struggled to catch her breath. But she nodded, clutching his forearm until the world around her seemed to right itself, opening her eyes to see him staring at her in the mirror.

"Très magnifique," he whispered, both hands sliding over her back as he sat upright. His eyes met hers again and he gave her a smirk that very nearly made her cum again. "Now we can really have fun, yes?"

(reblogging with taglist in like 4 mins)

#f1 #formula 1 #oscar piastri #charles leclerc #lando norris #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri smau #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #charles leclerc x reader #my writings > mta

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eveningalchemist · 4 months

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Black Sails ended in 2017. Vine died in 2017.

Coincidence?? I think NOT!!!

[Video Description: a compilation of clips from Black Sails, with the audio replaced by Vines. transitions are a ship, the Walrus, exploding. a full description of each Vine is written beneath the cut. end ID]

I think we're gonna be friends kazoo kid vine over Silver and Flint in the we might be friends by then scene.

Screaming kid good morning vine over Joshua trying to jump scare Gates.

Don't fuck with me vine over Jack Rackham fighting for his first prize with another pirate captain.

The fuck this shit I'm out song over Silver watching Flint beat Singleton to death. Silver jumps overboard after.

The when will you learn vine over Max shouting at Eleanor during their break-up scene.

The yeet vine over Flint tossing Richard Guthrie's wig off the boat.

The free your mind vine over Vane's speech before he fights the logging camp leader. Fast-forward though the fight to Vane getting his face kicked in.

Sail! vine over a beautiful opening shot of the Walrus. A crew member shouts. Cut to the Walrus being blasted apart with cannon-fire.

Today I will be playing Mozart vine over Miranda about to play on her clavichord before being interrupted by Flint collapsing at her door.

Kitty! I want to sing you a song vine over various scenes of Randall and Betsy, the ship cat.

Do you ever want to talk about your emotions vine over Gates chastising Flint outside in Nassau, cut with Billy interrupting.

Gimme your fucking money vine over Eleanor arguing with a pirate crew, followed by Vane throwing Ned Lowe across his cabin, cutting to his warning sign that reads, I angered Charles Vane

Saw you hanging out with Katelyn yesterday vine over Billy confronting Dufresne about his betrayal, with pirates reacting in the background.

I am the sand guardian vine over Flint and Silver on the beach after the Walrus is wrecked, cutting to Dufresne walking away from them.

It is Wednesday my dudes vine over the island's Puritan priest practicing his sermon in a field looking distressed, overlaid with the scene of Miranda seducing him.

Barbecue sauce on my tittles vine over the scene of Gates and Flint drinking during the storm, with Gates giving a solemn speech. Cutting to Flint laughing drunkenly.

Welcome to Chili's vine over Anne going to Max's room, interrupted by Jack appearing while they are in bed.

Harry what's for dindin vine over a crew member walking up to Silver while he's giving his goings-on report. He punches Silver in the gut and Flint makes an 'oh' face.

Bop-It! vine over quick cut scenes of Jack, Anne, and Vane, including various fuck-you jack moments.

Welcome to my meet or greet vine over Colonel Rhett of Charlestown welcoming Flint into the city, unfriendly.

Dad look, it's the good kush! vine over Vane rolling a cigar, cutting to Blackbeard standing in his tent looking tired.

It's an avocado vine over Woodes Rogers receiving Eleanor's embroidery attempt.

Do you have any ice? vine over Thomas Hamilton explaining his plan to pardon the pirates to Flint, who looks baffled.

Somebody left an ice cube on the ground vine over Silver walking into Nassau's tavern to call-out the pirates for taking pardons. He hits Dufresne with a mug.

Get on top of the fridge vine over Flint yelling at Billy during the storm. Cut to Billy clinging onto a yard as the ship nearly capsizes.

Look at this graph vine over Silver trying to use navigation instruments and explaining them to Madi. Madi looks increasingly concerned.

Road work ahead? vine over Jack in Roger's carriage as they are approached by pirates on horseback. The carriage crashes.

You should get the orange soda vine over Eleanor and Max talking in her office after Eleanor's return from London. Eleanor is the orange soda woman and Rogers is the waiter.

Two bros chillin' in the hot tub vine over quick cuts of scenes of Silver and Flint, including sitting on the beach after the doldrums, staring at each other across a gap, and Madi in between them giving Silver a pointed look.

Release all of those sounds that are trapped in your mind vine over Vane talking to Eleanor while he's in prison. Cut to Eleanor screaming in the corner.

The fuck is in the air vine over Jack arriving in Boston and complaining about the snow.

I love you, bitch, vine over Vane getting punched by Eleanor, then getting a noose slipping around his neck as she watches.

It's finals week vine over Silver scenes across all seasons, from pleading his innocence in season 1, to getting his leg removed, to trying to save Muldoon from drowning, and then pulling a gun on Flint in the final episode.

#black sails #black sails edit #black sails crack #vine edit #loud warning #blood tw #described video #my stuff #almost every transition is the Walrus exploding because 2010s and something something every action leading to inevitable tragedy #anyways hope y'all like how it loops :]

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hanasnx · 9 months

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MINORS DNI 18+

When you’d married Ward Cameron, you did it because your family assured you that you would never have to worry about anything again. What you didn’t account for was how much of a problem his son would become. Now Ward is gone, and there’s nothing you can do to reign in RAFE CAMERON, especially because he never respected you.

You’d come home from practice in your little tennis skirt and he’d ignore you when you’d politely greet him. You’d try to reach out to him, garner a relationship but he just pushed you away and shut you out. So you stopped caring, you stopped trying. When he gives you dirty looks for wearing barely any clothes in the house to clean or cook breakfast, you tune it out. You try your best to make sure you’re not ever alone with him.

Push comes to shove, and during a heated argument he confesses. “You know what my problem is? I got a stepmother who’s my age.” The crease in your brows deepen, a mountain-load of pent up emotions threatening to landslide as you take a wary step back. “I don’t get it.” he muses, without expecting a response. He follows you, advancing every time you back up. “What’s a thing like you…” Generously, his eyes scan down your figure, and you feel stupid for wearing so little. You’ve never felt so naked. “doing here if not for money?” Slowly, he reaches behind him. You know Rafe’s tendency to be unhinged and you raise a hand to him as if to encourage him to stop.

“Rafe. What are you doing?” you question, but he purses his lips to shush at you. Soft and quiet. Scared, you listen, swallowing hard.

He pinches a fold of cash in a silver clip from his back pocket, pulling it out and into your view. “This what you want?” He raises his brows. He wiggles the money enticingly, and it bends back and forth.

About a million things run through your mind, all shades of shock and offense, but you’re still fearful of what he’s capable of. You know what he’s been up to lately, you know he’s snorted something by the light dust on the tip of his nose. You just want to leave. “Rafe—“ Your hand in front of him is snatched by the wrist, and you look to it, instinctively tugging it back. He tightens his grip and you claw at his fingers with increasing vehement. “Rafe, let go. Rafe, stop, you’re hurting me.” Unyielding, he lets you ache, and he fights for your eye contact chasing it with his head.

The cash is tossed at you, hitting your chest and falling pathetically to the floor. You stop to stare at it. You can feel his gaze burning you, and he straightens to his full height. “Go on. Have it. Jus’ suck me off and it’s all yours.”

#tw stepcest #tw drug mention #indy: drabbles #ch: rafe #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x you smut #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks smut #outer banks x reader #reader insert

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

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twst x zoff glasses collection (post 2)

***Please note:*** Sharing merch images + news is not intended to encourage and/or to pressure anyone into making purchases. It is up to the individual consumer to be informed and to choose how they spend their money.

Tumblr only has an image limit of 30 per post; you can see the first 4 dorms' glasses designs in this post.

This is a collection of 7 glasses frames, each themed after one of NRC's dormitories and all the same price (14400 yen).

Each pair of glasses comes with an original case and a cloth to wipe your lenses. The original case is the same for every design, but you will get a cloth with a design unique to the dorm you selected.

The Pomefiore glasses have poisoned apples (Epel) and crown-inspired engravings. There is an arrow motif (Rook) along the temples. The foiling includes Vil's dorm leader crown on one side and a heart with a knife stabbed through it (Vil's hair clip) on the other side.

Ignihyde's signature skulls are in the front. The temples have a futuristic design of a blue triangular pattern. The temples end with a flame, similar to the hair of the Shrouds.

There are bat wings (Lilia) near the temples' hinge ends. There are also thorny vines and lightning (Sebek) wrapping around the temples. A sword (Silver) is stamped on one side and a dragon (Malleus) is stamped on the other side.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst merch #twisted wonderland merch #notes from the writing raven #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Pomefiore #Ignihyde #Diasomnia #Vil Schoenheit #Epel Felmier #Rook Hunt #Idia Shroud #Ortho Shroud #Malleus Draconia #Silver #Lilia Vanrouge #Sebek Zigvolt

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staytinyville · 3 months

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Ride It Like Hydraulics (MDNI)

↣ Summary: Hoshi has a huge following which he makes well money off of. But that don’t mean he doesn’t love when others spoil him.

↣ Characters/Pairing: Hoshi (Soonyoung) x Reader

↣ Genre: Mature (MDNI)

↣ AU/Trope info: idol!Au, CEO!Reader , Sugar Mommy!Au,

↣ Word Count: 2.8k

↣ Warnings: sub!Hoshi, Sugar baby!Hoshi, Sugar mommy!reader, dom!reader , mommy kink , blow job, face sitting , cum play

↣ A/N: NOT BETA! Inspired by the Song Tyrant by Beyonce. Honestly I’ve had this since I first heard it a few days ago and I was like: Subby boys?? Fuck Yeah. Also I can get behind the whole sugar baby hoshi agenda. The last part had me fucked.

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @k-labels , @k-vanity

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

A tired sigh fell from your lips as you leaned back in your chair, arm slung over the back of it and your legs spread wide open. You nails tapped on the wooden table in front of you as you waited for the rest of your board to finish up what they were talking about.

Your phone pinged off to the side, making you turn to look at the notification that had popped up. Your wallpaper was visible from behind the transparent message that caught your attention when it said Attachment 1. The dark lighting photo on your device had you sighing, picking it up to take a look at what was sent.

Swiping up your tired eyes held a bit of playfulness as they scanned over the shirtless picture of a man on your wallpaper. He was sitting on the floor scooted up to a mirror. His lips were formed into a pout as half of his face was covered by the phone he was using. His broad shoulders were on display, allowing you the chance to view his chest and smooth skin.

You smiled lightly, opening the messaging app to find a picture from the exact man you had as your wallpaper. It was another mirror picture, but this time he was fully clothed. He leaned over a bathroom sink to showcase his neck to you. His head was leaned back, allowing you to see the thin diamond encrusted silver chain you had bought for him the other day.

It laid down across his collarbones, not too long but not too short to look like a choker. It fit him perfectly along with the other jewelry his stylist must have made him wear for today’s schedule. You smiled to yourself, saving the picture before moving to send a reply his way.

You : did you like my gift?

He was quick to start typing letting you know that he was waiting for your reply as you knew he would be.

