#I HAVEN'T EVEN TOUCHED OR LOOKED AT ONE OTHER SHOW FOR OVER A YEAR!

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the fruit of love, chapter two

♥ here you go lovies, it's series time | chapter one ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic tp romance) ♥ word count: 2.8k ♥ notes: reader is known for wearing dresses, reader has a tendency to squeeze her fists which causes her to bleed so it's kinda selfharm but it's not on purpose ♥ tagged here based on comments from first post: @abbyismywife @temptressofthetarrot

When he notices your bent fingers clawing at your palm, he politely puts his hand over yours. His eyes remain forward as if he didn't even move. It takes everything in you not to lean your head against Alastor's shoulder while you walk side by side. Your former position as an overlord operates you more than whatever affection you have. You slip your hand away from him, keeping them at your side, being conscious about not clawing at yourself. This close, with your shoulders nearly touching, you can bask in the moment of publicity.

You last walked through the public many years ago, in the days before you isolated yourself, you and he would walk side by side to the overlord meetings, signing drama and making fun of the annoying people in your lives. You remember how much he used to make you smile by enacting his killings in perfect (and rather specific) motions. He told those stories over breakfast, no matter where the two of you were. 

Hell has changed a lot. The colors are brighter. From your little house in the forest, the red sky was all you could see; there were no blues and purples and pink. Alastor's ears were particularly stiff in this area, primed for a threat. You try to ignore it, not showing any emotion that can spark conversation. You're tired of hearing about the V's. It seems the V's have got hold of Pentagram City; how scary is that? They still reek of impertinence and idiocy.  

Alastor's used to having eyes on him when he's out and about, but today is different. Eyes dart between him and you, some demons grimacing while others speedwalk away. People hear your music over the sound of his static. It's odd, why are your songs so pleasant now? Before, demons would physically push you out of buildings and cover their ears whenever you walked by. The tunes from you either reeked of aggression or grief, equally miserable. 

One would assume that now, Alastor was controlling that little stereo in the center of your chest, which is far from the truth, lest the thought of metaphorically.

There is absolutely no way you would want to know whether the strangers on the street were staring at you in fear or with sadistic pleasure at your happiness.

A part of your brain thinks they're staring at you because of your outfit. You had no plans for going out today and didn't bother to prepare a gown for the walk (certainly not through this terrain). Your little getup is the most casual common folk have seen you. 

Oh, how you've changed.

Again you have to come into the present to stop yourself from clawing, Alastor would be worried, perhaps doing something as idiotic as touching you again, no matter how light. 

You stare at the ground while the the sidewalk becomes more of an ascent until his steps stops and his breathing evens out next to you. He's calm on this side better side of the Pentagram, that's for sure. Before you can look up to meet his eyes, your gaze locks onto a stone path that splits up, both reaching this dazzling red building. Ah, so here it is. 

His smile widens as your songs quiet down, the decrescendo sounding as if one were turning down the volume on a radio. The best part is that he can never tell if you do that intentionally or not. 

He nudges your shoulder before putting a more serious look on his face. 

"Now," he signs. "I could only assume they haven't even seen a Deaf person."

Charlie has. But you don't interrupt.

"You're quite the magnet for nosiness, but I know you can handle it. Won't you?" He ends the sentence by pulling on the skin of your cheek and shaking it as one would a child.

Beneath the pads of his fingers holds a warmth that not even his gloves can cease. The longer the wait, the more you want to turn back. You didn't ask to be here, and this is all because you knew he wasn't going to give up until you at least visited. He was eager, as he always is. You know better than to ignore him when he gets like that. Perhaps that's why he likes you so much.

With no response to him other than a roll of your eyes, you turn your body and continue up the path. The building is looming, way too big, and the exterior is intimidating. 

Alastor watches as you trot along before him, not even turning back. His smile widens. It reminds him of when he'd have to make your lights flash green to alert you he arrived to convince you to join him at the overlord meetings. You'd fear making everybody sad, but the moment you both neared the building, you entered the elevator first and excitedly sat at the table. Carmilla had those slides up, spending her time before meetings, making them easily understandable without verbal explanation. No one in that room felt miserable, and though you convinced yourself it was due to them not having experienced love, you didn't realize it could have been due to Alastor's presence, the way you looked at him with stars in your eyes.

Assertive, that's a word he still uses to describe you. Hesitant but assertive.

It's a cool afternoon; the hill only gets colder the higher it goes. He hardly spends time trudging up this thing. But seeing you and the way you eye the floor in front of you as if you could fall at any second is worth the hike. Hundreds of lights illuminate the terrain, drawing particular attention to the golden door you find yourself in front of. 

You stand still while waiting for his instruction. All he does is put a fist in front of his mouth, which you understand as him clearing his throat, before throwing the door open dramatically. 

His slipping into his little performances will always be so charming. Sooner than later everybody's eyes land on you. Alastor was right; only a few people came forth to stay. 

"Husk," you whisper under your breath, one of the few moments you use your voice, always impulsive and out of shock. Someone else in the room is also in complete shock. 

Charlie points a finger at you, motioning loudly, before rushing over. She waves, not a casual hi but a practiced hello. 

The two words that come from her lips are easy to read.

"It's you!" She says. 

You bow your head, keeping your eyes on you, a small smile forming on your lips. Your hands don't lift to sign. You remain quiet. That snaps her out of her enthusiasm. 

"Oh, right!" But before you can attempt to distinguish anything else, she turns her body away and faces Alastor. Expected.

A few people in here you recognize. Nifty gains your attention by how she circles you quickly, looking you up and down.

"No dress?" She signs. You just shrug, eyebrows twisted up with a more nonchalant smile. Your peripheral spots a tall, lanky figure approaching.

She wiggles her fingers, more to herself than to you. "Weird."

The figure steals your attention by pressing a finger hard into the visible speaker that protrudes from your chest. As if surprised, he immediately backs up, having expected to feel vibrations of music and not your direct heartbeat. 

The longer you stare at him, the more he doubles down, hearing the music transition from major to minor. Angel's eyes start to widen, and his heart sinks as he feels that familiar pit in his stomach.

Savior as he always is, Alastor summons himself and grips Angel's shoulders, leaning in and speaking something you don't hear.

Charlie grabs your hand and pulls you to her. Everything around you is crowded; there's constant movement and many people to try to pay attention to. This is the most people you've seen in over ten years. Mortification lodges itself within you, as sudden as an arrow. Sure, you recognize more than half, but that doesn't offer relief. At least they aren't annoyed with you, not yet, anyway. 

Instead of trying to communicate again, Charlie puts her hand on your shoulder, exaggerating her cheeks as she breathes in and out. You can see the gentleness in her eyes. Submitting to her care is like second nature. Perhaps this place isn't as bad as you thought.

Vaggie stares at you with thought. Her expression softens, but for only a moment before her soldier-like exterior snaps back into place. She knew signs of war efforts, but that was from Heaven. She had no clue what sign language you were fluent in, but it certainly wasn't hers. She wouldn't be able to help you in your situation. Your only hope, she realizes, is Alastor. What a difficult position to be in. 

Vaggie peels her eyes away when Alastor manages to take your full attention. Using the window of opportunity, she grabs Charlie and relays her thoughts.

Alastor's gaze catches on the stereo speaker in your chest. "No fingerprints, that's good."

"Rather rude, wasn't it?"

"Very."

His smile calms to match yours. Angel, out of everybody, is the most put off by how content Alastor gets when he is within close proximity to you. It's as if you're flicking a switch. Even Angel felt a wave of sadness, which he would describe as despicable recollections, the moment he approached you. He watches as you take Alastor's hand, and how the wicked Radio Demon doesn't pull away. This is insanity, he thinks, I need a drink.

Alastor only retracts his hand when beginning to sign. "Now, where should your room be?"

Your cheeks heat. "You really are making me stay, aren't you?"

"Well, you're already here, darling."

He leads you up a beautiful staircase. Everybody steals a glance at the two of you, walking in perfect sync, close together, while your heart radiates jazz. Charlie can't help but jump in happiness.

"Now, my dear, would you like the pleasure of choosing or shall I?"

A tremendously long line of doors greets you. You half-expect a spotlight to snap into existence and illuminate whatever door he wants you to pick. 

You shake your head, putting a hand to your temple while the other signs. "You can choose."

"Delightful! Right across from mine will do just fine."

And once he opens the door now assigned to you, the first thing he does is start to decorate. You don't move a muscle as he summons furniture similar to the one in your home. Your eyes stay on your bed. Having Alastor so close to it makes you smile. He's in your bedroom again. The last time he was anywhere near your chambers was years ago when he had walked you to sleep, tucking you in after hours of you saying you wanted to stay up and continue talking to him. He had promised to visit again before making sure you were safe in bed, touching his staff to your bare sternum, sending comforting vibrations of soft music to your skin. He didn't visit for many moons after that.

If he's making it like home, you'll give it a chance. 

You pause when you notice what he placed above the fireplace. It's a painting of you, one that definitely hadn't existed before, with an elegant dress of red. It is reminiscent of portraits of royalty. He needs to stop being so sweet; it's starting to get overwhelming, but god, the way his eyes watch you to witness your reaction is captivating. It's enough to convince you to stay.

"Maybe I should put it up in my room, too." He signs while rounding a lounge chair he had snapped in. With one last snap, the fireplace lights, blazing the room with the might of a thousand candles. You've never seen a fireplace before.

By the time you look at him again, his jacket is draped across the back of the chair. 

You sit next to him. "This will make it a lot easier for you to come visit, won't it?"

Even without the intention of the jab, his smile still widens in retaliation.

"I like our time alone, such a shame you chose the most inconvenient place."

You laugh, the noise croaky as you realize it was a jab in response.

He shrugs, breaking the eye contact by staring into the fire, resting his cheek against his knuckles and pressing his elbow into the armchair. His free hand continues to sign. "And now you're here."

If you thought to see it, you could notice how his gaze softened, but you were focused on how subdued his hand movements became. This is the Alastor you love to see, one so content by your side, one who trusts you with his life. You're his 'sweet little thing,' his 'cherished other,' his 'best friend,' and yet still his 'sweetheart.'

The longer you stare at him, the more uncovered his sentiments are. With the slight droop of his ears and the lowering of his lids comes the acknowledgment that this isn't a fantasy. You push your foot close to him and gain his attention.

"Then I should apologize."

His ears are erect again, and his head lifts. "For what?"

"Being so far away from you."

As quick-witted as he tends to be, his response came slower than he would have liked. To the average person, it would have looked like he was attempting to interpret English into signs, but to you, he was analyzing your intentions.

You really did hate burdening him with your isolation and your sensitivity. He has always been so lenient with you, and you've never tested his patience as a result. You're not going to push your luck.

"Far away?" Alastor leans back, gaining character again. "A simple stroll through the forest never harmed anybody, my dear. There's no need to worry about silly ol' me."

You close your eyes to hide how they rolled. You hated how he interpreted that, the pouting of his lips through his smile. 

You mimic how he signs, "Inconvenient place."

"Just a jest," he waves his hands dismissively. How eager he is to console your worries, even if it's true or not.

"Always so funny, aren't you?"

"Very much, my dear, it's such a burden."

The most treacherous men smile at the desire-filled state of others, and that's what Alastor is known for. Yet here he sits, lying through his teeth once he realizes his words might have hurt you. He is conditioned to this, isn't he? Realizing the emotional pain he could cause someone he enjoys being around. The soft touches he always tends to give you, the ones you accept without fear, do not belong to someone who is truly treacherous. 

He watches as you bite your lip in thought. "My dear, which do you believe is true?" 

You tilt your head. "I don't think it matters, you came and visited me either way."

"That's good." He leans forward and dips his head. "I'm off to bed."

He stands, grabbing his jacket and not facing you, not watching for a goodbye.

Ending any meeting this way is not exactly rare, but it's always him teleporting rather than walking out. 

Another eye roll. He's such a baby sometimes, so used to withholding affection to the point where even his own tenderness irritates him. One day he'll get over it. 

Husk pulls Charlie aside. Of course with that comes Vaggie, and then Angel who only wants to know what everybody is hanging around the bar for. The group listens to Husk as he talks. He keeps his voice low, speaking fast before his owner hears your name and arrives. But Alastor is still in his room, somber.

Husk has all the time he needs.

Back when you were an overlord, the sight of you made people believe they were in a nightmare. Your music enchanted people, making them cower beneath you, bursting into tears as they recounted the evil people they'd been around, specifically the wrong people they loved. It was the curse that Hell gifted you. Initially, when you first fell into these depths, you cherished your ability, recognizing your unique circumstances. But then the reason you were given the capability became clear: it was a mirror of your living, a constant reminder of the sorrow you were forced to endure.

Regardless, Husk hated being around you. You gave him fear, but that didn't stop him from seeing your effects on those suffering from your grief. Their eyes got bloodshot, and their minds raced to the point where they could hardly form words.

The sadness you provoke dissipates after days of non-contact, but your impression lasts forever.

During his monologue, the sound of your music was still heard in the distance, too faint to recognize and put a tune to the melody but audible enough to send an unease through Husk and his recollection.

When asked why none of them were affected, he just shrugged, putting a bottle to his lips. 

"Must be something in the water."

#x deaf reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alastor x reader

[verosvault]

Me: I wanna make a Multifandom Tumblr account where I just say whatever is on my mind about the fandoms I'm in and all the characters I like and simp over and my thoughts on episodes as I watch them and my thoughts on movies and Kpop songs and Kpop groups!! Yada yada yada! A Tumblr about me, myself and I!

ALSO ME: DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! HELP!!! IT'S ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT!!! AAAA!!!! IT'S BEEN OVER A YEAR AND I'M STILL SO SUPER HYPERFIXATED ON THIS SHOW!!!! AAAA!!! I CAN'T HELP ITTT!!! AAHHHH!!! 😭😭😭😭✋✋✋✋ DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!! DIMENSION20 BRAINROT!!!

#personal #dimension20 #dimension 20 #blog #HYPERFIXATIONS #DIMENSION20 HYPERFIXATION #HELP ME FR #I CAN'T STOP TALKING OR THINKING ABOUT IT #EVERY SECOND I'M THINKING ABOUT IT #AND IT'S SO BAD RN! #I DISCOVERED D20 ON SEPTEMBER 12 2022 AND IT'S FREAKING DECEMBER OF 2023 AND I HAVEN'T BEEN THINKING OR WATCHING ANYTHING ELSE! #NO! CAUSE IT'S ACTUALLY SCARING ME! #I USED TO BE WATCHING SO MUCH TV AT ONCE! #I HAVEN'T EVEN TOUCHED OR LOOKED AT ONE OTHER SHOW FOR OVER A YEAR! #THIS IS ACTUALLY INSANITY! #I- THERE NEEDS TO BE POP CULTURE THERAPY I SWEAR! #IDK WHAT HAPPENED! #DIMENSION20 BROKE ME! 😭✋

[satowooo]

i. imgonnagetyouback

The one and only son of the Gojo clan had fallen quite hard, completely and utterly, to a lowly woman who came from the dirt, and got his heart broken by her. Years had passed, he was still as angry since the day you left, but he only wanted you back.

contents. modern au, gojo satoru x reader, angst, not proofread.

Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back

next chapter

It was pathetic. The sight of Gojo Satoru, a well-respected son of the Gojo clan, was down on his knees right in front of you, begging you to stay, a daughter of a mere servant.

It made him look pitiful and weak, a miserable prince who had his heart shattered by a low class woman like you. But he didn't really give it that much of a thought, ever since he first laid eyes on you. He didn't care what people might've said from the very first time, and he proved it to you a million times as he stubbornly and desperately showed you how much he loves and adores you. So, begging down on his knees is not that much of a deal now, no?

“Stand up, please.”

But you were firm, closing your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. You hated seeing him like this, but you were left with no other choice. Your love for him could risk even the dangers of your life, and you were sacrificing him to save him.

“I do not wish to be with you any longer, Young Master.” You said, uttering his title in a whisper. “What we had was wrong. It was a mistake on my side. And I thought I was in love with you, but it was just a pathetic infatuation and I realised that another man best suits me, and it's not you.”

Your words were nonstop, every single thing that you uttered was shattering his heart into pieces. But Satoru furiously shakes his head, his hands trembling on your lap as his forehead falls on your knees.

“T-that’s not… T-that's not true…”

You remembered everything from that day. Every little detail, every word, every touch, every action, of what had happened stayed forever in your mind. It never fails to shatter you. To make you cry every single time that you thought about him as you lie in the confinements of your small room.

“I have done what you asked for. What else do I need to do–” A whimper escaped your lips as a hand flew over your cheek. Breathing heavily, you felt the sting on your skin as you looked back at the person who had been the cause of your pain.

“Pack your things, and never show your face again.”

Gojo Satoru haunted your dreams and nightmares. He managed his way in your heart, and refused to leave. He was the ghost of your tragic love story, you could only wish that you never should've picked up the pen. It's already been two years since you left, and even until now, your heart only beats for one man and it will always be for Satoru.

So what are you going to do when he comes up at your door, claiming what used to be his?

It all happened so fast that your head can't fathom how you ended back to the place of your nightmares. The Gojo clan's mansion. The place where it all started between the two of you.

Every corner of this place was filled with memories of you and Satoru, all the good and bad. But what you remembered most was the torture, the consequences you had faced for falling in love. You felt like all your scars were slowly tearing apart, opening the wound that was almost healed as you looked back to the man who stood in front of you.

You never should've been back in this place.

“I expect you to work immediately.” Satoru's voice was different. It was laced with authority and demand, not the sweet ones that you remember back when he was yours. “Remember, your family is in the palm of my hands. Try to escape, and you'll face the consequences.”

His eyes looked at you with anger, a pent up emotion that he bottled up all these years. His hands were balled on a fist by his sides, almost trembling, but he wouldn't let you see just how much you still have an effect on him.

Right now, all he feels is anger and hatred for what you did. For leaving him. For running off with another man. For loving him only to break his heart. For letting him hold on to your empty promises.

For those two years, he only loathed you and he's not going to be a forgiving man, he'll make sure you regret. He'll make you beg on his knees, the way he did for you.

“I expect you to be in my office in five.”

Now, you're back to square one. Working as his maid was already bad enough back then, so what's going to happen now that you're back to serve him again?

You can't help but notice how much he changed. Somehow, you can tell that he was still the same, only that he was only mad at you. It was obvious already how he's showing indifference only to you but not to anyone else. His bubbly personality that used to welcome you with warm embraces is now replaced with an angry demeanour of a man who cold-heartedly took you away from your family and took you back to the house where you suffered.

How unfair.

This was not your Satoru.

As soon as Satoru turned around and left you standing, he heaved out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. His heart felt like it was trying to escape from his chest. For the first time since you left, he finally felt his heart beating again.

All throughout those years that you were gone, he relentlessly looked for you. Trying to search your face in unfamiliar places, sometimes getting himself into trouble when he mistakes someone for you. Everyday, he was turning angrier and angrier when you never showed up, while all he needed was proper answers and explanations. He hated all the memory that you had left, and how it tore him to pieces that all of it was just a lie.

He couldn't believe you had the nerve. A woman like you with no name for herself, telling him that a relationship with him was just a mistake as you sought another man. Gojo Satoru was everything anyone could have asked for, so how dare a woman like you? How dare a woman he loved…

Everything comes crashing down into his mind once again. From the first time he saw you and how you've caught his eye. His heart starts to beat frantically, his breath caught into his chest, his tongue tied together. Satoru slumps into his chair as he closes his eyes, letting the memory sink in.

“Who is that woman?” Satoru asked an older servant, seeing your unfamiliar face walking around the garden in a maid uniform as he stared down at you from his window.

“That's [M/L/N]’s daughter. She's here to take her place while her mother is recovering.” The servant answered as she poured him tea.

Satoru watched as you walked quietly, your movements looked calculated and careful. He watched your finger touch a ragged cloth, gracefully cleaning the dirty tables.

From afar, he can see how your skin looked soft and pale. You were a bit thin and looked weak. He can only assume that he could break you with one twist.

Your face didn't have any emotion in it which intrigued him. Even your lips were downturned, like you hated every second of working in his place. You caught his attention in a matter of seconds, a curiosity growing inside him while he watched your every move.

He noticed the way your mood changed when his family's dog, a small golden retriever, came running to you. A smile formed into your face and he swore he could feel all the flowers blooming all around the place. Everything seemed to have lighted up, his heart began to drum in his chest as you kneeled down to the dog, petting and rubbing the cute animal between your hands.

What's so fascinating about you?

He swallowed hard. Satoru felt like a teenage boy realising that he was staring a little too hard. He felt like a stalker for watching you, shivering at his thoughts.

But he wanted to meet you. Something was pulling him to be close to your presence. A magnetic force was drawing him to come near, and it was the very first time that he ever felt like this.

But he'll take his time first. For now, he's going to settle on just watching you from afar, memorising every detail of you, until he is ready.

A knock on the door woke Satoru back to his senses. He straightened up on his seat, erasing the memories out of his head as he coughed. “Come in.”

But how can Satoru completely forget?

You walked inside in your maid uniform, the same dress that you used to wear, and it only took Satoru a matter of seconds for all your pasts to remind him of how much he loved you. He felt a pain in his chest, and for a moment, he wanted to fall back on his knees and beg for you to love him again. But even you had changed.

Satoru was also back to square one. He looks at you, reminded of the first time he had seen your face. The lack of emotion, the frown, the gaze that used to intimidate him, and the wall you had built between the two of you was palpable.

“Take a seat.” Satoru gestured over the chair in front of his table.

He watched you carefully as you stepped inside his office, striding forward with a sense of hurry as you obviously refused to seat. You stood in front of him, an emotion in your eyes that he can't seem to read.

“I have to get back to my family–”

“They are fine.” Satoru immediately cut you off, his voice ringing over your ear. He looked at you with a glare, venom laced in his voice as he says, “You are bound to stay here, as I said so–”

“You can't keep me here!”

Your scream shocked the both of you, but Satoru kept a straight face as he stood up slowly. He chuckled with malice, staring at your helpless state.

“What makes you say that I can't?” He smirked. “I own you now. Every single thing that's yours is also mine, even your family.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, your hands trembling at your side. Your knees felt weak underneath his gaze, burning and crushing your soul.

Everything he said was true. You were in so much debt ever since you left the Gojo mansion, your family almost falling apart if he didn't show up to take you. And now he's claiming every single bit of what's yours, not leaving a single piece behind.

Satoru made it clear when he took you here. He'll pay for everything to save you and your family. Your mother's hospital bill, your father's gambling debts, your brother's education, their food, house, electricity, and all their livings, because you couldn't pay them off by yourself.

So now you're trapped. He's got you wrapped around his fingers.

“You need me, Y/N.” You closed your eyes at his voice, shaking your head in denial. “You can't afford to live without me, and that's the truth.”

It was the truth, Satoru taking her away from her old life.

You were doing just fine when he was gone. But now you don't know anymore.

this is the part 1 of my mini (?) gojo series! i hope you'd like it and anticipate for what's next to come 🥺🫶🏻 [M/L/N] also stand for "mother's last name" in case you didn't knowww ^.^ I also hoped you understood the flashbacks and such.

this is just a prologue of the main story, sooo the real story starts at part 2.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #satorugojo #gojo fluff #gojo angst #satoru angst #satoru jjk #jjk gojo satoru #jujutsu #jujutsu kaien modern au #jjk modern au #jjk fic #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru angst #Spotify

[groguspicklejar]

john price x insecure!reader

as requested by @katz-chow i accidentally posted and then deleted the thing (thankfully, i managed to salvage it with screenshots before i refreshed my computer) before it was finished and it was so long ago, i forgot about it amidst my other fics. i'm sorry :( but anyway y'all need to stop looking into my soul and reading through every single one of my insecurities because it's not funny anymore jk i love these asks so much. warnings: +18 smut, oral (f), p in v, body image issues, soft!price, consent king.

it's a whole set of problems that Price didn't anticipate to encounter in one night. he's been patient in this new relationship. kept his distance and his hands mostly where you felt okay enough to feel them on you (your hands, arms, face, sometimes your knee).

he noticed how you didn't like wearing skin-tight clothing. how you kept to baggy hoodies, t-shirts and flowy dresses, rather than garments that could show off your figure. and he knows you're pretty under all those clothes. he feels it every time he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close to kiss you.

but your aversion to wearing tight things made him aware of what you were dealing with in your head. it became clear to him when he catches you every so often, pulling down a shirt that was a size too small when you went shopping or how you avoided the swimwear section altogether.

he knew you were dealing with body image issues and he suspected a hostile upbringing or something worse and that was enough for him to keep his desires tame because he didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable and scare you off.

he didn't mind what you considered to be flaws. plush thighs, a pudge on your stomach, stretch marks too (he's never seen them due to the fact that you're covered up most of the time, but he bets you have them). none of it were flaws to him.

even after nearly a year, when you finally felt ready to have sex with him, he could still see the uncertainty in your eyes and the tremors in your hands when you pawed at his shirt.

so he held your hands and kissed them, rubbing your knuckles in an attempt to soothe your nerves. "i don't want you doing this because you feel that you have to."

it's been so long. eleven months since you and him became an item. it took even longer than that when he was courting you, but he didn't mind the wait. he just wanted you, no matter how long it took.

he could wait a little longer. and don't get me wrong, he'd love to show you how much he loves you, but he doesn't want it coming at a severe cost. he doesn't want you thinking you have to let him fuck you to keep him around, that's not—

his grip tightens. the thought doesn't sit right with him.

"no, i—i want to. i just..." don't want to repulse him.

it's an innate fear you've developed over the years after your first boyfriend. one that has restricted you from putting yourself out there. one that has gotten you into a ten month relationship with John without having sex.

and it's not like you haven't thought about it either. you have. more often than he realizes. but you don't think he might enjoy it because of how you might sound or look or because of some other factor that you can't think of at the moment.

you don't want him to leave you because he realizes that you're not what he's expected. or what he wants. you've lost too many partners because of that.

