#I thought you were supposed to be enlightened | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strawberrysturniolo · 3 months

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DEALER CHRIS WITH BENEFITS EATING SEX CHOCOLATE FIC!!!!

lets trip // dealer!chris

summary: your dealer comes over to smoke, and when you get the munchies, you discover a stash of sex chocolates. oral (male receiving). breeding kink. high sex. dominant chris. friends with benefits.

I’ve been buying weed from him for months now. He was only ever supposed to be my plug, nothing more. I didn’t even think we were capable of being friends above the simple conversations we had over transactions.

It’s not up for debate that this guy is hot as shit. Everyone knows it. He’s known in town for being everyone’s favorite dealer. The guys think he’s cool, and the girls are obsessed with him. I think some girls started smoking just so they could be with him at some point. Some probably expected to take it to the next level and fuck him. That wasn’t my plan at all, but somehow, here I am.

I found about him through my friend. Her boyfriend bought from him, and they helped me connect to Chris when things got hard and I decided to start smoking.

We hit it off from the jump. I was highly attracted to him, but we just seemed to connect in certain ways that I wasn’t expecting.

He just… understood me. He started taking care in me that I don’t think he was planning on developing either. He started watching how much I was buying, questioning my safety, my mental health, everything.

When he first started getting flirty, I didn’t think anything of it. I assumed that’s how he was with every female customer. I thought that was his way of marketing to them and ensuring they would come back to see him. He wants to make money more than he wants to have sex with his customers, shockingly.

He’s a good guy. He’s a little misunderstood. He definitely has a soft spot underneath the metal plates that protect his body.

Me:

out of weed. can i buy some off you?

hot dealer:

Out on deals rn. Won’t get back until late. I can come when I finish if you want. How bad are you out?

Me:

just ran out

hot dealer:

Just? And your already asking for more? Bad girl. Drugs are bad. Unless this is your excuse for me to come see you.

Me:

maybe both. come find out for yourself

hot dealer:

Be there in an hour.

The next hour moved by painfully slow. This is either because I’m waiting to see Chris, or because I’m waiting for weed.

Chris and I have had sex a few times. It’s always great. I’m always left wondering if we should continue or if it’s time to call it quits and stick to our dealer to customer relationship.

I feel sick at the idea of losing him like that.

My apartment door opens two hours later, a voice following.

“Munchkin?” Chris calls out. “Where you at?”

I walk out of my bedroom, peeking my head out first. A smile pulls at my lips without even thinking about it. He does that to me. It’s aggravating.

“What happened to an hour? It’s been two,” I enlighten him on his lateness, wrapping my arms around him as I take in the subtle scent of weed on him.

I sink my head into his shoulder, feeling the warmth radiating off his body from his brown hoodie. He pairs it with a pair of camouflage cargo pants and white Air Force sneakers.

“Has it?” he asks me, playing dumb. He lets out a subtle whine before squeezing me closer. “Missed me that bad, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” I roll my eyes, letting go of him. There’s a loss in me when our bodies disconnect. “How was business today?”

He nods, pursing his lips a little as he thinks. “Not bad. Same as usual. Some stupid kids, other people who think they know more than me. It’s nothing new.”

I open my fridge, grabbing a soda for him, the same routine every time he comes over.

“Hey, I don’t wanna sound like a dick,” he says as he cracks his can open. “I’ve been so fucking busy today, I haven’t eaten. I don’t wanna raid your fridge or anything, but have you eaten? Do you wanna get anything?”

I shake my head. “I ate a bit ago while I was studying. I have to get more groceries anyway, so you can eat whatever you want, if you can find anything.”

“Have I ever told you you’re the best ever?” he grins.

My cheeks flush pink. “Ehhhh, maybe once or twice.”

He presses a kiss to my cheek and says, “Well you are.”

He then proceeds to investigate in my pantry, cabinets, and fridge, pulling out a snack for himself.

“How much did you bring?” I ask him, referring to the weed he owes me.

“Three grams,” he responds through chews.

“How much do I owe you this time?”

He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

I drop my shoulders. “Dude.”

“Don’t fight me on it,” he warns. “You should be glad I’m giving you free weed. Be appreciative.”

“I am appreciative, but I want you to make money.”

He pouts his bottom lip, putting on an act. “That’s so cute you want me to make moneyyyyyy,” he draws out, then relaxes his face to its usual state. “That’s why I fuck with these dumbasses and over charge them. I overcharge the stupid, Munchkin gets free weed,” he explains.

I’m halfway through an eye roll when he says, “You ever tried this shit?” He lets out a little moan at the taste. “If you catch it in your mouth I’ll give you a kiss.”

Without thinking twice, I squat my legs a bit and open my mouth. Chris sends a piece of chocolate through the air, and I catch it on my tongue.

“Atta girl,” he praises. “Good catch.”

“Mmm,” I hum as the taste fills my mouth. “I think this is my roommates chocolate.”

Chris lets out a little wince. “Shit, my bad.”

“No, it’s fine. Like I said, I have to run to the store to get stuff anyway, so I’ll just get her some more. What’s the brand?”

Chris flips the box around to read the label. “Hmm. Good Relations. Kind of a strange chocolate brand. Why didn’t she just get Hershey’s or something?”

Our eyes snap to each others at the same time.

“What’d you say?!” I ask, running over to grab the box from him.

“Why does your roommate leave her sex chocolate in the pantry! Tell her to put the freaky shit in the bedroom!”

“Why are you eating shit without checking labels!”

“I didn’t know it was a sex candy factory in here!” he defends.

“Give me the box.” He tosses the package to me, and I scan the text on the back. “It says it starts working in 20-40 minutes…”

Chris pumps his fist through the air. “SCORE! I’m getting laid and I had some good chocolate.”

“I was just reading the box, you freak!”

Chris lowers his eyebrows at me. “Don’t act like you weren’t expecting me to come over and fuck you after you got your weed.”

I mumble a, “Shut up,” before putting the chocolates back in the pantry.

“So… are we gonna fight the temptation… or are we gonna fuck?”

“Give me my weed and then I’ll think about it.”

Chris frowns as he digs a hand into the pocket of his pants. “So demanding,” he says as he pulls out a bag with a few green trees inside.

“Thank you,” I smile, giving him a quick kiss on his lips before walking to my room.

He groans. “That’s all I get!”

“For now, yeah!” I call back to him over my shoulder. “Come smoke this with me and we’ll see if you get lucky.”

Chris follows me into my room, sitting down in a comfy chair in my room. His ass has imprinted into the material with how much time he spends there.

“Want me to roll for you?” he asks, peeking at me as I grab my essentials.

“Mhm,” I hum, fishing through my drawer. “You do it tighter.”

“Mmm,” he responds, sitting up a bit in the chair. He waits for me to walk back over then says, “Yeah, you know I like my shit tight,” and adds a slap to my ass, grabbing it harshly after.

I pass him a rolling tray along with some paper, watching his every move. I can do this easily, but there’s something so sexy about the way Chris does this. The focus on his face, his scrunched eyebrows, his lip poking out of his mouth, resting over his bottom lip.

His eyes are already bright red, the most beautiful blue shade complimenting them. His beard is almost clean shaven, a light beard growing in, but nothing major.

“You hear me?” he asks, his voice snapping me out of whatever trance I was put in.

“Huh?”

“I said I need a lighter,” he repeats. God knows how many times he’s said it and I wasn’t listening.

“Sorry,” I mumble, tossing him the lighter.

He rests the lighter on his thigh, then presses this thumb to my lips. “Open.”

I do as he says, sucking on his thumb for a moment. He pulls it back out and uses my saliva to seal the joint shut.

He holds the joint up the my lips, and I take it between them, letting him light the end for me.

“So obedient, aren’t you?” he asks me in a low voice.

I say nothing, only nodding as I inhale the smoke entering my mouth.

Maybe it’s the chocolate, or maybe it’s the fact that he knows exactly what to say to get me wound up.

Before I can let the smoke out, his hand grips my jaw, pulling me down to him and attaching our lips. As my mouth parts open, the smoke dances between our mouths, entering his. He sucks in a breath and smiles.

“Tastes even better from your mouth,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my chin, then under my jaw.

I hold the joint front of his face, letting him grab it with his mouth and take it between his fingers next.

“Thank you for my weed,” I whisper, watching him in a daze.

He slouches in the chair, spreading his legs in front of me. “Wanna show me how thankful you are?”

He raises his eyebrows as he tags another drag of the joint, and before I can think twice about it, I’m on my knees, unbuttoning his pants.

“Eager, aren’t you?” he teases. I ignore him and pull his pants down around his knees, bringing his underwear with it.

I don’t know what magic is in those chocolates, but in all the times I’ve seen this man’s dick, it’s clear that it’s different now. He looks bigger, like he’s throbbing so much that his dick had no option but to expand slightly. He’s thick, dark veins decorating the length, while his beet red tip leaks of precum. I swallow at the sight, taking him in.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” he reminds me, but still, this feels different.

“You look so good,” I groan, touching his tip and spreading the precum.

He flinched just at that touch, like it’s already sending him close to the edge. “You wanna make me feel good?” he breathes out.

I nod, spitting a line of saliva down to his dick, spreading it over his length as I lick the other side.

“Oh god,” he sighs. He takes the joint back into his mouth, chasing two highs.

He holds the joint between two fingers, his head tossed back over the top of the chair.

I suck tightly over his tip, his hips bucking up, making me take more of him. His hands hold the back of my head in a messy make-shift ponytail, his jaw slack as I suck more of him. My head starts to bob at a reasonable rhythm, his moans becoming uncontrollable.

“Fuck, that’s it baby,” he smiles lazily. “Such a good girl- Fuck.”

His hips start to meet me halfway, thrusting lightly until his tip hits the back of my throat. I let him do that a few times before a soft gag leaves my mouth, and I take myself off of him, breathing heavily. A line of spit connects my lips and his dick.

“Too much?” he asks, wiping the tears starting to drip down my cheekbones from the pressure in my throat.

“I’m okay,” I nod. “Promise.”

“You’re doing so well. Just keep doing what you’re doing. That chocolate… I can’t hold off much longer.”

I drop my head lower, sucking his balls. He shouts out a string of profanities as his head flies backwards, the hand in my hair tightening. His teeth are clenched together, and he squeezes the joint so tight that it’s nearly flattened.

I spit on his tip again, making sure he’s fully coated before I start sucking his tip again, dropping my mouth halfway down his length and bobbing it back up and down. I stroke the rest of him with one hand while I massage his balls with my other. The sound is insane, the wetness of my mouth on his dick, and the gagging as I take him as deep as I can in my throat. Not to mention his moans that are almost screams of pleasure at this point.

“Fuck!” he yells, gripping the side of the chair as he lets his release fill my mouth. “Shit, shit, shit, ohhhhhh god, baby. Yeah that’s it, take my fucking cock.”

My eyes are full, watering as he forcefully shoved his dick into my throat. I pull off of him slowly with a popping sound before I sit up, smiling at him.

“You’re insane,” he pants, smiling at me as I stand up. He slaps my ass harshly, pulling me closer to him after. He slaps both cheeks again and pulls me down to sit on his lap. He grabs my jaw and kisses me, a sloppy and wet kiss that just shows each other how badly we need more. As soon as I sit myself on his dick, I start grinding on him without a care of my rhythm. I just need a relief.

He reads my mind, wrapping his hands under my ass and scoops me into his arms. He leads us to my bed, tossing me down before he steps out of his underwear and pants, kicking them across the floor. He yanks his sweatshirt off, leaving on a tight black shirt. His hands trace my legs as he strips me of my own clothing, leaving my dripping pussy in his sight as he lowers himself between my thighs.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he says. He places his palm against my folds, feeling how wet I am. “Aw, poor girl. Need my dick in between there, don’t you?”

I nod, whimpering as the slightest touch to my clit has my entire body on fire. I’ve never felt so horny in my life, and I could kill him for not putting his fingers in me soon enough.

“Let me hear your pretty voice, then I’ll give you whatever you want,” he rationalizes, and considering how desperate I am right now, I’ll do anything he wants.

“Please, Chris,” I whine. “Please, please, anything. Just touch me.”

“Mmmm,” he smiles, dragging his plump lips over my clit until I shudder. “Let me hear that pretty voice again.”

Just as the words leave his mouth, he suctions his lips over my clit, pulling upwards and releasing it before spitting back on it. His fingers rub quickly over the bud, his eyes locked on mine.

I grip his arm, my fingers digging into his skin. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel. Tell me how badly you need to be fucked by me.”

“So bad-“

He makes me wince as his hand slaps over my clit.

“Full sentences or you get nothing,” he says through gritted teeth.

“You’re making me feel so good, Chris,” I correct myself. “I want you so- Need you to fuck me.”

“That’s a good girl,” he mumbles, pushing two fingers inside as he pushes my shirt up my chest with the other hand, instructing me to take it off. I peel the fabric over my head, discarding it to the floor. “So wet around my fingers.”

He removes them just after, a cry of desperation leaving my mouth. He sucks he’s fingers clean, then strokes his cock, his chin pressed to his chest and he stares down at himself. He leans forward, slapping his dick against my clit. My legs shake with every hit.

The tip of his dick finds my cunt, and he slips in so easily, like he was made for me. Like he was supposed to fill me up. He wraps one of my legs around his waist as he situates himself, then wraps my other leg around him, burying himself as deep as he could go.

He spit onto his thumb, pressing it onto my clit as he created friction just where I needed him, continuing to thrust himself inside of me.

“That’s it, take it baby. Take it.”

My heels dig into his back, pulling him closer, if it’s possible. His head buries into my neck, removing his fingers from my clit and replacing his hand with the movement of his pelvis, grinding it into me.

As my hands reach up to his back, trying to hold onto him, he grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head.

His breath hits my face as he locks his eyes on mine. He watches every move I make. Every moan that leaves my mouth, he’s right there to inhale it.

“Chris,” I groan, feeling myself tighten around him.

A low moan pulls from deep in his throat. “Just like that baby, I’m gonna cum in you.”

I nod, squeezing his cock with my pussy, watching as his face unfolds with pleasure.

“I’m gonna put a baby in you,” he says. “You’d like that, huh?”

I nod furiously.

“I’m gonna cum in you,” he says. “Watch it all drip out of this perfect pussy. Then I’m gonna pump my fingers in you and force it to stay inside of you.”

“Please,” I whine.

He locks one hand around both my wrists, using his free hand to grip my jaw. “Watch my face when I cum in you.”

Seconds later, his hips thrust at a rapid rate before stilling inside of me as he pumps his cum inside. His slacked jaw causes our lips to brush against each other.

As he pulls out, the last brush of our hips forces my orgasm out of me, my cum dripping out of my pussy along with his.

“Aht aht aht,” he tsks. He takes three fingers and pushes them into me. “Told you to keep this shit inside of you.”

I nod weakly. “I’m sorry.”

He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Mhm.” He lays on his stomach next to me, breathing out a laugh. “We should snoop through her snacks more often.”

Yeah, we fucking should.

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roosterforme · 11 days

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You rendered Bradley speechless and left him wondering if your students were the ones who wanted to know what he looked like or if it was really you who was curious. He wanted to know everything about you, but the urge to ask for more was mingling with his duty to keep things professional. You and he teetered on the edge... until you didn't.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley looking hot

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley found himself homesick in a way he never did before. He still had weeks and weeks of this deployment to go, stuck on the aircraft carrier, endlessly curious about someone he barely knew anything about and a classroom full of kids he'd never met. But he felt like he wanted to know more about you and them.

At least he was too busy now to dwell on the fact that it had been days since the last mail call. He was never one who was lined up, eager to collect something from a loved one. Vanessa and all of his other ex girlfriends never sent him handwritten notes or snacks. He'd gotten sporadic emails in the past, but nothing that made him smile and laugh out loud. Never anything that made him sad when he realized he had reached the end of the note, hoping for more.

He wanted to go back to the lounge and check his email, but he was afraid he'd have nothing new to read. There was really nobody else other than you who would send him anything right now, and he was sure you had something better to do with your time than comment on the photos he'd send of his jet and the engine parts. And even if you had written back, how long could he really keep this conversation with you going? How soon would you run out of interest in his deployment?

Bradley knew he'd be much better at talking to you in person, but how the hell was he supposed to get there? Jesus Christ, you were probably married. You probably already had someone back home wrapped around your fingers, and here he was, still thinking about you.

"Pitiful," he muttered, making his way to the lounge anyway. He would keep it professional with you. One hundred percent. But he still wanted to know if your students got to see the photos and if they had any questions about them.

When he logged into his email account, his heart skipped around a bit when he saw that he had something new from you. Then he opened it up and read it, and his lips parted softly in surprise at what you'd sent.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

Bradley read it again. Still surprised, he read it a third time. Were you the one asking for the photo? It seemed like you might be. Or was he just projecting here? Shit. Maybe. He'd been thinking about how he'd respond if you asked him something personal, and this felt like you and he were teetering right on the edge.

You even echoed his own thoughts, but it still made him warm all over to know that you looked forward to hearing from him. That it made your day better when he sent an email. He decided he was going to keep this going as long as he could.

He logged out again and headed to the mess hall for dinner, because there was no point in responding until he had the photo you just asked him for. One where you'd be able to see exactly what every inch of him looked like. As he ate his meatloaf, his thoughts all settled on that one pertinent question: were your students really the ones who were curious about how he looked, or were you? Because it sounded like it could be the latter. He fucking hoped it was. And he fucking hoped you wouldn't be disappointed after tomorrow when he sent you exactly what was asked of him.