Kitty : i made sure to have the stylist fit my outfit with it

Kitty : have to show it off to the others and the fans

Looking up you noticed that all the other members of your board were in their own conversations going over things. You took it as a moment to get up and leave the room, giving them a bow of your head and ‘a have a nice day’ before making your way to your office.

Now that you were finally out of the confines of the stale hot room, the cooling system in your office allowed you to breathe better. Dropping down into your desk chair, you slipped your feet out of your heels and allowed your body to relax. You went back to your messages with Hoshi, smiling to yourself at the selfies he always sends you.

You: can i see it without the outfit?

Kitty : whenever you want.

Leaning back in your chair, you popped open some buttons on your blouse, allowing your bra to come into view. Lucky for you, since you enjoyed getting the fancier ones that had clippings in the front, you unhooked it allowing your nipples to harden with the cold air. Moving the cups around, your boobs squished together, allowing everything to show as you tilted your phone out in front of you.

You : i am in desperate need of you today. can you make it after your schedule?

Kitty : for you and those always

It felt good to get rid of all your business clothing and just strut around your home naked without a care in the world. But what felt even better, was having your pretty boy withering under you as you languidly sucked on his cock. Watching his chest rise up and down rapidly as his face scrunched up in pleasure.

“Mommy…” Hoshi cried quietly, huffing as his eyes opened just enough to look at you.

You looked up at him, cock hanging from your lips as you hollowed out your cheeks at a slow pace. You took your time, allowing your tongue to go over every inch of him as you took your own pleasure from just having him in your mouth.

With Hoshi laying down on the bed, his legs spread wide open to accommodate you, your back was arched allowing him to see over your back and to your ass sticking out. Your manicured hands ran along the inside of his thighs, lightly messaging into the skin which caused him to moan at the feeling. Each time you would grow closer to his dick with your hands his legs would indistinctly try to fall more open and allow you more room to move your hand.

You popped him out of your mouth, his face scrunching up in a groan. You began to pump him as your tongue fell out to lick a long stripe up from his balls to the tip. When he whimpered you moved lower, sucking on his balls softly and using your tongue to move them around.

This caused him to move his hips, thrusting forward into your hand as his whimpers grew louder.

His lips formed a pout, huffs coming out. “Mommy, ‘wanna touch you.”

You pulled away from him, leaning up as you licked your lips. “My pretty kitty.” You pouted playfully, lightly scratching up his chest and to his neck that was covered with the chain you gave him.

You gently tugged on it, getting him to realize that you wanted him to lean up. He was slow in his movements but he listened to you either way, coming up to you with hooded eyes. His hands immediately went to the fat of your ass, palms gripping them with all his might as his head dropped down into your chest.

His lips latched onto your nipples, kitty licking at them as he played with the hard buds. Your hands made their way to his blonde hair, lightly scratching at his scalp that had him swallowing. Little noises of content seemed to fall from his lips and you were sure if he was actually a cat he would be purring from your affection.

His tongue flicking at your nippled once more had you smiling to yourself as you looked down at him. Your knees were placed on either side of his thighs, trapping him between you. You scooted closer, crawling further up him to have the tip of his cock touch your heat.

Hoshi whimpered around your bud, suckling like a baby as he pawed where he could.

“Kitty, what do you want?” You asked him softly, cooing as you rubbed at his cheek.

“But you were the one who had a rough day.” He looked up at you with wide eyes, a film over them as lust clouded his vision.

His chin was placed between your breasts, fingers continuing their message into your hips and thighs as he seemed to be in a sub headspace.

“Giving my baby boy the best kind of pleasure is the best thing to help me.” You smiled holding his chubby cheeks in your hands.

You smooshed his cheeks together getting a grin from him. “Such a perfect little boy.” You leaned down giving him a kiss.

“Can you sit on my face?” He asked quietly, hand moving to lightly rub at your wet slit.

You hummed, thighs clenching and unclenching with his ministrations. Your hips moved just a bit, humming as you pretended to think about his request.

You giggled when you noticed his pout, rubbing his nose against yours in a Eskimo kiss from how adorable you found him. “Anything my baby boy wants.”

He grinned, a bright red taking over his face. You let go of him for a moment, slowly pushing him down and crawling up his chest along the way. He quickly made himself comfortable looking up at you with sparkling eyes.

You smiled, thinking he looked like a kid waiting for ice cream with the way his eyes sparkled. But you knew it wasn’t because he was about to get a sugar high, it was because he was about to have some of his favorite food. The way Soonyoung ate you out with gusto let you know just how much he enjoyed having your pussy in his face.

Having him eat you out in every position available was something you would never get tired of. And when your pretty kitty asked you so nicely to sit on his face you were more than happy to oblige the good boy.

You placed your knees on either side of his head, legs digging under his arms to get more comfortable. He quickly moved them up to grip onto your thighs, shoulders flexing from how he seemed to tighten his grip on you. You chuckled at his eagerness, rubbing a hand through his scalp as you gave him attention.

He hummed tongue swiping against his lips as he stared at your pussy before looking up at you expectantly. If there was something you knew about the man was that he had a set of lungs on him so you were more then generous when it came to sitting on him.

He moaned when your pussy came in contact with his lips. And he got even more eager when you started to use his nose and tongue to your pleasure. Your hips moved back and forth huffs falling from your lips as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Soonyoung was humming against your lips, tongue lapping at your entrance before going back up to find your clit. You groaned, eyes falling down to look at him as on of you hands moved to the headboard to hold yourself steady.

“My good boy.” You moaned. “Always making mommy feel so good. Her little prince—deserves everything.”

Hoshi moaned out at your words, eyes falling shut as he sucked even harder at your clit. Your hips stuttered, eyes falling shut as a loud moan came from your chest. You began to cry, shifting back and forth in small intervals as you pressed hard on his face.

Soonyoung didn’t care though, he knew you were close so all he did was shove his face deeper in you as his tongue probed your hole.

“I’m cumming, kitty. Gonna make mommy cum.” You told him.

And as a moan fell from your lips, one came from him as well as your juices flowed from you. He lapped you up, not caring to allow you space from over stimulation as he knew you always told him to clean you up after cumming. He was more than happy to have his favorite dessert.

You sighed loudly as you pulled back from him, his head falling onto the pillows and tongue lapping at his chin. You say back on his chest, the cold silver chain touching the warm skin of your thighs. Stretching your legs, you scooted down him again, placing his cock between your pussy lips.

He was breathing steadily, waiting for the next part patiently like the good boy he was. When you settled down, you gave him a tired smile reaching up to wipe at the slick on chin with your thumb. He didn’t let you get far, pulling your finger into his mouth to suck.

You smiled gratefully leaning over to give him a kiss. He let you push your tongue into his mouth, swirling his own around with yours before sucking on it.

Pulling back you sat up, hand running down his chest and toned stomach. Your nails scratched at his skin very lightly, enough to give him a buzzing feeling. You couldn’t mark him but you still loved how sensitive he got to your touch just as much.

Soonyoung’s hips lifted up just a bit, allowing his dick to slide between your pussy lips as it rubbed against you. You giggled, lifting up just a bit as your hand went to pump him.

“Want mommy to ride you?” You asked quietly, pumping him harder.

“Please. ‘love it when you ride me.” Hoshi whined, eyes scrunching up as he panted.

“Of course, baby boy.” You cooed.

You took his cock and lined him up with your entrance. His breathing was ragged, fingers gripping onto your hips tightly as you slowly lowered yourself down on him. As his tip popped in you hummed, squeezing your core with each inch you took. Soonyoung began to pant, letting out little noises as he felt you throbbing around him.

“Such a good boy.” You moaned, placing your hands on his chest as you sat down all the way. Your eyes squeezed shut, groaning from how good he felt to have inside you. “Taking all of mommy.” You moaned.

“You feel so good.” Hoshi whined, lips forming a pout.

He suddenly thrust his hips upwards, making you shift over him. You let out a whine, nails lightly scratching at his skin. You huffed, moving your hips back and forth slowly. Your thighs began to burn but you weren’t focused on that.

You were focused on the little faces and noises Soonyoung would let out each time you would clench down on him or have his tip brush against your walls. You were high off his looks–finding pleasure in how you can bring him down to nothing but whimpers and whines.

You began to speed up your hips, moving back and forth quickly which lead to him withering in the sheets.

You chuckled, spreading your knees out just a bit more as you suddenly lifted off him. His eyes shot open, crying out when you slammed back down onto his hips.

“Don’t sto–op.” He cried, feet planting themselves into the bed.

His hips rose and his legs pushed himself up each time you rose to chase after your warmth.

“Mommy…” He cried, fingers digging into your flesh.

“You gonna cum, kitty?” You moaned, hand reaching out for his cheek.

Tears bubbled at the edge of his lash lines, making you moan and wipe at the ones the fell down his skin.

“Feel good?”

“So good!” He threw his head back, swallowing hard. “You feel so good! ‘Wanna cum.”

“You wanna cum?” You leaned back down, allowing him to take his moment. “You gonna cum in mommy, baby?”

You heard his words get stuck in his throat, but when he felt you stop bouncing on him, he was quick to grab your hips and start pistoning his hips up into you. You fell forward to push your chest into his face, his lips immediately latching onto a nipple. He began to whimper each time his cock thrusted into you–his fingers getting tighter around you.

“Kitty, you gotta tell me what you want. Tell me.” You demanded, lightly slapping his cheek.

“I’m cumming. Mommy, I wanna cum in your pussy.” He cried out, a tear falling down his cheek.

“Cum in mommy, kitty.”

You both moaned in sync–Hoshi letting out a cry while you whined from the warm feeling filling you up. Your legs tensed up, mouth falling open as your core clenched Soonyoung’s cock with each spurt he let out.

Hoshi began to cry, feeling overstimulated as you continued to bounce just a bit. His hips fell down onto the bed, whining as you tried to pull you off him. When you got what he wanted, you quickly got off him, turning onto you side as you spread your legs open.

“‘Wanna see.” Soonyoung lightly gripped your arm, shaking it with the strength he had left.

You turned to look at him, giggling at the sleepy pout on his face. But you obliged your pretty boy, turning around so that you were laying with your pussy facing him. Hoshi whined again when he saw his cum run out of you as you pushed it out.

Your muscles were still tense but you weren’t in a subspace like he had been. So when he reached over to push his cum back in you chuckled and threw your head back at your sweet boy.

“Want you to keep it inside.” He said quietly.

“I’ll keep my kitty’s cum inside.” You reassured him, moving to try and push his seed back in alongside his fingers.

He hummed, his breathing going down at being so harsh. He suddenly popped back up, leaning on his elbows as his legs spread open again. You smiled and made your way back up to him, giving him a sloppy kiss which had him reeling back.

Soonyoung was a dancer, even if he was in subspace, he was ready to go a few more rounds.

“What do you want this time for that one?” You hummed against his lips, fingers playing with his lips.

He gave you a grin, moving back in to kiss you.

“Are those new earrings?” Seokmin asked, trying to get a better view of the earrings on Soonyoung.

“Yeah.” Hoshi smiled, turning his head from left and right to give his friend a better view.

“And a rolex watch!?” Seungkwan gasped, pointing at the man’s wrist.