"oh, darling..." he cups your cheeks. "nothing you could do can ever make me think any less of you."

the sincerity in his voice touches something broken in you that you've been overly aware of. something you previously thought to be unreachable. it's an ache that has since festered and branched out like the weeds of ivy on a crumbling temple.

but you still didn't seem to think so.

so when you reluctantly agreed to go for it, he took his time. he made sure to check in and pay extra attention to you and how you reacted to his touch. making sure to be slow when he tugs your pants down your legs, taking your panties with them.

"we can stop at anytime, alright?" he tells you. "don't be afraid to let me know."

"okay..." you nodded, nervous eyes fixed on his every move.

watching him off his watch and roll up the sleeves of his button-down shirt was excruciatingly erotic.

"spread your legs for me, love." you reluctantly obey his gentle command and hold your breath when he hikes your dress up until it bunches around your hips. "oh, aren't you a pretty little cunt..."

the weight of his heated gaze makes your heart race for all the wrong reasons. your startled squeak takes him by surprise when he suddenly kneels between your legs, his hands pulling at your shirt. you were quick to stop him, shoving the fabric back down in a haste.

"something wrong?" he asks.

and you don't have the words to tell him. you have some inkling of what he's attempting to do. there's a part of you that wants him to but the last time you let a man eat you out, it didn't go so well.

you hate to even remember it, how your first boyfriend's face soured when he tried to do it but backed out at the last second.

"y-you don't have to." you shake your head and try to close your legs.

"i want to." his hands fall on your knees, keeping them open. "been thinking about it since I've met you, love."

"yeah, but..." his gaze drops to your pussy and he licks his lips.

"but?" he presses a gentle kiss inside your thigh. "has no one ever gone down on you?"

"once." heat flushes your cheeks as you look away from his prying eyes. "it was... okay."

that's a lie. it was a disaster.

he hums, eyes narrowing slightly. you think he can tell that you're not being truthful. but he doesn't call you out on it. "let's see if i can do better than okay."

"oh, but that's not—" you start to panic when he's shifting your leg over his shoulder and try to move away but he won't let you. his hands lock on your hips to keep you still. "that's not necessary. we can just skip this part and— and—"

you're cut off by the soft utterance of your name. "do you want me to go down on you?"

silence deafens the room. all you can hear is the blood roaring and pulsing in your ears.

it's not that you don't want him to. you just don't want to go through the embarrassment (again) of watching him change his mind when he realizes that it's not what he wants to do.

"i... i don't know." you confess, shoulders dropping. "i just don't have a very good experience with that."

he's quiet for a moment. then...

"how about..." he starts, hands softly caressing your thighs. "we try it? just for a few minutes. if you don't like it, i'll stop."

"if i do?" you prompted softly.

he smiles. "then you get to enjoy yourself."

not a bad deal. worst case scenario is him stopping before you even ask him to. you don't know if you can handle another heartbreak, but you can walk away with a few more broken pieces of your heart and your pride. you have before.

"okay..." it's soft. a nod and he settles there between your legs as if he'll be there for a while. he softly tells you to lie back and when you do, you feel his hand on your stomach. you try not to flinch or move his hand away, scared that you'll draw attention to your other flaw.

"you might want to hold onto something."

"why—" your inquiry morphs into a sharp gasp. your toes curl when his tongue licks a hot stripe through your folds. he makes a good show of drawing his mouth where you were pulsing and lavished it with his unwavering attention.

oh... that's why.

you don't mean to but your hips arched more into his mouth and it hasn't been more than a few seconds. through a hazy mind, you realize your mistake too late and try to ease away from him, your agonized moan is all that's heard when his hands pull you closer, tasting more of your wet pussy.

your head lolls back, hands grasping the fabric of his shirt, feeling the muscles of his shoulders shift. he kisses your thighs and tells you what a good girl you're being for him. how good you taste, how pretty you are. he makes you feel so good. he makes you forget what the first time you've been in this position was like. he floods your veins with pleasure, washing away the shame that has plagued you for years.

he gazes up at you, smiling when you whine the moment he pauses his ministrations to ask, "want me to stop?"

you shake your head, desperately pulling at his shirt. "no, please don't—"

he pries your legs wider, mouthing kisses over your thighs as you beg him to keep going. so he obliges your request, sealing his mouth over your swollen clit, nipping it with his teeth and sucking it. you bite your lip to hold back from moaning out loud, your fingers digging into the sheets beneath you.

you watched him with intent, only for a few seconds. his beard growing more wet with the passing moments, his tongue flicking your throbbing clit with a hum. your thighs frame his head and you look away, too riled up to keep staring at the sight. he hums gravely into your folds, heat flaming your cheeks when you realize you can't escape the lewd sounds of him licking your wet cunt.

he took his time, circling your throbbing clit with patience you've never known in a man. your thighs trembled under his grip as you got a little too close to the enticing edge, slapping a hand over your mouth when you moaned a little too loudly. the sounds you made felt so dirty, so filthy, surely he's going to be put off off by that.

no. he stops, much to your disappointment, so sure that you were right. but he takes both of your hands and settles back between your legs. "let me hear you, lovie."

your eyes nearly cross when he buries his face between your thighs and resumes devouring your cunt like it was the only thing meant for him. flames lick your spine as the treacherous heat blooms and builds and curls your toes, hips arching into his mouth, making his beard wet as he dips his tongue inside your pussy.

his name falls from your lips like sweet sin. he won't let your hands go when you unconsciously tug on them, trying to muffle your desperate mewls. his only objective is saying his ravenous appetite.

you feel the blood roaring in your ears as you teether on the edge, a monstrous orgasm impending in your veins. his tongue makes heady strokes, driving you higher and higher until you burst into his mouth with a sharp cry. he's lacing your fingers through his and doesn't stop until your trembling ceases and you're boneless against the bed.

only then, only when you're left dazed and panting, does he proceed to pepper kisses all over your quivering pussy, your thighs and stomach. your mind is too muddled to even think of pushing him away.

"such a pretty girl..." he murmurs softly, kneading your breasts. "did so good f'me."

you expect him to be gone in the morning and leave you a text saying something along the lines of "it's not you, it's me" when it's really you.

"morning, love." he smiles as he stirs his cup of coffee. "how'd you sleep?"

he's still there. in your home. in your kitchen. drinking coffee. you hear the sizzle of eggs and see the two plates on the counter, meant for both of you. he's making breakfast... for you...

taking in every detail of this makes the warmth bleed into your chest as you slowly approach him. he opens his arms for you, waiting with a gentle smile.

"good." you reply softly, walking into his embrace. "you're not... going anywhere, are you?"

"no, why?"

"no reason." you smiled and pulled him in for a kiss.

believe it or not, he had you all figured out. whether or not he knew about your toxic first boyfriend, he does everything in his power to make you feel good. even if he has to tie your hands to the bedpost and hike your shirt up to watch your tits bounce while he fucks you hard and fast and tells you how pretty you are. or if he's making you watch yourself with your hands on the mirror while his shaft slowly sinks inside your fluttering cunt.

he'll spend the day worshipping you. lavishing your stomach with soft bites and kisses. touching your breasts, your thighs, calves, and everything else you find undesirable about yourself. washing away any doubt that he loves you just the way you are. and with time, from whatever position he takes you in, you find yourself worrying less and less about what you look like.

because in his eyes, you are perfect.

i am so sorry it took this long. offer a coin to the picklejar banners by @cafekitsune

CoD Masterlist Masterlist

#what's in the picklejar #picklejar asks #john price x reader #john price smut #john price x you #john price x female reader #john price x f!reader #captain price x reader #captain price x female reader #captain price x you #captain price smut #cod smut #john price fluff #john price fanfiction #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fluff #call of duty fic #cod fanfic #cod fic #cod fluff #insecure reader #x female reader #x fem!reader

[arthenaa]

my love mine all mine— mizu x f! reader

synopsis: marriage is nigh for someone your age and with society's expectations of you, how long will you have to keep waiting for him?

content: 18+ nsfw, mdni, angst w comfort, fluff, she/her pronouns for reader, he/she pronouns for mizu, patriarchal views on women, arranged marriage, jealousy, use of sex toys, idiots in love

a/n: part 2 of nocturne (interlude)!! this is for that anon who was on their finals week (ur req got deleted i h8 tumblr) and to those who requested for a part 2 !!! a reward for your hard work

Your relationship with Mizu was ... interesting.

After what happened that day, your relationship progressed into a deeper sense of connection. He was attracted to you as much as you were attracted to him. A fact that made your fingers tingle with anticipation every time he came down to your village under the guise of getting more medicine.

Your father had no complaints as business is business and provided him with what he needed, although you could see the occassional side eyes that your father gives him every time he stays longer than he was supposed to be. It was a comical sight indeed.

Mizu helped you out as much as he could—whether it be mundane house chores or taxing ones that require hard labor or a change of locations, he was down to accompany you in any way.

While yes, his efforts of providing you aid sent a surge of butterflies down your stomach, what ultimately led you to hammering a nail in the coffin was the subtle touches that he gave you.

You knew he knew and he knew that he was being smug about it. While it didn't show on his face, his eyes told it all. Whether it be passing by and gently placing a hand on the small of your back to excuse himself out of your way as if there wasn't a 2-meter space to your right or the brushing of fingers when he lent you something or if he's being bold enough, especially when your father's not looking, outright pretending that there was a fabric stuck on your hairpin and so he leans in close to you only to place a kiss on your cheek—he always has to have some sort of skinship with you during the day. It often left you struggling for words or having a flushed face.

"Dear," Your father furrows his eyebrows as he eyes your flushed cheeks. You tense in his gaze as he glances at Mizu who appears calm as he takes a sip of his drink. The blue-eyed samurai had done it again—saw an opening and took it like he was meant for it. He fooled you into thinking that your hair was out of place and offered to fix it. Your father had stepped out to get the food and you had hoped that he stayed somehow so that you wouldn't have to deal with all this bullcrap. Mizu took the chance to grab your chin and place a kiss on your lips. Your father came back shortly and you haven't relaxed since. "You don't look alright. Do you want me to—?"

"I-It's fine, Dad!" You intercept, hands raised as you shake no. "The soup was just... hot."

You glance at Mizu who looks at you from the side of his eye. He smirks over his cup.

It was safe to say that Mizu was also mischievous by nature. Despite his usual calm and cool demeanor, you didn't expect the man before you to be quite playful when it came to just between the two of you.

You did all these things, said all those things, looked at each other with things unspoken of and you're quite sure that your relationship was susceptible to the one thing you're quite sure would lead to.

Marriage.

A want for some, a necessity for many. You'd think that in your years of living in this town that you'd find a partner suitable for marriage and you did! Just a little bit later than others.

You had expected that... Mizu would propose. After all, what comes after dating but marriage? Your father and mother did that, your aunts, uncles, cousins, hell, even your friends already got married albeit some of them out of their own will.

You dreamed of having a true love marriage. One that you could be yourself and never have to be ashamed of loving someone despite their stature in life. One that you could coexist with and that could never demean your existence as a woman. You knew those things were far fetched from reality but everyone wishes to dream right?

You had tried discreetly asking about it, curious as to why he barely mentions anything but he only casts you an unreadable look on his face then a soft smile.

He kissed the back of your hand with a gentle touch, softness mirroring that of a snowflake's descent.

"... I can't," He says. You're not sure as to why he sounded in pain, like something was troubling him but you knew better than to pry. "Not right now."

So you let it go.

It was times like this that you felt the other half of the relationship. Like there was still a barrier you couldn't decipher between you. Why he often looks secretive with your father at times or why he falls silent at the most random of moments. There was something you didn't know and it often aches you that you couldn't be able to understand him unless you knew the inner workings of his mind.

The first instance that brought up the onslaught of problems that would soon arise was the arrival of a proposal from the south. It came in the form of a letter, writings neatly imprinted on fine parchment—rolled with the delicacy that of a noble.

You could see your father's nervous glance as the messenger read what was sent to him. You could hear bits and pieces of the arrangement, hands wringing each other in anxiety as your eyes trained on your father's back. Mizu had not arrived that day and normally, you would fret over such things but your father casts a glance at you over his shoulder and suddenly everything seems to have changed its course.

"Father," You pant as you gather the ends of your kimono, trying to match the pace of your patriarch as he travels all over the house. He seems to not be at rest from the talk with the messenger—a perpetual stone-cold look plastered on his face. "Father!"

He enters the part of your house you haven't gone to in ages. Not because you despised it but because you were afraid that the spirit that once dwelled in its abode would arise and look at you with those same eyes that once held all the love and memories when you were but a wee girl. You hesitate at the entrance but decide to follow him through.

"Not right now, Y/N," He mumbles, agitated as he crouches over a chest and begins digging through the array of clothes. Your eyebrows furrow.

"What—What did he say?" You stammer as you stand to his left, eyes watching his every move as he frantically rummages through the fabrics. "Father, I have—I need to know."

Your father pauses, defeatedly slumping against the chest as his fingers tap against the wooden surface in thought. Silence ensues between the two of you and suddenly he turns to you with a sympathetic look on his face. Your blood runs cold.

"Lord Shimizu—" He pauses, catching himself stammering as he looked into those eyes that were fruition of shared dreams and a love he hasn't forgotten in ages. "He asked for your hand in marriage."

You stare at him with a shaky gaze, breath going in and out as you tried to process his response.

"Then-Then tell him no," Your eyebrows furrow. Your father falls silent at your words. "Tell him like you've always told the others."

"I can't, Y/N," He whispers, tone shifting into despair. Your shoulders are low as he lowers his head in shame.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't," He emphasizes his words once more, eyes darting up to meet yours. "I have always tried to protect you but I can't this time."

Your face falls in desperation as you kneel down with him. You grab his hands in an attempt to convince him once more.

"Father, please, I can't—I don't even know him!" You plead as your grip on his callous fingers tightens. He looks at you with sadness. "Please Father, I'll do anything, just don't—"

"Y/N," He cuts you off with a stern voice. You fall silent as you wait for his response. "This man is from Kyoto. While the men here fear my stature as a medic, this man has access to professionals far greater than me. He doesn't regard me as someone important and if I dare raise my voice, we might as well be dead."

Your figure tenses at his words. He grabs your arms in an attempt to comfort you. In a last attempt to get him to decline the offer, you say the thoughts that have been at the forefront of your mind.

"I'm in love with Mizu," Your voice comes out in a whisper, eyes wide and tears welling up. He tenses at your confession, eyebrows furrowing at the implications.

"You—"

"Father, I love him." Your voice comes out in a desperate attempt to get him to see you. Your hands raise to touch his arm but he suddenly raises to his feet, taking a few steps back. Your heart speeds up at his reaction.

"Is that why he—?" Your father whispers out in thought. You're not sure if he was angry or disappointed, but you're quite sure that this was a bad thing. His face contorts into a look of anger as he continues to look at you with a hardened gaze. "When was this?"

"You told me you wanted me to have a true love marriage, Father—This is it!" You look up at him with a defiance so strong that it almost gives your father a whiplash of how similar it looked. He falters in his stance but remains rooted to his cause.

"I know but not to—!" He catches himself at the end of his sentence. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. He runs a hand through his face before sighing. "Not like this. Not to him. Not Mizu, Y/N."

Your eyebrows furrow in anger at his words. "You can't dictate what I feel for him."

There's a moment of silence as your father casts you an unreadable look on his face. You thought that your father might approve of Mizu. They after all started at the same steps and eventually grew to the path they were destined for, albeit in different fields. You're not quite sure as to what led to this defiance against your choice for marriage but it already has you intruiged.

"The messenger talks of praises of Lord Shimizu," Your father diverts the conversation. "I also hear that he is a general and part of the Emperor's Kingsguard. He is of noble stature and earned his keep. He is a man fitting of your deserving."

You fall silent at his words before finally rising to your height and dusting off your kimono. You glance at the chest, eyeing the white fabric that pops out of an array of multicolored ones. You turn back to your father.

"You raised me to not be a hypocrite," Your voice is stone cold. Your father flinches at the tone. "I expected you to not be one as well."

With that you left.

The days were grueling.

Presents after presents were sent to your doorstep and while you wish that you could throw them all away, your father accepted them and kept them in the storage, still neatly wrapped for you to open.

Mizu had also arrived less and less over the past couple of days. He usually stays for more than an hour but now he leaves within the 30-minute mark. You felt like your time had been severed into bits and pieces after your fight with your father. You saw them talking, hushed in the receiving area. You expected your father to berate him for influencing his own daughter but their relationship remained civil. In fact, after his talk with your father was what prompted fewer visits and only coming for business.

He also became distant. Little to no skinship—sometimes even none at all. He talks to you in that cold tone of his and even grunts in annoyance when you try to bother him into coming with you to window shop in town.

You thought they were being unfair. That they could freely do things like this beyond your knowledge. Watch you crumble into a pit of despair at the concept of what you believed was the essence of true love. How naïve were you.

The final straw came when Mizu stayed a little bit longer than usual. He was swift with his purchase but remained seated at the tree located just outside your humble abode.

You approached him with soft steps, eyes trained on his head devoid of his kasa and the usual orange tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome.

"Why are you like this?" Your voice cuts through the silence, direct and swift as a breeze passes through you. You see the familiar curl on his forehead, swishing back and forth before settling down.

Mizu does not reply for a few seconds before finally responding. "Like what?"

Your breath shakes at his nonchalance. "Like everything's back from the start."

Mizu pauses before turning his head to look at you standing behind him. There's a long duration of silence between you, eyes only locked with each other as the breeze fills in the void.

"Y/N," Your name escapes his lips like a prayer. You will yourself not to fold. "I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?"

He rises up from his seat on the ground, grabbing his Kasa in the process. He examines the item, eyeing the material woven intricately to form its shape. You could tell that there were a lot of things in his mind. You could only wait until he decided to break down the walls he built up so high.

"I didn't mean it to be this way." He finally looks at you in the eye, those beautiful shades of blue hidden by a tint of orange. He pauses himself before a change of expression is plastered on his face. "I think it's best if we stop here."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

"I said what I said," He mutters in that neutral tone of his, devoid of emotion. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "I... I am on a journey and I have wishes to accomplish. I operate on circumstances that prove to be unlawful. It's best that you don't associate yourself with me. I was too distracted to begin with."

Distracted? Is that what he thought all of this was about? Your hands shake in anger as your eyes darted any sort of giveaway that he might just be joking with you. The world was pinning its blame on your shoulders and now you have to receive the consequences of its actions.

You purse your lips, stopping yourself from bawling then and there. You can't give him the satisfaction of seeing yourself in a mess. You refuse.

You turn around without responding, making hasty steps towards your home before halting once more. You turn to see him putting on his Kasa, eyes in a daze. Upon feeling your stare at him, he turns back towards you. His gaze falters.

"I'm sorry." He says.

You could never will out the words you should've said.

Lord Shimizu came on the 3rd day of the week. He wasn't what you expected him to be.

Naturally, nobles of that standing would appear to be egocentric maniacs who dabbled and flaunted their wealth in various entertainment establishments. They act crass and speak crass as if their authority gives them the pass to be an asshole to everybody.

You thought to yourself, this man could have anybody that he wanted. He was a general, a skilled warrior, and a candidate for marriage to Japan's array of elegant and noble women. Why would he pick a humble medic's daughter all the way from Takayama?

Well, the answer finally came to you in flesh instead.

"L-Lord Shimizu!" Your father stammers over his words as a young man, your age enters the establishment. You take a step back towards the panel of the receiving area, slightly shielding yourself from the onslaught of 3-4 men entering the place. "I didn't expect you to be here."

The man does not respond yet, his eyes wander the interior of the establishment before finally settling on you. You flinch back at the intensity of his stare. Your father notices his attention on you before clearing his throat.

"Y/N?" He calls over, eyes meeting with yours as he beckons you over. You grumble under your breath before making hesitant steps to your father's side. "Ah yes, this is Y/N Gojo. My daughter. Y/N, this is Lord Shimizu Kaito."

Your eyes peer up at him underneath your lashes, trying to take a peek at his face. Shimizu flashes you a soft smile before bowing in greeting.

"Apologies for not having been able to meet before. The Emperor had requested me to attend to several cases in various cities. I hope that you and Y/N can forgive my tardy appearance." His voice is proper and elegant but you could only scoff at his words. Apparently, it was loud enough for him, your father, and the two other guards stationed behind him to hear. Your father elbows your waist.

"Apologies for my daughter," He sheepishly smiles. "She seems to have a... cold."

He eyes you with a strict look on his face which you turn to look away at. Just as you wished for all of this to be over, a wave of a hand catches your attention. You turn to look at Shimizu who softly smiles at you once more.

"I know this proposal is sudden but I hope you can give me a chance." He says, voice and tone genuine. You hesitantly purse your lips at his words. "I'll be staying around this time. I hope I can get to know you."

Lord Shimizu stayed true to his word. The past few days were nothing but him trying to get to know you as an individual. He was nice, accommodating, and even dare say, a proper friend you could talk to.

He helped you out in chores, got you gifts, had tea with you, learned your ways, and walked with you in town. If you were the person you were before, you could've deemed this man the perfect match for you.

While you appreciated his eagerness in wanting to get to know you, you also can't help but be reminded of a certain blue-eyed boy every time he did something remotely similar. He talks of his travels, his blade, his peers, his interests, and you're brought back to the time Mizu let you hold his blade in your palms, brought you trinkets from his previous adventure, talked to you about his annoying apprentice, or that he prefers his soba to have a little bit more soup in ratio to his noodles.

Everything remind you of him.

Mizu had not visited in a while. You tried asking about him to your father if he ever came to get medicine but your father denies every question.

Sometimes you catch glimpses of a familiar Kasa roaming the town streets but is only mistaken by a wandering traveler. You're not too sure how long it would take for you to lose your wits about everything.

Sensing the troubling thoughts that plagued your mind, Shimizu offered for you both to take a stroll in town at night and shop for trinkets that you might find interesting to place in your room. He tried his best to keep you entertained, asking about your interests, making you laugh, all that stuff.

The question that prompted you at the start of his arrival began to urge you to put forth a topic for conversation. You wait for Shimizu to finish his words before finally dropping the question.

"Why me?" You ask, eyes gazing into his as he halts at the question. He blinks a couple of times, not able to process the question.

"What?"

"Why me, my lord?" You repeat, hands clutching your satchel. "I am but a mere servant's daughter. You could have anyone."

He licks his lips eyebrows furrowing. "But you are someone."

You raise your eyebrows, urging for him to continue. The man takes a breath, looking around before finally settling his eyes on you.

"I..." He starts off, words trailing as he gazes into your eyes. He continues. "I came here before. As a child."

Your eyes widen at the revelation.

"People talk of a man named Gojo-sensei who was able to remedy almost all illnesses. I was sickly and my condition was worsening." He responds. The city lanterns glow beautifully behind his figure, laughter of children, men, and women alike provides solace in the void of silence between you. "I remember coming in there and seeing you. Seeing your father then..."

He trailed off like he was remembering something painful.

"I remember a lady," His face softens at the thought. Your eyebrows furrow. "While your father did the aiding, this woman had brought me comfort. I was never really coddled and treated with such gentleness back home. I was an only child—a firstborn son. Being soft and dependent was out of the vocabulary."

You fall silent at his words as he looks down at his hands.

"She... she stayed by my side. Fed me, clothed me, made sure I was okay." He looked up at you. "I saw you sometimes, clinging to the ends of her kimono."

A chilling realization surges through your veins. Your silence prompts him to continue.

"I heard the news that she passed away years ago. I wasn't able to come due to my duties but I am indebted to her." He says. "Then, when I visited a month ago. I saw you—a spitting image."

Your breath shakes at the words. "You proposed to me because I looked like my mother?"

Shimizu looks down in shame, hands wringing in nervousness. "I thought that if I married you, I'd be able to receive that same love again."

You let out a breath of disbelief. While the topic of your mother wasn't something you detested talking about, her memory still was something you were quite hesitant to approach. You remember her sickly figure, her weak smile, the day your father broke. It was as if you threaded lightly along the edges of her carved path, wanting to preserve what was left of her image.

You take a step back, eyes looking at him in disbelief. Shimizu falters in his stance.

"I'm sorry, this isn't going to work." You softly mutter, shaking your head. Just as you take another step back, Shimizu panics and tries to grab your hand.

"Y/N, let me explain I—"

A swift change of air alerts you of a new presence and suddenly you feel deja vu. You turn your head to meet the familiar stance of a man you didn't expect to see again.

"I believe she said no." Mizu's voice is authoritative and deep, hand encasing Shimizu's wrist. The man furrows his eyebrows at Mizu who squints back a glare.

"Who are you?! Your jurisdiction?" Shimizu demands. He tries to pull his wrist away only to be met by a steel force. Mizu scoffs.

"I won't let you go until you promise to stay 10 meters away from her." Mizu threatens. Shimizu sweat drops, eyes glancing down at the hand gripping his wrist to the eyes shielded by tinted glasses. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two, afraid that a fight might brawl out and you're not in the mood to see blood spilled.

Shimizu was also a general and if word comes out that one of the Emperor's trusted military aides got injured by someone lower of his stature, your father will definitely pay for the consequences. You rush towards them and grab Mizu's hand to break them apart.

"Let him go," You say. Mizu turns to you with furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes soften, and you nod softly in reassurance. "Let him go, its okay.

Mizu hesitantly lets the man go and Shimizu stumbles back, holding his wrist. Mizu turns to you in concern, hand grabbing your arm as he examines you. "Are you alright?"

You nod, flustered by his attention. "I'm fine."

Feeling Shimizu's stare on you, you look back at the man to see hurt and a realization spread across his face. Your gaze falters.

He clears his throat and fixes his stance. "Apologies, Y/N. It seems that I have miscalculated my approaches. Forgive me for my behavior."

"It's alright, my lord," You respond. Mizu stands menacingly beside you, eyes trained on his figure. Shimizu glances at him and then at you. He smiles.