----------------------------

You thought you were ready, but you weren't. Not for this. Not for him. Not even close. Thankfully it was still early enough that none of your students were in the classroom with you, because Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw had responded to your slightly tipsy email from a few nights ago. He sent exactly one photo, and your only response was to softly moan, "Holy hell."

To say he was attractive looking standing there in his flight suit next to the jet with his name on the side of it would have been the understatement of the century. He was hot. Unbelievably hot. Top tier. You shamelessly zoomed in to get an even better look at his face which was complete with a crooked little smile and a fucking mustache.

"Who does he think he is?" you asked the empty room, voice filled with need. "The audacity."

Even his messy, wavy hair looked soft enough for you to want to rub your face and lips against it. Where did that idea come from? You uncrossed and recrossed your legs as the most delightful thoughts filled your mind. You already knew he was sweet, kind, attentive and humble, but now you knew he was easy on the eyes, too. If only you could hear his voice.

After several minutes of uninterrupted gawking, you realized he'd written a few sentences to you as well, addressing you just as he always had. But this felt more personal. Maybe a little intimate.

For reference, I'm 6'1" and 205 pounds. That should give you and your kiddos a good size comparison, yeah? Also, just a little curious myself here.... are you sure they were the only ones who wanted to know what I look like? Or did you want to know, too?

So he called you out. Your whole body felt too hot and too light. You were floating off of your chair even as your heart pounded. You must be two feet in the air by now. He already knew what you looked like, but now you cared more than ever what he thought about you. Because you had a massive crush on your classroom pen pal.

"How embarrassing. You drunk emailed him! How are you supposed to respond to this?" you whispered as you closed your laptop and pressed your fingers to your lips. It was hard to tell if his tone was playful or not. He was smiling in the photo, which made you think that he was. But perhaps he was trying to put a stop to any topic of conversation that could be considered personal.

Then it hit you like a bolt of lightning. No way was this man single. He was handsome. That would have been enough on its own. But he also had an impressive career, all of his hair, and he was tall. And that didn't even scrape the surface of his sweet personality! You couldn't embarrass yourself further. You just couldn't. You wanted him to keep writing to your class, because they were already so attached to him. You couldn't ruin this for them.

When your students came flooding into the room, they led off with the same question they had every morning now. "Did we get anything in the mail from Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"Not yet," you replied, still trying to decide how to respond to his photo. "But hopefully soon. He did email another picture though."

All of them were immediately headed for your desk, wanting to see what their pen pal looked like. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself as you opened up that photo again, and then the kids all interjected into your thoughts.

"His jet is so cool!"

"It's huge!"

"He looks exactly how I thought he would!"

"Can he send us more stuff?"

It took you a good, long while to get them all into their seats. Clearly you weren't the only one who was entranced by him. Their questions overflowed, most of which still had to do with the aviation topics you'd been teaching them. Bradley Bradshaw had turned your classroom upside down, in a good way. And the more you thought about it, the more you just wanted to make sure you weren't missing out on something here. This man was better looking than the last three guys you went out with all combined, and he already made you feel tingly inside before you knew that for a fact.

You went home after work and did it again. You drank some wine and logged into your work email account and wrote back to him less than a day after he wrote to you. Part of you recognized that you'd look desperate, but you simply had to know so you could stop thinking about him if necessary. You started typing.

It was definitely, absolutely my students who wanted to know what you look like. It had nothing to do with me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That being said...nice photo. Very nice.

My kids also wanted me to ask you if your spouse or significant other is in the Navy. And they'd like to know how old your kids are if you have any. Once again, just to be clear, I'm only asking these things on their behalf...

"Send," you whispered, doing it before you could stop yourself. Then you were left with your intrusive thoughts and the rest of the wine, ultimately deciding to just go to bed. He wasn't going to respond right away. He was busy working. You just hoped it didn't take too long.

But it did. Days passed. You normally tried not to think about your work email account during the weekends, let alone check it. Saturday was miserable as you logged in almost hourly to check and double check if you had something new from Lieutenant Bradshaw. It was so bad, you ended up initiating a movie night with some of your friends, opting to lock your phone in the center console of your car rather than take it into the theater.

Sunday was no better. You took yourself to the beach for the afternoon to try to read and sunbathe. But there was a group of guys in US NAVY TOP GUN shirts playing football, and you wondered if Bradley ever did this kind of thing with his friends. Or his family. Jesus Christ, why couldn't he just write back and tell you if he had a pretty wife and six adorable kids who loved to play football on the beach with him?

When two of the guys in the TOP GUN shirts purposely threw the football toward your towel and tried to play it off as an accident, you didn't even feel like returning their flirtatious banter. Neither of them had a mustache or soft looking brown hair. Neither of them left you wanting to know more.

You went home and tried so hard not to check your work email, but you failed miserably. But then you were happy you caved, because he wrote back. Bradley Bradshaw actually responded again. And a few seconds later, you were giggling and trying to control the squeal that escaped your lips.

When the mail arrived on the aircraft carrier yesterday, I was one of the first officers in line, and I wasn't disappointed. I got the second box from your class, and I can't wait to start reading and responding to everyone's notes this week. I'll let you know when you've got more mail coming your way.

Since your students seem to be showing quite an interest in my personal life, please let them know I actually don't have a spouse or significant other at all. Nor do I have any kids. Their letters (and your emails, too) are the only ones I'm getting this deployment. No one else has been writing to me. Nobody stateside is waiting for me. I hope that answers their questions to your liking.

And now it's your turn to answer a question for me. Is there a guy in your life who is going to try to beat the crap out of me if I tell you that I think you're gorgeous?

I'll just be waiting impatiently for your response.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

----------------------------

Bradley was so tired. The kind of bone deep exhaustion that only comes after the completion of a dangerous mission when your adrenaline finally wears off. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to be back at home in his bed in San Diego with a soft, warm body next to his and a sweet voice in his ear. But he was picturing your face and your body, already convinced you'd have the sweetest voice he'd ever heard.

Shit. He needed to focus on what the admirals had to say instead of drift into daydreams.

"No need to report to the strategy room in the morning, Lieutenant," his commanding officer said as Bradley unzipped the top of his flight suit. "Take some time to rest."

He saluted the admiral and walked off toward his bunk and a hot shower. But even as the steamy water eased the ache in his muscles, he thought about how he already knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right now. Not when he still had a few messages from your students to respond to. Not when those notes always made him smile.

This time you'd only included a very short note in the box, but it wasn't typed up and printed out. It was written in your pretty penmanship on a sheet of lined paper.

Lt Bradshaw,

I hope this package finds you well. Please prepare yourself for approximately seven hundred more questions. Thanks again for sharing your time with us.

He didn't mind one bit. In all actuality, he was living for this shit, already thinking about how he could maybe visit your classroom someday soon. Several of the kids asked him if he could. They all asked him to take more pictures of life on the aircraft carrier. Then he laughed for a solid minute over the photo that Jayden sent of his Cocker Spaniel named Vanessa.

But Bradley had purposely been neglecting his email inbox for the last few days. He was too afraid to read your words telling him that you were in fact taken, and that he was stupid for thinking you'd been the one who wanted to know what he looked like. He was rather enjoying the delusion that you might let him tell you how pretty he thought you were over email and maybe someday in person. He decided to respond to the rest of the notes in the box before getting rejected, otherwise it would be too hard to do this.

He finished writing back to Oliver and Cooper and then tucked the box away under his bed before drifting off to sleep while dreaming of his own bed. But the next day, he had literally no work to do. He's been given the entire day off. He hit the gym and avoided the married woman like the plague. Then he ate lunch and contemplated going back to the gym again, but his feet carried him to the lounge instead. At the very least, he promised you that he'd let you know when you had mail on the way so the kids could get excited. He should take the time to tell you he'd be sending more responses to your class by air mail.

Somehow Bradley had convinced himself so thoroughly that you were in a relationship, he almost couldn't fathom anything else. But there was a new message from you in his inbox, and it felt like a gift when he opened and read it.

Lt Bradshaw,

I must say, I was surprised to find out that my emails and the letters from my class are the only ones making their way to you. Not that I'm complaining. Not one bit. I just find it hard to believe that you don't have a lot of interested parties hoping for a chance to be the one you think about when you're deployed and all alone.

My last boyfriend didn't like it when I talked about my fourth graders. He didn't really see any value in what I do for a living. He would have never taken the time to read something they wrote let alone answer their questions individually. So no, there's nobody who would be upset with you for making me feel like there are butterflies permanently living in my belly now. If you want to tell me you think I'm gorgeous, I'm certainly not going to stop you.

Here's my personal, non school affiliated email address. Just in case you feel like using it. If not, you can keep responding here, and I can take the hint that we went far enough.

I hope you're doing well and staying safe.

Frantically, Bradley checked the date and time stamp. "Fuck," he growled, his fingers not quite able to keep up with his brain when he realized you'd sent this to him days ago. More than five days ago! "Shit. Fuck!" He had been keeping you waiting! As soon as he got his hands working at the same speed as his thoughts, he copied and pasted your personal email address and started a new thread like his life depended on it.

----------------------------

You were just curling up with a cup of sleepy time tea after a long day at work, wishing someone would put you out of your misery, when your phone vibrated on the couch cushion next to your leg. You were half tempted to ignore it, reasoning that it was probably time to accept the fact that Bradley Bradshaw already lost interest in you and delete his photos from your downloads folder. You should learn how to stop embarrassing yourself.

Then you glanced down and saw that you had a new email. It was from a now familiar sender. It had been sent to your personal account. You immediately scrambled to unlock your phone and read it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'd like to take it further.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

-------------------------------

What the fuck, Bradley, you smooth man! Take it further, take it further, take it further! I love how impatient they get when they want to hear from each other. Now go ahead and get a little more personal. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who sent me messages and asks about this fic.

PART 4

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mysteryshoptls · 7 months

Text

SSR Rollo Flamme - Student Council President Robes Voice Lines

When Summoned: There can never be a world in which villains prosper. It is my duty to bring about a just world.

Summon Line: I am Rollo Flamme from Noble Bell College. Hmph... Much obliged for your hospitality for this short while.

Groooovy!!: Just as the Righteous Judge would, allow me to impart upon you proper virtuous behaviour.

Home: Pardon me.

Home Idle 1: This is the infamous Night Raven College... Honestly, I would have preferred not to step foot here.

Home Idle 2: Beyond this mirror is the Diasomnia dormitory. That is where that detestable man resides... What a monstrous-looking entrance. Absolutely repulsive!

Home Idle 3: This is a rather dignified academy. In particular, I found the Mirror Chamber to be a quiet, charming, and spectacular room.

Home Idle - Login: So, this is where the evildoers dwell. I shall have to see with my own eyes just how wicked these people can be.

Home Idle - Groovy: I hear they call you Prefect. That is a rather reputable position. Do take care to fulfill your duty to your utmost.

Home Tap 1: It was brought to my attention that Azul-kun manages a small eatery on campus. I do so enjoy cafés. I suppose I could stop by just once.

Home Tap 2: Whilst classes were in session, I could swear I heard a voice coming from an electronic tablet. I realized it was Idia-kun. Does not that laziness seem beyond reproach?

Home Tap 3: Mheh, as expected of a prestigious academy, the quality of these lessons are superb. I find Mozus-sensei's lectures to be especially enlightening.

Home Tap 4: The collection of books here in the library is genuinely substantial. Perhaps I could borrow and take some back with... No, if I were to do that, I would have to come back to return them.

Home Tap 5: ...May I help you? Ah, I see. You were acting quite familiar with me, so I thought perhaps you had mistaken me for someone else.

Home Tap - Groovy: Noble Bell College does not adhere to the concept of separating students into dormitories. But for there to be a Ramshackle dormitory... What a mighty pitiful name.

Duo: [ROLLO]: Grim-kun, you should do as I say. [GRIM]: Rollo, don't you be orderin' me around!

Requested by @raven-at-the-writing-desk.

#twisted wonderland #twst #rollo flamme #twst rollo #twst grim #twst translation #twst glorious masquerade #mention: malleus #mention: azul #mention: idia #mention: trein

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lokis-army-77 · 8 months

Text

Live from Hawkins

Older!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Eddie watched as you are stood up on a date and without a second thought, he brings you home.

Warning: 18+. Eddie is in his late 50s to early 60s, reader is 20s to early 30s. p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, pet names, a few spanks, fingering, mention of a partner having died.

A/n: Thank you @munson-blurbs for hyping me up to write this and for thinking of the funny little thing that happens at the end hehe, I love you <3 also my version older!eddie is inspired by @ farmerusedto on tiktok and Instagram.

Masterlist Part 2

The fun of nightlife had escaped Eddie when his biological clock started making him go to bed at 8:30 p.m. instead of 2 a.m., but tonight was an exception. After an extraordinarily shitty day, he thought a drink or two at his old haunt would cheer him up. It didn’t, not entirely. The whisky he had been nursing tasted like shit and the crowd in the bar left little to be desired, except for you.

Eddie had clocked you when you entered the establishment at eight on the dot. His eyes raked over the pretty silky red dress that stuck to the curves of your body as you made your way to a tiny circular table with two chairs and sat down. Your head was held high as you watched the front door.

Ah, a date, He thought. Then he began thinking about all the dates he had been on in the long past years until he had met his wife, and then the lack thereof after her passing twenty-some years ago. He’s never had time to date. Raising kids two kids as a single dad while also being a simi-successful musician turned producer, looking for romance added a whole new thing to worry about so he just didn’t, but now, in his later years of life, with his children grown and moved out, he could afford the chance to indulge. Sadly though, you were apparently taken.

Even after he had finished his one glass of alcohol, he waited. Watching you as your posture slowly became slouched, you sipped on some fancy beverage, and your head stopped peaking up when the bell to the door chimed as it was opened and closed. You were beautiful and didn’t deserve to be stood up.

When the clock struck nine, Eddie stretched his aching joints and stood from the bar. Sauntering his way over to your tiny table.

“This seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the back of the chair.

You lifted your head from your phone startled and shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. You can take it.” Sighing, you look back down at your phone, expecting him to take the lone chair and pull it up to another table. To your surprise, he actually sat down in front of you. “Um… can I help you?”

“Sorry, I just saw you sitting here by yourself for a while and thought you might like the company. A pretty girl like you in a pretty dress like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in a bar like this, some weirdo could show up.”

You blush, almost as red as your dress. “And how do I know you aren’t the weirdo?”

“Good question. You don’t.” He laughed.

The deep timber of it had your stomach flipping. His facial features were hidden under a nicely kept beard, full of salt and pepper hairs, more salt than anything else. The shaggy, slightly curly hair atop his head looked the same. He was definitely older than you by a couple of decades, but hey he was nice looking and obviously, the guy you were supposed to be seeing wasn’t coming. What harm could come from flirting with this guy?

“But hey, a bit of mystery can be a good thing, don’t you think?” He asks.

You can't help the giggle that passes your lips. “Oh, really?” You look him up and down. His outfit was something reminiscent of the eighties, only more subdued. Tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and an Iron Maiden shirt that had been ripped at the hem. Before he had sat down you even spotted a black and white skull bandana in his back pocket. “I’ve heard that with age comes wisdom. Are you here to enlighten me then?”

He lets out a more hearty laugh this time, his head falling back. Your eyes scan the contours of his neck and watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down. “I don’t know about wisdom, but I do have a few decades under my belt. Maybe I was the one hoping to learn a little thing or two from such a charming young lady as yourself.

Your hand lifts to cover your smile and you look away almost bashfully. “Such a smooth talker aren’t you?”

“As smooth as I can be…” He leans forward, hand resting on the table, fingers laced together. You see the many rings decorating them. The flip in your stomach drops and you clench your thighs together. “Why? Is my charm winning you over?”

“So that’s what you’re trying to do, huh?” You smile.

“Well, it was either that or all the vintage dad jokes I know.” He smiles back.

You can feel your mood being lifted from the once sour thing that it was into something more bubbly as you listen to him. “Vintage dad jokes? Sound’s intriguing. Maybe I’ll stick around for now.”

He nods. “That’s a good choice Sweetheart. Who could resist the allure of outdated humor and a bit of gray hair?” His hand tugs at his beard.

“You know, I could be out having an adventure with the guy I was supposed to be meeting here instead of chatting with a silver fox.” There is a permanent grin etched into your face as he gasps in faux offense.

“You wound me, Sugar. Isn’t it usually the unexpected adventures that turn into something unforgettable?” Eddie couldn’t lie to himself, he was laying it on pretty thick, but it was all in hopes that maybe, just maybe you might come home with him.

“Well, I do have to admit you are intriguing, maybe I’ll take you up on this adventure.” It was childish, the way your heel-clad foot slid its way past the single, center leg of the table and halfway up the man’s calf.

When he feels your foot rubbing on him, he has to steel his face. One of his hands slipped from the table and slithered its way down his leg and caught your foot. “What do you say we get out of here?” His hands were so big and his fingers so long that they wrapped with ease around your ankle. The pads of his fingers pressed in gently and you hoped he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse were thumping throughout your body.

Your mouth suddenly turned dry, words evaded you. All you could do was nod in response. He let go of your foot and stood, reaching out his hand. You take it and he pulls you up as well. “My name’s Eddie by the way.”

…

The drive to Eddie’s suburban home was filled with chase touches and lingering hands. His large palm warmed your thigh, his fingers dug into the plushness there. You cozied up to him, lips trailing up his neck to his ear where you nibbled on the lobe.

Eddie groaned as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat when you inched a delicate hand into his lap.

“Now, little girl, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” He chided. His hand on your thigh moved ever closer to the already high hem of your dress.