“And Gucci Loafers!” Soonyoung grinned, sticking his foot out to showcase his new shoes.

In case you didn't know, Hoshi came three time lol

Permanent Taglist : @ldysmfrst , @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @smilingtokki , @tinyelfperson , @wolfgurl2600-blog , @wannabecoolakid , @misshale21 , @aaniag , @wonuwrites , @asteriadaydreams

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asumofwords · 1 year

Text

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Well hello there my babies, hehe here is the little mini series I have begun for a modern!Aemond roommate AU. I'm super excited to explore this side of things as I have mostly been putting my focus into SFA. Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Hehe, slowish burn too <3 Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Christmas Beetle

The key scratched against the metal of the lock, your hand turning it as you opened the door to your flat, the smell of cooking curling around you as you stepped inside. From the kitchen you could hear your roommate Helaena humming to the music that played out of your speaker.

“Hel!” You called out, dropping your keys into the dish by the door, toeing your shoes off as you moved inside the apartment.

“In here!” Helaena sang back.

You moved your way down the hall, dropping your bag on the dining room table as you moved towards the kitchen.

Helaena stood barefooted in a singlet and pair of matching underwear. Her long silver hair piled atop her head, held together by a large butterfly clip.

“Whatcha cooking, good looking?” You asked, walking up behind Helaena who reached out to turn down the speaker that was currently playing Lana Del Reys ‘West Coast’.

Helaena turned her head, small silver butterfly earrings dangling from her ears, “Bolognese!”

The room smelt of cooking onion and tomato, and you breathed in deeply as she reached forward to put in some cut up carrots and celery inside of the ceramic large pot.

“Yum. God I love you.” You sighed, leaning back against the counter as you watched her stir in the ingredients, “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Absolutely nothing.” She grinned, reaching forward for the salt, sprinkling it atop, “Who else would feed you if I didn’t?”

“Hey! I can cook.” You frowned.

Helaena laughed loudly, “Mi Goreng doesn’t count.”

“I’ll have you know I can cook more than that.” You crossed your arms around your chest as you kicked a foot out to hit her shin softly.

Helaena jumped back, “Don’t be mean to the chef or you won’t get anything.”

You bowed, arm out in a dramatic flair, “Apologies, Your Grace.”

“Cut it out.” She pouted, “How was work?”

Hopping up on the counter, you groaned, “Don’t get me started. Larys was on my ass the whole day. Remind me why I work there again?”

“Because you need the money, and I got you the job.”

“It wasn’t just you that got me the job.” You grunted, “I have a great resume.”

“Of course you do.”

Tossing your head back against the cabinets you looks at the cream ceiling, “Ugh, how do you deal with Larys at all? He’s such a fucking creep. I swear he is always looking at me with those beady little eyes. You know the only time he has ever been nice to me was when he complimented my new shoes.” You scrunched your nose up at the thought.

Your boss Larys Strong was a man who made your skin crawl. Lanky, with a crooked build, the brunette man always had a way of getting under your skin, and you could always feel his eyes on you when you worked in the office. He hovered around other workers, asking personal questions and prying into everyone else’s personal lives, and yet you knew next to nothing about the man. A complete energy vampire.

“I’m sure he’s not that bad. Mum hasn’t said anything about him and she works with him.” Helaena pointed out, bringing the spoon to her lips to try to sauce. She hummed loudly as she dipped it again, hand beneath it as she offered you a try.

You leant forward blowing on the spoon softly as steamed poured off of it, “Yeah, but your mum isn’t the most observant person, Hel.” You sucked the sauce into your mouth, eyes closing as you moaned loudly, “Oh my god. This is heaven. If you weren’t my best friend I would marry you.”

Helaena blushed and took the spoon back from you, swatting your thigh on the bench, “That ship has sailed.”

You laughed loudly at the memory, “How was I supposed to know you were hitting on me? You said I looked like a Christmas beetle.”

“Christmas beetles are beautiful.” Helaena said indignantly, “They have many different colours and shades, and in the sun they glow.”

“Don’t you go soft on me, Hely.” You teased, kicking your legs against the cabinet with a thunk, “Besides, you can’t butter me up with this home cooked meal no matter how good it is. I can’t believe you’re leaving me here alone.” You whined, throwing your head back, “And on break too!”

“Life is a cruel mistress.” She mocked you, “You won’t even notice I’m gone." A pale hand waved itself at you in the air in dismissal, "It’s only for the month, maybe even less than that. You know I have to go see Daeron, he’s been studying at Old Town all by himself, the poor thing.”

“Yeah well, not all of us can get into the prestigious Old Town University.” You huffed, “And I will notice you’re gone, who will cook me dinner?”

“I thought you said you could cook.”

“Hel, you wound me.” You grabbed the front of your shirt above your heart dramatically.

Helaena snorted, “Suck it up. Besides, my brother is going to sublet the room for the month so you won’t be alone.”

“Hel,” You whispered, head tilted in uncertainty, “Please don’t tell me Aegon is moving in. I love you, you know this, but your brother is a sex pest. Last time he came over he called me a Gazelle.”

“A Gazelle?”

“Said I have long legs.” You grimaced.

“Ugh. Gross. He is such a manwhore.” You hummed in agreement as Helaena scrunched her face up, mouth open in disgust, “But no, Aemond is going to sublet the room.”

“Hel, that isn’t any better. Aemond?” You began, leaning forward as you looked at her uneasily, “'Can’t pry a word out of the man', Aemond? 'Messy break up with his crazy ex', Aemond? Hel are you punishing me?”

“Be nice.” She slapped your arm, adding fresh basil into the pot that simmered gently, “Aemond is sweet once you get to know him. He’s just shy.”

“The last time I spoke to him, I asked him how his day was and he just hummed at me. He hummed.”

Helaena laughed.

“It’s not funny, Hel! Who the hell just hums like that?”

A small laugh floated through her nose, “Look, Aemond was the only one I could get to sublet the room in such short notice. Especially someone I trust. Plus, he needs to get away from Harrenhal and move back to Kings Landing. Alys has really done a number on him, and I think if he gets some time away from her he will see it’s better that way.”

“Can't you ask your mum to cover the rent? You’re not exactly scraping by.”

The Targaryens were richer than most, descended from ancient royalty, even owning an island called Dragonstone, a short boat ride away from shore, where a large fortress sat atop. Helaena would sometimes go for the summer to see her cousins, and had even taken you one year.

“I don’t want anything to do with the family money. When I moved out, I made a promise to myself that I would make it on my own.”

You sighed, smiling at your best friend. She really was one of a kind, willing to go above and beyond for her friends and not freeloading from her generational wealth like her brothers did, “You’re a good person, Hel. But you’re putting my head on the chopping block.”

“Mm.”

“Not you too.” You whined.

“Better get used to it," She grinned, enjoying your distress, "Aemond will be moving into my room at the end of the week. So I expect you to behave yourself while I’m away and be nice to him.”

You gasped in mock offence, “I’m always nice!”

Helaena gave you a pointed look.

“Okay, well fine. I’ll be on my best behaviour for you.” You hopped off the counter, and put a hand on your chest and one in the air, “Scouts honour.”

“You weren’t a scout.”

“Never too late.” You grinned.

Helaena scrunched her nose at you, “You’re so annoying. Go shower, you stink.”

“I do not!” You said indignantly, turning your head to your shoulder to smell yourself.

“Well, there’s too many chefs in the kitchen and I want to have an everything shower tonight.”

You opened your mouth in mock surprise as you looked at her, a soft gasp leaving your lips. You crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at your best friend, “And who are you shaving for?” You wiggled your eyebrows at her.

Helaena blushed, “No one.”

“No.” You said in disbelief.

“Y/n-“

“Please tell me you’re not.”

Silence.

“Are you seeing Sara again?”

Helaena looked so sheepish as she went back to stirring the dinner, you moved to stand behind her, resting your head on her shin from behind as you watched her cook, “Hel, what are you hiding from me?”

“Go away, you big gnat.”

“I thought I was a Christmas beetle?”

“I’ve changed my mind. Plus you’re one to talk, I saw Cregan’s car out the front the other day as I left for work.” Helaena snipped, flustered and cheeks completely red. Her neck speckled with a blush that rose up from her chest.

“Glass houses. Besides, you can’t say the Starks aren’t scrummy.” You pinched her side and moved away from the kitchen, “I’m going to shower, and I’ll make sure to leave you some hot water so when Sara comes over tonight you’ll be all squeaky clean.” You teased.

“Shut it!”

The next morning you rose early to make yourself a cup of tea, you bumping into Sara on her way out of the house. The brunette was moving quickly out the door, hair knotted at the back of her head and lips blushed.

“Morning Sara.” You greeted her as she walked past you on the lounge, clearly not expecting to see you. You lifted your mug of tea up towards her in greeting and watched as her cheeks blushed a deeper red than the top she was wearing.

“Morning.” She responded, “Sorry, I’ve got an early class to get to.”

“Its Saturday.”

“Uh-” The Stark stuttered.

“And it’s break.”

“Oh, shut up." She smirked, "Tell my brother I said 'hi.'” Smile pulling downwards on her lips playfully.

You laughed softly in the quiet of the room, and bid her a goodbye.

Sara and Helaena had been on and off for longer than you had known Helaena, and was actually how you met Cregan. Sara had set it up after a night of drinking together, and Helaena had only encouraged you to ‘let your freak fly’.

Cregan was amazing. Tall, kind, smart and with a handsomeness that only Northerners had, with these dark brown eyes that you could get lost in.

But in saying that, you weren’t compatible in anything other than sex or casual friendship. You had been sleeping together for a few months when he wanted more, and you weren’t ready for that. And so you had ended the little tryst that you had, and parted on good terms. Amicable terms.

For a while, the two of you hadn’t spoken, letting Cregan have space from you to process what had happened, but eventually you had received a text to meet up for a coffee one day, and decided you were better off being friends.

Who fucked.

Occasionally.

Helaena exited her room shortly after, her silver hair messy and wearing an oversized t-shirt that hung to her mid thighs, a large centipede with a hat on the front.

“Good morning sleepy head.” You sang to her, watching as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Why are you up so early?” She grumbled, clearly not having gotten much sleep.

“There’s an antique market down in the square and I thought we could go and get some trinkets.” You smiled, watching as her eyes came alight.

“Trinketville.” She spoke in a high pitched voice.

“Yup!”

Shuffling her feet towards you, she leant over the back of the couch, “When does it start?”

“Started around 7.” You grabbed your phone to look at the screen, “It’s only 8:40, so if you quickly get dressed I can drive us down and get us a park.”

“Yay!” Helaena chirped, spinning back into her room suddenly alive.

As she walked away you called out to her, “Saw Sara sneak out.”

“Huh?” Helaena yelled back.

“I saw Sara this morning!”

Helaena stuck her head out from the door, hiding her naked body behind its frame, cheeks tinged pink, “Please don’t tell me you said anything.” She winced.

“I just said good morning.” You said coyly, watching as Helaena sighed in exacerbation before going back into her room.

“You know,” You called out, standing to put your mug in the dishwasher, “You don’t have to hide her in your room. I don’t hide Cregan.”

