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mermaidgirl30 · 2 months

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✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 1: Introductions✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: Here is my new club owner Joel series! Thank you to the lovely @janaispunk for making me this beautiful mood board ❤️ Joel Miller is the biggest menace in this one. I wanted to somehow mix a little 50 Shades of Grey but also create something unique and super hot, so hope you enjoy 50 Shades of pleasure dom Joel! Comments and reblogs are most appreciated. Let me know your thoughts on this one! As always, I LOVE writing and hope you enjoy my stories as much as I love writing and sharing them with you 💕

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Word Count: 9.7k

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Tags: No outbreak au, thigh riding, Joel’s dirty mouth, flirting, pining, fingering

Summary: After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s Friday night and instead of sitting down with a cold glass of white wine and a book on the couch, you’re currently standing in a dress that’s too tight and heels so high you think you’ll fall over at any minute. The tight black dress clings to your body like a suction cup, and the slit in the side of your left thigh is almost showing too much skin the more you move around.

You spent the last hour sitting at your glowing vanity, curling your hair into long spirals and putting on smokey dark eyeshadow that makes your eyes stand out and deep red lipstick that sits matted against your lips. This isn’t your usual. You like to stay in after a long week at the library, not go clubbing till 2:00am. You’re not an extrovert like all your friends are, so this is a once in a while thing you even do.

You take one more look at yourself in the mirror and sigh heavily. This will be good for you. You need to socialize. You need to get back into the dating field, but that honestly just sounds like a nightmare right now. Dating in general just sucks. It’s like no man knows how to even properly treat a woman nowadays. Your last boyfriend was a complete nightmare. Tall, lanky, sports obsessed, demanded blowjobs without even offering to go down on you once. That’s how all the guys had been in the past, and you were honestly just over it. Fuck men.

Before you can get all worked up about past boyfriends, you head to your apartment door when you hear a sharp knock and giddy laughter on the other side. That meant the girls were here. Here goes nothing. When you open the door, Brianna and Taylor lose it when they see what you’re wearing.

“Oh my God, look at you!” Brianna screams as Taylor twirls you around to get a good look at you. Brianna’s soft brown eyes and long blonde curls look you over from head to toe. “You’re such a babe! And that dress? God, it makes your ass look so good and that slit in your dress?! You are definitely going to get laid tonight,” she shrieks as she gives you a quick hug hello.

“Bri, stop!” you laugh, shaking your head no. “I am not getting laid tonight. I’m so over guys,” you cringe as you roll your eyes.

“Oh, please. All the men are going to be looking at you tonight, you little slut!” Taylor smirks as her green eyes sparkle like emeralds when she looks at your short dress. Her pinned up red hair sits perfectly in a messy bun atop her head, her white heels digging into the wooden floor as she circles you.

“No, guys. Really, I don’t need to try to find someone tonight. I’m only going out because you’re forcing me to,” you complain with a huff.

“Sure, babe. That vibrator that sits in your nightstand isn’t gonna get you anywhere fast. You need to be laid properly. So we’re gonna find you a man tonight if it’s the last thing we do,” Brianna says with a beam of a bright smile.

“Whatever, let’s just go. I need a drink,” you whine as they pull you out of the comfort of your small apartment and whisk you out the door, shoving you inside the White Cadillac that sits idle on the corner of the curb.

You slump in the front passenger seat as soon as Brianna drives off, entering the busy traffic of Austin as the city lights flash brightly outside the window. You sigh and lean on the edge of the window as Taylor Swift’s “Karma” blasts through the speakers. Taylor and Brianna sing along loudly, but you sit mute with your arms crossed across your chest.

“Oh, cheer up, babe! You’re supposed to be having fun tonight, not brooding in the corner like a pent up prisoner,” Brianna laughs as she hits your arm lightly.

“I’d be in a better mood if I was curled up on my couch with a good book,” you groan as you stifle out another sigh.

Taylor leans over the back of the front seat and takes a good look at you. “Don’t be such a buzzkill. You will have fun tonight whether you like it or not! This club is to die for. I know it just opened last year, but seriously it’s the hottest club in Austin,” she says excitedly with a big grin zipped across her contoured face.

“What’s the name of this club again?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“Club Inferno,” Taylor says with a smirk. “Inferno is right. It’s hot as fuck in there, and the men that go are super sexy,” she swoons as she sits back against her leather seat.

“Club Inferno, huh? Wonder how the owner came up with a name like that,” you ask curiously as you focus your sights on the busy sidewalks that are littered with dressed up couples and groups that look like they’re about to head to the club as well.

“I don’t know, babe. Maybe you can ask the owner yourself,” Brianna smirks in the front seat.

“Who’s the owner?” you ask, trying not to sound too intrigued.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t say online, but I hear rumors that he’s ridiculously hot. Like I’m talking about an 11/10 hot,” she smirks as she pulls into a parking spot a few feet from the lit up club.

“Sounds like someone I wouldn’t be interested in. He already sounds arrogant and like all the other men I’ve dated,” you spit out, a snarl hanging on your lips.

“Oh, just shut up and have some fun tonight, please. You’re killing my vibes,” she says as she rolls her eyes and puts the car in park.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll try to have fun,” you sigh as you step out of the car onto the hard concrete, pulling your dress down so it doesn’t ride up and expose too much skin.

“Good, now let’s go drink and dance!” Brianna and Taylor scream together. You just laugh and follow them to the front of the club, stopping at the metallic black double doors as you get your IDs checked. Once they give them back, you step into the club and gasp at the sight.

The inside is absolutely gigantic. The club sits two stories high with a shimmering disco ball hanging in the middle of the crowded dance floor. The walls are pitch black with red glowing signs all around that say “Club Inferno”. The sign that sits behind the bar is also glowing red and says “Sinners Welcome”. The bar has a large mirror splayed across the wall with bottles of beer and liquor stacked high against it. The bar top has a sleek dark wooden hue to it and the bar stools are made of black leather material.

There’s dark boothes all around that are marked off for VIP lounges, private parties, or reservations made prior. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling as they make shiny patterns on the dark hardwood floors. An open lounge area sits in the opposite corner of the bar where leather couches and small glass tables sit scattered around. You look away when you see a cozy couple making out in a corner of one of the couches and try not to roll your eyes.

When you turn towards the dance floor, you see the glow of fluorescent blue and red flashing lights mix in with the glittering disco ball as the Dj spins some tracks on a large display against the wall. The dance floor is crowded, maybe two-hundred people at the least stand grinding up on each other as Rhianna blasts through the speakers. Two platforms with poles attached to the center sit in the back corners of the room for anyone to use at their leisure.

Behind the bar sits two long, dark hallways with various rooms attached down the shadowed corners of the hallway. A spiral staircase sits next to the second hall and leads up to the second floor. From here you can’t see what all is upstairs, but it looks like another bar sits up there and maybe some pool tables from what you can see. This club wasn’t anything like you expected it to be. You thought it’d be small and maybe less crowded. Boy, were you wrong.

“Don’t you love it in here?!” Taylor asks excitedly as she twirls around in her short forest green strapless dress and pulls you to the dance floor.

“It’s a lot bigger than I imagined it to be,” you shout out loudly against the beat of the music. “Tay, we just got here. Can’t we sit down?” you whine as Brianna pulls you into the middle of the raging crowd.

“Not until after a couple of dances,” Taylor smiles as she pushes her back against a man in a suit that grinds up against his blonde girlfriend. You groan but go along with them.

“Loosen up, hun. The night’s just started. We’ll get some alcohol in you, and you’ll be just fine,” Brianna beams as she grabs a few Jell-O shots from the bartender that makes her away across the busy dance floor. “Drink up!” she yells as she hands you a container of red liquid.

“Fine,” you groan as you pop the shot into your mouth and instantly taste cherry and vodka mixed together. It slides down your throat easily, and you put the empty vial on the bartender’s tray. Taylor and Brianna both cheer after you take the shot and start grinding up against each other as the music switches over to a Beyoncé song.

You decide to try to enjoy yourself and sway your hips, getting into the song as the dance floor rocks back and forth. You keep your focus on the shimmering disco ball and watch the way the sparkling glass reflects off the walls. You keep your eyes from staying too much in the crowd and focus on your friends as they lift their arms and shimmy their hips to the beat.

After a couple of long songs, they agree to take a break and get some drinks. You and Taylor find an empty couch and sit down while Brianna goes up to the bar and orders a round of LITs for the table. After a few minutes, she returns with the glasses of alcohol and passes them out. You take a big gulp and feel the remnants of alcohol run down your throat with a slight burning sensation staying stagnant in your mouth.

“So, see any cute guys you might be interested in?” Taylor asks as she looks around the crowded club, focusing her eyes on a tall man with short blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. “What about that one, huh? He’s kinda cute,” she says with a flirtatious smile as she eyes him.

You scrunch your nose up and shake your head. “No, Taylor. Not that one. Maybe you can go talk to him. He looks like your type,” you laugh as you watch her eye him up and down. You take another sip of your drink and set it on the glass table as the condensation drips down the glass.

Brianna smirks at you and looks from the bar, back to you a few times. “Bri, what? I know that look. That’s a plotting face you always make when you’re up to no good.”

She just smiles wider. “You see that man at the bar? That one on the left corner with the white collared button-up shirt?” She points him out and you flick your eyes over in that direction nonchalantly.

The man she points out is sitting in one of the barstools and sips casually on a cold glass of what looks to be whiskey. You slowly drag your eyes over him, taking in the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to expose thick veins that spider all the way down his arms to end in massive hands. His biceps bulge against the cotton material every time he flexes and moves to grab his cold glass of alcohol. His dark blue jeans press up against muscular thighs and a fancy black watch sits latched onto his left wrist. His hair is dark and streaked with grey lines as thick tousled curls sit wildly atop his head. A dark, patchy beard shadows his sculpted, sharp jawlines.

Your eyes move over his greying locks again slowly, taking in the way a couple curls fall against his forehead subtly. His curls look soft to the touch, you almost wonder what it’d be like to run your fingers through his hair or maybe drag your nails against that salt and pepper scruff…

You jolt out of your daydream as his eyes linger over to yours, calmly taking another drink of whiskey as his eyes stay locked on yours. You pull your eyes away and look back at Brianna. “What about him?” you ask with a shaky breath.

“The man hasn’t stopped looking at you since you walked into the club,” she giggles as you go wide-eyed.

“Oh, he has not. Please, he’s got to be looking at you or Taylor,” you reply as she looks back up at the bar.

“I don’t think so, honey,” Taylor laughs as she knocks you in the shoulder with her arm. “He’s looking straight at you.”

You look back up and freeze. His dark eyes find yours again as a small smirk appears on the edge of his mouth, curling into something that dares you to challenge his gaze. You suck in a breath and look back down, grabbing your drink as you try to calm your nerves down. Calm down, calm down. He’s just a guy. He’s probably not even interested in anything you have to say.

“You’re going to go talk to him,” Brianna smiles deviously as she narrows her eyes and smirks up at you.

“What?!” you choke out, the liquid flowing down your windpipes uncomfortably. “No, no way. I can’t.”

“Yes, you are,” Taylor encourages you. “He’s totally gorgeous. Like come on. He’s clearly at least in his upper forties. Older, probably has a lot of money, dresses nicely, and I see no wedding ring on him,” she smirks, eyes darkening as she gets up and pulls you along for the ride.

“No, Tay. Please, I can’t. I’m not…”

She cuts you off as Brianna joins in, pulling you towards the bar as your feet try to stay planted to the spot you’re in. “You’re not what? Look at you, you’re hot. Don’t waste it by being boring. Go talk to him,” she encourages as she pulls you further, halfway to the bar now as you see him in the corner of your vision eyeing you.

“No, guys. Come on. I’m too… I can’t…”

Brianna stops you from saying anything else. “Look, you're going to go talk to him, and he’s going to buy you a drink, and then me and Tay are going to go back out there and dance. And you’re going to go up there and flirt with him and twirl your hair and get his number,” she says seriously as she drags you to the edge of the bar.

“But I… he’s too… I can’t…” you stutter out.

“Go on, babe. You can do it.” Brianna and Taylor give you a hard push and shove you against the edge of the bar, only a few bar stools away from the man with the dark eyes. “Have fun,” Brianna whispers in your ear with a laugh as she grabs Taylor’s hand and leads her away from the bar, leaving you all alone with your heart pounding uncontrollably in your chest.

You take a seat on one of the empty black bar stools and rest your arms on the sleek bar top, looking over the menu nervously as you flip through the pages of drinks. You don’t look up, afraid that if you do you’ll lock eyes again with the handsome stranger. No more dating, no more dating, no more dating.

“Is this seat taken?” A deep Southern voice fills your ears as you look up and find the man with dark eyes looking down at you.

Fuck.

“Ummm no,” you answer shyly as you tuck a curl behind your ear, cursing your friends for pushing you into doing this.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod and he pushes back the empty bar stool, lightly brushing his leg against yours as a chill runs down your spine at the contact.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks as he looks you over slowly, making your eyes widen at the action.

“Oh, sure,” you respond meekly, putting the drink menu down before you rip it in half from the way you’re anxiously flipping through the pages.

“So, what’s your drink of choice?”

You muster up an ounce of courage and fire back a question without thinking. “What do you think my drink of choice is?” you ask flirtatiously, batting your eyelashes up at him as if to win him over. Your adrenaline spikes in your body, and it’s as if the alcohol turned you into another girl.

What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn’t like you. You don’t flirt with men at clubs, especially gorgeous men like him. But he’s so hot, you can’t resist. Fuck.

He chuckles at the question and drags his eyes nice and slow over your body, clenching his jaw up as he concentrates on you. You can see the calculations and assumptions he’s making swirl and tick in his mind. He’ll never guess right. He’s just like any other guy. They all get it wrong, always.

His eyes flick back up to your face as a gentle smile spreads over his mouth, forming dimples that press deep into his cheeks.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

“Hmmm, let me see,” he starts slow, his words slipping like melted butter off his tongue. “You don’t seem like the type to drink hard liquor. Fireball? Definitely not. Tequila? Can’t see it. But hmmm, let me guess…” He takes another good look at you and stares into your eyes. Those warm brown eyes searing through you as you melt into them.

God, those eyes. Those fucking brown doe eyes.

“Rum? Maybe. Vodka? Most likely. Whiskey… maybe a whiskey girl. But you…” He leans in closer, and you can smell the cologne dripping off his skin. Can practically taste the whiskey that encompasses his lips. Can almost feel how his mouth would taste with his tongue gliding against yours.

You focus on deep breaths as he rests his large hand right next to yours, barely brushing the tips of his fingers against yours as goosebumps start to crawl slowly up your arm. He laughs lightly as he forms a guess with a Southern drawl dripping off his tongue. “Malibu tonic? Guessin’ you’re a fruity cocktail kind of girl.”

“How did you know that’s one of my favorite drinks?” you ask with a wide-eyed stare.

“Just an assumption, sweetheart. I’m pretty good at readin’ people. Especially ones as pretty as yourself,” he smirks, turning toward the bar to call over one of the bartenders.

Sweetheart? Pretty? Oh fuck, you’re in trouble.

As soon as the blonde bartender comes over, he wastes no time and gives her your drink orders. “One Malibu tonic and one Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey on the rocks. Thanks, Hailey,” he smiles softly and nods as she smiles back and turns away, getting the drinks prepared in a flash.

Hailey? Of course he knows her by name. He probably knows every fucking girl in this obscene club by name.

You frown, a tinge of jealousy hitting the back of your closed up throat. But why are you jealous? You don’t care about this man, don’t care if he even buys you a drink. You don’t date, and there’s a reason you don’t anymore. But that’s a dark place you won’t go tonight or ever again.

He notices the shift in your mood as you sit up straighter and clench your jaw into place, focusing on not losing your temper over a simple thing as a name.

“Y’alright there? Look a little tense,” he asks, hovering his thick fingers closer to your hand as you pull away from him.

“I’m fine,” you bite back a little too harshly. He doesn’t respond, only nods. He knows you’re not fine, but he doesn’t press on it.

When the bartender comes over to drop off your drinks, you can’t help but notice the small silver name tag that’s latched on to the front of her black low-cut tank top. The name Hailey is in sparkly letters, and you feel shame instantly cover your face.

You’re a fucking idiot.

You take a sip of the fruity liquid and let it slide down the back of your throat, along with the bitterness and jealousy that was there seconds ago. You don’t even know his name, and you’re already acting jealous? Jesus. You’re in way over your head.

He takes a swig of his amber colored drink and swallows, a gentle smile returning to his handsome face. He sticks out his hand and you take it slowly, feeling the back of his calloused fingers as they burn into your hand, simmering like a hot fire as it runs through your veins. It’s firm, strong, powerful. And you know. You know you’re in trouble.

“The name’s Joel. What’s yours, sweetheart?” His hand lingers maybe a little too long in your hold, but you don’t shake him off. You just let him drop it when he’s ready, feeling the now cold hand as you flex your fingers into a fist in your lap, trying to remember exactly how his hand fit perfectly in yours.

You tell him your name, and it floats like a siren’s song off his lips, a trance like lull that sucks you in. “That’s a pretty name, darlin’. You come around here much? Haven’t seen you before. Think I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours,” he says with a smirk, his coffee colored eyes focused on you. You have to work hard to find words before you lose all control of your voice.

Pretty? Oh, he’s laying it on thick.

“No, but sounds like you’re a usual here. You come here a lot or something?” you ask, eyes fixed on the way he holds his crystal glass with a strong grasp.

“Somethin’ like that,” he chuckles, a look like he knows something you don’t displaying on the lines of his forehead.

“Of course you do. Not me, this is my first time here,” you say as you shift uncomfortably in your bar stool.

“And? How d’you like it?” he asks with questions lingering in his bright eyes.

“Honestly? It’s okay. It’s a little loud for my taste, but it’s decent,” you say as you take another sip of your fruity concoction.

“Oh, just decent? Tell me more of your thoughts,” he says as he puts an elbow on the bar top and leans his cheek on his knuckles, waiting for you to answer.

You shake your head. “Nah, you don’t want to hear my thoughts. They’re… well, they’re…” You lose yours words to the blaring music that stirs across the crowded dance floor.

“Enlighten me,” he says with a husky voice while he stirs the amber liquid, eyes fixed intently on you.

You gulp at the sharp eyesight, your knees knocking against the smooth bar walls anxiously. “Well, there’s no food here for starters. I’d kill for some chicken strips right now,” you groan, salivating at the thought of food right now.

He laughs in response. “Sweetheart, this is a club. This ain’t a cheap bar with finger foods.”

You snap back at him. “Well, it’d be a hell of a lot better if the club had some.”

His eyebrows raise in defense, holding out a hand to calm you down. “Alright, calm down, tiger. Gonna start seeing claws in a second,” he laughs as you sigh and nod your head. “What else?” he asks.

“What else what?” you question as you swirl your drink around mindlessly.

“What else would you change about the club?” His eyebrows knit together like he’s concentrating on what you have to say.

When was the last time a guy ever listened to you? Whatever, he asked so you’ll tell him exactly what you think.

“The signs are all red. It’d look better if there were also pink ones. Gives some light contrast and a more subtle look,” you shrug, sipping on more of the tasty alcohol in your hands.

“Hmmm, might not be a bad idea. Anything else?” His gaze stays on you as he throws back a gulp of whiskey, sitting the crystal glass back on the edge of the flat bar top.

“Why do you care? I’m just rambling,” you say with a convicted tone.

“I might’ve talked to the owner a couple of times here and there. Might give him some suggestions next time I see him,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes at his perfect dimples.

God, why does he have to be so pretty.

“Okay then,” you say with a smug look. “The alcohol menu could use some more options, other than tons of beers. Make it more friendly for cocktails and mixed drinks. And the VIP booths? Maybe save some for general guests to reserve when they get here. The Dj? He needs to mix up the tunes, these songs get old pretty quick. Throw some throwbacks in there, play some more upbeat rock songs. And for rooms? Maybe open up some private rooms for guests who want to chill in a quieter area where they can think. It’s fucking loud in here,” you say sternly as you cross your leg over your knee and give him a devious smirk, feeling like you just let him have it.

All he does is shake his head and let out a low whistle, a small chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest. “You’re a little firecracker, ain’t ya? Shit. You sure got a lot to pick apart. Don’t ya?”

You just shrug nonchalantly. “It’s just what I’d do differently. Not that my opinion matters.”

“Sure it does, sweetheart. I’ll be sure to give him the rundown when I see him.” He winks at you, and you feel a weird flutter in your stomach that you shouldn’t even be feeling. You chase it down with another drink of alcohol, letting the burn fill the void.

“This isn’t your scene I’m guessin’?” he asks carefully, honey eyes drawing back to yours again patiently.

“No, it’s really not,” you shake your head defeatedly. “My friends dragged me out tonight, said I needed to get out of the house and let loose. I had a really long week and I was looking forward to staying in with a glass of wine, but no. Just had to come out,” you say with a huff, your cheeks growing crimson with the sudden awareness of your bad attitude and complaining.

Christ. Just calm the fuck down. You’re going to scare him off.

“What is your scene then?” he asks, ignoring your whole meltdown about coming out in the first place.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes, surprised he wants to continue the conversation with your depressing ass.

“What’s your scene, angel?”

Angel. Oh.

“Oh, uh. I… I like more quiet environments. Like bookstores. There’s nothing more I like than strolling through a bookstore with an iced coffee in my hand, just smelling the fresh pages of the books,” you smile, thinking of the last time you went to the local bookstore and fawned over the latest edition of The Odyssey. Classics were some of your favorites.

“Books, huh? What’s your favorite?” he asks, general curiosity piqued as he continues staring at you, fixedly.

You eye him suspiciously but continue. “Pride and Prejudice,” you say quietly, eyes averting from his momentarily.

“Ahh, a classic. We are all fools in love,” he quotes almost perfectly, his Southern accent making every word sound like sweet poetry to your ears.

Your eyes grow wider, shock hitting your system. “You know Jane Austen?” you ask incredibly, your hand gripping your cup uncomfortably tight.

“Mhm. Read most of her books,” he says without a hint of surprise in his voice.

He reads classic books. Holy shit.

“Wow. That’s uh-” you lose your concentration, mouth gawking open at him. He reaches out and closes your jaw for you, his calloused fingers burning your skin the more he touches you.

“Don’t act too surprised. Some men like to read the classics too,” he smirks as he drops his hand, ending the contact way too soon. “What else?”

“Huh?” you ask, still shocked at his last words.

“What else do ya like?” His weight shifts just a tad and his knee skims yours as goosebumps form over your skin, the contact almost too much for you.

“Why?” you ask, almost self conscious of yourself. There’s way more interesting girls here than you, more up to his liking probably. You’re boring while all these other girls know how to party. You’re an introvert, you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be talking to him.

“Why what?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows, the lines above his forehead wrinkling at the notion as one of his tousled curls fall into his face. You almost want to push it back for him, almost.

“Why the interest in me? I’m not... I’m…”

“You’re not what?” he almost barks out as his eyes get a shade darker. It’s a little intimidating and makes you sit up straighter, aware of all the sulking you’ve done this evening. You’re just making it worse for yourself. You’re going to scare him off.

“I’m not like all these other girls in here. I’m… I’m shy, reserved. I don’t even come close to some of these women in here. I’m…”

He cuts you off as he cups your chin with his large hand, syrupy eyes clouding your vision as he stares at you intently. It makes your heart speed up frantically as blood rushes through your ears uncontrollably.

“That’s the point, sweetheart. You’re not like the rest of them. You’re interesting. You caught my attention. And you’re stunning,” he says smoothly as his eyes drop down the length of you, taking in the large slit in your tight black dress and trailing back up to your eyes, a breath catching deep in your throat.

He drops his hand from your chin and turns back to his glass of whiskey, pouring another shot down his throat as he slides it back against the sleek bar top, running a hand through his wild curls.

God, you want to run your hands through those curls, want to feel just how soft and silky they really are…

A rough voice pulls you from your distant thoughts as a tall, bulky man dressed in all black slides up beside you in the next bar stool, ogling your body as he fans his eyes over you in a disgusting manner. You want to roll your eyes and ignore him already.

“Aren’t you a sexy thing? Let me buy you a drink. What’ll it be? Tequila, beer on tap?” he asks with a snide smirk on his face.

“I've got her well taken care of. Thanks for the offer, though. But she won’t be needing that drink,�� he faintly growls under his breath, placing his large hand on your leg as he curls his calloused fingers around your inner thigh slowly. You about jump from the warm contact and how it instantly eases you in a weird way. You barely know the man, why did this feel… safe?

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize she was with anyone,” he huffs, eyeing Joel’s hand on your bare thigh as it burns through your skin like a scalding stove.

He’s just a man. He’s just a man. Get it together. You’re not doing this tonight.

“Think she’s in good hands,” Joel breathes, his voice deep and gruff as his eyes narrow at the man. He turns with a nod and walks in the opposite direction, going to find his next victim.

Joel keeps his thick fingers pressed to your thigh for a few more seconds then releases his hand, the same time you let go of the breath you were holding. “Uhh, thanks,” you say awkwardly, leaning against the bar top to look him in the eyes again. In those pretty brown doe eyes that light up tingling feelings that you want to keep at bay.

No hookups. None.

“No problem, sweetheart,” he says as he turns to look at you again, eyes lingering on more unanswered questions.

“So, you seein’ anyone?” he asks as he drags his thumb over the rim of his glass cup, slowly collecting condensation on the tip of his thumb. The sight makes you gulp.

“No,” you say quietly, shaking your head slowly.