“Little girl?” you whisper into his ear. “I’m not a little girl, old man.”

You feel every bump and jerk of his 1960s Ford pickup as he practically jumps the curb and slams the brakes in his driveway, screeching to a halt. Eddie unfastened his seatbelt and turned to you. His hand immediately found purchase on the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and his beard tickled. You giggled into the kiss but that was cut short when they turned to gasps as soon as Eddie caressed his tongue into your mouth.

“Eddie…” You moan into him, fingers latched onto his shirt, pulling him into you.

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He pulled away from the kiss.

You looked him in his eyes, the street lamp outside aiding in deepening their already dark hue. “Touch me. Need you to touch me.”

He smirked. “Alright baby, I’ll touch you.”

Then, he backed away, hooking you from himself and slipping out the door. A pout worked its way onto your features as he walked around and opened your door. Tisking he shook his head. “What’s the frown for sugar?”

You took his outstretched hand, he was ever the gentleman. “You stopped kissing me.”

Leaning down he gave you a sloppy peck on the lips. “Well, I can't touch you how you want, Sweetheart, unless we go inside.” He chortled as he guided you to his front door. As soon as the lock was undone and the knob twisted, you pushed the two of you inside. You were hot and worked up and needed something to help the pounding ache that had made itself known between your thighs.

Inside, you try your best to tug Eddie’s shirt up and over his head but he is quick to catch your hands, pushing you back against the wall and holding them above your head.

“Not so fast. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want.”

You shake your head in defiance. You knew where this was going from the way he gripped your wrists. From the way his voice became stricter, more dominant. Need pools in the pit of your stomach. This was what you had been craving, what no other man could make you feel.

“Please.” Your plea comes out just above a whisper.

“Tsk, Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that.” Eddie maneuvers both your wrists into the hold of one hand while he lets the fingers of his other run down the open skin of your neck tantalizingly slowly. Goosebumps begin to prickle on your skin as the fingers wander down your chest and over the tops of your breasts, cleavage on display, heaving as you take sharp breaths of air.

“Please, Eddie.” Voice cracking. “Please, I want you. I want you to touch me, I want to feel you.”

He groans, hips pressing you to the wall harder. “What a good girl you are.” He captures your lips in another heated kiss.

The night had barely begun and you already felt like you were drowning in him. The scent of menthol cigarettes, whisky, and something almost woody filled your nose and all you could think of was the man pinning you to the wall.

A staggered gasp caught in your throat when Eddie dropped your wrists and heaved you up by the waist. Your legs cinched around him and his arms held you close. “Why don’t we take this to my room? I can put some nice mood music on.” He kissed up your neck as he carried you through his home.

“Mood music, hum?” You whimper when he sucks on a sensitive spot. “What, gonna play the Temptations greatest hits? Or how about the Chordettes? Don’t they have that song with your name in it?”

You yelp when his hand smacks your ass. “M’not that old, Sweetheart. It’s more like eighties rock ballads but that’s not what I’m choosing.” The smirk that contoured his lips was wicked.

“Mmm, and how old are you?” You ask, words muffled by your lips meeting his.

“Old enough.” Eddie pushes his door open and it hits the wall with a thud. He walks to his bed in the darkness and practically throws you on top of the sheets. He doesn’t follow, instead, he flips the bedside lamp on and the room fills with a soft yellow light.

His room isn’t what you thought it would be. It's all dark colors, blacks and grays. Three electric guitars hang like decorations on the wall in front of you. A few picture frames are scattered over the dresser to your left, too far to see the images clearly in the dim light. You watch him like a hawk as he walks to that very dresser and turns on a speaker.

He really wasn’t kidding about the mood music. You think.

“Get comfortable Sugar… Just got to figure out this damn phone.” You chuckle as you watch him fiddle with the touchscreen and cheer when the music fills the silence. You laugh even louder when Eddie fumbles the phone in his hands and drops it to the floor. “Shit.” He bends down to pick it up and when he does he props it against the mirror of the dresser.

“Is it okay?” You ask, hand covering the giant smile plastered on your face.

“It’ll live.” He shakes his head. When the giggles die down, he slowly comes toward you, crawling up the bed. The way his hands travel up your bare legs gives you chills. He pries you open gently, your dress hikes up your thighs, and the wetness of your pussy is on full display.

“Well, aren’t you a naughty girl… No panties?” He asks, hot breath on the inside of your thigh as he nips at the skin.

You shake your head as you explain. “No, not wearing a bra either. You can see the outline through the dress”

He grins a devilish grin and slowly teases his way up your thigh. The hot air from his breath caresses your skin white his beard tickles you. He pushes back your dress a little more before looking you in the eyes. “Ready?”

The whine that comes from you is almost unrecognizable, all desperate and needy when his mouth attaches itself to your pretty cunt. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his silky hair between stiff fingers.

“Fuck. E-Eddie.” You rasp. He hums the vibrations add to the cacophony of pleasurable feelings between your legs.

Eddie’s tongue rolls along your folds, wetting every inch of skin. The gentle sucks he performs on your clit pull moan after moan from you. Your back arches and your hips push down into the bed. Eddie’s hands push your thighs farther apart, the plush of them pooling through his spread fingers.

He loves the feel of you. Loves that he can make you writhe under him with just his tongue. His ego is through the roof, having not been this intimate with someone in years.

It's been all but a few minutes, to you its been hours, Eddie is expertly working you up up up and to the edge. One hand smoothes down your leg and under his chin. You feel the subtle touches of his fingers as they linger around your cunt. His other hand pushes your leg back more, creating more room. You heave a cry when two fingers breach you, stretching you out at a leisurely pace.

In and out, in and out, in and out he went, fucking you deeply with those long thick fingers of his, covered in rings. The metal soon became warm as they began to be covered in your slickness and his spit that dribbled down to meet them.

With the way his fingers pushed up into your walls, poking the fire in your belly. The ember that it once was, was not a full-on flame. It was wild and hot and needed something more to feed on.

“Eddie!” You cried, clamping down around him. Body ridged, ready to let go.

“That’s right baby, say my fucking name.” He pulled back only to reattach to your clit and pump his fingers tenfold.

His words were tender to the flame, making it rage out of control. “Eddie!” You cried again, wonton moans following as you feel the fire spreading. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant like a prayer.

He’s greedy as he laps up every ounce of your release, you have to push him away gently, too sensitive for him to keep going but the crooked smirk he gives you as he kisses up your body tells you he wants more.

Your breathing is rapid as you come down. Your legs feel like jello and you’re hot, super hot. The fire in your veins had rekindled and the dress, conforming to your body, was becoming uncomfortable in the heat.

Eddie can see the way you tug at the garment and gives it a tug of his own. “I hate to see this little number go but I need to see all of you.” He manhandles you onto your stomach, snatching the tiny red zipper and pulling it down to reveal the soft skin of your back.

His hands rub into your muscles, thumbs catching on knots and smoothing them out. It was intimate, something you had never experienced in a one-night stand. He removed the tiny straps from your shoulders and kneaded until you were sighing contently into his sheets. Lower and lower he went, tugging the fabric with him and eventually taking it off, throwing it into the abyss. Rough fingers squeezed at the fat of your ass.

Unknowingly, Eddie had bent down, and as he was massaging you bit down playfully on your ass cheek. A weak squeal erupts from your throat. “Eddie, what are you doing?”

“I can’t help it if you look good enough to eat.” He bites down again and you buck your hips back. A hand quickly smacks down on your ass. “Quit being a brat. First not asking for what you want and now this? What am I going to do with you?” Condescension drips thickly from his words.

You wiggle your hips in his grasp. “M’sorry.”

Another smack. “I’m sorry what?”

The fire burns brighter with this fuel.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He spanks you a third time. “Try again, baby.”

Your stomach flips. “I’m sorry… Sir.”

He hums in satisfaction. His hands wrap around you and pull you to your knees, ass in the air. With your head buried in the covers, you can only guess what he’s doing by the subtle movements behind you.

Eddie has taken his shirt off and unzipped his pants. His cock achingly hard and straining against his black boxers. “Gonna fuck this pussy good, baby.” You whimper in response. He shickers, “You like that, Sweetheart? You want my cock in that pretty pussy of yours?”

“Please,” You mewl, aching to finally have him inside you. The roughness of his hand steadies you as he inches closer. His hard cock on the other hand. He presses it against your folds, the head slipping through easily. You release a shaky breath when he nudges your clit. “Need you inside, please Sir.”

“Gonna give it to you baby,” Eddie replies, pushing into you. His breathing shudders at the warmth surrounding him. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, sucking him in and not letting him go.

He feels amazing stretching you out. He's bigger than you thought, wider. The tip pushes into your walls as he begins to thrust into you, the most wonderful grunts and growls filling your ears from behind.

"So fucking tight, Sugar." Eddie fucks into you at a hard brushing pace with stamina you didn't know he had. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there will be visible marks there later but you don't mind.

You turn your head slightly and look over your shoulder as best you can. Eddie has a wild look in his eye, streaks of gray hair falling into his face. Your eyes catch on the plethora of ink etching his skin. You had seen the ones covering his arms but you couldn't have imagined this. Your mind wandered to what the rest of his body looked like. We're there more pieces yet to be seen or did alabaster skin win out as you go further down his body? The thought of seeing the rest of him has you bouncing your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust with fervor.

The fire Eddie had lit within you was once again roaring out of control. The way his cock filled you deep has you shaking in delight.

"More, more, more," you called out to him, fists clamping down onto his sheets so hard it was a wonder you hadn't ripped them.

“More? Is that what you want?” He patronizes. His right hand moves from your hip and he bends forward, snatching your hair up at the base of your skull. The dull throb that accompanies his tight hold has you wailing. Your stomach flips and flips, pressure building up. You’re going to cum and you tell him as much.

“Please, keep going Eddie, fuck. Keep going, I’m gonna cum, Sir.” Big blubbery tears have started to streak down your face, once pristine makeup now smeared.

He pulls on your hair. ‘Don’t cum baby. Wanna watch that pretty face as you cum on my cock.”

Eddie pulls out of you and it feels like forever until you are flipped onto your back and he inserts himself back inside. The new angle has your legs clamping shut around him and the head of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot which makes you keen into him.

You make eye contact with him, his gaze is feral. He’s looking at you like you’re a buffet laid out for him. His hips rock into you with such force that your body is slowly jerking up the bed. You reach out for him, hands open and close, needing to have him close to you. That fire is still burning within you and it is scorching.

Eddie leans into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your nails dragging long scratches down his pecks and stomach. He catches one, entwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hand back into the mattress. Another intimate moment that had butterflies erupting alongside your fire.

“Please,” you whimper. “Wanna cum so bad.”

He leans down more, pressing a chased kiss on your lips. “Alright Sweet girl, you can cum.”

When you let go, Eddie can’t help the absolutely hedonistic moan that comes forward. He’s rutting into your constricting cunt like an animal. The look of absolute ecstasy that washes over your face had him fighting off his own release.

“Where do you want it, Baby? Where do you want my cum?”

It’s absolutely crazy, the place that comes to mind, but some deep, dark, nefarious place inside you wants it so badly. Craves is.

Without thinking, brain foggy with a greediness only comparable to the deadly sin itself, you blurt, “Inside.”

Eddie’s hips stutter and his mind goes blank. Inside? Fuck, She wants it inside. He groans, fighting himself. He shouldn’t but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Thoughts of what your pussy would look like leaking his cum have him going ridged, his conscience losing out against a primal need he didn’t know he had.

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck ah!” He’s a moaning mess when he finally gives in and lets himself cum.

You can feel his release as a warmth spreads out from your tummy and envelopes you. Eddie falls careful not to let all of his weight squish you. His kisses make you giggle as you try and catch your breath.

You’re exhausted, warn out in a way you never have been. “Thank you,” you say, kissing him back. He looked at you with soft, round eyes.

“Why are you thanking me, Sweetheart?”

You sigh, content. “You saved me from a night of wallowing in my self-pity.”

He shakes his head. “Beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated right, that guy’s a bastard.”

“Tha-” You’re cut off by the loud ringing of his phone, still connected to the speaker. Eddie cringes at the volume and turns slightly to eye the phone but does not move to get up. It stops ringing a moment after.

“I think I should get going…” You whisper and give him another kiss.

“Mmm, you could stay the night. I can take you back to your car tomorrow.”

You pout at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Sweetheart, I’m asking you to stay, you aren't imposing on anything.”

You giggle and go to answer but you are interrupted by his phone ringing again. Eddie says quietly, “What the hell?” before pulling himself out of you. He hesitates a moment, watching as his cum leaks past the puffy, used lips of your cunt, then grabs at his phone.

‘HARRINGTON’ Is flashing across the screen.

“What do you want man? I’m in the middle of something.”

Eddie still has his phone connected to the speaker and the next few sentences make Your smile fall and your face bloom into a heat that could rival the sun.

“Oh, I know you are. Half the fucking world does you dipshit!”

“Wow okay Steve, calm down. No need for name-calling.”

“Eddie I swear to god, do you know what you’ve just done?”

“No…?” Eddie scratches his head, looking at you and shrugging his shoulders.

“You just fucking broadcasted you having fucking sex LIVE on fucking Facebook!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #older!eddie munson

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borninwinter81 · 4 months

Text

William Blake - an introduction for Good Omens fans

I have sent @neil-gaiman an ask regarding his feelings toward the poet/artist William Blake a couple of times, but no doubt due to the size of the poor man's inbox I haven't received a response. So I did a Google search to see if he's spoken about Blake before, and it did indeed come up with a fair few hits. I think you might enjoy seeing this Twitter post if you haven't already, the painting is from William Blake's illustrations to Paradise Lost.

It's not surprising that an author like Neil Gaiman might have an interest in Blake. A visionary from a young age, his imagination was such that he was surrounded by angels made visible in his mind's eye, and he interpreted these visions through poetry, painting and engraving, and self-printed and published many of his own works. This gave him complete freedom to say exactly what he wanted.

Though he had a passionate faith in God, he also had a deep distrust of the church as an institution, and disliked the use of religion as a means of control. This poem from "Songs of Experience" perhaps summarises his feelings best:

"I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;

So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,

That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars, my joys & desires."

In his poetry there is often an incongruity with the generally accepted religious ideas of what is good and evil, Angel and Demon. In The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (there's a title that should make any GO fan sit up and pay attention) he tells us that "in the book of Job, Milton's Messiah is called Satan", signifying that he feels it is Lucifer/the devil who is the true Messiah of Paradise Lost.

He gives us The Voice of the Devil and Proverbs of Hell, and has Angels being transformed into Demons through enlightenment. He tells us that Jesus broke all of the 10 commandments, yet was still virtuous because he acted according to his own morality rather than rules.

The god-figure of his later works, Urizen, generally comes across as malevolent, seeking to bind and control, whilst Los, the Satan/Messiah figure represents freedom, imagination and creativity.

"Restraining desire" and acting contrary to your own nature seem to be the only real evils for Blake.

He expressed his faith through a love of the world and the beauty in it, summed up in this quote:

"When the Sun rises do you not see a round Disk of fire somewhat like a Guinea? O no no I see an innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty".

He saw "God" in everything, in all the wonders we have around us, and considered writers/poets and religious prophets as essentially the same, since they both have a connection to the divine, and express it through stories.

It's quite ironic that probably his most famous poem, Jerusalem (the one that starts "and did those feet in ancient times walk upon England's mountains green"), was made into a very popular church hymn, yet it is supposed to be satirical in nature. The poem recounts the myth that Jesus may have visited England in his boyhood, and Blake is expressing his disbelief at that notion and the unworthiness of England.

Did I have a point to all this? Mostly to show my hand as a massive Blake nerd, but also to hopefully demonstrate that there's a lot of common ground between his ideas and those expressed in a show/book like Good Omens, and hopefully to inspire some of you who may not be familiar with Blake to seek him out. In particular I'd recommend The Marriage of Heaven and Hell to any and all.

EDIT: I should have thought to include this, here's Michael Sheen reading a Blake poem. I have the CD this is from, he reads several by Blake, as well as other poets I love ❤️ 😍

youtube

#william blake #good omens #good omens book #good omens 2 #good omens s3 #neil gaiman #crowley #aziraphale #english literature #literature #poetry #go2 #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #book omens #michael sheen #Youtube

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halvedforest · 5 months

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A lot of people, including every lore video maker I know of have this misconception, so I'm going to try and enlighten at least a few. Iterators. Were. Not. Made. Because. Of. Echoes. Echoes, were a horror story. A myth.

-Red Farm Arrays pearl. They were not a major concern, not something to cause the creation of the hundreds of iterators. So what were iterators built for? Finding a way to ascend everything.

Here's something Pebbles says to Survivor when they first meet.

He says everyone has a desire to ascend, and that his kind are meant to help with that. Now, this is still pretty vague. So let's look at a part of the Ashy Green pearl on top of the Wall.

I and other people at first thought that the part in parentheses was referring to Pebbles, but if you read it again. It's not, it's referring to world. And that iterators are a gift to the world because the world can't enlighten itself. Also, this means that the Solution was even supposed the ascend the rocks. Also, if you steal one of Moon's neurons when you first meet her, and then later gift her one. She straight up says iterators were meant for everything.

So, yeah. Iterators were not meant for (just) the benefactors. They were meant for everything.