Helaena stepped out wearing a pair of pale denim overalls, and a soft yellow shirt underneath, socks and doc martins in hand, “Yeah well, you haven’t dated Cregan.”

“I mean we kind of did.” You shrugged, leaning against the side of the couch as she sat at the small dining table to put her shoes and socks on.

“Fucking him on the couch doesn’t count as dating.”

It was your time to blush, “Close enough.”

Helaena snorted, lacing up her boots, “Aren’t you going to get dressed?” She eyed you up and down, one brow raised.

You looked down at yourself. You were in an old busted t-shirt which had far too many holes to make it physically sound, and beneath you wore some old track pants and slides.

“Whats wrong with what I’m wearing?” You asked, offence in your tone.

“What’s right with it?” Helaena grimaced, “Go get actually dressed you slob. What if there’s someone cute at the markets?”

“I will have no time for cuties as I will be too lost in the joys of finding the ultimate trinkets for my collection.” You sniffed, raising your chin in defiance.

“Borderline hoarding at this point.”

You gasped, “Hey! Says you Miss Insects.”

“Go get dressed,” Helaena insisted leaving no room for argument, “Then we will head out. Do you think they’ll have coffee?”

You laughed, “Yeah, there should be a truck.”

When you were dressed and ready, you drove yourself and Helaena down to the markets, already full of people and bursting with life.

Many people brought their dogs with them and to your delight, an old man people called Maester Orwyle was seen walking his white Persian cat inside of a pram. The cat sat with her paws crossed in front of her as she watched everyone walking past, the occasional hiss given to the dogs that passed her or children who got too close.

Helaena giggled loudly as you both passed it, moving to look at another antique jewellery stand, Helaena’s eyes immediately spotting a small, gold, dragonfly pin. Its wings had emeralds on its tips and a larger one as its head.

She held the pin in her hand, uncertain if she should get it or not, the old man behind the table trying to sell it to her.

“It’s real gold, 14 karats. Real emeralds too. A pretty broach for a pretty girl.”

Helaena smiled politely though you knew she wished to move away.

“Come on Hel, when will you ever find something like that again?” You encouraged her. Her lip was caught between her teeth as she thought.

Looking up at the greying man behind the table, you asked for the price, “How much?”

“$70.” The man replied.

Helaena moved to put the pin back down, “It’s too expensive.” She said quietly.

“Nonsense.” You whispered back. “I’ll give you forty for it.” You looked at the man.

“Forty is too low. I’ll do sixty.”

“Fifty.” You counted.

“Y/n.” Helaena hissed.

The old man hummed as he look at the two of you before he nodded, “Fifty then.”

You looked at Helaena triumphantly and watched as she sheepishly gave the man the money, clutching the pin in her hand as the two of you walked away.

“I hate when you do that. It's so embarrassing. You’re like my grandpa.”

“Did you just compare me to Otto?” You grimaced, remembering your interactions with the stiff older man. He was rather cold, and barely spoke a word to you unless to correct you, but he would brighten up when speaking to Helaena considerably.

“You leave him alone, he’s old.”

You hummed in response.

“You’ll get along with Aemond just fine if you keep that up.” Helaena teased and you stuck your tongue out at her, moving to look at some old books.

You picked up an old heavy leather book, which looked to have been buried in dust. You opened the cover gently and looked at the front page. Your eyes widened.

“Helaena!” You hissed, grabbing her to your side as you looked down at the book in your hand, “This is a First Edition.” You quietly whispered.

“Looks like the worst edition.” She giggled and you elbowed her in the side.

“Seriously Hel, these are so hard to come across! It’s ‘The Lovers of Queen Nymeria’ too, this is like old old.” You explained, excitement racing through your veins, “These are seriously hard to get a hold of!”

“God, you and Aemond are the same. I swear my dad had that in his library.”

You snorted, “Yeah, well, not all of us come from royalty, Hel. I come from a long line of peasants, which I-“

“Oh, cut it out.” She griped.

You let yourself laugh, holding the book in your hands in wonder, “They’re probably asking for hundreds for this. God, I can’t believe I’m even able to touch it right now!”

Helaena looked up at the young man who had the stall, “Excuse me, could you please tell us the price of this book?”

“Hel, it’ll be way out of my price range.” You sighed quietly.

The man turned and came over, looking at the book in your hands, “I’ll give it to you for $20.” He said with disinterest, looking at the worn cover.

“$20?!” You said in disbelief, shock crawling through you.

“We’ll take it!” Helaena responded quickly, handing he man $20 from her small silver purse.

“Hel, I’m paying for it.”

“Nope!” She popped the ‘p’ as you moved away, holding the book in your hands in shock. “This is my gift to you, plus you saved me the money for the pin, aaaand you can take it as me buttering you up because mumboughtmeanearlierflight.” The last part of her sentance was speedily blurted as she turned to look at you, offering you a remorseful smile.

“You bitch.” You narrowed your eyes at her, “You’re lucky I love you.”

You walked side by side, looking at the rest of the stalls, finding some fun little things before the two of you decided to go home, exhausted from walking around in the hot sun for hours.

When you arrived back at the apartment, Helaena slumped onto the couch the two of you had found on the street years back. It was a light brown velvet, with dark wood detailing. An absolute classic.

The silver haired girl sighed, tugging her bag onto her lap as she begun to line up her buys of the day on the table.

You joined her, placing your book on the table followed by a small, vintage, golden mirror and a large candle holder for your room. Helaena had bought her pin, a small blue skirt with little green beetles on it, as well as a large framed Luna Moth.

You let your head drop to her shoulder, “I’m going to miss you.” You whined, tapping your head onto the bone of her shoulder.

“You big baby, I’ll be back in no time.”

“But you’re leaving me on breaaaak. What about all the hotties we were going to pick up at the bars?”

Helaena laughed loudly as she rested her head against the top of yours, “Plenty of time to do that when I get back.”

You grunted, “Don’t act like you didn’t tell me you are leaving earlier. You said end of the week.” You pulled away and looked at her with your eyes narrowed, “When are you leaving now?”

“Tomorrow.” Helaena sighed.

“Tomorrow?! What!”

Helaena began to fiddle with her hands in her lap, her pale fingers picking at the skin at her nails. You watched as Helaena became quiet, shut in, and a sudden wave of anxiety moved through you.

“Hel, what’s wrong? Has Sara done something?” You questioned, head dipping to try and catch her eyes.

“Dads sick.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at her, “Has he gotten worse?” You asked softly.

Helaena’s dad had been sick for a long time, when you had met her she was worried, but knew there was nothing that she could do. Her visits to her family home back then were frequent, but as time went on, her visits became less, and she had assured you that his team of carers and her mother could handle it.

“It’s not good.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” She gave you a sad smile, “It was going to happen one day or another. Mum wants us to go back to see them at the Keep, so I’m going to Daeron’s to get him and we will go together.”

“But what about Aemond? Will he be going with you?”

Helaena let out a quiet breath, “Dad doesn’t have the best relationship with Aem and Egg. Pretty sure my sister will be at the Keep with my nephews, and well,” She paused, and you knew why, “You know Aem doesn’t have a good relationship with them.”

You remembered the day Helaena had told you about Aemond’s fight with Lucerys when they were kids and the accident. You had felt terrible hearing the news, but now understood why tensions in the family were so strained. Not to mention that Helaena’s sister Rhaenyra, from his first marriage, was largely favoured over his other three children.

But from all accounts that Helaena had told you, Rhaenyra was a lovely woman, and incredibly kind to her.

You grabbed Helaena’s hand and held it, “Let me know if you need me to come, yeah? Or need anything of me. I mean anything. You need me, I’ll be there.”

Helaena gave you a gentle smile as she nodded, “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. Maybe you could come to the Keep and stay a week or something once I'm settled.”

“Will that hunky Criston be there?” You waggled your eyebrows at her.

Helaena's face morphed into disgust, “Ewww. I don’t see what you see in him.”

“What? He’s hot, plus him being your mums bodyguard makes it so much hotter.”

“He’s not her bodyguard.” Helaena argued.

“Sure, then he just follows her around like a lost puppy and is paid to look pretty. Anyhow, when is Aemond coming since you go tomorrow?” You rested your head back against her shoulder, fiddling with her hand in her lap as you wiggled her fingers with yours.

“He said he’d be driving his old chevy Vhagar in, so who knows how long that will take. If it doesn’t break down on the way.” Helaena snickered.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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ssweetleaf · 1 year

Text

old money.

pairing— mean old money!steve harrington x fem waitress!reader

w/c— 3.2k

♡ summary— whilst serving table number three for the evening, a certain someone catches your eye, though he soon turns out to be an asshole. you want more.

♡ includes— SMUT 18+, mean dom!steve, he’s an asshole, bathroom sex, so kinda public i guess??, pussy eating from behind, degradation, calls reader stupid once, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v (use protection!!!), breeding kink, cream pie, no aftercare, little bit of spanking, bad ending, i repeat, BAD ENDING!!!

a/n— please let me know what you think! i kind of hate this and there’s like not much plot but enjoy!

˖ ࣪⭑

Life was repetitive.

You’d wake up, leave your sorry excuse of an apartment just to go to work— some fancy-shmancy restaurant that served over-priced food and too-expensive wine, home for the big-wigs and the rich. And then you’d go home, back to your roommate, back to your creaky bed and your ceiling that had a suspicious amount of mould growing— back to your less-than-perfect lifestyle, dreaming of being one of those little flings that hung off the million-dollar men that stepped foot into your workplace, money signs everywhere and diamonds around your neck.

Shit— a girl can dream, right?”

And that was how it went, over and over and over again, letting slimy men pet at your ass and maybe show them a little too much cleavage, flutter your lashes at them all coyly just to earn a rather hefty tip at the end.

You were starting to get pretty sick of it…

“Good evening, gentlemen, is there anything I can get you started with?”

It was late and you were serving table three— a big gaggle of bozos you assumed to have more money than you’d ever have in your life, keeping your eyes wide and speech sickly sweet, leaving a little sway in your hips, keeping your eyes on the prize at the end. God, you hoped they tipped well.

There was six of them, clad in fine suits and sparkling tie clips, already fishing around in their pockets for a light, cigarettes hanging limply out the side of their mouths. Though one stood out in particular, chestnut hair that almost touched his shoulders, honeyed eyes all hooded and swarming, angry looking, especially with the way his eyes furrowed—

“Hey, you listenin’ t’me?” You shook out of your stupor, your cheek ticking when he clicked his fingers in front of your face, earning a few chuckles from his little rat-pack when he leaned back to say, “Jesus, can’t get the service these days, am I right?”

“Apologies, Sir,” you replied, “what can I get for you?”

You would’ve almost said he was handsome until he opened his mouth, his stupid flashy cuff links glinting from the lamp that perched in the middle of the tablecloth, monogrammed SH, his initials, you supposed. He called for the finest scotch you had— the most expensive, ordering a round of glasses for the table and the whole bottle to be served, nothing less, finishing off his sentence with a quick, ‘stat’. He definitely wasn’t asking, though you couldn’t let that deter you, he definitely had the money, you knew that by the size of his Rolex.