"It was nice being your friend," He says. He bows as respect. You curtsy back, albeit shaky. "I'll leave as requested. I wish you luck."

He leaves without turning back. You watch as he gets lost in the crowd, the breeze gently swinging your clothes back and forth. The lanterns dazzle the streets—performing a pretense of joy. You take a breath before finally facing the last of your problems.

Mizu stands there, eyes already looking at you with an unreadable look on his face. Your eyes soften.

"What are you doing here?" You mumble, lacking the energy to even be angry. Mizu shifts in his stance.

"I came back." He answers vaguely.

"For what?"

There a pause of silence before he moves to remove his Kasa. You can see his face clearly now, albeit those beautiful eyes of his still covered by his glasses.

"For you." He says. He gulps as if nervous and your eyes widen at his confession.

"But I thought you said—"

"I was a coward," He says. He heaves a breath. "I have loved before and shown them everything and yet I have ruined them. I was afraid that I might—that I might ruin you with what I am."

You fall silent at his words. You were confused, you had already seen what others claim to be the worst of him—in fact, that was what you loved most about his features. Eyes that seem to hold the waters—a depiction of nature. Just as he is about to continue, cheers erupt from the central town, you flinch as the others begin to gather to watch the amusement happening. Mizu, sensing your uneasiness, pulls you towards a nearby alley—dark and hidden from the public eye. He places you against the wall, eyes watching for passersby that might lurk in while your eyes are trained on his face.

You watch with admiration as his eyebrows furrow in their usual curl, those eyes that squint into a glare, chapped lips, and the glasses that begin to slowly fall down the bridge of his nose. Unable to resist the urge, you give in.

"Coast is—"

Mizu's eyes widen at the feeling of your lips against his. You cup his cheeks, pulling him down as you encase your arms over his neck. Mizu wastes no time in reciprocating the kiss. He kisses back with the same fervor, hand dropping his Kasa in favor of encasing your waist as he pulls you towards his figure. You whine as you feel his tongue intertwine with yours.

After a few pecks and kisses, you both finally pull away. There's a hushed silence of panting as Mizu places his forehead against yours.

"I am not being truthful," Mizu whispers, breath hitting your lips. "But I want to try. With you."

You smile, hands cupping his cheeks as you rub your thumbs across the surface of his skin.

"I want you as you are," You reassure him. "No matter the flaw, no matter what you tell me. I'll be here with you."

Mizu lowers his head and drops it to burrow against your neck. He hugs you close as bells and instruments begin playing. He pulls back softly before facing you with vulnerability.

"I..." He starts off. "I am not what you think I am."

You tilt your head in confusion as you encase his hands in yours. Your thumbs run over the scar that you've bandaged from before.

"I'm not a... a man." Mizu finally reveals. You pause, eyes blinking as you watch his reaction for any sort of context. Mizu purses his lips before pulling his glasses away, tucking in the side of his clothing before reaching up to pull at his top knot. You watch as his hair—no, her hair flows to her shoulders and then suddenly everything makes sense.

Mizu's breath shakes at your silence. "I-I cannot give you what you want—"

She falls silent as you lean forward to take notice of her features. The flush that adorns her cheeks and the eyes that entranced you from the start. A smile bursts from your lips.

"You're just as I dreamed of," You whisper in awe. Your arms make their way to wrap around her neck as you press yourself close to her. Mizu's face flushes at your words.

Your eyes trace the edges of her features, face contorted in a soft expression. There's a moment of silence before you finally continue. "My father wanted me to have a true love marriage. All my life, the idea of falling in love has always been my dream as a child."

Mizu blinks softly at your words, listening to your every thought.

"And now that I have it, I can understand why my father wanted me to do so," You smile, leaning your forehead against hers. "Marry me, Mizu. I just want to be yours."

The blue-eyed girl erupts into a smile, leaning forward and capturing your lips in hers. You reciprocate with the same intensity, fingers burying in her raven locks. Mizu then pulls away.

"I'll always say yes to you."

"Do we really have to do this?"

Mizu eyes your figure seated on the tatami, eyes peering up at her as she stands in front of you. You giggle at her hesitance.

"Of course!" You grin. "Consummation between man and wife is a must tradition after marriage—well in our case, wife and wife."

Mizu rolls her eyes as she sits down in front of you. She props her knee up and places her arm on top of it. She grabs the cup of tea perched on the small table beside her and takes a sip. "Consummation is done with the idea of children, love. I'm sure you're well aware of that."

You pout before an idea arises in your mind. You lean forward, going on your knees as you crawl towards her. Mizu pauses mid-sip as she watches you with careful eyes. You grab her cup, placing it down on the table as she continues to watch your every move. You settle on her lap, the slit of your kimono revealing your thighs. Mizu's breath shakes.

You take her glasses off and place them on the table before finally focusing on her, arms propped on her shoulders. You feel her hands cup your hips as you stare down at her with a smile.

"What?" You taunt. "You don't wanna fuck me?"

Mizu pauses, eyes widening before she lets out a groan and lowers her head to your clavicle. You giggle as she takes a few moments to calm herself down. Finally, pulling away to face you, Mizu looks at you with her blue eyes clouded with lust.

"You are one dangerous lady, know that?" Mizu leans forward. You grin as you rub your nose against hers.

"Mhm," You say. "My wife told me so."

"Ah fuck! Fuck!" You whimper as you grab the sheets behind you, trying to find some sort of stability from the onslaught of ministrations Mizu's giving you. "W-Wait—Mizu-Wai—Ngh!"

You're afraid that the toy one of your close friends gave you as a congratulations gift to your marriage would be too crass for your night with Mizu. You only brought it to tease her after all. You just didn't expect how much she'd be turned on by it.

"Where are you going?" Mizu's voice is deep and taunting as she watches you claw at the sheets, trying to get away from the intense pleasure. She grabs your waist and pulls you back down towards her, folding your legs to your chest. "You wanted this, why are you backing out, hm? You wanted to consummate so here we are."

She watches as the thick girth and length of her strap pushes in and out—coated with your essence. The noises from it are slick and noisy, causing you to flush in embarrassment. God fucking damn.

"So fucking pretty, aren't ya?" Mizu chuckles as she pushes her hips. She lets out a moan, feeling the other end of the dildo pushing deep with her. You whimper as Mizu presses deep, the tip of her cock bumping against that spot of yours. "So so pretty for me, aren't you momma?"

You shiver at the nickname, hands coming down to grab Mizu's lean arms—its muscle flexing as she speeds up her thrusts, making sure that it's the right spot.

"You've been adamant about this all morning. Especially, after the wedding." Mizu growls, slamming her hips against yours. "You want my kids that bad?"

You're too lost in the pleasure, moans, and garbles of her name only coming out of your mouth. Mizu smiles, hair falling down her shoulders and framing her face as she props herself up on top of you.

"If you want it so bad, I'll give it to you," Mizu leans down to bury her face on your neck, sucking a few marks as she begins to speed up her thrusts.

"Oh! Oh!" You whine as the spot inside of you becomes more sensitive with each bump. Mizu pays no mind to your sounds, reveling in the way your nails rake through her back. She smirks against your skin, licking down until she encases your nipple within her mouth. You moan at the feeling, hands reach up to bury itself in her raven locks.

"I'm close! I-I—please!" You plead as her constant torture of your cunt begins to teeter at the edge. Mizu pants heavily as she places a soft kiss behind your ear.

"I am too." Her breath shakes as her hips falter. It doesn't take long before you climax, body arching and shivering from the intensity of the pleasure. Tears begin streaming down your face as you twitch with each thrust she gives you. She smiles placing a soft kiss on your lips. "Good girl."

Mizu follows shortly behind, coming in grunts and low moans before slumping down against you. There's a moment of reprieve before Mizu props herself up once more to take a look at your afterglow.

You smile up at her, hand coming up to brush her hair over her ear. Mizu leans against your touch.

"I love you." You mumble softly. Mizu gazes into your eyes with a love so true that it warms your very being.

"I love you too."

a/n: mwehheheheheeh hope yall enjoyed that <3 not proofread will do it later mwehe

#arthenaa #mizu #the blue eyed samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu smut #Spotify

[jxckchxmpi0n]

BOXER ETHAN HEADCANNONS

This has been on my mind for so long. Shoutout to the people who gave me some ideas 🙌 sorry for being short. I couldn't think of any [plus it's late and I haven't posted anything in a few days]

Mentions of NSFW | m.list

Ethan found an interest in boxing the year before he met you. He didn't mention that much, but when you came over to his dorm, you found his gloves and became obsessed.

He always has bruises on his knuckles.

Sometimes, if he's having a rough day and you haven't heard from him, usually due to arguments with his dad, you'll always find him at the rink.

The first time you visited him, he was fighting with another boxer. You sat at a bench watching him. Seeing him move so quickly was so mesmerizing.

On days he loses his matches, he will come back to his or your apartment so frustrated. You would help him out by making him feel good, but it was never enough.

He would then just become a different person and take his frustration out on you, but still be very sweet about it. "Fuck, baby making me feel so good. Taking me so well, look at you. You like it when I'm this, don't you?"

Everynow and then his walls would slowly have new posters to hide the fact that he punched some holes in them.

When you hang out, he will do his workout sometimes, and afterward, his hair will be sticking to his forehead. He'd be out of breath and sweaty. You never mind that look on him, though.

Once he's done with his workout, he would stand in front of the mirror and flex. Then, he would run to you and flex so you could touch his muscles. He always gets excited when he sees improvement.

"Do you feel that?"

"I do! Wow, look at you!"

One day, he forgot his water bottle at your apartment, so he asked you to bring it by. He was already in the rink, all sweaty and punching at his opponent. After his match, when he saw you, his face would light up.

"There you are, baby," he would then kiss you very passionately, not caring if the other saw.

Sometimes, when you're making food, he will just stand there and fake punch at you, and sometimes he really will punch you but not forceful. It would be the lightest tap ever.

You would ask about boxing all the time, which led him to show you some moves. He couldn't help himself in the end, but seeing you all serious and doing something he loves just turned him on.

After tournaments, you would wait for him to take a shower. The others would be gone by now, so you waited in the lobby. But you noticed a text from him asking you to come to the locker rooms.

He would then convince you to have a quicky. "That's it baby, fuck you feel so good"

Sometimes, when he's bored, he will sit there and just punch at your legs. Not hard or anything, just tap them mainly and make sound affects. "Psh boom pow bam psh"

On bad days, you would have to patch him up. His dad would get into his head, which made him doubt himself in boxing. "I know your dad says shit all the time, and he's wrong every single time. Do what you love! Don't listen to him, even if that means cutting him out of your life. If boxing makes you happy, do it!"

You would have so many first aid kit supplies, mainly for his knuckles, because he would split them so often.

Manz treats you so well!!

He will spoil the shit out of you! When winning matches, he always wins some cash, and more than half always goes to you!

He has this routine before a match, and if he doesn't kiss you, he believes he doesn't have good luck.

If he hadn't gotten a hair cut in a while and his hair was grown out, he'll let you braid his hair before he went to the gym.

#jack champion #ethan landry #scream vi #ethan landry imagine #jack champion x reader #ethan landry x reader #spider avatar #jack champion imagine #ghost face x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut #jack champion is all i think about #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic #avatar spider #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water

[kelstey]

i waited

theodore nott x reader

warnings : none

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

theo kissed your forehead, both you bodies sticky and sweaty from the moments prior. you smiled to yourself as his muscular arms made their way around you.

"i don't think i'll ever get over how beautiful you are," theo ran his fingers through yourhair.

"thank you, theo," you turned your head and kissed his lips.

your happiness was quickly replaced by a sudden wave of what felt like guilt and shame.

the two of you had always been close, sharing kisses, looks, even touching when no oneelse would be looking. that part killed you.

no one knew. not even pansy and luna. given, luna may not be accepted by a large majority of slytherins but you couldn't help but love her, she was amazing and understood you in a way no one else did.

that's how private the two of you had decided- well improvised on. you wanted to show him off. you wanted to kiss him before class, hold hands when sat next to each other, dance in front of everyone, everything.

but he didn't want that. he liked the privacy. but you were never sure if that was really a cover for simply using you.

but you let him.

"i should get going, i'm going out with luna to the three broomsticks," you moved out of theo's arms and started picking up the clothes that were discarded all over the room after theo ripped them off of you.

"tell her i said hi," theo said, another thing that you liked about him. he liked luna. but he was partially stupid as you couldn't tell luna that he said hi, she would ask questions as to why he would even do that.

"i think you forgot we are a secret," you put your tights on.

"fuck, yeah. well- have fun then," theo waved and you hurried out, still attempting to tie your tie.

you felt the tears coming. you couldn't help it. you felt idiotic to allow theo to walk all over you. you promised yourself you would never let a man take you for a fool, but no. here you are, years later, being taken as a fool by a man you were in love with.

obviously he didn't know, he couldn't. it would ruin everything.

the two of you agreed to strictly have just sex. just sex. just stupid fucking amazing sex. he was a natural at it, he knew how to make you cum in minutes. he had you wrapped around his finger.

you typically wouldn't let anyone see or touch you, but theo? he could do anything and you would let him. it also felt like a weird bonding experience.

sex is intimate, of course. it's the closest two souls can get to each other. and you were convinced that the countless amount of times you did it in a day with him made some sort of connection.

you wiped your tears away as you entered the three broomsticks and saw luna sat alone in your usual corner. "luna!"

"you're here!" she exclaimed and got up out of her seat to hug you.

"of course, you know i love our chats here," you smiled and the two of you sat down.

"are you okay?" she asked as she observed the mascara which was evidently smudged under your eyes.

you had to tell her. you had to tell someone. there's no one you would rather tell than her. "luna, please, pinky promise me you won't ever tell a soul."

she nodded, "your secret is safe with me. you know that."

you looked around the place, only noticing two other tables of people who seemed to be in their own little worlds. "okay, me and theo have been hooking up. like friends with benefits style, but i'm in love with him. i cant keep doing this. it hurts, luna. i want to love him and kiss him around our friends but i can't."

luna sat and listened to you ramble on, a few tears shedding in the process. "that's horrible. but you must know, no man, especially one who you aren't even dating, should ever make you feel this way. the right one will make you cry only tears of happiness and pleasure, if you know what i mean."

her comment made you laugh, this was why you loved her. "thanks lu. sorry about that rant, i haven't told anyone and so feel special you're first to hear about this fucked up situation."

"i'm glad you can trust me, but i think i may have an idea," luna sat upright. "how about you stop meeting him so often? maybe start seeing him once a day; then once every few days. if you want to take it a step further you could even start hanging out with another boy more."

"luna you're a fucking genius," you reached over and hugged her.

"you know i always have the best ideas," she giggled.

just then the door opened and luna's eyes focused behind you, as your back was turned to the door.

"who is it?" you asked as you noticed her smile had dropped.

"don't turn around if you don't want to cry," she said and you immediately turned your head 180°.

"no fucking way," your jaw dropped as you saw theo walk in with cho. "is he fucking shitting me right now? luna tell me i'm dreaming. tell me."

"i'm sorry, babe. do you want to go somewhere else?" she asked.

"yes it is best we go. i don't think i'll be able to hold back a fucking fist in both their stupid faces," you both got up.

and as for your amazing luck, they both spotted you and luna. theo called out your name and walked over to you. "hey, what's up?" he asked with a stupid smile on his face as if he didn't know what he was doing.

"hey theo," luna gave a small wave and he smiled at her.

"we were just leaving," you said and took luna's hand and the two of you walked out. you heard theo say something but you were too distracted by the ringing in your ears.

"it's okay, it's okay," luna engulfed you into a very big, very needed hug.

"why would he do that? i literally told him i was going to be here with you?" you cried into her arms.

"he's a boy, they don't think with their brains, only their dicks."

-

it had been a few days since the incident and you still had not spoke to theo. you were going out of your way to ignore him, not caring if it hurt you more than him.

you would spot theo in the halls, once he noticed you, you had already turned around and walked the complete opposite way before he even got a chance to call out your name.

it hurt too much. it didn't help that after those first couple of days, he eventually stopped trying to get your attention. instead he was being all handsy with cho.

it killed you, hardly being able to speak or react. it also hurt that you had to distance yourself from the other slytherins who noticed the lack of your presence.

but it wasn't all too bad, instead of hanging with them you and luna started hanging out more. she would check up on you constantly, making sure to cheer you up to avoid you thinking about him.

she knew you were deeply upset about it. she allowed you to grieve, cry and let all of it out. she herself had never experienced this type of hurt, but she was almost grateful as she saw how badly it impacted you.

aside from not speaking to theo, you kept your head up high. you still went to class, still did your work, still sat at the slytherin table for meals. everyone noticed the tension between the two of you.

no one asked, or at least in front of your face. they decided it was better to keep quiet and try keep things as normal as could be.

amongst those few days of hurting, you started growing closer with mattheo. he was also there for you, he wasn't sure exactly what happened with theo but he knew it was hurting you and so he decided to be there for you.

he also had to admit that it was also due to the fact that he fancied you. you began sitting next to him at meals, class, even sometimes being spotted after classes walking together.

this didn't go unnoticed by theo, of course. he wanted to punch mattheo in his face. mattheo was one of theo's closest friends and to see him get close with you, it also hurt him.

it was a stupid, stupid situation. the two of you pretending to move on while both your feelings grew stronger- though a large majority of it was anger due to the fact you were not communicating.

or at least verbally communicating. whenever you looked up, no matter where you were, his eyes were the first ones to meet yours.

it was ridiculous, really. you couldn't seem to get away from him, he seemed to stalk you as if you were prey. he couldn't get you out of his mind.

-

you looked over at the clock, 2:56am. great. you couldn't seem to sleep for some reason and it was starting to annoy you. you quietly got out of bed, slipping on a random hoodie on the floor and your slippers before leaving your dorm. you knew that after 12am, no teachers or prefects would be on lookout so you didn't have to worry too much about getting caught.

you made your way up to the astronomy tower, your favourite spot to go when you were unable to sleep. you reached into your pj short pockets and retrieved the joint that you rolled earlier.

you got the lighter out and attempted to light it. of course it had to be out of fluid. you were just away to get up when you noticed theo standing behind you.

"you spooky bitch! why the fuck would you stand there like that, holy fuck bro. you better be glad i'm a teenager and not an old woman cause you would've gave me a heart attack," you scolded him as you raised a hand over your heart to relieve yourself of the pure distress he just put you through.

"calm down, darling. here's a lighter," he passed you his stainless steel lighter. the same one you carved both of your initials into. you were surprised he used it.

"you don't get to do that," you looked up at him, feeling anger flowing through your veins. theo looked at you, he seemed confused but also like he knew what was happening.

"you don't get to have cuddle me, kiss me, make love to me, everything a couple would do, and then fucking show up to a place where you knew i was at with another stupid fucking girl! do you know how long i've waited for you? years theo, fucking years! i thought it was best to keep waiting, hoping for the day that you would admit you loved me back, but you didn't. but i still waited, theo, i fucking waited. i would never do this if it was anyone else," you felt tears threatening to spill and a lump in your throat.

theo remained quiet, he looked down at his hands and played with the silver rings which decorated his stupidly pretty hands. you waited for him to say something, anything. but he didn't. once again, but were you surprised.

"have your stupid lighter back. i never should've carved our initials in it thinking we could've been something," you shoved the silver lighter into his hands before walking off.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

#theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott imagine #theo nott #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #fanfic #slytherin boys #slytherin #fictional men #harry potter imagine

[vivwritesfics]

Hey you were looking for a polyfic so here you go!

LanOscar or Lando x Max

(Idk if you write smut but the if you do you can encourparate it into this plot)

Plot: The reader becomes pregnant after a wild night (shall we say) and between the two boys they are convinced that it's their child. But when the baby is born it is one of the drivers from the ship above (I don't mind which one either driver of any ship is fine) and they are proud of it, and the other driver is slightly jealous that it isn't his. But he grows to love the child as the months pass and the reader says how the next child that is put in her is his.

I really don't know if this makes sense upon which I do apologise.

Hope your Well <3

Gonna do norstappen bc I got a landoscar one coming

It was meant to be a threesome, a one night experience, not a throuple. But they worked together, so it was pretty hard to stay away

.

Whether it was lingering gazes and touches, or moments spent too long in each others presence without much explanation.

But this only lasted a few weeks, a month at most, before came the dreaded pregnancy test.

It was bought in a moment of anxiety. Her period was only late by a day and she had no other symptoms of pregnancy, but she was so worried that she ran to the store and bought one that afternoon.

She didn't tell the boys. Why should she when she's definitely not pregnant? But she wasn't definitely not pregnant.

The two lines stared back at her. Fuck, she really was pregnant. Holy fuck she was going to throw up.

As soon as she was done throwing up, she grabbed her phone and sent a picture of the pregnancy test to the groupchat she had with Max and Lando.

They rushed straight over. Thank god they all resided in Monaco. It was just one of the perks of being drivers, she supposed. Well, not that she'd be driving at the minute.

Her thoughts started spiralling down the path of who would be driving the Ferrari alongside Charles Leclerc in her place. She would have loved to see Arthur Leclerc drive alongside his brother, bit Ollie Bearman was an incredibly talented candidate, too.

It was only when Max and Lando knocked on her door that she snapped out of it. They wore grins on their faces as she pulled the door open. "So," Lando began, his boyish smile playing on his lips. "Who's is it?"

She rolled her eyes and let them into her apartment. "Does it matter?" She asked and Max shook his head, but Lando nodded.

Of course he did. There was nothing simple about Lando Norris. "Yeah, because whoever isn't the dad gets the next go, right?"

Her eyes went wide at that suggestion. "Jeez Lando, we haven't even had the first yet," she said as she sat on the sofa beside Max.

He instantly pulled her into his body and kissed the top of her head. "We'll be with you every step of the way," he said and she turned to kiss him properly.

And they were with her every step of the way. They were with her when she told her team principl and they were there when her absence was announced on social media (along with the announcement of the promising young F2 driver that would be her stand in). Of course, the media weren't told why she was missing the races for the year, just that it was medical.

They were there when her bump started to show, there to buy her maternity clothes. They were there for the late night cravings and for the emotional breakdowns over things she later thought to be insignificant.

They were there to set up a room for the baby, decorated with race cars, of course. "Project Hamilton," she had jokes as they painted a track onto the wall.

When the baby was born, they got a paternity test. Just to find out if the baby would be predisposed to any conditions of any kid. The only condition he was predisposed to was being part Dutch.

As soon as the results came that he was Max's son, Lando was pouty as all hell. He didn't want it to affect the way he loved this child, tried so hard not to let it, but he couldn't help it.

Max constantly reminded Lando that he was just his son, he was Lando's son, too. The four of them were one big family, didn't matter who was really the father.

It took some time, and some forced bonding from her and Max, but Lando came to love their son as if they were blood.

But he was still convinced it was his job to knock her up next. He was a man obsessed. As soon as he could he had her on the bed with her ankles in the air.

Max hadn't touched her pussy in weeks. He wasn't allowed to, not unless he wanted to get jumped by Lando.

But, sure enough, another positive pregnancy test sat on the bathroom sink. Lando Norris was a smug little shit, because this one was definitely his.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader smut #norstappen #norstappen imagine #norstappen x reader #ln4 #mv1 #mv33

[amaranthineghost]

I'LL LET YOU GO IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT ( lando norris. )

lando norris x reader

a little over half a year later when the season ended, they haven't found their way back. At least not on purpose, but the universe knows better than them

authors note: I was thinking of making a happy ending, but not everything always ends up that way </3 after this, I'll work on two max imagines and then I'll see what I can do while I'm on spring break

part 1 found here

IT’S BEEN EIGHT MONTHS since she last spoke to him.

two hundred forty-three days since she last saw that sad look on his face in the rear-view mirror as she drove away from the past she half-wished was her future.

five thousand eight hundred thirty-two hours since she last felt his touch, his arms consoling and unwilling to let her go and yet she still left.

three hundred forty-nine thousand, nine hundred and twenty seconds since the peak of his performance at the beginning of the season. now she watched as he tried and failed to be what he once was. maybe not a winner, or a champion, but he’d had her, which was practically equal.

but now he had lost her.

now she watched as the season came to an end. poor performance after poor performance after poor performance where not all races ended in crossing the finish line.

she never stopped watching, yet she could never reach out, and neither would he. he was always going to be ready to accept her back into his life, yet he knew she needed time.

but she didn't know if she could do it again, though at the same time she kept eyeing his life in envy because part of her wished she could live the way he could without being bothered by the media. part of her was jealous he could live his entire life in front of a camera and be so nonchalant about it.

scrolling through his socials, they still followed each other and it caught people's attention. she read through countless tweets, theories and rumors of their relationship still carrying on behind the cameras, and though she partly wished it to be true, she hated that it wasn't. the fans still wished, and she would too.

the random appearances in the paddock had come to an end, unfortunate for the fans who loved whenever she’d show up in support of her boyfriend, turned ex.

because now all she did was stay within the confines of her apartment building, shielded from the possibility of running into lando. she couldn’t handle bumping into him when she still felt as fragile as glass. she felt like she would shatter if she saw him again, no matter how much she wanted him back.

but living in monaco means you're bound to run into someone from his circle of life.

it felt bittersweet because she wanted him back so badly, to have him hold her in his arms and tell her they’d make it work. but it’d never happened, and truthfully, she hoped it never would. because she knew that if she saw him, she wouldn’t go running back into his arms as if making it work again was the easiest option. because really, if she saw him, she would run, not towards him but away, and she dreaded the fact that he would let her.

he’d watch the love of his life run from him rather than to him and be totally fine with it. because he knew that when the time was right, she would find him again, or he would find her, and only then she wouldn’t run from him.

but he feared for the day that he would realize that she was never coming back to him. he feared for the day where he would realize he shouldn't have let her go.

and he hopes for the day, though it may never come, where she does find the right time to come back to him. he prays for the day where he would make the right choice he should've made the first time.

because in the infinite universes that are said to exist, even if she never returns in nearly every one, he hopes to live the one where she would.

but he knows that if there's a universe where she comes back, even after his idiocy of letting her go to begin with, there's also one where this could've been avoided all together. a universe where he didn't have to watch her pack her bags while shuddering with sobs.

a universe where he wouldn't have to go without her for eight months, where his performance improved when she attended grand prixs.

the one he'd rather live with her than without.

it was unsure when they would ever see each other again. they'd gone this long without seeing the other, who's to say they ever would?

it was chilly in the streets of monaco, contrast to the usually warm, sunny climate the area was known for. she wore a thick coat while she walked down the sidewalk, past the seasonal market with nothing more than her phone, wallet and tote bag.

she needed to get out, to think. she couldn't stand being trapped in the box of her apartment surrounded by nothing but reminders of him. not that it was a bad thing.

she couldn't take another second overanalyzing the helmet he had left for her. she knew it was part of his plan to have her back. to make her want more helmets dedicated to her, which he continued to do despite her not being with him. she'd be lying if she said his plan was failing.

the hoodie, probably tied into the same plan, covered in his damn cologne he knew she couldn't get enough of. it had faded over time, becoming replaced with the smell of her instead. she didn't know what to think of it.

she considered purchasing that same cologne again, drowning the fabric in its fragrance. it wouldn't be the same.

she felt like she could breathe easier with the winter air rather than the stale air of her apartment. sure, she could've stepped onto the balcony, but it was always nice to find a way out of her apartment complex.

hands stuffed in her pockets, she wandered around aimlessly at the shops that lined the streets and stalls set up to buy from.

riddled with things that caught her eye, she couldn't help but stop at nearly every stall. it took an incredible amount of self control to not buy everything she wanted. she didn't have lando by her side to buy everything.

this was her life now. she had a job that she could do from home and it paid her rent. it was enough to live off of while she completed her last years of school before she started a career for herself. tiny little trinkets seemed good in the moment, but she knew long-term that it’d eventually hurt her financially, and besides she didn’t have that much space in her apartment.

she didn’t know how much time had passed. everything was a blur as she mindlessly walked on. she hadn’t noticed when she bumped her shoulder into somebody’s chest, and she had immediately begun to apologize.