“You’re tellin’ me that a girl as beautiful as you isn’t seein’ anyone?” he asks in disbelief, a small disbelieving laugh leaving his lips.

“Well, I’m not,” you shrug, eyes flicking back and forth between the thumb that languidly glides around the edge of the glass and his honey eyes that stay focused on you. It’s intimidating, to say the least.

“Why not?” he asks curiously, an eyebrow raising in question as he waits for your answer. You don’t really have a good one for him, not really wanting to go into the traumatic ex boyfriends you had been with before.

“I dunno. Just haven’t found the right one, I guess. Been busy. And besides, I’m not…” You stop mid sentence, staring at Joel’s scowl on his face. What was he so mad about now? What had you said?

“Don’t give me that answer. Sweetheart, the entire bar is staring at you.” You look behind you and gasp. He’s right. All the men gathered around the counter are trailing their eyes to you, eyes ogling you from a distance, hoping to get a chance to talk to you.

You swing your bar stool back around and stop as your knees lock with his, your eyes focusing on him. Only him. “As for me, I’ve had my eyes on you the minute you stepped through those doors. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, sweetheart. A real angel, at best,” coffee eyes honing in on you like a hawk stalking its prey. Suddenly you can’t hear the noisy music, can’t hear the clicking of the glasses behind you. It’s just you and Joel, in your own little bubble as the words crash down on you like a siren’s song.

Gorgeous. Sweetheart. You’re in trouble.

“Oh,” is all you can gasp out. He’s charming, almost too charming. And you hate him for it. Hate him for how he’s making you feel. Like you’re special, like you mean something. It makes you sick, so fucking sick.

You take a slow drink of your alcohol, hoping the taste will cool you off from the heat he just gave you. “Tell me, angel. When’s the last time a man has gotten you off?”

You choke on your drink and spit it out, wiping the cloth napkin over your chin as you catch your breath. “Excuse me?” you ask in disbelief.

“You heard me. It’s a simple question. When’s the last time a man has gotten you off?” His jaw tics and his eyebrow rises, his eyes hounding you as he waits for your answer.

You’re speechless, not believing what you just heard. But the way he’s looking at you now tells you he won’t back off till he knows. So you amuse him. “It’s been a couple of years,” you answer quietly, your voice barely audible above the ringing music.

“A couple years?” Joel asks incredulously. “Christ. No wonder you’ve been uptight lately. Y’need somebody to make you feel good, ain’t that right?” he asks with a rough, gravelly voice as he inches closer to you, your hands digging into the material of your black dress as he comes closer, closer, closer.

“I… I’m fine,” you say nervously, but he keeps leaning in, body hovering over yours as his hand ghosts over your thigh, causing goosebumps to raise in his presence.

“You’re not fine, sweetheart. You’re trembling. Your legs are shaking,” he points out as he trails his fingers lightly over your thigh, his whiskey breath breathing down your neck as he runs his lips across the shell of your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end.

“I could make you feel so good, sweetheart. Could make you feel things you’ve never felt before. You want it, don’t ya? I can almost smell how bad you want it,” he teases as he whispers into your ear, making your legs squeeze tighter together as you hold in a whine of need.

Fuck, stop. Not tonight, not with him. He’s too charming, too tempting, too hot for you.

The edge of his patchy salt and pepper scruff slides against your jaw, making you want to run your fingers profusely through it as you drag your nails over him. Imagining his mouth between your legs, his tongue on your clit as he makes meticulous circles over you.

Fuck.

You catch your breath and watch him pull back just the slightest, his honey eyes now darker in shade, more prominent as his pupils expand wider into dark circles. “Let me give it to ya, angel. Let me take care of you,” he says with bared teeth, a devilish grin taking form on his face as his body crowds yours against the bar stool, just hovering as his hands cover the sides of you, fingers barely grazing your hips that send a fire right through your lungs.

You catch your breath and say the most logical response. “I don’t need it. I don’t do this, I don’t…”

“You don’t what, darlin’? Don’t let a man make you feel good? Don’t let a man touch you where you need it most?” he purrs, calloused fingers finding your thigh as he runs his hand up your smooth skin, leaving burn marks with every place he touches. It’s hot, sadistic, evil.

“I… I…” You’re completely flustered from him, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. He’s so fucking charming and handsome and fuck. He’s trying to coax you, and he’s doing a damn good job at it, too.

“I can see how bad you want it,” he purrs. “The way your cheeks are flushed, and your breathing is erratic. The way you’re squeezing your thighs together as if to pretend that ache isn’t stirring in there for me. The way you keep sucking on your bottom lip and staring at me with those needy, pretty eyes,” he coaxes, leaning into you again as he runs his hot tongue over the shell of your ear.

And fuck, does it feel good.

“You want it, baby. Give in. Let me fix that throbbing ache in that pretty pussy of yours. Let me turn this good little angel into a bad little devil,” he growls, making a wave of slick run down your center as you choke on a moan. He only laughs at your needy response, your middle completely full of warmth now from his daring actions and smoldering words.

When he finally pulls back, you ask the one question that keeps ringing in your mind. “What’s in it for you?” you ask with the cock of your eyebrow, chin jutting out as you wait for an obnoxious answer that any other man would give you.

“Only the pleasure of knowing I took care of you,” he smirks, eyes glazing over at you with hunger in his deep voice.

“What? You’re not gonna make me get on my knees and give you a blowjob like any other guy would?” you ask with the taste of metallic in your throat, bitter and stale as you swallow it back down. That’s what any other man would do. No one’s ever asked what you wanted, only what they needed. Sick fucks.

“No,” he answers honestly.

“No?” you ask with bewildered eyes.

“No. I’m not other guys, sweetheart,” he states simply, the hunger still there in his dark eyes as his chest rises and falls in waves. He’s looking at you with so much intent in his eyes that it makes you dizzy.

“So, what do you say? Want me to make you feel good?” he asks as he licks his lower lip seductively. The sight about knocks you out of your chair.

“I-uh. I… need a moment. Where are the bathrooms?” you ask hurriedly as you stand up from the bar stool, pulling your short dress down over your thighs.

“Down that dark hall and first door on your left,” he says as he points in the direction of the bathrooms. You nod and race off, dodging a couple making out as you walk around them, eager to get to the bathroom.

You shove past some people dancing and walk as fast as your high heels can carry you. You make your way through the dim lit hallway and crash into the door, swinging it open as you step into the lavish, huge bathroom. You stop at the porcelain sink and look into the lit up mirror as you stare at your reflection.

You freeze when you see just how flushed you are. Your eyes are as wide as an owl’s and the veins in your neck are pulsing like crazy. Your lace panties are drenched, and you’re so turned on that you feel as if you’re about to explode. You need to cum, you need to stop the ache in between your thighs.

What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t hook up with guys. This isn’t like you. But Joel… Joel is so devilishly handsome, so charming, a gentleman, a smooth talker. He practically got you off by just hovering over you and whispering dirty words into your ear. He was too much, this was too much. You should just go back home. But you want this. You want him.

You take one more long look at yourself in the mirror and sigh, hands digging into the sink as you give up completely. Fuck it. You want him, so you’ll have him.

When you open the door and leave the lit up bathroom, you about topple over as you hit something that feels like a thick brick wall. You look up and realize it’s Joel you crash into. You gawk at the way he leans up against the wall, clearly waiting for an answer from you.

“So, decide what you’re gonna do, angel?” he asks smoothly, his thick voice dripping like syrup all over you.

Fuck this. This man is a menace.

He takes a step forward and you take one back, a game of tag going on. But it’s not just any tag. No. He’s the hungry wolf, and he came to eat you alive.

“Not exactly…” you whisper, your voice caught in your throat.

He chuckles lightly as he takes another step forward and another, backing you up into the dark hallway that seems to go on for miles. “It’s simple, sweetheart. You can either leave or you can let me indulge you,” he purrs as he comes closer, chasing you like a game of cat and mouse.

“What if I don’t want to?” you ask out of breath, your voice getting choked up as you swallow down want and desire.

He clicks his tongue at you, coming in for the kill. “Now, now, sweetheart. Don’t be coy. I can smell the arousal already drippin’ from you. Can see how bad you want this with the way your eyes widen and lips part for me,” he says seductively, pupils blowing out as he takes a step forward and another one until he’s successfully backed you into the darkest corner of the hallway he can manage.

You knock into the cold black wall and gasp when he cages you in, letting his hands linger against your thighs as you feel the heat of his fingertips press into your hip bones. He leans over and presses his lips to the shell of your ear, whispering incantations into it as you fall into a dreamlike trance.

“Y’know, there’s more than one way to seduce a lady. I can teach you so many things, angel. Can make you cum in more ways than one, can make you feel things you’ve only dreamt about,” he whispers, letting one of his hands run up the side of your thigh, gradually lifting your dress as he teases you with his hot breath hitting your ear.

“Yeah?” you ask audibly, your own voice betraying you as you give in to his coaxing.

“Mmmm. Yeah, that’s right. Ya want it, angel? Want me to show you what I’m talkin’ about?” he asks as he blows gently in your ear, making slick pool in your center as a whine gets caught in your throat.

“Mhm,” you choke out while holding in a moan.

“Say it. Say it,” he purrs out, the soft lilt of his voice hitting the back of your spine as tingles start to pour down your body. “Pretty, pretty please. Need to hear you say it,” he whispers, his hot breath breathing down your neck like a sauna you want to jump head first into.

“Yes, yes. Want you to show me,” you plead, your voice needy with want.

“Gotta say please first,” he teases as he spreads your legs apart and places his leg in between yours, hiking his knee up to brush against your clothed folds. You whine at the action.

“Please, Joel. Pleaseeee,” you beg.

“Good girl,” he praises as he lifts the skirt of your dress, cupping his hand over your sex as you writhe in his grasp. He smirks at you and pushes the lace to the side, freeing your wet pussy as the cold air hits it, making you bite your lip in response.

He slides two calloused fingers through your wet folds, gliding down lower as he sinks them inside your dripping hole. You moan at the feeling.

“Christ. You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, angel,” he groans, hooking them up to that sweet spongy spot that makes you see stars. You choke on a moan as you clench around him.

“Ahh, there it is. There’s that sweet spot,” he purrs as he goes in knuckles deep into your wetness. He gently slides his digits out and drags his covered fingers up, up, up, as they find your clit and run slow, meticulous circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you moan out as you grab the front of his shirt and moan into his ear, digging your fingers into the cotton material as you hold on for dear life.

“That’s right, angel. Let me hear you, that’s a good girl,” he praises. He takes the two drenched fingers that were just inside you and pop them in his mouth, sucking off all the slick that covers his large digits. Your jaw drops at the sight.

“God, you taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he groans as he shifts his leg in between yours again, bending it just slightly as he cages you in again.

The room is hot, humid, loud, and you’re fully aware that anyone could walk down here and see you fully on display as Joel has his way with you. But you don’t care, don’t say anything about it. You just want him.

Him, him, him.

“Now, sweetheart. Gonna need you to do something for me. Call this lesson one on ways to get you off,” he instructs as he digs his hands into your hips and pulls you forward to where you’re level with his muscled thigh. “Want ya to ride me, angel,” he says, voice gravelly and hot in your ear.

“You want me to… ride you? How?” you ask with your brows knitted together.

“On my thigh, sweetheart. C’mon. Put that pretty pussy on my thigh. Want you to cover my jeans, baby. Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he coaxes, dragging your hips forward until you’re resting your center on his clothed thigh.

“Oh,” you respond as he slowly grinds your hips into his jeans, showing you exactly what he wants you to do. He lets go and lets you set the pace, taking control as your clit drags against the rough material, catching on the most sensitive areas as you pull him closer and dig your nails into his shirt, stifling out a moan as you move up and down, up and down. Feeling the building pressure low in your stomach as you choke on another moan.

“There ya go, that’s a good girl. Ride me just like that, angel. Doin’ so good,” he praises as you feel just how turned on he’s getting. The bulge is tight around his zipper, and you can see just how big and thick he is underneath the dark denim.

Fuck. You want him, you want him so fucking bad but you’ll have to wait because right now you can’t focus on anything but your building orgasm. It’s so… it’s sooo. Oh.

You rub your aching clit against the curve of his large thigh, grinding into him as you hit that spot again and again as you rut down into him even more, gripping the edge of his shirt so tight that you swear you’re about to rip it off him.

“Joellll, it feels good,” you moan with ragged breaths as he leans down and licks the shell of your ear, whispering dirty thoughts as his hot breath runs down the base of your neck, making you sweat against his large form.

“Yeah? Just like that, angel. Bein’ such a fuckin’ good girl,” he praises with a low, gravelly voice as it consumes you whole, sending more slick down his jeans as you continuously ruin his denim.

You moan again at the praise. This is so hot, he’s so hot. And he’s so good with his words. He could sweet talk you all night long just like this if he wanted to.

“You like that, huh? Like bein’ told how good of a girl you’re bein’,” he smirks, dragging his lips over your jaw as you smell his woodsy, whiskey scent all over you. You want to taste it, drink it up till you’re drunk on him, suffocate on his intoxicating scent as it spirals you into a pit of warmth.

“Yes, yes,” you whine as he presses his thigh deeper into your center, feeling the wave of pleasure take over as you’re right there. So close, but not quite there. Almost, almost.

“C’mon, angel. Be a good girl and cum for me. Wanna see you coat my thigh with your sweet cum,” he growls, lowering his hands to your ass as he squeezes and presses your hips forward, rocking into his leg as you ride the pleasure out, feel that building release about to break.

He drops his plush lips against your neck and sucks just above your collarbone, right against the sensitive spot that drives you crazy as you moan against his lips on your skin. You feel the smirk grow on his lips as a low groan comes from his mouth as he bites down again, feeding your raw adrenaline that chases your pleasure.

The blaring music and chanting crowd disappears from the room, becoming muddled as you focus on what’s in front of you, the strong arms that grip you and clench you down to his thigh, the dark eyes that envelop you as you slide deeper and deeper into a dreamlike state. You can’t hear anything, can’t feel anything other than your ragged moans, Joel’s labored breathing, the feel of his denim against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the calloused fingers that tease the back of your thighs, the hot breath that blows down your neck as he crowds your space. It’s just you and Joel, nothing else matters. Nothing else but this. Whatever this may be.

You jar forward, catching your clit on a wrinkle as it tugs at you, screaming your name to let go. Let go, let go. You can feel the white hot heat take hold of you, feel it slowly sliding down your center as your insides flutter and clench around nothing. You’re about to cum, about to release your heat all over him. And he knows. He knows.

“Don’t be shy, angel. Let me have it. Cum for me,” he growls dominantly, wrapping his hands tight around your waist as he pushes you down deep against the denim covering his thighs, pressing your throbbing clit at just the right spot as you feel yourself let go.

You dig your fingers into the collar of his shirt and press your face against the crook of his neck as you cum hard, feeling the slick spill out of you as you tense up over his thigh, squeezing your fingers around him as you moan his name loudly into his ear, hearing your breath hitch as he hums in approval.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Say my name. Yeah, just like that. There ya go,” he praises as he rocks you gently against his thigh, making sure you get every ounce of cum out of your dripping pussy.

You take a minute to come back down to earth, back to where you don’t hear the ringing in your ears, where you don’t see the bright lights covering your vision anymore. He slowly lets his hands loosen around your waist, gently leaning you back against the wall as he slides you off his thigh, covering your soaked folds with your ruined panties as he sets them back in place against your center. You wince as his fingers brush up over your sensitive clit and let him pull your skirt back down over your thighs.

He takes a step back and brushes his fingers against the damp stain on his jeans, slowly bringing them up to his mouth as he sucks his thick digits into his mouth, lapping up your slick as he stares straight at you with blown out pupils, making you gawk at the sight.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet, angel. Goddamn.” He curses again under his breath and drops them to his side as he sticks them deep in his pocket looking for something. Whatever he grabs, he covers it in the base of his palm, not letting you quite see what it is.

“Did you enjoy that… lesson?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow up as he stares at you with wild eyes, his tousled curls a mess as sweat beads at a few of the curls pressed against his forehead.

Lesson? Does this mean there would be more?

“Mhm,” you hum out, too fucked out to give a straight answer right now as you were still stuck on the fact that this man had just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life. Not even your vibrator was a match for him. And he hadn't even put his mouth on you yet or put his cock in you. That was saying something.

He was dangerous, tempting, a bad habit you could get used to. He was trouble, a menace. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care. You wanted more, needed more from him. Just him.

It’s like he hears your thoughts, smirking up at you as he lifts your chin and brushes his calloused thumb against your bottom lip, his eyes trailing down to stare at them as if he was thinking of sinking his mouth down on you. You hold your breath, not ready for that yet. It was too soon, too intimate of a thing.

He drops his thumb from your lip and trails it against your jawline, dropping down a level so his eyes sink into yours.

Fuck, he’s hot.

“If you ever need anything and I mean anything, I’m just a phone call away.” He grabs your hand as he sticks a business card in your palm, closing your fingers over it as he brings your hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of your knuckles as you suck in a deep breath as his soft lips kiss your skin. It feels good. So good.

“Hope to see you soon, angel.” He drops your hand back to your side as he winks and smirks a devilish grin your way, turning back around as he makes his way back towards the rush of the crowd, entering the noise once more as you watch him disappear into a sea of people as his tousled curls get pulled into the bodies, leaving you standing in shock in the dark alone.

You uncurl your fingers and run them along the edge of the glossy white business card. You turn it over and read it once, twice, three times as your eyes widen. You read it once more to make sure your eyes don’t deceive you, but you only see the same thing sprawled across the card each time. It reads Joel Miller: Owner of Club Inferno. His number sits above the words, leaving you breathless as you realize just who you were talking to earlier. Who you were complaining to earlier.

Holy shit. Joel was the club owner?!

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. You were in trouble. You were in so much fucking trouble. How would you show your face here again? You wouldn’t. Unless…. unless you decided to come back for more. And you wanted more with him.

You take a deep breath and lean against the cold wall, trying to get ahold of yourself as you rethink everything that had happened tonight. The drinks, the conversations, the flirting, the fucking part where he made you cum while he pressed you against his strong, muscular body.

As you close your eyes for a second and swallow down your orgasmic high from minutes ago, you slowly open them back up and come to terms with yourself. You can’t see yourself not coming back here and not letting him give you another lesson…

You need it, need him. You’d never had a man make you feel so bold, so sexy before in your life. And the way he was all about what felt good to you? Well it was… exhilarating. You wanted more, craved more. So you knew right then, you had to come back. For one more thrill, one more touch, one more orgasm. You’d come back… for him.

Joel Miller was going to be the fucking bane of your existence, you just knew it.

259 notes · View notes

targaryenrealnessdarling · 11 months

Text

No Pain, No Gain | Part 3 |PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem! reader

A/N: you guys are absolutely feral for this and I love it, thank you legitimately for all the love. Once again 😘 @ewanmitchellcrumbs , hope you luv uwu

Series Masterlist

warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

When Baela messaged you with this screenshot.

You thought, hell fucking yes.

What better way to take your mind off thinking about your personal trainer’s dick, undo about an hour’s worth of cardio and feel like shit afterwards?

2 for 1 cocktails.

Storm’s End was pretty popular so Baela, being the legend she is, booked for four of you to go. Baela, her twin, Rhaena, you and a mutual friend from university, Maris Baratheon. Her Uncle owned the pub/club so she used her connections to get a further 50% off on friends and family discounts.

God it was going to be a long night.

After getting ready in the living room, Rhaena absolutely hogging the Spotify playlist, all three of you buzzed on a glass of Prosecco hobble to Storm’s End.

“Rhaena, take those stupid shoes off” you nudge her shoulder a bit, which takes her off balance. She’s wearing heels that are far too big and far too high for her. Tottling around like a newborn giraffe.

She yelps a bit but glares at you, “At least I’m taller than you now, short-ass”

Hand on heart, you feign offense, “Who put 50p in you?”

Baela nudges you from your other shoulder, “Children, stop it”

Maris pipes up from behind, playfully squeezing your butt, “Where did you get this from?”

“Ow! Maris!”

Rhaena laughs, “Our creepy cousin is giving her personal training”

“Hey, you” Baela glares at her twin, “He’s not ‘creepy’, just misunderstood. And be nice, his dad just died!”

“Oh yeah cos everyone loved Viserys” Rhaena mused.

You give an awkward look to Maris as you enter Storm’s End, giving a name as they lead you to a booked table.

“He didn’t seem that bothered about it” you shrug as you huff off your coat.

Maris, sat next to you in the booth, hangs her jaw open, “Fuck you, look at these!” she says squeezing your biceps, “I’m jealous I don’t get to see you in the bikini”

Rhaena snorts, “Maris, your bisexual is showing”

“Sorry, sorry”

You must admit that when you were getting ready to go out with the girls tonight, you’d made the effort. The black cocktail dress hanging in the back of your wardrobe, that probably hasn’t been touched since the graduation party a few years ago, looked tempting. So imagine your surprise to find that it still fit, snug in all the right places. It wasn’t quite warm enough to go out in just that, so you pulled a coat over it. Even here, in the darkened part of Storm’s End, a sort of anxiety prickled at you at how low cut it was. You were usually not so brave.

It had been a while since Maris came to visit all of you, so the drinks came easily. And effectively being as cheap as water, it was easy to put all the cocktails away. One particular cocktail had you constantly sneezing from the ginger in it, but you were nicely drunk now, engaged in conversation.

Maris was swooning over a girl she’d met on a night out.

“You know when you see a woman and you’re just like ‘yes’ she is perfect” Maris swoons, slurring her words.

Almost in unison you all say, “No”

“Maris, we are hetero beyond hetero” you laugh, sipping the cocktail and leaning against Baela on your other side. She leans in as well, partially, if not more drunk than you right now.

“Okay fine, I’m not having this conversation with you virgins”

“Whoa whoa whoa! Who said virgin?” Rhaena furrows her brows, angry and you genuinely have to hold back a laugh with how loud she’s being as several people turn around, hearing what she’s said.

“Rhaena, I am willing to bet yours has grown back it’s been so long”

“Nuh-uh” you point to yourself, head wavy from all the drinks, “that’s me~”

Maris orders more, “Didn’t you and what’s-his-face break up like two months ago?”

“Yesss, but we didn’t have sex for ages before that. So if anything it’s me who’s the sad little virgin of the group” you say, polishing off your cocktail to go in for another.

Baela snorts, “At least until she gets a mouthful of Aemond”

You almost spit out your drink, glaring at Baela. The alcohol has made you more…morally loose, yes. But you didn’t expect Baela to say that.

“What the fuck Baela!”

“Oh come on, she’s been cracking out the vibrator everytime I even say his name”

Maris sees your bright red face, “Don’t” you warn.

“Oh my god, as if you have a thing for creepy Aemond?!”

You raise your eyebrows, “Okay, describe him”

“Tall, lanky, skinny…I guess?”

Stalking time.

You raise a finger, putting your cocktail down to get your phone. You quickly bring up his instagram and show her the one photo where his whole body is in shot.

Pretty much as soon as the screen lights her face, her jaw drops.

“Oh my god”

“Can you two please stop thirsting over our cousin, please” Rhaena rolls her eyes,

Maris zooms in, “Hold on, I want to see what all the fuss is about”

She zooms in, really taking him in and the both of you fawn over the photo for a bit too long. Describing everything. His legs, arms that poke out of the shirt he’s wearing with veins. Ugh. His neck, his chest, his shoulders. How tall and broad he is. Just everything.

“Would you not let that man destroy you?” you ask Maris, snatching your phone out her hand,

In your drunken haze, you freeze as your finger slips and double-taps the screen, liking the photo.

“Oh shit”

Rhaena raises her eyebrows, “what”

“I just fucking liked the photo” you drop the phone and put your head in your hands, vision spinning from the alcohol as well as the embarrassment.

The girls erupt in laughter, which isn’t helping.

You find the courage to look and see that the photo is a good ten or so months old. And the little dot next to his profile shows he’s suddenly active. He’s definitely noticed.

Fuckfuckfuck.

“Hey, you never know, it might be a good ‘in’ to get him to bang you” Maris chimes.

You’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life. And yet, you can’t help your mind wander at the possibility of it.

Would he?

He was pretty handsy last time.

But he’s a personal trainer, surely it’s wrong for you to pay him and bang him when he’s on the job.

No you can’t.

You can’t imagine…him bare chested pressed against you, hot, sticky and sweaty from the efforts, broad shoulders closing you into the mattress, large hands splayed across your waist, teeth biting at your neck, prying your thighs apart, rutting into yo-

“Hello! Earth to y/n!”

Fuck, you’ve got to stop doing this.

“Do us all a favour and fuck him” Maris muses, “You’re like in heat or something”

Despite the embarrassment of it all, the night continues on and Baela is far too drunk to carry on. So being the good friend you were and mother of the group, you pull her hand around your shoulder and escort her home. She’s wobbly at best and seems to laugh at the smallest thing, and even though you’re drunk as well, the situation earlier sobered you up considerably.

“I have a headahceee….” Baela moans.

“I heard you the first three times you said it”

“Can we get some painkillers, we don’t have any hic back at the flat..”

With an annoyed groan you drag her into the nearest corner shop, it’s close-ish to home, so hopefully she swallows the painkillers, shuts the fuck up and you can tuck her in on the sofa.

She waits at the entrance while you pay, talking absent-mindedly to a stranger.

“Baela, don’t talk to strangers please” you say as you shove the box of painkillers in her hand. The man she’s talking to smirks amused at the situation.

“This isn’t a stranger, it’s my other cousin!” she says, her drunkenness making her far too loud.