#rain world #iterator #rain world iterator #rain world lore #rain world spoilers

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yvnaology · 3 months

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♦︎ from : the opera epiclese.

synopsis. the five stages: interest, enlightenment, infatuation, falling in love, and lastly— decision. to say that these five stages aligned with your progressing relationship with the peculiar magician in fontaine was a grave understatement. the heart wants what it wants, and it wanted him. (repost!!)

to: @rainswept @ryuryuryuyurboat @boykissr @meidnightrain ( taglist ↲ click link to sign up! )

♠︎ | title : 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. wc. 5.4k tw: none.

i. stage one : interest. the first stage can be described as many things: the overture, the beginning, but one does not miss how an inexplicable intrigue takes hold. this is the genesis of a crush.

besides trials, the opera epiclese served as a stage for a variety of performances. according to luzerne, the receptionist, lyney and lynette’s magic show was one of the more popular acts in the opera house.

upon entry after hesitantly purchasing a ticket, luzerne’s words replayed in your mind — the keyword ‘popular’ stood out like a thorn in her sentence. even with her dreamy sighs and gaze filled with admiration, there was no doubt that her words were as truthful as her ginger hair.

the raised seating sections of the grand, multi-leveled opera house were filled to the brim — with people wearing starstruck expressions and waiting in anticipation. the people seated next to you were so dazed, despite the goal of the show being to successfully deceive their twinkling eyes.

you felt out of place, unable to believe the charm the twins possessed to have the audience at their beck and call.

the lights in the confined space darkened, and the spotlight was casted upon the two. the assistant was a female whose feline features made her unique and fascinating — carrying a softened voice and dark violet colored eyes that would appear hollow and contain a certain nothingness. but the male.. he was her opposite, her contrasting counterpart, a magician with a mischievous grin and flowery words as his weapon.

at least, you thought so. his eyes were a lighter shade of violet, clear and full of flamboyance. yet, his eyes seemed as if they held more nothingness than his sister’s. he seemed like he had more to hide.

your own irises followed the movement of lyney’s hands as he moved his fingers in an intricate manner to bend a card to his will. swift movements with what were supposed to be made of regular plastic — made objects appear. first it was a simple teacup of porcelain, then a mechanical penguin, followed by a card with the design of a piece of jewelry that belonged to an audience member.

as soon as the other’s heads turned to the stage, lyney had already prepared his next move — holding said jewelry with a cheeky grin. with the snap of his fingers, the object of pristine value had disappeared, returning to the person who once wore it.

lyney unveils a mysterious box, explaining that it is the portal through which he will perform the ultimate teleportation. he invites a random audience member to inspect the box for any hidden compartments or tricks. once satisfied, lyney places the selected card, the vanished handkerchief, and the dove inside the box.

as the audience holds its breath, lyney dramatically opens the box. to everyone's astonishment, the chosen card, the handkerchief, and the dove have all vanished. the lights flicker, and suddenly, lyney appears at the back of the courthouse, holding the vanished items in his hands.

but yours were focused on his expression, the slightest jittering of his hands caught your attention more than the trick did.

as soon as the other’s heads turned to the stage, lyney had already prepared his next trick — holding one of the audience member’s precious jewelry. with the snap of his fingers, the object of pristine value had disappeared, returning to the person who once wore it.

the audience erupts in applause and cheers, marveling at the magical journey they've just experienced. the magician takes a bow, leaving the audience with a sense of wonder and disbelief in the face of the extraordinary — that was a magician’s natural talent. therein lies the beauty of it all.

the performance was magical in its own right, chaotic and mysterious. it held enough stunts to have the people questioning how they were done, with interviewers bursting with questions by the end of it.

you noticed how you accidentally left your umbrella in your seat, rushing to retrieve it — a fear of an umbrella theft taking place in the opera epiclese was not as irrational as some would think.

“is this umbrella yours, by chance?”

his smooth voice and charming smile made you pause. for a second, you felt nerves in your stomach — swallowing any unauthorized thoughts before nodding. “yeah, that’s mine.. must’ve left it in my seat.” you responded quietly, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“you did, but don’t worry — there won’t be any theft here on my watch.” he reassured before placing the umbrella in your hands. the moment he saw your eyebrow raising, he let out a chuckle. “you look a tad bit nervous, that’s why i assumed — unless it’s my presence causing such nerves?”

his grin only widened at his own words.

“no, just fear that i’ll be drenched in the rain and wake up feeling sick the next morning,” you retorted immediately, yet his grin never faltered.

“hehe — of course, of course.. you’ve just been coming to my shows quite often, that specfic seat is always occupied.” his tone was lighthearted and carefree, causing your heart rate to decrease a little.

“i’d say you’re quite intrigued by me, no?”

“by you? no, it’s just your tricks i’m interested in.” the way he put his thumb and index finger under his chin as if contemplating tells you that he didn’t buy your lie.

“your eyes usually don’t wander to where the happenings of my tricks are, they’re constantly on me — it’s not good to lie, you know?” he quipped, and your eyes only averted to the floor which made his smile turn into a smirk.

your embarrassment was evident, but he wouldn’t want you to become uncomfortable in his presence so he backtracks. “don’t worry — i'm not making fun of you or anything of the sort. in fact, i think your interest in me is a form of praise in itself.”

“really? a form of praise..?”

“you focus more on the artist rather than the art.. hm, that itself intrigues me as well.”

his body language gives away that his words are sincere, but given his position in society — a man meant to lie and wait in the pool of falsity, you were uncertain.

he crosses his arms, keeping his posture straight and poised. “i hope to see your seat occupied during my next show, but until then.. i see that you have places to be. i bid you farewell, and hope you have a pleasant day.”

he waved you goodbye, but the moment you stepped outside — you were met with the sight of pastel petals and a green stem in your bag. “how interesting.” you mused.

ii. stage two : enlightenment. with understanding comes development, as the seat in the opera epiclese continues to be cushioned specifically for you — leading to a blooming friendship between you and the magician whose presence fills you with more questions than answers.

“hey, i didn’t see you yesterday.” he pouts, finding his most precious audience member’s seat empty was not the most pleasant sight he could’ve seen — and you were left to deal with the aftermath.

it wasn’t often that you’d have to deal with a pouty magician, but whenever such an occurrence did happen — your eyes were glued onto his expression, watching as it changes depending on your words. “sorry, i was pretty busy and forgot to buy a ticket..”

he stared into your eyes for a few seconds, before his signature grin etched onto his face. “hm.. not to worry, i happen to have a ticket right here.” he turns and directed the softest smile at you, sliding a ticket in your direction; your surprise was evident, and the grip on the teacup’s handle tightened slightly.

“you’re giving it to me?” you decided to question, placing the teacup back onto the table with utmost care. lyney let out a laugh at your disbelief, quirking a brow at how your expression was one of shock.

“of course, who else would i give it to?” he questioned back, leaving you with many possible candidates in your head — but knowing the esteemed magician quite well by now; he’d have several responses at his feet to reassure you otherwise.

far across — a few tables away, you could hear the sounds of giggles and endless chattering. their eyes were set on you two as if you were a prey of gossip. you tensed, lifting the teacup to your awaiting lips to distract yourself from their quips with the taste of tea leaves.

“don’t mind them,” he suddenly suggested, though it sounded more of a command that was merely spoken in a softer tone than anything else. “if they feel the need to gossip, let them. indulging in the past-time of mentioning other people before reflecting on themselves is rather common practice.. unfortunately.”

you could’ve sworn you heard him stifle a yawn mid-sentence.

“are you tired?” your voice revealed your concern, much to his dismay.

“caught me red-handed, just.. please don’t mention this to lynette — she’d scold me a new one.” he pleaded, and the obvious exhaustion made the thought of the gossiping spectators be sent to the back of your mind.

“were you practicing late again?” another question that left him with a guilty conscience.

“well.. it isn’t as if i could practice a trick once and master it immediately.”

“i know.. but you can’t keep skipping days of rest either,” you gently scolded, a wave of concern hitting you at the sight of newly found under-eye bags.

he only lets out a faint sigh, a frown creasing on his face as you gently take his source of consciousness — coffee, and place it on the opposite end of the table.

“and this isn’t a healthy solution.” you continued with a voice carrying a tint of worry.

“go home and sleep, lyney.”

“but.. i still have a performance later.”

“take a nap, replenish your energy — otherwise you’ll be ridiculed for having the appearance of a literal zombie.”

he laid his head on the table, his frown only deepening at the offense he felt from your comment. “but being in the company of such a lovely friend as yourself is already replenishing my energy.”

“how touching, now get up.. please?” now you were the one to plead, but with good reasoning — to your defense.

he contemplated for a few seconds, weighing the pros and cons of listening to your rather commonplace advice. his involuntary pout returned, and you had a feeling he was going to make a deal of sorts. “if you promise to come to my show today, i’ll go home.”

you almost snorted at his persistence to have you in his audience, but you kept your impending giggles to yourself before nodding. “alright, i promise.”

his eyes were rapidly blinking, as if in an attempt to keep himself awake. you were staring longer than a friend ever should, that was for certain. your index finger gently tapped on his nose, causing his eyes to settle onto your face. “go home.” you repeated.

he let out a yawn before rising from his seat, waving you farewell as his steps became quieter until his silhouette was nowhere in sight.

another two stems of rainbow roses made their presence known in your bag, multi-colored petals emphasizing its beauty. your fingers subconsciously twiddled the stems, a giddy smile appearing on your face — the warming of your chest and the prolonged stare at its pinkish color made your mind race. you hoped he enjoyed the small gift you left in his hat.

it wasn’t just you with the feeling of newfound joy in your heart, his eyes lighting up at the sight of a small transparent bag tied with a red bow — its contents making his expression grow soft. cubic jellies, one of the many desserts that he had the habit of bringing to his workplace — and one that you remembered.

iii. stage three : infatuation. sparks begin to fly, fluttery, exciting sensation in the stomach — intense desire, heightened sensitivity… daydreams and fantasies cloud your judgement. to be infatuated means to experience both euphoria and fear. to be infatuated means to seek more than you’re being given.

you dreamed of him that night.

his twinkling amethysts mock you in your daydreams, his charming grin garners your prolonged gaze — and you find yourself attracted to him. the magician was a tease, even when he’s simply crossing his legs and asking for your opinion on his newest trick.

all of your objectivity heads out of the window by that point. all you can think about is how to praise his hard work, even if he reassures you that any kind of criticism is welcome.

shuffling a deck of cards, his eyes dart from the props on the table to your expression — waiting for any reaction. “so, my dearest audience member.. what did you think of that last one? i do think i need more practice before my next performance—”

“it was perfect.”

to say that lyney was surprised at this was an understatement.

your praises never came so quickly, he wasn’t even able to finish his sentence because words of awe and admiration escaped your throat. it was as if you weren’t even thinking before you spoke (which was completely the case). it wasn’t your fault that his handiwork was so compelling, alluring to the eyes as much as his face was. there wasn’t any room to think, only to stare, only to scan his every feature.

“oh? is that so? you don’t need to sugarcoat it so much — i can take it!” his smooth voice carries a hint of teasing, adding to your current stress of having words pop out of your mouth quicker than your mind could comprehend. great, now he thinks you weren’t being genuine.

“i’m being serious, i didn’t see anything wrong with it.” you decided to respond, hoping he took your words seriously and perhaps even complimented you in return.

lyney only looks confused, causing your head to ache out of nervous anticipation.

“thank you for the praise, but trust me... i do need more practice. after all, i ended up forgetting a prop during this practice session..” he concluded with a chuckle.

he did? you hadn’t even noticed. you felt so incredibly stupid. of course, he wasn’t looking for praise — but honest judgment. ‘flowery words in this scenario were not the right call’, you noted.

that was only one of many examples of the disaster that came with infatuation.

idealism was the one-way ticket to a world of hurt, and you wished that you could use your head instead of your eyes — projecting your every desire and fantasy onto him. he was a mystery even after months of friendship. you felt as if you barely knew a thing about the object of your affection — and that alone made your heartache.

in your mind, his every mistake was to be overlooked — he was perfect through your rose-colored glasses. that was what you were sticking with, to make up for the lack of knowledge you had on the magician. he appeared in every dream, filling your mind with rose petals and heart-shaped eyes. that wasn’t reality, you were being sucked into a world of illusion.

that, and his flowery tongue was less than helpful. you often wondered what he was thinking whenever he spoke to you that way. did he mean any of it, or was it all a farce? you truly never knew, and perhaps that was his goal.

it seems that your attempts at being subtle were going south by the minute, teases from your friends about your relationship with him made you groan, and their giggles and quips.. all of it was more conflicting if anything.

“so, you and lyney?” one chirped with eyes sparkling with mischievous intent, gathering the gazes of the rest of the group who had their mouths agape.

you had no choice but to shake your head, feeling your stomach twisting in an unfamiliar manner — all while your friends sat in waiting for an explanation you didn’t even have in hand.

“me and lyney what?” it was the safest dialogue option, creating open room for conversation — yet revealing their true intentions with such a question that they were bound to respond honestly to. it was a mere attraction, something that would pass with time. at least, you desperately hoped it did.

“are you two going out?”

such a question was absurd, even to your ears. you only found him attractive, and you’d make that sentiment clear to prevent any misunderstandings and possible rumors. “no, i just find him attractive... i don’t like him like that though.”

your voice was firm, filled with confidence that you were completely uncertain of. it seemed that they got the hint, as their expressions changed from curiosity to understanding, with slight concern as well — you noticed.

but it seemed that there was one that decided to continue to push, hoping for something to satisfy their desire for the knowledge of your relationship with the magician.

judging stares, nudging shoulders — perhaps they didn’t get the hint after all. “are you sure?” they inquired further, seeming like someone akin to a journalist about to branch out on their next exclusive.

were you sure? your stomach churned at the thought of yourself being uncertain; you had to be, there was no other choice. the grip on your clothing grew tighter, and the moment you turned to face your friend — all you could do was give an affirmative nod. “i’m certain.”

iv. stage four : falling in love. when the feeling settles in at a random moment as if waking up from a nightmare that sends your heart pounding — a realization that has that same effect. what hits you first isn’t joy, it’s panic.

you were not certain.

as you lay in bed that night, you recall your conversation with your friends — and mentally curse yourself for having the slightest doubt that lyney and his enticing demeanor didn’t make your heart warm and race.

his every move was a magic trick, and his audience was your aching heart that yearned for him. you often wondered what it was, what about him excited you so much. what was it that made him appear in your every dream? twiddling your fingers as you sat in your bed, you demanded yourself to believe that what you felt was an illusion.

but it wasn’t, being in his mere presence lifted your mood more than anything or anyone else; then there was the giddy feeling that overwhelmed your senses, the rush of emotions you earned from his every woven word. all of it was replaced with a heavy guilt and fear.

what were you meant to do now?

it wasn’t as if you could confess, your blood ran cold at the mention of spilling your everlasting line of emotional distress because you liked lyney to anyone. it was as if you were chasing an impossible goal, with no path opened to go to next. helplessness felt with every breath you drew. hurt, etched with every doubt in your mind that lyney most likely didn’t return the sentiment.

how could you possibly be hopeful at a time like this?

lyney was a perceptive person, able to read a person’s emotions from their micro-expressions, using their emotional leakage to expose one’s true intentions and feelings through a mere gaze. of course, you were no exception.

lynette, as peculiar as one might find her, had a similar talent of such. which is exactly why you caught her eye in particular. as usual, lyney never failed to mention his day-to-day endeavors to her, much to her (slight) delight. once your name escaped his lips, she was already intrigued. his description, while dramatic, gave her enough curiosity to watch over your conversations with him — her results? she finds them to be more surprising than usual.

at first, her mind drifted to you being simply attracted, not thinking too much in depth about the words you’d use or how your cheeks would redden at even the slightest charming comment. it was rather common for someone’s behavior toward the object of admiration, at least she thought so.

fascination was a usual occurrence, especially for someone as eccentric as lyney. he attracted the attention of those he met, created a suave impression — and kept it up for as long as possible. lynette wasn’t a stranger to such things, she’d seen it happen one too many times to count.

she prefers to use her eyes to understand the situation and find an appropriate solution, usually. though this matter was more complex, the more she used her eyes, the more insight she’d have on your feelings — oftentimes, she’d stay quiet during your conversations with her brother simply to observe your mannerisms around him, and she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow on more than one occasion.

“hm, these animals seem to enjoy your company more than mine — tis a tragedy.” the magician tuts, gently touching the snow-white fur of one of the bunnies used in his eccentric shows. you were hung on his every word, your finger gently tapping on the bunny’s nose — causing its ears to twitch. “aw, we’ll i’m honored.”

the moment your gaze left the bunny and landed on his eyes, lynette couldn’t help but notice the slightest quirk of the corner of your lips or how your fingers fidgeted — signs of nerves, she recalled.

“my, it seems that they certainly are quite fond of you — presenting you with something of utmost value..” he beamed, looking pleased with himself as you heightened an eyebrow. “notice anything different about our little friend here?”

your pupils dilated once your eyes set on the bunny once more, carrying a rainbow rose in between its teeth — the moment you moved your hand closer, the animal dropped the plant into your palm. your breath hitched, unable to control the sudden rush of euphoria and the sound of your heart pounding against your chest, threatening to burst.

perhaps it was a better idea not to look so awestruck by a stem and petals, clearing your throat as you keep your gaze on the furred animal instead of your friend. “a rainbow rose..?”