“i’m so sorry, i wasn’t looking where i was—lando?” she recognized the curly-haired guy in front of her as she stood there frozen.

“hey, long time no see,” he spoke slowly and warily, looking her up and down at the changes of her appearances that occurred over the last eight months.

“uh—what are you doing here?” she questioned, stuttering over her words just slightly as she looked at him tensely.

lando looked around with a brow raised, hands in his pockets while he answered, “uh, i live here?”

she nodded, “right.”

the air was awkward as they stood in a tense silence. people ushered around them, occasionally bumping into them. they hadn’t known what to say to each other because they weren’t expecting this impromptu meeting.

“how’ve you been?” he broke the silence.

she nodded again, “fine, and you? i saw that your season wasn’t too good.”

he grimaced softly at her words, “yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, “just some technical issues.”

“right.”

the silence was back and more deafening than the first time, standing awkwardly looking at each other didn’t help.

again, he was the one to break it, “could i buy you a drink?”

“isn’t it a bit early for alcohol?” she questioned, looking at the brightness of the sky before her gaze settled back down at him with a weird look.

he scoffed, “i mean the coffee shop down the street,” his voice was a half chuckle as he began walking, leaving her to follow.

“well, you’re unpredictable these days,” she fell into step with him as they walked side by side in silence.

it took all of two minutes for them to arrive at the coffee shop lando had mentioned. they could smell the aroma from a ways away, the door left open to let in the cool breeze.

the shop was warm and cozy, most tables were occupied except for a few scattered around. she reached for her wallet to buy herself a coffee, but he quickly shut it down.

“it's my treat,” was all he said before he walked up to the counter with his card in hand to order as she took the two seater by the window, setting her bag down on the ground. she watched the world from where she sat, the people walking by.

groups of friends, pairs that weren’t quite at the stage of being a couple, or the single person walking by every so often. all without crossing paths. it seemed crazy to her how so much could change because of a stranger on the street.

looking back to where lando stood ordering, she wondered what her life would’ve been if they hadn’t met. they wouldn’t have traveled the world, stayed out late on rooftops, or partied in clubs despite her hesitancy. he wouldn’t have dedicated nearly his whole career to her because she was forever a piece of him.

she realized how much she had meant when she saw just how much of her he still kept. he wore shirts with printed pink bows, the one gold bracelet he wore among the silver and fan bracelets given to him by her and he never took it off. the way he styled his hair in the way she taught him, the matching rings they still wore, the references of her personality on his helmet for every race rather than a specific track, her name on his car.

her name on his car.

her name printed in pretty cursive across the top of his steering wheel and the halo for him to see.

he still managed to include her in his life despite her absence because he considered her his lucky charm. having reminders of her anywhere he could would always manage to boost his spirits, but only her presence would boost his performance.

the chair across from her pulled out with an uncomfortable scrape of the legs against the floor. she grimaced slightly, but it quickly disappeared when she refocused on the hand that slid a mug filled with hot coffee to her.

clearly they were going to be here a while, judging from the mug and not a to-go cup. she watched the steam swirl into the air as she softly blew on it while lando sat across from her with his beverage of choice. she also noticed the chocolate-chip cookie in a paper bag he held.

he remembered her love of sweets. she took a sip of her coffee. he remembered her order to the finest detail. he still remembered.

“thanks,” she spoke quietly before taking another small sip of the hot beverage. it slightly burned her tongue and throat as she drank, but she didn’t care to notice.

she was sitting across from lando norris, the one person she had been hoping to avoid this whole time, and now she’s sat with him at a coffee shop they used to frequent when they were dating.

“you’re welcome,” he muttered, his saddened eyes unmoving from her face, watching every expression of hers unfold. “so, how have you been?”

“you’ve already asked that,” she stated simply.

“i mean,” he started, leaning forward with his arms crossed against the table, “how have you really been? i don’t believe for a second that you’ve been fine when i‘m barely holdin’ it together.”

she sighed, taking another sip and grimacing at the burn, “it’s been difficult, but i know it was for the best that we broke up.”

he nodded in response, his fingers circling the rim of his mug as he stared into it.

she spoke up again, saying the words he dreaded to hear, “and i think it should stay that way.”

his shoulders visibly dropped and he bit his cheek before he looked back at her with colorless eyes, “but—” he began when she hastily cut him off.

“i need you to let me go,” her voice cracked as she spoke and tears filled her eyes as she avoided his gaze, “you have to let me let you go, lan.”

“please, don’t make me do this,” he begged, leaning forward again with a look that could make her change her mind in a second.

“please, don’t make this harder than it already is,” she shook her head as the tears began to fall, “in another universe, it might’ve been me and you, maybe the circumstances would've been in our favor, but not in this one.”

“it’s just right person, wrong life.”

“i’ll find you in our next lifetime then,” he promises, his eyes brimming with tears. he tried his best to hold back, for her, “i promise.” he tried to remain strong, for her.

“I know you will.” she said simply, smiling through her tears as she pursed her lips, sniffling as she played with her fingers. “y’know, i'll always be your number one supporter, lan. i'll still cheer for you, just from behind a screen. in that other life, i would come to your races.”

“but even in this one, i'll still celebrate your first win, your first championship. i'll vote you for driver of the day, even if you’re dead last.”

he chuckled sadly at the last part, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smile, “how will i know for sure you didn’t get bored of watching me race?” his hand reached across the table, his tan slightly faded and his rings cold.

she rolled her eyes softly, “you’ll know. i promise.” she laid her hand on his, the last somewhat intimate touch they’ll ever have with each other because after he watched her stand, pocketing the cookie he bought. he watched her through the window as she walked into the crowd as if their paths never met.

he watched with tears in his eyes, silently crying as he watched the love of his other life turn her back on him forever. he let her.

because if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was letting her go.

part of her wanted him to chase after her, wipe her mascara-stained tears just like that regretful day in their old apartment because part of her still wanted him in her life. she wished she could still go back sometimes.

he wished she would just come back. he wanted to experience life with her, he wanted to win with her, be a champion with her.

but he lived in the wrong universe, and he was unsure if he'd ever see her in this life again, in the way he wanted. they would bump shoulders on the street, looking longingly for just a second as they ushered by in a hurry. not looking back, but never forgetting how much they had meant to each other for the time they were together.

how crossing paths, even for what seemed like the shortest time to them, changed the trajectory of their lives forever. they would subconsciously look for qualities of each other in the people they moved onto. telling stories to their kids and grandkids about the other in regretful tones because they wished it was the kids they had together that they could tell the story of their relationship to.

because now they were just strangers, she was just a name he would forever keep on his car, and he was just an old lover turned stranger she would send flowers to after every podium and win until he would retire.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @leclercdream

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

#formula 1 #formula 1 drivers #formula one #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #lando #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris f1 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 x you #ln4 x y/n #ln4 one shot #ln4 angst #lando norris angst #lando norris x you

[simpjaes]

JAKE... SLEEVELESS... IN THE POOL... pls write something i beg u

wc: 952 warnings: public fingering, ex boyfriend jake, he's kind of a dick [he didn't wanna be seen w u previously] [visual stimulation]

Water vs. wet.

You thought they were the same thing. Really, you didn't think anyone would be able to tell the difference while floating around trying not to ogle your ex boyfriend from too long ago.

It's not even that you want to fuck him, it's just that it's...him. Seeing him brings back the memories of all the wild and sleepless nights, hungover mornings, and messy afternoons.

Sure, he's not exactly a green flag, but in the moment he doesn't look so red either. Not with the way his arms flex when he wades around with that stupid snide smile on his face, stealing glances at you just to see if you're looking at him.

The difference between this water and the difference between being wet is that...well. You're wet in more ways than one. Sure, there's cool droplets running down your shoulders, just like the ones dipping and sliding down the lines of Jake's muscles, but there's also the other wet.

You feel it between your legs. Thicker than water, slipping down your folds in these bikini bottoms in an embarrassing reminder of who it is that does this to you, warmer than the water. If anyone were to walk up behind you and cup their hands over your core, they'd know. But no one would do that.

Except, someone definitely would. You stay in the pool as long as Jake does, wading around and pretending you're not dripping. Anyone else in this water would be horrified, surely, but not Jake. Not you.

It was always fun to be messy, dirty, and unashamed of it. Behind closed doors of course.

By the time night begins to take hold and you're still wading around, across the pool from Jake and being caught in the act of staring far too many times in the past hour and half since you've dipped in, he appears to be fed up with gawking.

Fed up with putting on a show. Fed up with pretending he doesn't miss fucking around with you. The pool lights shine from under him as the sun fades, still enough light from above to give him a warm glow. His hair half dry, the ends of his strands dripping, his muscles protruding and smile glistening and wide. You can't just look away, your mind racing in the realization that he's coming up to you. Like so many times before, when it was normal and expected for him to come up to you. It feels familiar when it shouldn't, thrusting you into the mindset of the smart-girl persona you had during that first year of college. Perhaps you haven't grown as much as you thought you had, especially when he's just as bold as he's always been. He touches you before he says anything, wading around you until his chest is to your back and his arms wrap around your waist as if the two of you never broke up in the first place. "You're not very subtle about it." You can hear his smile against your ear when he says it, dropping his head to prop on your shoulder. "You miss me?" You nod to him, all while breathing out a small "no." The feeling of his arms, bigger than before, making you feel the same comfort and intense need to cling to him. "Always were so bad at communicating too." He chuckles against you, pulling you closer against him and intentionally pressing his hips up, lining his length up with your ass. He's wearing shorts, hell, he's wearing a shirt too, goddamn him. But ah, that. That's still the same delicious size. You remember how hard he'd get himself for you, letting you ride him til he's dizzy and drowsy like he had no power to stop you. He was always bold, but never this confident. You remain silent against him, trying to ignore the people all around the pool and wandering in and out of the house. These things are expected at a senior college party, but still, you and Jake never were too crazy out in the open like this. In fact, you and Jake were never even supposed to be seen as an item at all. "Oh, suddenly you're okay with being seen with me?" You bite back at him, your body still betraying you in the way you hold his arms against you like you used to do in bed when he'd cuddle you. "Mhm." He smiles, walking backwards in the water with you in his grasp, up until his back is against the pool wall. "I was still thinking like a high schooler back then, not sure why I ever broke up with you." Ouch, your heart. You'd managed you get over him months ago, still took far too long though. "And you still stare at me like you could punch me in the face." Jake laughs this time, shaking one arm from your grip to trail down, cupping his hand to the seat of your bikini bottoms. "We always fucked instead, remember?" You can only nod at his boastful reminders. All those times where he'd blow you off in the hallways that first year of college. He needed a new image after all, one that you weren't part of. But goddamn, his hands are the only ones that know how to work you, especially when he's gently slipping a finger under your bikini and sliding only slightly. "Always got so wet too, just like this." He laughs almost as if he's mocking you for being so turned on by him. "You still want me?" You shake your head, ultimately trying to pull from him now, but he slips his finger in quickly, moaning against your ear with a tighter grip. "C'mon," He encourages your deep inhale to release in any sort of sound. "I'm letting everyone see now, aren't I?"

#enhypen smut #jake smut #jake sim smut #jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun smut #ask #anon #hardthots

[verstappen-cult]

# WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I WENT TO TOUCH YOU NOW? | CL16

Or. . . 5 times you and Charles reach for the other and are oblivious about it + 1 time you aren’t.

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader.

Content Warnings: Smut, fingering, unprotected sex. Just two oblivious in love. This one is long, so, prepare yourself, go grab a cup of coffee and a snack. I haven’t written smut in a very long time so don’t expect anything fancy and please be nice. Enjoy! xx

You and Charles can’t keep your hands to yourselves. Everyone can see that. Everyone but you two.

Charles is always reaching for you. He’s the first one leaning in to kiss your cheek as a greeting when you see each other, lingering for a couple of seconds with his cheek against yours, feeling your soft skin, with his hand squeezing your waist ever so slightly. When you are out with your friends he’s always trying to sit by your side, waiting for the right moment to put his arm in the back of your chair, fingers brushing your shoulder and keeping up with the conversation as if nothing is happening. Charles tries to be smooth about it, he really tries.

And you are always reaching for Charles. Well, as his Press Officer it’s your job to be by his side. When you need him to pay attention to you as you’re explaining the plan for the day, you make sure to grab him by his biceps, not letting him go until you are finished, and even then you take a couple of seconds to pull away. Every time you pass each other around the paddock, you always find a way to catch his arm, his shoulder or his waist. Even when he’s too busy and late to something and you don’t actually need him for anything, he makes time for you.

But it wasn’t always like that.

There was a time when you would not even dare to think about touching him, too shy and wanting to be professional. It was a little hard when you had to be by his side almost all day, every day. You would try to not look directly at him – impossible to do given that you needed to do your job – but then Charles started to make a few jokes to break the ice and make some conversation, started to ask about your day, he started to care. And, well, the rest is history.

#1

New Year’s isn’t your favorite holiday, so, you spent it at home watching romcoms and went to sleep even before the clock hit midnight. Your friends weren’t happy but you promised to make it up to them. That is why you could not say no when your friends invited you to spend a few days with them on a Ski resort in Italy. Winter break was about to be over, after all. So, you showed up at the train station with all your bags and a little sleep deprived.

“I was about to call the police. I thought you were bailing on us.” Your friend says as a greeting, helping you with your bags. “You look like shit.”

“Oh, thank you, how sweet of you.” You roll your eyes but let her kiss your cheek. “I’ve been a little busy with the new season starting in a couple of weeks.”

“Let’s not talk about work,” You get on the train after her, looking for your seats and the rest of the group. “we actually told the same thing to Charles.”

You’re about to ask her what does she mean by that when you see the brown hair of Charles Leclerc. The next thing you see is his smile, dimples on display.

Since you started working with Charles as Media — then when you were promoted to PR Officer — there has not been a day you two haven't been together or communicating one way or another. So, anyone can say that becoming friends was bound to happen.

You make your way to him without a second thought.

"Hey, Charlie." Charles moves to the side, leaving the spot beside him free for you to sit. Which you immediately do.

"Are you excited?" He asks, turning his whole attention to you.

You have to look away, his green eyes looking at you so intensely that you feel he can see right through you into your soul.

"I've never skied before." You admit, cheeks flushed.

Charles' eyebrows shot up, his eyes flashing with enthusiasm. "Oh, you're gonna have so much fun."

The train starts moving, making you both look outside. You weren't planning on sitting with Charles, but you're not gonna stand up and leave him. Not that you actually want that.

You're about to ask him about the place you're going to spend the next days in when a yawn messes up everything.

Charles smiles softly at you, his hand patting your knee. He leaves it there for one, two, three, four seconds before removing it.

"It's not that far, really. But you could—" He clears his throat, eyes darting around. "I've been told my shoulder is the best spot to take a nap. It’s like very comfortable." Charles has a teasing but shy smile on his face, gaze finally landing on you.

You feel your face burning. You don't even need to look at yourself in a mirror to know how red your face is, probably the same color as his racing suit.

You look between his shoulder and his eyes, pretending to think about it when, in reality, you've made up your mind the second he stopped talking.

"I don't wa—"

Charles shakes his head, moving a little closer until your left side is touching his right one, not a breeze could pass between you.

You sigh, fidgeting with your fingers as you let your head rest on his shoulder. His scent hits you immediately, is calming, warm, earthy. And it reminds you of the cabin in the woods you and your family used to spend winters in when you were a kid. Surrounded by tall, green trees and a still lake.

The last thing you feel before falling asleep is Charles resting his head on top of yours.

*

"I can't do it. No, nope." You say, trying to move away, but the skis don't let you go that far.

"Yes, you can." Charles says from behind, startling you. You weren't expecting him to stay behind with you and your Ski instructor. "Just— let me." He tells the instructor, urging him to move out of the way.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m teaching you the basics,” He explains casually, as if you don’t have a certified instructor waiting a few meters away.

You smile when he positions himself by your side, too busy trying to make you stand correctly to notice how fondly you're looking at him.

"So, you need to bend your knees a little," You don't know if he notices, but his hands finding your waist to help you move just like he wants you to, send a shiver down your body. You can feel his warmth even through the layers of clothes. "Just like that, yes. You're doing great." Can he shut up? If he's going to praise you every time you do something right, you're not going to survive.

You look over your shoulder when you hear your friend's voices. You catch the exact moment they see you two and stop walking to turn around and go back to where they were before.

"Now, lean forward." Charles instructs you and you follow. Trying to regulate your breathing but with Charles so close to you is an impossible task. "Amazing!" You just leaned. It’s not that hard. "I need to— um... excuse me." He whispers, lowering one of his hand to your thigh and spreading your legs a little. When Charles looks up, his cheeks are tinted with a pretty pink color. You know you're blushing too.

Charles keeps on teaching you the basics. You even move a few meters with him by your side, his hands on your waist at all times.

"You're ready." The Monégasque says, smiling. "You are a fast learner, is she not?" From the first time in what feels like a lifetime, he asks the instructor, who is immediately moving closer.

"Of course," The man says, a polite smile directed at you. "Now we can slide down the mountain. And I'm going to be by your side at all times, so, you don’t need to worry."

You nod, excited to start skiing. Finally.

"You can go, Mr. Leclerc." The Italian man says. But Charles doesn’t move, he just keeps on looking at you, hands still on your waist. At this point you feel like they belong there. “Uh, Mr. Leclerc?” He insists. This time Charles looks at him, shaking his head to rearrange his thoughts. “If you want to go, I’ll take care of her.”

“Oh, yes! Sure, yeah.” Charles pulls away, leaving the ghost of his touch behind. “You’re gonna be alright?”

“I’m sure I’ll survive, Charlie.” He makes you chuckle. “I had a pretty good instructor and I have another one ready to catch me if I fall.”

It looks like Charles wants to say something else but chooses not to and, instead, looks at you one final time before sliding down the mountain.

“So, let’s go?” Your instructor positions himself by your side in the same spot Charles was before.

He doesn’t touch you like Charles did. And you don’t feel as safe as you felt with Charles by your side.

#2

It’s Ferrari SF-24 Launch day. Winter's break is over and Charles is back in Maranello.

Charles hasn’t seen you since yesterday evening, after spotting you having dinner with members of the PR team and, without thinking so much about it, walked into the restaurant. Someone invited him and he didn't hesitate to grab a chair and sit by your side.

It was a very pleasant dinner. And Charles didn't let anyone pay for it.

You said your goodbyes after that and you made sure to remind him that he needed to be before 8:00 AM for the launch, and to have time to go over all the details of what Charles needed to do that day.

That’s most definitely the only explanation as to why Charles is getting out of his car at 7:15 in the morning. Not because he wants to see you, of course not. It’s just because he has a lot of things to do. It’s an important day, after all.

“Good morning.” Charles greets some people of the team that are passing by, rushing to get everything ready for the launch in less than an hour.

He’s in a good mood. He just knows it’s going to be a great day. Charles also knows it’s gonna be his year.

"You're early."

Charles turns around at the sound of your voice. He finds you checking the time on your watch, a teasing smile adorning those plump, pink lips of yours.

"You said before eight."

You laugh, walking down the hallway. "Yeah, but not so early." He follows you, trying to catch up with you. "However, I'm glad you decided to show up on time, we have a lot to do."

"I wanna go back to sleep." He complains, pouting like a child.

He makes you laugh, again. Charles thinks your laugh is his favorite sound in the world. Beside the sound of the SF-24.

Charles really likes to make you laugh.

"Wait, are you laughing at me?" He pretends to be offended, and you mimic the sound of his voice, bringing your hand to your chest.

"Me? Never!"

"You sure?" He stops walking, stopping right in front of you. "Because you know what I'm gonna do if you're actually laughing at me?"

You look at him suspiciously, fighting the smile that wants to make its way into your face.

Charles takes a step towards you, making you take a step back.

"Charles, whatever you're thinking—don't."

"What? I'm not doing anything!" He sounds innocent, even raising his hands in surrender. But he's still walking towards you, shortening the distance until he's so close you can count the freckles on his face.

Before you notice what's happening, he's tickling you.

It makes you throw all the things you had on your hands to the floor. You try to pull away and make him stop, but he just keeps going.

Your laugh fills the hallway you're currently in.

But you can't take it anymore, your stomach hurting for laughing so much. It’s also only a matter of time before someone comes to see what's happenig, so, you do the only thing your brain can conjure up to make him stop: hit him. Even if it's just a little push.

You raise your arms, ready to push him and defend yourself. But Charles reflexes are good and so fast, because before you can do anything, he's grabbing your wrists stopping you.

Your laugh dies in your throat.

Charles amusement is clear on his face, eyes shining with mirth.

"You are," You take a deep breath, trying to regulate your rapid breathing. "a very bad man."

He laughs, throwing his head backwards. "I'm just defending my honor, boss."

You shake your head, throwing daggers at him with your eyes. But Charles doesn’t react at all, he just caresses the inside of your wrists with his thumb.

“I promise to behave if you don’t laugh at me again.” He pouts, and your heart does a black flip inside your chest, skipping several beats.

Hesitantly, you reach out to rest a hand on his chest, giving him a little playful push. You’re not sure if you imagine the shiver you feel under your hand or if it really happens.

You chuckle, looking straight into his eyes. “I can’t make that promise.”

Charles lets go of your wrists against his will. He bends over to pick up the things you were carrying, but doesn’t give them back to you.

“If we end up getting scolded, I’m blaming you.”

Charles looks at you for what feels like hours, taking you in. He really thinks he could just watch you all day and he’d find a new freckle on your face, or a glint in your eyes he hadn’t seen before.

He leans in, so, so close, that feels your breath hitch. Charles thinks you’re gonna pull away for a second but you don’t make a move, you just keep looking at him with a indescribable expression.

“You can do whatever you want. I’ll take it.” He says in your ear, kissing your cheek before pulling away.

You stop breathing, all you can do is blink at him while your mind echoes his words.

“Shall we?”

Charles doesn’t wait for you, he resumes his walking anyway. It takes you a long time to snap out of it and follow him.

You can’t even remember what you are supposed to be doing today.

#3

It’s day two of pre-season testing in Bahrain.

You’re in the middle of talking with a reporter about the questions he can ask Charles when you are interrupted by a hand being placed on your lower back. You immediately recognize the perfume.

"Hey, I was looking for you." Charles says, fingers caressing the spot between your shirt and your trousers. His calloused hand drawing patters on your lower back shouldn't make you feel as flustered as you feel. It's not the first time he does it, so why can't you just act normal?

"Hey, Charles." The reporter says, drawing the Monégasque's attention. "Can I ask you just a few questions about second day of testing?" He doesn't need to ask him, you already agreed about it.

Charles look at you, silently asking if it's okay.

"Just testing, okay?" You tell the reporter, who nods in understanding, already moving in front of Charles alongside his camera man.

Charles squeezes your waist before giving two pats on your lower back, so low that he's almost touching your ass. You eyes widen and you take a sharp intake of breath. You really try to play it cool. But you can tell Charles noticed your reaction when you see the smirk on his beautiful, stupid face.

The reporter begins with the first question, Charles' eyes only snapping to him when the man draws his attention.

You don't listen to one single question, which is, you know, an idiotic mistake because being alert of what a reporter's asking is basically your job. But you find yourself looking at Charles' lips more than one time during the six minutes the interview lasts.

You can't do nothing more than to stand there frozen in place.

The reporter thanks Charles, that much you hear, but you still can't seem to snap back to the present. What is Charles doing? He's being extra touchy lately, not that it bothers you, but you can't seem to focus in anything when he has a hand on any part of your body. Then, add that intense gaze that, apparently, has reserved for you only.

Charles is definitely going to be the death of you.

"You seem to have your head in the clouds." Charles' accented voice is what draws you back to reality.

"What?"

What he does next is definitely something you were not expecting, not now, not even in a million years.

Charles cups your chin with his right hand, thumb brushing your bottom lip. If you weren't hyper aware of every little movement, you wouldn't have felt it.

