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patrophthia · 1 year

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red ears, and redder strings | theodore n.

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: red string soulmate!au, fluff, slight humor, slight very slight angst, confused feelings, unrequited love but also not really?, not beta read

wc: 7.2k

this is a request ! thank you anon!! it’s so cute i loved writing this :>

there’s two OC, one of them is named mark, hufflepuff (based off of nct mark, i love that lil canadian guy) and elio. i also wrote theodore based off of nct’s jaehyun and sungchan hehe.

taglist: @mersmoon @pleasingregulus @l--absinthe

"I'm going to need a favour from you," I say first, his eye brows rising slightly at my words. "I need you to keep us being soulmates a secret."

"It's not you, I promise," I added quickly. "I'm sure you're a great guy, you're very handsome too but I'm just— I can't just let faith decide on who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. It's like I don't have a choice with what goes on in my life; and I can't ... have that."

"So I'm begging you, please," I plead. "Please, don't tell anyone about what we are."

"I can pay you." I offered. And If Nott wasn't so caught off guards by how I was able to say the exact things he had planned to say 30 minutes before, he would've laugh at the prospect of being paid when he already had a fortune in his hands. "I don't have much but I could also do your work for the year, just don't," I pause, "tell anyone until I'm ready, please."

Theodore won't admit it but he feels impress. Because deep down, the Slytherin in him would've never been able to beg for something the way I'd just beg of him. And if he wasn't so taken aback by how I basically read his mind, he would've said something more coherent than: "Okay."

"Okay." I repeated his words, nodding. And even though he didn't audibly give me a reason to trust him on it, I knew that he meant it.

A part of me thinks that that must've been why we were soulmates because why else would I so blindly trust him on this secret of ours.

Tug. Tug. Tug. Blaise has been tugging at Theodore's pinky for the last five minutes now. Doing it over and over just to get a rise out of the brunet. But Theodore, quite honestly, couldn't care less as he watched the string tied around his pinky finger bounce with each pull of Zabini's hand.

Blaise, like the menace he is, enjoys bothering his best friend by pulling at the red string of his, but seeing as he couldn't actually see the string, the Slytherin has settled with just laying on Theodore's bed and repeatedly pulling at his pinky which sported the string instead.

"Honestly Nott, why are you so against finding your soulmate? We both know they're in this school so why won't you just make the effort to find them?" Blaise asks, pulling at his pale pinky once more. "Here I am, balls deep into finding mine and I find out that they're all the way in Durmstrang. Do you realise just how lucky you are?"

"Zabini stop," their other dorm mate, Elio, tsked. "Maybe he's just not ready to find them yet."

Blaise turns from his position on Theodore's bed to look at Elio. Retorting, "or maybe he just doesn't want to find them?"

"And that's okay," Elio replied with a roll of his eyes. "I'm sure he has a reason."

Blaise's attention shifts back to Theodore. "And that is?"

Theodore clears his throat, "I just don't want one."

Blaise squints his eyes, "uh huh," he lets out in disbelief. "Somehow I don't believe that."

"Okay," he murmurs, "I just don't like the concept of soulmates."

"And that's all to it?" Elio asks, fixing his tie as he listens into Theodore and Blaise's conversation.

"Yes." And when neither Blaise nor Elio seemed to believe him, he added. "And I'm tired of people pretending to be my soulmate despite the fact that I could clearly see they aren't."

"People have done that?" Elio asked, perplexed at the complex.

"For the right price people would do anything." Theodore mumbled, and when he noticed that Elio was heading out the door, he asked. "Where are you going?"

"I'm meeting Mark at the library," Elio says with a blissful smile. "I'll see you at dinner."

When Elio finally leaves, Blaise turns to Theodore with a dumbfounded look. "Mark?"

Theodore feels his pinky being pulled once more. "His soulmate."

On the other side of the castle, Mark watches as I throw my head on the table —albeit, dramatically, a groan slipping from my lips. Mark giggles, his nose scrunching along with it as he asks me what was wrong.

I lift my left hand up and into his line of sight, his giggles turning into a full blown laugh as my pinky pulls itself over and over in the same direction. "They're doing it again?"

"They're doing it again," I mumbled, lifting my head back up to look at my finger. "It's so annoying. I'm going to punch their face in the second I see them."

"That's a bit extreme," Mark says lightly. "Just tell them to stop doing it or something."

"Why do that when I can result to violence." I replied, tugging at the string as a sign for them to stop. "They do it all the time, it's so irritating."

"Well at least you know they're close by," Mark states, going back to his book. "Or else you wouldn't be able to even feel their pulls."

"Yeah." I nodded. "I guess that's something."

"What?" Mark asks, sensing a slight shift in the atmosphere. "Do you not want to find them?"

I shrug, "not really."

"Why not?" Mark follows up, abandoning his work completely.

"I just think that I shouldn't let the universe decide on who I spend the rest of my life with, is all," I say. "I want to make that decision myself."

Mark nods, humming, "I see where you're coming from." Understanding as ever. "But I also think it's nice that there's someone out there who will always be by your side no matter what, whether it be platonic or romantic, you know?"

"But that's not guaranteed, is it?" I counter. "I've heard stories where people found their soulmates but they didn't care for one another at all. I mean, at the end of the day, soulmates can't actually be soulmates if one doesn't reciprocate the other's feelings. So why try finding them at all if you're going to find out that they want nothing to do with you?"

"But what if they do," Mark argued.

"But what if they don't."

Mark sighs, "and if they do?"

"And if they don't—"

"Hi." I was cut off. "Shit! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you," says Elio, eyes wide and apologetic. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Soulmates actually," Mark says with a smile, his pupils dilating at the sight of Elio. "Why are you here?"

Mark and Elio found out that they were each other's soulmate on the train ride over. Elio couldn't find his friend's carriage on the Hogswart Express and we were lucky enough to have empty space for the Slytherin.

"I wanted to see if you wanted to have dinner with me," Elio says. "And I also wanted you to meet my friends."

Who were, if I remembered correctly, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott.

"Oh," Mark glances at me, then back at Elio. "This afternoon?"

"Yeah," Elio nodded. And I sense that he wanted to add 'when else' but held back against it. "At the Slytherin table, Is that okay?"

"Sure," Mark says, nodding quickly. "I'll see you."

Elio breaks into a smile, bidding a goodbye as he turns on his heels. "You're coming with me," Mark says the second Elio was far enough to not overhear us. "No arguments."

Two Hufflepuffs sitting idly chatting with four well known Slytherins must've been a weird sight for anyone that passes by. But Mark was having a fun time and that's all that matters.

Or to me at least. Mark sat to my left, with Elio sitting opposite him. Zabini was on my right, with Malfoy in front of him; leaving Nott right in front of me.

"Are you taking potions?" Zabini asks, trying to make conversation, seeing as Mark and Elio were the only people in this table who actually knew one another.

"Yep," I replied, placing my utensils down. "Are you?"

"The four of us are," Malfoy snickered. "At least there's two more tolerable people in that class with us."

Glad to know Malfoy found Mark and I tolerable. "So . . ." I drew out, thinking of anything we could chat about. "What did you guys do this summer?"

"Blaise dragged us to Europe to find his soulmate," Malfoy answered bitterly.

"Oh." The better part of me was intrigued, wanting to know if he did find them. I turned to Zabini beside me. "Did you find them?"

"No," he says, a slightly disappointed look on his face. "Too many students at Durmstrang and too little time."

"Well there's always next year," I say, trying to encourage him.

Zabini hums in agreement. "What about you? Have you found yours yet?"

Elio called out my name before I could answer his friend, and when I turned to him, he held out a goblet filled with pumpkin juice for me to take. Reaching for the glass, I felt a tug at my pinkie but paid no heed to it as I took the goblet from Elio's hand. Resting it on the table, my eyes caught onto a twinkle of red glowing right in front of me.

With furrowed brows, my line of sight found its way to the seat opposing mine, and along with it, the person who took the spot. Red string wrapped around his left pinkie, just like mine. Glowing slightly under the candle light.

Realisation settles in as I slowly look up at Nott, taking in his blank wide eyed expression that seemed to be processing the same information as I was.

Just to be sure, my hand reaches upwards to rub at my eyes before my vision falls back once more to my left pinkie, then the red string that connects me to the boy right in front of me.

Theodore Nott was my soulmate.

"Can you pass me the salt?" Malfoy asks Nott from his side, causing the brunet to break out of his trance.

Our eyes met for the briefest second, unspoken understanding warming up within me. And when Nott shifts his attention to where the salt currently resides, the tip of his ears shined as red as the string tethering us to one another.

The Marauders map is a great stalker tool to have. I didn't have it per se, but I knew people who did and they were kind enough to lend it to me when I needed it. I owe Harry a favour for this.

My eyes glance between the footsteps on the map tagged: Theodore Nott, and the corridor in front of me. Trying to be as quiet as I could with each corner I turn, if I were to get caught chasing some guy who seemed to be coming my direction at eleven P.M at night then who knows the kind of punishment I would get.

Theodore was walking with purpose when I found him. He walked with enough purpose for me to need to jog after him just to catch up. A hand latches onto his wrist, pulling him into one of the many secret corridors Hogswart held.

"Hi," I said breathlessly, panting as I watched him decide between fighting or flighting. He seemed to have found me harmless, settling on just gazing down at me instead. "Just give me a second to catch my breath."

There were many things he didn't say, just observing as I tried to calm myself down. I noticed a few things then about him, he was tall, lanky even, his doe eyes and hair the direct contrast of his pale skin, and his jawline was sharp enough to cut through wood.

"Uhm—" I stood up to my full height and found that I had to peer up at him. Freakishly tall motherfucker. "—I'm not going to waste your time by beating around the bush, so I'm just going to spill it."

"Actually I needed to have a word with you," he murmurs. And I have to reel myself over because that must've been the first time I heard him speak.

"Well, I found you first so I speak first," I tell him with a tight lip smile. "You can speak after okay? Okay."

His eyes squinted and I could tell that he was frustrated with not being able to get his words in.

"I'm going to need a favour from you," I say first, his eye brows rising slightly at my words. "I need you to keep us being soulmates a secret."

"It's not you, I promise," I added quickly. "I'm sure you're a great guy, you're very handsome too but I'm just— I can't just let fate decide on who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. It's like I don't have a choice with what goes on in my life; and I can't ... have that."

"So I'm begging you, please," I plead. "Please, don't tell anyone about what we are."

"I can pay you." I offered. And If Nott wasn't so caught off guard by how I was able to say the exact things he had planned to say 30 minutes before, he would've laughed at the prospect of being paid when he already had a fortune in his hands. "I don't have much but I could also do your work for the year, just don't," I pause, "tell anyone until I'm ready, please."

Theodore won't admit it but he feels impressed. Because deep down, the Slytherin in him would've never been able to beg for something the way I'd just beg of him. And if he wasn't so taken aback by how I basically read his mind, he would've said something more coherent than: "Okay."

"Okay." I repeated his words, nodding. And even though he didn't audibly give me a reason to trust him on it, I knew that he meant it.

A part of me thinks that that must've been why we were soulmates because why else would I so blindly trust him on this secret of ours.

Platonic soulmates. That's what Theodore and I decided on. Well not really, Theodore had brought up the idea of cutting our soulmate ties completely with a spell he'd found but the Hufflepuff in me couldn't actually go through with the idea so we decided on platonic soulmates. Or just classmates who are hiding a secret that would blow up in their faces if anyone found out.

Hogsmeade weekend came faster this year; Mark and I (along with four other Slytherins who'd found their way into our friend group) were lucky enough to make the trip.

It hasn't begun snowing yet, although the weather sure felt like it. The temperature was warmer this morning, which was why I found it unnecessary to bring my jacket, and now, in hindsight, I see that that was a terrible idea.

It was getting late, and the weather was not getting warmer at all. "Dude, are you okay?" Mark asks. Dude must sound weird to the other four pure bloods. But dude, to me, was Mark showing that he cared for me. "You've been shivering for the past five minutes."

"I'm fine," I say, a clear lie and we all know it. "I'll just cast a warming spell, don't worry."

Mark's brow furrowed, "are you sure? Here—" he shrugs off his coat, "—just wear mine."

I didn't have to look around to know that the four Slytherin were watching us. And under any other circumstances I would gladly take Mark's jacket, but that was a somewhat intimate thing to do. Especially in front of his soulmate, so, like the civilised person I am, I shook my head and cast a warming spell on myself.

"Dude stop being stubborn, you're literally freezing."

"And I look good doing it so just take your coat, Mark." I argued.

"Okay then." He sighs. "If that's what you want."It's not. Mark pulls his coat back on as he continues walking down the Hogsmeade streets with the rest of us behind him and Elio. "So where should we go next?"

A grasp on my elbow, takes my attention away from Malfoy's answer to Mark's question. I look down, finding slim hands holding onto me. My gaze trails upward to find Theodore who had halted both our steps as he shrugs off his coat.

The brunet nudges it forward, wordlessly offering it for me to take. And when I shook my head, feeling uneasy at the prospect of making him suffer the harsh weather if I did take his jacket. He insists: "It's fine," he says, nudging it forward once more, the red string on his pinkie clear as ever. "I run hot."

"And is cold blooded," Zabini snickered to receive a glare from Nott. I stifled a giggle, finally feeling at ease with the two of them. Zabini's demeanour seems to soften at my half assed attempt to hide a laugh, and tells me to: "Just take it."

Okay. Fine. I will take it. The cold was biting my ass anyways. I reached out for the jacket but was pleasantly surprised when Nott helped me into it instead. "Thank you," I murmured.

Theodore, or at least his coat, smells like a combination of things that I could only assume he likes; things like: the sea, books whether it be old or new, earl grey tea, bearded irises, and vanilla.

Nott only hums at my gratitude, listening back into Mark's conversation with Malfoy.

"You never did tell me whether you found your soulmate yet," Zabini says suddenly. "Have you?"

"No," I answered, and unlike earlier, he actually believes in this lie of mine. "And I'm not really looking for one either."

"Funny," Blaise says with a mischievous smile. "That's what Nott also said." Not exactly, but it was something along that line. "Are you sure you're not each other's soulmate?"