“only befitting, if i do say so myself.”

his comment only made you swallow, the urge to bite your lip in embarrassment was strong, yet you resisted — lest you appear as a lovesick fool in his eyes. that was the absolute last thing you wanted.

with a flourish of his arms and lilac embers staring into the very corners of your soul, you found yourself completely lost in the allure of his gaze. “i used a lumidouce bell last time we spoke, remember? it’s only natural that i upgrade your little gift~!”

he wasn’t good for your heart, not in the slightest; and one day, you sincerely hoped he’d see that as well. his smile held a certain kind of elation that you’ve never seen before, enough to make your heart melt into a puddle. lynette could only imagine what you must be thinking, and even she’d begun to ponder how deep your feelings went if her interpretation held any accuracy.

after such an interaction came to a close, with lyney adjusting his hat as you walked away — lynette’s footsteps were barely audible as she appeared next to you. your eyes landed on her blank expression immediately, wondering why she wasn’t heading in the same direction as her twin. “did you need anything?”

“you.. like him, don’t you?”

her question was enough to halt the rapid beating of your heart. whether to be honest or not was completely up to you, yet — hiding in cowardice and dishonesty was not on your agenda, you’d realized that ever since you came to terms with your battling emotions.

“i do.” was all you could answer her, unknowing what to expect from the half-feline — though, a harsh scolding was completely out of the question and out of character for lynette anyway.

lynette only pulled at the hem of her sleeve, and you could only assume she was contemplating on what to say. “i see, i figured as much.. your behavior lined up.”

you were confused as to whether you should feel offended or joyful at her words, knowing that you weren’t the most subtle — but then again, who could deceive lynette’s eyes and ears?

you were about to speak up when lynette cut to the chase and nodded. “are you certain that you do..?”

were you certain? you’ve asked yourself this countless times, having played a sequence of contemplation, contradictory thoughts, guilt, and finally, acceptance all in your head; you were lost and being forced to deal with a desire for even another second simply being next to him, what you wouldn’t give to hear his voice every second of every day. were you absolutely certain that this phase was truly different?

lynette stared at you expectantly, you had no doubt that she saw the hesitance and worry written all over your face — but your answer remained the same, it was what you answered to your friends when you came to the wrong conclusion, but this time was in complete contrast. “i’m certain.”

v. stage five : decision. the decision stage is naturally the hardest, the most important and the most impactful. it’s the phase that sets the stage for you two — one that determines it all with only a few words.

in your eyes, there was a one-sided nervous tension in the air. a confession loomed, weighed down by unspoken words for too long — your world was crackled with vulnerability, a loop of anger directed at yourself, as well as sharp pangs of pain at how heavy your heartfelt because of the condemnation that was love.

at the center of it all was lyney, a burial of your feelings was in order — yet they would resurface every time he said with his smooth voice. it felt almost eerie, how quickly he could make you let out both chuckles or bitterness and joy. apart of you felt so incredibly warm, the feeling that you once thought was fleeting — led on for months. it was impossible to suppress, challenging to hide, and hurtful to keep silent.

your throat begged for the day when you would spill every thought that crossed your mind whenever you saw his face. begged for the opportunity to be able to swoon whenever he combed his unruly hair back with a grin, begged for you to release the tension in your body if only by saying “i love you.”

A delicate dance of revelation and acceptance was what it was, the syllables almost escaped your tongue on too many occasions — and your emotions were beginning to become bothersome to keep in control. your mind splurged with imagery, your hand reaching to touch his gloved ones, and how your heart yearned for his attention.. it was out of bounds to even have these thoughts occur.

guilt, at the concept of pushing your feelings onto another and praying to every archon that they’re reciprocated. to you, that sounded unfair — and unjust. acceptance, that your feelings were true and uncomfortable, yet it was what your disposition felt entitled to have, it’s the path you’re set to follow whether you approve or not. hope that perhaps pouring every mumble and verb onto him would earn you a softened gaze instead of a stare of concern and judgment.

perhaps he’ll say “i love you.” in return instead of “i’m sorry.” — that he would acknowledge you and save you from crumbling sorrow buried under the label of heartache.

would it be able to handle rejection? would you be able to recover from such a thing? how will you face him after? what would you say?

the thought of weight being placed off of you through unspoken truths, destroying that invisible barrier of transparency, revealing authenticity through hardened exteriors — both scared you and elated you.

you’d wonder what it would feel if it was all placed off of your chest for him to carry for you.

your eyes searched his lilac ones, your legs almost touching as he performed another trick for you — a routine you’ve gotten used to (minus your rapidly beating heart). “Magic has a way of revealing the hidden, don’t you think?” lyney mused, his eyes locking onto yours as your gaze averted to his cards — clenching your right hand instinctively.

you could only nod, following along with his deft hands making the cards made out of plastic seem like the most interesting thing in the world. “it’s like unveiling secrets one at a time, it’s.. more than just illusions.”

“you have quite the keen eye, watch carefully now.. blink, and you might miss it,” he warned with a cheeky smile, asking you to choose a card — emphasizing that you hold a special connection to the card you chose.

after shuffling the deck, lyney’s eyes close tightly — before picking a card and handing it back to you. opening one of his eyes as if winking, he only smiled at you before inquiring, “is this your card?”

you stare at the card with a rose symbol embedded into it, recalling that it was the exact card you had picked before. “it is, what now?”

he chuckled, reminding you that patience is a virtue — he placed a hand above the card, his fingers not coming into direct contact with it. after a second, the card began to levitate, much to your awe and confusion.

unfortunately for you, his eyes were as captivating as ever, drawing your attention from his hands. your ever-growing line of questions extends the moment a rose appears from the card, landing on your palm. your eyes widened with amazement, “how did you—”

“i did tell you to watch carefully, didn’t i?” he responded with a smirk forming on his face, causing you to give him an unamused stare.

“come now, don’t give me that look..” he feigned a look of defeat, much to your dismay — though, you had to admit that his expression was oddly adorable.

“i wouldn’t have been able to catch it even if i did watch carefully,” you retorted, keeping your eyes focused on the rose’s petals to check for authenticity — confirming that the rose was more real than your feelings for the magician.

“guess that’s one secret i’m afraid you won’t get to catch.” he hummed, evidently content with his actions while you couldn’t hold back the urge to roll your eyes. your nerves were subtle, and you couldn’t bear to think of lyney’s reaction when he found out what you were planning to say soon.

you took a deep breath, yet his expression was still lighthearted and peaceful — his eyes glimmered with something else.. not the nothingness that remained when you first met, but pure and wholehearted contentment. he didn’t look as if he were hiding, cowering, or even hesitant. his eyes were filled with the determination you wish you owned.

“speaking of secrets, there’s one i’ve been keeping, and tonight — the stage is set to reveal it. would you like to know?” he placed a hand under his chin, crossing his legs as you blinked. “a secret?”

“one i’m surprised you haven’t caught onto yet, yes.” he reaffirmed, his expression softening and his smile growing slightly wider. this was nothing you’ve ever seen from him.

“what is it?” you inquired, your voice barely above a whisper — as if your earlier fears were resurfacing. your fingers tightened around your sleeve, biting your tongue and anticipating his next words with newfound anxiety.

“i love you.”

the rose rested on your lap, a spur of emotions hitting you all at once — you opened your mouth to speak, to say anything, but once again.. lyney rendered you completely speechless.

the props were witnesses to the development that you weren’t expecting, such a gentle voice and three words filled with elation and affection. his eyes were twinkling with redamancy, awaiting the answer that you were certain he would have anticipated.

his hand shifted closer to you, opening it to reveal his gloved palm. “if you’d have me.. i’d like to be more than friends.. how does that sound, my dear companion?”

nothing could capture the nuance that accompanied the present moment, as your throat betrayed you and your voice cracked. “i love you too.” you hadn’t meant to come off as meek, but the beamed look on his face was enough for you to overlook your little setback. it felt as if you’ve made his entire world with one sentence that echoed in the air for at most, two seconds.

“then,” his fingers lingered on yours, tugging slightly until your hand fit in his own. “allow us to create our own authentic performance that lasts.. forever, what say you?”

#lyney x reader #lyney x gender neutral reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #astronetwrk

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gisellaswrld · 5 months

Text

i never doubted your loyalty once; until you decided that being loyal meant hurting your lover

af11 | after many conversations with the fantilli family, you decided to make one last attempt to reach out to adam.

"Come on, Y/N." Luca pleaded, staring down at your in your dorm. "I don't know why you think it's a bad idea." Luca crossed his arms over his chest. Your uncertain gaze just stared at him, silence following his words. "Give me on good reason, then I'll leave it alone."

"He hates me, Luca." You stated, voice low. "Me and Adam are done, there's nothing left."

"Bullshit--dude I was the one who listened to him after you guys broke up--he doesn't hate you!" Luca quickly replied, his hands flailing up. "I'll give you my Bio notes for a whole month, even the rest of the semester."

"I don't want your notes, be so for real Luca." You cracked a smile, rolling your eyes. "What if I do it, right? Then he plays like shit on his first game, then he get's even more angry at me." You conjured up the false scenario.

"He's bound to play like shit anyways!" Luca retaliated, he was begging you at this point. "No one plays good on their debut."

"The answer is no, Luca. Now go, I know you have workouts in twenty." You got up from the desk chair, shooing Luca out of your dorm.

"But-"

"No, Luca! Go!" You pushed him gently out of your dorm. You shut the door in his face, avoiding anymore pleading from him. Once you heard his footsteps walk away from the door, you let out a deep breath, leaning your forehead against the door.

There was no way you were recording a video for this montage.

Your break up with Adam was far too fresh, still painful in your heart, and probably his. It wasn't a mutual breakup either, in fact, neither of you wanted to break up. Your last argument was one that couldn't leave your head. It didn't leave during the silent times in class, when you were trying to sleep, or in the warm afternoons where there was silent.

It racked your brain.

"So, Ohio?" You spoke, watching Adam tug at the roots of his hair. He had been pacing around the hotel room since you guys got back. "What are we going to do, Y/N?" Adam abruptly spoke, standing in front of you.

The question took you aback, shocked that he would ask that. "What do you mean?" You tilted your head in confusion. "I mean, we can barely go three hours without being around each other. Now we are going to be hundreds of miles away from each other."

You quickly stood from the bed, anxious nerves filling your brain. "Adam--what--no, what?" You stuttered out. "We'll be able to work it out, it's not like your in California!"

"I know, I know. But still, I don't want it to cause problems between us. It'll make being away from you worse." Adam sighed, attempting to reach out and grab you hand. You quickly pulled yours away. "The fuck-"

"Why does it seem like you've already made this decision?" You stated, glaring at Adam. "Why does it seem like you've made this decision before we came here? Have you been thinking about leaving me?"

"The way your saying it is making me look like a shitty guy." Adam rolled his eyes, taking a step back from you. "Then tell me, Adam! Enlighten me about how I'm supposed to be saying this!" You shouted, a hand running through your hair.

"I mean, Y/N, we thought I was going to Anaheim. That's across the fucking country. You are telling me that thought never crossed you mind? You are telling me that the thought of distance breaking us up didn't cross your mind?" Adam spoke, his voice laced with sadness.

"Did you really think I was going to leave and that we were going to be perfectly fine?" Adam added, his eyes staring into your watering ones.

"No, I guess not." You spoke softly, tears falling down your face. "But I didn't think it was going to cause us to break up, Adam. I thought we would figure out a way to work things out. I really thought that." You shook your head, anger filling your voice once more.

"Then I think you were being naive about this." Adam deadpanned, venom lacing his voice.

"Adam, god you can call me naive, you can say I was being selfish or stupid. But, sorry for truly thinking that a three year relationship wouldn't go down the drain because you were going into the NHL. I'm sorry I didn't spend my nights wondering how we were going to end like you did. Fuck you, I hope you are lonely in Columbus. I won't be here when you wake up." You seethed, grabbing your things to rush out of his hotel room. You didn't forget to slam the door on the way out.

That night, you slept in Luca's room, crying as hard as you could.

You weren't expecting for Luca to ask you to be in the montage, you especially weren't expecting for Julia Fantilli to call you up. She encouraged you to make a small video, even if it was five seconds, she knew it would resonate with him in the slightest bit.

So, here you sat on your bed. Your phone leaning against a filled water bottle on your nightstand. It took twenty-nine tries, to be exact. At try fifteen, you had to plan out what you were going to say on a index card.

You sent the clip off to Luca, adding a small message with it. Now you just had to wait the three days until October 12, hoping this video wouldn't cause Adam to play like shit in his debut.

Adam knew a few of his family members and old teammates were creating something for him to watch on his birthday. He did not know that your face would pop up on the screen.

After watching a video of him from when he was younger, then Brindley, then Seamus, then his grandparents, then his brother, then his parents, he figured the video was over.

Then your face popped onto the screen.

"Hi Adam!" You spoke, your voice quiet. He recognized the surroundings quickly. You were in your dorm room at Michigan, the familiar posters from last year were still hung up on your wall. Except this time, pictures of you and Adam were missing.

Adam already had tears in his eyes, especially after watching the video from his brother. You were the last person he was expecting to be in the montage.

"I wanted to say happy birthday, and congratulations on your NHL debut. I know you probably weren't expecting this from me, but here I am." It was like you knew exactly what would be flowing through Adam's mind when you created this video.

"I'm so proud at how far you've came. I knew when I met you a long time ago you would do big things. Now, I'm sure you'll do even greater things." Your voice pained Adam more than he ever imagined. You sounded different, your voice was more sad and quiet than usual.

"I miss having you around in Michigan. I have no one to rant to about BioChem and Taylor Swift. But I know you are doing great things in Columbus. Good luck Adam, I love you." Then the video cut off.

Adam ran his hands down his face, his body feeling empty and heavy. He wasn't sure what greater god did this to knock some sense into his brain, but Adam knew he needed to fix this.

Adam had to fix it all.

#nhl imagine #nhl #nhl x reader #hockey #hockey imagines #adamfantilli #adam fantilli blurb #adam fantilli x reader #adam fantilli imagine #adam fantilli

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chlorinecake · 6 months

Note

What are your thoughts on gang bang?

My sincere thoughts on it? Honestly can’t say that I’m a fan. However, I’ll take this ask as an opportunity to write something ~different~ for my community of horny engenes !!

cw swearing, unprotected sex, m. & f. oral (both giving and receiving), slight exhibitionism, boob play, reader gets fucked by the hyung line, not proofread wc 1.3k

So by now we’re all pretty familiar with enhypen’s infamous resort episode, right?

Imagine Lee Heeseung, one of the richest, most attractive guys at your university inviting you to a pool party held at his condo over the weekend.

You wore an ordinary emerald green two piece bikini with a thin shawl tied around your waist, sitting at the poolside while your eyes merely glazed the book you brought with you. It was supposed to act as headphones to an introverted gym bro, but God knows you weren’t AT ALL interested in reading anymore.

Too distracted by the bulge fest Heeseung and his three equally hot friends were granting you with, the only thing on your mind was how you were gonna fuck at least one of them before the night was out.

Luckily, the pool had already started to clear out within an hour, so you had the perfect chance to make your move with Heeseung's groupies out of the way.

Abandoning your now damp book and shawl, you joined the four boys in the pool, the view of your perky tits and ass against the underwater lights thoroughly enthralling their attention.

“Hey, stranger. It's about time you got your nose out of that book," Jake chuckled, making a spot for you to squeeze in between him and Heeseung in the water, "I’m surprised a girl like you even swung by tonight."

“Don’t be," you said, looking him dead in the eye, "I’m not all books and brains like you might think I am.”

“Great, so why don’t you enlighten us?" Heeseung offered, trying to out-intimidate you, "I’ve invited you to my parties in the past, but you never showed. Why change that tonight?”

You opted for a more humorous response to his cheeky question.

“Because, you’ve obviously been keeping track of my attendance records… I wouldn’t want to risk my midterm grade like that,” you pouted playfully, kicking your feet in the water which only drew their attention back to your body.

Dogs, you thought to yourself. They weren’t even trying to hide how thirsty they were.

“No worries… Heeseung lost the backbone to give cute girl's honest ratings a while ago,” Sunghoon poked, earning a circle of laughter from the inside joke he'd just told.

“Yeah, buddy. You’ve seriously lowered your standards over the years,” Jake pitched in, “prudes like her don’t know how to have a good time, so just quit with your efforts.”

You scoffed at his sly remark, Heeseung splashing water at Jake’s face in both your defense.

"Hmm," you began, speaking more boldly, "last time I checked, prudes are easy targets... I figured guys like you couldn't handle when girls play hard to get anyways."

“That’s sweet and everything, but I'm afraid you've misjudged us," Jay interjected, "guys like ourselves actually enjoy a challenge once in a while... even when the prize is amateur at best.”

“Pfft,” you amused, humored by how much they underestimated the lengths you'd go to for a good fuck, even if you made a fool of yourself while doing so. You played along, planning to make use of your dirty mouth to rile them up even more.

"Look, now you've made her mad," Heeseung sighed at Jay who only shook his head in response.

"Not mad, but extremely horny, yes… and when I'm in the mood, I prefer to skip the mind games and just use my words," you said with a seductive voice, looking them all dangerously in the eyes, "If any of you perverts wanna put your boner's to good use before the night is out, you know where to find me."

The look on their faces was a mix of shock, offense, and desire, their eyes following the trail of water your feet left behind as you made your way outside of Heeseung's pool and into his condo.

“What the fuck is her deal,” Sunghoon asked rhetorically, being the first of the bunch to make his way out of the pool, following behind you.

Jake contemplated with himself before calling out to Sunghoon, "Aye, wait up," nearly slipping on his ass as he got out of the pool.

"Yeahhh, I'm not sure if she wants all of us to join her," Jay pitched in, watching as Heeseung slowly made his way to the pool staircase.

"How dense can you be, bro? The girl's obviously a raging slut. She's practically begging to have all her hole's filled tonight," Heeseung huffed, shaking the water from his hair before dumbly following your water trail as if hypnotized.