Your gaze drops to his lips and Charles has the nerve to stick his tongue out to lick his lips. They look so wet and inviting, all you need to do is move an inch closer and lean in to—

"See something you like?"

You feel your heartbeat in your ears, so loud you're pretty sure everyone in Bahrain can hear it. Charles waits for your answer as you panic, replaying his words over, and over again for minutes or hours — you don't even know.

You take Charles' hand and guide it away from your face. It takes all the willpower inside of you to let go of his hand and run away from him.

#4

It wasn't a great start of the season. Everyone agrees on that. Even the boy stepping out of the Ferrari, who started the first race of the season in front row and had such a hard time trying to drive and secure a spot on the podium.

You are glad at least one Ferrari got there in the end. But you're not as happy as you'd be if Charles was the one standing there.

Charles takes his helmet and balaclava off, his messy hair standing in every direction while sweat runs down his face. You force yourself to look away.

He makes his way to you, given that you have his cap and rings. Charles really tries to smile at you, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You know how disappointed he is. With himself and his team. Mostly with himself.

“Just a few questions and then you’ll be on your way to the hotel, okay?” Charles just nods, busy putting all his rings and bracelets on.

Charles feels like shit. All he wants to do is go back to the hotel and sleep, he doesn't even want to know what happened or how they can fix it for next week. He wants to sleep.

"Hey," You stand a little closer, not thinking about anything but trying to make him talk, say anything to pull him out of his head. "It's just the first race of the season. There are a lot more to go." You rub the back of his neck, feeling the hairs there stand up.

Charles closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward. So, you take it as a good sing to keep rubbing and massaging.

Charles groans when you rub between his neck and shoulder, a very sensitive spot for him. He slowly opens his eyes again, looking at you from beneath his eyelashes.

"Come on, let's finish with this and get you to bed." You tentatively slide your hand over his shoulder and left side of his body, stopping at his waist to wrap an arm around it.

For the first time since the race finished, you see a smile forming on his lips. When you make eye contact, you know he has the perfect answer for it and, for the looks of it, it's definitely going to leave you flustered.

"If you wanted me in your bed that badly, all you had to do was ask."

It definitely makes you flush furiously, but you decide not to say anything. Mostly because you don't know what to say. Charles has been saying all these things for a very long time now and you don't know what it means, what he's playing at.

You let go of Charles when you reach the reporter, moving a little to the side to give them some space. The reporter knows what to ask but you still are on high alert, she's known for asking rude and out of place questions.

At first everything goes alright, so, you use that time to answer some messages and check out some emails. Until what the woman says next, makes your heart drop.

"You say you are capable, but it is your fault alm—" You don't let her finish, you interrupt the interview immediately by standing in front of Charles, like trying to shield him from the hurtful words of an unprofessional reporter.

"I'll make sure you receive a fine for that." It's all you say before blindly reaching for Charles.

You take his hand, dragging him out of there. You don't stop for nothing, not when a reporter asks for an interview, not when fans approach Charles to ask for pictures.

You keep walking and walking until you are in front of Charles' driver room. Your heart is hammering inside your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"I'm going to talk to—"

Charles grabs your shoulders, turning you around so you're looking at him. "Don't worry about it. You know I don't care about what they say."

His words make you angry.

"But I care!" You exclaim, immediately regretting it. The corners of Charles' mouth go downwards, and he steps closer. "She deserves that fine."

"I know she deserves it and she will get it," His hands trail over your arms, stopping at your wrists for a second before holding your hands. "but right now I need a hug."

You blink up at him.

"Would you hug me?"

He doesn't need to ask twice. You are moving before you actually process his words, probably because you've been thinking about hugging him since the first time he announced over the radio how the brakes where not responding to him.

Sliding your hand around his shoulders comes like a second nature to you, like is something you've done your whole life. You don't care that he's drenched in sweat, you hide your face in the crook of his neck anyways. And it's then that you learn how much you like the mixture of his scent with the sweat of racing for over two hours.

Charles wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly against his body. It's then that he learns how well you fit against his body. Like you belong there. He knows you belong in his arms.

#5

Charles finished third.

It's his first podium of the season.

You wait by the side but he doesn't see you. He has the most pretty and bright smile on his face as he removes the balaclava from his head. He has the most pretty and bright smile when he greets and congratulates Max and Checo.

And you really think that his smiles widens when he finally looks to the side, right where you are alongside his Ferrari team.

Charles makes his way to his team. Everyone is so happy cheering for him and congratulating him for his first podium. Everyone is happy.

But no one can't he as happy as you are.

Not when he sees you for the first time and rushes to hug you. It's quick, not enough, but they're pulling him away for the post-race interview. He needs to go up on that podium and make everyone proud.

*

You’re pretty sure you took like a dozen pictures of Charles on the podium. The ones where he's looking down at his team are your favorites because it looks like he's looking at you.

Post-race Charles is your favorite kind of Charles. But post-race Charles on the podium... that has to be what being in heaven feels like.

You laugh as you see him approaching hospitality with his trophy and champagne, and a broad smile spread over his face.

He's surrounded by people in a matter of seconds, as wells as Ollie by his side who can't seem to stop smiling. You're very proud of them.

When you see a few reporters approaching, you take into action.

The second Charles sees you, he's forgetting about anything and everyone around him. All he wants is to hug you and tell you how well and right it felt, but there are so many people that he has to settle with you grabbing the hem of his race suit to make him walk into hospitality, away from everyone.

"Go take a shower. Your team wants to celebrate, even Carlos wants to go." You smile up at him.

You don't know how to describe the expression on his face, so, you simply don't.

He snaps out of a his trance and makes his way to his driver room, but when you call his name he stops, turning around so fast that his neck starts to hurt.

"I'm so proud of you, Charlie."

Charles doesn't care if the trophy or the champagne bottle breaks, he just let them fall to the floor and runs to you, lifting you in his arms.

You giggle, feeling light as a feather. Like you're actually on cloud nine.

"Charlie!" Andrea's voice startles the both of you.

You are forced to pull away, but Charles leaves his hand on your waist, not letting you go completely.

"Come on, hurry up! We want to celebrate."

Andrea doesn't bat an eye, he doesn't care that he found you and Charles in a compromising position — kind of? well, it definitely is unprofessional — and that you still are very close to each other.

Charles groans and lets you go. You miss his touch already.

"Don't drink too much, okay?"

"As if I would let him." Andrea says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm a grown man!" Charles screams before shutting the door of his room.

+1

You're watching a movie in bed — wrapped in a hotel bathrobe, freshly out of the shower, with a delicious lotion on your body and feeling like a pampered baby — when there's a knock on your door.

When you open the door, you find a disheveled and out of breathe Charles standing there, leaning against the opposite wall.

"Charles?" You ask, confused.

You look to both sides of the hallway but nobody else is there.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were out celebrating."

"I was—" He says, breathing heavily. "I was but then I just — I realized that I didn't want to be there."

"Okay?" You're not getting any of what he's saying, more confused than ever. "Are you drunk?"

"No! I barely drank anything. It was just a glass."

"Then," You shrug, looking behind you into the room. "I was watching a movie. Do you... want to come in?"

You still don't know why he knocked on your door, but you are not letting him out in the hallway.

Charles accepts the invitation. Just not in the way you would've thought.

It takes you a second to notice a pair soft lips against your own. But when you finally register that you are being kissed, Charles is pulling away from you, a shy smile on his face.

"What are you doing?" You ask, trying to find some coherent words in your fuzzy brain.

Charles' face falls, shoulder slumping slightly. "Oh, shit. I'm so sorry." He starts rambling, moving his hands in the air. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking properly. I thought—we had, I mean... You and—"

You couldn't take it anymore. You needed to take him out of his misery. That's definitely the only reason why you crashed your lips with his, pressing yourself against his body.

Charles moves quickly, walking you backwards into the room and closing the door with his foot.

You sigh into the kiss. A sigh that says finally.

"I think," You whisper against his lips, gasping for air. But Charles keeps on assaulting your lips. "we should talk ab—"

Charles groans pulling away, just enough to talk, lips brushing against yours with every breath. "We could. Or I could show you all the things I've been dreaming on doing to you, and we can talk later."

Your heart starts thumping so fast that your breath hitches in your throat. Charles takes your silence, and your body's reaction, as a yes.

This time, Charles takes his time. He cups your cheek with one hand, thumb caressing your cheekbone so softly — as if you’re made of glass and could break at any moment — and sliding lower, the pad of his finger brushing against your bottom lip.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers, gaze fixed on your plump lips.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since…” You try try to think about it, to remember the very first time you thought about Charles being more than a friend. But it seems like it has always been that way.

“Forever.” Charles finishes for you.

Yes! Your insides scream.

“Would you let me show you?”

You frown, titling your hear to the side. “What?”

“How much I want you.”

There’s no need to verbally say yes, you find that is so much better if you show him. So, you kiss him.

Kissing Charles feels like walking in a soft, pillowy cloud, like everything is falling back into place, like things are how they always should have been.

There is warmth blossoming in your chest, fireworks exploding all around you as Charles leans in closer, lips exploring each other for the first time. You hold onto Charles' shoulder as if you're gonna fall and wake up, realize that this was just a dream. You don't want it to be a dream.

You let him guide you to the bed as his hands rest on your hips, wrinkling the bathrobe with his hands.

His lips are soft yet the kiss is demanding. Your lips part slightly, allowing Charles' tongue to slip inside and explore your mouth.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pulls away. His pupils are dilated and his breathing erratic. "You don't—" He sighs, closing his eyes as if trying and ground himself. Charles takes your hand, silently asking for permission and, when you nod, guides it to his crotch, making you feel how hard he is. "You don't even know the effect you have on me."

Charles doesn't give you time to answer, not even to think about anything but how much you want to kiss him, and feel him, and be his.

"Can I unfasten this?" He asks, lips trailing kisses down your neck. You nod your approval, but Charles shakes his head. "I need words, baby."

"Yes," You don't recognize your own voice, it's feels strange to your ears. "Yes, you can."

Charles smiles, grazing his teeth along your neck, nipping and sucking along the way. You moan when he sucks right above your pulse point.

He takes his time unfastening your bathrobe, letting it fall slowly the floor. In seconds, you're completely bare in front of him. You should feel ashamed, a part of you actually feels embarrassed to be naked in front on a man — in front of Charles. But right now, desire and longing are coursing through your veins, clouding your mind. Your body screams for Charles.

Charles hands are soft on your skin, he splays them on your chest, feeling the thumping of your heart; it makes him smile.

"Would you lay down for me?" He purrs. And who are you to say no?

With shaky legs you climb onto the bed, lying down against the pillows. You can still hear the movie playing in the background, but you couldn't care less, not right now.

You can only watch as Charles removes every piece of clothing from his body. You knew Charles was well toned, you have seen Charles without a shirt, but seeing him here in your room, in a whole different context, makes you close your legs and lift your hips from the bed, searching for something, anything that only Charles can give you.

He rubs his hands up your legs, rubbing your thighs, as he climbs on top of you. His lips find yours one more time, your breath quivering.

"So pretty." Charles grunts, basking in your beauty. It lasts only a couple of seconds because you hide behind your hands. "No need to hide, baby." He pulls your hands away, sliding them over your collarbone, stopping on your chest and grabbing your breasts.

You arch your back against his touch, moans spilling from your mouth and filling the room.

"So good, so, so good." You blurt out, getting lost in the pleasure his hands are giving you, pinching and squeezing your breasts. One of his hands is replaced for his mouth, and you have to force yourself to open your eyes to see the view of Charles on top of you, making you come undone with his mouth.

His left hand leaves your breast as his mouth keeps the assault on your breast, he slowly lowers it to part your legs, making you squirm.

You've never been this wet before, and Charles notices the moment his fingers make contact with your cunt. Charles begins to rub circles on your throbbing clit, a desperate whine escaping your lips.

"Please," You beg, the only word leaving your lips over and over again.

Charles takes pity on you, knowing exactly what you need. So, he gives it to you; one of his fingers slips in, causing you to buck your hips involuntarily.

"So good for me." Charles croons, taking your lips with his own, swallowing all your moans. "You think you can take my cock, pretty girl?" He asks, slipping in another finger, pressing them upward. Your brain feels fuzzy, but in such a good way. You don't need to be asked twice, a yes leaves you lips immediately as you grind your hips desperately into his hand.

"I can, Charles—please I can take it." You moan, making Charles slow his movements.

Charles pulls out his fingers, and you whine desperately at the loss. "I got you, baby." But then a thought crosses his mind and he curses under his breath, closing his eyes for a second. "I don't—shit I don't have a condom."

You make grabby hands, making him lean forward so you can touch him. You cup his face with your hands, eyes finding his green ones. There's sweat on his forehead, his face flushed, and you think that post-race Charles and bedroom Charles are definitely battling to win first place.

"We're both clean, I know." You graze your fingers over his pecs, making him shudder. "Just—please, Charlie. I need you."

Who is he to say no to you?

The mere thought of fucking you bare is enough to send his mind reeling.

Charles aligns himself between your legs, the tip of his cock gathering your wetness and making you both moan at the feeling.

You dig your nails in his shoulder as he slowly starts to bury himself inside of you. Charles leans to kiss you, and is messy and wet, tongues and spit mix together as you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling ever so slightly, which makes him moan against your mouth. So you do it again.

Charles kisses you with so much desperation, desire consuming you both. He bottoms out and you can't reciprocate the kiss anymore, not when he stars slamming his hips, setting an agonizing pace.

Charles fucks you into the bed wincing as he feels you bite his shoulder, a poor attempt of trying not to scream and let the whole hotel floor know what you are doing.

"How does it feel? Is that what you wanted, uh?" He groans, brushing a strand of hair out of your sweaty face.

"Yeah, feels so good, Char. So good." Your whole body is burning, you feel so deliciously filled.

Charles bends your legs, pushing them against your chest as he finds a new angle to keep on fucking you. He starts thrusting faster, holding onto your legs so hard you know there will be bruises tomorrow.

It's too much. You don't even have time nor words to warn him before you are coming, clenching around Charles' cock.

"So tight. So. Fucking. Tight." Charles whispers, pace faltering as he feels his own climax approaching. He keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm.

You are a moaning, whimpering mess, and you let Charles use you as much as he likes, you let it know that over and over again.

"That's it, baby. 'm gonna come now," Those are Charles' final words as he pulls out, pumping himself a few more times until he's painting your chest with his cum.

Charles plops down on the bed next to you, both panting and completely exhausted.

"Are you okay?" He asks in a hoarse voice.

You turn to look at him, fingers playing with his cum on your chest. The only thing you can do is nod, too exhausted to even to talk.

"What? Did I fuck your brains out?" Charles teases, leaning in to leave a chaste kiss to your lips. It's so innocent and soft, the total opposite of what you did just moments ago.

"Shut up!" You breathe out, giggling. There is still a buzzing in your ears and a tingling sensation in your cunt. But you feel good.

"Come on," He says, standing up and reaching for your hands.

You frown, standing on shaky legs. He teases you some more and you end up pushing him away.

"What are we doing?"

"Taking a bath," He explains, tugging at your hand. "We need to clean you up."

"I just took a shower, this is all your fault." You complain, his green eyes boring into you.

"You liked it." It's not a question.

He tugs at your hand again and you follow, you really would follow Charles to the end of the world. Charles can't hide the big, stupid smile on his face. "You said you were watching a movie, so, we are going to watch a movie."

© verstappen-cult, 2024 — do not repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱ #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 grid x reader

[uglypastels]

Following the Herd // dark!cult!Eddie x reader

summary: Eddie Munson has never been anything but sweet and caring to you. He had always made sure you were alright and safe and always helped you with anything you asked for. So now, that he needed you, how could you possibly refuse?

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING TO READ THIS FIC AND IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THE SOUND OF THEM, DO NOT READ IT. if you do and still have any complaints about the content that has been tagged, that's on you. <3

word count: 14k

warnings the occult and cult stuff. blood. ritual sacrifices. inflicting non-lasting injury on self/others. subliminal indoctrination. Manipulation and taking advantage of the naive and innocent reader. Eddie is protective, possessive and controlling. has issues. mention of character death [the Creels]. mention of drinking, smoking and drugs.

Explicit Content! 18+ only. Minors DNI! fem reader. PIV sex. unprotected sex (big no-no). heavy s/d dynamic. thigh riding. extended orgasm denial. overstimulation. innocence and corruption kink + virginity. knife kink (kinda). spitting. oral [f receiving]. debatable dacryphilia. blindfold. Eddie's handcuffs. praise. "whore" x1.

If I missed out on any warnings, I severely apologise. Please let me know and I will add them

"Just as every cop is a criminal

And all the sinners saints

As heads is tails

Just call me Lucifer

'Cause I'm in need of some restraint"

-the Rolling Stones, Sympathy for the Devil

The thing one must understand about Eddie Munson is that he never meant for anything bad to happen. On the contrary, he had nothing but good intentions for you, for anyone. He was a kind, deeply caring person who wanted nothing but the best for others. It was not his fault that people didn't understand him. 

So what? He didn't dress like all the other conservative assholes in town. He was different and dared to speak up for himself; since when is that a crime? He had his beliefs to fight for, just like anyone else; why would that make him the bad guy? People have started wars over way less, and yet, Eddie had been the one cast out from society, branded as a monster. He, who had never done anything wrong in his life. 

You knew like no other how wrong these misconceptions about him were, having experienced his kindness first-hand. It was only a year ago, but it could have been a lifetime. It was almost a coincidence how he found you at that party over spring break. There were so many people, and the music was so loud, that it was easy to get disorientated. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of liquor, making you sick. He had helped you then. It was Eddie who took your hand and led you outside into the fresh and cold night air. 

'You alright?' He looked deep into your eyes with a soft smile, to which you could only smile sheepishly. Maybe that is how he had thought of his cute nickname for you? 'What's a cute little lamb like you doing out here, all alone, anyway?' 

'I'm here with my friends. Just… seemed to have misplaced them somewhere.' You had laughed, not wanting to show how scary that had actually been. The music from inside the house was still blasting, beating against your chest. Eddie nodded in understanding. 

'You've got to be careful, sweetheart, don't want to lose yourself to this chaos.' He brushed some hair out of your face; your skin was burning up from how warm it had been in the house. You only noticed it when compared to the cold touch of his hand. His eyes were still on you, focused, the deep dark of his irises pulling you in. 'Haven't been drinking, have we?' He smiled innocently, clearly teasing, intensifying the burning heat in your cheeks. 

'No.' You could say it earnestly, but the reasons behind your honesty felt a bit embarrassing. You almost didn't want to admit that you had never had a drink before and were still apprehensive about alcohol. He would surely think it's silly, to be 18 and never even have had a beer or a shot. There were so many things you still hadn't done, in fact, that he would probably see as normal.

But his smile grew bigger, and he almost sounded proud when he continued with the conversation: 'Good. Good. You don't want that stuff in you.' 

'I don't?' You blinked as he shook his head. Anyone else would have told you to suck it up, but not him.

'No, all it will do is ruin that pretty mind of yours. And we don't want that, do we?' His voice made your heart flutter in excitement, which proved everyone else's suspicions wrong. Because no evil could make you feel that good, could it? 

And it never really stopped. Neither the feeling you felt when you were around him nor how he treated you. Eddie had a very protective and caring nature. He needed to be sure you were safe and alright. At school, he would ensure you ate your lunch, had a good night's sleep the night before, and weren't too cold or too warm. He invited you to hang out a lot– an offer you could hardly refuse. He walked you home and would help you with your homework or take you back to his trailer, where he would play you songs on his guitar. The music he listened to sure was different from what you were used to. Heavy, gritty and dark, but all of that talk that it was Satan's music was ridiculous. Anyone who would listen to a few bars of it could know that. And the artistry of these musicians was also undeniable. 

Eddie had never expected you to enjoy his kind of music as much as you did, but it brought the biggest smile to his face, which, in turn, made you that much happier. You couldn't get enough of his happiness and could do anything for it. It would be the fair thing to do, considering everything Eddie's done for you... 

When your parents found out you had started hanging out with a boy like Eddie Munson, they were, quite honestly, scared. They did not want his likes to influence you, making you stray down to a dark and dangerous lifestyle. 

But it couldn't be further away from the truth. 

Eddie ensured you stayed away from things such as alcohol or drugs, even cigarettes. He didn't even want you talking about it, didn't want you anywhere near the stuff. And even though he used all of it, he made sure to never do it around you. He would hide away the weed and the liquor bottles in his trailer, and he'd control his need to smoke until you had left. 

'It's too late for me, I'm beyond saving, but that doesn't mean you have to go down that path too.' He would say, stroking your hair, if you ever asked why he was so adamant about keeping you away from these vices. 'Can't have my little lamb be ruined like that.' And he would kiss your forehead, ring-clad hand upon your cheek. His rips were usually chapped, and fingers roughly calloused, but you didn't mind. His touch still felt divine. 

Eddie protected you from more than just these substances. He knew you were not the most experienced in living life, which was something he appreciated and praised, but the shock on his face when you had told him you had never even had your first kiss… the idea of that made his head spin. It excited him more than he had ever thought imaginable, but it also scared him. Since he had found that out about you, you had noticed how much more protective he had gotten over you around certain people. It was cute, how possessive he got when other guys looked at you. 

'Believe me, baby, they're no good for you.' He would hold you close, turning your back to whoever had been trying to catch your eye. 'Guys like that… they only have one thing on their mind.' 

'What's that?' you asked, but he never gave you a direct answer. It was nothing his little lamb should be worried about. You were his pure, innocent girl, and he couldn't have the evils of others corrupt you. He wanted what's best for you. 

He really did make you feel safe and comfortable, in a way no one had ever done before. You felt like you could tell him anything, no matter how personal or embarrassing. Things you wouldn't dare tell any other guy. 

'Uhm, Eddie,' you mumbled one time. You were in your bedroom, sitting on the ground with your backs against your bed. Eddie had you sitting between his legs. His hands around your middle, rubbing small circles on the bare piece of skin between where your shirt and trousers met. The sensation it left on you spread across your whole body in sparks, particularly between your legs, making it very hard to focus on the book you had been trying to read.

'Something wrong?' He asked, head propped up on your shoulder as he spoke, so his words came out with his warm breath against your neck, not helping your situation. 

'I uh–' you were flustered; the only thing you could think about was how his fingers were creeping over your stomach, inching your waistband. 'Nevermind.' 

'No, no, sweetheart. Now you got to tell me.' 

'It's a bit warm in here, don't you think?' You breathed out slowly. 

'Not really.' He shrugged. 'But you can open a window if you want.' 

You took the opportunity to get away from his touch. Not that you minded it or that it wasn't pleasant. On the contrary, you had to escape it because of how good it felt. You had never felt like this before. Hot and bothered, all over. It wasn't something you were used to or even knew how to handle. 

'Are you sure, you're alright?' Eddie asked once you came back to sit in his lap. You hummed out a response, but he could tell it wasn't all true. 'C'mon, it's me. You can tell me, can't you?' Of course, you could. You could tell Eddie anything, that much you knew. 

'I just– feel a bit hot. That's all.' It still all felt a bit silly. A bit difficult to put into words.

'Hot?' He asked for a clarification, to which you only nodded your head. You looked down at your lap, embarrassed even though you knew there was nothing to be ashamed about. Eddie wrapped his arms around you, but his hands were low, pressing at the hem of your trousers, and it wasn't making matters any better. 

'What are you doing?' You gasped when you felt him slip past the material of your shorts, fingers sliding over your panties slowly. You arched your back in anticipation; it was an automatic, subconscious reaction. Still, it felt wrong, though. He had always told you how that part of you was sacred, off limits for others. 

Others. Yes. 

Not him. 

'I just need to check something.' His voice was a mere hush as his fingertips brushed over your core, just the thin layer of cotton keeping up the barrier between you. But he wouldn't actually touch you there. Not yet. He couldn't ruin you like that. It would be inconsiderate and selfish, and that's not who Eddie was. He just wanted what's best for you.

'You are burning up, baby,' he clicked his tongue when his fingers added some pressure to the touch. Your back stiffened, and you held your breath, unsure what to do. 'I wish I could help, but I can't right now.' Of course, you would never actually protest anything he did, knowing he had his valid reasons, but you wished he hadn't pulled away. 

'Why not?' your voice was shaky. 

'It's not the right time,' he pressed you back against his chest, taking in your sweet scent. Your shampoo, your perfume, even the ink of the pen you had been writing with for the past few hours, and your arousal– all mixed into something that could only be described as you. 

'Right time?' you weren't sure what he meant by that, but Eddie talked a lot about funny things that you didn't understand. Mostly, it was about the game he played at school with his friends, Dungeons and Dragons. He had tried to explain it to you several times, and most of it was easy enough to grasp, but he could talk on about it for ages, and it was almost as if he was pulling you into a trance of attention. Words would lose their meaning as you were too focused on Eddie himself. The sound of his voice and his movements– he always used his hands to emphasise what he said. And maybe it was for the better you didn't understand everything that was happening in the club. 

Not that it mattered, anyway. It was nothing his little lamb should be worried about.

'Yeah, got to wait a bit, sweetheart. Patience is a virtue, isn't that what they always say? And believe me, if you wait a bit longer, it will be so worth it.' 

'How long?' you already didn't want to wait. His featherlight touch had been enough to ignite a fire in you. But, unfortunately, it wasn't enough to subside whatever feeling was gnawing at you there. If anything, the memory of his touch only made it worse. You needed more. 

'Not too long. I'll let you know when it's time, ok?' He started rubbing his hand over your arm. 'But you got to promise me one thing.' 

'Of course.' Anything for Eddie. He knew what was best. 

'Do not touch yourself there, ok? It might be difficult because you might not feel much better without it, but it will feel so wonderful in the end. I promise.' He made plenty of these kinds of promises and had held up to them every single time. That was another reason you trusted him; everyone else was simply wrong in their perceptions. An evil person would not keep to their promises as Eddie did. 

Eddie cared

Deeply

About you. 