From the corner of my eyes, I spy the tip of Theodore's ears flushing. The pink contrasting his dark features adorably. His face showed no emotion, his brown doe eyes rolling with feign annoyance. "I'm pretty sure I'd know my soulmate if I saw them as often as I see her, Zabini."

"Wish it were that easy," I mumbled, adding onto the illusion of us not being tied to each other. "I'll let you know when I find out who they are though."

"Really?" He says testingly.

"If you're so invested in it then yes."

He smirks, "let's hope you keep your promise then, princess."

Little did Zabini know, his promise had already been broken.

Faith must've been playing some kind of sick joke. I knew that I'd be taking potions with the four Slytherin, but for me to be studying a love potion on the first day I had class with my 'soulmate' was just plain evil.

And I think, something along the lines of Professor Slughorn making Nott and I be the first to take a gander at the potion, to smell it and to describe what it smelled like to us, was even more cruel.

A glance at Nott, and another at the brewing pot in front of us, had me taking in a deep breath as I prepared myself for what's to come. I took a step forward, Nott to my side, and leaned forward to take a sniff at the potion.

The first round of scents were pleasant, home cooked meals, the smell of my clean room after a tiring day, my favourite snack and the likes of it. Then the second waft of the potion hits and I wondered whether it was what I was actually attracted to or what I was supposed to be attracted to since all I could smell was nothing but Nott.

Or at least the scent of his coat; sea salt, books, vanilla and a hint of his (what I think is) argan oil shampoo, which I assumed I could only smell because he was so close by.

"So?" Professor Slughorn egged us on with a smile. "Tell us what you smell."

Nott and I shared a look and I knew then that we could only smell one another. "The sea," I took the initiative to speak first. "Vanilla."

"Is that all?" Asks the Professor. "Is there a special someone you smell?"

Yes. Is what I didn't say, only shaking my head as I nudged at Nott's side for him to speak next.

"I'm sorry Professor but I couldn't really smell anything." Nott says barely above a whisper.

Professor Slughorn's furrowed his brows in concern. Did Nott not have something he loved? "Nothing at all?"

"Not really," the Slytherin murmurs. "I could only smell her."

Her?

Oh.

Me. I'm her.

Okay.

"Really?" Slughorn murmurs, clearly fascinated. "Well isn't that interesting?"

Nott only hums, moving away from the pot and as I turned with him, my eyes caught onto the pink tinged on his ears. Cute.

I couldn't even take a step towards my desk when Zabini swept me away, Malfoy by his side. Zabini smiles widely at my curious expression, and I wonder for a second if Nott has broken his promise and told them about our secret. Cautiously, I asked him. "What?"

"We need a favour."

"No." Was my first and final answer. Zabini only frowns, not the slightest bit faltering his quest. "I need you to steal Theodore away for a day." He says, instead. I shook my head, repeating myself, "No."

"Oh come on," Blaise pouts, "his birthday's this Sunday and we want to throw him a small surprise party."

"Which won't be a surprise if he was there," Malfoy adds unnecessarily.

"Why can't you be the one to distract him or whatever you're planning on making me do?"

"Because he'll suspect it," Malfoy answers with a roll of his eyes. "Nott's smart, he'll get suspicious of us."

"And he won't get suspicious of me?" I retorted.

"I haven't thought that through actually," Blaise murmurs. "But! We need all hands on deck to plan the party and fill it up with things he likes."

"And I can't help with that?" I ask.

Malfoy rolls his eyes. "What do you know about Nott?"

That he is my soulmate. But besides that, quite literally nothing. Okay. One point to Malfoy and Zabini, I guess. I sigh, slowly accepting my defeat. "What about Mark?"

"Mark's going to help us set up with Elio."

"Why can't you ask for the house elves to set it up for you?"

"Why can't you stop asking us questions?" Malfoy snaps.

I turn to the blond, my expression sour. "Hey you're the one asking me for a favour here, I don't think you can afford to be a bitch to me right now."

Malfoy rolls his eyes again, more attitude than ever. "So you're going to do it?"

"I never said—"

"Great!" Blaise cuts me off. "Have Theo out by ten A.M and have him back by six P.M, okay?" He says excited, and yet not loud enough for Nott, who had been sitting three desks away from our conversation to hear. "Okay! And if you guys do anything, please use protection we're way to young to have kids—"

"Oh fuck off." With a chuckle, Zabini finally leaves me alone, dragging Malfoy with him. With the two Slytherins no longer in sight, my eyes drift towards the only empty desk left and make my way towards it.

One, two, table passes, until I finally reach an empty seat and I find myself meeting eyes with Theodore. His face remains stone cold as ever, only looking at me blankly. He didn't have to say it for me to know that was curious about what his friends had said to me.

Setting my stuff down, I sat beside him and I found myself mustering up the courage to go through with Zabini and Malfoy's favour. "Hey," I start, Nott now giving me his undivided attention. "Do you want to go out this weekend?"

His expression changes for the slightest second that if I hadn't been watching him, I'd have missed it. "I thought we agreed on keeping it platonic."

"Yeah," I agreed quickly. "And that's not going to change anytime soon. Think of this as us bonding as platonic soulmates."

He guessed he owed me that, which was why he stood outside of the Hufflepuff's Common Room idly, waiting for me to come out and get on with our soulmates bonding day.

A smile came across my lips when I spotted him, looking as out of place as possible. "Hi," I said, going up to him. Theodore didn't bother replying, only standing tall as he waited for me to lead the way.

The ride to Hogsmeade was awkward —as to be expected from two people who knew little to nothing about one another. Theodore climbed out of the carriage first, offering a hand to help me off of the ride.

Before we began our journey, Theodore caught onto my wrist with his right hand, his left reaching for his wand and wordlessly, he casted a warming up spell on me.

"Thank you." I'd be lying if I said that it didn't have an effect on me. "So where should we go?"

His lips pursed, thinking. "You didn't plan anything?"

"Not really." This favour was a last minute thing, I didn't have time to actually plan things out. "I thought we could just walk around and look at things."

Theodore wasn't the easiest to read, but I knew from the shift in his features that he was judging me. He then nudges his head to the side. "Let's get you something to eat."

Theodore took me to a bakery by the end of Hogsmeade, the shop was heavily vanilla scented, people coming in and out every second. Nott ordered a vanilla danish, then another when he looked at my face.

I ordered my pastries, and reached into my bag for the sickles I needed. Before I could actually get it out though, Theodore was already pulling me to the side, mumbling a "don't bother" as the next customer made their order.

I frown, handing out the few sickles I owed towards him, he took a glance at my hand, then back to my face. "What did I just say?"

"I can't just let you pay for me."

He didn't say anything, but his expression alone suggests that he won't be taking my money anytime soon.

"Seriously, dude, I can't just let you pay for me."

"Let's go," Theodore deflects, taking a parcel filled with our purchases when the shop's clerk handed it out to us.

I followed after him, not before attempting to shove my money into his pockets and failing to do so when he shifted away from me. "You're being rude."

"Oh I'm being rude?" Theodore scoffs, and I think that that must've been the first time I hear real emotions in his voice. "For paying for you?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Paying for someone is only nice when they want you to pay for them."

"Well," he murmurs. "What's so wrong with me paying for you when you want me to pay for you."

"Don't gaslight me!"

Theodore smiles at my word, a small laugh bubbling out of him. "I'm doing no such things." And then, he adds in a mocking manner, "dude."

What an ass.

I led Theodore towards The Three Broomsticks, if he wasn't going to take my money then I'll just have to get him something in return. I ordered two butterbeers as he began unwrapping our pastries.

He handed mine to me and dug into his vanilla danish. A minute passes, the two of us eating in silence and I wondered if I should've just taken him to a movie instead, maybe then it'd be less awkward.

The butter beer arrives and I took a sip, wiping my lips with the back of my hand right after. "You have a little something—" my finger points towards my upper lips "—there."

He made quick work in wiping it off, eyes casting down as he turned his head to pick up a tissue paper. His red ears made a reappearance then, embarrassed as ever.

After we finished our meals, Theodore excuses himself as he heads towards the bathroom. I think then that this was the perfect opportunity; I called out to one of the shop's clerks and when they approached, I asked for the check.

The shop clerk, an elderly lady, frowns, "what are you talking about, love? Your boyfriend already covered it."

What? "I'm sorry, you must've gotten me mixed up with another table, I haven't paid yet."

"No?" She frowns. "The brunet, pale, about ye height—" the woman gestures over her head "—isn't with you?"

With me, yes. Boyfriend, no. "Did he pay?"

"Yes," she smiles, "just a second ago really."

If I could scream out of frustration I would. I glared at Theodore when he returned, he seemed to know what had happened as he walked with pride.

"You're not as smart as you think you are," he says, grabbing his things. "I knew what you were thinking."

"Well." I stood up, gathering my things as well. "What am I thinking right now?"

"What an ass I am." Smart ass.

"Lucky guest." I murmur.

"Is it now?" He replied testingly, taking my things from my hands.

I squint my eyes, looking at him threateningly. "I will destroy you, Theodore Nott."

"I'd like to see you try." The amount of stuff in his hands made him look ridiculous, walking out of the inn with little to no expression at all when he adds: "soulmate."

I returned Theodore to his friends by six, having snuck into the ladies room to send a patronus to Mark before doing so. Not a minute goes by when his patronus returns, a cheetah opening up its mouth to cheerfully say: "Okay dude, We're ready for you!"

I did what was asked of me and brought him to the room of requirements, Theodore trailed after me, clearly confused but never uttering a word about it.

Once we arrived in front of the door, I turn to meet his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me today was your birthday?"

He blinks. "It wasn't important."

"Your birthday isn't important to you?"

"No." He murmurs. "Why are we here?"

I push the door open, and it takes him a few seconds to realise what had happened. Elio jumps out, Mark by his side screaming as loudly as they could "happy birthday!"

Theodore stares at them for a bit before turning to me, "is that why you spent the day with me?" He asks first. "They put you up to this?"

If I heard disappointment in his tone, I didn't let it get to me. Mustering up a small smile, I push him towards his friends. "Enjoy your party, Theo."

Elio and Blaise swept him away, pulling him towards one of the corners where the snacks were placed. My expression must've been telling, of what exactly, I didn't know. But Mark seems to notice it, asking me in a quiet hush. "Are you okay?"

I nod distractedly. "Yup, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," Mark frowns, "you look a little off."

I smile at him. Mark knows me better than I knew myself. "I'm fine," I reassured him, "just a little tired."

"Okay," Mark says, leaving it at that with a sceptical look. "Let's get you something to drink."

"Was today just a ruse to get me away from the castle?"

Theodore had found me an hour after we arrived, looking distracted as ever when he handed over a slice of cake he'd saved for me.

"What?"

"You didn't actually want to bond with me, did you?"

I thought over my options, should I lie to him or just let him know the truth. Deciding on the latter, I tell him: "yeah, Zabini and Malfoy asked me to—" the clench in his jaw caught my attention "—wait, are you upset?"

Truthfully, Theodore says, "yes."

To say I was baffled was an understatement. "Why? What's wrong? Do you not like the party?"

"No," he counters. "It's not the party, the party's fine."

A beat passes by, Theodore hesitating. And then, finally, he says. "It's you."

"Me?" Have I done something to upset him? "Did I say something—"

"I thought you wanted to spend the day with me."

"I'm sorry." I'm not sure why exactly I was apologising but it felt like the right thing to do. "But to be fair, you didn't actually want to spend the day with me, did you?"

He avoids my eyes and I knew then that things can no longer be platonic. "I think you should leave before I do something idiotic."

"Like?"

"Kiss you."

How does one respond to that? His ears aren't red this time round. The look on his face is torn between hesitancy and distress. And I was stupid enough to reach up to him, a palm cradling his face, meeting his dark eyes.

A second passes and when he doesn't make to move away, I stand up to the tip of my toes and press my lips onto his. Theodore leans down, easing the strain of my neck as he kisses back without missing a beat.

A bump of the nose causes us to pull back, looking at one another with wide blown eyes before a subtle glow catches our attention. Tied to our pinkies, the string glows red, a shot of spark passing from his end towards mine only for it to lose its light when none comes from my side to ignite it.

What the spark means exactly, I didn't know. But I will not spend another second waiting around to see what it might meant. "That was a mistake," I say quickly, gathering my things. "Goodnight, Theodore."

I didn't know why I didn't notice it at first, but as I walked away, slice of cake in hand; the feel of plastic beneath the cake caught me off guard. I bring it into my eyesight, a vanilla danish neatly wrapped with a note attached to its side.

It seems like you've got me wrapped around your finger. Do me a favour and don't let it linger.

Blaise had a theory. And that theory consists of his two friends who had yet to find their soulmates. Or so they say.

Gathered around the room of requirement were the same people who attended Theodore's birthday party, give or take five people less.

Blaise stands in the middle of the room, the rest of us lounging on the sofa as we watch him speak. "Come here you," he points at Theodore, then he turns to me, "you as well."

My nerves gets the better part of me, causing me to glance at Theodore for help despite knowing that we were both drowning in the same boat. Did Blaise know about us being soulmates? Did Theodore tell him about it? Maybe I shouldn't have trusted him so blindly.

"You two," he says loudly. "Have been lying to us!" And then, a few notches down, he adds, "I think."

My brows furrowed, feigning innocence. "How so?"

Like a magician, he lifts up his hand dramatically, then grabs Theodore's pale hand in it. And in my eyes, the string was as visible as ever. I think I know where he was going with this and there's nothing to prepare me for what's to come next.

"Pay attention to her fingers okay?" Blaise instructs. I feel faint, dizzy, all the adjectives for nauseousness as each second passes by. "Her soulmate pinkie to be exact."

This is it. This is when they find out and Mark hates me for the rest of his life because I didn't tell him I'd found my soulmate.

Mark frowns, his bottom lips caught in his teeth as he watches on sceptically.

Blaise pulls at Theodore's pinkie, the same exact motion he'd done on end for the last couple of months. And, just like it had before, my finger pulls to Theodore's direction. Blaise pulls at it again and the same set of motions repeats itself.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Elio spoke first.