Jay was putting up a front, but he was equally, if not even more eager to get off one way or another.

Introducing your fivesome location of choice: Heeseung's indoor sauna.

Some debating time took place before you guys actually started anything, discussing how they planned to take turns fucking you before finally agreeing on going at it in groups of two.

As expected, each of the four boys had their own way of toying with you.

Heeseung took the lead, fucking up into you as you bounced on his cock, your hands desperately clinging onto his shoulders as if fearful that the force of his thrusts would make you fall.

“Fuck,” he hissed, relishing in the sensation of your slimy walls clenching around him.

The surrounding boys palmed themselves while they awaited their turn, some of them even pulling out their phones to record the filthy scene.

Jay, being one of the more impatient ones, took it upon himself to wrap your hand around his dick, guiding your movements with one hand while he massaged your tits with the other. “Since Heeseung here forgot we’re supposed to be sharing,” he groaned, melting into the warmth of your grip.

After the two eldest boys had their fun, Jake and Sunghoon helped themselves to you next.

It caught you off guard when Jake kissed you, his tongue entering your mouth as he explored your folds with his free hand, testing just how eager you were for more.

You were eventually put on all fours, Sunghoon forcing your wobbly legs open as he chuckled in your ear, “don’t tell me you’re already getting tired,” he smirked, landing a harsh smack against your pulsing heat.

Jake gripped your hips, the hot pressure of his cock swirling at your entrance before he finally rammed himself all the way in, delighting you with a feeling of fullness. “So tight,” he whinced, slowly grinding into your hole before picking up the pace.

Sunghoon only gave Jake so much fun time before tapping in, telling Jake to pull out and just hold himself so he could finally have a go.

Although you were still on all fours, Sunghoon was much rougher with you than Jake was, leaning down to graze your shoulder with his fangs while his free hand gripped at your throat.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he rutted into you from behind, smacking your ass just to hear you whine before you both finally climaxed.

"Alright, show off," Jay teased, guiding your tired body into the missionary position, propping you up on your elbows so Heeseung could have full access to mouth.

You’re sure Jay's goal was to make you squirt just from how aggressively he fingered your cunt, diving down to leave rough kitten licks against your puffy clit as he whispered against your heat, “So fucking pretty for us.”

Meanwhile, you watched Heeseung’s eyes flutter as you slowly inched your lips down his length, delicate hands caressing your cheeks as if petting you before forcing your head down a little further. He trembled at the feeling of your throat tightening around him, “Fuck, you feel so good," he nearly whimpered, chest heaving in harmony with each bob of your head.

Despite your mouth being stuffed, broken moans escaped your lips as Jay eased you toward your third orgasm of the night, your body squirming beneath him as your shiny release coated his lips and chin, adding to the foul sounds echoing within the sauna space.

And with that, your steamy night went on for what felt like hours, the four horny boys chasing their highs and passing you around like the main course at a holiday dinner party.

All of this action was definitely not on par with how you initially planned to spend your weekend night, but it wasn't something you had a problem with, either.

a/n: I felt tempted to include the entire enha legal line in this drabble… I’m sorry, but there ain’t no way you’d be able to process all that dick at once, BYE-

No tags bc this one sucks . I literally might randomly delete this one day… — feel free to check out more fun reads like this on my enhypen bookshelf !!

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lnfours · 6 months

Text

tolerate it | l.n

summary: if it’s all in my head, tell me now. tell me i’ve got it wrong somehow.

warnings: happy folklore/evermore season :) angst, language, fears of your partner falling out of love with you, slight anxiety and overthinking, fluffy ending bc i can’t make them stay mad at each other. kinda wanna do an evermore/folklore mini series, let me know if you guys would be interested <3

masterlist | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the colder weather meant the sun was starting to set earlier, and it was evident as you gazed out the window, sitting at the dining room table. the candle you had lit an hour or so ago flickering softly, illuminating the room with a soft glow as the gloomy sky hovered above.

you sighed to yourself, taking another sip from the wine glass that sat next to your plate. you tapped on your phone screen, lighting up and displaying the time and the picture you had set as your lock screen. the 5:30 hovering tauntingly above the picture of you and lando from a few months back, your smile wide and trying to hide it in his shoulder as he held his camera to the mirror. he was sporting a smile also, you could almost hear your shared giggles through the photo.

he was supposed to be home an hour ago, and nights like this were happening more often. he’d always be an hour to an hour and a half late getting home. it was always an apology, saying ‘training ran late’ or the quadrant shoot ‘ran on longer than it was supposed to’, you’d see him for fifteen minutes while the two of you ate dinner, and then he’d go off to the office until he decides to join you in bed later in the night.

at first, you didn’t complain, knowing he was a man with a busy schedule, but after almost two months of this same song and dance, your anxiety was getting the best of you.

what if he was out with someone else? what if he was slowly losing interest in you? what if he just tolerates you?

the sound of the door closing pulled you from your thoughts, snapping your head up as you heard footsteps enter the room. he placed his keys, wallet and phone on the counter, frowning softly.

“sorry i’m late,” here we go again, “i told max i needed to be home by 4 and he insisted we played another round before i left.”

you nodded, taking another sip from the glass on your right, “‘s fine.”

he watched you swallow thickly, tilting your head to look back out the window. he noticed the way your hand tapped against your arm softly, his eyes moving to the plates set on the table. your grandmother’s china.

his heart dropped when he thought back to your conversation the other night, him saying the two of you would have a proper sit down meal tonight since he felt bad for running late lately.

and he just fucked it all up even more.

“you don’t have to lie,” he said, making you advert your attention back to him, “i know you know it’s not fine.”

you shook your head, “what’s it matter to you, anyway?”

he knew he deserved the digs and jabs you were sending his way, “seriously, lando, if you’re not interested in me anymore just say it instead of making me play this stupid game.”

the silence that fell between the two of you after was the final blow. he watched your cheeks glisten in the soft candle light, and fuck, he hated seeing you cry. especially when it was because of him.

he didn’t know what to say as your chair scraped the floor, getting up from your spot at the table and picking up your plate. the food untouched as you grabbed the saran wrap from the pantry.

he heard your quiet sniffle, “i’m so sorry, y/n-“

“then where have you been the past two months?” he blinked back at you before you continued, “every single day it’s the same, overused excuse. so, what is it really, lando? enlighten me.”

he swallowed because he didn’t have answer that didn’t sound like he was making an excuse. he really had been busy with work, but he knew he could’ve done better with planning to make more time for you and him.

you knew he loved you with every fiber of his being, but you were upset. you were angry and sad and all you wanted was for him to come home and spend time together like the two of you used to do. but it was like it was too much to ask for.

of course you knew what you were signing up for when he took you on your very first date, but you didn’t know it would mean being put on the back burner, begging to be let in on the things going on his life.

his silence made you nod, “right,”

he reached out to you slowly, not sure how you would react. you bit down on your bottom lip, the dam breaking now as he stepped towards you.

“y/n,” he said your name softly, understanding that your lash-outs were because of men who had hurt you in the past, knowing too well what it felt like when anxiety and over thinking takes over. he couldn’t be mad at you, he just wanted to make things right. make you feel reminded that he loved you. more than racing, more than his friends, more than anything in the whole world.

the back of your hands were raised to your eyes when he grabbed them and pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his chest. you gave in, knowing that at the end of the day, he was your safe place. your shoulder to cry on, the one who always saw you in your most vulnerable stages. there was no getting past him with this one.

your hands wrapped around his middle loosely as you cried softly into his chest. he rested his head against yours, rubbing your back the same way he always did whenever he’d comfort you. his lips pressed against your hair before he grabbed your face gently, lifting your chin to have you look at him.

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, eyes searching yours and that’s when you realized he had been crying too, “i’m gonna talk to my trainer and the guys and tell them i need a little bit of a break, and you and i are gonna spend every single day together doing whatever you want.”

you felt selfish now, “but this is your job, lan,”

“i don’t care,” he said, shaking his head as he moved his hand to hold your cheek, “they’ll be fine if i take a few days off.”

your hand came up to mimic his on your cheek, your fingers brushing against the small moles on his face. the same ones your lips press against whenever you kiss his face. the pads of your thumbs brushed away the small tear lingering around his nose.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling guilty for being cold to the boy who loved you like no other.

“don’t apologize,” he said, “i should’ve done better. you don’t deserve to feel like you’re on the back burner of my life.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck as his snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as if it was even possible. you looked back out the window, the light from the golden hour sun shining on the trees in the backyard. he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, “i love you.”

you smiled softly, pulling back to meet his gaze. your smile making his lips turn up into one mirroring yours, “i love you, too.”

he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, a mixture of the wine you had with dinner and the salty tears you had cried a few moments prior with the subtle hint of your chapstick.

you both pulled away, him taking you by surprise when he lifted you off the ground. you squealed, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you clung onto his hoodie for dear life.

“lando!” you laughed, letting him carry you to the couch and thanking yourself for putting his dinner plate in the fridge earlier.

you had your boy back.

#lando norris x reader imagine #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader #mclaren formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #mclaren f1

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dancingbirdie · 8 months

Note

Would you plz do a fic with Astarion when tav and the party looted a bunch of alcohol and take it back and drink it and celebrate at camp but tav gets a little drunk and astarion starts realising his feelings for them? 😳

I’d love astarion to take care of me after a few drinks 😂

Bless you anon, for gifting me this fic idea. It practically wrote itself and saved me from being bored all day at work. I hope you enjoy it!

A Night of Drinks and Realizations

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3,120

Warnings/Tags: Astarion x GN!Tav, minor act 1 spoilers, drinking, drunkenness, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, FLUFF! Non-sexual HEARTWARMING FLUFF!

Song Credit: The Galway Girl by Steve Earle (I do not own rights to the music, lyrics modified slightly to fit the fic)

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

Chultan Fireswill tasted exactly as its name suggested - like the last charcoaled bits remaining in a dying campfire. But, Tav had to admit, it got the job done. It was as strong as horse piss on a hot day. They were absolutely soused from just half a bottle. Although, to be fair, Tav hadn’t been a heavy drinker in their past life, before all this illithid tadpole business had come about. Now? Well, they supposed they had much more reason to imbibe.

Tav sat around the campfire with most of the others, enjoying spoils from the goblin camp the party had handily defeated - mostly due to the help that Halsin and Lump the Enlightened’s group had provided. They had yet to make it back to the Emerald Grove as Halsin had requested. Utterly spent from the fighting and fleeing, Tav and the rest of the party had opted instead to rest for the night in the blighted village on the outskirts of the goblin camp. At least there were semi-usable beds in some of the abandoned buildings.

Shortly after setting up camp, Gale had retired early, eager to continue reading some of the dusty tomes he’d been collecting throughout their journey. Astarion had slunk off in search of something to satiate his thirst, leaving the rest of the group in various states of relaxation around the fire. It was a quiet, peaceful evening. Everyone seemed to be deep in their own thoughts, ruminating.

That was until Tav hiccupped loudly, breaking the thoughtful silence that had overtaken the party. Karlach guffawed at the sound, smacking her hands on her thighs.

“Tav’s absolutely PISSED, look at them!” she managed between cackles. The other party members turned to observe them, curious. They had all been running about, fighting, nonstop for the past few days. No one in the party had ever been well and truly drunk in front of the others. There just hadn’t been the time, or the relative safety, to be inebriated.

Tav blinked blearily at Karlach across the bonfire, trying to focus. “‘M not,” they garbled. “‘M perffc-ly fine.”

“Chk. Your tolerance for this weak slop is an embarrassment,” Lae’zel spat from her seat next to Tav. “Give me that,” she said as she grabbed the bottle from their hand, upturning it and consuming the rest of the foul liquid in one go.

Tav smiled amiably and patted her on the knee. “You’re *hiccup* lovely. I forgive you *hiccup* for takin’ my drink.”

Lae’zel stared at them, eyes widened to the size of saucers. Wyll, Shadowheart, and Karlach were nearly bursting at the seams to keep from laughing openly.

“I do not require your forgiveness, ska’keth,” she snapped.

Tav just giggle-hiccupped and smiled again. Looking to the rest of the party, they put a hand to their mouth and stage-whispered, “she’s a little grumpy, that one.”

At this, they all laughed uproariously. Lae’zel rolled her eyes, reaching for another bottle of alcohol piled near the rest of the camp supplies.

“YOU-GUYS,” Tav suddenly shouted in a slur, tottering over to snatch up a new bottle of Chultan Fireswill. “We should have a party. Like, right now, have a party.”

“FUCK YES!” Karlach cheered, chucking an empty mead bottle onto the ground with a resounding crash. “I’m all in, baby,” she said, reaching for an unopened bottle of Ithbank.

“Here, here,” Shadowheart echoed, raising her own bottle. “We could do with a bit of levity and foolishness, I think. Does anyone play an instrument? Some music would be lovely.”

“It’s been a few years but I believe I can still pluck a few tunes on the lyre. Let me give it a go,” Wyll replied, rummaging through his pack supplies to retrieve the instrument.

Moments later, he began plucking a jovial tune that had everyone besides Lae’zel tapping their feet and nodding to the music. After it finished, he continued with a dancing jig Tav was familiar with from the taverns in Waterdeep, although most of the footwork eluded them in their drunken state.

“Where’s Gale and Astarion?” Tav shouted in a sing-song voice, twirling around in a laughable attempt at dancing. “Wake their asses up and tell them we’re having a party!”

“No need for ass-waking, at least for me,” Gale called, joining the party from the direction of one of the abandoned houses. “No one can get an ounce of sleep with you lot frolicking around the fire.”

“GALE!” Tav shrieked as they dance-skipped over to him, tripping slightly and smashing into his chest. “You made it!”

Chivalrous as ever, the wizard kindly grabbed Tav’s arms to keep them upright and restore some semblance of balance to their swaying form. “Quite literally impossible to miss it, Tav. Your voice carries extraordinarily well,” he replied, chuckling.

Tav gave him a rueful smile. “I drank, jus’ a lil’,” they explained.

At this, his face broke into a wide grin. “I can certainly see that. Looks like I’ve got a lot of catching up to do if I'm to match the rest of you!”

He guided Tav over to where Shadowheart was sitting, delicately perched on an old traveler’s trunk near the fire. “Perhaps stay here while I go peruse our stockpile.”

Tav plopped down unceremoniously next to Shadowheart, who quirked a smile. “Enjoying ourselves are we?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” Tav sighed out. “Although it would be even better if Astarion joined us. Where IS he?” they asked, swiveling their head around the village square, hoping to spot his telltale white blonde locks.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. Maybe he caught himself a big bear and is drinking it dry,” Shadowheart said teasingly.

Tav nodded seriously, “He deserves the biggest bear, ever,” they said, absolutely failing to notice the joke.

Shadowheart scoffed. “Lovesick, little pup?”

Tav giggled, abruptly hiccupped, and then giggled again at that.

“He’s just beautiful,” they finally replied in a dreamy sort of voice.

And then, “Inside and out,” they added, more softly.

Shadowheart threw her head back with a laugh. “Oh gods! You really are lovesick.”

Tav hummed happily. “I think I am, but - OH MY GODS!”

“What?” Shadowheart shouted, startled and peering about to assess the apparently impending danger.

“I LOVE THIS SONG!” Tav shrieked, jumping to their feet and swaying about once more as Wyll began playing another lively tune.

Confession utterly forgotten, they were lost to the strumming of the lyre, spinning like a top that might never stop.

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

Astarion had not planned to eavesdrop on the conversation between Tav and Shadowheart as he made his way back toward the camp. Truly, he hadn’t. But, at the mention of his name from Tav, he couldn’t help but wonder what the conversation was about.

Stepping quietly around the corner of the decrepit tavern, he paused to listen. His heightened senses easily picked up on their voices as clear as if he would be standing next to them.

Tav had… feelings for him? Astarion didn’t know what to do with this information. Why were they admitting this so openly? And to a person they barely knew? Was this a ploy? Was Tav banking on him hearing this supposed confession and trying to lull him into some false sense of security? The paranoid part of his mind was absolutely convinced of it.

But no, surely that couldn’t be it, another more reasonable part of his brain asserted. Lost in his thoughts, he observed Tav whirling about the campfire with their bottle of booze spilling out. They accidentally doused Lae’zel with a spurt of liquid, causing the Githyanki to swear loudly and move to the other side of the campfire.

Astarion huffed a laugh. No, Tav was… many things… but devious was not one of them. He had observed them enough throughout their travels the last few days and had come to the conclusion that Tav was as harmless as a week-old pup to those they liked and trusted. They were genuine, transparent, and… open… to his utter confusion. And, okay yes, his considerable annoyance.

But Astarion was truly hard-pressed to remain annoyed at Tav for long. They were just so gods-damned pure. As pure as the sun’s rays. Being annoyed with them was like being annoyed at the sun for existing. It couldn’t help what it was. Tav couldn’t help who they were. It would be a mistake, a waste of time, to despise them for their nature.

He envied them for that. But above all else, if he were being totally honest with himself, he craved their attention just as much as he relished the actual sunbeams he’d been able to feel on his skin for the first time in over 200 years.

But still, Astarion had no idea how to process this revelation, that the-pure-sun-incarnate-Tav had love for him. Love. Not merely lust, desire, or attraction. Now those he was familiar with. Those had been a currency he’d transacted on Cazador’s behalf for so many years. But love? Love was an unknown concept to him. It had never been something he’d tried to cultivate in the minds of his victims. Astarion wasn’t even sure he understood what love actually was.