So you listened to what he asked of you, nearly blindly. 

The feeling inside of you grew much to your frustration, but you kept your promise to Eddie. The days went on rather slowly, not helping your problem, and neither did Eddie. His touches seemed to linger more than they used to. He was always at your side, keeping you close to him; that didn't change that much. But he would let his hands wander over your body. 

Perhaps he was nervous about something, and the way he coped was to draw invisible shapes all over your body when he had his arms wrapped around you. He'd mumble to himself, little nonsense things you couldn't make out. He also got a bit forgetful; at lunchtime, he would forget to save you a seat, leading you to have to sit in his lap. Not that you minded. But what was a bit frustrating was how antsy he had gotten, letting his leg bouncing up and down. (What was he so nervous about?) Other times you wouldn't have minded, but how his jeans grazed over your sensitive and already frustrated core made you want to cry out. 

'Eddie, could you maybe stop that? Please?' You looked up at him, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat. 

'Sorry, baby,' He stopped, but the friction was just replaced by the hand he had put on your thigh. So many people were around you, all chatting and enjoying their free time out of class, yet there was only him for you. His big brown eyes sucked you into a place where it was just the two of you. So you weren't even embarrassed when he asked you: 'have are you feeling? Been a good little lamb for me?' 

'Yes.' As if on cue, you couldn't help but rub your legs together, needing some kind of stimulus to keep you away from that burning feeling between your legs. It had been going on for days, only getting stronger, and you could do nothing about it. 

Your action didn't escape Eddie's vision, and he was quick to pull your legs apart. However, his hand remained sturdily between them. 

'Haven't been touching yourself?' He wasn't whispering or trying not to be heard, but no one was paying attention really anyway. But even if they had, you didn't care. 

'No. Of course not.' He would ask you the same question each day, and each day you could happily respond. Even if every time it got harder and harder to do. 'But… Eddie–' 

'Hmm?' he hummed, pushing some hair out of your face with the hand that had not settled over the warm gap between your thighs.

'I feel like it's just getting worse,' your voice was almost lost in the ocean of others, but he heard you, and he smiled softly as you continued. 'I don't know how much longer–' but that is where he cut you off. 

'I know, baby. I know. But you're not ready yet, and we don't want all of this to go to waste, do we?' He looked you in the eyes until you shook your head in agreement; what you agreed to, however, was a bit vague. 'But it's not much longer anymore, and then just think of how good it will feel. Your reward will be grand.' 

'Reward?' He had never even said anything about a reward. 

'Oh, of course. My little lamb deserves a prize for behaving this well.' He squeezed you into a tight hug, pulling you in. You could feel his thumb press against your sensitive bud again for just a second, but you pushed aside the urge for more. He propped you up, helping you sit up better in his lap, but this again only made you feel his hand on you more prominently. His lips were nearly against your jaw when he spoke up again. 'How about you come over to my place later, and I'll try to help you with your problem, hmm? A… little taste of what's to come?' 

'Are you sure?' You didn't want him to do anything that could end up hurting either of you. If he said, you weren't ready… 

'Yeah, I can't have you walking around like this, all flustered. It's making all the other guys stare.' 

'What?' This made you stiffen up a bit. Why were they all staring at you? Could they tell, see even, how enkindled you were? You hadn't thought so. 

'Shh, it's alright. I'll take care of them. Don't you worry.' He would make sure you were safe, that much you knew. 'Meet me at the car later. I'll drive us home.' The bell for the next class would ring soon, and you wouldn't see Eddie until after school ended. Those were always the hardest times of the day, besides maybe when you were lying in bed alone, wishing he was with you to help you fall asleep and make that ache between your legs finally disappear. 

The classes were almost impossible for you to get through, as all you could think of was Eddie. Minutes were passing by so slowly, that you wanted to scream. Was no one else upset about how time just did not seem to move forward? That could not be possible. But, then again, you were the only one irking to get out of there to meet Eddie in the parking lot. 

You practically jump into his arms. The wind blew in your face, bringing his dark locks along and tickling your neck. He smelled like incense and his musky cologne. Someone like him should have something more bitter about him, you had thought at be beginning of your friendship, but Eddie was sweet. Not just in his actions, but in everything else around him. Because even with that smokey scent, mixed with his cologne, there was still a sweetness around him that you could not identify. It pulled you in, the familiarity of it, and yet you could never quite place it in your mind as to what it was. 

Eddie's hand never left your body as he drove you to the trailer park. You loved when he drove his car, but it was also frustrating that his hand was all he could give you. His eyes were, of course, entirely concentrated on the road ahead, and you missed them. 

Fortunately, the drive wasn't too long, and before you knew it, he led you out to his trailer, into the back of it, where his room was. It was messy, like most days, and there were things strewn about all over the place, which Eddie tried to sort out as he went along. He picked something up that looked like a long glass vase from next to his bed and put it in his closet. 

'What was that?' you asked curiously as he sat down on the bed. You were still standing by the door. 

'That? Oh, nothing, baby. Just c'mere.' He held out his hand for you to take once you had made your way over to him. You were ready to sit down, but Eddie pressed the palm of his other hand over your stomach, keeping you up. 'Hmm, no. Wait up.' He took both your hands in his, kissing your knuckles. 'Before we start, I need you to listen, really carefully, to me. I got to know you understand.' 

Eddie rarely spoke in such a serious manner, so it made you a bit nervous. He held your hands tightly, and you stood between his spread legs. He looked up at you, almost with pleading eyes, as if he didn't know that you were already listening to him intently, taking in each word he gave you desperately, never wanting him to stop giving you his attention or time.  

'I'm listening, Eddie, always,' you smiled, and he hugged out a little laugh. 

'This is just really important to me,' he chuckled lightly again, 'I want to make you feel good, sweetheart, but I can't make that feeling that is bothering you go away just yet. It shouldn't go away just yet, because you're not ready, we're not ready… but we can do something to help with it; for now, does that sound alright?' 

'Yes.' Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as he kissed your knuckles again. 

'Good, come sit here,' he tapped onto his right thigh, and you sat down, but apparently not in the way he had meant for you to do, as he laughed. 'No, baby. Like this. Here.' He shuffled a bit back onto the bed and made you sit with your legs on either side of his, locking him in between you. He put his hand on your hip, pushing you into him. The material of your jeans pressed into you, releasing some of the tension that had been building up in you over the past few days. Then, with his guidance, you started moving your hips over his leg. 

'Feels good, doesn't it?' Eddie asked, and you nodded your head quickly. 'Yeah, and it will only feel better the longer you keep doing it. Go a bit faster– that's it.' 

'It– oh my- aah,' you gasped out at this foreign sensation that rushed through your body. 'Thank you,' the words came out with a heavy breath of air as you found your rhythm.

'You're very welcome, sweetheart. You've been doing so well for me, haven't you? Deserve a little treat.' Your faces were nearly at the same level with you on his lap, and his mouth ghosted over yours. You could feel it there, not even an inch apart, but he couldn't– no matter how much he wanted to kiss your perfect lips, they would remain untouched for now. But it wouldn't be long anymore. Soon, he would make all this wait worthwhile. 

'Keep going as long as you want, baby,' the sight of you pleasuring yourself on his thigh made him short circuit, but he had to keep his mind clear. 

'It feels–' you didn't know how to describe the feeling that started to overcome you. You were tensing up again. Suddenly the release you felt from this friction didn't feel as satisfying anymore. It was urging you on to keep going, to tense that tight feeling in you until it snapped, but it was getting worse. Finally, you had to squeeze your eyes shut. 'Eddie!' 

'Woah, Woah, Woah.' He halted your hips tightly. 'Stop.' 

'What-' you were confused, not sure what had happened. The tight feeling in your gut loosened, but the satisfaction you had felt also reclined. 

'You were close, weren't you?' He asked, and you weren't entirely sure what he meant by "close", but somehow, on a deeper level, you knew that that is what you had felt, and so nodded a bit meekly. Eddie nodded along in understanding. 'See, you're not ready for that yet, baby. So if you feel it again, you got to tell me and stop, got it? If you feel that tightness coming, do not keep going. It can be too much for you right now, I don't want you to ger hurt.'

'I get it,' a lump formed in your throat again. 

'Alright. Do you want to do it again?' He squeezed your hips, and you bit your lip. You did want to keep going, as it did feel amazing when you could release some of that tension your body had built up. Eddie just wanted to help you; it wasn't his fault that he couldn't get rid of this hollow feeling inside you. He did everything he could to make you feel as good as possible. He let you writhe over his leg for an eternity, replaying the cycle of your pleasure, letting you inch toward that unattainable high. Every time you felt the knot in your stomach, you would gasp out his name, and he would hold you still. It was torture you brought upon yourself to keep going over and over again, but it felt so good. It didn't matter that you could never actually get it to completion. That initial feeling of bliss compensated for the pain of unfulfillment. 

'You're so good for me. My sweet little lamb, always listens so well.' Even if there was nothing to inherently pleasure Eddie, he still felt fantastic. Seeing you like this made him feel like never before, and to see you obey his requests as you did… it was pure euphoria. 

Tears were stinging your eyes, but he was quick to brush them away, right at the corners of your eyes. You could not possibly go on much longer. Your grip on his shoulder weakened, and your hips started jutting forward haphazardly, exhausted.

'Eddie,' you gasped out a final time; you didn't even have energy left in you to reach that edge anymore. Your body shut down as you fell forward into Eddie. He fell back, holding on to you as his back hit the mattress. 

'Did so good, baby. So good.' He held you tightly as you caught your breath. You were shaking, so he grabbed the covers and pulled them over you. 

'I– thank you.' You nuzzled deeper into his hold. No words were exchanged for a while. His arms stayed wrapped around you, caressing your back gently as the seconds on the clock ticked by. 

'How are you feeling?' He eventually asked, whispering, in case you had fallen asleep on top of him. But you answered, voice weak and tired: 

'I'm alright.' Everything was still spinning a bit; you couldn't quite tell up from down. The only thing grounding you was Eddie. He started to draw more random shapes over your back, mumbling nothings to himself, and you were ready to doze off. Peace was coming over you. Then his voice turned up a bit louder as he spoke directly to you.

'I'm so proud of you.' It was still a whisper, but his voice vibrated through his throat. 

'Thank you, Eddie.' 

'Mmm, did so good, you know what?' He kissed your forehead. 'How about we go to the mall tomorrow. Get you something nice?' 

Your head shot up in the excitement, and you looked into his eyes. 'Is– that my reward?' 

'No, I just want to spoil you,' he chuckled, petting your hair flat, 'Your reward will be so much better. Just you wait.' He rolled over to his side, taking you along so you'd fall onto the mattress beside him. 'Want me to take you home?' He asked, and you had nodded yes, and maybe had even said it, but your eyelids were so heavy, and you were so tired, that soon sleep came over you, and you had never felt quite as peaceful as you had in his arms. 

Eddie not once thought of letting you go. He did what he had to do to keep you close and safe. 

His pure and innocent little lamb. 

All his. 

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

The next day, he did indeed take you shopping. It was a lovely day full of sunshine, and he held your hand as you walked past stores. Even if you hadn't realised it, he already had something in mind he wanted to get you, and it just so happened to be at one store you frequented. 

He watched you go through the racks of clothing and smiled anytime he caught your eye. He had to pull you back. Otherwise, you would have missed the one thing he had wanted you to see. 

'How about this one?' He picked a dress up from the hanger. It was a long and flowy white summer dress. You furrowed your brows, not having expected that to be his choice of outfit for you. It was neither his nor your style, yet he handed it to you with plenty of enthusiasm. 

'Are you sure?' You asked, watching him nod his head adamantly. 

'You'll look gorgeous, I can already tell.' he pressed the dress against you, looking at how it would look on you. 'Wanna go and try it on?' 

'Yeah, of course,' you smiled, and the next thing you knew, Eddie was opening up the door to a dressing room for you. He hung the dress on a hook next to the mirror and closed the door behind him. He said he would be right there if you needed anything, and you knew it was true. He would be sitting right there in one of the fuzzy chairs, waiting for you to come out and spin around for him. 

But unfortunately, the zipper in the back of the dress was not as easy to pull up as you thought, so you called out his name. Not a second later, Eddie popped his head inside the little room, eyes closed for your decency. 

'It's alright, Eds,' you giggled, 'you can look. I just can't get the zipper up.' 

'Ah, well, let me,' he came up to you, and his hands were on the small of your back, holding the two sides of the dress together so he could pull the zipper up. It was cold against your skin, and Eddie moved extremely slowly, not wanting to accidentally snag the fabric or get your hair caught in it. He pulled it all the way up and smoothed out the dress at your sides, not that you thought it had been that wrinkled. You had been facing the mirror, so he put his head on your shoulder to look along with you. 

'Absolutely beautiful.' He whispered, imitating the confined intimacy of the dressing room. Your cheeks heated up at the compliment, but also because you did actually feel beautiful wearing the dress. It fitted perfectly, wrapping around your body at every angle. It was light, comfortable, soft… just the white colour felt slightly off for you. Eddie noticed this apprehension in your face. 'What's wrong, sweetheart?'

'I'm just not so sure about white. It doesn't really feel like me, does it?' 

'Thought you might want to try something new. And just look how good it looks on you.' Then, with a finger under your chin, he made you look in the mirror again, 'An angel.' 

'Oh, Eddie,' you swung around to hug him. 'Thank you.' you mumbled the words against his chest. 

'Anything for you, baby.' His hand moved up and down over your back. 

After the dress shopping, the two of you walked around, with no real goal or destination in mind. The presence of each other was more than enough. But as the day went on, you couldn't help but feel down. Eddie had done so much for you over time, especially in the recent days; you wanted to repay him somehow. Show him that you cared for him just as much as he cared about you. Did he even know that you would do anything for him? You hoped so. 

You kept on thanking him as the day went on, which only made him laugh. The message had been quite clear after the first three times, and now it was becoming almost excessive. But he could never complain either, loving how much you appreciated him, but enough was enough. Surely. 

'I just wish I could do something in return.' 

'You really don't need to.' He cupped your face in the palm of his hand. 

'But I want to.' You persisted. 'There must be something I could do for you.' 

'Not that I can think of, but if anything comes up, I will let you know.' And that was that. You didn't want to press on the matter; why nag on a little thing like that, ruin what would be a lovely day? So, you went and had coffee at a café on Main Street, where Eddie again demanded to pay the bill, and then he drove you back home. Only when the car stopped in front of your driveway did you realise that this had been the longest time you had ever spent with Eddie: Almost an entire day. And it had also been one of the best days ever. Not because of how he had spoiled you– you couldn't care less about that stuff– but because you had not once stopped smiling. With him, you felt like you were on cloud nine, seventh heaven, paradise, and you never wanted it to stop. 

'What are you doing tomorrow?' you asked hopefully. It would be a Sunday then, and like most Sundays, you would have nothing to do. Eddie tapped the steering wheel.

'I got some things to take care of. Nothing too exciting.' Perhaps he saw your deflated expression. 'We'll hang out another time, yeah? I'll see you at school.' If you had been two different people, you would have leaned in and kissed goodbye, but instead, Eddie cupped your face again and tapped your cheek lightly with his hand. You did lean into his touch, not wanting it to leave you, but it always did at some point. 

'I'll miss you.' You pouted, which he mimicked. 

'And I'll miss you too, but this thing– it's really important. I can't miss it, and it will most likely take me the whole day–' 

'Why don't I help you?' You interrupted as the idea jumped to your mind. 'Then we can still spend time together and maybe you might even finish sooner.' 

'Oh, you don't want to–' 

'But I do,' you persisted. This was your chance. You could finally prove to Eddie how much he meant to you. 

'Are you sure?' Eddie raised his brow inquisitively. You nodded your head once but very clearly, indicating your standpoint. He couldn't get rid of you even if he tried. He knew it too, as seen through the deep sigh he took, but he was smiling. Your persistence was adorable. 

'Ok, fine. Do you know where the Creel House is?' 

'The creepy old boarded-up building?' Yeah, you knew the Creel House. Everyone in town did. Everyone had heard the story of what had happened there all those years ago, and it still made you feel uncomfortable to think about it. 

'I'll see you there at 5, ok? Wear the pretty dress we got today, too. I can't get enough of you in it.' And this time, he did lean in to kiss your cheek. Or, almost your cheek. It had been where he had intended for his lips to touch you, but it had only missed your own lips by less than an inch. The kiss was also just like all the other formalities. It probably lasted less than a second but left you wanting more. That warm feeling in your body resurfaced, much to your dismay. After yesterday, you had hoped it would stay hidden a bit longer, but apparently, one tiny featherlight kiss on the apple of your cheek was enough for it to come back up. 

'Who knows,' Eddie took your hand, 'maybe tomorrow will be the day, too.' 

'You mean–' you looked up at him with wide eyes. 

'We'll see. Now go, sweetheart.' He left you thinking about it for the entire night. Were you finally ready? Would this unbearable ache in your pit finally disappear? You hoped so. You were jittery with excitement about the next day. You could barely sleep, even though you knew Eddie wouldn't appreciate that (he always needed you to be well rested). And then the morning came, and you couldn't get a bite of your breakfast down your throat as you jumped in your seat from anticipation. You knew it was silly, but after all this time, you finally got a chance to show Eddie everything. And you had waited for weeks to touch yourself, and it was as if your body could tell that the waiting time was almost over. 

It was almost over; you told yourself as you made your way to the house. You were too early; you knew that, but better too early than too late. Maybe Eddie would already be there, and then… that is when you realised you actually had no idea what you were coming into the house for. What did he want you to do there? 

A harsh wind blew, pulling at the hem of your dress, which you had to hold not to let the street see your backside. The steps to the porch creaked under your footsteps, and the door you knew was once covered in wooden boards was now broken open. The beautiful stained-glass window was broken into shards, with a large hole in the middle– exactly where the rose used to bloom daily. 

'Hello?' You called out as you stepped inside. The temperature immediately seemed to drop, and the air had a moist hint, thick with dust flying around you. Footsteps were coming from upstairs. 

'Baby?' It was Eddie, and the sound of his voice immediately made all your worries go away.

'Yes! It's me!' You wanted to tread the stairs, a large and eccentric staircase, but Eddie showed up at the top of it. His hair was fastened up with his black bandana. You had imagined he would appreciate your early arrival, but a grimace covered his face instead. 

'You're early. I told you 5.' The old clock in the back of the hallway still clicked away and pointed to ten minutes to five, so you weren't that early. 

'I'm sorry. I walked faster than I expected.' 

'It's alright, just– just wait here. I'm almost ready.' Oh, was he setting something up for you? A surprise? Your reward? It brought back all these fluttery feelings in your stomach. 

You could hear Eddie shuffling around the upper floor, right above you. He was walking up and down the room, carrying things around. You wanted to go up and help him, but since he had told you to wait– you waited. Five minutes went by, ten, fifteen, and you were getting restless at the bottom of these tall stairs. With each creak in the floorboards, you hoped Eddie would appear again. 

That only happened a bit later, when you glanced up and saw him walk out of a dark room. He grinned down at you, and your body screamed to run up those stairs, but again, you waited for him to let you. 

'C'mere, I want to show you something.' And that is how you eagerly made your way upstairs finally. Eddie waited at the top step and watched how your dress flowed with your movements. Truly angelic, if such things existed. Holding you by the hand, he led you into the room he had just come out of. 

All the large windows were plastered shut, covered with wooden planks or plastic tarps, and while that should have made the room pitch black, you could still see everything inside clearly. That is because Eddie had set up candles all over the surfaces near the large bed that stood in the middle of the room. The orange flames gave the room a warm glow, and it must have been the most romantic thing you had ever seen. 

'Is this for me?' you glanced over at him, still in awe and shock. He laughed at this lightheartedly, squeezing your hand. It must have taken him hours to prepare all of this, but it was so worth it, you could tell him. The atmosphere brought to the room was fantastical, otherworldly. 

Eddie led you to the centre of the room, where the candles on the ground were positioned in a circular shape, with just enough space for you to stand. 

'You look beautiful, y/n,' Eddie spoke in a hushed whisper. 'Divine. My little lamb.' He pushed the hair out of your face again. Why did it always get in the way? Such a gorgeous face should not be covered up with anything, which is why he was glad you hadn't put on make-up today. You were standing in front of him in your purest form. The white dress accentuated it. 'You know why you're here, don't you?' 

'Because you asked me to?' you spoke, voice shaking for some reason. The fire of the candles flickered on. In the dim light, you could make out some kind of graffiti painted on the walls, strange symbols you did not recognise. 

'Yes, but I meant, why I asked you to come here.' The entire house had been left in its original state, never emptied out after the original owners had… left it. This meant that the old bedroom still had all its furnishings around. The bed was behind you, but you could also see a dresser and an armchair in the corner. Eddie walked up to the dresser and picked something up. Long, thin, the silver reflecting the golden flame light– 

'Eddie?' You wanted to step back at the sight of the sharp knife but remembered the candles positioned all around you. 'What- what are you doing?' 

'It's ok, baby. I'm not going to hurt you,' Eddie smiled kindly. He toyed with the sharp tip of the blade, twirling it against his hand. 'I would never hurt you. You know that, right?' You did know this, so you didn't bother to back away when he came closer. Eyes remained locked, ignoring the fire, the symbols, and the blade. There was just you and him. 'You know that, right?' Eddie repeated his question, to which you nodded. But he needed you to say it and hear your voice.

'Yes.' He only wanted what's best for you, to protect you. But, of course, he would never do you any harm. 

'Good. Really, sweetheart, you don't know how happy I am I found you– you're so– you're just so perfect.' His perfect little lamb. All his. You couldn't tell if the heat burning inside you came from the candles or his words. 'You have always listened so well, always been so good. And you'll keep being good, won't you?' 

'Mhm.' The power of longer words escaped you. Eddie cupped your cheek in his hand, patting it gently.

'Because I really need you to listen and do as I say, baby. This is really important to me.' 

'But-' you pushed the words out, 'what are you doing?' You still couldn't quite make sense of the things around you. But Eddie smiled at your question, as if he had been expecting it, had wanted you to ask. Your hair was poking from behind your ears again, sticking at your cheek, which he brushed off. He could cut it right off with the knife in his hand– he always thought you would look prettier in shorter hair, it would frame your face so nicely–  but it would probably not be appreciated. Maybe one day, if he asked nicely if you would still have him after today.

Of course, you would. 

'We're going to heal the world, sweetheart.' He smiled his big gorgeous smile, but you were too caught up in his words. 'Restore the order of life, make everything wrong right again– you want to help me with that, don't you?' 

'Well, yes, but–' the fire was heating up the room quickly, and you could feel it on your skin. The knife in Eddie's hand kept reflecting the light, making you look at it, but each time you would, Eddie would press his fingers into your cheek so you would find his eyes again. 

'You don't have to be scared; I'm not going to hurt you. I need you to trust me, y/n.' The way your name flowed out of his lips, so smooth and sweet, you felt terrible just for having a thought of doubt ever sour mind. But even if you told yourself not to be scared, he did see that fear in your eyes. It was frustrating to see, because how many times could he comfort you? What would it take for you to understand him? Finally, he moved, turned slightly to the side, and the cold blade hit your arm. It did not cut or hurt, but it made you flinch. 

'Eddie–' your voice was so weak, nothing like he was used to. 

'Can I tell you a story?' He watched you nod your head. ''Humanity is a pest, y/n. We are poisoning our world with this structure and order, depending on these vices as if we were not the ones who had created them in the first place– there is nothing structural about us! We live our days just waiting for them to be over, numbing ourselves and telling lies to make it feel like it means something while it is entirely useless. It is hard to find a pure soul out there, yet… here you are. 

'Me?' you couldn't possibly imagine why you would have anything to do with this. 'I don't understand–'  

'You are at the centre of it all. My sweet sweet little lamb, fresher than fallen snow on a meadow. You are the prime example of what we all could be, a special gift. He sent you to me.' He had been gaining more and more energy and enthusiasm through his speech

'He?' You were starting to feel silly, being able to only respond with more questions and poorly phrased ones at that.

'Vecna,' he breathed out the word in a hush. You had heard him say the name before, but you had never questioned it, figuring it had just been one of the endless characters in his game. Eddie's eyes were bigger than you had ever seen them as he kept on talking passionately. 'He spoke to me, showed me everything. He was the one that made me realise just what a cruel and messed up world this is– and– and I'm not the only one. The people that lived here that died here… You know why they died, don't you? It had all been a part of this plan, you see. A… an offering. They gave their lives subject to a higher power. It was all for a greater cause.

'But they had not meant to die, it all just went so horribly wrong. They didn't know what they were doing, the Creels. But I do! Vecna told me and showed me everything I had to do in order to make this work. I've spent months making sure everything will go right, and you are the key. I need you to do this, y/n. Please.' In the time that you had met Eddie, you had seen a lot of sides to him. You had seen him be happy, sad, angry, tired, hyper, everything between and around it, but this was new. As he spoke to you, he almost seemed desperate. He was shaking with his words, purely out of the need to get his words out, for you to hopefully understand what he was trying to do.

The presence of the cold blade didn't get lost to you anymore, as you could feel it with every breath you took, pressing against your stomach with its flat side. You looked deeply into Eddie's eyes, trying to figure out what his intentions were with it, with you. Surely, he would not actually hurt you? That wasn't him. You could not imagine Eddie, your Eddie, doing such things as your scared mind was conjuring up at the moment. 

'You wanted to help me, didn't you? This would be the most wonderful thing you could ever do for me, y/n. It would be glorious. Just think about it, when it works, the life we will have together. Vecna will show you, help you as well. You just have to let him, let me.' 

Let me guide you, my little lamb. 

Let me help you, my sweetheart. 

Let me use you. 