"Well," I began, everyone's attention turning to me. "Because, it's not your fucking business." Mark stifles a laugh at my words. "Theodore and I chose to keep it a secret for a reason."

"And that reason is?" Malfoy chimes in.

I didn't have to say anything for Theodore to know what I wanted them to know. "We didn't want soulmates."

"And now?" Blaise follows up. "Do you still not want soulmates?"

"Honestly?" I say. "I don't know."

It takes Theodore five seconds to note Mark's arrival at the Slytherin table. And it takes him another three seconds to notice that I wasn't there with them.

Mark chats animatedly with Elio, not once pausing to explain my lack of appearance at tonight's dinner.

Maybe they've grown too fond of me, or maybe Blaise likes me more than Theo thought he did, because he was quick to ask Mark where I was. "Doll's, not having dinner with us tonight?"

"No." Mark didn't even bat an eyelash at the pet name Blaise used. "She caught a cold and asked me to bring her something when I get back."

Theodore eyebrow's knit together curiously. "She's not in the infirmary?"

If the people at the table noticed the hint of concern in his voice, they didn't show it. Well —everyone except Mark that is. A gasp falls from his lips, staring at Theodore with wide eyes. Did he fancy his best friend?

Mark catches himself, shaking his head as he explained. "She said that it was just a common cold and that it'll go away soon. She didn't want to waste Madam Pomfrey's time when she could be focusing on something more pressing."

And when Theodore's eyes narrows. Mark feels the need to clarify himself. "Her words, not mine."

Theodore stands up then, excusing himself as he tells Mark not to worry about me and that he'll get something for me to eat. Mark didn't even get a chance to remind him about my meds before he slipped away and into the kitchens.

Mark didn't stress over it though, something in him knew that Theodore would not forget my medications.

A set of knocks lands on my door, approximately fifteen minutes later. And with a groggy "come in" from my bed; the door clicks open, Theodore standing behind it with a tray of food floating behind him.

"Theo?" I rub my eyes, unsure of what I was seeing. "What are you doing here?"

"Mark tells me you're sick." Did he? "So I brought you dinner." That's ... nice of him to do.

Theodore stands awkwardly by the door, not stepping an inch into a room. A part of me wonders if he was a vampire, waiting to be formally invited in before he could actually do anything. "You can come in."

The tray of food floats over first, resting just on top of my bedside table. Theodore follows in after it, staying a few feet away from my bed. "Wait, who let you in? Through the barrels and stuff?"

"No one in particular." He says. "They left the entrance open."

That was the hufflepuff way of doing things.

"Well thank you." My palm lays flat on my bed, pushing all of my body weight to a seating position. "For this. I know you'd rather spend the night doing something more fun than doing Mark a favour."

Theodore frowns, coming over to my side. "Mark didn't ask me to do this," he tells me; his hand carefully reaching for my arm, the other pressing against the small of my back to help me sit up properly. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

My attempt to resist teasing him was futile, even sick and on the verge of dying, I still think that Theodore's reaction to things —if there was one that is— was adorable. "Awh, did you miss me?"

Theodore didn't bother to say no. He didn't have to, it was clear by the hesitant look on his face that he did miss me. Even if I'd only just seen him yesterday.

"You should eat," he says instead, the glimpse of his tinging red ears not missed by me when he handed me a glass of water. "Drink this, eat, then take your medications."

A roll of my eyes paired with an 'I know' has him standing straight. And somehow, I get the feeling that he thinks he might've overstepped my boundaries. Not knowing what to say —or do for that matter, I settled on telling him: "thank you, again. I really appreciate it, Theo."

Theodore hums and we could both sense that our conversation was ending, but, strangely enough, despite never knowing what to say in front of him, I can't seem to just let him slip away tonight.

A glance at the tray Theo brought, then another back at him, had me asking a question I might be regretting minutes later. "Have you eaten, Theo?"

His eyes fell down onto my hand, the floor, anything but my face. The corner of his lips twists, a small dent in his cheek barely hiding his attempt to bite back a smile. He knew where I was going with this. "No."

A shift to the side, a pat on the empty seat besides me. "Good." I say first. "We can share."

The string tied to our pinkie glows, and this time, unlike the first, the sparks meets in the middle, igniting brighter than it has ever done before.

Being sick gave me a lot of time to reflect. And even more time for me to realise that me saying 'I don't know' complicates things. Everyone seems to be walking around eggshells when the topic of Theodore and I came up and quite frankly I'm fucking tired of it.

Theodore likes me. We're soulmates. This should be easy. I know how I feel, I can make things work.

Like feels childish. Love feels too strong. Infatuated is what I'm not when it comes to Theodore. I care for him the same way he cares for me. That should say something shouldn't it?

What I recently learned about Theodore is that he takes up an entire table at the library. Just him alone, and the whole table that would usually host four students all because he works in a mess.

"Uhm—" he looks up at me. "—can I sit here?"

He nods and turns back to his book. Not moving a single thing to the side. I sigh, organising his mess to one side and making a mental note to tell him off about it later. But for now, I ought to get my feelings sorted out.

"I wanted to talk to you," I say first. Theo hums, signalling that he was listening to me. "Can you look at me, please?"

He looks up from his page and shoved his book to the side, giving me his full undivided attention.

"I thought about it and I don't want to be platonic soulmates anymore," I tell him.

He looks in thought. "So you came here to say that you want to sever the soulmates connection?"

"No!" I say quickly, eyes wide. "No, not that. At all."

He seems to know what was going to come next, the corner of his lips turning upwards but he stops himself, not wanting to get too excited. "What is it then?"

"I care for you," I tell him. "And if you still care for me, I want to give this soulmate thing a shot."

His eyes soften. "Of course, I still care for you." He replies. "And I'm assuming by care you mean love?"

I pursed my lips, going over what I wanted to say and being careful with how I choose to phrase it. Finally, I decided on: "Not love per se," I say first. "Just us taking a step towards it."

" 'course not," he replies. "Baby steps, right?"

"Right," I say, feeling awkward under his gaze. "Baby steps." And then, I added. "Now if we're going to make this soulmate thing work out we need to actually go out."

He nods. "I'll take you to dinner on Friday then."

"Sure." A smile creeps onto my face. "It's a date." The tip of his ears reddens at my words, cute as ever. "I can't wait to see your cute little butt then."

Theodore fixes me a look between amused and judging, he breaks after a bit, shaking his head with a small chuckle. Incredulously he says, "I can't believe I'm in love with you."

"Woah there dude, you're moving a little fast," I said with a small smile. "Slow it down a bit, will you?"

"Too late, my love." And if I had a small liking towards the guy, my feelings were definitely amplified by his stupidly dumb sense of humour. "I've already gotten your name tattooed on my buttocks."

— from bee: i havent wrote in so long, this was so fun!! i always love writing theo so this was just a blast hehe

notes/reblog/feedbacks are greatly appreciated!!

#theodore nott humor #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott scenarios #Spotify #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #🧳: my writing

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0rb0t · 3 months

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my problem is that I like my ships best if they maintain as much of their canon personalities as possible.

If they bicker or fight or are prickly in canon, I'm okay with them doing that as a ship, too! It feels natural!

With sonadow, I hadn't shipped them in a while because I hated how Shadow's personality had become from the 2010s until like. Sonic Prime. Shadow ISN'T a bully!!! He fights AGAINST bullies. He can get competitive but usually only with Sonic. He's serious, he doesn't quite get small talk or some sayings, and his resting face LOOKS PISSED but he's just standing there.

I loved Sonic Boom as an AU, but when Shadow's personality became that in the main continuity, I was devastated. It felt like the executives took a character so beloved by us shy people, looked at his superficial design and went "Yeah this guy is an edgy dickhead"

We didn't call him edgy because of his design or attitude, we called him that because his narrative was SO MUCH DARKER than Sonic's or anyone else's. But that became the norm, everything became about Shadow being an edgelord asshole who threatens people and calls them weak and pathetic. He went from some guy who was dedicated to saving the world and keeping the peace to some jerkoff who'd tell people to kys all the time. And I was so, so sad.

And then Sonic Prime happened. And I was afraid at first to try to open my heart to the writing, because Shadow had been done dirty SO MANY TIMES...

But suddenly, Sonic AND Shadow, AND THEIR DYNAMIC was GOT. It's like they UNDERSTOOD. I'm still not a fan of the idea of Shadow not having friends, but it feels more like he doesn't have friends because he's afraid of that vulnerability RATHER THAN because he's being written as a bully.

AND IT BRINGS A TEAR OF JOY TO MY EYE. My awkward baby was back, the guy who focused on the mission so hard he'd miss the finer details at times. But also, the guy who cares SO MUCH but can't express it properly for the LIFE of him.

The guy who grabs others by the hand to pull them forward, to run WITH them. Who keeps warning Sonic not to trust so blindly because he is WORRIED about not just the consequences of the big picture, but also what that will do to his friend.

Sonic being too busy being sassy and playful that he can't realize that this IS Shadow caring, it's just not as open or casual or bubbly as his other friends. Shadow can't do that; it's just not the way he is. He's more stiff, he hates attention, he'd rather be in the background, he comes across as awkward when he's trying to be cool or serious.

But he actually seems to RELAX a bit around Sonic, and they work SO WELL together. Their personalities are TOTAL OPPOSITES but they ALWAYS attract. Magnetized together.

And it feels SO GOOD to see that understood, and written GENUINELY. AFTER 15 YEARS OF SEGA GETTING IT WRONG, we're finally giving Shadow his integrity and core BACK!!!!

And I prefer seeing ship art of them that reflects this. I used to draw so much sonadow back in the day, but I just don't anymore. Maybe I can get back into it, since I'm still too picky about fanon sonadow.

But GOD does it feel GOOD to see my boys respected narratively again!!!!

#sonic prime #sonic prime spoilers #sonadow #ship dynamics #writing #character writing #I'VE BEEN A SONIC FAN SINCE 2002 I CRAVE CONTINUITY #character meta #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #Shadow autism moments

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moth-n0ises · 4 months

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Some non lolitas need to learn to stfu when it comes to what is and isn't part of the fashion.

Lately I've seen an increase of publications about cutezy taobao brands fashion shows posted on Instagram and tiktok. Some fashion/resellers accounts sometimes wrongfully label it "lolita".

Obviously, some taobao brands make amazing clothing that perfectly fits the fashion, but others just make very cute pieces that aren't meant for lolita, and don't label it as such (or sometimes they do, but it's only for visibility, and honestly I don't mind it, fashion enthusiasts should do their own research and look for credible sources on what the fashion looks like, not blindly trust brands).

And every time, if someone says something along the lines of "this is very cute but not lolita" to try to stop the spread of misinformation on one of these fashion show reposts, it will result in a shitshow.

I've seen some people go about fighting mutuals who have more than a decade of wearing lolita on what the fashion looks like. When you take a look at these people's profiles, you quickly realize they have NEVER worn the fashion.

Lolita is more open that it ever was. Anyone interested in it can find so many resources on how to wear it, the bigger problem is now the selection of reliable sources in a sea of information. Also the fashion has become much more open about what is acceptable. Wearing no blouse in summer, showing knees, rachel lace, clashing textures in some contexts (old school), it used to be frowned upon but isn't anymore. I'm tired of the whole "boooo lolitas are mean elitists because they don't think my genshin impact inspired outfit with a miniskirt is lolita" that's going on on some platforms.

Lolita has a specific look to it, a silhouette, a history. Sure it can change, evolve, new trends can start within it, but it's not up to the non wearers to decide what this look is.

#lolita fashion #egl #egl community #egl fashion

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falloutcoys · 5 months

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Malevolent season 4 dashboard simulator

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🚃 thetravelersjourney Follow

IMPORTANT! PLEASE SIGNAL BOOST!

For anyone in New York City, you have to be very careful! There are reports of a dangerous man by the name of Arthur Lester roaming the streets. He may introduce himself as Will Henley or Peter Yang. He will not look you in the eye and may begin arguing with himself under his breath. This man is dangerous, he has admitted to at least seven murders!

🎶 jazzenthusiast04 Follow

This is just fearmongering. You left out the very important context that he was being threatened by a serial killer at the time! He was saying whatever he could to get out of it. Do your own research before you share misinformation like this smh

#disappointed in everyone who blindly shared this #the truth is easily found #if he had actually committed those murders, the detective on the case would have arrested him! #just take one minute to think before you post

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✝️ theconfessional Follow

God sent me to help him, and after everything I did for him, he just dumps me like this. fml. I lost an arm for him...

🖌️ art--deco

aren't you a priest? 🤨 url checks out you're definitely having some sinful thoughts, father

#ngl i'm into it though

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🗡️ anoldscratch

I can't help it. When I'm around him I hear the sweetest music. I can tell, him and I, we're the same.

🌽 dustbowldays

this is actually so creepy looking back i can't believe i reblogged this. we should have known

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🕵️‍♂️ thefirstnoel

I always know more than I'm letting on. You shouldn't trust me quite so easily.

#mysterious #secret identity #male manipulator #he was kinda cute tho

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🟡 hiseyes

Finally got him to leave that loser. Took long enough, the guy was just dead weight. I don't know why he thinks he needs anyone but me, honestly.

🎶 jazzenthusiast04 Follow

@theconfessional this was like 5 minutes before your post. related?

✝️ theconfessional Follow

WAIT IS THIS THE JOHN HE MENTIONED???

🟡 hiseyes

uhhhh. no.

#wtf how did he find me

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👵 awidowslife Follow

room available for rent on a weekly basis. must be respectable and able to follow rules. dm for details

🖌️ art--deco

is this still available?

👵 awidowslife Follow

no.