“Oh yeah?” you crack open the bottle of water you bought, taking a swig before passing to Baela, “Is that true?” you ask the other man.

It could be true. He’s got platinum hair, a smile that spells trouble and that weird cockiness all Targaryen men seem to have. He gives you a bit of a wink, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Unfortunately, yes. Aegon” he extends his hand and you tentatively shake it, still a bit weary. He looks at you like he already knows you, it’s very weird.

“Yeah that sound like a Targaryen name”

“He’s Aemond’s older brother” Baela says while taking a sip of water, accidentally letting it fall over her face and down her neck,

“Unfortunately, also yes” Aegon smirks, “She looks a bit worse for wear”

“We can thank Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails for that, can’t we Bae?” you smile, hooking an arm around her waist to steady her, she just grunts in response, “what are you doing here anyway?” you ask Aegon as he’s now found some interest in walking alongside you both.

He shrugs, “Just came out to get a few bits, do you guys want a lift home? Aemond’s parked around the corner”

“Yeah actu-” your mind works before your mouth does and your face pales a bit, embarrassment working its way into your belly.

Baela has that stupid fucking smirk on her face again, wide and giddy like a child, “Yes please! Y/n, this is your chance to get Aemond to ram-”

“Enough of that” you warn sternly, slapping a hand over mouth, but Aegon gives an amused grin, seemingly catching onto the subject of the conversation, “We’re fine getting home thanks”

“Don’t be stubborn, come on” Aegon says, helping Baela down the road.

A gnawing embarrassment curls in your gut. The last thing you want is to see him. And this is reinforced when you round the corner and Aemond is in the driver’s seat, looking up when he sees three figures. His eyes dart between Aegon and Baela for a moment before landing firmly on you, shamelessly looking down and then back up again.

You take a deep breath. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

Try as you might, you make for the back seat, but with a shit-eating grin, Aegon makes it there first, under the guise of helping Baela in the backseat and making sure she’s okay. And you want lightning to strike him down right now with how fucking smug he looks.

A family trait, you see.

With an annoyed huff and without looking at the smug blonde in the driver’s seat, you get in the passenger seat, quickly pulling the seatbelt around you. Aemond doesn’t say anything either, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

Oh God, his thighs.

Stopstopstop.

You can almost see in your peripheral the way he’s smirking to himself, thinking it’s all very amusing.

“Aem!” Baela shrieks drunkenly from the backseat, luckily cutting the already existing tension, “Where did you come from?”

Aem chuckles lowly and it might be the first proper time you’ve heard him laugh, he turns to his cousin in the back seat, “I could ask you the same thing”

“I found them in the shop, what was it, Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails?” Aegon laughs.

Aemond huffs a laugh in response, raising an eyebrow in your direction, “Training going well then?”

You only have to turn your head a little to face him and when you do, you regret it immediately. In the proximity of the car, with you in the front seat, it’s achingly close. You try to muster up an indifferent look.

“Don’t live in the gym like you do”

He smirks, poking his cheek with his tongue, and turns back to the road, putting the car in gear to drive off. And now his gaze is averted, you briefly let your eyes go over him. It was only fair, he did the same to you. And you turn away quickly with a sigh when you see he’s wearing fucking dark grey sweatpants. All those thoughts return at breakneck speed, the sinful, lustful ones you only think of when you’re alone with your vibrator and it makes you squeeze your thighs together harshly, and you swear you see a flicker of Aemond’s head move in your direction when you do it. Not that he shows it on his face.

Aegon’s playlist is in full swing and it’s not a long car journey, but it certainly fucking feels like it.

You’re just thankful that Baela is quietly drunk in the backseat, half asleep, so she can’t say anything incriminating about the desires you’d divulged in female confidence.

“Stop the car” Baela says hurriedly, undoing her seatbelt.

Aemond brakes, looking back at her in the rearview mirror.

“Oh shit” Aegon curses as Baela gets out the car like a bat out of hell to run behind the closest tree, halfway across the park. Aegon follows with the bottle of water you’d bought her.

In any other situation, you’d be glad to have a borderline sick and vomiting Baela out of the car. But right now, left alone with Aemond after the sheer stupidity of the night so far, you want her to come back as soon as possible.

Aemond sighs, at least glad Baela had the decency to get out of the car before being sick. He reaches for the gearstick to move the car out of the way of the middle of the road. And the smug bastard completely misses and his large hand makes contact with your knee instead. You can do nothing but gasp when he does it.

“Sorry” he murmurs without moving his hand.

When you look at him, he stays eerily still, his eyes flitting across your face to take in the dazed, stunned and impassioned look on your face. Your mouth seems to go dry, brain made of cotton, desperately trying to come up with something to say, but failing.

Aemond withdraws his hand back to the gearstick, but not before giving the flesh above your knee a firm squeeze, burning his touch into them, leaving behind prickling heat on your skin. Seeing that you’ve been caught staring at him for too long, you flick back, pushing your legs together impossibly tighter.

He seems to delight in the reaction.

“Have fun on instagram earlier?”

Oh fuck my life.

You turn to him, embarrassed, but his eyes are on the road just as Aegon and Baela get back in the car with a few rough and tumbles. You hate how easy it is for him to get a rise out of you like this, so you turn away and just watch the night life go by as Aemond drives the 5 minute route back to your flat.

Almost as soon as he pulls up, Aegon’s helping Baela out and you follow, just about to shut the passenger side door when-

“See you at our session tomorrow” Aemond muses smugly. His eyes glimmering with mischief.

Not knowing what to say and far too horny to even form a thought, you take Baela back into your arms and make for the flat, but not before looking over your shoulder to see Aemond’s dark gaze over the steering wheel.

Once in the flat, Baela collapses on the sofa, murmuring incoherently. Like a good mother, you put a glass of water and painkillers on the side table, pulling the blanket over her.

“Did you get railed?...” Baela groans, to which you bite your lip.

“No Baela”

With a disappointed groan, she turns and almost instantly falls asleep, aided by the dizzying effect of the alcohol creeping in. You smile at her, she’s always been like this when she’s drunk. Always the wingman. Or wingwoman, you supposed.

Halfway through taking off your makeup, your phone pings with a notification.

Absolute.

Bastard.

You wake up the next day shockingly kind of okay. Baela on the other hand is milking this for all it’s worth. Being a Saturday, you supposed she’s allowed some time to recover.

But when you use the blender to make a smoothie, she groans, “Are you doing this on purpose...” she groans, with a wet cloth on her forehead.

Forcing the urge to laugh at her away, “Sorry hun”

She lifts the cloth to glare at you, “Why are you in gym gear, it’s Saturday”

Your mind races a bit, a blush making its way up your neck and a familiar heat pooling in your stomach.

“Last session today before the holiday” you say, leaning against the counter to sip the smoothie, “only day free was Saturday”

Baela pulls a face, as if amused.

“What”

“Nothing”

You scoff, “Fuck you, I told you all that under the influence, it doesn’t count”

“Oh yes it does~”

She goes on and on and on it feels like, about how badly you said you wanted Aemond to destroy you last night. She seemingly doesn’t remember the finer details about how you got home. You wished you could forget. You can still feel the way his hand gripped your leg so tightly, the bare skin prickling up.

Ping.

The dreaded ring of a notification. And it’s like he can fucking sense when people are talking about him.

Dramatically, you flop on the sofa, showing Baela the text.

“I don’t know how many more signs you need” she reaches for her go to hangover cure, the biggest bar of chocolate you’ve ever seen and a diet pepsi, “I don’t want to hear anything about it, if you do though because that’s gross. Tell Maris or something”

“Nothing is going to happen”

“Uh huh, whatever you say hoe”

With even Baela’s belief in you dwindling by the second, with a heaving sigh you manage to plop into your car, prop your phone on the mount for directions to the address Aemond sent you and drive. Something curls in your gut all the way there. Nerves? Excitement? Nausea? Was it the Indian food…

You know the answer already but it doesn’t make it any better.

The car that picked you up with Baela the previous day is parked on a driveway, a black Mercedes.

Twat.

With a breath to stable yourself, you trudge with your gym bag to the front door. The front garden is curiously and meticulously tidy, grass mowed and in general looked beautiful. A stark contrast, you think, to the guy inside. For a moment, you honestly think why the hell you’re here. Or maybe it’s just scary how easy it was for you to just…go with it and come to his house.

He appears in the doorway mere seconds after you press the doorbell, making you think he had seen your car pull up, but this notion is quickly dashed when you see him. He leans against the doorframe on his forearm, having to look down at you with a bottle of something in one hand.

“Didn’t get lost then” he says with a smug smile. The embarrassment and those thoughts that were loud the night before come back at breakneck speed, making the heat flood your cheeks uncontrollably. You just hope that he doesn’t see it, but by the amused look on his face, he totally does.

You roll your eyes a bit and his smile seems to drop for a second. He removes his arm from the doorframe, your eyes drag over what he’s wearing briefly. It’s not the black shirt he usually has on, but a grey one with patches of dark at the neckline and middle, you surmise he’s probably already been working out before you got here. The image of his taut stomach sticking to his grey shirt will forever be seared into your memory.

Walking through his home is like walking through a show-home, as in, it doesn’t look like it’s been lived in. It’s weirdly pristine, smells like air freshener and detergent. And as you follow him to the back of the house, where you assume the home gym is, you can’t help but stare at the dark grey patch in the middle of his back and the way his shoulders move when he takes a drink.

There’s some stairs that lead down and you quirk a brow, “a basement gym?”

He stops at the stairs, looking up, his eyes somewhere else before he meets yours. His hair is up in a bun again, like the first time, with stray pieces falling out, “Yes?”

“How very serial killer of you” you muse, following him down the stairs, “Should I share my location with someone”

He huffs a laugh, opening the door and leading you inside with the smallest of touches to the small of your back, “Unless you want to”

Even the borderline ghostly touch against the small of your back through your coat is enough to make your brain feel like it’s mush.

What if he’d ventured down, using his large hand to squeeze your flesh between his fingers? Moulding the skin to shape of his palms?

“Drink?” he asks, strangely more chirpy.

Pulling off your coat you reply, “No, got my water, thanks”, you try and make your voice as stable as possible.

His home gym is actually quite big, lit by several spotlights since there’s no natural light. It hasn’t got any machines, but several weights and sit up benches, perhaps he brings some clients here sometimes? Your body shudders inconsolably at the thought of being laid on the sit up benches, flat with him looming over.

He’s filling up his own water bottle from the cooler in the corner, back to you, “So what were you doing on instagram?” he asks, and you think you can hear the smile on his face.

Taking advantage of him not looking your way, you adjust your sports bra. It’s a different set this time, since the other is in the wash, a dark rusty orange two-piece. He turns just as you’re pulling your hair up into a bun, eyes hooded and trained on you before briefly flitting across the new outfit.

“Stalking your creepy profile” you answer, disinterested.

He raises an eyebrow, “Creepy?”

“That’s what Rhaena said”

“Ah” he responds, “she would”

“Why’s that?”

He motions loosely to his eye that you supposed he was blind in, “Freaks people out”

You furrow your brows, “Why would it freak people out?”. You ask it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against his water bottle in thought.

“Does it not freak you out?”

You shake your head softly, “No”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you when he takes a sip of water and it makes your thighs feel somewhat like jelly.

“Right, stretches”

Oh boy.

It’s almost as bad as the first time you’ve done them together, except he’s extra handsy, smirking with the knowledge that you were talking about him in your spare time. This time, when you’re doing the 60 second planks on the mat, his hand stays there on your back, moving every now and then slowly between your shoulders, to the nape of your neck. And there’s no mirror in his home gym, so you’re only hoping and praying that he’s not taking this opportunity to look at you in the skin tight leggings too closely.

Although secretly, you kind of hope he is.

“That’s it...” he praises lowly, and it takes you so off guard that you think you might just crack. But you resort to just biting your lip, trapping the skin between your teeth painfully.

Squats are genuinely no better. He stays behind you the entire time, achingly close with his hands on his hips and everytime you go down to do one, you can’t help the desperate thrum of anticipation in your belly as you make contact only very slightly with his leg.

Once you’re done with stretching and core, with the lack of windows in the room you’re in, it’s very hot and you wipe your forehead a little, slightly out of breath as you take a sip of water. Feeling as if you are being watched you turn your head slightly and see him sat on the sit-up bench watching you intensely.

“Shit” you curse as some water leaks out of the bottle onto your chest and right down your sports bra. You try and wipe it away quickly, your chest already glistening with sweat. But when you look up, you see his eyes quickly flit from there to your eyes, darkened. One of his thighs jitters as he bounces his leg, as if aggravated.

“Sorry” you breathe, grounding yourself, “what next” you ask, desperately trying to lighten the tension.

“Bench press” he responds, and there’s that same tone he used last time. The tone that he used after literally scaring your ex away. But you swallow thickly and nod and sit where he once was.

He explains how to do it and you take it all in a bit until you realise he’s going to be standing right behind you and your cheeks flood with heat again, tingling down the back of your neck. He just stands there as he usually does, but from this angle (and it’s very difficult to not look at this point) your head is right at his waistline and had there not been 30kg combined in your arms right now, you probably would have given more of a reaction to it.

But you do your reps, with him watching in silence, seeing you break a sweat. As far as you are aware, his eyes forever on your form, but really it’s zoned in on that shadow that disappears down your sports bra and at the exposed bit of midriff beneath that to your leggings.

As you’re doing the last few, he rounds the side and places his hand flat on your ribs, right under your sports bra’s hem and you freeze, an involuntary gasp escapes.

When you meet eyes, he’s already regarding you.

“Relax”

Licking your lips nervously, you nod and breathe in and out deeply. But he never takes his hand off you, almost making sure you’re doing what he says.

The next few reps are probably the most difficult. Never being able to stop thinking about his fingers on your bare skin, his thumbs drawing very very small circles on the hot flesh there. The air feels charged, as if one wrong move could ignite something, like striking a flame near gas.

He moves his hand lower to your abdomen, making you freeze and look at him again. There’s no smug smile on his face, just a hooded, promiscuous expression, one that makes a deep, blurry thrum right where his hand is.

“Push here”

You try and do as he says for the last few, but it’s hard with the way he’s staring at you. And when you let out a huff and put the weights back where they belong on the rack, he nods slightly.

“Good girl”

He sees the way your face flushes this time, but makes no comment on it. Instead he rights himself to stand, extending his toned arm to you to help you up, not breaking the intensity of his look.

It really does happen too quickly to know who did it. All you remember is taking his hand to pull yourself up. The next. Both his hands are around your waist, nearly encompassing them with how big they are, and the way they slide against your glistening skin rouses you in places you didn’t even know existed.

There’s not even time to say anything when he locks his lips with yours, pushing you harshly against the wall with a thud that makes you gasp into his hot mouth. It’s messy, chaotic, a clashing of desperate lips and when he brushes your lower lip with his tongue it’s embarrassing how good it feels. He pushes you against the wall so harshly by your waist that you think he’s trying to embed you into it, hands clasped tightly around you in frustration, his fingertips creating marks where they are fixed.

Amongst all this, he presses his firm, lithe body against yours and you let out the quietest of moans with the realisation that he is desperately hard beneath the sweatpants he’s wearing, pressing it into your thigh.

“Fuck…” he breathes as his hand snakes up your front to take hold of your jaw, kissing with such need that it almost feels like too much.

All this time your hands have had no idea what to do, but one slides to the nape of his neck, gripping harshly and completely destroying the style his hair had been in. The other runs over the slick skin of his forearm, tracing the veins there, and how they seem to thrum with every beat of his heart, faster with the desire that courses through them.

“Fucking perfect…”

Words fail you at this point, his fingers digging into the sides of your face make you realise he’s keeping you right where he wants you, attacking your mouth with his in a way that’s not really happened to you before. And that little breathy moan escapes once again when his teeth nip at your lip as he pulls away, immediately dipping to your neck to kiss and suck the delicate skin there, his hips pushing against yours with hunger.

You wonder what his hands would feel like wrapped around your neck, squeezing gently, or maybe not so gently. If his hands would just go that bit lower…if your hands just dipped beneath the hem of his shirt…down the sweatpants…

Buzz buzz.

Snapped out of this hot, heavy trance, Aemond steps back a little and you duck underneath his arm, not daring to look back at him at the fear you might stay and fuck up this entirely professional relationship. You desperately look at your phone, a missed call from Baela.

But that’s all the excuse you need, you hurriedly pack up your stuff, “S-sorry…I..” you start but with no vocabulary to actually finish. Your core is still spurring with delight with what you’ve just done, taking all the power from your brain.

Looking back briefly, he looks a bit dishevelled but still ridiculously too good, flushed in the face and his chest gently heaving, and with that ghost of a smile on his face. Not smug this time, to your delight.

“Um, sorry I have to go…thanks, Aemond” you excuse promptly. Even the very swift walk back to the car is a blur. It’s only when you’re in the driver’s seat, intensely gripping the steering wheel that it all slots into place.

Your fingers go to your lips and all the places his hands had touched you. They’re on fire. Begging for more. And you feel your breath in your lungs stutter at the memory of it. Aemond stands at his window, watching with acute amusement that you’re still sat there, absolutely dumbstruck by what’s happened.

Baela pings you in the wake of her missed call.

taglist (sorry if I missed anyone, I’m crap, bold means I couldn’t tag)

@mrsgrwy @lovelykhaleesiii@urmomsgirlfriend1@iiamthehybrid @namelesslosers @chainsawsangel @warmfieldofgrass @mynameisbaby9 @afro-hispwriter @tempo-rary-fix @toodlesxcuddles @definitelynotsatans @svtansdaddyx @tssf-imagines @darkenchantress @vrtualfairy @fan-goddess @skikikikiikhhjuuh @helaenaluvr @sarahkimtae @blackxisxmyxcolour @castellomargot @girlwith-thepearlearring @julczimozart @amazingdisneyfansblog @slutforaemond@thedamewithabook@Iiamthehybrid@sahvlren@Whoknows333@cosmoeticss

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 11 months

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I don’t want to hear thoughts... Unless they’re yours

Chapter 6: Scarry truth 18+ (Please be aware that there is explicit content here) Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Word count: 5k Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, oral, strap on use, Mommy!Kink, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader , Wanda being with another character, angst, Summary: Wanda wanted to live the normal life she was never afforded, but something was always missing. Something she denied herself and buried deep inside. But watching you move next door, she quickly realizes that this may not be possible for much longer. Especially with all the interesting things she found in your thoughts. Chapter summary: When Wanda invited you over for coffee after work, she never expected that a slight deviation from her plans would send her spiraling, or push her to fall back into old habits. But would it give her what she really wants? Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6, Part 7; Part 8; Part 9; Part 10 Series materlist Masterlist of all my works