A series of loud bangs startled him from his circling thoughts. He looked up and chuckled at the sight he beheld.

Tav had found several scrolls of minor illusion in Gale’s packs and had begun to set off fireworks. Bright green, pink, and yellow sparks were careening into the sky, exploding into images of flowers and pixies to the utter delight of Tav. The rest of the party were loitering about, laughing at Tav as they clapped their hands in joy.

Seeing as this would perhaps be the best time to integrate himself into the party, Astarion strolled toward the campfire. Grabbing a bottle of some cheap swill they’d looted, he took a seat beside Shadowheart and nodded in a cheers sort of motion to the cleric. She raised her bottle in acknowledgement.

“Come to watch the wonder that is Tav utterly debauched?” she quipped.

“I must say, I rather like them like this, all uninhibited and bawdy” he replied, his eyes following Tav as they danced and gyrated their way over to Wyll, who was plucking out another familiar tavern tune.

“Wyll, do you know the song ‘The Amphail Girl’?” Tav asked too loudly, hiccupping.

“I do, but gods Tav, I don’t know that I’ve ever tried playing it,” Will admitted.

“Okay, okay,” Tav sighed in a mock-morose tone, stopping Wyll from playing by placing a hand on the lyre strings. “Then you must pass the lyre my friend and be ready to take some *hiccup* notes.”

Wyll, ever the good sport of the group, obliged Tav’s demand and relinquished the instrument.

Astarion chuckled. “Oh, dear. They’re not about to actually put on a performance, are they?” he asked in a somewhat-rhetorical question toward Shadowheart.

She chuckled. “It appears so. Liquid courage really does wonders, it seems.”

They both watched as Tav began plucking at the strings of the lyre until they stitched together the right tune. After a few beats of strumming, they began to sing.

“I took a stroll down the old long walk

Of the day I-ay-I-ay

I met a little girl and we stopped to talk

Of a fine soft day I-ay

And I ask you friends, what's a fella to do?

Because her hair was black and her eyes were blue

And I knew right then I been takin' a whirl

Down the Salthill Prom with an Amphail girl”

The entire party watched, enraptured, as Tav sang the lyrics in a beautiful, high tenor voice. Their hands never missed a chord, performing as though they knew the song by heart.

“Did you cast Guidance on them?” Astarion whispered to Shadowheart, as Tav strummed the bridge of the song.

“No, I haven’t touched my magic since this afternoon,” she replied. “This is all Tav. Shocking, considering how inebriated they are.”

It seemed the rest of the party members were in equal disbelief that their drunken compatriot could perform so flawlessly. Tav continued the song, smiling as they sang, eyes closed and blissfully unaware of the stares they had garnered.

“We were halfway there when the rain came down

On the day I-ay-I-ay

She asked me up to her flat downtown

On a fine soft day I-ay

And I ask you friends, what's a fella to do?

Because her hair was black and her eyes were blue

So I took her hand, and I gave her a twirl

Oh, and I lost my heart to an Amphail Girl”

And the longer Tav sang, the longer Astarion realized there were cracks now forming in his long-held aloof façade. There they were, singing with their heart and soul, radiating unobtrusive joy. Astarion was enamored by Tav’s utter lack of pretense. He couldn’t take his eyes off them, even if he had wanted to.

“When I woke up I was all alone

With a broken heart and a ticket home

And I ask you now, tell me what would you do?

If her hair was black and her eyes were blue

'Cause I've travelled around, I've been all over this world

Boys, I've never seen nothin' like an Amphail girl”

Tav concluded the song with a final series of strums. They opened their eyes slowly and looked around curiously at the party, as though they had forgotten where they had been before the song began. Astarion thought they had an almost ethereal look in their eyes. Everyone had grown quiet, the meaningful pause leading them toward more introspective thoughts.

Of course, that was before Tav doubled over and hurled the contents of their stomach on the ground. In a blink, that otherworldly moment was gone, and the party members groaned at the mess of ick now puddling in the center of their circle.

Tav wobbled on their feet, very nearly careening to the ground.

Strong arms caught them about the waist before they collapsed.

“Now, now darling, the fun is truly over, it seems. Let’s get you to bed, shall we?” Astarion coaxed, leading Tav toward the tavern.

“You alright taking care of them, then?” Karlach called after him and Tav.

“Yes, yes, I can keep the pup from choking on their vomit,” Astarion promised.

“And make sure they drink plenty of water!” Shadowheart added.

“Astarion?” Tav mumbled, seeming to finally come to, blinking up at the pale elf’s face.

“Yes, darling, I’ve got you,” he murmured, an arm wrapped solidly around Tav’s waist.

“Oh good. Did you get a beat grig bear? Oops,” Tav chuckled, grinning. “I meant a great… big… bear. Shadowheart *hiccup* said you would.”

Astarion didn’t have a bloody clue as to what Tav was talking about, but he nodded along, charmed by their innocent look of excitement.

“We should drink to celebrate!” they said suddenly.

Astarion well and truly laughed. “No, my dear, I think we’ve both done enough drinking for the night,” he responded.

Tav sighed. “I suppose you could be right,” they grumbled.

The two fell into a companionable silence. Astarion carefully walked Tav up the steps of the tavern and guided them toward an old boarding room near the back. There was a bed there, mostly left untouched by grime and pests. In any case, it was a more favorable alternative to sleeping on the ground.

Gently, Astarion pushed Tav to sit down on the edge of the bed. Crouching to his knees, he began pulling their boots off their feet. Tav watched in a daze before lifting a hand to cup Astarion’s cheek.

Concentrating on the laces of Tav’s boots, he hadn’t been expecting their touch. He jumped slightly in surprise. Casual touches were not something he was used to.

At his response, Tav removed their hand from his skin but kept it floating there in the air, as if unsure what to do.

“Sorry,” they murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Astarion held their gaze, pondering them thoughtfully. After a moment, he took Tav’s hand and returned it to his cheek.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I’m beginning not to mind those touches from you.”

Tav gave him a sleepy smile. “Thank you, Astarion,” they whispered and began to slump over onto the bed.

“No no, not yet you don’t,” Astarion said hastily, rising to his feet and walking over to fetch a carafe of water from his pack.

“Here. Drink all of this,” he said, extending the bottle to Tav.

“I don’t want water,” they said, frowning.

“Trust me, darling, you’ll thank me for it in the morning,” Astarion chuckled.

Tav gave a sullen huff. “Fine, but only because you asked.”

They downed the carafe in a couple of drinks before collapsing back onto the bed.

Satisfied that Tav wouldn’t perish from alcohol poisoning - at least not tonight - Astarion made to leave the room. A quiet voice gave him pause just as he was about to cross the threshold.

“Could you stay with me, please?” Tav whispered, watching Astarion through half-closed eyes.

Astarion balked inwardly. Staying in the same bed with Tav would mean something. To Tav. To him. Was he prepared for that? What would Tav expect from him then, in the days that followed? Was this a step toward some kind of commitment? Did he want that?

As the seconds ticked by, he watched Tav’s eyelids close completely. They may not have even been aware that they had uttered that request aloud. They certainly weren’t aware of the effect it had on Astarion. He could just as easily pretend not to have heard them and walk out the door, leaving things as they were between them now: a curious potential.

But watching Tav’s chest slowly rise and fall with peaceful breaths, Astarion felt that craving again. The desire to be in the warm sun. To be touched by the sun’s rays.

Fears be damned, he thought. At least for tonight. He could have this moment, he reasoned. He could have this one night.

And, climbing into bed next to Tav, a part of him thrilled at the way their body turned and curled into his. The complete and total trust they had in him, that he wouldn’t harm them. That he - Astarion - was a safe harbor in which they could rest.

The realization was too much to take in. So foreign. His mind couldn’t make sense of it.

But, as he lay there in the quiet, his hand gently brushing Tav’s locks back from their forehead, listening to their even breaths, Astarion knew one thing. Whatever this new feeling was that Tav was drawing out of him? He wanted more than just a few stolen moments of it.

#bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion #dancingbirdiewrites

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

Text

Make a move

summary: you think Aemond is too arrogant to woo you, but he's got some tricks up his sleeve. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x F!Reader words: ~ 6000 warnings: a bit of bickering and teasing, it gets slightly heated (Aemond has a praise kink, but I doubt anyone is surprised), mostly it's just silly fluff

author's note: this was inspired by "Crazy, stupid, love", particularly the scene where Emma kisses Ryan (one of my favorite on-screen kisses!) and everything that follows. I recently rewatched the movie and had an idea for this story. it's not smth I would usually write, but I couldn't get it out of my head (also, I may or may not have a thing for men's hands... you've been warned)

> English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes

You keep mindlessly tapping your fingers on the wooden table, your cup of wine untouched. You don't really notice the movement, too wrapped up in your thoughts, until your friend Margaret sneers.

"If you don't stop, I might bite your hand off," she says, sitting across the table.

"Then I'll use the other one," you huff but pause your fidgeting. "Better bite my head off, it will do us both more good."

"But I like your head very much," she pouts. "Is this about Thomas again?"

You groan, hiding your face in your hands and thinking back to the conversation you had earlier today with said man. Your emotions are a mix of annoyance and embarrassment as you can't stop thinking about his words.

"He said the meeting will be of great importance. What if he...? You know," you mutter, and Margaret huffs.

"I hope he won't."

"Hey, you are supposed to be my friend!" you playfully pinch her hand, and she fakes a gasp.

"I am your friend. And as your friend, I think you deserve way more than that sad excuse of a man," her face gets serious for a second, and you feel your smile waver.

"Mar, you know I don't have much of a choice," you breathe out, and your heart sinks at the thought. "He isn't that bad, really. He's always been kind to me."

"Sounds like every girl's dream," she rolls her eyes. "And you want to settle down for a kind man? Nothing else?"

"What do you think my options are? Please, enlighten me since I'm clearly missing something," you cross your arms on your chest. You know she's right and she means good, but your frustration gets the best of you.

Luckily, Margaret catches it and gives you a sympathetic smile.

"All I'm saying is that for as long as I can remember you've always dreamt of something more," she extends her hand across the table and lightly squeezes yours. "We've been friends since we were little kids, and you are the most loving person out of everyone I know. Should I remind you who taught me how to dance? Protected me against my idiot brothers?" you giggle at the memory. "You've got an adventurous spirit and a heart of gold. You deserve an epic love story," there's a hint of sadness in her voice.

For a minute you sink into your thoughts again.

"And you think Thomas is not the one?" you sigh.

"He's epically boring at best," Margaret takes a sip out of her cup. "I know he's not the one — and you do, too."

"My parents approve of him," you try to argue, but she's quick to object.

"They only care about your approval. And they mistakenly took your lack of protest for it," Margaret gives you a gloomy look.

"You are aware that I can't wait forever, right? I'm not getting any younger."

"Nor smarter," she snickers.

"Not everyone is lucky to meet the love of their life at the age of 12," you frown. Margaret and Jamie got married three years ago, but they have been betrothed for seven prior to that.

"Fair," she beams, and you can't stay irritated for long. They are still ridiculously in love with each other, and you are really happy for her. You just wish to feel that, too. You crave that indescribable feeling of longing and wanting and caring for someone else — and being loved just as much in return.

"Maybe the concept of love is overrated," you ramble. "It was easy to believe in when I was a kid but... As I'm growing older, it's getting harder to cling to hope, I guess. And I'm trying to make an effort and meet new people and... to show just enough character to not scare them away," you quote your mother. "Yet all of them just... Make me feel nothing. At all. And I...," you realize that Margaret isn't listening, her gaze is on something else behind your back. "Hey, I'm pouring out my heart of gold," you hiss, and her sight shifts to you. Before you can question her behavior, she informs:

"Someone's been keeping an eye on you."

"Margaret, I'm trying to have a serious conversation about my future," you fight the urge to turn around.

"Maybe this is your future!" she winks, and you grunt at her silliness.

"We are in a tavern out of all places! I'd rather take a kind man as my betrothed than a drunk one," you're about to scold her, but your friend's eyes go wide.

"His hair," her voice is barely above the whisper. "I can make out the strands of silver," Margaret slightly leans towards you. "You know what that means?"

"That you had too much wine? Maybe we should call it a night," you suggest, but your friend protests.

"Sit down!" she shushes. "He's coming over here," Margaret puts on a smile that looks painfully forged. The never-ending chattering of people around you makes your head hurt, and you're too tired to play along.

"Mar, it's been a long day, and the last thing I want is to waste my time entertaining some man's arrogance and...," you don't get to finish because he interrupts your train of thought.

"What if a man entertains you?" his voice is low and cocky. You close your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. You don't want to make a scene in a public place so you pull yourself together, thinking that you can talk your way out of this ridiculous situation.

But when you turn to him, your eyes meeting his, your plan is suddenly forgotten.

He's taller than you, a black cloak covering most of his body and his head, so your attention is naturally drawn to his face. He wears an eyepatch, and you look over his sharp features — his prominent nose, high cheekbones that flow down to the curved contour of lips, plump and alluring. Margaret was right about the hair, but she failed to mention the color of his eye. Taking that into account, it's not hard to guess that he's a Targaryen. Which means that he definitely is arrogant.

Well, two can play that game.

You ignore his question and pointedly don't stand up in his presence:

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"I believe the pleasure is all mine," he's only looking at you.

"We've just met, you should not jump to conclusions," you feel Margaret kicking your leg under the table but dismiss her warning.

"Sharp tongue," he notes.

"Will this be a problem?" you challenge him.

"On the contrary," it sounds like he's actually enjoying it.

It's tricky to read his intentions. But when his gaze is concentrated on you, it makes you feel like there's no one else in the room, and that sensation is thrilling.

"What brings you here, if I may ask?" you press, trying to ignore the unknown feeling creeping up on you.

"It's a nice tavern, wouldn't you say so? Since you are here, too."

"No, I mean what brings you to our table. There are plenty of others you could've graced with your presence".

"Something must've caught my eye," he says, and you see a glint of a smile on his lips.

"Some thing? Well, the interior isn't very eye-catching if you ask me. But we might have to disagree on that."

"You aren't very agreeable, it seems."

"That's what servants are for, and I'm not one," you're being defiant yet it doesn't bother him.

"Please, do tell me more about yourself," he swiftly pulls up a nearby chair and sits right next to you, his eye never leaving your face.

"Should you pull another one? For your ego, since it takes quite a lot of space."

He squints at your words, and the corners of his mouth turn into a grin.

"I think we have that in common," he bites back, but there's no anger in his voice. If anything, the man looks curious, and you have to admit that you don't take offense at his wit.

"Are there any other far-reaching conclusions that you managed to come up to?" you turn your body to him, so now you two are opposite each other.

"I only got here a few minutes ago. But I am a great observer should you give me a little more time."

"Am I supposed to take your word for it? You are not as convincing as you think," you impugn, so he pauses briefly.

"You don't trust people easily, do you? How's that for an observation," his voice gets quiet, but his gaze is piercing.

"Men," you correct him. "I don't trust men."

"Any of them dared to break your trust?" he gets a little closer, and you instinctively gravitate toward him.

"That would've required them to gain my trust first," you retort.

"And what would it take for me to do so?"

"Do you expect me to make it easy? That's not very observant of you," your grin matches his own.

"Nothing good comes easy," he murmurs, and you involuntarily lay your eyes on his lips. "But I expect it to be worth it."

You feel a pull toward him, something that's hard to describe but oh so natural to give into. His confidence isn't intimidating but rather attractive, and you can't help but notice how his gaze warms up your whole body. He makes you feel wanted without even doing anything.

But then you think of Thomas. Of the upcoming meeting and your future that depends on it. And you know you can't throw it all away for some silly conversation with a self-confident stranger. No matter how enjoyable it seems to be.

You bite your lip and look away from him.

"That's enough entertainment for today," you put some distance between you two. When you give him a quick glance, you catch a shadow of disappointment on his face.

"Didn't take you for a quitter," the blond comments.

"You should manage your expectations."

"Maybe I should manage yours," he has some nerve.

"That would be very time-consuming," you suddenly realize that he's sitting in your way, and it looks like he isn't going to move.

"Are you in a rush?"

"I am" — "She isn't," you and Margaret say at the same time. You feel your cheeks heating up as you give her a death stare.

"Has anyone told you that you look charming when you are embarrassed?" he remarks, and you want to wipe the smirk off his face. Preferably with your lips. You mentally scold yourself and push that thought away.

"Does this usually work for you?" you get up, thinking of a way out.

"You tell me," he leans back on his chair with a shit-eating grin on his face, clearly aware that he's blocking your exit.

"Cornering women in taverns is your way of flirting?" you think how to distract him, but nothing springs to mind. "And then what, you just drag them into your man cave?"

"They come voluntarily," it looks like your words struck a chord, but he keeps up the facade of indifference. "I happen to live nearby," he notes casually.

"We both know that's not exactly true," you scoff with a tilt of your head. You are positive that the walk to the castle will take at least thirty minutes.

"Want to bet?" he sits up straight.

"And what do I get out of this?"

He looks you up and down before answering:

"Me."

He's pushing his luck at this point.

You glance around and take note that the tavern is packed with people, and no one is paying attention to you. You also realize that Margaret already sneaked out and is standing at the door. She raises an eyebrow with a silent question, as if asking what are you going to do.

That's when you decide you can push some boundaries, too.

Your eyes are back on the man in front of you. Without giving it a second thought, you step closer to him.