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #fake posts #fake posting #fake dashboard #unreality #cw unreality #im having WAY too much fun making these #somebody take this away from me

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janewayintersection · 9 months

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the amount of people who are like "omg i ditched kaidan for garrus after he was mean to me on horizon!!" baffle me. shit on bioware's writing for making shep work with cerberus all you want, but kaidan calling shep out on this and not joining them is NOT the issue. in fact, him reacting like this is why i love him??

he specifically states he trusts shep, just not cerberus. which is the only rational response in that whole entire goddamn game!! like?? you spend all of me1 stopping cerberus operations. they kill several alliance soldiers and admiral kahoku, try to make a rachni army -- they are WELL known for cloning and ais... miranda even outright states she wanted to plant shep with a control chip. there is literally zero reason for kaidan to believe the shep in front of him isn't some cerberus sleeper agent. or an ai. or indoctrinated. or being manipulated (THIS ONE IS CANON BTW). even if he trusts shepard, he doesn't trust cerberus not to pull any of this. quite frankly, i'm baffled more companions don't have this exact, entirely justified concern.

loyalty is important, but blind loyalty is dangerous.

honestly, the crew in me2 is lucky that the illusive man was so weirdly and uncharacteristically insistent on shepard remaining untouched. things could have gotten very bad otherwise.

being best friends with someone, or more notably, being in love with someone, isn't the end all be all magic potion in this world. being in love with someone doesn't mean you should blindly trust their actions. if my significant other joined a terrorist group, you can bet my ass i wouldn't join them! sorry! if anything, it's healthy that kaidan has his own sense of morals and priorities he follows over shepard. he's his OWN person, love shouldn't be something that makes you suddenly give up who you are and what you believe in.

not to mention kaidan is entirely out of the loop for the whole game. his intel states that cerberus is behind the abductions (the horizon incident is partially a result of cerberus' fiddling btw), and that shep has been alive and never even reached out to anyone. he doesn't have the information we the players have. he doesn't know that the illusive man insisted on no control chip. he doesn't know about the lazarus project or its specifics.

and as for the "cheating" discourse if you romance someone new in me2, i do personally believe shep getting with one of the me2 love interests is cheating on their me1 love interest. to shep, they skipped those two years. they wake up as they did during the me2 prologue. no time has passed. and then they immediately get with someone else after one (1) argument with their love interest over them, may i remind you, joining a terrorist group. even if you don't think it's "technically" cheating, it's at the very least pretty trashy and flakey.

if anything, i'm gonna say it! kaidan is more forgiving than i'd be! the fact that he even sends an email saying he still cares and that they can see what happens after this is all resolved is WAY more than i would have done. the fact that kaidan will find out shep got with someone else, and STILL be willing to give shep a chance is like. man. it's saying a lot. i am just saying.

imagine losing someone. you see them literally die as your ship explodes and they burn up in the nearby planet's atmosphere. you grieve. you put yourself into your work. then suddenly, two years, later. they pop back up again. ALIVE. and with a terrorist group. and basically tell you the equivalent of "just trust me bro" despite the fact that while you trust them, you don't trust the terrorist group. so you're like hey, what the fuck. why are you with a terrorist group. and they're like i'm not with them, we just have common goals. and you're like. i'm gonna say it again. i trust you, not the terrorist group. okay?? i can't join you for this reason. please be careful out there, seriously.

and then they immediately jump into the pants of that one guy you knew back on a mission from two years ago.

what would you do?? would you not feel hurt? betrayed? upset? confused?? i'm sorry, i'm completely on kaidan's side. i'd go as far to say that he's far more understanding than he should be in me2.

me3 is all about regaining that complete and undying trust back, and that cerberus didn't fuck around w shep. or that being with cerberus didn't change them. his "loyalty" quest is just visiting him in the hospital and showing him shepard still cares. that they're still the same. that cerberus truly didn't alter them. that there was more going on. that shepard was forced to work with cerberus out of complete necessity and only did what they thought was right. and i think that's neat!!!!

#mass effect #kaidan alenko #shenko

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mysillyside · 3 months

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What if Death Note was shown to us from L's perspective?

Imagine a version of Death Note where we the audience didn't know with certainty that Light is Kira. Could we fully trust L's deduction if we weren't shown Light's actions or given access to Light's thoughts?

We'd have to figure it out slowly, as L does. And I'd think the story would make us doubt L's theory during many points. This might sound strange but hear me out. In the actual story, we know Light is Kira, as we follow his point-of-view, and therefor it feels silly when the task force denies something that seems so glaringly obvious to us.

But when you really think about it, from their perspective- there are many holes in L's theory, and to believe that Light is Kira, they'd have to blindly believe what is essentially mostly a hunch of their (self-admitted) stubborn, childish boss who hates losing and being wrong. No wonder they aren't completely onboard.

In short, it would have not only been different viewing experience, but more importantly- a different emotional experience.

Had the story been told this way, I think it would have worked better as a mystery thriller, and in my opinion, been waaay more chilling to watch.

Though, I do think the story would lose a lot of its appeal and entertainment value. It definately wouldn't have been nearly as popular, that's for sure. So I'm not saying it would have been better at all, I don't even think that! But it would have been different and interesting in its own way.

So lets talk about how the plot would unravel had our point-of-view character been switched from Light to L:

Suddenly, seemingly out of the blue, criminals all over the world start dying, getting mysterious heart attacks. Nobody knows the cause, who is behind this if anyone at all. Perhaps it is some sort of divine punishment.

L, the world's greatest detective, and our protagonist/pov-character, starts investigating immediately. It's been awhile since he was this interested in solving a case. We would learn that L isn't someone invested in justice from the getgo. To him, this atrocious act of mass murder is an exciting challenge to solve. We would get non-stop insight into his internal thoughts on everything. Learn that L is a childish person, a very stubborn man that hates losing and being wrong. We'd also see how willing he is to go against basic human decency and moral code in the persuit of his investigation from the get-go.

I cannot stress how different emotionally it would have been to watch L, essentially go into a seemingly unsolvable case blind. And bit by bit, get a clearer picture of what's happening. Scenes like the Lind L. Tailor TV stunt or the To-Oh Entrance Ceramony would have been chilling, had we been following his perspective.

Additionally, we can goof on the taskforce for not picking up the fact Light is obviously Kira, but from their perspective, it does seem a little sketchy and absurd. Light is a 17-18 year old college student by the time L starts suspecting him. By everyone's accounts, he's a hard working, extremely intelligent, upstanding, polite and friendly young man. A good son, brother, student and friend.

But L has a hunch this young man in specific is Kira. Can he prove it? Well there's weight to his theory. Light often seems to be in the center of several key events pertaining to the investigation. His father works on the task force for the case, the fiancee of the FBI agent who was investigating him seems to have gone completely missing. He is also perfect. Too perfect, he almost doesn't seem real.

But is this really enough? L from the getgo seems immedietly drawn into this idea that Light is Kira, as soon as he lays his eyes on him. As said before, L hates being wrong and is known to be stubborn. Everyone around him is telling him he's being absurd.

We the audience would obviously be on L's side, don't get me wrong. L is the greatest detective who never failed to solve a case, besides we have no other useful suspects besides Light.

But what would happen when there'd seemingly be holes in L's theory? When Light was being monitored on camera in his house, he was doing homework and not watching TV while criminals who's names and faces were broadcasted started dying. If Light is Kira, how is he able to do something like that? In canon, L never learned how Light pulled this trick off, therefor, had we been watching this from L's point-of-view, we wouldn't have known either.

Thankfully then Misa would appear, and once we learn that her DNA is on the tapes sent by the second Kira, this would strengthen our hunch that L is right.

But then Light would even turn himself in, saying that "maybe I'm Kira but unaware of it", and the solitary confinement would begin. After a few days, this young man starts panicking and saying he must have made a mistake and that he is clearly not Kira. He seems incredibly genuine, even L is taken aback.

A little bit into solitary confinement, criminals start dying again. But L still refuses to let Light and Misa go. L imprisoned two teenagers, one of whom has barely any proof he has any connection to Kira, and the other is detained in a questionable way, making her scared and believe a perverted stalker has kidnapped her. All this, while L is still insisting to keep them confined against all reason. Only allowing the confinement to end if Light's father pretends to shoot him, just so L can test out his theory.

In short, L would be extremely unlikable during so many points in the story. The only reason why many ppl currently can't process the fact that L is a very immoral character, is due to us knowing that Light is guilty. But had the story been told like this, we'd have to consider the possibility that L could be wrong, and that he's essentially traumatizing two innocent young ppl over nothing.

During the Yotsuba arc, we finally get to see what Light is like. And it appears people's descriptions of him were right. He's an upstanding, caring young man with a strong moral compass and sense of justice.

He's been put through hell and back, 50 days of solitary confinement, having to live through the horror of having his own father pretend to shoot him and now being chained 24/7 to the same detective who made him go through all that. And he is still doing his best to be being patient and understanding. While L is moping over the fact his deduction could be wrong. No, actually he's moping over the fact that he has no way of proving his deduction is right, and is refusing to let go of his innitial theory, even though people are dying!

Throughout the arc, L and Light interract and Light consistently has the moral highground. And by the time the Yotsuba group appears and is comfirmed to have involvement with Kira in some way, I do think the audience would start genuienly doubting L.

Perhaps Light really was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, perhaps everything really had just been a coincidence and Light really was an innocent young man who didn't deserve to go through any of this.

When Higuchi is caught, I think it really would have felt like a triumphant moment.

I know that L lied through his teeth when he called Light his best friend. I do not think he considers Light a friend. But he definately considers Light someone he respects in many ways, both on an intellectual level but also personal intrigue. Light always intrigued L, from the moment the man heard him speak.

I don't think L doubted his hunch that Light is Kira for a second. I also don't think L wanted Light to be anything but Kira.

But I do think L (at least anime L), felt like he lost something when Light reverted back to Kira.

Light was never his friend, but he could have been. Losing a human connection you had that could have potentially become a real genuine friendship with someone you relate to, find interesting and consider your equal, would be upsetting to anyone. (Don't get me wrong though, if Light wasn't Kira, L would have thrown a pissy-fit, but two things can be true at once) I know L is a person who doesn't crave or desire emotional connections or any connections really, but he's still a person at the end of the day.

Finally they uncover the murder weapon. A Death Note, a small black notebook that can apparently kill people. After L gets hold of it, he sees the monster attached to the notebook, a shinigami. They are real after all.

Finally, Light gets his hands on it. And screams louder than anyone else.

And in that moment, L realized that Light is once again Kira.

Ok, I know the manga and anime diverge during episode 25. The anime adds a lot more extra content to the story that wasn't present in the manga. But I adore episode 25 (it's just a hauntingly beautiful episode, I love how it's directed, even if it's clearly different from the rest of the show), so I will go with what happens in the anime version.

Kira is back.

There's only two things that can happen from here.

Either Light is going to be arrested, or L is going to die.

L is acting irrationally this episode. Perhaps he's afraid to die. Perhaps he's afraid of what will happen when Light is arrested, and what emotions that might stir in the detective. Either option is scary on its own. His ears are ringing from the bell. A bell only he is able to hear it seems.

Light finds him on the rooftop in the rain. In a last ditch attempt to form any sort of human connection, L rambles to him nonsensically, finally asking Light if he's capable of being truthful.

Light lies again. He always lies. L smiles to that. They are both lying monsters.

They go inside to wipe themselves clean. And have a suprisingly gentle, human moment. We don't know what's going through their minds, just like in the original. But this care and tenderness shown between them, we can buy it being genuine.

Perhaps Light really isn't Kira. Maybe L's paranoia and suspicion have rubbed off on us.

The moment is interrupted when Watari calls L informing him that the plans to test out the Death Note have been made. If this is done, there's a possibility Light's innocence will once again be called into question.

L announces his plan in front of the taskforce.

And suddenly everything goes red. L is calling out to Watari, not able to reach him as the old man is withering in pain.

In an instant, all the computer screens around them change, spelling out the words: "ALL DATA DELETION".

Watari is dead.

L tries to give out orders and suddenly a sharp pain pierces his chest. He drops the spoon he's been using to eat with, as he falls from his chair.

Light catches him, gently holding him in his arms as L stares into the young man's face.

A face that distorts into a mocking sadistic grin.

All this time. He had been right. He was right all along.

His eyes close and the show ends.

#(basically my fanfiction of how I think experiencing the plot would have felt if we switched POVs)#death note #l lawliet #light yagami #💬 katposts #✒️ katwrites

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is-nini · 5 months

Text

Thinking about Bimbo y/n who follows whatever her husband desire. Who didn't know that he is manipulating her life because y/n is only his. Who didn't know that he is controlling her every move.

You are dumb enough to believe him when he say that your life is "too pure" and that you needed him to protect you, you really think he is right. Your poor brain just trust him because he is a very respected man and he is rarely wrong right..?

He would daily make sure to see you at least one time per day even if it only lasted a few hour minimum, he would always make sure you and him have a talk.

The topic of the talk started off innocent such as "What did you eat today?", "How was work? Did your boss or your co-worker did anything weird?" to "Maybe it's better for us to live together. That way I could ensure your safety around me". Of course, when he bring up the topic of living together, you didn't think much of it. What he say's kind of makes sense.. maybe your land lord or your boss at work are not as kind as you think they are.

He slowly gaining your trust by giving you gifts, taking you out on dinner, while talking about how you are too talented and too precious to work. So you stopped working, after he promises you the 100th time telling you he could've helped with your living expense as long as you become his girl friend.

He did keep his promise, but as times went on you notice him being more and more protective.. but it's because he loves you so much! he said so you trust him blindly.

Being his girlfriend is not enough though. He started to create a little "drama" around you. You notice how people looked at you with disgust and anger- you don't know why, you swear you have never hurt someone!

That night you cry into your lover arm, crying and sobbing about how you have never done anything wrong and you never threaten anyone. In the midst of your cries, you didn't notice the small smirk grazing you lover's lips.

The next day, your boyfriend offer you that if you marry him, he is sure that everything will stopped because he can give you bigger protection as your husband and he can helped you more with you in his life.

His promises tricked you into portraying him as a safe space for you, and so without much thought you agree. The marriage was not grand but it is far from simple. A lot of high-status people attend your marriage in where those high-status people help you clear out your name. After all, you are his bride and you are just too innocent to be doing mean things.

In the end everything goes back to normal, but your life seems to be sweeter and happier. You never think about struggling, didn't think about anyone giving you disgust look because you're his bride now, and the good news is- the person who tried to frame you has been caught now! and you are free, all because of your dear lover you thought.