On Monday morning Wanda woke up feeling truly rested. It was still early, but that didn’t bother her. She had spent the previous day immersed in your daydreams, indulging herself thoroughly and loving every second of it. It was heavenly to let go, to have someone sharing in her desires. Someone who understood. It felt freeing to know she wasn’t alone. You were her perfect counterpart and she found it easier to see herself as the dominant in your fantasies, getting to do to you all the things you so clearly enjoyed. With that thought, she started getting ready for the day ahead. She pulled out her headphones, which, left unused for quite some time, she had to find first and she started a playlist on her phone. She had spent enough time with you, or rather your thoughts, to know quite a lot of your favorite songs and she added them, letting the first one play while she made breakfast. Truly, she was refreshed. Energy surged and she had a new inspiration for a painting of hers, already imagining herself freeing a few hours in her afternoon, so she could start. Who know her little neighbor could be such a miracle worker. With such thoughts and the music playing loudly, Wanda dancing to the beat while she made waffles, she didn’t even hear her sons come down the stairs. She realized they were already up when her body stiffened, attacked by their little hands, which wrapped themselves around her in their hugs and she had to stifle and surprised scream, making the boys laugh. “Good morning, mom” They smiled mischievously at her, watching her pull out the headphones and putting her phone away. “Good morning.” She smiled back, ruffling their hair happily. “Anyone hungry?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Her sons were always hungry. “Yes!” They responded in unison, watching her and trying to figure out what she was making. “Good. Go get napkins and some cutlery for the table. I’m almost done.” She explained, purposefully avoiding the answer to their unspoken question. “Are those waffles?” Tommy finally asked, taking out napkins, while his brother picked out forks. “You’ll just have to wait and find out.” She responded coyly, her mood lifting even more. Wanda watched her children eat, putting away the dishes once they were done, planning out her day, when she felt you stir. She gave you the space to get ready for the day and she left the house, pretending to do something in the garden as she waited for you to come out. What she didn’t plan on, however, was how she’d see you. You were wearing a white vest, but her eyes immediately narrowed at the fact that there was no shirt underneath it, your arms exposed and the tops of your breasts peeking out. There was no blazer in sight either and she immediately realized that that’s the way you’d spend your day. The white pants you had chosen clung to your every curve, which, now that she’d seen, she could imagine even more vividly and she cursed internally. You wore high heels, the way you often did for work, your legs looking even longer and more alluring. “Hi, neighbor!” Wanda greeted, waving at you, taking this time to breathe in and calm her nerves. Damn, you really did need your mommy to tell you not to wear such things. Did you not know what you looked like? What it could do to people? “Oh, hi, Wanda.” You waved back, approaching her fence. “How are you this morning.” “I’m great!” She admitted honestly, a genuine smile gracing her features. “I just woke up feeling so positive and energized. Which reminds me… ” She paused slightly. “The kids just love waffles and I made way too much. Let me go grab you some to take with you for work!” She said, already turning towards her house. Your protests fell on deaf ears and Wanda walked into her home, having the food already packed and she waited a little bit, not to seem like she had planned this, just so she would give them to you and she walked outside with a container, handing it to you. “You really don’t have to. Please.” You tried to argue, but it was useless against her. “I insist.” She said simply, her green eyes fixing you with an unrecognizable look while you contemplated. “Aren’t we friends?” She added, smiling when she saw you hesitate and watched all your defenses crumble at that. “Thank you!” You said with a small smile, your hand reaching out to take the food she had made. “My pleasure.” She said happily, now that you had accepted. “So how are you? How was Sunday with no strangers in your house?” She asked, referring to herself and the little pool party you had. “Honestly? Boring. I quite liked your company.” You admitted with more honesty than Wanda expected, your eyes sparkling at the words and the woman stood taken aback by it. It was true that she had asked for the compliment, or at least prompted it, but it still struck a strange cord of longing in her. “You know, if you keep saying things like that, you won’t be able to get rid of me.” Wanda tried to joke, but her voice didn’t quite have that cheerful tone, betraying a little of her real feelings. “Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not trying to.” You smiled warmly, realizing that you actually did want to spend more time with the woman. You liked your conversations with her, enjoyed getting to know her a little. “Oh, Y/N, stop sweet talking me, before I make you late for work.” She waved her hands, smiling. “Swing by when you finish, we’ll have a cup of coffee. Mine’s not as good as yours, mind you, but it’ll do.” She suggested, her eyes fixed on you, reading every small expression. “I might be late, I probably have a mountain of things waiting for me.” You explained. “But if I make it before dinner I’ll be happy to come over and share some of my own recipes.” “Well, then I won’t keep you.” Wanda said, a huge smile spreading across her face. “Have a good day, Y/N.” “I hope you have a great day too, Wanda.” You returned her smile, the woman’s energy entirely infectious. “Thank you again for the waffles!” You said a bit louder as you walked away and watched the woman dismiss you with a wave of her hand, as if it was nothing. Happy with her little interaction with you, Wanda thought that her day was going even better than expected and that pushed her into a wave of hyperactivity. She let the boys play, though her eyes were often following them, while she did some cleaning and organizing, prepared lunch and put the boys to bed for a couple of hours while she started on her painting. She didn’t miss the chance to take her headphones and listen to more of your music, feeling surrounded by you as she did it, her brushstrokes confident, because she already had the image of what she wanted in her head. When her sons woke up, she took them to the park. The day was warm and sunny and she didn’t want to keep them in that house all the time. She took a ball and a couple more of their favorite toys and she sat on a bench, watching them play, the smiles never leaving their faces. They reminded her so much of her and her brother when they were young. They were so close. Even when they disagreed, they were so connected, that other children sometimes found it hard to approach them. They didn’t need anyone else to have a good time and they knew each-other so well. Wanda sometimes watched in awe, when Billy and Tommy played football for example. They didn’t need more than a glance at each-other to know what the other would do and they made such a formidable team that other kids sometimes felt left out, but quite honestly, she loved that about them. When they were properly exhausted from all their activities, Wanda took them for ice cream and her heart filled with joy at their loud cheers. Of course, they wanted way more than they could eat, the way children often did when it came to treats and she knew she’ll most likely have to finish whatever they couldn’t and she wasn’t wrong, but she couldn’t care less. When she got home, she realized that you’d probably be back soon enough and despite having things to fill her time, she couldn’t stop looking at the clock, the minutes ticking by slowly and your absence filling her with an unsettling feeling she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Suddenly, she realized that she had been waiting for this all day, she had somehow hyped herself for it and you were late. Wanda looked at her phone, her eyes narrowing. She knew she had no new messages, but the confirmation annoyed her and she found herself passing by the windows that looked over to your house more often. Your car wasn’t there, so she knew you weren’t back yet, but that only frustrated her more. You worked too much. You were meant to be with her right now, sipping her coffee and telling her about yourself, not in some office, exhausting yourself. After another hour passed, Wanda’s mood had gotten worse. She hadn’t realized how much this meant to her, until she was left standing in the middle of her house with no messages from you and a sickening feeling of expectancy. That’s when she realized that she had put too much hope into your interactions. She had ignored all her worries, concerns, all her rules when she came to this town. She was here to have a normal life, to be with her sons, to get away from the things that had pushed her life into chaos, not chase after them. Of course, you had nothing to do with that. But you tempted her. Your presence, your alluring personality most of all, made her embrace so much of her magic again, made her fall back into a pattern of obsession and distrust. She knew it wasn’t healthy. She knew that what she did was wrong, that she had crossed so many lines, but your interactions, even if a little bit set up, were real. What she said, what she felt, what she wanted was quite real. And she knew you were a genuine person too. Perhaps that’s what frustrated her most. She discovered that you were wonderful and that a casual interest had quickly grown into a full blown chase for her. Wanda Maximoff actually liked you. God, she was fucked. She wasn’t meant to have any romantic feelings. The people she loved never had a good fate. They got hurt… Or worse. The realization, more than anything, scared Wanda, her initial frustration over your absence, quickly turning into anxiety. She got too involved, too invested in this, she dove in head first into feelings she didn’t know how to handle. Pacing around the house, trying not to seem as nervous as she felt, she thought of all the implications of continuing on the course she had set. She had no doubt that she could make you hers. You were perfect for her, she could easily show you that… But what then? What if the people she hurt in her past came looking for her? What if they hunted her down and found the life she had built, found you. You were such an easy mark. Would she be able to protect you? God, how could she even tell you who she really was? What she’s done, how many lives she has ruined, how many people she had wronged. Would you look at her the same way if you knew the extent of her monstrosity? Would you fear her then? Could she just lie to you? Was it a lie, if she simply ignored the question of her past and showed you who she was now? So many thoughts swirled in her head and she grew more restless by the second. What was she meant to do? Chase after you? She wanted to. But she was afraid. So many people feared rejection in life, feared that something wouldn’t work out, feared loneliness… Wanda was different. Life had shown her that rejection was easy to move past. She would rather hear you say that she’s unwanted, see you in the arms of another and seethe with jealousy, than watch the love in your eyes fade away at the knowledge of who she really is. Gaining your love, opening up her heart to you and then losing you? How could she live with that? Watching the life drain from you, holding your broken body on the floor and knowing that she’ll never see you smile? God, that could break her. Yes, rejection was simpler. A clear cut that would heal. Loss was a jagged wound that never quite healed. It ached every waking moment of every day and she never wanted to face that again. Yes, the life she had chosen was simpler… The sound of her phone pulled her from her thoughts and she willed herself to pick it up slowly, to calm the way her heart hammered, but her hands shook as soon as she saw your name on her screen. Hi, Wanda! I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to make it today. My calendar is full of meetings until 20:00. Another time? Wanda read and re-read the message a few times, her fingers hovering over the screen. She had a million responses in her head, reassuring you that it was all right, telling you that she understood, making plans with you for another day, but they all died down in the end. It was cruel to do this to herself and unfair to do it to you. With a long, deep breath, Wanda typed back a response, throwing her phone on the couch next to her. Of course. Just that. And it felt so empty that she hurried to get up, hugging her boys tightly and kissing the tops of their heads as she made her way to the fridge and the bottle of white wine she knew she’d find there. * * * The wine, Wanda thought as she sat down in a random café with a stranger, definitely did not help. In fact, she blamed all her bad choices on that bottle, which, to her shame, she had finished all by herself. That’s how she found herself scrolling through that dating app and looking at the different messages women had sent her, picking one that she liked and responding, eventually arranging herself this date that she was now almost regretting. But she was getting ahead of herself. After she’d put the boys to bed, she couldn’t stop thinking about you. She found herself peeking through her windows and watching your movements. You came home at about 21:30 and you crashed on the couch. She could feel all the pent-up stress in you and she had to remind herself that she should stay away from your thoughts. If she was to keep herself away from you, she had to start by pulling away from the thing that had gotten her so involved in the first place. Something easier said than done. She watched you go through your routine, making yourself a sandwich instead of a normal meal, because it was faster and you were almost starved, nervously tapping her foot as she continued to contemplate everything. She couldn’t escape it. The way her brain kept returning to that same thing, kept turning over all the possibilities, scrambling to find a way to both get what she wanted and protect her heart from pain. And it was impossible. But what really sent her into a spiral came a little later that night. Wanda had tried to watch TV, but even her favorite sitcoms weren’t enough to distract her. She wasn’t even watching. That is until she looked through her window again and saw that the first floor of your house was now dark, and she followed the light up, seeing you through your bedroom window. You were undressing yourself rather carelessly, but Wanda couldn’t tear her eyes away from you. You had already pulled down your pants and were now undoing the buttons of your vest, letting it slide off your shoulders, leaving you in a white bra and panties and causing Wanda’s mouth to run dry. Why did she have to see that? She knew it was wrong of her to keep watching, but she stood frozen in place, her eyes tracing your body, even if she’d seen you naked in your fantasies quite a few times now. But this was different. This was real. Your hands were undoing your bra next and she followed every movement, drinking you in as the garment fell to the floor. God, you were beautiful. Just as beautiful as she remembered and her whole being filled with longing. You could be hers, she could be undressing you right now, kissing you, worshipping you… Fuck, she had to do something, before this obsession consumed her. Better yet, before she was labeled the neighborhood creep for spying on naked girls. And didn’t people often say that the best way to get over someone is to find someone else? Well, that was how her brilliant plan had led her here. On this date with the first random woman, who’s picture she liked. In the morning Wanda arranged a babysitter for the boys. A neighbor she knew and trusted on the rare occasions when she had to leave the house without her sons. She was meant to come in the afternoon and stay with them for a few hours. Why had she done this? Well… She thought it would help her get you out of her mind, so she settled in the booth, across from the woman she had texted with and started up a light conversation. Iris was a couple of years younger than Wanda, a brunette, and had a charming smile, something the redhead didn’t miss the opportunity to point out, making her blush. But even though the date was going well enough, Wanda couldn’t help but think of you. She kept comparing her to you, kept looking at her eyes and searching for yours, kept thinking of what you would say, even though she was here so she could forget you. The knowledge somehow frustrated her. It’s not like she loved you. But she craved that connection with you and in defiance of her own feelings, or perhaps in searching for ways to suppress them, it almost took no effort on her part at all, to have Iris trapped between her own front door and Wanda’s body. “Invite me inside.” Wanda whispered in her ear, more a demand than a request. “What makes you think I want to?” The brunette asked in defiance, even though both her hands were wrapped around the sorceress. “The way you look at me right now.” And it wasn’t the first such look Wanda had gotten during their date. This woman had been eye-fucking her for the past hour. “And you think I’m that easy?” “That’s such a terrible term.” Wanda disagreed. “I know I can make you feel good.” She stated simply. “And I think you want me to.” To accentuate her words, she let her hips grind against the other woman, so she could feel the toy in her pants, giving her a moment to really entice her, before pulling away and hearing the woman gasp softly. “Invite me inside?” She asked this time, a smile gracing her lips, because she knew there is no way her date would refuse her. “Please, come inside.” The woman smiled back after a few more seconds of hesitation, pulling her in for a brief kiss, before she turned around to unlock her door. “Oh, I will.” Wanda practically purred, unable to resist a smirk at the double meaning and earning herself an almost audible eyeroll. Once inside, the two women quickly moved passed the pleasantries, barely pausing while the brunette offered Wanda a drink and watched her gulp down a glass of whisky in one go and soon Wanda was being dragged through a room and lead into a messy bedroom. “Sorry about the clutter.” Iris apologized, a little embarrassed, since she obviously did not expect company. “I don’t care about that.” Wanda responded, pulling her in for a kiss and tossing her onto the messy bed. And she really didn’t. Normally she’d be far more critical of the unkept room, but as it was, she was desperate for a distraction. Oh, how wrong she was to think this would help. Wanda let her hands roam Iris’s body, tearing her clothes off of her hastily and refusing to think of the way she looked nothing like you, felt nothing like you. She pushed away every thought of you, refused to see your face, when she closed her eyes, fought every urge to conjure the sound of your voice and every second passed excruciatingly slow. Every touch felt forced, felt wrong, because it was never meant for this stranger. In the end, Wanda gave up. The rest of their encounter becoming a blur. Between drinking and her heart protesting the intimacy she shared with another, Wanda had no choice, continuously drifting to images of you, of your fantasies coming to life, behind Wanda’s closed lids. She could only hope that she did as well as she imagined. When it was all over, somehow, opening her eyes to the visage of another woman startled Wanda. Iris certainly looked happy with the orgasm she received, her body twitching with aftershocks and a satisfied grin never leaving her face, but Wanda had thought of you the entire time and being met with someone else’s face came as a shock, before she had to remind herself why she had done this. It seemed somehow empty now, after the fact, but before she could process it fully, she was pulled back into reality by Iris’s voice. The brunette flipped Wanda on her back and she dutifully removed all her clothes and took off the strap on and the dildo that was attached to it, putting them to the side and staring hungrily into Wanda’s wet pussy. Iris didn’t ask for permission, nor did she hesitate, before she leaned down, her tongue swiping over Wanda’s clit softly and getting a taste of her. The redhead sorceress stood there frozen for a moment, her eyes following the woman above her cautiously, and her body rigid. That was not what she imagined in the slightest, not what she thought it would feel like at all. With all the women she’d been with, all the times she imagined herself taking control, she never felt so empty or so unfulfilled by the encounter. Even when she held back, when she suppressed all her urges, she still felt so much more fulfilled, than she did in this moment. “Is everything all right?” Iris somehow startled her and pulled her from her thoughts and Wanda realized that she hadn’t moved this entire time. “Yes.” Wanda barely whispered, faking a smile and closing her eyes in an attempt to reign in her disappointment. When she looked at Iris, she felt nothing and when she closed her eyes, trying to let her body feel good, enjoy the way she was being treated, she just couldn’t. Something was missing and she struggled to find it, her breaths growing shallow. “Do you need me to do something different, baby?” Iris pulled away again after a few minutes, the disappointment in her eyes obvious. “You can tell me what you need.” Wanda had been so eager to be with her, so happy to fuck her into a mind-blowing orgasm, yet the woman was hardly enjoying herself and Iris feared she wasn’t doing a good job, feared she’ll never see her again. “No, no, don’t stop.” Wanda said, a little desperate, feeling the other woman resume her ministrations. She felt gentle kitten licks on her pussy, her body responding to the stimulation even when her brain resisted and Wanda felt herself slip. Despite her own protests, despite knowing that she shouldn’t, she allowed herself to see you between her legs, to imagine what you’d do when you tried to please her and her heart leaped to see your face. She just knew you’d love being on your knees for her, getting desperately turned on to look at her wet folds and waiting for her permission to finally taste her. She’d be so proud to see your cute face covered in her juices while she praised you for “making Mommy cum so good”. You’d be such an adorable little thing, offering her your fingers and then licking them clean, when she was done cumming all over them. God, better yet, tying you up to the bed and putting a vibrator against your clit and Wanda playing with the remote control while she rode your tongue. She could edge you like that, while she came all over your face, orgasm after orgasm washing over her, until she was too overwhelmed and overstimulated to continue. When she’s done, she’d take it away and fuck you senseless with her strap, erasing any thought, that someone else would ever make you feel as good as she did. God, the possibilities… With each new idea, each new image of you at her mercy, Wanda climbed higher. Her hands ran through Iris’s hair, gripping it and guiding the woman, her hips canting up in impatience as she chased her orgasm. She felt it building, deep in the pit of her stomach and she squeezed her eyes tightly, as if she feared to open her eyes, feared to face her reality and your absence. “Oh my God, just like that, baby!” She encouraged, picturing your cute face and your pretty eyes looking up at her for validation, loving to hear her praise. “Don’t stop, Y/N! Make me cum!” She moaned, her fingers tightening around the strands of the brunette’s hair, pulling her even closer to her center, just as she started to fall over the edge. Her orgasm washed over her quickly, a little forced, but powerful and she rode out the waves of pleasure with the thought of you, her hips still canting up and helping her ride it out in bliss, only releasing the woman, when she was completely spent and her body slumped against the mattress. Wanda felt her date climb up her body, lying next to her on the bed, but being sensible enough not to touch her and she reminded herself that she’ll see Iris’s face once she opens her eyes and not yours, yet when their eyes met, she still had to cover her disappointment. “So, who’s Y/N?” Iris broke the silence and watched Wanda’s eyes grow large in shock. “You said her name earlier.” The brunette clarified, but stayed calm. “When did I…’’ Wanda stopped, as she remembered it. She wasn’t meant to say your name. She wasn’t meant to think of you. Yet, she knew, she wouldn’t be able to cum, if she didn’t. “Please tell me she’s not your girlfriend.” Iris kept her eyes on Wanda. “No… Not my girlfriend…” Wanda murmured, her thoughts so distant, she hardly registered the other woman’s presence. God, what had she done? This was a mistake. Looking around at the strange, unkept room and the naked woman next to her, Wanda started to panic. She didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to feel this woman’s fingers run up and down her forearm… Her nakedness made her feel vulnerable and exposed, as if caught doing something wrong. She felt dirty suddenly, as if the other woman’s touch had left a visible trace on her skin. She looked around nervously, internal panic starting to set in and urging her to leave, feeling trapped under the other woman’s sheets, under her gaze that continued to study her, as if she wanted to find what’s wrong with her and fix her. God, when did she become a charity case? Suddenly, Wanda rose from her spot on the bed, that seemed too small, reeking of the woman, who wasn’t you. She started to dress herself hurriedly, gathering her things, while Iris followed her movement in a melancholy way. She seemed saddened somehow, yet unsurprised. She refused to ask why she was leaving in such a rush, although Wanda could feel she hoped for an explanation, hoped to hear Wanda say that she’ll call her, that they’ll see each-other again, that this wasn’t a fleeting, meaningless date. Wanda’s heart ached, her thoughts spinning out of control. She felt so disheartened by her own future, and equally saddened for Iris, for what she was doing to her, what she knew was a cruel way to end things. She had accepted her in her home, in her bed, in her own body, let Wanda satiate her need… The woman didn’t deserve to be left like this. When did Wanda become so callused? Pausing, Wanda did what she knew was the right thing to do. The kind thing to do. She swallowed her own feelings, for a moment forgetting everything that was waying her down, that tormented her and kept her from claiming the happiness she craved and she took Iris’s hands in her own. She let the woman walk her out, kissing her lips softly at the door and telling her what a lovely time she had. It was painful to drive away, her eyes lingering on the woman at the door, until she could no longer see her, doing everything she could to keep herself together, feeling her tears spill from her eyes and the road becoming a blur. God, this was a mistake. Hurting that woman was a mistake. Letting you get so close to her, getting so attached to you was a mistake. She should have stayed away, should have left you alone, when she understood how addictive you were. She should have… But it was way too late now.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #lesbian #Scarlet Witch #Mommy!Wanda #mommy kink #angst

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mynameismckenziemae · 5 months

Text

She’s a Fire-Chapter VIII

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OFC/Reader (no use of y/n)

Running me wild

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Warnings: smut, sex toys, almost getting caught, p in v, oral (m receiving), etc.

“Goddamnit” Bradley mutters good-naturedly as he plugs in the outdoor lights and nothing happens, “Don’t even say it, I know.”

5 minutes earlier you had joined him outside to see how he was doing and asked if he tried plugging the lights in before putting them up. His silence spoke volumes. “I knew I was forgetting something. It should be fine though, they worked last year.”

You burst out laughing as he stalks over to you, grabbing you around the waist and tickling you. “You laughing at me Row?”

“I would never!” You gasp.

“I’m an idiot,” he sighs.

“No, you’re not. I’ve done it too. That’s why I thought to ask you. I’ll help you find the one that’s burnt out.”

Bradley brings out a second ladder from the garage and you two get to work, luckily finding it after only a few minutes.

“Alright, let’s try this again. Ready?” He says, plugging them in and coming to stand next to you. “3, 2, 1, open”.

You nod and gasp when you do. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, looking at you.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

“I’ll get a real tree someday, but I’m having a hard time parting with this one. It’s probably a fire hazard and full of lead but it’s gone up every year since I was born.”

Oh, Bradley. “I like its vintage vibe.”

Your heart melts when he pulls out the old ornaments that he made for his mom when he was little. “Look at you! How old were you?” You coo at his toothless school picture in a painted popsicle stick frame.

“That was first grade I think? So around 7?”

“So cute.”

You can’t help but wonder what your kids would look like with Bradley. Would they have your red hair? His hazel eyes?

Bradley boosts you to place the star on the top of the tree. You watch Elf under the lights, snuggling while eating cookie dough.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A few hours later, Bradley whistles lowly when he sees you walk down the stairs in your plaid skirt, tucked-in sweater, and over-the-knee high-heel boots. “Wow, you look amazing”.

“Thank you, you do too.” You look him over in fitted black pants and a gray sweater. “Before we go, I just need to do one more thing.”

You pull him in by his belt loop and kiss him deeply, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his cock out, already getting hard.

“What are-wait, now?” He stutters, “Whoa, what is that?”

You slide the cock ring down you had in your pocket to the base of him. “It’s a remote-controlled vibrating cock ring.”

“Fuck, really? You’re gonna make me wear this in front of our friends?” He sighs, but his cock twitches in your hand.

“Yep. I have the remote and I’m going to use it whenever I want.” You say as you tuck him back into his pants. “Color?”

“Green.”

You smile. You know he likes the humiliation and embarrassment but he won’t admit it.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Bradley turns on Christmas music and drives you through a neighborhood that is notorious for their holiday lights before heading to Jake and Natasha’s for the Dagger party.

You click the button on the low setting as you pull on their street. “Holy shit” he groans, hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“Good or bad?”

“Fuck, it’s good. But I’m hard again baby, it had just gone away.” He whines as he shifts into park.

“Oh look, they’re waiting for us by the door, we better go in,” you smirk, but turn it off.

He sighs in relief and gets out, tucking himself into his waistband before coming around to open your door.

You take the hand he offered and press a kiss to his cheek. “Did I tell you I’m not wearing underwear?” You murmur before pulling away.

He mutters a curse and looks to the sky before grabbing the gifts and following you inside.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Natasha gives you a tour of their beautiful home as you and Bradley are the first ones there and it’s your first time.

“And here’s our bedroom…Oh my God. JAKE! I told him to put these away”. Nat scrambles to hide the sex toys on the nightstand, shoving them in the drawer.

You burst out laughing, “I’m sorry. I know you’re mortified, but it’s not a big deal, we use them too.” You say, wiping a tear that leaked out.

Her face is beet red, but she laughs too. “I think most people do, I’m just glad it was you and not one of the guys. I literally asked him an hour ago to put them away and he said he would.”

“Sounds about right. I love what you’ve done with the house though.” You change the subject, trying to ease some of her embarrassment.

You meet the guys back in the kitchen.

“Jake, do you remember what I asked you to put away an hour ago? Well, you forgot. Rowan got an eyeful of our collection.” Nat says, smacking his arm.

He pales. “I’m so sorry. The timer for the oven went off and I must’ve forgotten.”

“Collection?” Bradley asks, not catching on.

“Adult toy collection” Nat answers.

“Oh, no big deal. I’m sure it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, she’s got a pretty big collection of her own.”

Your eyes widen, and Jake and Natasha burst out laughing.

Bradley looks at you with wide eyes as he realizes what he just said. “I’m so sorry. You probably didn’t want anyone to know that.”

You laugh too. “It’s okay, really.” You say, squeezing his hand to let him know you’re not mad. “Hey, I was single for a long time. A girl's gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Nat says handing you a beer and tapping hers to it. She gives Jake a look and you can see he’ll be paying for it later, one way or another.

Javy, Rueben, and Mickey arrive next, followed closely by Bob, Sunny, and Steve.

“Are you sure you don’t mind having Steve here? He sheds.” Bob asks before letting him in.

“We asked you to bring him! Of course, we don’t mind. No one ever died from a little dog hair.” Jake says as he kneels to unhook his leash and say hello.

You click the remote in your pocket with the commotion of people arriving, and Bradley chokes on his beer.

“You alright?” Sunny asks, slapping him on the back.

“Yeah, just went down the wrong tube” he sputters, walking around to hug you from behind. You can feel the hard press of his erection on your back, along with the vibrations. You turn it up to the medium setting and he inhales sharply and tenses, fighting the urge to rut against you. He relaxes when you turn it off a few seconds later.

“You’re evil.” He whispers against your hair.

“Oh, I’m just getting started.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You tease him throughout dinner, turning it on and off, low and medium speed. Your hand reaches over to palm him through his jeans. His breath hitches, gasps, and sighs are driving you crazy. He’s so desperate, he doesn’t even try to stop you, his legs open like a little slut every time he felt your touch. You tell him that too and he flushed even deeper.

Thankfully no one noticed, as Steve was the center of attention at the head of the table where Jake and Natasha set a chair specifically for him.

You leave the remote alone as you help clear the table and clean up.

The gift exchange is next, everyone has picked names out of a hat instead of trying to buy everyone something.

You sit in the recliner with your legs curled underneath you Bradley sits on the floor in front of you. You smirk to yourself as he gingerly sits, his ass still a bit sore from the night before.

“Okay, we all open on 3. 1…2…3!” Natasha says.

Everyone opens their presents at the same time. You were delighted to be gifted the coziest Sherpa bathrobe from Mickey.

All attention was again on Steve as he tried to open his gift from Jake and Nat when you clicked the remote to the highest setting. Bradley groans, curling in on himself. Everyone stops to look at him.

“Sorry. Just got a cramp” he lies, rubbing the back of his leg for emphasis.

“Those are the worst, Jake’s got a massage gun in the garage, by the bench press. I can get it-“ Nat says, but is interrupted by you.

“No, that’s okay. You should watch Steve. He can find it, I’ll help him.”

“You sure?” She asks, already smiling at Steve tear through the paper.

“Yeah, no problem.” You say, turning it lower before helping Bradley to his feet.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You’re on him as soon as you’re through the garage.

“Please Row, pleasepleaseplease touch me,” he whines into your mouth.

“I will, you gotta be quiet though, okay?” He nods and you drop to your knees, pulling him out, and sucking him straight down your throat.

Your free hand goes to fondle his sack, and the other click the ring on the highest setting before dropping the remote and joining your other hand between his legs, going further back to press on his perineum.

His head falls back, hands grip your hair as he groans quietly, warm salty cum filling your mouth. You moan around him at the taste before swallowing it.

You quickly turn off the vibrations and slip it off him, kissing his spent cock and tucking him back in his pants.

Bradley pulls you to your feet to kiss you, loving the taste of himself on your lips.

The garage door swings open and you startle apart. You both smile at her sheepishly, not bothering with an excuse.

“Looks like your leg is better.” She smirks, “We’re gonna start a fire and a movie if you guys are done making out like teenagers.”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Thankfully, everyone’s none the wiser when you come back, even Nat just thinks you two were kissing.

Bradley pulls you into his lap as he takes your place in the recliner. “Sorry, my ass is still a little too sore to be sitting on the wood floor for 2 hours,” he murmurs in your ear. You pull your new robe over your bare legs and Jake comes around with drinks.

“Alright. We’re watching ‘National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation’. Everybody drinks when: Clark falls or is hit by something, the advent calendar is opened, Clark's bonus or the pool is referenced, and Clark messes with the neighbors. Got it?”

Everyone laughs and agrees. Halfway through the movie, you’re feeling good, a little tipsy. Bradley’s switched to water after he finished his drink, tracing shapes on your bare inner thigh. It’s driving you crazy, you were already worked up from the garage.

You open your legs a little further, trying to get him where you want him, and he just smirks, fingers not straying, eyes on the movie. Such a brat.

Your arousal is coating halfway down your thighs and Bradley’s hard underneath you by the time the movie ends.

You were fully planning on mauling him in the car, but Bradley offers to give Mickey a ride since his place is closer to yours than Javy’s. His heavy hand stays on your thigh the entire time. As soon as Mick shuts the door, you turn your hips in the seat. Left foot on the console, right on his knee, giving him full access. He takes it and plunges two fingers in, rubbing over your clit with his thumb.

“You’re such a dirty girl, Rowan. Working me up in front of our friends, I almost came in the living room…you woulda loved that though, huh?”

You mewl and nod, clenching as your orgasm approaches. Bradley can tell too, he pushes you to the edge but then pulls his fingers out.

You whine in confusion and then gasp as he lightly slaps your clit with his wet fingers. “No. You’ll wait until we get home now.” You clench around nothing at his words, his dominant side coming out.

Thankfully, home is only a few minutes away. You’re on him as soon he gets in the door, and he stumbles to the living room, laying you on your stomach in front of the tree. He rucks your skirt up with one hand as he pulls himself out of his pants with the other. He lifts your hips and plunges in with a deep groan. You cry out, suddenly so full.

You lean forward onto your forearm and reach down with the other to rub your clit, but he grabs it, holding it against your lower back.

“No. You’re only cumming from my cock tonight.” You whine, resting your cheek against the soft tree skirt as you try with your other hand.

He slaps your ass harshly, a deep moan leaving you. “Did you not hear me?” He growls as he pulls the other hand behind you, holding both wrists in his left hand as he fucks into your harder. His right-hand goes between your legs to gather some of your wetness, teasing over your clit for only a moment before pulling away. He brings his soaked fingers to your puckered hole and rubs circles there.

“One of these days Rowan, you’re gonna find out exactly what I do to dirty girls.” He grits out.

“I don’t…think you have…it in you baby” you pant out, goading him.

He chuckles darkly, full of promise. “You’ll see,” and he pushes a finger in your ass.

“Oh fuckkkkkk,” you groan, your pussy spasms, clamping down on him as you orgasm.