So you made priority for his table, serving their spirit on a silver tray and handing each of them a crystal tumbler, finely cut with intricate details and pretty patterns— not that they gave it any notice however, quick when ushering you to pour like they hadn’t the time to do it themselves.

It was all going smoothly, moving around table three and trying to gather the least attention possible, pouring the same two fingers of whiskey, until you got to him. Shy under his gaze you leaned forward, feeling the heat of his gaze on your tits and he was quick to sit up suddenly, causing your hand to slip. A little spillage, nothing drastic, and with the way his lip quirked you knew he had done it on purpose.

“Really are testin’ my patience tonight, sweet cheeks—” he cocked a brow, one arm spread along the back of his chair, “you tryin’ to get yourself fired?”

Oh, fuck off.

“No, Sir,” you spoke quickly, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down hard just to stop the tears slipping from the embarrassment. “I’ll clean it up right away— excuse me.”

Back and forth, back and forth. To and from their table, spilt scotch all cleaned, soaked up by the crisp white of the serving cloth, the swift dabdabdab had your tits jiggling from underneath your uniform, and you tried not to clench your thighs together when he leaned back to get a good look at your ass.

You couldn’t be serious, getting hot under the collar for some rich asshole, finding yourself all too sugary-sweet once again, gazing at him from beneath your lashes when he ordered his main, sharp jabs flitting from the tip of his tongue when you stalled or stuttered— it only had you down worse for him.

You really were pathetic.

Eventually, the night had started to round off to a close, tables emptying, though the bar still busy with drunk men hunched over in their stools, it was most probable they were complaining about their wives, trying and failing to flirt with the barmaids.

You hurried back to the table you were waiting on, plates ridden from the cloth and piled high next to the sink in the back, ready for the poor dishwasher to see too, placing down the wooden box they had requested, flicking up the golden hinges with your thumbs to reveal their pompous cigars, cutting the caps off and handing them out one by one.

“Light it for me, would ya, honey?” Him again, staring up at you all dark and handsome, it had you inwardly swooning and you made sure to give yourself a slap once you got home.

“Yes, Sir.” You opened the lighter, silver and sleek, watching the flame come to life and flicker while you cupped a palm to shield any draughts. His lips looked so pink, pursed around the thick stick, his gaze heavy and set on you, sucking his cheeks in when he took his first drag, inhaling into his lungs and puffing it out right into your face.

Prick.

You excused yourself, almost finished for the night, eager to have a smoke and then get to bed— probably touch yourself over the thought of him- SH, whatever his name was. You wondered what it could be, the thought of asking him crossed your mind and you quickly shook it away, totally pathetic and really, really embarrassing.

You would never ever stoop so low and try to get with him— no matter if his bank account included seven digits, or his face was the prettiest you’d ever seen, he wouldn’t be able to afford you…right?

˖ ࣪⭑

“Oh, fuck— Steve!”

You weren’t sure what it was that caused you to comply with his request, a short, snappy, meet-me-in-the-bathroom-in-five kind of thing, smirk prominent on his lips, a toothpick limply hanging from his mouth, much akin to the cigarette the first time you had pressed eyes on him.

But whatever it was, it had you pressed against the counter in the woman’s bathroom, skirt hiked up and panties around your ankles, his face snug against your pussy from behind while he devoured your cunt as if he hadn’t had a full three course meal beforehand.

You had learned through teeth-filled kisses that his name was Steve— Steve Harrington. And you almost rolled your eyes at what an asshole-y name it was.

The whole ordeal was messy, his spit slick with your arousal, slipping down his chin and the length of his throat, saturating his once perfect shirt and tie— you were no better, makeup already ruined, lining your cheeks in long, black streaks, clumping your lashes from the constant tears that ebbed over your waterline. You made contact with your glassy eyes through the mirror, staring at your dumbified state before they started to roll back at a certain mean suckle to your clit.

You reached behind you, pushing your fingers into his chestnut hair, going to give the roots a little tug before his palm came down on your ass in a sharp smack.

“Not the hair.” He was stern, words muffled from your pussy and you would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for the constant attention to your puffy clit. “Stupid girl.”

Steve’s tongue prodded at your hole, slipping inside with ease at how slick you were, the sudden intrusion causing you to clench around his appendage and you moaned out at the way it flexed against your walls.

You were surprised he even took the time to use his mouth on you, considering you thought he’d be selfish while you fucked, but the thought occurred to you that he enjoyed it— Steve Harrington ate pussy for his pleasure— it made a lot of sense.

“Please—” you whined, arching your back and simultaneously pushing your ass in his face, driving his tongue deeper into your cunt and he audibly growled at that— clutching at both ass cheeks and keeping you tight in place, right where he wanted you.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He spoke, it was almost hard to hear, especially over the way he slurped so crudely at your juices. “Wan’ me to pay more attention to that pretty little clit of yours, baby?”

You nodded, clutching tightly onto the edge of the sinks, knuckles aching from the constant tensing and you gazed at the door, no lock, just an emptying bar, and you hoped no woman wanted to use the restroom.

The mere thought of someone catching you in this position had your brain in a tizzy, swirling in a haze all hot and bothered, the prospect of losing your job not even encompassing your mind at all.

He stuck to his word, suckling the pearl of your clit between his lips, flicking his tongue against it and burying his face even further, shaking his head from side to side so filthily and urging a gasp out of you.

You knew he was smirking into you, you could feel it. Smug bastard.

And once you could feel the rope inside your belly tighten, tighter, tighter, so ready to snap— eager to cum and make a mess of his tongue, leave him to gulp down your cream and leave a little kiss to your clit as a thank you…he pulled away, biting at the fat of your ass and suckling his teeth marks into the flesh, your orgasm dissipating, the pleasure leaving your clit as achy as ever and the rest of your body completely unsatisfied.

You gulped down some much needed air, staring at him with wide eyes and a stuttering mouth, words stuck in your windpipe when you tried to speak, instead you hoped your expression conveyed what exactly you wished to tell him.

What the actual fuck, Steve?

“What? You thought I was gonna let you cum?” He cooed, mocking you with a pout and two condescending taps to your cheek once he got to his feet. “Y’seem a little desperate, honey, barely had my mouth on y’for two seconds.”

The smirk was back again, and yeah, maybe it had been the best head in your life, but it definitely wasn’t two seconds until you needed to cum. So yeah, fuck you, Steve.

There was a mindless pout on your lips, and you realised that must of been what he was mocking, your thighs rubbing together, still so slick and sensitive from your ruined orgasm and the way he spoke to you— all condescending and mean, it made you clench around nothing, made your cunt throb the more he spoke to you in that way.

“Please?” You were surprised the words managed to slip, staring back at him and craning your neck to see and it made him chuckle.

Steve clutched your chin between a thumb and forefinger.

“Aw, my poor girl—” he cooed, all sickly sweet and nothing like him, there was something behind it, a different meaning, though you weren’t sure what. “You wanna cum real bad, don’t ya?”

You nodded, sniffling back your un-shed tears and giving him your sweetest heart eyes, all wet and starry.

“I’ll let you cum, hon, don’t you worry.”

He gave another tap to your cheek, a little harder this time and you couldn’t ignore the little glint in his eye and the twitch of his cheek— then pressed a wet kiss to your mouth, an exaggerated ‘mwah’ coming from him at the action.

Finally, he started to work on his belt, fingers fiddling with the buckle to pull it free from the loops, pulling at the button to his slacks and unzipping them completely, letting them slip to his thighs.

And it was quite shocking, actually. Not only was he not wearing underwear, but his cock was huge— you hadn’t a clue how he even got that thing in his trousers in the first place, and you were even more baffled as to why you hadn’t had a good look at it before.

The tip was stupidly pretty, gleaming with pre-cum and you watched while he smeared it around with his thumb— his shaft all littered with thick veins, trailing down to heavy balls, so round and full of cum.

Shit, you thought, he totally had a reason for being such an asshole.

Steve pressed a big palm to your ass, spreading you open as much as he could with a single hand while his other held the base of his cock, pressing it against your opening and feeding it through with a chesty groan.

You could feel your walls stretching around him, trying to accommodate his impressive size all while he split you in half— he was mean about it too, pushing to the hilt and not giving you much time to adjust before pulling out, just to slam himself back inside.

So deep, so heavy— bordering on painful, but your pussy weeped for him and his pretty little massive cock.

“Fuck, look at you, bet you haven’t taken cock like this before, huh, baby?” He let a moan slip, and you were sure it was one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard. “So fuckin’ pathetic, lettin’ me use you like a little whore.”

Your eyes were practically rolling to the back of your skull and you reached behind you, grabbing blindly at any part of him you could find, until he brought his own hand up to press it to the small of your back, holding it there and using it as leverage to fuck himself into you at a heavy pace.

He had the audacity to chuckle at the way you cried out, struggling under his grasp though pushing back against him with each thrust to get even deeper, desperate for him to fuck into your cervix and fill up your tummy with his sticky cum.

“Shit— Steve—”

“Can barely string a sentence together, sweet cheeks—” he grinned, “you must really like me, huh?”

You were babbling expletives and nonsensical verses, staring back at him through the mirror with watery, swarming eyes— clenching around him like a vice, almost too hard and he struggled and spluttered at the new found sensation.

“Fuck, that’s it—” he moaned, dipping his mouth to sponge sloppy, wet little kisses to the back of your neck. “You want that tip, baby, you gotta earn it. Gonna give you a big one, too, if you’re a good girl.”

There was a double meaning — you were sure, whining out at his filthy words and it was when you eventually stared back at your reflection that you agreed with him.

You were pathetic.

Tears streaming, lips all bitten and pouty, cheeks sheened with sweat and your hair stuck to your forehead— the weight of your tits about to fall out of your bra, the buttons on your blouse already popped off mere minutes before when he got his hands on you.

‘I’ll buy you a new one’, he’d said.

Money. Money. Money. Money. Money.

That was all he was, all he spoke about, all he cared about.

You were close, embarrassingly so, keening into him when the mushroomed tip of his cock jabbed into that special spot, the thick veins sliding against your gummy walls and splitting you in two.

“G-gonna—” you could barely get your words out, sobbing into the stuffy bathroom and leaning forward to press your forehead against the cool mirror.

“Gonna what, huh? Speak up, hon.” You could hear his smirk and the way the corner of his lip lifted, all clicky and slick, and you would’ve rolled your eyes if you weren’t so inebriated from his pretty cock.

“Cum.”

“You wanna cum?” He cooed, pulling out right to the tip to slam back inside you, heavy and hard, pushing you forward and bruising your hips. “How badly? Gotta let me know how much of a whore you are.”

“So badly, Steve— make me feel so good, better than anyone else—” you babbled dumbly, “wanna feel you cum in me, too.”

“You fuckin’ dirty girl.” His stomach muscles clenched, length throbbing at your want, “wantin’ a stranger to cum inside you— just isn’t good enough, sweetheart.”

He tried to click his tongue at you, wanting to mock you and tease, though the tut soon morphed into some kind of stuttered groan when you clenched and fluttered around him continuously.