He needed you. Truly needed you, and only you. You stood there, in your white dress, surrounded by the golden flames of the melting candles, Eddie just far enough not to press his body into yours. As he waited for an answer, maybe bored or nervous, he started tracing the knife over you. The tip of it pinched at your skin, teasing, over your arm up to your collarbone, down your sternum. It had hagged on the strap of the dress, and you had been sure he would have snapped it right off. It would have probably been enough for the whole dress to fall apart. It would pool at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your underwear in front of him. The thought of it should be flooding you with fear, but to your surprise– it excited you. All of it did, in fact. 

'What- what do you need me to do?' You pushed down the lump forming in your throat, but you didn't need much force for it as it dissolved at the sight of Eddie's relieved grin. He kissed the top of your head, the blade in the same hand he brushed your hair with, so you felt the steel at your ear. It made you shiver. You could hear him whisper some more of those little words he always mumbled, still unable to make any sense out of them. Then, he made you leave the circle of candles and walked you to the side of the room, where the symbols were painted onto the wall. It is then that you noticed that the black paint was still wet in spots, freshly applied, but long enough to have already dried up for the most part.

'Give me your hand,' he asked of you, and you eagerly obliged, placing your hand over his palm. But then he pulled that knife up again, and you flinched, which made him visibly upset with a frown. 

'I'm sorry,' you apologised before he had even said anything. 

'I understand, baby, all of this is new, but you have nothing to fear. I'm here, and I've always made sure you're safe, didn't I? Right, so you know you can trust me. Look–' he put up his own hand, flat in front of you, and dragged the sharp knife over the skin, breaking it from the centre of his palm, right to the edge. The blood immediately started to spill out, colouring his pale skin crimson. But what you focused on was how he had not winced, not twitched, barely moved a muscle as the blade penetrated his outer layer. His eyes had been focused on the cut, just to glance up at you momentarily, to ensure you were looking at him. He wiped the knife on his shirt, letting the cut drip out onto the wooden panels of the floor. 'See? It doesn't even hurt.' Then he wiped his hand on his t-shirt, smearing the blood all over it. With the small and shallow cut, it would dry up in a few minutes. There was really nothing to be scared of. Eddie never wanted to hurt you. He just wants what's best for you– what's best for everyone. Just like he had said: restore the world order, make what's wrong right again. 

So, you held your hand out, steady. But as much as you trusted him, you couldn't get yourself to look as he pressed the blade into you. It stung as it moved over your palm. 

'Open your eyes,' Eddie told you. You were greeted with dark red stains on your hand when you did. It was already pooling in the small cup of your manus, dripping between your fingers. It stung as if he had kept on cutting, even though you had heard him put the knife away. It was lying untouched on the set of vintage drawers now. 

Eddie's next words were another request, as he guided your fingers to close in over your palm. 'Squeeze it.' And he pushed your fingers closed. You yelped at the shooting pain that came from it. The indentation splurged for more blood to come out. You saw flashes of white in front of your eyes as Eddie pressed it harder. 

'You see it, don't you?' He asked you eagerly. You nodded, keeping your tears at bay. You didn't want him to see you cry, not when you didn't even mean to. It was just sort of happening. 

Then, Eddie pulled you a step forward, pressing your bloody hand against the wall. This again pulled a wince out of you. It was so sensitive, and he pressed it so hard. He needed the blood to make its mark. He used you like a paintbrush, adding strokes of red over the black, making new symbols out of the already existing ones, finishing what he had started. 

'Look how great this looks. And it could only be you, to make it all work. Only someone as pure and innocent as you has that kind of power.' He had everything prepared in advance, so when he dropped your hand from the wall, he reached for a towel that he had also placed on that dresser earlier. He pressed it into your hand, applying the right kind of pressure this time to hopefully stop the blooding rather than encourage its continuation. He took care of you, just like any other day, showing you that he was still your Eddie after all. There was nothing to be scared of. 

'Is this it?' You looked up at him, the towel still wrapped around your hand. His sympathies peaked through the corners of his lips. 

'Not just yet, baby. There's one more thing, but this we can do together, and I promise you'll enjoy it much more than this.' 

'What is it?' 

'You already started the cleansing process, but we have to show Him that we mean our loyalty, and for that, a sacrifice is needed– just a small one, don't be scared,' he hushed, taking the towel away. 'And don't be nervous. I know you will do well; I made sure of it. That's why we waited. Had to know you would be able to handle it, but you're ready now.' That funny feeling in the pit of your stomach emerged again, covering your body in a flash of heat. It was that frustrating sensation you just could not get rid of that even Eddie could not help you with… but now you were ready. So what the two of you did in his bedroom last Friday… the cycle would be complete. There would be no more torture and pleading for a release. He could bring you to it, finally. 

'You're ready now.' Eddie didn't show it, as he repeated his last words, but he was conflicted about it all. It broke him to see you lose some of that innocence, but it had to be done, and it was an honour that he would be the one to do it. Better him, who understood the value of your purity, rather than some boy who would use you for his own pleasure. In a way, he was doing this to protect you, too. By letting you join him in his venture, he was ensuring safety for you. He would protect you. Vecna will protect you. 

But for this, he actually had to make you his. 

Again, holding your hand, he led you through the room. Avoiding the candles spread out over the floor, he got you to stand next to the bed. Both your hands were sticky with drying blood. The cut still burned when he squeezed at your hand, but neither of you showed any signs of discomfort. 

He wondered if once this was all over, your eyes would still be full of the innocence he was so enamoured by. Would you still look at him with this naive bewilderment, or would he ruin you completely? If so, that would be his sacrifice. He would give up the pleasure of the sight for the sake of the greater good, naturally. 

This would then perhaps be the last time you looked at him this way, so he would have to cherish it to the fullest extent. He let his fingers draw down your face, caressing the soft apples of your cheeks. Finally, his thumb moved over your chin, barely touching your bottom lip. How long he had needed to feel it, touch all of you, but held back. Now he finally could, though. 

Too immersed in his deep brown eyes, you didn't see what was happening around them. You only heard him pull something out of his pocket– material. It was a handkerchief. But not the black skull he would wear often around the school. This one was white, like your dress. However, it was quickly getting tainted by the pink of the last remaining blood that could still transfer from his hands. How you had not noticed it on him before was a bit silly. 

The material was smooth and pleasant to the touch, warm, as Eddie pulled it over your face. The metallic scent of blood wavered over it; no one could tell whether it was his or yours. Eddie tied it behind your head, making sure your eyes were covered, and just like that, you were enveloped in darkness. 

'By taking away one sense,' he whispered into your ear, 'all the others get heightened. It is an experience like no other, to submit yourself to the elements. An honour. Now– ah.' He hadn't even needed to ask you anything, as when his thumb fell over your bottom lip, your mouth immediately parted, like an impulse, to let him enter. He pressed the finger over your tongue and watched you suck on it desperately. This was it—the first touch. Just like that, one simple act had already been enough to corrupt you. 

'Sit down. On your knees. There we go, so good for me.' If he hadn't known better, if he hadn't made sure you never lied to him about what you have or have not done, he wouldn't have assumed you had experience, that you knew exactly what you were doing. That his little lamb was, in fact, just a whore like everyone else. But no, of course, you weren't. He had prepared you for this moment, let out what was only in your nature already. It was the right thing to submit to his touch like this. 

But eventually, after a few seconds, he had to pull his hand away from you. The action came unexpectedly, and you were ready to follow him, even though you couldn't see where he had moved to. You tried your best trying to figure out what was happening, using those other heightened senses to their fullest potential. You could hear the flickering of the flames around you, and the burning smell came with it, which was still not strong enough to cover up the musky scent of Eddie, how the wooden floor dug at your knees, even through the fabric of your dress. And even though you could not see him, you could feel his presence towering over you. 

It didn't matter how much you tried to focus on your surroundings; nothing would have prepared you for Eddie grabbing you by your chin to pull your face up, hollowing your already open mouth into a perfect little O-shape. Next thing you know, you heard a strange noise and felt something wet touch your mouth, spill into it. The sensation made you squirm, no idea what it was that Eddie had just done. You didn't know what to do. 

'C'mon, baby. You know what to do when you have something in your mouth. Swallow.' He shut your mouth with his grip on it, helping you take the spit– because that's what it is, you realised– down your throat. He hummed in satisfaction through your whimpers. 'It's ok, baby. This is all a part of it. Got to get used to each other, it's all bonding.' He wanted to be closer to you, connected, and that idea warmed your heart. The way his hands then brushed over your hair, you nearly mewled into the touch. 

Trying to position him was difficult, as he seemed to walk circles around you, his lips filled with those mysterious words and mumblings again. If you could see now, you would have stared at the ground or the hands you had placed over your lap. His flavour was still in your mouth, and it felt strange, but not in the wrong way.

He had walked another circle around you before stopping at your back. You felt the tension on the dress as he pulled at one of the straps, letting it slide down your shoulder. Then the other. Eddie undid the zipper from behind you as slowly as he had pulled it up the day before in the dressing room. Except for this time, you were not wearing a bra underneath it. It wasn't the kind of dress that would really work with one, you had thought in the morning. It certainly wouldn't look pretty, with the undergarment straps visible, and you wanted to look nice when seeing Eddie… so, that is how you ended up sitting on the floor in this old house, hands on your lap as Eddie pulled the dress off of your top half, revealing your breasts to the hot air.

'So beautiful.' he said, mumbling something under his breath again. 'Absolutely beautiful. He let his hand wander over to your chest, toying with the nipples, taking turns in giving attention to them. To think he was the first person to have the pleasure to touch you like this. To make you arch your back with just a simple pinch– oh, and the sounds that fell from your lips as he pulled at them, he started to feel the constraint of his jeans. Stand up. 

Your legs were already sore from the position you had been sitting in, and they trembled as you got up. The dress fell off your legs, down to the ground as you did. You stepped out of it, accidentally kicking it to the side. A bitter smell erupted from somewhere in the room like the smoke was getting stronger. 

'What is that?'

'Nothing,' Eddie's calm tone had wavered for a moment, or so it seemed his following words were just as smooth and charming as before. 'Nothing you have to worry your pretty little head about. Just, c'mere,' It would have been difficult for you to do that with the blindfold in front of your eyes, but he had reached out with his hands to you.

And then, his lips were on yours. They were chapped as always, feeling a bit rough compared to how soft yours were. He tasted like the cigarettes he smokes when you aren't around, combined with another bitter flavour you couldn't place. It was soo much to take in, your senses all going into overdrive trying to keep up with him. You didn't know what to do with yourself, so you stood still, letting your lips move accordingly to how his did. But he kissed you with such an urgency, such hunger and vigour; you could hardly keep up.

It was messy and left your head spinning, nothing like you had actually expected your first kiss to be, but it was still perfect, as it was with Eddie. 

You were now completely naked, standing in this attic room filled with candles; Eddie was holding on to your sides, kissing your neck. Each time his lips left your skin, it didn't even matter as you could still feel him on you. The trace he left behind was sloppy and needy and seeking out the weak spot on your neck so you could roll your head back in pleasure. All of these feelings were so new to you, so overwhelming, but you understood why Eddie wanted you to wait, why you had to be ready for this… and it was only the beginning. 

Perhaps Eddie got a bit over-excited, for he suddenly picked you up off the ground, hands around your thighs. The suddenness made you scream out. You were utterly disorientated as he took a few stops and then dropped you down onto the bed. It could not have been a drop of more than a foot, but your stomach twisted. The mattress creaked loudly underneath you, but didn't continue as Eddie had not joined you in the bed just yet. So you lay there, waiting for whatever would come next– which was that Eddie had grabbed you by the hand and pulled you across to the head of the bed. A shriek left your lips. It would have been better if he had told you what he would be doing. The constant uncertainty of it all made your brain whirl. 

And then he took your other hand, before you could even say something and gripped both your wrists tightly. 

'Eddie, what–' you felt the cold metal against your skin and the faint clink of something locking. When he released your arms, you wanted to pull them away from what you assumed was the headboard, but you could barely move anymore. 

'Remember those handcuffs that always hang in my room,' Eddie had leaned down beside the bed to be at your level. As you could not see anything, you kept your head straight up, directed at the ceiling. Your breathing got heavier, the constraints confusing you, but Eddie had his reasons. 'It might all get a bit too much for you at a certain point, so this will help you keep grounded. And a physical restraint helps us as a reminder that we should restrict ourselves in indulgences, the things that only break us more. We do not want to get carried away, so this will help, I promise. Just trust me.' He kissed your cheek, which felt wet for some reason. His thumb brushed over the same spot his lips had just met, and then, for a short time that felt like an eternity, there was nothing. Eddie had moved to another part of the room; you could still hear him, walking, shuffling around, mumbling his usual incoherent phrases to himself. You tried to listen to them, finally trying to make out what he was saying, but it was too soft of a whisper that ended too close to his mouth. 

'My little lost sheep has finally found her way,' he said when he came back, the weight on the bed shifted, 'I have done my best guiding you towards this point, y/n, have done anything I could to protect you, to make sure you ended up here, where you belong. Now, you have to tell me, make the final decision– do you want this?' 

'Yes.' You wanted him. He had been gone far too long, and you were already missing his touch. The anticipation was building inside you, coming together at your centre, burning with a need for him. You had thought that hunger and thirst that had been torturing you over the past weeks, the one Eddie had told you to ignore, that it had died down after the little help he had given you, but it was all coming back ten times worse. Something in you was eating you alive, and you couldn't lay still anymore, closing your legs, trying to get some kind of friction from the movement of rubbing them together, trying to find an angle at which some kind of relief would come out. 

'Should have brought something to tie those pretty legs down as well. Stop, please.' He placed his hand over your thigh, rubbing circles over it slowly, 'you're gonna hurt yourself, moving like that.' So, you did stop, both the wiggling of your legs and tugging at the cuffs in frustration. His touch on your leg got rougher as he spread your legs wide open, revealing you to him. 

'Yes, there is no doubt about it, sweetheart. You are ready.' He said voice laced with something that you had never really heard before in Eddie– pure lust. So ready, and he touched you. Right there, between your legs, this time with no panties or jeans to keep you apart, you felt his calloused fingers slide right over your slit. He moved his hand up and down, stroking lightly, and with each lap, he would add a bit more pressure, letting his fingers slip past your folds but not entering you quite yet.  

You moaned; you didn't whimper, mewl or giggle. You moaned out his name. He had broken you now. Unsealed you. He was going to make you his. 

His little lamb. 

His fingers started moving faster, slipping inside you now and then, teasing. But you took it all so well, taking anything he gave you with the most gratitude. It was all so new, so much all at once; even a tease of his fingers was enough to make you see stars. He broke your barrier, broke you; there was no going back now that his fingers were deep inside you. Each time shooting up sparks through your body, letting you revel in it. You pulled at the handcuffs again, not because you needed to get out of them, but because you felt the urge to react somehow, and this was the only thing you could do. Hands tied up in the metal, legs spread out, and hips pushed down by Eddie's grip, you were stuck in a prison of delectation.  

As his fingers continued making you feel ecstatic, he kissed your thighs over and over again. A sweet and haste peppering of his lips at your sensitive skin, hot and needy for both of you. When he pulled his fingers away from you, you could hear a smacking sound, followed by a hum. 

'You know what you taste like, sweetheart?' 

'No?' you could not say that had ever been something you thought about, but now that he had subjected the question, you were eager to find out. 

'You taste like the sweetest nectar,' he kissed your stomach, 'Perfect and pure.' He could not get enough of your authenticity, your unadulterated and untouched body. It still hurt him to think that it would not last much longer, this vestal beauty and glow that seemed to radiate off you, but something so much better would come. Just you wait and see… 

Eddie started repeating his little phrases anew as the kisses continued, and, this time, you could hear his mumbled words more clearly, each syllable emphasised with a breath of hot air against your core. The exact meaning of the words might have escaped you, but it did not stop them from sounding like what it was. A prayer, a blessing, finished with his sigh of "Hail Lord Vecna" in almost a whisper, before delving between your legs and kissing you there passionately. 

The scream had not meant to come out, as the only thing you felt was a foreign pleasure. It was just a heavy shock to the system. Never before had you felt something like that. 

Eddie's tongue pressed deeper into you, dipping at your sweetest spot, licking at your arousal. Before this, the handcuffs had not felt much like a nuisance, but you understood it now. All you wanted to do was to grab Eddie by the hair, pull it, show him how good it made you feel– but it could be distracting. It could pull him out of his concentration, ruin his whole plan, everything he had worked so hard on. 

Yes, he had prepared, as he knew exactly what he was doing, reaching your desired spots, kissing you in a way you never expected a kiss to feel. You were glad he didn't tell you to keep quiet, because it did not seem to be a possible task. Moans kept leaving your mouth constantly.

'Eddie! Oh my–' your eyes rolled back, hips bucked up, which Eddie quickly pushed back down. But, to your horror, he pulled away from you entirely, and if you could see him, you would have seen his eyes, now almost as dark as a starless night, stare at you. 

'It's not me you should be thanking,' he kissed your pelvis before whispering another "hail Lord Vecna". 

'Hail Lord Vecna,' you repeated after him, but much breathier. 

'Yes, good, sweetheart. Say it again, Louder. He will be so happy to hear your voice say his name.' he encouraged. 

'Hail Lord Vecna,' you dared to say it, and Eddie supported it with a new kiss toward your clit. Then, with each repeat of the phrase, he extended it and kissed you longer and deeper until he was back to eating you out completely. 

Hail 

Lord 

Vecna

Not long after, the feeling came back, except ten times harder, as if you had already been circling around it for hours. Again, the knot in your stomach tightened. It was coming closer and closer– 

But Eddie pulled away again, at which you mewled out. 

'No, please, please,' you whined, much to his amusement. Eddie started making his way up again, hands on either side of you, leaving kisses all over your body, his metal necklace chain trailing behind until he reached your lips once more. His chin was wet with your juices, and you could taste yourself on him as he kissed you. A flavour that turned your stomach, but Eddie's hands were still on you, kneading and squeezing at thighs and hips, and then he pulled the blindfold off of you. It was dimly dark in the room, but you still had to get used to the light of the candles. Most of them had already started burning out. 

Eddie hovered above you, the white handkerchief in his mouth before he spat it out next to you. His hair fell down his face, the tips tickling at your collarbone and neck. All you wanted to do was to brush your hair through it, but you couldn't move your arms more than an inch away from the ornate headboard. 

'Eddie,' you whimpered, tugging at the handcuffs again. He just smiled and leaned in to kiss you again. That's when you noticed he had also taken off his clothes. You were both naked, piled on top of each other, in the most intimate and compromising position a person could find themselves in. 

Your heart was beating faster and faster, pushing against your chest, drumming in your ears. This was it. This is what everything had been leading up to. The moment Eddie had been preparing you for. The climax of his plan. 

He kissed you once more, tenderly.

'This might hurt, baby, but it should. It will be a good pain. The best feeling you've ever felt, so don't be scared, ok? It's all going to be ok.' He spoke with his eyes locked on yours; you were dazed and confused, unsure what he was talking about. You had already felt so good, couldn't possibly imagine something that would feel even better. 

But then the pain did come. There where his fingers, and his tongue, had been, and now you felt something stretch you out on the inside. Eddie pushed inside you, ripping you open, stretching you out. 

'Eddie!' You tugged at the handcuffs, but they didn't budge just like before. 

'Shh, this is good. It will be over soon. Trust me. Just trust me,' he repeated as he moved his hips. Moving out of you, but the pain didn't stop. Not when he pushed back into you or when he moved back out. With every thrust, it seemed to get worse, harsher and rougher, the pain not ceasing to stop but instead shooting up your spine. Soon, the tears started to roll down your cheeks again. 

'It's ok, it's all alright,' Eddie whispered, kissing your nose, but he let the tears roll this time, dropping down your ears into your hair and onto the mattress. Just another sign of your loss and what you were willing to give him. How good you were, so willing to give yourself up for the cause. He was so proud, and then your moans returned, and he felt his heart grow twice in size. You looked, sounded, and felt so perfect. 'Yes, that's right. So good. C'mon, baby, doesn't this feel good?' 

'Yes, yes,' you managed to say. The pain had finally receded and slowly turned to the promised pleasure you had been waiting for. The moans were now seeping out of you, body shaking at the force he was taking you with. His lips had made their way down to your breast, kissing at the valley between them, kissing over your pebbled nipples, sucking lightly, stimulating an even higher scream of pleasure from you. He kept on going, hard and fast. 

How right he had been, saying this would be the best feeling you'd ever feel. There was nothing like it than to feel him inside you, stretching you out, hitting at the right places that made your toes curl. He kept this power over you with just his movements, controlling your body with his, giving you so much to respond to. He had prepared, knew what to do to the right reactions out of you, what would please or not, what to do to make it all work. Not much longer now. It was so close, all coming to an end. 

'So beautiful,' his voice was airy but in a lost sense. He was seeking out oxygen as he continued his strikes. Both your breathing started to get heavier; everything was getting hotter and hotter around you. Your stomach tightened, and you remembered what Eddie had told you the first time it happened. 

'Eddie! I- I'm–' what was it that he had called it? You whimpered the words out before it got too much. 'I'm close! Please.' What you were pleading for, you weren't sure. But you had waited so long, so excruciatingly long, you couldn't take it anymore. 

'Wait, baby. Just a bit longer.' He huffed out, his thrusts becoming sloppier. 

'Eddie,' you cried out. How much more could you possibly wait before you would explode? 

'Be good for me. I know you can do it.' You wanted to cry and scream. He had made you wait so long, then said you were ready, just for you to wait even more. When would it finally end? When could you finally gain your euphoric release? 

Was this the sacrifice? This torture he put you under, was it all for the sake of his plan? Would this appeal to Vecna? Your tears and screams as you lost a piece of yourself to him, would that heal the broken part of the world? 

'Hail Lord Vecna,' he grunted with his final juts of the hips. It made your ears ring and your skin rise in goosebumps. And this gravelly coarseness stayed in his voice. 'Come. Come to me.' 

You would follow him anywhere; you knew that. And as he stopped to let his pleasure release into you, you followed right after. Stars were crossing over your shut eyes. You couldn't breathe, move, or do anything but let it all wash over you. A million butterflies fluttered inside you. 

Eddie cursed as he pulled out of you, and you immediately felt empty. It was like a spell had immediately dissolved out of you, and the fatigue took over. 

Just like that, it was over. 

'Here we go,' he breathed out, pulling the chain off his neck, where his guitar pick hung, but now it was also joined by the little key that fits into the handcuff lock. With a click, one cuff opened, then the other, and you were free to let your arms drop to your sides. 

You thought that moving was not an option anymore as you lay in that old bed, staring at the cracks in the wooden ceiling. The muscles in your arms were already souring, only to get even worse by the time the sun would rise again. You'd have to get home, but the idea of just getting up off the mattress was making you tired. Even rolling over to your side to greet Eddie's face was too much at the moment. 

But you could not stay there forever; the candles would burn out entirely soon, shrouding you in darkness and the cold. So, slowly you managed to get up, ignoring how everything seemed to sway around you. Just had to close your eyes for a second. 

You rubbed at your wrists, which were now red and sore from the handcuffs. Eddie had gotten off the bed, too, pulling his shirt over his head as you looked around to see your dress on the floor. The white fabric was covered in red stains. There was no way you could wear this outside now; what would your parents think if they saw the blood?! And maybe, relatively, it wasn't even that big of an amount, but the contrast on the snow white enhanced each drop to an extreme. 

'Eddie,' you gasped, reaching out for the garment, and that is when you noticed the scorch marks underneath. That bitter, smoky smell– it had been your dress burning. You wanted to cry. It was the only thing you had brought with you– your special gift from Eddie nonetheless– and it was now completely destroyed. 'I don't–' 

'Shhh,' he sat back down on the bed, taking your hand in his. The wounds on both of you had stopped bleeding entirely and were closing up, but it still hurt when he dragged his finger along the harsh line. Then, he leaned down and pulled a duffel bag from underneath the bed. It must have been where he had carried everything in. when he opened the bag, you saw a sealed candle, identical to some of the lit, nearly burned up ones around you. But he wasn't pulling the candle out of the bag. Instead, Eddie showed you clothes you recognised all too well. 'I brought these for you in case the dress wouldn't work out after all.' And he handed you the shirt and shorts, both yours, which you had had for years, your favourite until you had lost them, so you thought. Things got misplaced; after all, you could have easily forgotten them once you had been at Eddie's place. 

The fact he had kept them for you and brought them along to this house in case you would need a spare change of clothes… warmed your heart. 

With happy tears threatening to escaper your eyes, you hid your face in the crook of his neck. 

'I'm sorry, Eddie', you mumbled against him, still feeling horrible that his gift to you had been ruined. 

'It's ok, baby. We'll get you a new one.'  He caressed his hand over your back, giving you something to find comfort in. after all, that's all he wanted, for you to be safe and happy. Nothing but the best for his sweet little lamb. Always leading her in the right direction, straying from the dark and the dangerous. 'How about a black, this time? Or a pretty red one?' 

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au #cult eddie munson #eddie munson cult #eddie x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things fanfiction #cult smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #one shot

[readychilledwine]

Small World Pt 2

Summary - After discovering you and Azriel share much more than a mating bond, your relationship grows stronger as tensions between you and your aunt seem to grow higher.

Warnings - implied emotional and mental abuse, second child syndrome in a not good way, we find out Nyx is an asshole, unrequited love, slight smut, use of daddy

A/n - a potentially cliff hanger ending because I haven't decided 100% how this ends

Peep Part 1 Here 💙

Azriel stared at the dress box sitting on Rhysand's desk and nicely folded Illyrian leathers. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn them. The last time he had used a siphon. The leathers were fitted for 7, something Azriel immediately knew would no longer work.

His powers after removing the precious stones had gone wild. His shadows were different now. They were more aware, able to span wider distances, and able to recruit more shadows into his network to join them.

He had spent 5 years alone meditating and learning even more control over them, over what they could do, over how deadly they actually could be.

7 siphons would not be enough.

And he didn't understand how Rhysand did not see that.

He finally spoke, gesturing to the box. "What is this?"

Rhys was settled in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as Cassian stood near the bookshelf to mediate if needed. "We're going to the Court of Nightmares. My daughter's engagement has spread like wildfire, and dear Keir wants to host a party in her honor."