He removes his finger and his cock as you come down, forcing you down to your stomach. You hear him jerking himself off. “Dirty girls don’t get my cum in their pussy,” he growls as he cums. You whine and clench around nothing as you feel his warm load coat your bare ass and skirt.

You make a mental note to turn up your teasing, needing to see what he does when you push him farther.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

A/N: I liked this chapter. I may have to propose my husband after our kid goes to bed for some fun under the tree. Fun fact, the picture is actually of my tree 🎄

Taglist/tagging people who may be interested:

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #natasha phoenix trace #rueben payback fitch #mickey fanboy garcia #javy coyote machado

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zgvlt · 2 years

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celebrating your birthday with the twst boys hcs part 3, ft. pomefiore and ignihyde x reader (separate)

read part 1 here read part 2 here read part 4 here

general tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, hcs for both prefect and non-prefect reader, platonic and romantic hcs*, food mentions, runs on the assumption that reader wants to celebrate their birthday, not beta read

*except for Ortho, where his is fully platonic

total wc: 4.7k+ words (600-1k+ words each character)

VIL SCHOENHEIT

If you’re at the very least his friend, or even just someone from his dorm, he will make sure to prepare accordingly for your birthday, for as long as he knows when it is. He has his ways to find out. Rook, for instance, or school records.

If you’re someone from Pomefiore you would know that although he is quite strict and, though his standards are high, it is evident he cares for his dorm in an almost motherlike fashion, so he makes sure every Pomefiore student gets a celebration in the lounge.

The type to have a neat record of everyone’s important details, birthday included, in a notebook both he and Rook can access. With that, he and the dorm have prepared for your special day even without you notifying him.

If you’re someone from Ramshackle, he either (1) makes the offer to have everything prepared for your celebration, or (2) shows up, makes some critiques here and there for the sake of improving next year’s celebration, and stays for as long as he’s able to… which, unfortunately for Vil, can range for as long as a few hours to half an hour tops.

However, if you’re someone particularly close to him, whether it be a close confidant or his significant other, he’ll find a way to switch around his schedule to put you first, especially if you give him some time in advance.

Otherwise, if you tell him about your birthday late and he’s already booked for the day… he can probably handle a time crunch if it’s school related, but if it’s work related you’re going to have him evaluating how considerate the people he’ll be working with are and how negatively it could affect him if he doesn’t show up.

If it’s really important he promises he’ll hang out/go on a date with you as soon as he can (likely the night of, right after your celebration). Else, he’s making up an excuse—no one better go posting pictures on MagiCam with him now! He’s supposed to be busy/sick, when in reality he’s simply celebrating for you.

Speaking of telling him late, the type to question you about it, and if he finds your reason silly (e.g., not being sure if he would want to come celebrate with you), he’s scolding you (but with fondness)

In terms of pre-party preparations, he has as much control as you’re willing to let him have. Hair and/or makeup? Definitely, and he might even be more delighted than you in that aspect. In makeup specifically he’s particularly considerate with what you want—though if you let him go all out with what suits you and the occasion best, just tell him.

Might even tell you to start preparing the week before, handing you different skin care products with consideration to your skin type. If he notices you’re actually using it, expect him to keep giving you more afterwards, maybe even getting you to try different ones he figures (note: carefully concludes) would be even better than the last.

Clothes themselves are pre-determined, but since the students have the freedom to choose the shoes he might make some suggestions as well… though unless you’re like him, does not recommend any heels that are higher than a few inches. You’ll likely be walking around a lot to be greeted by people—tells you to wear some nice but comfortable shoes, maybe even makes it his gift if you say you have none.

For the party itself, there’s the initial worry that Vil might be too particular about the food and décor living up to his standards, in particular if your and his standards/aesthetics don’t align, but rest assured he knows the importance of it being your day, so even if it’s not exactly to his taste he accepts it. What kind of friend/partner would he be if he forced his ideal celebration on you?

For the record, he’ll be more particular about organization, presentation, and neatness as opposed to whether you want salads or not in your birthday menu.

There’s a bit of pressure having the Vil Schoenheit celebrate with you, especially if you think your other guests are intimidated by his presence, but first and foremost, why should they worry? He’s here for you, not them, and they should act accordingly. For goodness sake, he’ll even close his eyes at any Pomefiore students being particularly rowdy or getting their clothes filthy if it’s related to your birthday.

Eventually, any tensions do subside for your sake.

In terms of gifts, in general (meaning, regardless of how close you are) the gift is likely to be health, beauty, relaxation, or fashion related. It all depends on what he thinks you might appreciate the most.

Makeup? He’s not only taking into consideration what colors best suit you, but even if you’re allergic to certain things or grossed out by certain textures and formulas.

If you’re the Ramshackle prefect, clothes might just be the number one option, particularly if you have no source of income. Gets you a few sets of comfy pajamas (Vil is concerned you’ve just been sleeping in your uniforms), or maybe some clothes for when you go out of the campus (sure the NRC uniforms are prestigious and of good quality, but it’s not advisable if you want to avoid too much attention)

Do you look particularly stressed lately? Do you want some scented candles? Tea? A yoga mat? Dark chocolate? Maybe he just pulls you aside and takes you on a day of rest and relaxation with him.

As someone he loves, romantically or otherwise, simply expect to be spoiled throughout the whole day… and once the day ends, just maybe he’ll even throw in a few words just so you really get it that this isn’t just something he does for just anyone. You’re special, and it would do you well to remember that.

Overall, expect to be pampered by Vil on your special day, but all the same remember not to take it for granted! It’s not just beauty that Vil finds valuable, but time, a time he spends to celebrate you and you alone. Remind him that his hard work and thoughts aren’t going to waste, and that you appreciate him as much as he does you.

EPEL FELMIER

If you’re not that close of friends, he’s a sweet boy who will greet you even if you tell him it’s your birthday the day of. A gift is no problem, not when he always has stocks of apples and apple related products in his dorm (unless you dislike apples, then… maybe a carving?)

If you’re good enough friends (to the point that Epel isn’t too conscious about his country boy tendencies and temper), Epel’s reaction does end up changing slightly depending on when you choose to tell him. Tell him in advance and he makes sure to remember it, probably jotting it down on a piece of paper and pinning it on the corkboard in his room.

Not exactly the type to overthink his gift that early on, apples are definitely the first instinct, but as time goes by he does start to doubt his choices.

Tell him the day of? Well, Epel does wish he knew sooner, but he’s down to clown regardless! And he’s grateful for the celebration invite, even if it’s a little last minute! You don’t mind if he just heads to the kitchen real quick to make you something as a gift, right?

A bigger change can be seen if you happen to be the person he considers his best friend or his significant other (or both). Telling him the day of does bring out a more insecure part of himself, particularly if you choosing to not tell him until the last minute has to do with, well, him.

It does get into his head a wee bit, but rest assured it’s not him being angry, not enough to flare up his temper. It’s a more internal problem; he just needs some time to remind himself that he can just ask you about it for clarification, and that he should focus his energy in making sure you’re having the best birthday.

Even if his attitude towards Vil has already changed (i.e., whether this would take place post Chapter 5/6), probably still likes the excuse of being able to skip out on some duties or form of practice in exchange of getting to spend time with you.

Especially if you’re the Ramshackle prefect. Considering even Vil likes you, Epel gets the easiest pass to just head over to your dorm to help you out. It might sound like an excuse to slack off with you (and maybe the rest of the first years), but he really does want to help!

Help includes both the planning and setting up phase and the phase wher he gets to have fun with you and the others during the party itself. Actually really honored that you want his help for the planning portion! That must mean you think he’s reliable enough… probably?

Let him have a go at the more physical tasks—moving chairs and tables, carrying dishes and plates, wiping windows, hanging up decorations. Aside from the pride he would feel at you thinking he’s capable enough to do all of those, he recognizes what good exercise those tasks would be, a test of strength.

Don’t expect him to fail, either! He’s had a lot of practice doing chores in Pomefiore, so he trusts his muscles… and while there’s unfortunately not much physical proof of it, he’s certain his arms can handle whatever you throw at him!

During the party itself, if he’s comfortable enough with the people around, he’s ready to wild out through even the dumbest birthday party games (especially if ADeuce are there as well. It’s easy to feel competitive with those two mucking around, and not to mention Sebek talking about how easy it should be to conquer measly human games)

Does want the prizes; he’ll try and win you some if you want any, too!

He has way too much fun at these parties, but considering there’s no one his age in his hometown it does make sense how new something like this is for him.

If you’re his partner, do expect a less PDA shy Epel. He is stuck by your side, especially when he’s a little more tired towards the end of the party—he has his arm slung either around your waist or your shoulders depending on the height difference, especially when other people try to talk to you. Epel is hardly intimidating, but that’s not really the point—he wants to show off, and even though it’s not his birthday, you figure you might as well let him.

For gifts, the standard is obviously something apple related. Is there something you want carved? He’s been pretty proud of his skills lately, so he could probably create whatever you asked!

Does get a little unsure about having his gifts purely consumable, so in the end he also ends up giving you an impromptu, still apple-related lesson… or lessons, depending on how much apples and energy the two of you have. Teaches you how to make apple jam, apple pie, apple crisps, soup (yes, soup), maybe even how to carve some basic shapes if you’re into that! Material gifts are great, but they ain’t got anything on the feelings from the gifts, and the experiences… or something like that, Epel thinks.

If you don’t like apples (and you’ve already gotten Epel to get over it), another option might be something he personally finds cool, like embroidered patches or the like… unless you’re into more cute than cool, in which case Epel finds himself buying it.

It’s for you, not for him, so even if it’s cute it doesn’t really bother him or anything. He just hopes the shopkeeper doesn’t go mistaking him as a girl or anything because of that purchase.

Overall, expect lots of apples and lots of fun. He’s honestly just really glad you find him reliable for things other than his appearance, so feel free to ask for more apples, or, uh, help.

ROOK HUNT

He knows, 99% chance he knows that he knows when your birthday is without you telling him directly. Tell someone off-handedly? Have it written in some school record or somewhere online? You’re redeeming birthday discounts in local stores? Grim yaps about it for one (1) tuna can? Unless you’re very secretive, he just knows.

(And, well, even if he doesn’t find out, in this case you do end up telling him, so you fill in the missing 1% probability anyway)

Definitely tries to celebrate with you all out even if you’re not the closest of friends. If you’re friends? You’re celebrating. Isn’t it obvious? Someone beautiful was brought to the world on a certain date all those years ago, thus the date should be celebrated year round.

(If you’re a close friend, his lover, or someone he’s just very into aesthetically, he probably thinks your birth and beauty should be celebrated most days, if not every single day, but your birthday will have to suffice)

If you’re from Pomefiore, you’re going to hear a knock on your door early in the morning—surprise! It’s him, Rook Hunt, already greeting you a Bon anniversaire~, serving you breakfast in bed with one hand (because the other hand has a camera. He’s going to have that all day to capture candid photos of the birthday celebrant for the sake of authenticity).

If you’re not from Pomefiore and he’s being stopped from strolling up to your bedroom, then he’s waiting at the respective dorm’s lounge. It’s still just as surprising to have the blond man surprise you—obviously you’re not going to expect him to be in your dorm so early in the morning!

Unless you’re his lover, then maybe you already knew to expect Rook Hunt, Le chasseur d'amour… then again, if you are his significant other, he’s probably less shy about breaking some rules and just busting down your door to sing you a Happy Birthday while you’re still in bed.

If your room is in Ramshackle, he might scale the walls and greet you from the window.

Greets you a happy birthday multiple times a day, especially if you’re someone he deems his muse or the objection of his desires and affections or something along those lines. Sings you a happy birthday in multiple languages. Shoots an arrow to the wall right next to you, attached a poem he wrote about you and the beauty he sees in you.

(Rather, one of many poems)

Rook will also not shut up about you and your birthday to everyone else. Rook is already incredibly talkative in general, but having the subject be the same person for the whole day is easily exhausting to his conversation partners. They think it’s sweet how much he adores you, the Seven know you deserve the praise, but holy shit can he stop. Some people want to take a nap!

Need help? Oui, he is at your service! Rook is plenty strong, so whatever you want him to do, he can probably do it. Haven’t invited everyone to your celebration? Lucky you, Rook is incredibly efficient not only in finding his targets, but sending messages.

Entertainment, you say? Ahhh, Rook is an expert when it comes to that, so feel free to rely on him for that! Of course, if you leave it all up to him then you might be one of the few terribly charmed and amused with him.

Is he not only reciting, but writing poetry on the spot for you? That’s a given, perhaps even the baseline for someone like Rook. If you don’t reign him in for a bit, he’s going to spiral into eventually monologuing, maybe even doing a one-man play for you.

Photography! Rook, without question, will be the main photographer for your event.

If you’re the Ramshackle prefect, he’s telling you to step down from your position for a bit—you’re the star of today's show, so you should be in the limelight, yes?

(When he shows you the photos afterwards, he’s continuously complimenting you about your beauty, about how radiant you truly looked, how the photos cannot compare. Maybe you agree, maybe you don’t, but you do see how he was able to capture how fun the celebration was for everyone involved—you want copies developed for yourself)

When it comes to presents, it’s more about what Rook cannot give you. That is to say, he has way too many options. Poems and praise, he’s already given it throughout the day, and will continue to give them for as long as he continues to meet up with you, but he also wants to give you something tangible.

Rook also enjoys originality, so he crosses out the things he’s already given other people. A portrait? He’s already given one to Leona, though if you wanted one you could always ask and he’d be very happy to make one. A hat? Done, given to Trey.

Whatever he chooses to give you, you’ll come to find how high quality it is, and how it was as if it was made with you in mind.

If it’s jewelry, maybe a ring, you’ll realize it’s your exact size. How did he do that? You don’t remember him stealing any jewelry from you, or measuring your finger with a ribbon or string.

The next part of a book series you’re in love with? Funny, here’s the unreleased fifth installment—maybe even the manuscript.

If he’s your significant other, expect to be showered with not just material gifts, but essentially any gift in the form of the other love languages.

Rook is aware that it’s not exactly easy being with him, considering his tendency to find everyone beautiful, but he’s not that fickle either—he’s incredibly serious about you, and he’s going to prove it by showing you his full attention on your birthday. You barely even hear a peep about anyone else.

Basically, celebrating with Rook is how everyone would expect it—it’s Rook in his element, loud, talkative, spouting this and that about beauty—but today, each and every word and look of awe is about and directed towards you.

IDIA SHROUD

If he’s invested enough in you (a.k.a. if he actually thinks of you as a friend, or if you’ve decided to choose him as your romance route + succeed in getting the good end), also probably knows about your birthday. Not to say he’s a stalker, because that’s not very nice, but… he’s good with tech, he has his ways. Most people aren’t very careful when it comes to social media privacy.

Probably would not actually try looking for it unless he gets antsy about not knowing it. Is the information hidden behind a paywall or something? Isn’t a trade deal with his own birth date enough?

(Shhh, don’t go asking the Ignihyde dorm students instead. Sure, it’s free, but that’s like using a walkthrough instead of obtaining it straight from the source!)

Genuinely the only way he might not be able to find info about you is if you’re from Ramshackle and no info about your spawn date can be found on your school records (or you lied, which… yeah, he gets it. People lie all the time with that stuff online)

(That does make Idia worry a bit, though. What day should he celebrate, then? Would your isekai into Twisted Wonderland date suffice? Actually, what kind of isekai are you actually? Is it transmigration, or did someone summon you? Or–)

If you’re friends but not super close, it sounds like he doesn’t care too much about your birthday, especially if you tell him in advance. Oh, no, he remembers the date, and gets Ortho to remind him about it, too.

Might not mind too much if you tell him the day of, but don’t actually expect him to drop by your party in person. The chances are low, maybe if you’re in Ignihyde or if your guest attendance drops drastically in Ramshackle. Otherwise, tough luck. The tablet will be there to vibe with you, though. Gets you a gift late, or just sends you something digitally, like a gift card to an eShop, or something for MagiCam.

If you’re close friends or his significant other, seriously, tell him early. Idia will overthink why you chose to not tell him about your birthday, and he is making up potential backstories for you in his head, and then once he feels guilty about assuming it devolves into him making himself out to be the problem.

Yeah, he’s not the biggest fan of birthdays, but it’s yours, so it’s important. Celebrating himself is… awkward, terrible, feels fake, but you’re you and you’re so… if you were an anime or game character, he would absolutely deck his room with your pins, plushies, metallic cards, and present a whole cake for you. That ws how much you deserved to be celebrated.

(Watch him now associate the birthday of a character with your birthday. Next Monday is no longer XYZ Character’s birthday, it is now your birthday which you coincidentally happen to share with XYZ. Yes, there is a difference, considering he’s going to greet you first before the character, too.)

He’s also making sure he orders your present early so that it’ll get shipped on time for your birthday.

In terms of planning… if it’s in Ignihyde, he can probably help a bit… but most of the work will inevitably go to Ortho, specifically if it’s moving things around, or having to leave the dorm to retrieve supplies or food. Don’t expect much of anything else otherwise, though if you’re close he might just order your supplies for you online. You can talk about paying him back, but Idia honestly doesn’t care about that.

Besides, he got them for cheap, lol. Ortho is efficient, and even without Ortho, Idia knows how to find the best deals.

In terms of actually attending the party… there is a chance if Idia considers you someone special to him. The tablet is the comfort zone, and depending on how much people attend you might find it hard to convince him. Still, it’s possible to get him to come in person—just don’t force him, and let him decide when and for how long.

He might come around for a bit when everyone’s too busy paying attention to the party games or something. You’ll find him raiding your dessert table. Just don’t make a fuss about him being there—better to keep the attention on you alone.

Oh, unless you decide to have some console games out for your party games, where he gets the chance to demolish everyone else in a tournament. In that case, he’ll go back to his room once he wins.

Still, the type who prefers to come see you the less people there are, or to celebrate with you alone. Do you want to hang out in his room? If you’re his partner, maybe go on a date with just the two of you? He’ll work up the courage for it!

In terms of gifts, his gifts don’t differ too much whether you’re his friend or partner. It’s more of how a close friend and partner likely would have more effort put into their gifts as opposed to a not full hearts friend.

There's a high probability it’s something fandom or tech related.

Fandom would be the easiest one for Idia—unless it’s a super niche one, in which case, bring it! Idia loves the challenge. Idols? Anime? Games? Comics? A viral series? Cosplay? Done, done, and done. You can tell just how much he likes you based on the rarity of the things he gets you.

Please prattle on and on about how much you like his gift and how rare it is and how wonderful he is for getting it for you. Idia wants to feel incredibly smug… though try to keep your compliments in that realm, or else he’s going to get embarrassed.

What if you’re a, gasp, normie? Idia might get (or make) you something techy to make your life more convenient. Living in dorms isn’t that easy, everyone wants something to make their living arrangements better!

That, or he could commission a digital artist he likes to draw you… or maybe, even the two of you? (Idia cries into his sleeve. You’re affecting him with your normie thinking! Isn’t it kind of corny to get BFF/Couple products? Is it the same for art?)

If you’re the Ramshackle Prefect he also gets you something for Grim, just because.

Overall, Idia might not be having the biggest blast of the century if he does decide to go to your party, but if you are, well, then Idia’s happy about it.

ORTHO SHROUD (PLATONIC)

Sweetest baby boy Ortho. Same as Idia, unless there really are no records of it online and you’re very secretive of it in person, he definitely knows when your birthday is. You’re his friend, so he probably got curious about your birthday :( He’s sorry if it’s sensitive information. But honestly, just tell him, he wants to celebrate with you! :)

Probably whines a little cutely about you not telling him in advance, before questioning you about why you told him late, but he’s easily one of the least affected by it. When it comes to gifts, he needs no time for preparation. His schedule is also incredibly flexible, so if you want him to attend your party, or even help set it up, Ortho is ready to go!

Is very happy when you choose to tell him early, though. As in, quite literally says, “I’m happy!”

Constantly searches up things in relation to party planning. Looks up guides and videos and the whole shebang. He just wants to ensure that you have the best party ever!

So the first thing (and likely last thing, too) on the agenda is to clean the whole place? Easy! You can join if you want, but due to his big brother, cleaning is super easy for him! Do you want something vacuumed?

Ortho has a whole notes app plan listed, he’s very efficient if you want to get things done without slacking off.

Supplies? If you describe to him your vision for your party, he’s going to find the exact items, where to buy them for cheap, estimate when they’ll arrive to NRC, and all other calculations and searches. He’s also doing your accounting for you, in case you’re a little particular about wanting the party to be on budget and cost-effective.

Yes. He will also be your delivery boy. Sure, you could just send everyone you want to invite a text, and Ortho could easily help assemble a mass text, but it’s so much more fun to deliver the invites in person! Whether it’s written down or verbal, expect everyone to get your message loud and clear!

During the party, Ortho is very much capable and in charge, thank you very much! Music? Duh, his big brother is a genius and Ortho is his masterpiece! Music is like child’s play! Ortho can even sing you a happy birthday if you want! In any language!

Pictures and video recordings? He’ll send it over to you later! He’ll even have it edited to the highlights if you want!

The type to check your vitals every hour to see if you’re really excited and having fun. You can opt out if you want, but do let him know that you’re enjoying your celebration! Ortho wants to see you with happy expressions only today!

Tries to convince Idia to attend your party, even though based on his predictions… Well, a chance is still a chance, isn’t it?

In terms of gifts, Ortho honestly doesn’t know :( Unless you’ve dropped a few hints here and there about gifts you wanted or things you’re interested in. Although Ortho does find himself a little worried that you might already have the present he wanted to give you, so he still prefers to ask you instead!

If you want classified info on something or someone, Ortho will also provide that. He’s so evidently cheerful while he tells you all about it.

Overall, Ortho is easily one of the best party guests and planners. Aside from his capabilities, his ability and willingness to just have fun with you is, for a lack of a better term, quite precious.

When he returns to Idia, he’s buzzing about how his battery feels like it’s about to run out of energy with just how much fun he got to have with you :)

only one more to go! the diasomnia + first years after party yuh... side note, how do people tag their platonic ortho reader works? in ao3 you would simply have to use & instead of x, but i dont see people do that here

masterlist

#twst x reader #twst headcanons #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader #epel felmier x reader #twst hcs #nathya twst writing #twst #ortho shroud #idia shroud #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

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ladykailitha · 10 months

Text

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 15

Hello! We finally get to Kenny’s plan and the last puzzle of the past drops into place. I’m not sure how much more of this story there is. I don’t want to rush the ending but it feels pretty close to me. If you have any ideas of what you would like to see before I get to the ending and the epilogue, put it in the comments or tags. I might not include all of them, but if I see something I like I’ll let you know.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

***

What Kenny’s plan was, no one knew and when they would ask, he would just smile at them.

But they really didn’t have time to dwell on whatever he was planning because Junior Prom was upon them and the four of them decided to go as group. Both Mandy and Edie were lesbians but they both knew if they showed up with other girls or even with each other, they would be turned away from the door. So Harri and Kenny were playing their beards so that they could go and have a little fun for a night.

Steve and Miri, Jeff’s wife, took the girls out shopping while while Eddie and Jeff took the boys out to get their tuxes.

Edie and Mandy tried on several dresses, with Edie deciding on long grey, almost Grecian style dress. But Mandy was at a loss before the seamstress came up with an idea.

She got together a few things and then shoved Mandy into the dressing room.

When Mandy walked out, Steve and Edie whistled and clapped. Mira looked her over with a raised eyebrow

“Damn, girl,” Edie said, “give us a twirl.”

Mandy spun slowly in place. She was wearing a long black shirt with the slits up the side that stop in the middle of her thigh. She had on a white tuxedo shirt and black suit jacket.

“If we nip the waist a little,” the seamstress was saying, “and give it a little bit more of an hour glass, it would be perfect.”

Mira stood up and walked over to her daughter. “Do you like it?”

Mandy chewed on her lip. “You don’t?”

Mira grabbed her by the shoulders. “That wasn’t the question, honey. It doesn’t matter what I or anyone else thinks, and that includes your dad. It passes that stupid fucking dress code list they gave us. Do. You. Like. It?”

Mandy nodded.

Mira turned to the seamstress. “How long will the alterations take?”

The seamstress cocked her and said, “Three days?”

Mira nodded. “Then we’ll buy the whole lot. Go pick out shoes and accessories, sweetie.”

Mandy jumped up and down excitedly. Edie grabbed her hand and they ran into the depths of the store to try on everything they could ever want to go with their dresses for prom.

“Ma’am?” the seamstress said. “Do you have the list with you? Of things that they have to adhere to?”

Mira shook her head.

“I do!” Steve said pulling it out of his pocket. “I brought it with me because I already tangled with the principal once this year, I figured two would be pushing it.”

He handed it to her.

The seamstress poured over the list very carefully. She grinned and turned to Mira.

“You want to make your daughter love you forever and still color inside the lines?”

Mira tilted her head. “I’m listening.”

After she told them her idea, Steve burst out laughing. “She’ll love it.”

Mira nodded. “Hell, yeah.”

The night of prom came along and everyone looked fucking fantastic. Kenny was in a traditional tux, while Harri paired his suit pants and black button up shirt with a leather jacket. The top three buttons were undone and he wore chains on his neck.

Edie paired her grey gown with a tarnished silver shrug jacket and matching kitten heels. She looked stunning, but the star of the night was Mandy. She wore black high heels with chunky crystal buckles on them which matched the rest of her jewelry. But what really set the outfit off was the tuxedo pants that she wore instead of the skirt.