“F-fuck, you really wan’ it, huh?” His thrusts were starting to grow sloppy, and his hold on your arm grew lax. “You really want my cum— fill you up and get you nice ‘n’ round, hm?”

You nodded fervently, helping him out and doing most of the movements yourself, his mouth agape and face flushed when you stared at him through the mirror while he watched the space where the two of you met.

“Have to wait until I cum, then you’ll have your turn.” He rushed out, grabbing a good hold of your hips, kneading at the fat before pressing his chest to your back— starting his pace back up and fucking into you like a mutt in heat, chasing his orgasm with a heaving chest and a pumping heart.

One, two, three long pumps, he stilled inside you, shooting his load deep inside and stuffing you full of that old money prodigy, and you took it greedily, milking his cock of every last drop, whining out at the warmth that flooded your cunt.

“Fuckin’ take it, baby— can’t waste a drop, gotta keep it all in.”

You expected him to continue after he had stilled and calmed down a little, get you off and make you cum— however as soon as his high had worn off and all the sparkles and stars in his irises had started to fade, he pulled out of you, long, stringy lines of cum connecting you to him and his cock was slick with your arousal, a thick ring of your cream slicking the base.

Steve reached for your panties that were still hooked around your ankles, pulling them up and letting them snap sharply around your waist, tugging them snug against your pussy so his cum saturated the already dampened cotton.

Speechless, you watched him tuck himself back inside his slacks, pulling up the zip and popping the button before reaching into his back pocket and tugging out his leather wallet, thick and bulging with notes and credit cards and he flicked through the hundreds, taking a wad out and pressing them flat on the counter next to you.

Your tip.

“You promised—” you squeaked out, referring to how he had promised you dearly that he’d let you cum once he was inside you. Fucking lying little son of a bitch—

With one final slap to your ass he headed for the door.

“See ya around, sweet cheeks.”

✰

tagging <3—

@lou-la-lou @paladinshenanigan-blog @bleachvibez @qardasngan

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #old money!steve #old money!steve harrington #old money!steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you

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krysaliis · 3 months

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What Kind of Silver Items We Can Gift to a Man

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#silver mens gifts #Sterling Silver Cufflinks #Silver letter openers #sterling silver tie pin #silver money clip #sterling silver keychains

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whump-queen · 3 months

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Silver (Part 2)

continued from this

tags: forced intox, manhandling, “servant” whump but let’s be honest he’s basically a pet. words: 3k

✧ ─ ༻✦༺ ─ ✧

Seven stumbled through the crowd, making his way towards the white cabinets of the adjoined kitchen. The penthouse was precariously dark for how crowded it felt tonight. The sun had set and all that shone through the ceiling-high glass was the glimmering lights of the city. Of tiny people in distant windows. They danced and flickered like highway beams across Seven’s wavering vision.

He braced himself against the glass-paned wall, a handprint he would be cleaning up in the morning, along with the rest of the night’s inevitable damage. He felt his mind buzzing, he placed his other palm against the cool glass, and for a moment, he let himself forget it all.

The ceiling was all that stood between him and an endless sky of blinking lights and stars. There was a vastness about the view beyond that both captivated and terrified him. Skyscrapers surrounded him on all sides, towering to the starry heavens—a gateway that could suck him right up at any moment and send him floating, boundless, through the black night.

He blinked, snapping his gaze from the windowed walls to focus instead on the purple glow of the tacky LED strips Wes had stuck up on the crown molding. Wes was living proof that money couldn’t buy you good taste. He had a gorgeous place on his father’s dime and squandered it with cheesy, bachelor-esque decor. No, if you asked Seven, the penthouse would be much better suited with a simple, elegant aesthetic. But nobody ever did, in fact, ask Seven.

He let his mind wander back to the immaculate halls of the family estate. He wouldn’t say he missed it, rather, it was no better than his current circumstance, but he couldn’t help but feel as though his talents had been better suited there.

At least his Mistress shared his proclivity for cleanliness, and he felt his efforts were more…appreciated. That felt like a strange word to assign to someone like her, but he found himself sick of Wes and his particular brand of chaos. Of constantly cleaning things up after he’d only just tidied them. Of his drunk friends constantly throwing things, knocking things over, and getting sick in less than opportune locations. But most of all, he was sick of never getting a moment of space. Gone were any quiet afternoons spent cleaning the mansion, polishing silver or waxing wooden floors. He could at least let his mind wander, back then. Sometimes his Mistress would even let him out onto the grounds. Sometimes it was bearable, when she wasn’t busy tormenting him.

But there was no yard in this penthouse. Only stacked compartments that soared high into the atmosphere. He’d only ridden the elevator once, on the day he and Wes had moved in. To see so much of the city and never be able to touch it—he felt like a little bird in a high tower, its wings clipped by its captors. Kept in a tiny cage, enveloped in tiny, glimmering lights.

He was suddenly hyper aware of the bracelet around his ankle. The unwelcome feeling of its strap pressing against his skin. An ugly, black, clunky thing. It hadn’t come off since that first day.

He was thinking too much for the amount of tequila he’d ingested, and was rudely reminded of that when his throat clenched up and he realized he’d meant to get water several minutes ago. He turned and blinked again, jostling his twirling stream of consciousness, yet he hadn’t so much as another moment to himself as he was nearly toppled into by a drunk girl with red hair. Brie, some part of him remembered. She was a regular.

She said something to him. He couldn’t make it out over the blasting music. She was holding something.

Make that two things.

She offered him a hand. A blue Jello-shot.

He shook his head, a slightly slurred “Am’good.”

She stepped in closer, sliding her free hand up his chest, “Yeah? I can see that, pretty boy. But we’re just getting started with you.”

Her voice rang clear this time, and Seven felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He just wished they would all leave him alone. What on earth would she make him do this time?

“Please, come on, Brie, I just need some water, I–”

“And I just want you to take a shot with me!” She smiled cheerfully, as if he would have any choice in the matter.

“Now, you can be a good boy and we’ll do it together. It’ll be fun! Or, we can do this the hard way, and I can have the boys hold you down again.”

The memory of being grabbed and harshly shoved to his knees, his arms wrenched behind him and his hair pulled up, of being force-fed liquor like a pathetic dog—

Fuck—he was gonna gag again.

He knew he couldn’t get out of this, but maybe he could stall and buy himself some time to metabolize the tequila Wes had made him drink earlier.

“Please! I swear I just need a minute, I just—”

“Yeah, isn't that a shame? Cuz I want to do it now.”

She turned and called out into the crowd, her red curls bouncing as she moved. And like a supervillain summoning two goons, a pair of hulking jocks seemingly materialized behind her.

Seven froze, two pairs of eyes locking onto his like predators eyeing their next meal. Seven couldn’t even remember their names. Didn’t want to. The tall one with the curly hair and the slightly less-tall one with that awful sneer—they never missed a chance to rough Seven up.

Just like that, they were on him. The tall one kicked out his right knee while the other twisted a hand in his hair and yanked his head down. There was a burst of white light when he hit the floor face-first, hot wetness splattering under the clash of his temple against the tile.

Fuck. Fuckk. It was all white for a moment. Then Seven couldn’t see. Couldn’t feel his entire body. He felt weightless all of a sudden, he’d forgotten where he was, he was hurling through a vortex, somewhere far away, far from this penthouse and the music and the booze. It was a heavy, dull pulsating that stirred him back to whatever half-lucid dream this was. He was lying on something. A hard surface. Fuckk. Where was he?

“Where am I…” his lips moved. No one heard him.

Then the pounding in his temple began to slowly morph when the bass of the music faded back in, thumping against the inside of his skull like an alarm he just wanted to sleep through.

He groaned, and he was reminded, slowly, that this was indeed music, that he was lying on a hard surface and that his head fucking hurt.

He was coming back to himself by the second now and dreaded his position, the memory of reality. To be painfully and blissfully whisked away, if only for a moment—reality hit him harder than the tile flooring.

He was just grateful he’d had the reflex to turn his head. He’d been slammed into the floor enough times to know that failing to do so meant a broken nose.

He was still reeling from the blow when he felt his wrists grabbed. He knew what came next. He tried to struggle against the hands, but he still couldn’t see straight and fuck he was so dizzy everything was whirring too fast. Arms double the size of his own yanked him up into a kneeling position. He felt hands pressing his wrists together, another hand was in his hair, yanking his head back and forcing his spine to arch painfully.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Just do it already, he thought, hoping she’d be finished with him if he just took the shot and left it at that. He should have just taken it the first time. God dammit.

He cried out and his head snapped to the side. Brie had slapped him.

“Pay attention!” She was excited. Smiling in that cheerful beautiful way that would make anyone shocked at the cruelty she was capable of.

She leaned in, sliding her hand down the side of Seven’s reddening cheek, his jawline—he bristled when she reached his collarbone, his sternum, until she was fiddling with the button on his shirt, flicking it until it came free. Seven felt a whine of embarrassment leave his throat, thankfully deafened by the music.

She flicked open a second button and Seven thrashed against the hands that held him, twisting this way and that, giving all his strength for a brief few moments of valiant effort before he felt the back of Brie’s rings cut across his other cheek. He had no time to recover—she grabbed his face and dug her pink nails into the sides of his cheeks, forcing his mouth open. She held the shot up, and he shuddered with the taste of what he knew was coming.

“Now, I was gonna let you use a spoon, but since you decided to be a bitch about it, you can lick it out with your tongue.”

Seven whimpered. Fuck, he was really going to have to do this.

“Go on. You can either eat it from my hands, or off the floor like a dog. Your choice.”

As if there was ever a choice.

Seven complied, scooping the blue jello from the cup with his tongue, and swallowing obediently. It was the only way out. He just prayed she’d be satisfied and leave him alone so he could slink off into a corner somewhere where no one would find him for the rest of the night.

Brie laughed, delighted. She ruffled his hair with her manicured hand. “Good boy!” she exclaimed. As though he really were a dog performing some kind of trick.

He supposed that his obedience was the trick. He was the trick. The dog. Even his title was a farce. Servant. Like his cleaning ever did this place any good. They all treated it like a trap house, anyway.

His stomach was in knots. At least he had done it. He thrashed against the men that still held him.

“Aren't you gonna—” his tone slipped. He caught himself. Be respectful. Plead.

“Please, Brie, jus’ lemme go.” His head was pounding, still bleeding from being slammed against the floor. Everything hurt. As he said it, he realized he might just topple over if they were to release him now.

“Hmm..” Brie posed her hand against her chin, in mocking consideration.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

She smiled, “I’ve remembered how much I like you this way. You’re just so cute!” She ruffled his hair again. He twisted his head to the side, trying to avoid her hand. That earned him another slap. Harder than the others. Seven seemed to have run out of chances.

“Mikey!” She exclaimed to the goon on the left, “Tie him up!”

The hulking man chuckled. “Looks like he hasn't had enough yet.”

The goon, Mikey, released Seven’s left arm, only for the other man to grab it immediately, twisting both arms behind his back and pressing him down to the floor. Seven didn’t struggle this time, fears of a broken nose or worse running through his mind as his face was rubbed into the smear of his own blood. He let it happen.