"Princess, I'm home" Your husband called out as your feet excitedly went up to him and kissing him. "Welcome home!" you giggle as he looks at you fondly. The smell of his dinner filled the room as he enter your home. He have maids to help him to clean the house but.. he ordered them to not let you notice them or talk to you. He is scared that outsider's might.. 'Taint' your pure soul, but of course to let you keep busy, he makes you his house wife who should just cook and accompany him work and never leave him.

"I cook your favorite food!" you excitedly talks and smile up at him. He pull you up, lifting you towards the dinner table as he sat you on top of his lap. "Mhm, you did baby. am' so proud" he talked to you happily, gushing about how cute and adorable you are.

You only know that your husband work as someone who have a high status and people either respect him or is scared of him. He keeps telling you that you don't have to know because it's too confusing for your cute little brain and told you to not worry.

Thus you lived happily, not knowing that every since you meet him, your life has been controlled by him. Every decision you made has been something that he has control over, but of course. You never have to know about that. You has become his after all.

Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya, Wriothesley, Childe, Lyney, Albedo, Pantalone, Toji Fushiguro, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Jing yuan

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arabellasleopardcoat · 2 months

Text

Pyrite - Final Chapter: Valonqar

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Daemon gets to know the joys of quarantine and faces conflicting feelings in the hours after Otto's and Mellos’ execution.

Warnings: Execution (Via beheading) Mentions of abortion. Mentions of physical violence. Dub con (Reader is given a choice but due to the nature of the power imbalance between Daemon and her, she doesn't really have one)Implied smut. Unhappy ending for anyone except Viserys.

A/N: I am sorry to the requester, I deviated a bit. But we are done!!!!

Daemon grabbed you by the arm and dragged you towards his chambers. He was not happy about being on babysitting duty, but he knew it was the only thing they could do. Without his protection, you would not last a day out there. He had been able to read the truth from your face after just one conversation. Otto Hightower was much more shrewd than him, you would break in seconds.

He supposed Aemma could keep you in her rooms and prevent the scandal. But privately, Viserys had confessed he feared she had gone mad with grief. He did not trust her to be in the same room as you without clawing your eyes out. Daemon did not understand her actions, since you had tried to help her, but he wasn't a mother either. Aemma seemed traumatized by her child's death.

She cursed your name for having your letter arrive too late. Daemon was not a woman. Nor did he presume to know the mind of one, but it seemed a little unfair. You had looked out for her at your own risk, yet Aemma still wanted more.

Viserys could not keep you, either. He was too afraid for his reputation, now that he was about to become a King. What would people think of a servant girl being kept in his rooms?

He didn't admit it, of course, saying that he was only looking out for your honor, but Daemon could tell that Viserys lusted for the throne. Now that he was so close, that he had lost so much on his quest for it, he was not going to lose it for an insignificant girl.

If he truly cared for your reputation, Viserys would have never agreed to keeping you in Daemon's chambers. Who would marry you, after? Everyone knew what Daemon liked, after all. Young maidens, all soft limbs and cute little faces, all for him to ruin. What commoner would want you after being a Prince's whore?

He wasn't planning on touching you, at first. But the way you looked up at him, all frightened eyes, while sitting on one of his chairs, made his cock twitch with interest.

You were a pretty crier. It was something Daemon had noticed when you were discovered. Your eyes would get glassy, and your lower lip would stick out in the slightest pout. You looked good enough to eat.

He could not wait to see you cry on his cock. But if he acted too soon, you would hate him for it. And they needed to be in your good graces so you didn't do anything stupid on the trial.

It was going to be hard, Daemon thought, as he took a look at your face. Aemma had done a number on you, and his retrieval hadn't been entirely gentle either.

You sniffled, pitifully. Daemon kneeled in front of you with a sigh.

“Let me look at your head.”

You gave him a distrustful look.

“I am not going to hurt you. I want to tend to your injuries.” He explained, patiently.

“For some reason, I don't believe you.” You frowned. “Give me a cloth and I can do it myself, Prince Daemon.”

Daemon fought the urge to laugh. Who did you think you were, ordering him around? Instead, he grabbed a cloth and a pitcher of water, and brought them over to you.

You wiped your hands and face with it. Daemon watched, aware that you would not be able to clean the wound on your head on your own. You tried regardless, dabbing a clean cloth over your scalp, trying to reach blindly for the spot that was oozing blood.

He kept his eyes on you, not interfering until you were visibly frustrated.

“Do you need help?”

“No.” You glared, rubbing at your scalp harshly. Daemon stepped closer and took the cloth from you, ignoring your indignant squeaks. He assessed the damage to the back of your skull.

Your hair, braided back as it was, was matted with blood. He was unable to see much, but it seemed to have stopped flowing.

“I will unbraid your hair to look at the wound.” Daemon warned, and started taking your braid apart.

You went very still on your chair, as he untangled sticky hair strands from each other. Your braid was simple, but well constructed. It was clear that you knew quite a bit about how to do your own hair, considering the softness of it. It didn't feel like the hair of any other commoner Daemon had ever felt before. A shame it was caked in blood. He would have to ensure you got a bath soon.

As he parted your hair, shifting it in different directions, he noticed the small laceration on your skull. Nothing was showing through it, not even bone. Daemon knew that was a good sign. It was sizable enough to merit stitches, though.

“I will need to sew this. Do you need milk of the poppy?” He asked, as he went to collect thread and needle from his vanity. A Maester should be the one doing this, and he doubted he had the necessary qualifications to do so, but at the moment, Daemon had no other choice. He didn't trust anyone.

“Do you even know how to sew wounds, my Prince?” You asked, looking at him over your shoulder. It was a fair question, had he not been a squire a few years back. Daemon had earned his knighthood not so long ago, and he still vividly remembered his training.

“I am a knight, girl.” Daemon rolled his eyes. It wasn't as if he styled his name with the title, like some other cunts did, but he still was one. “Do you know what that means?”

“That you are supposed to uphold your oaths, my Prince?” And oh, how sweet. You truly were a naive little thing. It was no wonder you had charged into danger as you had, if you still believed in that bullshit. To Daemon, knights were just like any other men. No more honorable nor more just. Oaths could be broken, after all.

“Yes. But also that I was a squire. I have sewn a few wounds before, including my own.” But never a head wound, he thought to himself. Ah, what you did not know wouldn't hurt you. If he told you, you would insist on a Maester. Daemon couldn't risk it. No one could know you were here.

“I rather be awake, my Prince.”

“Suit yourself.” He stepped behind you and pressed down on your nape, getting you to lower your head. Daemon made sure you were still before starting sewing.

With each pass of the needle, you tensed more. It was a foolish thing to do, only increasing your pain.

“Don't tense. The pain is worse like that.” He advised, and kept at it. You obeyed, forcing your body to relax. It still looked like you were sitting rigidly on the chair, but you weren't clenching your jaw any longer.

As Daemon progressed, he kept a close eye on your reactions. Knuckles turning white against the armchair, breath coming out in pained little sounds. But no tears fell. Had you cried them all already? Or were you too proud to show your pain to him?

With you unmoving, it was not difficult to finish your stitches. He took a step back, admiring the white thread decorating your skull. It contrasted harshly against the red of your blood. Daemon felt oddly proud of it.

“You can have the bed tonight.” He grumbled, annoyed. Why did he feel the need to help you, suddenly? Playing nice was one thing, but why was he feeling bad? It had only been a hit to the back of the head. He had done much worse when dueling men. Drew more blood, severed more limbs. Even took their lives.

But you were a woman. A girl, really. Around his age, and vulnerable to the world. It felt uncomfortably like hurting a child. Why? What made you special? He had taken quite a few maidenheads already, and not even then he had felt like this. You looked like a wounded bird.

“What if I get blood on your sheets?”

“The servants are used to it.” The joke felt flat on his tongue. He gave you a wink, but his heart wasn't in it. Daemon could not stand another second in this room with you, reeking of pain and staring at him with those betrayed eyes. Better to head out and hit the city. He needed to numb himself. And by the time you were up, he would just be getting in.

Daemon allowed you to exist undisturbed in his room for almost a week. He provided water for you to bathe, and fresh clothes for you to change into. The routine stayed the same. He went out at night, and you slept in his bed. When you woke, you had to get out of it and entertain yourself so he could sleep.

He usually enjoyed a night out. But the constant whoring and drinking was beginning to tire him, especially since it was affecting his training. There were only so many brothels he could visit before noticing he was unsatisfied with the stock their carried because not one of them looked like you.

Ugh. The urge to fuck you was messing with his head, making him unfocused. Daemon had actually lost a sparring match this week, but he was unsure if it was from a lack of sleep or being plagued by thoughts of you.

He needed to get you out of his system. He had enough. You no longer looked like a wounded little bird. It was time to make his move.

That night, Daemon decided to skip the brothels. He sat on his bed, freshly bathed after training, and just watched you stew.

You were sitting on a pillow in the corner of his room, some books spread out around you. They were part of his small collection on Valyrian herbs. You were wearing your night shift already, and sneaking glances at him every few minutes.

He was breaking your unspoken arrangement, you sure thought. Daemon was supposed to leave so you could sleep. A shame it was not happening tonight.

“Girl.” He said, once he had enough of watching you squirm. “Pour me a glass of wine.”

You looked at him. You gave an annoyed little huff. Even if you did not dare voice it, Daemon could see the protest in your eyes. You were not used to serving men, from what he could tell. Nor were you used to serving wine. You thought yourself above those tasks, one of those fancy handmaidens that only brush hair and run baths.

And it showed. Sure, you were tidy and didn't make a mess of his rooms, but you didn't help either. You had not reached for a broom in your whole stay, or dusted anything. If he wasn't a tidy person, the place would be as unsanitary as a cheap brothel.

It had never bothered him before, not being able to call for a servant to clean his rooms. But it now did. He tried not to think very hard about why that was. It didn't mean anything. Your presence did not upset him. He was just bothered by the fact that you were like a leech.

Daemon had no use for you. His space was being invaded by a girl with unsettling eyes, who acted as if this was her prison and did not contribute at all. Anyone would be bothered by it. Right?

Anyone would be done with it. Daemon would rather behead Otto and end it all. But apparently, you could not just behead one of your subjects, or everyone started talking about Maegor the cruel.

“I do not have any use for a commoner.” Daemon stated, plainly. He advanced towards you, grasping your chin in his hand. “Do you understand what will happen to you if I kick you out?”

“I'll die.” Your voice shook. Daemon scowled. He didn't like the thing that you were doing with your eyes.

“Then you best try to please me, right?” He ran his thumb over your cheek. “Wouldn't want me to hand you over.”

You shook your head. You went and poured him his wine.

“I don't like your eyes.” Daemon said, impatiently. “Try to smile more.”

You gave him a weak smile. It set the tone for the rest of your interactions. You were a clumsy cup bearer, and took badly to sleeping on the floor. Daemon had to constantly snap at you to wipe the sad look from your face. It looked ugly, and the only good thing you had to your favor were your looks. That was why his stomach twisted when he caught you thinking of home or your family.

When the day of the trial came, you looked relieved. You managed to give your testimony without any issue, and his grandfather ruled in their favor. Aemma gets her revenge, with the King allowing Viserys to bring the head of Ser Otto and Mellos to his wife. He can't bring himself to do it, so it's Daemon who swings the sword instead.

Otto Hightower kneels for his execution with great grace. He sends Daemon a glare, but doesn't say a word. Mellos, on the other hand, screams and pleads all the way up the steps to the block.

Daemon gets a sick sort of satisfaction when he sees them both kneeling at his feet. Is this what being King feels like? He wonders, as he shares a secret smile with Aemma, who stands in the first row of the crowd. The power to hurt those who have wronged you.

Next to Aemma, you stand. You look pale and fidgety, but the grip she has in your arm prevents you from escaping. It's only fair, she had said, that you get to witness the King's justice you helped bring. You don't seem excited about it.

“Any last words?” Daemon asks, as he unsheathes Dark Sister.

“Please, don't, this has been a mistake!” Mellos screams. Daemon waits patiently. When nothing more than incoherent sobs come out from his mouth, Daemon glances up at his grandfather.

King Jaehaerys looks grim, but determined. He nods. Daemon takes Mellos’ head with one clean swoop of his sword. The head rolls into the basket with straw, preventing the blood from running everywhere. The eyelids still move. The crowd gasps, and Daemon feels strangely empty.

“I am ready for my last words now.” The Hightower cunt says, with a firm voice. Daemon can't help be both annoyed and impressed by it. Most men, like Mellos, would be shitting themselves in fear. But Ser Otto remains calm and regal, even when he knows he is about to face death.

“Speak.”

“Good pious people, I have come here to die, for according to the law and by the law I am judged to die. I do not wish to accuse any man or woman, for if the King says I am to die, I shall. I only ask that my actions are judged fairly in the years to come, and no harm comes to my family. Let it not be that the crimes of the father follow the son. I take my leave of this world and ask you to pray for me. To the Seven I commend my soul, please, Stranger, have mercy on me.”

And maybe it was the hypocritical speech, or the fact that Otto Hightower was the mastermind behind the plot to hurt his family, but this time Daemon swing his sword with much more force than necessary. The head rolls out of the box and into the crowd, falling near the first row, among horrified screams.

Right at your feet.

You turned and left. And Daemon stood, with his bloodied sword, still near the executioner's block.

There is a feast after. One that you are not allowed to attend. Nothing so crass as to celebrate the death of the two criminals, but rather, the settling of the succession issue. The plot, even if it had to do nothing with Rhaenys, had been damaging enough to doom her hopes of being Queen.

It is then, high on victory and still wearing a dirtied sword, that Daemon decides to use his power over you. It's not a conscious choice. There is something in him that broke tonight, something to do with a severed head and your look of disgust, and the cheers of Aemma and Viserys. It's something about feeling empty, when having the world at his fingertips.

He is soon to be the Prince of Dragonstone. With Viserys lack of heirs, he might even become King one day, if he doesn't set aside Aemma and finds himself a younger wife.

Daemon wonders if Aemma realizes how precarious her position has turned, now that she got her revenge. If she had kept quiet, if she had let Rhaenys get the Iron Throne, her position would be secure. The Arryns would not allow Viserys to put her aside.

But now, that her husband will be King, she will never be safe. Queens fall every day, as Rhaenys has learned. It seems it is time for Aemma to learn that lesson.