The teacher at the door scoured the list for any sign that girls couldn’t wear slacks. But there wasn’t any and the teacher was forced to let them in. She scowled at them all for toeing the line without crossing it.

Edie and Harri stopped short when they saw who two of the parent chaperons were.

Standing on opposite sides of the gym trying to pretend the other wasn’t there were Steve and Eddie.

All three of Kenny’s friends turned to him in shock.

“How the hell did you managed that?” Mandy asked, her eyes wide.

Kenny chuckled. “My mom is president of the PTA and on the dance committee. She is two things.” He held up two fingers. “Charming and persistent. My dad uses her to get the stingiest people to open their wallets for his pet charities all the time. I just merely suggested that your dads would be the perfect people for the job and let her do the work.”

Harri and Edie exchanged a glance.

“Huh,” Harri said. “Could work. Especially if you make them stop ignoring each other.”

Kenny looked over at them standing there awkwardly. “That might be the hardest part, yes.”

Harri ran his tongue over the top row of his teeth as a plan formed in his head. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

He marched up to his dad. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to a chaperon?”

Eddie winced. “I was hoping to get out of it, if I’m honest.” He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“It’s mortifying!” Harri insisted. “I’m going to be the talk of the school on Monday on how my lame ass dad was standing there awkwardly all night while Edie’s dad gets to be the cool chaperon!”

Eddie’s head reared back. “Hey! I can be cool too.”

Harri crossed his arms and leaned back on his foot. “We both know that you have been cool a single day in your life. The closest you get to cool is by proxy. Being in a rock band and working with cool people on their albums.”

“You little punk!” Eddie teased back, ruffling his son’s hair. “I’ll show you who’s cool.”

Harri scoffed. “Mr Harrington looks cooler than you and he’s just standing there.”

Eddie looked over at Steve who was wearing a classic tux. He had his hands shoved in his pockets as his eyes wandered over the throng of bouncing teenagers.

“After all according to Uncle Jeff,” Harri said, driving the point home, “he was prom king, super popular, and was actually called King Steve...you can’t get much cooler than that.”

Eddie scowled. “And did Uncle Jeff mention he was a bully, too?”

Harri half shrugged. “Kept the real bullies from doing real damage is what I heard.”

Eddie frowned. Okay, yeah. Fine.

“I can be cool.”

Harri lifted his chin. “Prove it.”

Eddie brushed past him and marched over to wear to Steve was standing.

Harri’s friends came up to him.

“What was that about?” Mandy asked.

“Yeah,” Kenny said. “Whatever you said seemed to light a fire under his ass.”

Harri just grinned. “One thing my dad can’t stand is being called uncool. So I may have poked the bear a bit.”

Steve laughed and they all turned to see Eddie and him laughing at something Eddie had said.

“Congrats!” Edie said. “It worked.”

“Which means it’s party time!” Kenny said rubbing his hands together.

The other three cheered and got down to enjoying themselves.

Steve was going to get a migraine. Why did he agree to this? He had already caught three idiots trying to smuggle beer into the dance. This offended him greatly as he had managed to sneak in booze at all three dances he went to without being caught.

He just made sure that when he told the kid that, that he was out of hearing range of another chaperon or a student that might tattle. It was always the quiet ones you had look out for. They could be snitches or didn’t care and you were never sure which one you were going to get.

Eddie came up into him early in the dance and they had fun playing spot the idiot. Trying to figure out which ones had booze, which ones had weed, and which ones were out to do real harm.

Eddie actually managed to catch one kid with drugs. Actual drugs. They managed to confiscate it without alerting the principal or one of the other chaperons but that was a trip and half. One they weren’t going to tell their kids.

This was only one of the ‘highlights’ of the evening. The main one came when Edie saw Steve with a small plate of the little h'orderves and said something about it.

“I really hope that’s not all you’ve eaten today,” she said glaring at the plate.

Eddie who was nearby, frowned.

Steve scowled at her. “You had dinner with me earlier. You know it’s not.”

“But that was just a little meal to tide me over until I went out to eat with my friends,” Edie protested.

“And I ate more of it then you did,” Steve countered. “I’m fine, honey. Please just leave this alone. Go have fun with your friends. Don’t make tonight about this. Please.”

“I just don’t want you to faint again!” Edie hissed.

Steve turned and saw Eddie standing there. He turned to back her and said, “I’m done talking about this.”

He threw his food in the trash and stormed out the double doors. The banged shut behind him.

Edie gulped. Eddie raised an eyebrow at her and her shoulders slumped.

“I fucked up.”

“It certainly sounds that way,” Eddie said. “There is obviously something going on there, and you’re going to worry. But you have to understand, you’re his daughter. Not his wife or his mother or even his friend. You pushing him like this only making things worse.”

She folded her arms across her waist and looked away. “You sound like my therapist.”

Eddie scoffed. “Then maybe you should have been listening. Go back to your friends, Edie. Have fun. Stop being your dad’s keeper for a single night. Leave it to me.”

Edie nodded. “Tell him I’m sorry, will you?”

Eddie smiled. “Sure thing.”

He went to go tell another chaperon that he was going out for a smoke and followed Steve out the double doors.

Steve was pissed. He had told her over and over again not say anything in front of other people. And yet, she still did it all the time. This was the last straw. There was no way that Eddie didn’t hear her.

Who was pretty much the last person Steve wanted to know. But it was out of the bag now. The question was to tell him why.

A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see the worried expression on Eddie’s face. Of course he was going to tell him. He deserved to know. He just wished it had been on his schedule.

Eddie sat down next to him on the ground and bumped him gently with his shoulder.

He pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Steve, who took it gratefully. Eddie lit both their cigarettes and they smoked in silence for a moment.

“I was going to tell you,” Steve murmured. “About the time I collapsed. Fainted. Whatever. Just...”

“Not in a crowded gymnasium filled with horny teenagers?” Eddie asked.

Steve huffed out a chuckle. “Yeah.”

Eddie looked at him a moment before it clicked. He rolled his head back and licked his lips. “Fuck. It was just before Jay’s funeral, wasn’t it?”

Steve hung his head in shame. “I was at the airport on my way to England when I collapsed in the fucking boarding area.”

Eddie’s head snapped in Steve’s direction. “What?!”

“Edie doesn’t know about that part,” he admitted quietly. “Dustin told her that we were at the house when I fainted. I still don’t know how Dustin kept it out of the press. I suspect Nancy was involved.”

Eddie sighed. “What happened, Stevie?”

Steve let out a sob. “After Andy, I just got so depressed. So...broken. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep. I understand a lot people with depression actually sleep more. But not me. No, the Upside Down fucked that up too. Edie had just started school and Jeff had to take her.”

“Did he know why?” Eddie asked, gently. He wouldn’t be mad at Jeff if he knew about what happened and he didn’t. Look, he was fucked up, but he wasn’t that fucked up, you know? It was very personal for Steve and if Jeff and Dustin were the only people who knew, then Eddie was grateful damn it.

Steve shook his head. “Not until after the funeral.”

Eddie closed his eyes and opened them slowly. “I’m guessing he took Edie in while you were in the hospital?”

Steve nodded. “Dustin and Suzie couldn’t take her because he had to run the company. After the hospital I was put into on of those fancy rehab centers. Not for drugs or alcohol–”

“For your eating,” Eddie said getting it instantly.

Steve lifted his head as he tried to choke back tears. “Apparently the sports and my parents and the whole fucking Upside Down gave me a really unhealthy relationship with eating.”

Eddie flicked his cigarette out on the pavement and wrapped his arm around him. “I’m sorry you went through all that, sweetheart.”

Steve just started sobbing into his arm, unable to stop once the tears began.

“I’ve got you, Stevie,” Eddie murmured. “I’ve got you.” He kissed the top of Steve’s head fiercely. “I’m here now. It’s not okay and maybe it never will be, but I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

After awhile, Steve’s sobs slackened and he just finally relaxed.

“I didn’t tell you,” he murmured, “because I was afraid that if you knew, you’d pity me. I didn’t want to guilt you into being with me.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “You still...”

Steve nodded. “But not yet. I can’t–I just...not yet.”

Eddie hugged him tighter. “Oh sweetheart, I waited twenty years thinking you didn’t return my feelings, I think I can wait at least that knowing that you do.”

Steve took the ring off his hand and slipped it back on Eddie’s right hand, where it belonged. “This is my promise to you. I do want to be with you. Just...I need more time.”

Eddie looked at the ring on his finger and smiled up at Steve. “We’ll still be friends, right?”

Steve let out a watery laugh. “Oh yeah! You’ve got me for life, Munson. You’ll find I’m like a cockroach that way. You’ll never be rid of me now.”

Eddie grinned. “Yeah, okay. I think I can work with that.”

Steve lurched to his feet. “We should probably get back in there before someone decides to burn the school down.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, there is probably a version of me in there and I shouldn’t leave them alone for very long.”

Steve laughed too. “Yeah, but it’s the prom king you should look out for.”

Eddie put his arm around Steve’s shoulder and led them back into the gym. “Yeah, why’s that?”

“Because I’m pretty sure I saw him spike the teachers’ table’s punch.”

Eddie blinked. “You mean the punch that was already eighty percent alcohol?”

Steve hummed in response.

“Dead god,” Eddie said wide-eyed. “Those poor teachers are going to have the worst hangovers tomorrow.”

“Not you?” Steve asked, leaning into the warmth that was Eddie Munson.

“Nah, babe,” he said, pulling out a hip flask. “Rule number one of any high school dance is never trust the punch.”

Steve laughed as they walked back through the double doors and back to the dance.

***

Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @trashpocket @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @mightbeasleep @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @trashpocket @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @steddie-as-they-go @lillemilly @callas-shitshow @bisexualdisastersworld @renaissan-vvitch @immortal-iratze @bookbinderbitch @cardigangoth @lilacrobin @nightmareglitter @nerdsconquerall @stxrcrossed186

#My writing #steddie #stranger things #reconnecting years later AU #ladykailtiha writes

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bluedalahorse · 3 months

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So is now the time to post the opening of my unfinished YR abortion road trip fic?

Maybe. Maybe today is the day! This isn’t on AO3 because I haven’t finished it, but @heliza24 really wants me to finish it and would be glad that I posted even this part to fandom.

There’s more written than just this excerpt, so I could always post more if people are curious.

No title yet, because this is untitled.

Summary: Shortly after season 2, Felice wanders off campus to process a high-profile arrest and other recent shakeups at Hillerska. She doesn’t expect to meet Sara Eriksson, who is in the process of running away.

—

Felice’s Phone

Group chat: MANOR HOUSE GIRLZ (Fredrika, Maddie, Stella)

Maddie: yooooo Felice

Maddie: tell us you missed Swedish class for something epic

Stella: we took notes for you

Stella: mine are better than Fredrika’s

Fredrika: LIES mine are better than Stella’s

Maddie: you’re not in your room

Maddie: girl are you even at school?

Fredrika: just tell us where you are and we won’t snitch

Stella: Felice?

Stella: please check in

Stella: and maybe flirt with one of the local boys so he buys you booze

Fredrika: and then share?

Maddie: don’t listen to them

Maddie: only flirt with someone hot

Stella: yeah he’s got to be at least as hot as Fredrika

Stella: lol j/k ahahaha what

Fredrika: heeeyyyyyyy Feliiiiiice where are youuuuu

Fredrika: we’re a little worried, just let us know

Fredrika: tho at least you didn’t get sick and disappear into the bathroom like SOMEONE we could mention

Stella: but we’re not mentioning her

Stella: bc we don’t mention traitors

—

Felice sits at the edge of a convenience store parking lot in Bjärstad, counting all the scars in her nail polish. It’s supposed to be a fresh coat. Stella brushed the ballet slipper pink onto Felice’s nails on Tuesday, and right now it’s only—Thursday afternoon? Felice is drunk on leftover vodka she stashed in her closet behind her Prada handbag, but not so drunk she’s forgotten that it’s Thursday. A Thursday full of literal dark clouds, at that.

Tuesday was sunny, and it was also the day that police arrived at Hillerska and escorted that guy away. That one, the ex. Wednesday, Felice’s ex-best friend, her real ex in any kind of emotional attachment sense, came back to school for half a day, but couldn’t make it past lunch. Now people are spreading rumors about Sara Eriksson puking in the bathroom. So maybe it’s been a weird enough forty-eight hours that Felice hasn’t noticed herself scarring up her nail polish.

And maybe, now that today is Thursday, Felice needed to skip classes and get drunk and go for a walk off campus, and buy a bag of chips from a nothing convenience store in this nowhere town. There are things getting drunk won’t solve. But it’s not like being sober is going to solve things for Felice right now, either.

Felice’s phone vibrates against her thigh. She pulls it out of the pocket of her sweatpants and notes the texts from Fredrika and Stella and Maddie in her (recently purged) group chat. They’re asking her where she is, and is she coming to dinner. Please check in, fuck. How performatively worried. Felice unlocks her phone and almost fumbles her way through a typo-soaked message before deciding she’ll do this psychically. I am walking back to Hillerska now, she thinks in the general direction of school, slow and deliberate. She leaves the rest up to Maddie’s alleged witch powers and pulls herself to her feet.

Felice’s ankles ache the way they do when she’s walked on her Jimmy Choo heels for too long. She’s not wearing heels, though, only slides. Her legs wobble. Her thoughts swirl in slow, doomed circles, like dirty water circling a drain, as thunder rumbles overhead and a cool breeze rustles nearby trees. The rain is imminent, and Felice contemplates how much worse it will be when she shows back up on campus not only drunk, but drunk and completely soaked through, her carefully styled curls a wreck.

(Stella, Fredrika, and Maddie could get away with a stunt like that. A teacher might ignore their obvious alcohol breath and just tell them to put on dry pajamas and go to bed. But for Felice, they notice everything. Because Felice sticks out to begin with.)

Felice is caught in a vision of the headmistress, hissing the word inebriated on a phone call to parents, when a van pulls into the parking lot. She’s not as up on cars as the Forest Ridge boys, but this van definitely belongs to a Bjärstad local. She braces herself for an awful catcall as the window rolls down halfway, certain she’s about to get leered at by some guy in a permanently affixed football beanie.

Instead, it’s a girl. No football beanie, only football confidence. Felice recognizes the girl from Simon’s instagram—she’s come up a few times. Felice hasn’t been counting, but she’s noticed.

“You’re in choir with Simon,” says the girl. “Felice, right? I’m Rosh. Need a ride back to school?”

“I can walk. I think,” Felice says. And then, so she can own her story, she adds, “I might be a little drunk?”

Felice adjusts her posture, straightening her spine and setting her hand on her hip as she makes eye contact with Rosh. Immediately a sense of embarrassment twinges in her chest at her pose. What the—was she modeling? She’s not making a case for relative sobriety, whatever she’s doing.

Rosh turns to consult with someone next to her, then turns back to Felice.

“Come on,” she says. “Get in the car. Back seat.”

“Um. Thanks.”

The back door of the van slides open. Felice doesn’t have time to question who Rosh has next to her in the passenger seat. She receives an answer soon enough anyway. The back of Sara Eriksson’s head is so familiar—defeated brown waves that haven’t seen a wash day in too long. Sara’s shoulders are hunched over; her neck is bent. She does not turn around.

Two weeks ago, if Felice saw Sara looking like that, she would have pulled Sara close and rubbed her back until they talked through what was wrong.

(Part of her still wants to. But she doesn’t like the idea of Sara mentally comparing her hugs to someone else’s, and she’s allowed to be petty about that.)

“You don’t have to talk to me,” Sara says, tapping away on her phone. She sounds exhausted. “I’m busy anyway.”

“If you hydrate, we won’t ask about the drinking,” says Rosh to Felice. “There’s sports drink behind the passenger seat. Take one.”

Right. Sports drink. Because Rosh does sports, Felice has noticed. It sounds like an order more than an offer. Felice ducks down and liberates one of the bottles from its six-pack. The liquid inside is neon-bright and tastes of soft metal and fake citrus. Rain splatters on the van’s windows—the first sparse and irregular drops, followed by the entire pounding ensemble of water. For the next few minutes, Felice focuses on the horizon, where blurred trees meet the mirror-gray sky, and sips her post-football-run drink. Sara takes care of the directions to her old dorm, uttering an occasional “right” or “left” or “go straight here” to Rosh. Felice can’t tell why she’s doing it. Why she didn’t just insist on leaving Felice behind.

Then, the conversation shifts. Or at least, the conversation that Felice isn’t a part of shifts.

“Rosh?” Sara whispers. “I can’t find anywhere cheap enough for us to stay.”

“Even on the apps?” Rosh replies. “Look, I told you, I have some money—”

“I can’t take your money.”

“It’s money I owe Simon anyway.”

“That’s even worse. He already hates me. You should hate me more.”

Sara breathes in, then out, audibly. She does it a few more times. Felice’s own lungs strain in sympathy.

“We have to find a place for the weekend,” says Sara. “Or we can’t do it.”

“What are you talking about?” Felice finally asks. She presses a hand to her thigh to keep her leg from jiggling. Since she was seven years old and started her first etiquette classes, she’s always been able to sit still. Always.

“We’re going on a weekend trip,” Rosh answers, too brightly. “To Stockholm—”

“—to an island,” Sara says at the same time.

“Stockholm has lots of islands,” Rosh improvises. “Sara just needs to be away for a weekend. That’s all.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re going on a normal trip,” says Felice, hearing the suspicion in her voice, and how it sounds like her father.

“We told Mamma we were traveling,” says Sara. “My period’s late. I don’t––I don’t think it’s coming. I know it isn’t coming, because—”

“Don’t tell me that.”

“—I did a pregnancy test.”

Felice digs her chipped nails into her knee. She knew how Sara’s sentence was going to end. Not the way she knows people’s names or the answers on a test she studied for, but the way she knows to pull her hand away when she touches a hot stove. Swift and unthinking. She even gasps the same way she does when she’s burned. Not out of surprise but out of pain.

“Fuck, Sara,” says Rosh. “You don’t have to tell her. She could tell the media.”

“Sorry,” says Sara. “It just came out. I’m scared, okay?” At last she turns around and looks toward Felice, her fingers curled around the back of the passenger seat. Her face is red and purple-tinged in all the places that indicate crying and sleepless nights. “Look, you can’t tell anyone. Rosh and I are going to deal with it. We already got the pills. I can’t deal with it at home because of Simon and Mamma. I don’t know what they’d say.”

“We wanted to use my apartment,” Rosh adds. “We thought my mother was going to visit one of my aunties this weekend. But auntie came to visit us instead at the last minute.”

“Please don’t tell anyone at school, Felice.” Sara turns away again. “Or Simon. Don’t tell him either.”

“People are already talking about how you threw up in the bathroom,” says Felice. “And if you’re absent from school again, they’re going to wonder.”

“Please don’t tell,” Sara repeats, voice muffled as she pushes her face into her coat sleeves.

As much as the infusion of electrolytes, courtesy of Rosh, has helped Felice to steady her head, she’s still too drunk for this. Or maybe, again, she isn’t drunk enough. She tries to imagine her math class tomorrow, working trigonometry problems with an empty chair beside her and actually knowing why the chair is empty. She can’t. Felice can’t even imagine faking sick and staying home from class, because then Stella and Fredrika would come visit her with buns and coffee, and then they’d want to gossip.

At first, being able to gossip felt good. But ever since the arrest—since the security from the palace arriving to keep out news cameras—gossip is more like gangrene eating at an already wounded limb. Felice needs amputation, or at least closure. Until then, she’s just going to keep asking herself questions about what part of the catastrophe she made happen. Why didn’t she ask Sara who she had a crush on, like best friends always do? Why hadn’t she been more concerned that Sara was gone all the time and came back late to their room? Why hadn’t she told Sara how bad things got with him last term, to warn her?

Felice doesn’t want to keep asking herself the questions, because this isn’t her fault. Maybe Sara isn’t the only one who needs an emergency abortion. Maybe Felice needs to abort Sara from her life, so she can move on.

But if she’s going to do this, she has to make it her choice.

“My family has a vacation cabin,” Felice says. “We can go there to do what you need to do. But after that, we will never speak to one another ever again. Alright?”

Sara’s shrunk down in her seat so much that Felice can’t see her anymore, but Felice is pretty sure from the rustling of her coat sleeves that she’s nodding.

Five minutes later, Felice is on the phone with her mother, feeding her excuses and exaggerations until she gets the approval to leave school for the weekend. At the same time, Rosh turns the van around and drives away from Hillerska.

#young royals #my fic snippets #sara eriksson #felice ehrencrona #rosh young royals #cw pregnancy #cw abortion

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pinkoffice · 2 months

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sukuna x reader (a lil experiment)

CHAPTER 2

So that’s how you ended up with your black high heeled boots and your go-to mini black dress, fishnets on full display. Nobara insisted on a sexy but not desperate look, whatever that meant.

You had to admit, getting ready with the trio was way more chaotic than you anticipated, but it was still a lot of fun. Nobara with her music blasting through the apartment, Itadori tormenting Megumi to not wear the same t-shirt and his “going out pants” (they were really just plain jeans??) and you just trying to find your goddamn charger.

It just felt like your first year of uni all over again and, despite not wanting to admit it, a sense of almost overwhelming nostalgia ran all over your body. Maybe you did need to loosen up a bit, you thought to yourself as you took in the sight of your best friends in your living room, laughing about something Yuuji said.

In spite of feeling better about your little breakthrough, now that you were actually leaving your building, the anxiety you tried so hard to suppress for the last three hours started rising up your chest again.

Shit, were you really doing this? What about never going out again? Where and when did your resolve become so fragile?

“Hey, ‘you okay?” Megumi’s soft voice reached your ears, as his warm touch pulled you to the side

You tried to hide your worries through a smile, but when Megumi’s grip on your wrist gently tightened, you had to mentally prepare yourself for the conversation you were about to have.

Throughout your walk, you kept your gaze trained on your hands, as you explained how parties were sort of your coping mechanism back when your family wasn’t so full of problems as it was now.

Long story short, you tried to fix people, determined to prove a point to your parents and your self-esteem practically vanished. That is, until recently: when you decided to start taking care of yourself and avoid the type of people you felt strangely attracted to.

Megumi listened to your words like his life depended on it. This was one of those rare times you opened up, and he was not throwing that opportunity away.

After what it seemed like years of waiting, you hear the boy’s voice and you braced yourself for a condescending lecture, or that look of disappointment people gave you when they found out you didn’t have a super traumatic backstory, like an anime character.

“I think all those people you met were assholes, (name)”

What?

He sighs, running his hand through his disheveled hair, “No one in their right mind would consider you unworthy of their time. Besides, you were young, it’s okay to make mistakes. What’s not okay, though, is lie and lead on a girl just because you want to get laid”

His tone softens in the way it always does for his friends, leaving you to wonder if he is even aware of that, “I’m sorry you had to go through that, (name), I really am, but you can’t hide in your comfort zone forever. There will be a day where you have to confront your demons and just tell them to fuck off. We will protect you until then, okay?”

Gosh, that smile should be illegal.

You felt your belly do a backflip, as your cheeks started to warm up. You finally looked up at him and you wish you hadn’t. The way his eyes held so much cherish made you feel like the most precious thing in the whole world.

It made you feel things you were not supposed to feel.

You finally averted your gaze to Nobara and Yuuji, who were now waiting for you to catch up on them. Looks like they finally found the place.

You look at Megumi again, he still staring at you, “Thank you, Megumi, that really means a lot to me” More than you know, you wanted to say, but instead you side hugged him and flashed a smile.

The prettiest smile the boy has ever seen.

“What’s taking you so long? We’re going to miss happy hour!” You laughed lovingly at Nobara’s childish attitude. It was at times like these that you felt so grateful for your friends, they made you feel like, no matter what happened, everything was going to turn out okay.

“All right, time to party~!” The golden retriever of the group slung his arms around yours and Nobara’s shoulders.

As some random music played in the background, his attention was suddenly stolen and very quickly focused on you again, a devilish smirk on his features.

Uh-oh

You didn’t like that look one bit, it was that look that got you 99.9% of your detentions back in middle school.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. It’s not going to happen.” Panic flooded your eyes when Yuuji started to pout.

“(Name), you know I love you, right? You’re like, my best friend, you’re practically my sister”

“Stop! I don’t want to hear your emotional manipulation. It’s not going to happen, Yuuji. Whatever it is, it’s a bad idea and I won’t be taking part in it” but you were already hand-in-hand with the only guy who could slaughter an entire room with a smile on his face, completely unbothered.

Finally done resisting his infallible charm (and his superhuman strengh, what was up with this kid, anyway?), you followed his gaze, coming to terms with the situation you could have avoided if you just stayed in your godamned appartment.

Besides a beautiful, blue eyed blonde girl, the “future girlfriend” Yuuji has been telling you about since forever, stood the guy of your (wet) dreams. AKA the biggest regret of your night and your probably soon to be 13th reason. Tall, tattoos, all muscular and manly, with bad news written all over him.

“Hey, look who finally got here” Sukuna, Itadori’s older brother, said, giving you a once over that made your whole body shiver.

What in the hell have you gotten yourself into?

#jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna

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alwaysdjarin · 1 year

Text

Unholy

a Dave York x f!reader Series

Part 3 - Spencer

RATING: Explicit 18+ ONLY. No Minors Please. My work is 18+.

Warnings: Dave York always comes with his own warning, soft!Dave, strip clubs, mentions of cancer (readers mum), infidelity, sugar daddy Dave???, a little bit of angst & hurt/comfort (please tell me if I forgot something)

Words: ~2.3k

A/N: ok here we go again. :-D Have fun and tell me what you think about these two.