A breathy chuckle left Azriel's lips before he could stop it. "So my fiancée will be dressed like a goddess while I am in leathers at a party to mock us?"

Cassian shifted slightly. "We've always worn leathers to Hewn City, Az. It's to honor our heritage." Rhys just inclined his head to Cassian and nodded. "Y/n wears leathers."

"She has never worn a single set in the 2 years we've been together. There isn't even a set in her closet."

"There's several sets in her closet here," Rhys said quietly. "All set up for pink siphons. 14 of them." Cassian and Azriel couldn't help their chuckles. "Imagine a blonde Illyrian with pink siphons, Azriel, its quite the sight." Rhys smiled fondly, eyes glimmering with pride despite everything. "She's-" he looked up, searching for the perfect word for his daughter. "She's my everything. And I've done a horrible job showing her that."

Azriel sucked in a deep breath. "I won't mediate this, Rhys. This is a you two thing. Not an us three thing."

Azriel knew now why you were estranged from your family. Nyx was their golden child. Constantly praised, admired, in the spotlight. He was, and still is, their reminder of how they had almost died to pass along their love. He could do no wrong, never be wrong, and was treated as such.

You, on the other hand, were the second child. The significantly younger one Nyx learned to plant blame on and watch as you were scolded and seen as "the problem" as you had told him you were now addressed as in Hewn City and Illyria. You had been raised by Ness more than Feyre and Rhys, passed off to them until your powers bloomed at 16, and suddenly your father found you interesting again. With a lack of a spymaster, he exploited you, forcing you to touch people and feel their emotions, when they lied, their stories. Forcing you to live trauma over and over of females clipped in the mountains, of tortured traitors in dungeons, of Nesta's dark phase.

You locked your powers so far away one day, so deep inside you that even you hardly could access them unless you actually wanted to. It had been just before your 18th birthday that happened. And then the fight that sealed the casket happened. Rhys had verbally lashed you. Attacked you for refusing to let him use your "one worth" to keeping his family and court safe.

Your father had said he saw you as useless, and everyone else just stood by watching.

Like they had with Nesta.

Only you were just a child. Not a head strong warrior, a goddess in fae form.

You packed the basics and spent the night on the streets in a dark alley.

Even if you and Rhys magically fixed things, even if you forgave but not forgot, Azriel would never. How you were raised, how you've been treated, it forever will taint his vision of Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx. The abuse they unleashed on you, they'd never make up for.

Rhys nodded, eyes glancing to the doorway as footsteps approached. "I would never ask you to fix my relationship with her when I need to fix my relationship with you as well. I just need you to know I love her. That she will always be my girl."

"You have an odd way of showing her your lo-"

The door opened, and you stepped in, immediately going to Azriel's side and eyeing the box. "Dad. Cassian." You opened the lid and nodded. "Well. At least it's sparkly."

Rhys cocked his head. "You don't like it?"

Azriel watched as you paused. The bond flared with conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, longing. How long had it been since Rhys held you? Since he told you he loved you without you having to earn it. "No, I like it. I just know what this means. You never give me nice things unless Hewn City is involved." The last sentence trailed off quietly, and pain flooded the bond.

Rhys looked down, nodding as he scratched the stubble growing on his face. "I am sorry. I just-"

"Please don't. You never mean it." You grabbed the box. "I will wear it and find jewelry." You turned to Azriel. "Elain would like to speak with you. She said something about a garden you two planned together and how I'll never understand the love you two share. How it breaks bonds and shakes worlds."

The relationship between you and Azriel had been messy since dinner two weeks ago. You two had your first fight over, of course, Elain and her rekindled love, lust, whichever felt appropriate at the moment for Azriel. He ignored the constant letters, the random headache powders, the message coded flowers.

He had reached out to Lucien, asking the male what had happened. According to the new Lord of Day, Elain and he had tried for 5 years, but the damage had been done. Lucien didn't trust Elain, Elain spent most of their time comparing the two of them, and nothing Lucien gave her was enough. He had been the one to reject the bond, and after 7 years, he had found himself heavily involved in a relationship with a now fully fae Vassa and Jurian.

Rhys and Cassian both gave him gentle looks of concern as he held your hand, preventing you from walking away. He stared Rhys in the eyes, doing something he felt Rhysand had never done to prove a point. "I'd rather go home with you, so if you were planning on winnowing, we might as well go together." He picked you.

They watched as all tension left your body, as security eased into your face. "Then let's go home." Azriel grabbed the leathers, nodding to Rhys and Cassian before following you.

Azriel's elbow locked around your neck, hand squeezing your hip as he pinned you below him and continued taking you from behind. You both had no interest in heading to Hewn City, so you had distracted him, walking into your shared bedroom in just a pretty blue silk night gown offering to give your body to him for what he had done, the message he had sent.

You were supposed to be getting ready, but instead, Azriel was growling above you, pumping into you carelessly. Your toes curled at how deep he was hitting, at how good he felt, how good he felt every time. "So close," you whispered. "So fucking close-" You were moaning his name when the knock on the door came.

A shadow rushed to him, curling his ear as he paused. "It's Elain," he muttered. "She's relentless." You whined below him, hips wiggling to get friction back. "Baby,"

"Please," you begged. "It's been weeks, I've been so good, please, daddy."

Azriel felt his cock twitch at the use of the name. He'd longed for a moment to erase the memory of what happened, and you had just given it to him. He felt you moving your hips, doing the best you could while pinned to the mattress to fuck yourself on his cock.

You were his focus, the rest of the world melting away as he heard your moans turning into screams of his name. You sounded so pretty coming for him, crying for him, begging for more for less for everything as oversensitivity took over. You especially looked pretty dripping his seed when he pulled out of you. Once again, he had chosen you.

You two laid there, holding each other until claws came for both of you. Scratching angerly as your mental shields and causing you to bury your head into Azriel's chest. "We need to get ready unless you want him showing up here next," Azriel played with your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. "Let's see how many siphons I blow through."

After 2 sets of siphons being destroyed, you were currently dragging Azriel down the streets of Velaris and to your brother and father's tailor. You knew she'd be able to fit and dress him in seconds and that he'd look every bit handsome as he deserved. You were pissed when you saw he had been gifted Illyrian leathers and not a suit. Your father was out of touch with Azriel. With you.

"Helena," you smiled at the older female. "We need help."

Azriel felt stiff. Staring at the doors of Heen City as a shocked page boy ran to inform Rhys and Feyre of the late arrival. You two were about to upstage them in their own court. The guests of honor arriving late and being introduced after the Lord and his Lady.

You would have upstaged them by yourself anyway, though. Azriel admired you one more time. Rhys had picked well, though you both would never admit it. The dress had a see-through bodice of black lace and floral applicates with thin straps. It led to a satin skirt that was tight and then flared out to your hips. The left leg had a high slit, showing the toned beautiful skin Azriel was begging to cover in his kisses. You had picked a simple necklace, a single tear drop shaped sapphire with matching earring and a matching bracelet. Your ring sat on manicured nails painted a soft shade of pink to white coffin head tips. Heels graced your feet, the red underside flashing when you walked. "Gods, you are stunning," he finally whispered out in a hoarse voice.

"And all yours," you looked at him, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "Forever." Your mask slipped on as the doors opened, a collective gasp ringing through the room over who was on your arm followed by whispers.

Azriel knew this song and dance, walking you into one thousand eyes staring and gawking. He hated seeing you like this as you were ushered to the dance floor. The first dance of the night had been delayed, and the fae were restless.

Once you were centered on the floor, you turned facing him, eyes cold and distant as you disassociated from this place. He placed a hand on your hip, leaving his other to his side where both of your sat.

It was unfair of Feyre and Rhysand to expect you to do this traditional waltz, but you followed Azriel's steps as the music began, that first note echoing in your bones and soul. Your parents had claimed your first dance with your mate. The first true dance you two would ever share, and it had to be done in front of hundreds of fae who spat your direction when the Lord and Lady were busy.

Azriel had decided he hated this side of you. He was studying you like a project. You were a different female down here. Cold, uncaring, forced into this role of the High Lord's daughter.

Did these fae know you took far too much creamer in your coffee?

That you were afraid of storms?

That you only ate fruit pastries because you found chocolate too bitter?

You were Rhysand through and through with that mask on. But inside, inside Azriel knew you carried the very light of what your grandfather built. You were a true dreamer, and you could rattle the very stars themselves if your father would just give you the chance.

If Rhysand would just believe in you.

Azriel decided in that moment what the answer to your happiness was. He'd take you tonight and you two would leave.

Fuck expectations.

Fuck the rules.

Fuck your family.

Azriel would pick you for the third time today, and you two would leave.

He just had to get you through this visit at Hewn City first, and as he watched Elain shatter a champagne flute in her hands, he knew that was going to be a mission all on its own.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish

Azriel-

@elle4404

Small World Taglist-

@amara-moonlight @iimichie @acourtofbatboydreams @justasillylittlegoofyguy @janesalvarerelochanarcheron @hungryforbatboys @sidthedollface2 @hunt1bryce

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x feysands daughter!reader #az x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

[crljhnn]

The older Jefferson

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader

Summary: After Rowley announces that his older (half-)sister, who lives quite far away and has never met the Heffleys, is going to visit him over the break Susan invites his family over for dinner. Her not being what Rodrick expects, he starts crushing, which results in him trying to impress her - failing horribly.

No physical description; No use of y/n

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi, just a quick warning that English isn’t my first language and that this is also the first time I’ve ever written a longer text in English that isn’t a school assignment. I also don’t fully understand Tumblr yet, which makes me honestly a bit anxious to post.

[This and a gender-neutral version are also posted on AO3]

“Why haven't you ever mentioned that you have an older Sister?” Rowley and Greg were sitting on the Heffleys living room floor - Rodrick occupying the whole space on the couch - playing a video game. Well, Greg was. It was a single-player. He promised they would take turns, but by now Rowley had been over for about two and a half hours and hadn’t even had the chance to touch the controller yet. He gave up on asking and settled on just watching about 45 minutes in.

“I talked about her before. Multiple times actually.” That is true. Rowley looks up to his sister a lot “Also, she is technically my Half-Sister. She’s been living with her Dad for longer than I remember. Normally we are the ones flying over to visit during summer break, but she hasn’t visited since she was a little Kid, and after her school schedule finally allowed it, we thought it would be a good idea if she, for a change, came here instead.”

“It sounds like you two get along great!” Mrs. Heffley walked in, holding a laundry basket under one arm while carrying Manny with the other.

“We do! I can’t wait to show her my room and have her around for the entire break! I have so much planned out already, it's gonna be so much fun! Best summer ever!”

“That sounds lovely Rowley, I wish Greg was so excited to hang out with Rodrick, but they just won't get along.” Susan sighed, throwing a pitiful glance at her two oldest, who simultaneously let out a laugh hearing this.”

“Yeah, never gonna happen.” Greg says, “I would rather spend the whole summer in school than voluntarily hang out with this idiot.”

“My Sister is actually around the same age as Rodrick.” Rowley buts in. Greg doesn’t understand how this is relevant, but it probably adds to his mother's yearning for her two oldest sons to get along. Rodrick lets out a laugh hearing that.

“I can’t wait to meet them. Just imagine an older, female version of Rowley. That’s actually fucking hilarious!”.

“Watch your language! Also, I'm sure she is wonderful.” Gregs Mom loosens her lecturing stance, turns around, and smiles at Rowley “I would love to have you and your family over for dinner sometime. It has been a while since I’ve seen your parents and I would love to meet your sister.”

“That sounds great Mrs. Heffley. I will ask my parents as soon as I get home!”

That brings us to about a week later, when the Jefferson family, including their oldest daughter, is standing in front of the Heffleys House, ringing their doorbell.

Rowley has been telling you all about his best friend Greg for years, which made you somewhat excited about finally meeting him. However, you can’t say that the picture your brother painted is entirely positive, finding him rather irritating in many of the stories you were told over time. You aren't too mad though, assuming it is normal for young, teenage boys to act like jerks every once in a while. Not everyone can be such a sweetheart as Rowley. Overall you're glad your brother managed to maintain such a long-lasting friendship.

And then there was Rodrick. You've heard rather interesting stories about him as well. In the beginning, you found those quite amusing, that was until you realized that Rowley was genuinely terrified of him. Not the best first impression someone could make on you. Influenced by seeing your younger sibling grow up to be such a sweet and genuine person you tend to be a bit protective from time to time.

You hear some hushed voices from inside, and you can identify one of them as female, reminding someone to behave. Then the door opens and a woman, who you assume to be Mrs. Heffley, kindly smiles at you. Your suspicion is confirmed a second later when she introduces herself and shoos you into the house, before continuing to greet the rest of your family.

Crossing the threshold you can now see a man standing slightly behind Greg's mother. He introduces himself as Frank, making quite a kind impression on you. Then he leads you into the living room to meet his sons.

The two older ones hardly even notice you at first, too occupied with arguing and rowing with each other.

“Boys!”, their father speaks up, successfully catching their attention. Rather comically their gazes fall from their father to you, their eyes widening and their mouths dropping open. You were not what they expected. While Greg looks just shocked, you would describe Rodricks state as mesmerized.

He recovers fast, pushes Greg off of him, stands up, and puts on what he hopes is a charming smile. Extending his hand he starts to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m-”

At least he tries to.

“Rodrick. I know. My brother has told me one or two rather interesting stories about you”, your smile is sharp. He gulps, his confident smile turning sheepish, cursing Rowley in his head. You are not what he expected and you are definitely not anywhere close to being a female carbon copy of your, in his eyes, embarrassing younger brother.

He normally wouldn’t consider himself the kind of person who has a type, but from now on, if someone asked, he would probably revert to describing you. You were just ethereal, everything about you was attractive to him. The way you walked, talked, and carried yourself, but also your clothing and hairstyle. Your pretty face just rounds up your whole appearance, making you all the more alluring.

He had to get on your good side. While a family dinner, especially with Greg present, may not be the best opportunity, he could ask Rowley to put in a few good words for him. That kid was easily influenced (or intimidated). Still, making the best possible impression over dinner wouldn’t cause any harm either.

You turn to the other boy who has been silently watching the exchange. Now that your attention is on him he starts feeling nervous as well. Your expression, however, turns a bit more friendly.

“And you must be Greg.” he nods. You introduce yourself and lastly say hello to Manny who is sitting on the floor playing with some figurines. By now the others have entered the room, causing Susan to start leading you all to the dining table.

You’re seated between Rowley and Greg, across from Rodrick, which results in quite frequent eye contact. On one side you really want to intimidate him a bit. This could maybe make your brother's life a bit easier, at least for the time being. On the other side, you do want to make some conversation, maybe throw in a bit of (family dinner appropriate) flirting or at least find out if he’s single.

It’s really hard to hold a grudge against someone who is entirely your type.

While you’re conflicted, Rodrick, on the other hand, is sweating. Nervously fidgeting in his seat. You didn’t seem as irritated with him anymore, if the eye contact was anything to go by. Was this his chance to redeem his shitty first impression? He cursed his brain for failing to come up with something cool to say.

Since when is it so hard to talk to girls? Is it getting hotter in here? What impresses girls? What does he normally brag about? His band! That’s it. Now he just has to bring it up somehow. Maybe he can bribe Greg to ask him about it. No, that’s too risky, he can’t count on Greg to not fuck this up. He is just going to casually bring it up ‘I’m in a band by the way, pretty sick huh?’ ‘Do you like music? Cause I’m in a band’ No that’s stupid everyone likes music… ‘Which kind of music do you listen to?’ That’s good, he should bring up the topic of music first, that’s a normal conversation topic. After that step two is to bring up the band. That’s easy, he got this.

Now he just needs to wait till your attention is on him again and then he can smoothly lead the conversation in the desired direction. He has to calm down, he can do it.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m in a band!” He speaks way louder than intended, his voice is squeaky, and in the middle of the sentence he has the most embarrassing voice crack imaginable.

Silence.

The sole attention is now on him. All he hears is Greg's snickering which causes him to kick him under the table.

“Ow!” That was not Greg's leg. He looks up to see you looking at him with a questioning expression.

That’s it. He fucked up. His chances were already low, but he still managed to shrink them even more, making them most likely completely vanish. Great. His ears were ringing, all he can hear is Greg's quiet laughter in the background.

“I'm sorry I didn’t mean to kick you, I-” he starts his apology but loses track of what he is trying to say when he sees your expression change. You're clearly trying to suppress a smile, but it's not working at all.

“You’re adorable.” Rowley chokes on his food, and Greg's laughter abruptly stops

“Rodrick? Adorable?” That’s it. Greg gives up on ever trying to understand girls. How can his stupid older brother embarrass himself like that, then kick the poor girl under the table and still be perceived as adorable by her, especially since she is so much out of his league?

Rodrick however, was still not functioning properly.

“So that band, is its name by any chance Löded Diaper?”

“Yeah.” He is proud of himself for speaking at an appropriate volume without stuttering. “How do yo-”

“I saw your creepy white Van in front of the house. What’s up with that, kidnapping little kids as a side hustle?” You are still smiling, and with your stupid joke you somehow manage to relax the atmosphere a bit, the adults going back to their conversation.

Rodrick too is now smiling, looking at you with an expression you could only describe as lovestruck, even though you just insulted him.

He is contemplating making a joke about how the space in the back could be quite useful for more than just trapping kids but decides against it, fearing to make it awkward again. Getting nervous about taking too much time to come up with an answer he instead lands on “No only kidnapping pretty girls like you.”. As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it, realizing it's in fact not a funny and flirty thing to say, but honestly rather creepy.

At the end of the evening, Rodrick has messed up flirting with you multiple times, however, it’s his luck that you find his desperate attempts to look cool to impress you weirdly endearing. Not that he realizes that. Calling Rodrick confused, questioning why you were still talking to him, would be an understatement.

He certainly doesn’t know how he can have messed up so many times and still end up finding a little note with your number on it in his pullover hood after you left.

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #fem!reader #diary of a wimpy kid #fluff #first meeting #oneshot #x reader #reader insert #fanfic

[lady-ashfade]

Cold & Chill

Day 10 of celebration marathon

Book Percy Jackson x Ares!reader

-£ ask: Can you do, a Percy × Ares!reader, that's kinda actually a mix between Ares and Apollo?You can do with you want with that, I just haven't seen any Ares!reader x Percy, or any good ones at least.

-£ warnings: readers personality being all over the place but what did you expect, reader is a mix between grunge and dark hipster, it’s confusing to explain. Also probably not a “good one” because I couldn’t do everything I wanted to do.

Percy wasn’t the best person when it came to you, he never talked to you before. When he first joined camp he heard your name then that you were a ares kid, and since they wanted to kill him— he decided to let it be.

But the more time he spent around camp he heard your name pop up more. Nothing ever bad which was weird since a lot of people had opinions here.

You were on quests a lot and when you did come back you stayed by your friends. You hung around your siblings sometimes or the apollos kids. From what Percy could tell you were different.

Yes, you had a dark and slightly different palette then the others but you didn’t act like your siblings. everytime he saw you— you looked almost bored.

Safe to say when he did meet you he was even more confused. You had found him outside before dawn leaning against a tree.

“Is a tree softer then your bed?” The smallest hint of mischievous tone in your voice. You still had this calm aura about you.

“Wanted some fresh air.” He stated

“Hmm…Shouldn’t you be in water then? Thought that like, soothes you?” He blinks at you. You really knew who he was was?

“Not all my problems can be solved with water.” He didn’t mean to sound rude but he was tired and wanted to be alone. Luckily you didn’t care.

“That sucks.” You shrug your shoulders and walk away from him with you hands in your pockets without any interest to stay with him.

You had skills with many instrument you touched since they were your interests. Like the drums you used to bring out your anger…and no one interrupted you when you did. Then the guitar which you were skilled as well, playing faster then light itself at times. So you played with the Apollos kids and sometimes camp songs when they wanted.

You did have a way about you that seemed as if you didn’t care about anything. and somehow your ego was high? I mean, a mix of ares and Apollo? You have the biggest ego in the world…maybe it was better you had a chill way about you.

Percy grew a massive crush on you. He admired you so much that he couldn’t help but to blush when he thought of you, or saw you.

He liked that you could kill your opponent easily but didn’t care to hurt them so you took them down as fast as possible and moved on. you held a straight face the whole time. And then how you played a guitar…he couldn’t stop looking at you every time.

After years he never saw you angry, annoyed maybe? But you were ares child so you had his anger.

The way you shouted and grabbed ahold of some poor boy by his shirt. Your veins popped out of your skin and looked like you wanted to kill him.

The boy had interrupted one of your drumming sessions and you were far into it. You didn’t like to show anger so you waited until you could do something about. And when you get angry you stay that way, gods help who pulls you away before you get it out of your system.

He watched clarisse and two others take ahold of your arms and start to drag you away. You twist and shaked to get out of their hold and lunge at the boy who looked so scared until he ran away.

Now he knew how you ares kid.

But he grew to handle your emotions easily when you both started dating.

You might be calm most of the time but boy did you have a death glare when someone threatened him or your friends.

He once saw you reach for a weapon when someone said something mean about a new camper who wanted to play a instrument (it sounded horrible) and don’t get him wrong! He loved when you acted protective over him but you’d take it to far.

He liked it when you’d sit behind him and place his hands on the guitar to try and teach him. Oh, boy did he love that.

He thought the one of the perks of dating you would be that your siblings might lay off him, but even you didn’t at times. You made fun of him (lovingly) about his water powers.

“Aren’t you going to stick up for me?” He crossed his arms.

You popped a chip in your mouth, “I already stopped her from attacking you without a good reason. I’ve done my part”

taglist: @maria699669 @purplerose291 @itzmeme @ravenmedows

#older percy jackson #Percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x male reader #Percy Jackson x fem!reader #Percy Jackson x ares!reader #Percy Jackson x gn!reader #pjo x reader #pjo x you #book percy #book percy jackson

[yikesmary]

Hello

how about idol mingyu hypnotized by reader from the moment he sees her -you can choose where and how they meet- I just mingyu pining over her 💚

HYPNOTIZED — kim mingyu x reader

summary: where you've got seventeen's mingyu hypnotized, and he doesn't mind it one bit.

note: hey everyone🧍‍♀️

I don't know if I'm officially back, I just wanted to post something right before new years since I haven't posted since september and you guys deserve more than that. I might post here and there, but nothing too serious so don't expect me to come back with consistent posts. hope you guys enjoyed this though! <333

"We're going to be late, love!" Mingyu called out from outside of your room and you could practically hear him pace, as if he wasn't the guest of honor and the party couldn't exactly start without him and the other guys.

Dating an Idol wasn't at all like you expected—and you didn't even have any expectations in the first place. You had been introduced by Mingyu by Wonwoo, whom you had known for a couple of years now. Initially, you were a bit wary of going on the date, considering you've heard all kinds of stories from Wonwoo.

However, what won you over was how Wonwoo described Mingyu; 'the human version of a golden retriever'. Now, if anyone else said that, you wouldn't have believed them. However, this was Wonwoo, and the fact that he had said this with the most monotone voice ever and his face as serious as ever, so you just had to meet the guy that got Wonwoo to say such nice things about him.

You then went on one date with Mingyu and many more dates after that, until you guys started dating and eventually moved in together. The relationship wasn't totally public; while fans knew that Mingyu was dating (thanks to Dispatch, who had photographed you guys together, but your face was pretty well hidden), no one knew who he was dating specifically.

You supposed that it was a blessing in disguise that people knew Mingyu was dating but didn't know who it was. Most CARATs were happy that Mingyu had been dating, which you were happy to see since you didn't know how exactly they'd react when news first broke out.

Of course, there were some instances where people tried to sleuth and find out through various methods on who Mingyu was dating, but the two of you knew better and did everything you could in order to hide your relationship.

Those who know about your relationship have commented on how it must be hard dating someone like Mingyu, but you've told them that it was worth it and that you'd do it if it meant staying with Mingyu. Usually, you've said this with Mingyu not around, but the first time he heard it, you swore that he had never looked more in love than that moment.

"The car is waiting for us and— oh," Mingyu started to say, but had interrupted himself as he spotted you, who was fastening your heels.

You stood up and adjusted your dress accordingly, making sure that there were no wrinkles. You opened your mouth to say something, but there was no time as Mingyu quickly moved across your bedroom to you and captured you in a kiss.

Startled, you eventually kissed back once you realized what was happening. To balance yourself, you wrapped your arms around Mingyu's neck, your arms lightly touching his hair. Meanwhile, his hands went around your waist, pulling you closer.

You kiss for a few moments before you realize where you guys weren't, so you pull away. "I thought we were going to be late," you said, a bit breathless at the kissing.

"Did I say that? Now that I think about it, I don't have to attend. There's 13 of us, they wouldn't notice if I was missing," Mingyu said before trying to kiss you again, but you stopped him, making him pout.

"Nope, you've already used that excuse. Remember when you thought you could not attend an award show to spend the day with me and Seungcheol noticed? The guys didn't let that go for a whole month," you scolded him, this time pulling fully away from him.

"I'll take the fall for it, let's just stay home," Mingyu practically begged, but you weren't having it.

"How about the driver?" you countered, moving away in order to get your bag.

"I was going to pay him anyways, and I'll give him a tip or something," he shrugged.

"We're still going,"

As you and Mingyu walked towards the front door, Mingyu albeit walking slightly slower than you since he was sulking, he abruptly blocked the front door, stopping you in your tracks.

"Gyu, we're going to be late, like you said. You can't resort to using your strength to stop us, no matter attractive I think it is," you retorted.

"You think I'm attractive?"

"Of course you are! Look at you!" You exclaimed, gesturing to the entirety of him.

Mingyu blushed but grabbed one of your hands to pull you closer to him. "Did I tell you that you look beautiful today?" He asked, putting your face in between his hands gently, making sure he didn't mess up your make up.

"Just today?" you teased.

"Well, you look beautiful every day. And all the days after that,"

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