There was a knee on his back, pressing him hard against the tile. He felt a thick leather strap encircle his wrists, cinching tightly before the hands released his arms and tangled back in his hair, yanking his head up until he was kneeling again. He tested the leather, pulling to see if it would give, but it seemed he’d been successfully restrained with no more than a leather belt.

“Aww, come on Seven, that was nothing! Surely you can take more than that.”

By this point, they were really starting to draw a crowd. Dark figures gathered around him, laughing and swirling, their faces shrouded into dark silhouettes.

“Please,” he begged, “W-water…”

No one heard him.

“I've got somethin for him!” one guy shouted, approaching through the crowd with what looked to be a jar in his hands.

“Ooo lemme see!” Brie turned, thrilled, “No way. You got Moonshine Maraschinos? Where did you even find these?”

Seven paused his struggling, confused. He hadn’t heard of that before. He imagined it would be painful, whatever it was.

“My buddy makes ‘em himself,” the man declared proudly, no doubt invigorated by Brie’s approval. “Best moonshine around. Won’t find nothing stronger than these.” He tapped the lid of the jar.

“Well? Chop chop!!” She clapped her hands at him impatiently. “I’m not opening that thing myself.”

When the lid was open, Brie reached in and withdrew her hand, her pink fingertips clasped around the stem of a single red cherry. She turned to Seven, leaning down and dangling it in front of his face.

Seven twisted and scrambled away, “No! Wait, please I jus’ need—” He made it a few feet before one of Brie’s goons caught him by the hair. He let out a yelp as he was dragged backwards, and thrown back down at her feet. His knees cracked against the tile again and he knew they would be beyond bruised by morning.

“Oh Sevennn,” Brie sang from above him, “Did you think I was finished with you? That it would be that easy? I haven’t even told you what they are yet! Don’t you wanna know?”

Held tightly in place by the goons, Seven said nothing, indignant and content to stare her down until she did the inevitable.

She let out a big, dramatic breath. “Since you didn't ask, I might as well tell you. These are maraschino cherries, sugar cherries. Soaked in moonshine. You’ve heard of moonshine, haven’t you?”

He grit his teeth and scowled. Her tone was beyond patronizing, but he had not, in fact, heard of moonshine.

“No,” was all he said.

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel it soon enough.”

Before he could react, her hand was on his face again, pinching his cheeks until his mouth opened. She dangled the cherry over his parted lips. He could still see her smiling over him. Fuck—why did she have to drag this out?

She lowered the cherry into his mouth, and he took it obediently. He swallowed and immediately gagged when she released his face. It tasted awful. Like someone had soaked a cherry in rubbing alcohol for 8-10 business months. He supposed that was probably exactly what it was.

She fed him three more before the goons finally released him. Seven curled in on himself at once, folded over with his hands still bound behind him, just trying to quell the nausea in the pit of his stomach. His throat burned, and he couldn’t get that god awful taste of moonshine out of his mouth—out of his nose—his head.

He collapsed onto his side, his shoulder hissing with pain when it hit the floor. He begged for water. No one heard him.

✧ ─ ༻✦༺ ─ ✧

Seven was floating somewhere. Somewhere high, high above. Diving in the starry depths that loomed overhead, just above the ceiling plaster.

His mind was elsewhere, but his body remained curled on the floor, crumbling between hyperventilation and bouts of nausea that made him gag, when he felt the tip of a shoe jab him hard in the ribs.

He ignored it. The shoe persisted, jabbing him harder and harder until it kicked him ruthlessly in the ribs.

He groaned in pain and stirred, coughing, as he awkwardly propped himself up on one elbow with his hands still bound uselessly at the small of his back.

Slowly, he managed to look up, and felt his liquor-soaked blood run cold. Wes’ hulking shadow loomed over him.

“Well, don’t you look fuckin’ pathetic,” he spat.

Seven could hear that he was smiling. Wes continued, wiping slick strands of hair across his forehead, “Looks like they already got you tied nice and tight, you want some more?”

Seven scrambled back, “No—no’more, please!–”

Wes didn’t give time for Seven to escape. Grabbing his collar and yanking him forward, he forced that now half-drunken bottle of silver tequila right to his lips.

Wes’ other hand found Seven’s hair and yanked it back again, following with the bottle until Seven was nearly bent in half limbo-style.

For several agonizing seconds, Wes’ hand in his hair was all that held him up as he was forced to chug that horrible nauseating poison. It was. It was straight poison. And Seven would never be free of it. Free of them. Free of him.

Too many seconds—let up Wes for the love of god please—let up!—god—Seven begged in his head, tears falling and whimpering, he gagged mid-gulp and felt lukewarm, stinging poison spill from his lips and run down his chin, before Wes pulled the bottle away and released his hair.

He collapsed instantly, coughing and retching and curling in on himself when his knees hit the floor and he felt his kneecaps ring.

They thought it was funny to get him drunk like this. Just because they could.

Seven lay on the floor for, he didn’t know how long. Someone finally brought him water. He didn’t know who. There was a light touch on his shoulder, the gentle cupping of the back of his neck, guiding him towards a red solo cup. He flinched away before he realized its contents didn’t reek like its predecessors. It was water.

He was back on his knees so fast it made his head spin with heavy vertigo, swallowing him in swirling molasses for several moments as he tried to stop the blurry red shape in front of him from oscillating back and forth.

That hand was back around his neck again, gripping, but not squeezing. Holding his chin and guiding him towards the water. He tried to reach for the cup. His arms did not budge. He remembered now, slowly and to his detriment, that no one at this party had any intention of releasing him from his belted circumstance any time soon.

He decided he didn’t care. There was no time to care when there was water.

He lurched his head forward when his lips touched the plastic, causing the cup to tip too fast and the water to cascade down his face and neck and his exposed chest.

He didn’t care, gulping it up at a breakneck speed until every drop was gone.

His savior pulled her hand away and he gasped and bent forward, realizing the front of his shirt was soaked through.

He probably looked like a mess.

He didn’t care.

This was no place for pride.

He just hoped he’d survive the night.

✧ ─ ༻✦༺ ─ ✧

Oh boy that was a long one! Let me know if you have any suggestions/requests on what to do to him next :3

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years

Text

The Other Half

Winter Prompts Masterlist | Winter Prompts List

Part Two | Masterlist

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Prompts: Sales/ Sparkling/ Opposites Attract

“Customer.”

You glance over toward a man looking in a display case as your manager nods them toward you. You puff softly before slapping a customer-service-ready smile onto your face. You’ve been avoiding really working for the last hour; you’ve been able to hide, shuffling things around in the stockroom before your manager had insisted that you return to the floor. You’re working on commission, though—you need the sales, especially with Christmas just around the corner. You still have a couple of last-minute gifts to get.

You walk over to the man peering into a sparkling display case, stopping just beside him.

“Is there something I can help you find today?” You ask.

“Yes,” The man raises his hand, tapping on the top of the case. “I’d like to see that tie clip, the uh…The silver one with the scroll work.”

There's something familiar about his voice, but you don't read too much into it. You round the counter, drawing a small key ring from your pocket.

“The sterling silver? An excellent choice. It’s one of a kind,” You commend as you lift the small display out of the case and onto the counter. “And we have a special sale on these this week.”

The man chuckles, offering, “I’m not particularly worried about it being on sale.”

Cocky much?

You glance at the man, then freeze, eyes widening. There’s no way that the goddamn Prince of Gotham is on your counter right now. Luckily for you, he’s focused on the tie clips. Maybe he knows you’re staring and is just ignoring it. Maybe he’s just so used to the sensation that he simply doesn’t register it anymore.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to refocus as he reaches out, hand hovering over the tie clip.

“May I?” He asks.

“Of course,” You nod. You don’t expect him to run with it—the guy’s got more money than god. He slides his coat off of where it’s slung over his arm, setting it down on the counter and taking up the tie clip. You rest your hands steadily on the counter, watching his face as he eyes the clip. His eyes narrow a touch as he sweeps his thumb over the scroll work.

“May I ask who you’re purchasing this for?” You ask.

“My butler.”

Your brows raise a touch. You’d imagine that Bruce Wayne would be the type to give someone a store credit, and to tell them to buy something they like.

“What’s his style?” You ask, though it feels like the wrong question—and by the way Wayne’s eyes flicker to you, you realize that it sort of is.

“I suppose he’d describe it as understated. I call it boring.” He looks back down at the tie clip. “I was hoping to get him something to mix it up a little bit.”

You smile a little.

“Well, if you like that tie clip, we have matching cuff links to pair with them.”

“I’d like to see those.”

“Of course.” You crouch down again, drawing up the display with cuff links and setting it on the counter beside the tie clips. He sets the tie clip down, leaning over and narrowing his eyes slightly to look at the cuff links. After a moment, to your great surprise, he plants his elbow on the counter and rests his chin on his hand. You can’t help but smile. He looks like an indecisive little boy.

“What does your butler like?” You ask.

“...Mopping,” He answers after a moment, “And berating me.”

You laugh a little, unable to help it. “Something tells me he only really likes one of those.”

Wayne’s gaze flickers to yours, and you’re surprised to see him smiling, himself. It makes your smile widen before you arch a brow. “So?”

“Come to think of it, he likes gardening,” Wayne adds, straightening up.

“Perhaps a new set of gardening gloves?” You offer. “Or a trug?”

“What’s a trug?”

“It’s like a long sort of shallow basket for carrying back flowers and produce and tools.”

“...They sell those here?”

“Yes,” You nod, “The gardening section is on the fifth floor.”

“Okay,” He nods, rapping his knuckles on the counter. “Wrap up the tie clip and the cuff links, and then let’s go.”

You blink at him in surprise before you glance back toward where your manager is watching you closely.

“Ah—I’m not sure I can go with you to another floor,” You laugh nervously as you take up gift boxes for the tie clip and cuff links. “But I’ll be happy to call down and ask for a a sales associate that could help you.”

Wayne frowns a touch, gaze sweeping you before he looks around. “Where’s your manager?”

Oh—No. Are you going to get in trouble for following the fricking rules? Is he going to change his mind about the tie clip and the cuff links? The two items alone would net you a commission of almost $500. But you force a placid expression onto your face before raising your hand, signaling for your manager to come over. A dark expression crosses her face, and it turns your stomach.

“Yes, sir,” She chirps, coming to the counter and stopping beside Wayne, “How can I—” She goes silent as she realizes who he is. Her jaw drops a touch at the sight of him before she stutters, “How can I—I—Yes, sir?”

Wayne’s smile shifts to something that you haven’t seen at the counter—a press-ready, plasticized grin.

“Your associate has been incredibly helpful.”

“I trained her myself,” Your manager grins. You can’t help but roll your eyes. She certainly did not—you’ve been here for a year longer than she has.

“Well, you’ve done a marvelous job,” Wayne insists. “In fact, I’ve found her assistance so invaluable that I was hoping you could spare her for a little while.”

“Spare…?” The manager repeats, eyes darting between you, Wayne, and the gift boxes on the counter.

“Mr. Wayne is interested in a few items in the gardening department,” You clarify.

“Her sense of style and function are just…” Wayne trails off, lips curling teasingly as he shoots you a sneaky, cheeky wink, “Just what I need.”