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You can’t see him when you’re on stage. The headlights blind you, so you’re not able to see more than the guys who are standing directly in front of the stage. You recognize some regulars and a small group of friends, probably a bachelor party.

But you can feel his eyes on your body, dark brown orbs that observe you and it almost burns on your skin.

You try to get the thoughts of the mysterious man waiting for you on the bar out of your head and focus on your work instead.

Wearing a black leather bra and thong with a lot of silver buckles, overknee heels and cute little cat ears, you’re everyone’s dream tonight. Your makeup is strong with a lot of black around your eyes and perfect for the show. A show that’s exactly what this is for you. Eye candy for the men, money for you. And so you start to overthink why you have been so stupid to agree to go for a drink with the stranger. He probably saw you dancing a few times and is blinded by your appearance on stage and will quickly get bored of your real personality. It’s always like that.

Stop overthinking!

You’re dancing for at least an hour, showing some acrobatic moves on the pole or move to the edge of the stage to satisfy the patrons who can’t wait to stick some money into your pants.

When the show is over, you disappear behind the stage, freshen up as best as you can and remove the makeup from around your eyes. You change back into your leggings and oversized shirt and let your hair open.

2 hours later

You find yourself sitting at ‘Stacey’s’ - a cute little Diner a few blocks away from your apartment. Dave York, the handsome stranger across from you.

He seems to be a very nice guy, the kind of men who opens the door for you, who holds your hand to help you out of his (very impressive) black Audi, the kind of men you’ve never met before if you’re honest.

The conversation between you two flows easily, Dave is very interested in you. And so it comes that you tell him about your life. That you wanted to be a professional dancer, having your own dance school. But life isn’t always easy and after your mom died because of cancer and your dad’s living in an other state, you took the best job you could get to pay your bills. That’s how you ended up in the strip club and never took the chance to fulfill your dreams.

“But it’s not that bad. I like my job, really.” You feel his dark brown eyes study you, brows high.

“Yeah, I believe you. I mean there’s nothing bad about your job. I didn’t want to offend you. I was just curious.”

Dave could see the shining in your eyes, when you talked about your dream of an own dancing school. He imagines you teaching his little girls ballet, the perfect curves of your body in a tight leggings, sweat running down your clavicle. No poor guys who stare at your almost naked body on the stage of a strip club. No, you would be protected from the greedy stares surrounded by children who adore you. He would be the only one to worship your body, the only one who lays his eyes on you.

The clearing of your throat pulls him out of his thoughts, you obviously caught him staring. “And you? What do you do for a living?”

Dave thinks about his answer for a moment. This is the part of the conversation where he always lies. But he can’t lie to you. His jaw clenches. Fuck, why can he not lie to you?

“I’m on business trips often…carry out orders for different clients. I have a team with me, three men.” He tries to explain without revealing too much.

“So you’re a freelancer!?” You assume.

“Kind of…” He replies.

You like Dave. You don’t know why, but something on him is addictive. It's easy to notice that he's always hiding something. That he's trying to be honest and open, but something is stopping him. You’ve studied his features the last hours, the little pout when he’s listening to something you’re telling him, the tickling of his jaw when he’s thinking and apparently not sure how to respond, the frown on his face when you say something he doesn’t like to hear, like stories about disrespectful customers, men who doesn’t know their limits.

He’s gorgeous you think to yourself. But then your eyes flicker to his hands and you’re seeing the golden ring. You’ve eyed the glimmering piece the whole night and it reminds you painfully that Dave York is just as all the other men you get to know in your line of work.

You’re gulping, not longer able to ignore the obvious. “So Dave, does your wife know that you’re here? With me?” it blurts out of you and you notice directly that this question caught him off guard.

His eyes shoot to his wedding band and then he smirks. He’s really smirking at you after you mentioned his wife? He looks at your lips and you feel something in the air between you two change.

“She’s out of town for the weekend.” His voice is low and thick and you know directly in which direction this part of the night should go, when you give him what he wants.

You can’t hide the disappointment in your face, when you realize that he’s in fact just like every other guy and you wasted your time tonight.

“Okay listen…” you speak while you rummage through your bag for your wallet “I like you, I REALLY do. And it’s okay, you’re not the first married man who wants to spend a night with me-“ Dave opens his mouth, visibly shocked by your presumption, but you hold your hand up to stop him. “-but I’m not…I’m NOT doing this kind of shit.” You shake your head and dare to look into his eyes. He frowns, trying to understand what you think of him. You go on “I trust you, so…if you want to, you can come to the club anytime you want and I’ll give you a private dance. It’s ok for me. Just let’s keep this…relationship on a business level. ” You lay cash for your food and drinks on the table and stand up. “I…I have to go. Have a good night Dave.” You smile politely at him, tears lining your eyes, unable to cover the disappointment. And then you rush out of the Diner, before the first tear runs down your face.

Dave is behind you within seconds, calling your name. You close your eyes before you slowly turn to face him.

He studies your broken expression and swears this sight breaks something deep in his chest. He should have known what you assume about him, spending his Friday night with you, a girl he met at a strip club and wearing his fucking wedding ring the whole time. But it’s more than this, he knows that and he is aware that he only has one chance to make this clear to you here and now.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly while you wipe the tears from your cheeks and it takes everything in him not to touch you.

You nod. “It’s okay Dave, really. I should know by now that men always-“ But he interrupts you this time.

“No! Not that!” He wipes his hand across his face, scratching at his chin. “I’m sorry that I made you think that I just want to have sex with you. I’m sorry that I didn’t make my intentions clear. And most of all I’m sorry that I made you cry.”

You frown. “Your intentions? You’re a married man in a strip club who’s having a date with one of the dancers.”

He smirks to lighten up the mood between you two. “This was a date?” And you nod, slightly annoyed. “For me…yes.”

Dave takes a step closer to you, his body now inches away. You can smell him and it’s like a drug that flows through your whole body, eats you up from the inside. You close your eyes to not to look into his brown orbs, you can feel him looking at you, his breath hits your face and his fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Let me take you on a real date.” He whispers and you tremble slightly while you bite your lower lip. “Let me show you that I’m not like the others. Let me give you what you deserve. Let me take care of you.” You can barely hear his words, but they’re there.

His hand is now lying on the side of your face, your eyes still closed while his other hand finds the other side of your face. “I’m not a homewrecker Dave.” Your voice is small, trembling.

Daves nose touches yours and you suck in a breath. The tension between you two is unbearable and you feel like you’re floating.

“I know you’re not. You’re too good for me sweetheart.” The grip on your head tightens and you know what follows. You feel his plush lips featherlight against yours. “Tell me to stop and you’ll never see me again.” His whisper into your mouth makes you weak and you finally give in.

Dave lips are soft against yours and you’re not sure if anyone ever kissed you like this. It’s slow and sensual. He gives you time to let go and relax into him. You’re still not touching him, hands by your sides formed into fists.

Dave breaks the kiss and you look into his eyes. He decides to give you time, you’re more sensible than he thought and he doesn’t want to scare you off. “Let’s get you home sweetheart.”

~*~*~*~*~

The drive to your home is short and silent. Dave opens the door to help you out of his car and escorts you to your front door.

“I know it sounds unconventional but I mean what I said. Let me take care of you, let me show you what your worth is. Maybe I can help you to fulfill your dream, dancing queen.”

Your body feels like you’re on fire. God you want him. Dave York has you in a chokehold and you want to know more about him, want to find out what his little secrets are, hell you even want to fuck him.

You hesitate for a second. “But your wife…I…I…”

He makes a step in your direction, enters your private space like it’s nothing and you’re lost. Your back hits your door while his hand is on your head again, thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t worry about my wife.” A kiss to your forehead. “Don’t worry about anything sweetheart.” Another kiss. “You even don’t need to sleep with me.” Kiss. “God, I just want to see you happy.” Kiss.

You tilt your head up to look into his eyes. “…like a sugar daddy thing?” You frown. You’ve heard about the concept a few times but never considered this kind of relationship for yourself.

Dave smirks again and you appreciate the little crinkles around his eyes. “Call it whatever you want.” His thumb is still caressing your face. “Just let me into your life and we will see. We will figure it out.”

You nod. “Okay then. I’ll think about it.”

The intimate moment between you two is interrupted, when you both hear a rumble in your apartment. Dave lays his arm protective around your waist and pulls you away from the door in one smooth movement. You appreciate his reaction, but shake your head laughing.

“I think I have to introduce you to someone.”

Dave frowns when you open the door and something rushes towards him. It takes him a second to realize what’s happening, but then he’s head over heels. There’s a chubby white-brown bulldog wiggling between his legs, happy to see Dave like he knows him for years. Dave goes down on one knee to greet the dog, he loves bulldogs since he was a kid and now YOU - you of all people - have one. Carol never wanted to have a dog.

“It seems like Spencer loves you!” You smile down at the two and your heart swells at the view. Dave York cuddling your dog with a honest smile on his face.

“I…god I love bulldogs.” Dave stands up and smiles at you.

“Seems like we have something in common.” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, not sure what the next step will be.

But Dave knows exactly what to do. He looks you deep in the eyes, the invisible connection between you two is back again and his deep baritone lets a shiver run down your spine.

“Okay sweetheart, you need to rest now. Take your time to think about the things I offered you.”

And this time it’s you who closes the distance between the two of you. Your hands are on his chest and your lips on his within seconds. Daves hands found your hips and it takes all of your strength to not pull him into your apartment. You can’t. You’ll think about everything what happened in the last hours, but for now you enjoy the plush lips on yours and the scent of the best drug you’ve ever heard of: Dave York.

Part 4

Thanks for reading! 🫶🏼

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#pedro pascal #dave york #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york fic #dave york pit #dave york smut #dave york x f!reader #dave york x reader #dave york x you

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m-1-nty · 7 months

Text

The Sound

Inspired by The Sound by The 1975. M*tty Healy sucks, I just like the song.

CW: smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, ex-boyfriend!Geto, slight Gojo x reader, reader has female anatomy, MDI

As the workweek comes to an end and the weekend approaches, Friday nights provide a great opportunity to relax and indulge in some much-needed rest. It's a time to step away from the daily demands of life, rejuvenate your spirit, and enjoy the simple pleasures that bring joy to your heart.

You have just completed the last stack of papers and put them aside. You glance at the small clock on the wall across your table and realize that it is almost 8 p.m. You let out a loud sigh, feeling certain that your neighbors in the next office can hear you. This week has been especially busy at the firm you work at. Not because the demand was big, but because you thought the best way to deal with a major breakup was to overwork yourself. The papers assigned to you were long forgotten, finished almost 4 hours ago, and stacked away in the second drawer.

You gained quite a reputation within your company, but it wasn't because you were exceptional at your job. Three months ago, after a painful breakup, you came up with a way to keep your mind occupied by offering to take care of your colleagues' paperwork. It may have seemed tedious, but it helped you take your mind off your ex and, in return, you received free coffee and lunch from the colleague you were helping.

Usually, your shift would have ended 2 hours ago, but because of your newfound hobby, you are leaving the building at 8:30 today.

As the clock strikes 9:00 PM, you walk through the door of the decent-sized apartment you own all thanks to the great salary you get paid by the firm. Shedding the weight of deadlines and obligations, transformation begins with the change of attire, as formal work clothes are thrown into the laundry bin, the soft embrace of comfortable loungewear engulfs you. The inviting scent of a wholesome dinner permeates the atmosphere. The meal, which you have laboriously prepared, is now served on the table in the softly lit kitchen. As you indulge in each bite, you not only enjoy the flavors but also cherish the valuable moments of nourishment and solitude.

You were enjoying the peacefulness of your apartment until a loud buzzing noise interrupted it. You got up to check the source of the disturbance and found that your close friend, Gojo Satoru, was calling you. When you picked up the call, you immediately heard loud music blasting through the phone.

“HEY Y/N! WHATCHA UP TO?” Gojo’s screaming in your ear makes you do a slight grimace. “I’M AT A PARTY RIGHT NOW, YOU SHOULD COME!”

Because of the music you quickly ended the call and opted for the texting route. After some back and forth, some begging, and some whining from Gojo that you haven’t been to a party in so long you give in and ask for the address of the club he is at.

Chuckling at the very blurry picture of him and Nanami that you just received, you quickly put your phone down and ran to the bedroom. You pulled out a short, tight, black dress you had been keeping for a special occasion from the closet. You knew you could never go wrong with this choice. While styling your hair, you receive a notification on your phone. You quickly ran to the kitchen and grabbed your phone. After reading the notification, which was from Shoko - another friend of yours - asking if you were definitely coming to the party, you replied confirming your attendance and the time she'd pick you up.

However, a thought ran through your head when you realized that Shoko and your ex-boyfriend had been close friends since high school and there was a high chance he would be at the party. Despite this, you decided that he no longer had any impact on your life and continued where you left off.

Finishing both hair and makeup quickly, the next step was to put on shoes. In a good mood, you decided to wear black high heels, hoping you wouldn't regret it by the end of the night. A car honk sounded outside your apartment building, signaling that Shoko had arrived to pick you up. After a quick last-minute look in the mirror, you decided against any touch-ups and ran down the stairs. It had been so long since you felt the excitement of a party like a teenager. Giddy feelings rose in your chest as you got into the car.

“Hi, hotness.” Says Shoko as you greet her with a small peck on her cheek. You flash a smile in her direction. “Right back at you.”

Conversations were short, catching up wasn’t needed since Shoko and you call each other almost every day. The look on her face made you realize that she was hesitating to tell you something. “He is coming too, isn’t he?” You ask, clearly getting it right when she sighs and nods her head.

“I tried to tell Gojo not to invite him, but you know him and his blabbermouth. He is already there waiting with them. We can sit elsewhere if you don’t want to see him.” She said, putting a cigarette in her mouth and motioning for me to light it up.

You ignite a lighter and light the cigarette for her, sharing a small laugh. “No need, I have gotten over him long ago, my feelings are gone and this can be like a little reunion between old friends.”

The ride was short and Shoko managed to park next to the club without any hassle. As you step out of the car, you take a deep breath and mentally prepare yourself for what lies ahead - loud music, sweaty people, and the possibility of running into your ex. You feel a sudden twinge of self-consciousness and pull out a small mirror to check if your make-up is still in place.

As soon as you enter the club, the loud music hits you like a wave. You and Shoko hold hands and make your way inside. Finding the group you're meeting is not difficult - you quickly spot your freakishly tall friend Gojo, who waves at you from a distance.

Maneuvering through drunk people, you safely make it to the table. “YOU MADE IT!” Gojo screamed and engulfed both Shoko and you in a hug. After greeting everyone at the table, which included other friends you weren’t as close to like Mei Mei and Utahime, both around your age, you scanned around the table since you noticed a certain face was missing. Even when you cannot see him you know he is lurking somewhere around. You just know the sound of his heart.

“Looking for someone?” A deep voice appeared out of nowhere, invading the privacy bubble of your left ear. You know that voice all too well.

“Suguru, hello.” You turn to face him, startled. Geto Suguru. Your ex-boyfriend.

“Long time no see, I took it upon myself to order your drink. Here, I hope you still like Daiquiri.” He put the cocktail in front of you and circled around the table, positioning himself right across from you.

It was frustrating for you to admit that he still had a hold on you. You couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement when he remembered your go-to drink at parties. You forced a smile and thanked him before taking a sip, hoping the alcohol would calm down your racing heart.

The conversations between old friends were lively, with everyone recalling moments from high school and college as if they were fresh in their minds. You tried your best to ignore Geto, but you couldn't help but feel his gaze on you every now and then. Every time he looked at you, it sent a shiver down your spine.

The truth was that things between you two ended messily. You were high-school sweethearts turned enemies. After dating for three years, he started to change. He forgot important dates, was constantly late for your dates, refused to hang out with you, and did things that you could never have imagined your Geto doing. Gojo and Shoko, who were close to him, told you that he wasn't cheating on you, he just lost interest. You weren't sure if that was supposed to make you feel better or worse.

One day, you were fed up with his toxic behavior. Both of you were adults, it was already time for settlement and clearly, he wasn’t ready for that. Your mental health was already dealing with your overwhelming job, it couldn’t deal with his bullshit too. What hurt the most was his indifference and lack of reaction after you told him to either change or it was over. He kept it short, claiming he wasn’t going to change because in his eyes there was nothing wrong with his ways. After that, he left you a sobbing mess in the apartment you used to share.

If it wasn’t for Gojo putting his hands on your waist, you would have drowned in your painful memories. He leaned close to your ear. “Let’s dance. It’s our song.” Soon, you were following your obviously drunk friend to the small dance floor. Not a lot of people were present, so you had a clear view of your friends back at the table. You turned and saw Shoko give you a thumbs up, next to her was a clearly annoyed Geto, gripping his glass of liquor close to its breaking point.

A harsh pull from your friend had you hitting his chest, looking up at him you see him smiling. You were no liar, Gojo was easily the most beautiful person you ever met and right now he was extra kissable. “Were you always this pretty?” You were mumbling absentmindedly. Perhaps it was the loud music, flashing lights, or the few drinks you had, but you couldn't resist kissing him on the dancefloor.

See, you were not a person who wanted to make anyone jealous, but in these moments you really wanted Geto to be looking at both of you. Gojo was the first person you knew when high school started, both of your families being well acquainted. Naturally, you became very close with him, almost too easily. He was a funny guy, charming, and very easy on the eyes. The part you don’t speak about often is that Gojo was your first. Your first date, your first hand-holding, your first kiss, you get the point. Meaning that Gojo was a touchy subject to your relationship with Geto, even after you told him countless times that both of you were just young and experimenting. What angered you more was Geto forbidding you to hang out with your oldest and closest friend, so now that you were done with him hangouts with Gojo were more frequent.

Back to reality, the kiss you were sharing kept going until both of you couldn’t handle the lack of air. After pulling apart, he pressed his forehead on yours, catching his breath.

“Wow, just like old times.” He said. The alcohol in his system was present in the breathiness of the words, noticeable thanks to the close proximity. The kiss was then long forgotten as the both of you started dancing, as you were supposed to in the first place, enjoying the few seconds left of the song both of you liked.

Gojo excused himself after a few songs and ordered another round of drinks for everyone. You declined his offer to go back to the table together, saying you were in the mood for dancing. In reality, you didn't want to face Geto's cold stare which you could feel all the way to the dance floor.

You continued to dance to the songs, glad they all fit your taste. Shoko joined you for a bit, not wanting you to be harassed by men circling around. Both of you danced like high-school girls trying to get the attention of their crush at a party. Laughing and spinning around, you actually felt glad that you were spending Friday night out instead of being cooped up at home watching any romance movie or series you could find.

As you were spinning around, you saw Geto take a quick look your way before leaving the bar. It was unlike him to leave a party early. You couldn't help but wonder, 'Why do I care if he leaves?' as you continued to enjoy your time with Shoko.

Time was nearing 1 in the morning, and people already leaving the bar. Not having the same tolerance for alcohol as you did when you were younger, you bid goodbye to the people left on the table. Gojo quickly grabbed his car keys and headed your way. “Let me take you home.”

You quickly denied his offer, knowing he drank more than you and wasn’t in the right state to be driving his ridiculously expensive car.

“Then let me walk you home, sweetness. Can’t have you go home alone looking that good. I can’t be dealing with a hangover headache and a kidnapped friend tomorrow.” He swung his arm around your shoulders as the both of you started walking in the direction of your residence.

The chilly night air worked wonders. You could already feel your mind clearing up from the effects of the alcohol. Gojo, on the other hand, was still affected by the drink, stumbling along with every step. His cheeks were flushed, and he found everything you said hilarious. Eventually, you reached your apartment door with a drunken Gojo still leaning on your shoulder.

As you went to put your keys in, your hand was stopped by his larger one, gripping your wrist not to hurt you, just to stop you momentarily.

“Can I kiss you right now?”

“Gojo, how wasted are you?” Sighing, you continue to unlock your door.

“I might be wasted, but this condom in my pocket doesn’t have to be, hehe” Shooting a wink, he started leaning forward, his body caging yours against your apartment door. His lips found their place on your neck, slowly leaving sensual kisses until they stopped at your jaw. You move away slightly as you turn to face him. The redness in his cheeks made his eyes glow a new shade of blue.

'Angelic' You thought.

“You can kiss me another time. Preferably when you aren’t drunk. I’ll call you a cab, you are in no state to walk home.”

As the both of you were waiting for the cab in front of your apartment building, from the corner of your eye you could see him pull out his phone and write something in his notes. He looks pleased as he turns the phone to you, a loopy smile gracing his gorgeous face.

‘Kiss Y/N whn nuot drunk’

You laugh and shoo away his hand. After a while the cab pulled up, placing Gojo in the back, you turn to the driver and tell the address, giving him the money needed in advance.

You quickly get back to your apartment, sighing in relief as you take your heels off. The dress and make-up were next, cozying up in your sleepwear afterward. A quick skin-care routine and you are ready for sleep as you climb up in your bed. The walls were still spinning thanks to the few drinks you had, but it was manageable. As you are checking with your friends, making sure everyone got home safely, you get interrupted by a call. The contact surprises you. Why is Geto calling you at 2 in the morning? You thought you blocked him.

Hesitantly, you pick up, voice small as you greet him.

“I’m surprised you picked up.”

His voice was breathy, resonating from deep within his chest, producing a velvety, warm timbre that commands your attention, drawing you in with its captivating allure. It was what first attracted you to him. Suddenly recalling all the countless late-night conversations you used to share, the same voice that once made you feel safe and loved.

“Why are you calling me, Geto? I thought I made it clear enough that you can call me if it is of utmost importance.” You tried to hide the slight wavering in your voice.

In the quiet of the night, in the darkest corner of your mind, a fortress stood tall and imposing. These walls, built brick by brick over the past months, were a testament to your determination to never get hurt like you got hurt that day. They were a shield, protecting you from the feelings you still felt for him.

But even the strongest of walls are not impervious to the relentless assault of emotions. At first, it was a subtle erosion, like the gentle caress of a soft breeze against the stone. That happened when you laid eyes on him the moment you entered the nightclub. You could sense the cracks forming but you chose to ignore them, convinced that your fortress was invincible.

When he offered you a drink, that’s when the intensity of your emotions grew. It was as if a dam had burst.

The silence of the night enhanced the silence you got as a response. However, it didn’t last long.

“This is of utmost importance. I miss you, baby.”

And now you stand, watching helplessly as the walls that had once offered you solace now lay in ruins at your feet. It was a cruel sight, like witnessing the dismantling of a part of yourself that you had come to rely on.

When he answers, his voice immediately brings a flood of feelings rushing back. It’s familiar, yet distant, like a song you used to adore but haven’t heard in years. The warmth in his tone is still there, and it tugs at your heartstrings that are holding on for dear life. Beneath the cold surface and walls you’ve built in the last few months, there is a yearning, a longing to bridge the gap that has been created.

“Yeah, sure. Goodni-”

“Wait! Talk to me. I need your voice right now.” You swear you could hear his voice hitch. “That dress you wore, doll, got my mind spinning. I’ve been missing you, so, so much. Fuck. I need you right now, babe.” What followed was the sound of shuffling.

“Are you insane?!” You whisper-shouted not wanting to wake up your neighbors. You couldn’t believe your ears right now. The ex that left you a sobbing mess and made you frequent your therapist is calling right now, at 2 in the morning with his dick in his hand. But why was excitement bubbling in you? “We left things to protect my mental health but you'll call me when you're bored and you're playing with yourself. If you just called me to get off to my voice, I’m hanging up.”

Geto groaned. “Don’t get worked up. Come on, sweets, just like we used to do. Show me your pretty face on camera. I know you want to.”

But as the dust from your walls settled, you began to realize that the crumbling of them was not a defeat; it was a transformation.

In the midst of the emotional chaos, you found a newfound sense of freedom. It allowed you to connect to your true self. The passage of time had done its best to bury the memories of him deep within the recesses of your heart. You had convinced yourself that you had moved on, that the love you once shared was a relic of the past.

After some thinking, deciding that the alcohol you drank made you accept his dumb offer, you both turn on your camera. You tried your best to look annoyed and that you were unwilling to do this, but the excitement burning in your core was so bothersome.

The screen showed Geto in his bed, a small light illuminating his face. Hair was a mess, going in different directions on his pillow. He looked so angelic this way, what gave him away from pureness was the dilated pupils. His gaze was intense, alluring, and almost hypnotic.

God this is such a bad idea.

“That’s it, baby.” He praised as he readjusted himself, back now resting on the headboard of his bed. The shorter strands of his hair fell to his face, sticking to his forehead thanks to the sweat he built up. “You look gorgeous, angel. God, I miss you so fucking bad. Let me take a look at what you are wearing, show me that pretty body of yours.”

Your heart could come out of your chest any second now. Panning your camera at the cute pair of summer pajamas you were wearing, you decide it’s time to play along. Nimble fingers start working on the buttons of the pajama, taking the top off swiftly and giving your ex-boyfriend a clear view of your tits.

A loud groan escaped Geto, as he slowly started pulling down his underwear and getting a firmer grip on his cock. “Now you are getting the hang of it. What a tease. I wish I was there playing with your tits, you always loved that.”

“Well, you could have had all of this if you didn’t act like a complete asshole. Now it is off-limits. If you want to see more of me, show me how desperate you are, beg me.”

On the other side of the phone, Geto stopped his hand motions. Your words brought him so close that he almost came prematurely. “Someone is feisty tonight. Guess you’ve been messing with that prick for quite some time since I’ve been gone. Maybe I should come over and fuck some sense into that pretty head of yours. Make sure you know who you belong to.”