You are packing your things when he gets there. Clothes and a small collection of trinkets from the time you had spent by his side. It enrages him. You can't leave. Not when you are the only person who can understand what these weeks have been like. The only one who knows exactly the kind of monster Viserys has turned him into.

“Where are you going?” It comes out more aggressive than he intends to, but you no longer cower at his voice.

“I don't know.” You meet his eyes and keep your voice soft. “Away, my Prince.”

“No, you are not.” Daemon orders, and leaves Dark Sister laying on the rug. The blood rusts the blade, but what does it matter, at this point? If you are leaving, he can call a maid tomorrow. If you are not, everyone can know you as his whore. “Pour me some wine.”

You obey, in silence. Your hands shake slightly.

“Pour yourself a cup, too.” Daemon says, patting the space by his side. You sit, very stiffly.

“Well done.” Daemon says. You give him a little nod. “Now take your dress off.”

“Excuse me?” You jump up so fast, you might as well have never been sitting. Your hands ball by your side, an indignant expression clear on your face.

“Come on, girl. You are not that stupid.” Daemon rolls his eyes. He has protected you for nearly a fortnight, let you take his bed and food and not even once touched you. He killed a man today who would have crushed you like a worm. No one else would want you after this, no one else would understand you. “You owe me a great debt. What other use could I have for a commoner?”

“I can pay my debt in other ways.” You protest, and go back to gathering your things.

Daemon laughs. It sounds broken to his own ears, cruel and shrill. You turn to face him, noticing the difference in tone. Yet, he is not deterred, even when he barely recognizes the cruel tone he is speaking in.

“Yes. You can. I think you would make a fine dragon keeper. You have little skill for anything else, but anyone can shovel shit. I think five years of that would be a fair trade.”

“Or I could just go.” You threaten.

“You could.” And get yourself murdered in the process because there is no way Viserys and him are letting you walk away with all you have learned in your stay with them. And if they don't get you, sickness and famine might. As the northerners say, winter is coming.

“Princess Aemma…” And it’s only then that Daemon gets fed up. You think Aemma out of all people will protect you? Aemma? Has he been doing such a shitty job of it?

“Aemma said I had to protect you. She did not say I couldn't have you.”

“I…” You start, but Daemon is too desperate to care about how cruel he is starting to sound.

“You should hope her reach doesn't go far, as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Tell me, how much do you have? Enough to buy passage into Essos?”

“I'll stay.” You untie your dress, with tear filled eyes. It falls to your hips. Daemon rushes to you like a man possessed. The urge to own, claim, to keep, is too strong to resist.

He wastes no time in burrowing himself in your skin, your hair, carving a place for himself inside you. He is a monster. And intends on devouring you whole.

His love will strangle you until nothing is left. Maybe one day you will be his Queen if Viserys doesn't leave Aemma. By then, you will be just like him.

He kisses down your throat, and lowers a hand between your thighs.

“Stay.” Daemon says, and it feels like the first link on the chain. “Stay.” Muttered between your thighs, as he drowns himself on you.

“Stay.” As your blood stains his shaft, and you moan, confused by whatever you are feeling. As your hips meet his, as you are desperate to choke, to die in his hands.

“I'll stay.” You whisper back, coming down for your high, and the lock clicks.

Has really a key been thrown away if no one hears the sound it makes as it falls?

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sleepyverstappens · 6 months

Text

Race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase about bond with Max Verstappen: 'Never again with anyone else'

Although Gianpiero Lambiase is a nice person to be around and also an easy talker, he rarely or never gives interviews. But the down-to-earth Brit is also a man of his word and honors the agreement made at the beginning of this year. The delay makes it extra clear that he does not necessarily have to come to the fore and his extensive range of tasks during a racing weekend logically takes priority. Now that both championships have been won, Lambiase joins me. Who is behind that voice that can be heard so often during Grand Prix? The man who always sounds so calm. Except for that one time, after the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix in 2021. So much so that many people still think that it is not Lambiase who is blaring on the radio, but the then reserve driver Alex Albon. Which is not the case.

Not a partygoer

The calm he so often radiates is one of his great qualities. “I think it is very important to be able to keep a driver calm in the heat of the moment,” said Lambiase. “That's just how I am, that's my character. What also plays a role is that – and I don't want to sound arrogant – I set the bar and my own expectations extremely high. Maybe too high. I want everything to go perfectly and I know full well that that's not possible. But it allows me to quickly rationalize and learn from disappointments. While maybe I don't celebrate the highlights as I could or should. Colleagues here will say that I am not a party goer, but that is just how I am.”

An example of this is the celebration, just hours after Verstappen won his third world title in Qatar. While he (Max) is once again lifted on the shoulders by his mechanics in the Red Bull garage, Lambiase walks with his hands in his pockets and casually walking to the start of the pit lane for the team's next photo opportunity. Another moment, last week in Mexico: when a fan has his picture taken with Lambiase, the local asks the engineer if everything is okay between him and Verstappen. It won't be the first and won't be the last time he hears that. Things sometimes get heated between the two, for example recently in Austin.

“But we never argue. Sometimes it takes more than one or two hours after a race to come together again. We both have adrenaline in our bodies, sometimes you need to have some time for yourself before you say things you will regret. And there are also moments when I think: I could have conveyed that better. Max will have that too. We may have different opinions, but in the evening or the next day it is always okay.”

Honesty underestimated Lambiase has been working at Red Bull since 2015 and has been active as a race engineer for fourteen years, so he knows better than anyone how good the mutual bond should be. “You know what is hugely underestimated? How important a part honesty plays in the relationship between a racing engineer and driver. Being yourself is crucial to working productively and efficiently. The moment you start thinking 'I don't know if I should say that, because he might get angry', you are on a lost cause."

So he is not afraid to push back from the pit wall. “I don't think Max would want it any other way either. He's not someone who wants to walk all over you. He is clear, to the point. That's how he was raised. His father Jos trained him wonderfully. I take over that task to a very small extent on the circuit, through my responsibilities as an engineer. That dynamic seems to work well. I'm not an expert in sports psychology at all, but you have to feel the character of a driver to achieve the optimal. That is something fundamental in my work: being able to trust each other blindly, but also having an eye for the emotional side. Especially nowadays, the mental aspect is increasingly important. It's not just about talent or the car, but how someone can deal with that talent and their emotions.”

In that respect, Verstappen seems to be doing well. And the Limburger has also been working with Lambiase to his full satisfaction since his first day at Red Bull's flagship. In fact, after winning his first world title, he even said that he would quit immediately if his race engineer gave up.

“But I can see through that. First of all, no one is irreplaceable. And secondly: there is no way that when I walk out that door tomorrow, Max's Formula 1 career will be over. It is nice that he says that and it shows how well we treat each other,” says GP, who now also reveals that there is an exclusive collaboration. “The day that Max and I no longer work together in this setting will be the day that I would like to take on a different challenge. I don't think it's fair to any other driver if we try to emulate what I've done with Max since May 2016. I see this as something incredibly special and don't think anything like this will happen again. So I hope that we will continue in this way until 2028 ( Verstappen's current contract runs til 2028, ed.). Unless he or the team decides otherwise of course…”

Important sensor At the pit wall, Lambiase is overloaded with information and data, but he emphasizes how crucial the input from the driver himself is. A regular occurrence during a race, for example, is the Englishman asking his Dutch companion whether he would like a different adjustment of the front wing during the next pit stop.

“We indeed receive a lot of information about the balance of the car and the condition of the tires. But the most important sensor is Max himself. We can make all kinds of assumptions, but these are such small margins. The feedback from a driver is very important.”

Since last year, Lambiase has also been the Head of Race Engineering at Red Bull Racing. As a race engineer, he has previously worked with Vitantonio Liuzzi, Paul di Resta, Verstappen's current teammate Sergio Pérez and his predecessor Daniil Kvyat. But what makes Verstappen so good? Hardly anyone can estimate this better than Lambiase. “In my opinion, he has learned a lot from the difficult moments that occurred in 2017 and 2018. He has developed a racing style that not many drivers have. In recent years he has also proven to be very skilled in risk management. In 2021 he understood that he had to finish every race and could not afford DNFs. That year was so incredibly important for his growth. With that title in his pocket and a competitive car in recent years, he can estimate very well how much risk he has to take on Sunday. And also during the qualifying sessions he knows that he does not always have to show his balls or be the 105 percent version of Max Verstappen.”

"I see this as something incredibly special and don't think anything like this will happen again."

Just as Lambiase says he learned a lot in his twenties during his early years in the world, with teams such as Jordan, Midland and Spyker. “I opened myself up to learning things from the smart people around me. Since then I have gained a lot of experience, also through all the technical and sporting changes in the regulations that have occurred. When Max was promoted to Red Bull in 2016, the days leading up to that first race in Barcelona were very hectic and tense. The expectations were sky-high and as a driver you have the feeling after such an intervention that you cannot disappoint the bosses. Of course, he already had a reputation and we quickly saw that he was an exceptional talent. I knew I was in it for the long haul with Max. That has also proven to be the case.”

Despite the many races and the associated travel, Lambiase is far from tired of his work. “This industry is so dynamic. The goalposts never stand still and we always strive for perfection. The excitement that comes with it is what challenges me. It may seem that way to people, but it is not easy to win even one Formula 1 race. Everything has to be right. You've seen this year in Singapore that when you do it wrong, you have a problem. The fact that Max has now won sixteen of the nineteen races is not just because the car is good. That is mainly because of him, and because we make the right decisions as a team.”

What does a race engineer do?

Four minutes. That's how long it takes Gianpiero Lambiase to briefly and concisely describe his many tasks as a race engineer. This goes much further than just talking to the driver during sessions on the asphalt. “Sometimes I wish that were the case,” he says, smiling. “As a race engineer at Red Bull, I am actually responsible for the entire operation of the car on the track. And I work together with all our specialists in the field of aerodynamics, simulations, the engine, you name it. Everything to try to have the best and efficient package on the track as possible.”

It doesn't stop there. “As is known, most of the development of the car takes place in the factory in England. But we as engineers at the circuit itself have the task of testing these new parts and thus drawing the right conclusions. Sometimes this is for the short term, to benefit from it during the race weekend. But sometimes also for the long term for the design of the car, for example for the following year.”

Of course, the car's setup often involves a lot of tinkering during the weekend itself. “Then it is important that the set-up and balance of the car are to Max's liking. That it doesn't have too much understeer or oversteer. There are hundreds of things we can change mechanically or aerodynamically, based on simulations, but also what we invented ourselves on the track during training. I also think I have an important voice in the strategy. As a race engineer you have a fairly large overview and you are in fact the person between the driver and the team. The driver's feeling is evident. In addition, our feedback to the factory must be good, for example what are the things that Max encounters. That in turn helps them to further develop the car.”

#gianpiero lambiase #max verstappen #since I haven't seen anyone translate the full thing yet

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kasagia · 2 months

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Can't catch me now... pt. 2

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling xgrisha! reader Summary: The Hunger Games in Ravka. 12 districts. 12 tributes. 12 mentors. 11 young people die every year. 1 winner. Aleksander was a mentor to many. But only your face will haunt him for centuries. Inspired by: The Hunger Games. I changed the world of both of them a bit. Word Count: 4,4 k Taglist: @flostvs1508 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @aoi-targaryen @summersummoner-pat @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @msblacklupin Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist PART 1 ~•♤♤♤•~

"You look like death. Have you even slept an hour?" You shrug at Genya's question. The woman sighs and works on your face to make you presentable. "The general was furious. He's a good man, despite everything they say about him. You have to understand that... he didn't expect this turn of events, and his stoic attitude was violated. I swear, this is the second time I've seen him lose his cool. And I've been here since I was a child."

"When was the first time?" You ask curiously, not believing her for a moment. You couldn't trust anyone here. You could only count on yourself and no one else. You missed Alina a lot.

"I will tell you this with a complete twist. Anyway, if someone asks, you didn't know it from me. 40 years ago, in the Hunger Games, the General was... asked to be a mentor. Her name was Luda. She was brave and beautiful, with a good heart and a pure soul. She was a healer in her village. She volunteered. In exchange for her younger sister."

"And what happened? He scared her with his shadows because she was a vegetarian and didn't want to eat meat to get stronger?" You mock, as she is making final amendments to your look.

"She died." An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Genya was blindly combing your hair, obviously thinking about her. You could see from the look in her eyes that she must have been especially close to this tribute. "She was... close to the general. He had been mourning her death for a very long time. And I don't want to spread rumours, but the tribute who killed her and won the Hunger Games was found hanging in the forest near his home village. His family was soon convicted of conspiring against the crown and hanged in a more… spectacular way."

"I feel like you're not telling me this just to satisfy my curiosity." You guess as she finally pulls away from you.

You don't know what's worse, when she fixes your face with her strange power or when she looks at you intently, looking for something else to improve your appearance. You weren't used to caring THAT much about yourself. Because who would want to look at an orphan?

"I just want to warn you that… our choices don't necessarily affect only us." You roll your eyes at her attempt at intimidation. Of course. He couldn't make you do anything himself, so he sent his minions to convince you. Quite pathetic, like for the terrible Darkling, who everyone feared.

"I am an orphan. There's nothing he can take from me. I... I have nothing left to lose or to care about..." You say it quietly, rubbing your wrist with your hand. You try hard not to think about Alina and Mal. Your only family... all you have left after those you lost.

"And your life?"

"We're all going to die someday, Genya." Your soft whisper seals the uncomfortable silence.

You think about your parents and siblings—everyone you lost—and the life you could have had that fate ripped from you before you learned how to fight for yourself. You lost everything as a child. There's nothing left for you. At least nothing good.

"Here. You look amazing. There is only one thing missing." She says this with a smile and takes out a long, black coat with black and white embroidery from the closet. It's a kefta. A fucking kefta.

"What the hell is that?" You ask angrily, standing up from your chair and looking at the piece of clothing in utter disgust.

"The general ordered it especially for you. You are a Grisha. You are one of us, and you should present yourself as such." She says this and puts the kefta on the chair.