"Was that supposed to make me weak in the knees?" you whisper, and his face expression melts into an amused one. Seizing the moment, you yank your dress up and throw a leg over him. He immediately looks down at the exposed skin of your thigh, his mouth is slightly agape as he's now sitting between your legs. You see him tensing up, his fingers clenching into fists as if he's fighting the urge to put his hands on you. You think that if he does, you're not going anywhere. You wouldn't want to go anywhere — the realization makes you tremble, and you know that you don't have much time.

You boldly place your hand on his shoulder, pressing him back onto the chair.

"I hate to break it to you, but you are not that impressive," you say, throwing your other leg over him and successfully moving away.

When you get to the door, the look on Margaret's face is priceless. You grab her by the arm and drag her outside in a hurry, merging into the crowd of passers-by.

"I need you to explain what the h...," she starts, but you interrupt her.

"Please, don't," you snarl. "Don't say anything, just give me five minutes."

You can't even explain to yourself what happened back there and why you did that. You think of his gaze roaming over your body, the depth of his voice and the curves of his lips. You tell yourself that you need to get him out of your head as soon as possible. You fail miserably.

One week later, you're dining with Thomas at his house, and yet your mind wanders back to the arrogant one-eyed man. Aemond, as you've learned — and it wasn't that you wanted to, but fate had other plans.

And by fate, you mean Margaret.

Once her five minutes were up, she couldn't stop talking. By the time you came home, you got his whole backstory — the second-born son of the King, has two brothers and two sisters, rides the biggest dragon in the world. Overly confident, stubborn, wears an eyepatch because he doesn't want to scare the ladies of the court. Usually doesn't talk much.

Unlike Thomas who gathered his whole family and can't stop blabbing. You struggle to participate in their conversation, giving polite smiles left and right. You don't know what to expect of the evening, and it makes you nervous. And not in a good way. All of a sudden the possibility of marrying Thomas doesn't seem to be the best.

From the corner of your eye, you catch him standing up, clearly readying himself for a speech. He has a manner of pursing his lips every time he's agitated, and it looks weird. That's also how it felt when he kissed you, which is probably the reason you haven't done much kissing after that. You wonder what it's like to kiss Aemond. Just thinking of it makes your heart rate speed up, and you nervously gulp half a cup of wine.

"I gathered all of you today to make an important announcement," he starts his pompous monologue, "that may not come as a surprise to some of you."

You cautiously look at the door.

"But, as of recently, I received inspiration to change the course of my life. And I decided to devote myself to the service of Gods".

You nearly choke on your drink. In all the years you've known Thomas, he's never been to a chapel once.

"And I wanted to grant you this privilege to be the first ones to know."

You've got to be kidding me. You wait for any other announcements — literally anything else — but Thomas goes back to chattering, also accepting pointless congratulations. It takes you ten painfully long minutes to get a chance to talk to him alone.

"May I have a word?" you inquire, and the two of you move to the far end of the room.

"It's about your speech," you clarify. "It might sound silly, but I thought that you were planning... Um," you're trying to formulate your concerns. "I was wondering, how would you describe our relationship? Or the prospect of it, I should say," you give him a tight smile.

"Oh," his face pales slightly.

Your facial expression mirrors his. "Oh"?

"I am actually glad you asked," he awkwardly takes your hands in his, and you notice how sweaty his palms are.

"You know, Y/N, you've been a great companion of mine," his voice is as weak as his smile. "And I am forever grateful for those moments that we shared as they only brought me joy," his hands feel like jelly, and you don't want to hold them. Like, ever.

"But now that I'm choosing to follow my destiny," you do your best to suppress a chuckle at his dramatic phrasing. "I decided that... I need some time to figure out how I feel. About us."

You look at him, dumbfounded, his words sinking in.

"You need... some time?" you drawl, feeling an emotion bubbling up in your chest. You are not sure what it is. "You? Need to think about us?" you repeat, and he nods, his brows furrowed at your reaction.

There's a moment of silence, and then you hear yourself laughing. You can't control it as you're overcome with emotion, your laughter only growing stronger, to the point of you tearing up a bit. The emotion is relief. There's no way you'll ever marry this man.

"I am the one who should be glad, Thomas," you shake his hand while he seems wildly perplexed, all of his guests staring at you. "Thank you for your honesty, really. I hope you will be successful in all your endeavors, marriage included."

He opens his mouth to say something, but you already turned around.

"Y/N? Where are you going?!"

You stop for a second, your thoughts rushing back to the conversation with Margaret. To that evening in the tavern.

"I have a meeting, it's of great importance," you say and quicken your pace. You reach the tavern when it's already getting dark, the weather is cloudy, and your coat is wet in the light drizzle. You walk in a daze as you're torn between being excited and anxious. There is a chance that Aemond won't be there. That he doesn't remember you. That he's with someone else. That he had a change of heart. That he...

You spot him almost immediately after you walk in.

Coincidentally or not, he's sitting at the exact same table you were at the first time you met. You stay still as his eye absentmindedly wanders around the room and then lands on you. Aemond stands up — way too quickly — and you see a well-known grin growing on his face. Your eyes dart to his lips, and the question pops up in your head again.

You feel the pull — and before you can think, your body follows it.

He keeps his gaze on you, his brows rising at the speed of your approach. You cover the distance in a heartbeat, your hands reaching his face, and he slightly flinches, probably because your fingers are cold from being outside. And then you stand on your tiptoes and crash your lips onto his without any hesitation.

He gasps, surprised and frozen for a moment. It takes just a couple of seconds for him to melt into the kiss, and his hands are instantly on your waist, pulling you closer to him. Aemond's lips are way softer than you anticipated — and it's the only thing on your mind. His mouth on yours, warm and exploring, the slow pacing of the kiss that leaves you lightheaded and yearning for more.

He presses your body into his, lifting you up with ease, and your feet leave the ground. You tug his hood further down so it covers most of your face, too, and then you slide your thumb up the sharp line of his jaw. His tongue runs over your lower lip, and you feel a wave of heat rising in your stomach.

You pull away before you can take it too far.

"You remember me?" you ask him, panting.

He hums, his eye focused on your lips.

"Still believe that nothing good comes easy?" you mimic his words, but he ignores your jesting.

"Definitely," Aemond looks you in the eyes, keeping his hands on your waist.

"Is the bet still on?"

"Yes," the corners of his mouth curl.

"Lead the way, then." By the time you reach the castle, the rain is pouring in full force, and your clothes are drenched. The two of you rush through the streets, your hands intertwined, and it feels like it only takes about ten minutes before you sneak into his chambers, both out of breath and giggling.

Only when you take a look around the unfamiliar settings, it suddenly dawns on you that you are all alone with a man you barely know, and your bravery starts fading away.

Whether Aemond notices the change in your mood or not, you can't tell, but he respectfully keeps his distance.

"You need to get out of these," he points at your coat and dress. "They're soaking wet."

"Is this your way of trying to get me naked?" you eye him suspiciously, making Aemond scoff.

"I just don't want you to catch a cold," he honestly states. "I'll fetch you a shirt of mine." Sensing your doubts, he adds: "Don't worry, it's long enough."

He brings you the shirt and politely turns away, going to the other end of the room to light the fireplace. On his way there, he removes the cloak and the jacket, his upper body only covered by the same piece of clothing he gave you. You watch him carefully, noting the movement of his back muscles as he bends down.

The sparkling glow of fire brings you back to reality, and you hastily remove your clothes, leaving the undergarments on, which are luckily dry. You put on his shirt, and it barely reaches your knees, but the material feels nice and comfortable. While Aemond is still busy with the fire, you glance over his room.

It's spacious and simply furnished, and your attention is drawn to a couple of shelves nearby. You look at the tightly packed rows of books, some of the hardcovers are worn out from old age. You catch the familiar naming and pull one of them out, gently flipping through the pages.

"You take interest in philosophy?" his voice startles you. You missed the moment he came back, and when you take your eyes off the book, you see him leaning on the nearest shelf, looking at you inquisitively.

"I do, indeed," you confess. "And I read this one so many times, my own copy pretty much fell apart."

"You can take mine," Aemond offers.

You notice that despite his cockiness, his presence is actually very calming. Everything is easy with him — striking up conversations, making jokes, flirting. Taking his hand in yours, running in the rain. Kissing.

Your heart skips a beat, and you sheepishly move on to another topic:

"Shouldn't you change as well?" you refer to his shirt, but he shakes his head:

"No need."

"Oh, was it the Targaryen's dragon blood that helped you dry up?" you tend to jest when you're nervous, and right now is no exception.

"My cloak is too thick for the water to soak through. But I like your version, too," his lips ripple into a smile.

You can help but smile back: "Thank you for the shirt."

"It looks really good on you," the words smoothly roll off his tongue and ignite the familiar burning deep in your core. He keeps his gaze on your face, your eyes locking for a moment.

You look away first, letting out a timid laugh:

"I must admit, I like this way of flirting better," you place the book back. "But you can cut it short. What's your move?"

"My... move?" Aemond gives you a quizzical look.

"Yes, your big move. Show me," you request eagerly.

"Don't know what you're talking about," he looks down, his aplomb faltering.

"What do you usually do to impress a lady?"

"I don't really need to do anything," Aemond shrugs.

"What a humble individual you are," you chuckle and give him a minute to think.

"So what is it?"

"I just told you...," it seems like he's trying to dodge the topic, which only sparks your curiosity.

"Oh, come on! You guys always have a move. Let me guess, you speak to her in High Valyrian? Men like to talk big," he snorts. "No? Win her over with your...," you gesture at his bookshelves, "...precious collection? Although it's a risky move because what if she's not into reading, that would be awkward" and then it hits you. "Wait, it's the dragon, isn't it? You show her your dragon? Got to make sure it's well-fed, though, otherwise you'll have a date with a roasted —"

"It's my sword," he cuts you off, and you swear you can see him blushing at the confession.

"Um, your sword? Is this a metaphor for someth…"

"Gods, no. I mean the actual sword. The one you grip with your hand and poke people with."

"That description didn't help," you tease, and he groans.

"You know what I mean," Aemond gives you a pointed look, but his face flushed pink, and you can't take him seriously.

"I do, you just look really cute when you are embarrassed," you say cheekily, which makes him huff.

"My apologies. Please elaborate on the sword. How does it work?"

Aemond hesitates but then realizes that you will never let it go, so he gives in:

"I bring my training into the conversation. And then I... show them," he talks with his hands when he's uncomfortable, and you find it endearing.

"And that's it?"

"Pretty much," Aemond nods.

"They watch you train, and that's what does it for the ladies?"

"I don't know why, I never gave it much thought."

"Well, someone should. Can't imagine it ever working on me."

You feel a sudden shift in the air as Aemond slowly looks up at you. You're standing a couple of meters apart, and he's yet to initiate anything, but once again, it only takes a look from him for you to feel a familiar flare-up of the tantalizing desire.

"I'm not going to take you to the training yard in the pouring rain," he concludes.

"But it's not about the place, is it? Must be something about you," now you're the one champing at the bit to see what the fuss is all about.

"I don't have a sword on me."

"Opt for something smaller, I'm sure it will do," you hint at the dagger that you've seen him carry, and wait expectantly for him to agree.

Aemond reluctantly contemplates your suggestion, then sighs and goes to get his dagger which he left next to the cloak.

You wonder if the ladies are attracted to his competitive spirit. If they enjoy the feeling of danger they get at the sight of steel, the cold shine of it, the clang of swords. Or maybe it's the urge to take sides and root for the winner?

And then you see Aemond rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, — and your breath suddenly hitches.

The room is lit by fire, the warmth of it illuminating his skin, casting shadows that frame every muscle of his arms. He takes the dagger in one hand, the movement fast and honed, and your eyes follow it. You notice the scattering of his veins that go down his wrist and into his palm, the blue lines tightening with every swirl. The silver blade catches and reflects the light, but you're focused solely on his flexing muscles.

He's maneuvering the dagger with ease, almost carelessly, yet you know that every motion is well-practiced through years of training. His long fingers grip the hilt, revealing the sharp outline of his knuckles. The steel silently cuts through the air, again and again, but your eyes are glued to his hands. The way they move, the power that he holds in them. The things he can do with them, with his fingers. The way they will feel on your bare skin and in your... You swallow, letting out a shuddered breath.

"Are you weak in the knees yet?" his words bring you out of your trance, and you blink a couple of times, trying to shake the feeling off. Your body is so heated, you're surprised you're not sweating yet.

"Is this the point when the ladies throw themselves at you?" your voice is hoarse, and you take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself.

Aemond stops his movements. You feel your skin tingling with anticipation, waiting for him to finish what he started, but he doesn't budge. For a short while, you're taken aback by the change in his demeanor — and the realization strikes you:

"Wait, how many ladies were here before me?"

"I never said I take them here," he puts the dagger back in its sheath, averting his gaze.

"But you told me that you do your... thing with the sword for them."

"In the training yard, with other people around us, yes."

"So then you just leave them all hot and bothered? Aemond, that is cruel," his actions confuse you, but while you're looking for an explanation, he turns back to you and finally meets your gaze.

"It would've been cruel to lead them on when I feel nothing for them," he reveals, and you discern the raw honesty in his words. And you know exactly what he means. It's the tiresome attempts to find someone who will spark your interest, to spot a connection, all of those efforts leading nowhere and making you feel like you're the one at fault. But you aren't — and he isn't, either.

Aemond looks almost ashamed of letting out something so personal, but you welcome the intimacy of this moment.

"I shall consider myself lucky, then," you say softly.

He gives you that same look that makes you feel like the world around you disappears.

"You are... something else," Aemond mumbles.

You guess that he isn't used to being straightforward about his feelings, nor does he know how to express his affection with words. You really, really want to kiss him again.

The boyish grin reappears on his face:

"Did you mean I left you all hot and bothered?" Aemond narrows his eye.

"I never said that," you smile coyly. "Maybe you should've tried a little harder."

"I happen to have some tricks up my sleeve," he takes a step towards you and, before you can ask for details, you feel his fingers on your ribs as he starts tickling you, and you immediately burst into laughter.

His touches are light, fingers grazing against your clothed skin as he subtly moves you further into the room until your legs bump into his bed. Losing your balance, you fall on it, your back met with the fluffiness of thick blankets. Aemond hovers over you, and you can't stop giggling, trying to wiggle away from his tickles.

Wrapped up in the moment, you make a careless move, your hand brushing up his cheek — and you suddenly see a bright gleam of blue on the right side of his face.

Aemond freezes at the spot, halting his actions, and momentarily flinches away. You are gawking at the sapphire, unable to form a coherent sentence.

He makes a move to fix his eyepatch, but you stop him.

"Don't," you catch his hand mid-air, your grip delicate but firm, and he doesn't fight it. You would've been surprised by your own quick reaction if only your mind wasn't completely occupied with the sight in front of you.

It looks like the gem absorbs all the light in the room, shimmering with various shades of blue. It's cut in a way to imitate a surface of an eye, the sides of the sapphire polished and blending into each other. There's a depth to it, bright sparkles drowning in a color that's close to black, and the spillovers are mesmerizing.

You bring your hand closer to his face, to the area that's been left covered and unloved, and touch the skin with the tip of your finger. He lets you.

"Wow," you breathe out, gently tracing his scar. "This is the most badass thing I've ever seen."

Aemond looks at you in disbelief, his eye fixed on your face, and his lips parted.

"...What?" he manages to ask.

"You look like a pirate. A really badass... sky pirate?" you suggest, and he lets out a light chuckle, still not entirely sure he believes you.

So you shamelessly continue:

"A pirate with his own dragon. The largest one in the Seven Kingdoms as I've heard," you can almost feel him swelling with pride. "He charms the ladies with his fighting skills — and has a gem for an eye? Incredibly irresistible," your index finger circles the area around his sapphire.

He listens attentively, holding his breath.

"A prince who is as good with his sword as he is with his wit, fond of reading and isn't averse to mischief. Any lady of the court would've been fortunate to get a hold of such treasure," you remove the eyepatch and tenderly cradle his face. "Yet I am the one who's been honored to see all of him," you glance from the bright gemstone to his eye and back. "Honestly, it's kind of hard to pick which one I like more...," you're barely able to notice him sharply lower his head, and your words die down.

Without a warning, Aemond covers your lips with his, the intensity of the kiss pulling the air out of your lungs right away. He's been holding back the first time, but he isn't now, and the passion sets you ablaze. His tongue slips into your mouth, easily tangling with yours, and you moan at the contact. Aemond skilfully unbuttons your shirt, and the second his fingers touch your skin, you shiver, the quivering sensation washing over you. His hands slowly slide down your ribcage, tracing the curves of your body, making your back arch, your chest flush against his, your heart pounding. He contours the bend of your hips, then presses his palms there, his touches rough, claiming, burning. You move your fingers up the base of his neck and run them through his hair, and he releases a shaky sigh. Aemond relishes in the feeling of your compliance, the fervor of it, your body being so needy and welcoming, until you are both gasping for air.

"Was that impressive enough?" he rasps, and you look up at him through your lashes, spellbound and breathless. His pupil is dilated, gaze clouded with lust, your noses adjoin.

"Yeah-yes. Yes, very," you utter, at a loss for words.

"Good. Because I'm about to outdo myself," he tightens his grip on your thighs, picking you up and moving into the middle of the bed. Your head barely touches the pillow when his lips are on yours again.

🔥 my masterlist

#aemond targaryen x reader #not gonna lie the main reason I'm finally posting this is because a few ppl on AO3 liked it and it gave me a *little* boost of confidence #kinda??? I mean it also took me a few days of trying to convince myself to post it on tumblr #(also I've been staring at this draft for 4 hours)#my confidence is non-existent lmao #my stuff #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #oh god how many tags can I come up with #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond targaryen fics #hotd fanfiction

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