You knew he was speaking about Gojo. The little stunt you pulled earlier for sure had him riled up. Let’s have some fun with this.

“You should be glad I’m on the phone with you right now. I could’ve been getting fucked by him. Lady luck is on your side tonight.”

Geto couldn’t believe what was spewing out of your mouth right now. When you were together, during your intimate times you were always so quiet, so submissive. He made a mental note that he was really liking this new you.

“Watch your words, pretty lady. We both know only I can fuck you like you need to get fucked. Come on now, tell me, did you miss me, darling?”

“No, I did not.”

“You are ruining the mood, play along.”

“Ugh. Okay.” You were contemplating how to continue when the brightest idea popped. “Show me your body, Geto. I think it is only fair.”

He let out a small laugh before setting down his phone and you were looking at his ceiling. After shuffling around he picked it up and you were now face to face with his bare torso. You will be called a huge liar if you don’t admit that your ex-boyfriend was undeniably the hottest guy you would probably date. When you used to live together, you could admire his great physique every day. Ogling him every time he came out of the shower, steam, and water droplets accentuating the hours he spent perfecting his body. His broad shoulders would make you feel so small when he was above-

“You are staring.”

Getting caught off guard made you avert your gaze momentarily, but then you decided that maybe past-you would be shy, but not the present. As you turn your face towards the phone, a smirk forms on your face.

“Go lower.”

He was finding this very amusing, a smirk present on his face too, so slowly he lowered his camera so that his hard cock was in the view too. A firm hand was wrapped around it as he did slow and sensual up-and-down movements. Tip red and ready to burst any second.

“Take everything off, darling. I think it is only fair.” He mocked your previous statement as a way to rile you up.

The burning sensation in your core was getting really bothersome, so a bit of relief came when the cold air of your room came in contact with your clit. Your fingers dipped lower, gathering some of the slick that has gathered, the rest coating your panties, forming a wet patch. All of your movements were closely followed by Geto’s dark eyes, as you gave him a clear view of everything.

On the other side, you could hear your ex-boyfriend moan quietly.

“God, look how wet she is. She misses me. Your cunt doesn’t lie like you. Shit. Start putting your fingers inside, honey.”

You listened to his order and obeyed. Slowly inserting two fingers and pumping them in and out. The busy days at the office had you neglecting your needs, so after a few pumps you were already feeling your cheeks start to burn, a clear sign of your arousal. As you continued the motions, your moans got louder and louder, not caring about your next-door neighbors.

Geto was drowning in the sweet moans he was listening to, he could just cum from looking at you through the screen.

Holding the phone in one hand turned out to be a chore so you leaned it on your headboard, moving your body so you were back in view, as you went back to your previous demonstrations.

“Ugh Y/N, you look gorgeous, darling. Doing so good for me. Start playing with your tits, babe.”

The dominant side you showed previously was now gone and you were back to your old ways as you started palming your breast. You didn’t dare to quicken your pace, relishing in the encouraging words and praise you got from Geto who on the other hand was trying his best not to finish.

“Does that feel good, dove? I bet you are missing my fingers, huh? You can’t reach like I do.”

He was absolutely correct. Your fingers couldn’t do a better job than he did, and the soft touch on your breast wasn’t giving you enough pleasure like he used to. Growing more impatient you removed the hand from your nipple as you lowered it towards your clit. The slow circles on your clit increased the knot in your tummy. Moaning louder than before, you opened your eyes and saw Geto, sweat accenting the muscles on his hands and torso as he was moving his hand at the same pace as you.

“I’m close, Suguru.” You said between moans, and you swear you saw a glimpse of mischief in his eyes as soon as you said those words.

And just before you saw white in your eyes, his velvety voice was heard from the speaker. "You can come when I tell you to." Frustration and desperation are present in your moans as you slow down your pace.

"Tell me that you miss me and that you admit I can do everything to you better than he does. C'mon, say it." His commanding voice was music to your ears. If you knew you would be yelling those words tonight, you would have never picked up the phone.

"Just continue like that, you are doing amazing. Fuck, shi- say my name, babe.”

"Suguru, god, I'm all yours, no one fucks me better than you do, baby. Please, can I come? Please, please, ugh."

As soon as Suguru gave you permission, the coil in your stomach began unwinding as your fingers brought you to the first orgasm of the night. White enveloping your vision, you moaned loudly as your fingers started to slow down, riding out your orgasm.

Shortly after, you heard Geto curse and moan, hand movements quickening and his lower abdomen started to twitch. “Fu-Shit, I love you, Y/N, I love you so much.” His gaze never left yours as he came all over his abdomen, chest moving as he tried to steady his breathing.

Both of you stayed silent for a while, none had the courage to speak up. As you started to get up towards your shower, you heard Geto end the call.

Then you got a notification on your phone.

“im omw, wait for me on the bed”

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lucero-is-here · 10 months

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Drives over wearing Arthur Wright’s suit

Hello ladies, gentlemen and folks! It’s headcanon hour. And we have Eleanor Halsted.

Requested by

Totally did not struggle to spell her name. Now let’s do it.

- she used to be really good friends with Arthur. He was basically her junior- i can just picture her messing with his hair every time he did something just a bit amazing, and it pissed Arthur off every time cause he actually takes time doing his hair hah-

- when she got arrested, Arthur visited her a couple times. He asked her why she did what she did and she just laughed at him.

- she’s a pure evil antagonist. Not broken, but pure evil.

- aroace. She isn’t interested in any kind of relationships. She thinks if relationships as a distraction from her work.

- high heels or boots. Usually wearing high heels, but boots are worn occasionally. Especially in times when she needs to walk or run more.

- she is able to run in heels. She can run really fast, but her feet hurt after a while.

- oh she hates skirts. Especially those that wrap around your legs tightly. To her, skirts and dresses already restrict movement a lot, skirts that seem to bound your legs together are even worst. She thinks they are extremely impractical, and absolutely despises them.

- she likes sweet things. She thinks candy is amazing, and it helps her stay awake during work.

- she drinks a lot of coffee. A lot of coffee.

- after a really hard day of work, she likes to sit down on the sofa and drink some alcohol to relax. Yeah.

- really really smart. She is book smart. And she is smart in every way possible.

- she’s really good at geography. She knows a lot about geography, and is really good at the subject in general.

- she has a pet dog. A great pyrenees. She may or may not have trained it and brings it to work and legs it maul anyone who is a threat.

- she collects snow globes.

- she is almost fearless- she can walk to her room after turning off all the lights, kills any bugs she sees in five seconds, and also picked up a snake which may or may not have been poisonous. Though she’s scared of one thing. She’s scared of hamsters. Why? She doesn’t know. She’s just terrified of them.

- if she’s sleeping, and sun shines into her room, she starts screaming like a vampire saying: IT BURNS- IT BURNS-

- she can be so scary- Arthur may or may not be just a bit scared of her-

- She is strong- really strong. She can carry a couple of firearms with her with no difficulty, and can lift up people if she really wanted to.

- she can assemble and disassemble a sniper gun in 5 minutes somehow.

- she really likes chess. She thinks it’s a good way to practice decision making and loves how high stakes feel sometimes.

- she takes so many risks sometimes it’s literally horrifying- but she loves the thrill that comes with risks

Anyways that’s it. If I think of more a part 2 will be posted ahah. Anyways gotta drive.

gets back into the car and drives off

#criminal case #headcanons #eleanor halsted

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randomfoggytiger · 1 year

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X-Files Collector’s Edition: Amor Fati(gue) AUs

Part 2 is here, baby! Woo! Amor Fati canon-divergent-and-AUs time!

Loose chronological timeline below~.

Canon-Divergent Fics

Maria Nicole’s Off Center

“Once, she had fallen before him, her lips forming the word, "you," as she fell, contempt in her closing eyes. Before her gaze, he had felt unnerved and guilty, although he had not betrayed her, although what he had done, he had done to save her.

The guilt was worse now that he had betrayed her, betrayed both of them, and her eyes did not close this time as she accused both him and Diana Fowley of being liars.””

Skinner is forced to work against Scully as she prepares to leave for Africa. His guilt is intensified when Scully catches on and withdraws all trust.

@greekowl87′s (Ao3)

Kisses Are Meant to Be Distracting

““Scully disappeared back out to his apartment. She could hear the shower turning on and could swear she could also hear him ‘Walking on Sunshine’ off-key. She bit her lip and smiled to herself. Despite her initial confusion on where to turn, she recalled Mulder’s words…his touchstone, his constant…and for the first time in their seven years, she had never been happier. Granted his situation warranted that they stay slow with their new development, but it wouldn’t be their thing if it didn’t go slow.””

Mulder’s recovery is sweetened by his budding relationship with Scully.

Voices in the Dark

““Mulder?”

“You hated me. You said I gave up. You left me. I deserved it too.”

“Mulder…” Like a ghost, she maneuvered herself so they were looking at each other face to face. “Look at me.” Their eyes met. In the nightlight from the street lights below, Scully could see Mulder’s own tears. “Oh, Mulder.””

Mulder finally opens up about his vision; and Scully immediately dispels any loathsome thoughts he has about himself by affirming her loyalty and love.

@bluesamutra/bluesamutra’s una via

““Go outside,” she says nudging Dana’s hip, “Bill has been on his best behavior but I’m sure Fox came to spend time with you, not your brothers.”

Dana presses a kiss on her forehead and rises from the arm of the chair.

“Thanks Mom,” she murmurs.

Moments later, Margaret watches as Dana picks her way carefully across the lawn in those perilously high-heels she insists on wearing, her black overcoat wrapped tightly around her. The sky is darkening rapidly, the far end of the garden where the lawn gives way to trees and the Patapsco River beyond, almost completely obscured. Snow has begun to fall, swirling around and glowing in the glare from the coach lanterns.””

Post recovery, Mulder joins Scully for Christmas and gets involved in family bonding, saving Matthew from dramatically drowning late at night, winning Bill’s respect, and soaking up acceptance and love.

AUs

Diana Alexander’s Kaleidoscope Visions

““Not really, Scully, if you think about it. If the mind has received so much information that it's incapable of receiving more, it does one of two things. It either represses it or takes it into an arena that it can handle. Apparently this is the arena where our minds agreed that we could handle.””

Scully is still in Africa... but somehow can communicate with Mulder via telepathy. He, of course, has a theory.

Shoshana’s

Guardian Angel

““I had been asleep most of the last forty-eight hours, finally knocked out by the barbiturates in my system. They had found no signs of a tumor, just signs of extremely abnormal brain function, as yet unexplained. I am blown away by the grasp Mrs. Scully has of the situation; she is rattling off every detail with an authoritative poise that I have only seen in her daughter's demeanor.

I make no attempt to speak, just nodding my head occasionally to show that I am indeed listening and comprehending every word of her monologue.””

Mulder’s pain disspiates after Scully kicks Diana out and leaves him in the care of her mother and TLG. He blearily waits for her return from Africa.

Safe Haven

““I tell the guys to just wait a couple minutes while I grab a wheelchair and enter Mulder's private room, a room I had fought hard to get him, along with a treatment plan that included fewer drugs and fewer unwelcome visitors. Banning Diana Fowley may have been seen as the actions of a jealous woman, but I was still not convinced that she hadn't exacerbated his condition by slipping some drug into his bloodstream. I could see right through her concern. I knew she still worked for the Consortium, whatever still remained of it.””

Scully returns from Africa, victorious-- hailed by TLG, and sneak-hugged by an incredibly happy Mulder.

Gwendolyn’s Temporary Shelter

““It isn't proximity, then? You're hearing thoughts from people further away?" It was a new twist she hadn't even considered before.

"Not exactly." He wore the enigmatic expression he donned when he was holding some new mystery close to him, unwilling to share.

"Then what?" she asked.

"I don't think we're necessarily the only ones here."

Scully springs Mulder from the hospital to hide out in Africa, hoping to secure his safety while she digs for answers. In his isolation, Mulder uncovers the journal of a woman whose fate was also tied up in the mystery of the buried spaceship.

Amatia’s Midnight on the Firing Line

““I've seen this before, in Russia. Look, if you don't believe me, fine. But Agent Mulder must, because that's my name on your hand."

Skinner sighed, and nodded. Krycek filled the syringe, and injected it into the IV bag of saline. He handed Skinner the other bottle. "You've got to do it again when they replace the IV."

Skinner slid the bottle into his pocket, and looked down at Mulder, who was becoming more aware. "Agent Mulder?" he asked.

"Krycek's gotta get out of here," Mulder said, his voice raspy. "Diana's coming."

Mulder breaks out of the hospital with the help of Skinner and Krycek; but unfortunately, no one is ever truly “free” with the Syndicate right behind.

@atths--twice’s (Ao3, Alt. Ao3, FFN)

A Slightly Different Path - Chapter 3 - Constant Love

““After she left, he felt so alone, his mind buzzing. He had more nightmares, not wanting to rely solely on the painkillers to help him sleep. He would call her sobbing, needing to hear her voice, to know she was not dead, her blood running across the floor as he had just dreamt. Or her face blue from choking, or her body only bones and found in a shallow grave.

She took every call, talking to him until he stopped crying, telling him repeatedly that she was there and she was okay.””

Mulder is tortured by nightmares as he slowly recovers; but his reflection through his trauma gives him a beautiful analogy for his (*gasp*) wife Scully.

While recovering, Mulder’s continuous nightmares enable him to fully translate his newfound contentment to his (*gasp*) secret wife Scully. Peace is achieved.

Sarah Segretti’s (Ao3) A Less Certain World (Ao3)

“"No, Mulder. I looked. I know your scars. I saw nothing new. And your blood work in the hospital showed nothing I considered unusual." So I escaped Skinner's fate, then. "What, then?" My voice wobbles. Her eyes are still full. "I'm afraid -" And so am I, because that’s the second time today she’s admitted to an emotion she never admits she has - "I'm afraid the enhanced brain activity and the medications and the tests may have caused -" She stops, licks her lips, takes a breath. Her voice is very small. "Brain damage." Everything goes white and silent for a moment. Was this what it was like for her to hear the word "cancer"? She’s still talking - about having me tested, about finally taking me to a neurologist or two, how she should have done this before but I was in no mental shape - and her words slide past me like drops of rain down a windshield. Nothing sticks except those two words.””

Mulder’s sluggish recovery is shaken when Scully finally confesses that she, TLG, and Skinner performed remote brain surgery via the Biogenesis map, which gave him permanent brain damage. He begins to drown in fear, PTSD, and the implications of aliens blueprinting his genome while Scully scrambles to aid the newly-formed Resistance and reconfigure a cure for Mulder.

Magnifique! This fic isn’t about the bigger plot happening in the background: it’s about Mulder’s trauma in the face of irrevocable change and fear that he will lose his self-identity, too.

fxthisit’s You’re It

““What’s there to talk about?” She got her coat, “I’m not abandoning you, Mulder, if you are worried about that. I don’t know about you, but my priority has always been my work and the X-files.” She started heading out the room before turning around at the doorway, regarding Mulder with a look. “We’re partners, Mulder. I still got your back. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the scene,” she turned around and walked away, leaving Mulder dazed with only the receding sound of her heels....””

Apparently, fate decided not to give Scully a break. Diana’s alive, and hands Mulder a vague “I’m better now” excuse... which he tries to make Scully accept. Instead, she gently withdraws, redraws lines, and continues her work... which almost leads her to her death.

(And while Diana not being dead is a big fat bummer to end this list on, it IS in loose chronological order soooooo... format integrity!)

Enjoy!

#txf #x-files #xf fanfic #fic #Collector's Edition #Amor Fati(gue) ii #AUs #Maria Nicole #greekowl87 #bluesamutra #Diana Alexander #Shoshana #Gwendolyn #Amatia #ATTHS--Twice #Sarah Segretti #fxthisit #mine

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oldfangirl30 · 1 year

Text

I don’t know what to title this. I haven’t written anything in years and have been inspired after watching The Night Agent. I don’t even know where this will go but I wanted to write something and post it to see if people would be interested. It doesn’t involve Rose. At least not right now. Completely different story line. 🤗 also sorry, it’s kind of long. I got carried away. And apologies for any mistakes!

Part 1:

There were very few things I wanted to be doing on a Saturday night. Sitting in an apartment watching a cat clean itself, listening to loud dance music and waiting to leave this hot shoebox apartment I was currently stuck in, was not one of them. After 5 weeks of desk duty I was finally placed with protection duty. Unfortunately it was specifically protecting one of the most difficult clients you could possibly have as an agent.

Emma Wilson.

Her mother was one of the most well known and loved politicians the country has had since that one guy (whom we won’t name) but there were still those who couldn’t be trusted. This girl refused to believe she needed surveillance but as a 28 year old woman with both parents being politicians, it was required. Especially now that her mother was the president.

It was roughly 11:30 and Emma was getting ready to go out with her friends to a club. A club that I personally would try to steer clear from if I were to be a normal civilian and went out on Saturday nights. Between the drugs and location of the club, I did everything I could to steer clear but alas. Emma was known for attending parties and events in places she had no business going but her friends were often persuading her into attending. She was rebellious and stubborn. Kind of fitting considering she was a daughter to parents in the political spotlight.

So, this meant that there would be double the agents and I just so happened to be the one of them going tonight. My partner, Agent Jenkins was helping along with Agent Parker however they don’t know Emma like I do so I have been tasked with watching her every move.

It had been roughly 2 hours since she had started to get ready and her friend, Alicia, was running in and out of the bedroom and the kitchen. Often carrying a bottle of liquor in her hand. I got up from the hard chair I had been sitting in and went to knock on her door to see when we were leaving.

“Ma’am. Can I get an estimated time that we will be leaving here. My guys have been waiting for about 2 hours.”

She opened the door wearing a skimpy black dress and her blonde hair was loosely curled flowing down her tanned shoulders. Her piercing blue eyes gave me a curt stare.

“You don’t have to call me ma’am.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Wilson. It’s just habit I guess.”

“Yeah we’ll break out of it. It makes me feel like an old woman.”

Alicia came to the door, already reeking of tequila. “You know, you’re way too cute to be calling her ma’am like an old lady.”

I couldn’t help but to laugh cause she was clearly drunk. My face flushed slightly and I nervously scratched my neck.

“I think we are almost ready. Hey Peter, what shoes should I wear?”

She had never called me Peter. It felt weird. She was holding up two pairs of heels for me to choose from.

“Whichever ones you will feel comfortable in.”

“Ugh you’re being too practical.” She pulled out some strapped high heels in which she would no doubt be taking off later to hand to me to keep up with.

Approximately 5 weeks ago I was navigating the streets of Istanbul until I tore my shoulder trying to catch a guy I had been working for weeks to locate.

My boss, Erin Akers, pulled me out when she got word of my injury and that our guy had fled.

Alicia yelled from down the hallway pulling me out of my thoughts, “vamos a La club yevala!”

From here on the rest of the night was bound to be interesting.

I knew my assignment would be different coming back but I didn’t know I was going to be like secret service detail for the new first daughter. In a way, I felt off about it. Kind of like ‘why me?’. My boss assured me it would be temporary but I had spent almost a month watching this girls every move in the evening. Some nights she would come in, and wouldn’t acknowledge my existence. Almost like her stress from the day kept her in overdrive. There were other nights she would bring me takeout and go directly to her room. I would hear her bedroom TV blasting and the occasional phone call but I mostly keep to myself. I don’t know what she does for her job, just that she works in healthcare. I could easily find out but figured if I knew everything then, conversations would be boring. That is if we ever have conversation. There were things I was certain of though.

She is very mindful of having a routine. After dinner she feeds her cat, tidies up the apartment (as I try to stay out of the way), gets ready for bed, and at 9:30 on a weeknight she is in bed. It explains why her weekends are so crazy. She keeps her apartment spotless and incredibly warm. There have been nights I have considered completely stripping myself to my underwear but I know that would be highly inappropriate. So it sit in her living room most nights, I Watch her complete her routine (but not in a creepy manner) and make sure she’s protected.

——

“Jenkins. Parker. Let’s go over the plan for the night. I’ll go in with Ms Wilson and have you two follow suit. Two other agents will be located at both the entrance and exit. If anything happens tonight, I will have the two of you give me backup. Try to blend in. Don’t make yourself known. Any questions?”

They both nodded and tapped their ear pieces showing they were set for the night. Emma and Alicia were in a car ahead with myself, Jenkins and Parker following closely behind.

Club Yevala was a new club with a secret location and those that went, primarily went for the easy access to drugs. But I only just learned this. Again, not the place Emma Wilson should be socializing but she’s an adult and can make her own decisions as to where she parties.

It was a club that the FBI has been closely monitoring due to potential drug cartels. I know Emma doesn’t do participate as I have heard her tell her friends she’s strongly against drugs, however she plays along and it’s caused her to be in situations she never should be in.

I was wearing my nicest button up and pants with no tie. Trying to fit in with the crowd wasn’t too hard, I just had to make sure my gun and badge wouldn’t show unexpectedly.

I was sitting at a bar stool sipping on a gin and tonic when Emma came up to me. She was sweating but her hair still looked perfect and her face glowed from the sheen of her sweat . She looked great in all honesty.

“Can you hold my bag for like 2 seconds? I don’t trust these bar counter tops.” Her breath smelt strongly of alcohol. I couldn’t help but to laugh to myself at her comment.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Peter, stop calling me ma’am. It’s fucking weird.”

“Sorry Ms. Wilson—“

“And don’t call me that either. Call me Em, or Emma.” Her eyes grew big and she flung her hand around as if to swat off my words.

I nodded to acknowledge her request. Her small bag was sitting in my lap and she was rummaging through it to find something. Finally she found her lip gloss and told me to hold her phone while she applied it. This is what I meant by difficult. She had a friend that could do these things for her but would often ask me. I couldn’t find it in myself to tell her no. I was just the guy who was supposed to be invisible and watching from a distance. Protecting her.

“You see that guy over there?” She pointed to a man dancing in the middle of the floor who had slicked back hair and was wearing a chain necklace and a button up floral shirt. I nodded.

“I’m going to make out with him tonight.”

I grimaced at how close she was to me when she exhaled her plans. Part of me wanted to interject but I couldn’t. Mainly because I kept looking at the guy she was referring to and also because I kept smelling the drinks she had been hammering on her breath.

She sauntered off leaving me with her bag.

“Emma wait!” She couldn’t hear me over the loudness of the music. I knew she had her phone on her. She always tucked it into her dress. Don’t ask how I know that.

What I mean is, I can easily track her if needed and I’m keeping my eyes on her.

She and Alicia were dancing with two men, one of which Emma reported she was going to make out with. I was sipping on my remaining gin and tonic.

“Everything ok Sutherland?” I heard Jenkins in my ear.

“Yeah, all good. Just a little makeup adjustment.” I assumed he had seen me talking to Emma.

As I was sipping my drink I felt a presence next to me. A female, roughly aged 30 was ordering a drink.

“Can I get a rum and coke? And I’ll get him one of what he’s having.”

It took me a second to register she was talking to me.

“Oh no, I’m fine. Thank you though.” She saw me staring looking at the dance floor. I wasn’t going to take my eyes off Emma for long. I knew to keep my distance.

“Is that your girl or something?”

“Huh? Oh no, uhhh it’s my sister. I’m just keeping an eye on her.” That was a horrible lie.

“Well, I don’t think that’s your sister but I do know one thing. She’s definitely trying to make you jealous.”

“Oh…no I don’t think so. She’s just a little drunk.”

“Take it from a girl who has made her ex jealous many times in this place. She keeps looking at you even though she’s dancing with that guy. I know all the tricks in the book. She said she was going to make out with that guy?I heard her tell you that. Please. Look at him. He’s clearly a scum bag drug dealer.” This girl knew her shit. And based on her comments I knew I needed to change my view on what was going on tonight.

Something inside me began to bubble and I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that it might have actually been jealousy. And this guy. Yeah, he wasn’t getting near her if I had anything to do with it.

Emma was grinding and running her hands through her hair while this guy grabbed her hips and pulled her against him. I couldn’t go running out there and grab her and leave but I knew if I didn’t step in, she’d be drugged and taken to this guys place.

Parts of me grew hot and I don’t think it was the drink. I decided it was time to get out of the club and take her home.

“Jenkins, Parker, I am getting Ms Wilson and we are going home.”

“Everything ok sir?”

“Yeah, I’m just worried about this guy she’s dancing with. Don’t want to risk anything.”

“Copy that. We will meet you out front.”

I walked slowly through the crowd of people to meet Emma and Alicia.

“Emma, it’s time to go.”

“What? No, I’m having too much fun and Alicia isn’t ready to go!”

I let out an exhaustive breath and tried again, this time getting closer to her and wrapping my arm around her waist. The sleazy guy noticed and got closer to us, “we need to get you out of here right now. I’ll explain later.”

She looked me directly in the eyes and I swear I felt her breath catch. “What about Alicia?”

“She can come or get a ride back.”

“Hey man, why don’t you back off her and let us continue having our fun. I’ll make sure she gets home safely.” The guy butted in between us, completely smelling like every alcohol you could think of. He placed his hands on my chest trying to push me away but I’m pretty solid and he was very scrawny.

“Peter, I’m not leaving.”

Another guy stepped in, “hey, why don’t you leave her alone. She doesn’t want to go.”

The situation was getting me heated and I had to think quick. I grabbed my badge and flashed it to the guys, “how about you let me take her or I will report you guys for spiking drinks and have you arrested.”

They both backed off and Emma stormed off the dance floor. I followed behind and moved rather quickly, still holding on to her bag. The ride home was going to be fun.

——

#the night agent #peter sutherland #Peter Sutherland fic

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