You walk up to it and run your hand over the material. You expected something rough—just like the general's character—and uncomfortable to wear, since the keftas protected Grisha from every blade and bullet, but this... was nothing like armor. It was soft and cozy. Like velvet. Nothing you may have experienced in your district.

"Black? Isn't that his colour?" You ask, trying to reassure yourself of how terrible this damn thing is.

"Merzost is closely associated with the Darkling bloodline in our culture, since he used it to create the fold. Consider it a… coincidental coincidence." You snort when you hear her explanation. If anything, it was a sign of belonging. The general's new toy. Freak of nature. What a pity he'll lose you before he can use you for the good of his fucking Grisha.

"Other people won't see it like that. You know this, so stop lying to me." The redhead sighs, running a hand through her hair.

"Just put it on. People need to know that the king broke his word to Grisha to force you to participate in the Hunger Games, breaking part of the covenant between us."

"This isn't my war to fight, Genya. Besides, I'm going to die in games anyway, so what's the difference?" Your response only enraged her more.

She didn't raise her voice, and you wouldn't have recognized her emotions unless you saw her hands tremble slightly before she placed them behind her back. You wonder how many times she has had to hide her true feelings.

"You have Merzost in your veins, the most powerful force you can draw from. Do you really want to give it all up? Lose the opportunity you have in front of you? Do you know how many of us have been waiting for you?" She asks with resentment in her voice, but you really don't want to argue with her.

You know it doesn't make sense because they are all here believing in some stupid children's story, a fairy tale that made you a savior in their eyes, and now, since you have finally arrived, you are supposed to fly around and pretend to be a hero you know you are not. As if you could do anything you wanted.

"I was dead long before I was chosen for The Hunger Games. Year after year I was only prolongs the inevitable. I am sorry, but that's the truth. Don't get your hopes up."

"I see that my favourite suicide is in good shape today." Your discussion is interrupted by the appearance of the Darkling. You sigh, rolling your eyes at him. You seriously considered throwing yourself at the spear of one of those ancient armored knights that decorated the halls of the palace. At least you wouldn't have to endure his presence any longer. "Are you rested? Fed?"

"Don't you have something else to do instead of keeping an eye on me? Or send your minions to do it for you? This is getting tiring and irritating." Genya gives you an offended look. She huffs, leaving the chambers as she gets a nod from the Darkling.

"I am your mentor. It's my duty to take care of you." He says, clasping his hands behind him once you're left alone. He looks at you carefully and takes a step towards you. This time, you don't step back but stare at him defiantly.

"Then it is with great pleasure that I would like to relieve you of this obligation." Your words only make him chuckle. He straightens a piece of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. His fingertips brush against your cheek, making you shiver. However, you do nothing to let him know how much his proximity bothers you.

"Oh, you won't make it. Only a king can do this. Do you like your kefta?" He asks, changing the subject. You turn your head towards the offending fabric still hanging on the chair.

"It looks like a floor rag." You say, not hiding your disgust. He chuckles darkly again. He takes the kefta in his hands and unfolds it, pretending to look at it carefully as he walks over to you again.

"Then Karamzin must be richer than I thought, if this is what your floor rags look like. Especially the orphanage."

"Have you been rummaging through my files? What for?" You ask in shock, trying to mask your fear. If he finds out about Alina and Mal… you don't want to have any more deaths on your conscience.

"Better put it on if you don't want to find out very soon." You decide to follow your better judgement instead of your pride and turn your back on him, letting him put on the hideous kefta. Surprisingly, the material hugs you perfectly. You feel warm and soft—the complete opposite of what you know. You gasp in shock as he reaches for his belt and pulls you towards him. You bump into his chest as he tightens the belt around your waist. "Good girl. Now, put your hand in the crook of my arm and smile nicely, and everything will turn out great today. And if you keep behaving as a good girl, you'll get dessert tonight."

"I'd rather gouge out my eyes and sew my mouth shut than be an obedient little doll that you can dress however you want and show everyone."

"I'd reconsider it if I were you. The chefs baked a chocolate cake today. With chocolate-covered cherries on top. Have you ever had a chance to eat something like it?" He smiles, almost mischievously, as he stands next to you, still waiting for you to follow his instructions.

"Son of a bitch." You mutter under your breath and he laughs. He must have been drunk. He couldn't be in such a good mood. Not him.

"That's actually very ture, my little wellspring." He says and leads you to a slaughter worse than the Hunger Games... he leads you to a party for the Games. Among the nobility. You shudder just thinking about this nightmare (not because he puts his bigger hand on yours).

"You have a very beautiful dress!" You force a fake smile on your lips when a noblewoman compliments you.

"Thank you." You say, sipping your glass of wine. The only good thing that happened to you at the party was alcohol. And even then, the Darkling tried to limit you to this one pleasure, making sure that you didn't drink too much.

Your head hurt from all the nonsense conversations with all these people who were only famous for being born into rich families. Terrible. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice several tributes also struggling to maintain their composure. At least you weren't the only one.

However, after you turned out to be Grisha, the rest of the tributes tended to avoid you. You knew from the beginning that you wouldn't have any friends among them, but it would be nice to have one friendly soul in this terrible place.

"I didn't think the people of District 12 would fit into our community so well, but you, darling, look absolutely perfect." You barely stop yourself from throwing the glass you're holding at her. Instead, you tighten your grip on him and smile politely at her, gritting your teeth in anger.

"I'm glad I can surprise you."

Fortunately, you don't have to talk to her anymore. The general approaches you quickly, noticing your tenseness, and with his natural grace, he places his hand on your waist, starting a conversation with a woman who turns out to be a close friend of the queen. Oops. It's better that he came to you, because you wouldn't apologise if you accidentally allowed Merzost to break free and turn her into a volcra.

As you stand next to them, as larger crowds of women begin to gather around you, you realize a terrible truth. The Darkling was your only support here. Him and Genya.

You flinch as he suddenly tightens his grip on your waist and guides you away from the group of noblewomen, who giggle as you both walk away. You allow yourself to roll your eyes at them.

"What the hell was that?" He asks you angrily, setting your glass down on the table. You automatically reach for it again, but he grabs your hand before you can take it and keeps it away from the alcohol.

"I was just about to ask you the same fucking thing." You respond in a defiant tone, glaring daggers at him. Your stomach was starting to growl, and the bastard wouldn't let you touch anything to eat until you fulfilled your end of the bargain and behaved yourself. As you and he can see, you didn't do very well.

"Don't grimace around them as if they were pouring salt into your open wounds." He says it angrily and lets go of your hand. He reaches for something from the buffet. You freeze when he hands you a tiny plate with some fruit. You lick your lips, staring at your food for a moment before looking back at him. "It's for avoiding causing a drama. Partly. Try harder, and I'll let you eat whatever you want."

"But that's what they do! Do you have any idea what it's like to have to stand there smiling and nodding your head while these snobs from the capital talk about how your people and the city are octopus and beneath them?!" You hiss so only he can hear it, but you take the plate of food from him anyway. God knows when you'll get something again.

"I'm Grisha. I know exactly what you are going through." You would laugh at him mockingly if you didn't have a mouth full of food. He looks at you disgusted, and you quickly get the hint and eat smaller portions.

"Please. You've been doing fine since the Hunger Games. At least your people don't have to die every year to the delight of a bunch of sadistic idiots with stuffed bras and fake hair." Your comment makes him bite his lip, but he still can't help but smile a little. Few people could make him laugh and laugh at the same time. As you can see, Merzost wasn't the only special thing about you.

However, your hostile look reminds him that you are in the middle of an argument, and it is his turn to present his argument. God, how much work he had to do with you. You will kill him before he can get you safely through the Hunger Games.

"But years ago we were hunted by all of you, and somehow I don't spit on every Ravkan and kill them for it."

"Because you didn't experience it. If you were there, you would act differently." You sound confident. He shakes his head, wondering how you would react to the truth. Although now he seems to be more interested in food than in anything he has to say. He had to finally feed you. His Merzost Holder couldn't go hungry. It's enough that you experienced hunger and poverty in District 12.

"You think?" He asks, setting your empty plate on the table and offering his hand to you. You look at him for a moment, confused by the sudden… change in his attitude.

"General?"

"You can dance, can't you?" He asks, taking your hand, and without waiting for your response, he leads you to the dance floor. The rest of the mentors have no such idea, so you both are closely watched by all the participants in the ball.

"A little." You say shyly, something he's experiencing from you for the first time. He smiles fondly at you, which, of course, you don't see, too embarrassed to look at anything other than your shoes. But others see. The general's small smile does not go unnoticed by his closest soldiers.

"I guess I have to work with that." He says this and gently lifts your chin to look at him. He places a hand on your waist, and the other holds yours in an iron, steady grip. "Eyes on me. Put your hand on my shoulder and try not to fall. Keep up with me, and everything will be fine."

All you can do is trust him, which you do with surprising ease for him. Somehow, he can't take his eyes off you. You looked gorgeous in the black kefta, especially with his symbol embroidered on the back—a little thing you didn't need to know yet. And so, looking at you, Aleksander can't help but wonder what it would be like if he met you under different circumstances. Maybe if he were younger, less experienced... if his mother's words didn't ring so loudly in his head every time he started to feel something akin to tenderness towards you. Maybe if he hadn't lost so many...

Meanwhile, you try to fight the strange feeling he gives you every time his skin touches yours. You feel a strange pull, a calling, and you realise how your power, the same one you tried to ignore and forget for so many years, comes to life under his touch. You hated it. And him. For trying to break down the walls that you put up for so long and so hard. For trying to make you the Grisha you hated. For making it so easy for you to sink into the arms of the Black Heretic ancestor.

And at the same time… it was nice to feel important for a change… even if just for a moment.

So you dance with him, agreeing to this little moment of truce between you two. Deciding that you would look for answers later as to why you felt so attached to him. And why every time he touched you you felt so… powerful.

"That was awful." You groan as you finally return to your chambers, with the Darkling by your side, of course.

He hasn't left you since that dance. He was always somewhere next to you as you talked with the nobility. You have gained several sponsors and the favour of important people in Os Alta. The Darkling was pleased. And you're exhausted.

"And wonderful. You did great, much better than I expected. The servants should bring our dinner soon." He says, sitting next to you on the couch, watching as you take off your kefta and throw it in the corner of the room. He bites his lip, deciding not to comment. He already expected a lot from you today. The manners lesson could have been taught another time.

"Our?" You ask surprised, not expecting him to stay longer than necessary.

"Do you mind?"

"Yes." You answer honestly and straight away, to which he just laughs.

"I wish I cared." He replies with a mischievous smile. You roll your eyes as you take off your shoes and try to pick any pins out of your hair. Genya seemed to enjoy tormenting you. There were definitely too many of them. "So a healer? Really?" He asks, referring to your last conversation. Someone asked you what you wanted to do before you got into The Hunger Games. You decided to answer truthfully once. Of course, you were laughed off and called a sweet, naive soul willing to help. You wanted to vomit on their polished, gold-plated shoes.

"Why not?" You ask angrily. He raises his hands defensively with a smirk, seeing how fed up you are with everything that happened today.

"It's rather… a thankless profession among the common people. Healers usually come to them when they are dying. Relieve suffering. They are the harbinger of death, almost like a reaper. Usually, they are not coming to actually extend their lives."

"So you must have had similar experiences." You scoff, making him think about it. This wasn't what you expected. You were expecting a rather harsh answer. Not a pensive, almost sad look. For a moment, you think that maybe he, too, could just be human. You shake your head. No. He was just one of them. He couldn't have any... human feelings or know the real pain.

"Painful but true. They don't get excited when they see me either." His whisper should make you change the subject, but after the terrible day he put you through, all you want to do is stick a pin in him where it hurts the most.

"I wonder why..." You start, but he cuts you off before you can finish.

"Don't mock. You were behaving so nicely. I prefer you to smile than spit acid."

"I wish I cared." You repeat his words from a while ago, trying to imitate his tone of voice. He rolls his eyes at you, but somehow you both do nothing more than make snide comments to each other. Taking advantage of the relatively quiet moment between you, you decide to ask him honestly. "What do you want from me?"

"To win." He replies simply, playing with the ring on his finger. He rolls it over on his finger, resting his chin on his hand as he looks at you intently. A shiver runs through you as the dark depths of his eyes meet yours. Undeterred by his short, evasive answer, you continue, knowing that this is your only chance to get something from him.

"And then what? You won't let me go back to my district." You say, knowing perfectly well that this is not an option for you. IF you win.

"You are right. You will live here. With Grisha. The people you belong to." You frown, dissatisfied with his answer. You weren't Grisha. You will never be. No matter how much he pushes and forces you to become one of them.

"Unless I die, which is very probably since I am not going to kill anyone on the arena." You remind him. He doesn't seem to take your promise seriously. You don't convince him. He will see for himself in the arena how serious you are about your decision.

"You won't die." He says it firmly, as if it were an obvious fact.

"How can you..."

"YOU WON'T!" He yells at you, standing up. You sit stoically in the same position as before, watching as the shadows in the corner of the room gather around him. He sighs and waves them away. "I've been waiting a long time for you, Y/N. You are the one of your kind and even more precious than a Sun Summoner. I won't see your dead body. No matter how much you want it."

"Leave." You say, too tired to argue with him, to tell him that you have no intention of being an obedient tool in his hands, that you won't be a weapon that he can use.

"That's my palace." Furious at his words, you get up to face him. You look at each other with pure hatred.

You are too tired to notice that a dark mass is beginning to form around your arms. But Aleksander sees it. And he watches with fascination as you let your powers slip through. Out of curiosity, he summons his shadows behind you. Just a small black cloud. However, for some reason, under the influence of your powers, the room is plunged into complete darkness. He looks at you in shock, realising that you had unknowingly empowered him by providing him with energy from Merzost. Unbelievable.

"And my room for a while, so prove to me you can sometimes be the nobel man everyone told me you are and leave me alone." You whisper; all you can see in the dark surrounding you are its irises, analysing you with undisguised fascination and admiration.

If only you trained, if you learned to control what was inside you... Aleksander wouldn't have to take anyone into account; he could just declare himself tsar, threatening the Ravkans to expand the fold if they didn't recognise Grisha's greatness. All he needed was you.