You don’t even care if he’s exaggerating for the sake of your manager; the flattery still makes your face go hot, and that wink—you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

“I suppose we could manage without her for a little while—But not too long. She’s such a valuable asset to the department,” Your manager coos. Well. That’s news to you—especially considering how much you slacked off that morning.

“If you could have these rung up,” Wayne reaches out, tapping at the top of the gift boxes, “And hold them for me here.”

“Of course. They were the…” Your manager glances toward you expectantly.

“The sterling silver scroll work tie clip, and the matching cuff links,” You relay.

“What beautiful choices! You have such a sense of taste, Mr. Wayne,” You manager turns a bright eye toward him again. You have to bite your tongue to keep from scoffing aloud. You’ve never seen her fawn over anyone like this. Mr. Wayne just smiles and gives a nod, taking up his coat from the counter as you tuck the two displays back into the counter, locking them up.

“Shall we?” Wayne asks, nodding toward the elevator.

“Of course,” You nod.

“Take your time!” Your manager adds brightly.

“Thank you,” Wayne rests his hand on her shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze before turning away. The two of you walk over to the elevator, and you clasp your hands in front of yourself as you wait. Wayne gestures for you to step on first, then follows, watching you jab the button for the fifth floor. It’s quiet between you for a moment before Wayne says,

“Is she always that bad?”

You can’t help but burst into giggles, raising your hand and covering your mouth.

“I think you brought something new out in her,” You tease. You lead the way off of the elevator as you reach the fifth floor. “Do you have any other people that you need to shop for?”

“What other people?” Wayne repeats. Your stomach swoops with panic. You know what happened to his parents—everyone does.

“A girlfriend, perhaps?” You clarify.

“Ah,” He nods in understanding before shaking his head. “No.” The two of you go quiet for a moment before he asks, “Have you gotten all of your shopping done?”

“Not all of it,” You sigh.

“What do you still need?”

“Something for my roommate—and uh, probably something for her parents. We’re going to hers for Christmas.”

“What about your family?”

“They live in Metropolis.”

“Are you from there?”

“No, no, I’m from Gotham. They moved there last year.”

“Why?”

“It’s just more affordable.” It feels like something stupid to say to a billionaire, but it’s the truth—and considering his comment on your manager’s countenance, you think he’s pretty good at seeing through falsity. But he just nods a little bit, looking forward.

“Here,” You gesture toward the display of gardening gloves, tucking your hands behind yourself. Wayne hums, taking a step closer and peering at the selection with the same interest that he looked at the tie clips and cuff links.

“Are there any that stick out to you?” You ask, looking around.

“He has a scarf similar to…Those,” He points to a check-patterned pair by you. You let out an interested hum, nodding and taking them up.

“They’re cute,” You turn them over, eyeing the fingertips, “And they’ve got little pads so that you can text while you’re wearing them.”

“I’m not sure Alfred would worry about that,” Wayne smiles, “Though I’ll be sure to mention it to him.”

You smile a little before nodding to the display. “All set here?”

“Mm, let’s make it two pair…You choose one.”

You consider, looking down at the gloves in your hand. If he’s getting one patterned pair…Maybe a plain pair? You look around, drawing your lip between your teeth as you consider. Then you reach out, snagging a pair of forest green gloves. Wayne reaches out, taking them from you.

“He’ll like these,” He says softly. You smile, relieved.

“Now,” Wayne adds, looking around. He seems to be squinting and pouting for emphasis. “On to the…shrug?”

“Trug,” You correct, “But I think you know that, Mr. Wayne.”

He catches your eye, his brows twitching in surprise. Then he smiles warmly, giving a small nod of concession, muttering, “Touché.”

“They’re this way,” You nod around the corner.

It doesn’t take the two of you long to choose what he considers a suitable trug—a light grained wood base with mahogany handles and silver fastenings. You expect to leave it there—to lead Wayne to the counter, to thank him for his business, and to go back to work. Instead, Wayne tells the clerk that he’ll be back for the gloves and trug, and then turns to you.

“Walk me to the elevator?” He asks.

“Of course.”

You ignore your coworker’s stunned expression and turn, leading the way down the aisle. Maybe he wants to go back upstairs and get the cuff links and tie clip. But—

“What are you doing for lunch?” He asks.

It feels like an illicit rush to get out of there—redirecting Wayne to the staff exit so that you wouldn’t be clocked by the security guard for leaving. He’d put his coat around your shoulders as the two of you had stepped into the Gotham chill. You hadn’t gone far—you’d insisted that you couldn’t. You’d wound up at a diner just a few blocks away from the store.

You glance at Wayne now, and smile as you watch him look around the diner.

“Why’d you ask me?” You ask after a moment. “Wanted to see how the other half eats?”

He chuckles, leaning back in his seat a touch and meeting your eye again. “I’ll have you know that I ate at plenty of places like this when I went to Princeton. Besides, you said you wanted to come here.”

“If I had asked to go somewhere else—”

“We would’ve gone there instead.”

“Even if it was some five-star something something?”

“Especially if it was some five-star something something. I’m guessing the wine list here is a little lackluster.”

You snort, looking down at your menu.

“...Why did you ask?” You press nervously. He doesn’t answer for a moment, and you glance up at him from beneath your lashes. He’s watching you closely, eyes wandering your face.

“Because you spoke to me like a person. Not like how your manager spoke to me, not like I’m ‘Bruce Wayne’.”

The admission is surprising. You hesitate before you argue, “But you are Bruce Wayne.”

He smiles softly.

“I know that and you know that,” He leans in, folding his arms on the table. “But I like it better when neither of us act like it.”

Part Two

Tag list: @amneris21 ; @elen-aranel ; @brandyllyn ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Bruce Wayne fic #Bruce Wayne imagine #Bale!Batman #Fluffcember #Fluffcember 2022 #Winter Writing Prompts #The Other Half

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queenie-ofthe-void · 1 month

Text

A Desperate Fool - Part 5

Part 4

Last Time: Nancy had an unexpected guest while filling Eddie in on everything he's missed over the past year. Now: Nancy finally tells him what's going on with Steve

~~~

Nancy starts the story at the beginning of the end.

Robin, Max, and Lucas flew out to LA and spent the last three days of Eddie’s ten day bender loading up boxes, carving Steve out of his life. After severing her lease, Robin and Steve moved into a small apartment in Chicago, only a train ride away from Dustin– which worked out when Steve struggled to leave the house for the first two months. All of the arcade and game store money Steve spent on the kids over the years was paid back in full to help cover the rent.

Eddie remembers the moment he opened their front door to a hollowed-out home. No toothbrush by the sink. No gold, wire-framed glasses on the nightstand. Just Steve’s matching guitar pick necklace next to two silver house keys, and a note which said ”don’t call” in Robin’s looped handwriting.

The first few months after Steve moved out are just a whirlwind in his memory. Countless parties and late nights and warm beds buried his grief, keeping it at bay, at least for a while.

Then Corroded Coffin’s new album Love Me. Hate Me. Fuck Me. Free Me. dropped. Eddie's lyrics filled to the brim with seething disdain, heavy with angst. The album found its target audience faster than anyone had expected, launching Corroded Coffin from an opener to a headliner in only a few months.

The collective internet started raiding his past like the trash heap it was, and that’s when the interviews started. He was forced to defend his sexuality, his adoption, his shitty parents. Answering questions at the whims of anyone with internet access. Eddie held the rage like a lifeline, letting it fuel his shows and lace his words.

He'd started showing up high to interviews. Even though he’s six months sober now, he’s never gone back and watched them, too afraid of what he’d find. He knows questions about his exes came up a few times. He can't remember what his answers were. Probably doesn't want to, with how his younger fans reacted.

That doesn’t stop Nancy and she doesn’t sugar coat it for him. She tells him paparazzi and angry fans camped outside Steve's apartment building for weeks after Eddie mentioned Steve's full name in a drunken livestream. They were served an eviction notice a week after a fan threw a milkshake at Robin as she tried to open the front door. Steve was able to pull her inside, but his appearance only incensed the crowd into vandalizing their building. Apparently people didn’t take kindly to the idea of Steve dating a woman, proof that he only used Eddie as some sort of queer experiment. Like they hadn’t been together for almost eight years.

Moving out required coordination and a decoy moving van, like something out of a goddamn heist movie. According to Nancy, that’s exactly what it was. They packed up their things for the second time, and were out within twenty-four hours. The kids snuck the two through the back in the dead of night, with Nancy dressed as Robin and Jonathan as Steve leaving out the front to distract the crowd.

Looking back, he can’t believe how naive he’d been to think there’d be no real-world consequences. Eddie used the album as an opportunity to purge himself of overwhelming emotion and pour them into the music, like he always did. He indulged in the recurring fantasy of Steve holed up in his bedroom, brooding and crying while listening to Eddie’s songs over and over again. But he never thought for a second he’d be putting Steve in actual danger, let alone Robin or anyone else.

Nancy says that’s when they moved into her and Jonathan’s guest bedroom for two months. It was awkward at best, and difficult at worst. Steve would walk in on Nancy and Jonathan in the middle of a conversation about Eddie, or catch them watching interview clips. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, Steve seemed to see right through her.

“Eddie,” Nancy sighs, wiping a stray tear from her eye, “I don’t think you understand how hard it was on everyone, not just Steve. You didn’t seem to care what we had to say, and when you called, you’d never ask about us. You only ever talked about yourself. All we heard about was Metal Munson, then had to watch Steve struggle with it all. It just– we didn’t know what to do.”

It took him longer than it should have to notice, since he didn’t call often. He was too relieved to care about the lack of messages or missed calls, sick of everyone constantly begging him to slow down. They’d see him online at some party or another, dancing next to some boy he’d never remember or drinking bottles on top of bars. Every new viral video brought a wave of concerned phone calls from Nancy and his friends. So really, it’s no surprise at all that he didn’t notice the change right away.

Because if Nancy’s timing is right, the month Steve and Robin moved in was when his family started blocking all contact with him.

~~~

ao3 (Homesick)

Alright turns out I'm terrible with exposition so this chapter is taking me FOREVER! I'm relatively happy with this part though so I'm ready to share. So I'm breaking it into bite sized pieces

Ooooo ALSO I started uploading all of A Desperate Fool to ao3 under the series Homesick. I'm going for full chapter updates on ao3 and little snippet updates here, so Tumblr might be just slightly ahead (never far though). Not sure what the rules are for marking the fic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson when they never interact, and Steve isn't even there, even though that's what the whole fic is about. Idk I tried to make it clear!

I've talked about how the first chapter with Robin was supposed to be a one-off. But the overall concept was born from the song If It Means A Lot To You by A Day To Remember. That song is gut wrenching, so hopefully my fic is too!

Part 6

Tag List!!!

@sadisticaltarts @5ammi90 @blacklegsanji21

#a desperate fool #heavy exposition like damn did this suck to write #modern au #rock star eddie munson #normal guy steve harrington #break up fic #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #eddie is nancy's half brother #and mike's too obv but we aren't there yet #hurt/comfort #heavy angst #steddie breakup #steddie #queeniewritesstories

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