"As you wish." He says, deciding to let you win this fight. He takes your hand and holds it tight as he calls his shadows back to him. They come back in a second. One blink, and the darkness in the room disappears. Impossible. Even his mother didn't have that much control in her glory days. He wondered if you would have this effect only on him or on other Grisha as well. But no. He won't share this secret with anyone. Not yet. For now, you were only his little wellspring of power. "Tomorrow is the first day of your training. 7 A.M. Don't be late, or I will drag you out of your bed by myself." He says, letting go of your hand and walking towards the exit, trying hard not to steal glances at you. He would have to look into his grandfather's journals and old books. You were a real mystery. And he was just waiting to see what more you could do besides complete him perfectly.

"Go to hell." You mutter under your breath, rubbing the hand that was in his iron grip a few moments ago. You felt that stupid electric thrill again. It definitely had to have something to do with your strange connection. Darkling and Merzost Holder. You had to find out more about it. Maybe you need to start being nice to Genya after all...

"Excuse me?" He asks, turning around in the doorway when he hears the insult from you.

"Sleep well." You reply with a sweet, cynical smile. He shakes his head in amusement and decides to ignore your behavior. He'll give you a hard time at training tomorrow. See how far your skills range. With a little training, who knows... maybe you'll be able to bring people back from the dead.

Involuntarily, his thoughts turn to Luda. If he had you by his side earlier… no. He couldn't think about her. He knows that history would have turned out the same way. Because even if you had revealed yourself to him earlier, he would have been too busy with you to see anyone else.

Aleksander promises himself that he will do everything to prevent you from becoming his second Luda. He had enough ghosts of his past tormenting him at night. And you can't become another one of them. If necessary, I will kill these tributes myself. He will find a way. He always did.

Unless someone dares to interfere with his plans... just like last time. That's why, immediately after leaving your chambers, he goes to the only person he knows who will be able to protect you from his greatest enemy.

"Ulla?! Sister?! I have an offer you can't refuse!" He calls from the shore of the lake in the gardens of Little Palace.

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spiderrrling · 8 months

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Seventeen - JD! Eddie x Veronica! Reader

you guys aren't going to believe who it is....me with writing

this is part of my unfinished vip that is theatre kid! Eddie x theatre kid! reader where they play JD and Veronica from Heathers

note: this is unedited in rough writing stages, its not even proofread but I wanted to post it!!

"you know, for this to work you're gonna have to get close to me at some point"

"You- you're right," the admission left your lips with a breath of air which seemed to deflate you more than it probably should have.

"So what's the problem here?" Eddie leant against your wall, seemingly trying to put as much distance between the two of you as he could, which admittedly wasn't much. "And don't tell me there isn't one."

He was right, of course. He'd picked up on it all and if you were being honest you weren't shocked.

Sitting across from him in a booth in the diner, or in the passenger seat of his car. The nerves and excitement still churned in your stomach but it wasn't the same as the heavy panic that seemed to set in whenever he was close, too close.

"Its just that-" the words did not want to come, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you looked away from him, staring directly at your door, "I've never been...kissed?"

You realized how pathetic you must have sounded, the words sounding more like a question rather than an admission of complete lack of experience.

Only daring to look back at him when you heard him breathe out a soft laugh. His doe brown eyes soft as they met yours, his fingers playing with the rings on his hand nervously, it was calming not being the only nervous one for once.

"And this is not how you expected it to go?" There he went again, reading you like an open playbook.

"Yeah,"

"With me?" The look in his eyes said so much more than his words ever could, with *me* he'd said. Eddie Munson, town freak.

"With anyone," you refuted his point, and it wasn't a complete lie.

"Well, we can't have that now can we?" The mischief sparked up his eyes and tugged at the corner of his lips, scrunching his nose ever so slightly. "So.... we need a plan."

Eddie turned around, his eyes scanning across your bookshelf, fingers trailing the dustry shelves as his eyes wildly flew from title to tile blindly searching for something, he knew what he was looking for but he had no idea what it might look like.

"What- what exactly are you doing?" Words seemed to be getting stuck in your throat, this was new territory, unchoreographed scenes where you had no idea what would come next.

"Looking for inspiration..." Eddie seemed almost lost in his own plans and schemes as his words trailed off. "Romance novels, a script, something... a diary," he turned back around to face you, the mischievous grin bigger than before, eyebrows raised.

"A diary?"

"What you're not a hopeless romantic who rambles about being kissed by the perfect guy?"

"What no- no!" You could not believe this was the conversation you were having, hands covering your face and you weren't sure if it was due to the utter disbelief or the embarrassment.

"No you're not a hopeless romantic or no don't write about it in your diary?"

"Who's to even say I have a diary?"

"So that's yes to both, where is it?" He looked almost like a little kid, nearly giddy with what you could only describe as devious plans. It took all your might to keep your eyes on Eddie and to not look at your bedside table

"Eddie, you're not reading my diary,"

"So you admit it, you have fantasized about it,"

"Ok fantazised is a very strong word,"

"If you won't let me read, will you at least tell me?" He sat down across from you on the bed, his legs crossed, picking up one of your pillows into his lap, and you couldn't help but think just how out of place he looked, but he seemed so at home. There seemed to be something almost genuine in his eyes, yet you were terrified to trust him completely. "I promise I won't laugh, I have no reason to."

Almost on instinct he held out his pinkie to you, his smile vanished for just a minute to really show you he meant business.

"C'mon, it's just me, I'm nothing dangerous." You swore he grinned like the devil when he said that, and maybe that's why you took his pinkie in your own.

You let yourself fall onto your back, eyes sliding shut, once again not being able to look at him.

"I don't think I ever actually imagined it...more than like wanting it to be special, with someone I like..." teeth dug into your bottom lip, guarding your words carefully before you continued, "and it would be natural, not forced, like I'd be laughing from something they said and they'd just lean over and kiss me, and that's all it would be."

He didn't say anything, but you felt the mattress dip next to you from his weight, laying shoulder to shoulder with you and you realize it's the closest the two of you ever have been to each other, and the alarm bells in your mind weren't going off, the panic wasn't building. It was nice.

"You didn't laugh," you open one eye and glance over at him just to find his eyes closed.

"I promised, didn't I?" Something about that made your thoughts stand still, go into a quiet, comfortable lull, it made breathing just a little bit easier.

"So... Do you like me?" Now that question caught you off guard and you found yourself instinctively move away from him just a little bit. "Nono stay, it's nice having you not tense up whenever I get close, and no- not like *that*, as a friend, a person if you will."

"You're not half bad, I suppose," it felt good to smile because of him, there was something really easy about it.

"You suppose?!" The fake hurt dripping from his voice is infatuation and you cannot help but laugh, you feel his hand leave yours and you see him grabbing one of the teddy bears off your bed, "she supposes!" he exlaims while looking the bear right in the eyes.

Eddie uses his fingers to manipulate the bear to life, moving the bear to look at you next.

"Yeah, I guess."

"And now she guesses!"

"Well, if I am not so half bad then?" He turned on the mattress, laying to face you, but you were still struggling to gather the courage to actually look him in the eye.

"Then what?" You folded your hands over your stomach, linking your fingers together, trying your best to stay composed because deep down you knew what was coming next.

"You know what I am asking," his voice was soft, calm, not at all what you had expected.

"Here? Now?" The realization of what he might mean dawned on you, and as if almost on cue, the same pit of anxiety started growing in your stomach, making your mouth dry and making your limbs go numb.

"No- no, let me take you out," he laid back down on the bed, prying your fingers appart and grabbing your hand, it was as if he had figured out how to make you comforable, "as friends, don't go thinking anything else, and I'll make it special."

"Special, only as friends," you repeated quietly, your eyes drifting back to the light fixture bolted to your ceiling, taking deep, slow breaths. "When? Because with rehersals and school, you know I have a very busy schedule-"

"Thursday, we're supposed to run lines anyway so I know you're free," you didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling, you could hear it in his voice. "And before you say anything, you will still live if we skip one afternoon of running lines to kiss me."

"You're sure?"

"About the kiss or the lines?"

"Both." It was your turn to make him laugh, a genuine laugh from a genuine joke, not laughing at your lack of experience, an actual laugh. A deep chuckle from his chest. It felt good.

"Mmmh, I'll do my best but no promises,"

"Can I ask you something?"

"I'm an open book," you didn't doubt what he said, as long as you had the courage to ask you fully believed Eddie would tell you the truth.

"How many people have you kissed?" You put your finger on what exactly had changed between you, but there was now a lightnes hanging in the space you were sharing with Eddie. It was easier to breathe, as long as you kept your eyes fixated on the ceiling.

"Me? Why'd you wanna know?" That stupid coy smile was back on his lips, the exact kind that seemed to get under your skin a little too easily.

"I suppose I just need to know if theres like a mountain of people I need to compete with here,"

And he laughed, that same laugh that made everything in the air between you feel lighter, an atmosphere where it became easier to breathe.

"Me? A mountain?" You can still hear the laugh in his voice as he speaks, "you are aware of well, this?" he quickly gestures to all of himself, the harsh denim, leather and metal combination that makes up so much of his wardrobe.

And you can't help but feel just a little bit stupid, you weren't blindly unaware as to his social standing in the general town of Hawkins, but it was still Eddie. Someone who had an air of efortlessness around him, and he wasn't bad looking, just maybe not what you would class as the typical highschool look.

But you had also heard the swirling rumors, the resident outcast didn't only come with rumors of satanism and devil worship.

And all of it weren't rumors, you had seen it with your own eyes, the looks between him and Natalie last year, their failed attempts of hiding quick kisses backstage between calls. So there had been at least one. You knew that.

Had he been laying on her bed last year? Fingers laced and sharing secrets just as you were now. Had he given her her first kiss?

"Ok yeah fair enough Mr president of the Hellfire Club," you laugh and do your best to elbow him in the ribcage, "but you still have, right?"

"Yeah, of course I have-," he pauses for a moment, his hand immediately coming up to cover his eyes when he realized what he had said, "not- not of course like *that* more like yes I have, you know what I mean? Right?"

There was something ever so slightly satisfying about seeing Eddie Munson be the flustered one out of the two of you for once. With his hand pulled over his eyes and you swore you could see just the slightest amount of pink in his cheeks.

"I know," you quickly squeeze his other and which you are still holding in yours.

"But for your reference, I prefer master of the Hellfire Club, not president," you know he is joking, but you cant help but wonder if he does actually mean it deep down. You don't know much about the Hellfire Club, other than the alledged rumors they're responsible for all the weird things going on in Hawkins.

And a part of you is intrigued, it's near impossible to miss the props they use for their game when you're backstage, the big, black, wooden throne Eddie stored along with a handpainted banner of their logo had made you stop and look on more than one occation.

"Whatever you say, master of Hellfire Club." And thats all you say for a minute, for the first time you didn't feel the need to fill the empty space between you with lines or questions, the silence was comfort enough for once.

"Do you find it weird I haven't?" For the first time you do more than sneak a quick glance at him, turning your head on the mattress you can see his profile, the mess of his dark tangle of curls laying right next to you. "Kissed anyone, that is," you add quickly.

"Weird? No, I know you're weird but not because of that," you feel his elbow nudge you in the side, and you can't help but laugh, "I was more surprised."

"Surprised?" Did that mean he had thought about you?

"Yeah, just didn't expect you to not have been kissed," he stopped for a second, carefully trying to detangle the web of questions it seems he wants to ask, "didn't James ask you to homecoming or whatever?"

"Oh- no, I mean he did, ask me that is, but I didn't go with him," you stumble over your words as they hapazardly leave your lips, suddenly wanting nothing more than to sink into your bed and never resurface.

He's quiet, just for a moment, what you have realized is that rarely anything ever truly quiet when it comes to Eddie, "Sooo, why didn't you go?"

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Wouldn't want anything else,"

"I kinda didn't want to?"

"Once again, you surprise me," and there he went again, carefully difusing the immediate anxiety that built in your stomach.

"But you still want to go with me? Tomorrow?"

"Yeah- yeah of course," you do your best to sound sure of yourself, of your own words, but there is still the unexplicable anxiety festering in your stomach with every passing second. Where part of you wishes he would just kiss you, right here, right now.

Getting it over with would be better than another restless night of wonder filled anxiety.

Maybe you could be friends with Eddie Munson, laughing in a booth between the sharing of scripted lines, laying on your bed sharing innocent secrets you havent told anyone else, listening to his newest music concotion he's created on a mixed tape in his car.

Yeah, that shouldn't be too hard.

----

Two days had passed, two entire days had come and gone. And your sheets still smelled like Eddie Munson.

The dark scents still hung onto the soft sheets, to your bear, your pillow. Every breath you take was as if he was stil laying beside you as you swapped secrets.

It had become another reminder of just how entangled he was becoming in your life. It was astonishing how quickly someone could establish themselves in your life.

Which is why the slight pang in your chest at the thought of his scent slowly dwindling was making more sense with every passing moment. Not that you were fully ready to admit that to yourself just yet.

"You're gonna skip rehersals,"

"But-"

"Consider it a type of rehersal then if you will," he was quick to dispute your protests, and he was right. This was a step you had to cross, "You're gonna go home, do whatever you want to do, get dressed up, do your makeup, anything,"

"And then, I am going to pick you up,"

"Do I get to know where you're taking me?"

"No, that is a surprise,"

You probably shouldn't be surprised to see Eddie standing beneath your window with a handfull of pebbles guarded carefully in his hand, along with his normal michevious smile.

"What are you doing!" You whisper shout down at him, why you're not really sure, but it felt like the appropriate thing to do.

"I'm here to pick you up!" He said it like it was the most normal thing in the whole world, but there was something different about him, you could tell even at a distance, but exactly what you werent sure of yet, "isn't this what they do in all of the movies?"

You wanted to dipute it, throw some snarky comment back at him and hope in exhange he would laugh, but you couldn't. He was doing this for you.

"Just know, I'm not climbing out the window I am going out the front door,"

"It's your night princess," He said just before attempting a small bow, earning laughs from both of you.

The butterflies were back, but they didn't gnaw at your stomach like the nerves did, they were unsetteling in their own terrifying way.

"My lady," Eddie opened the passenger door for you, just as one would a carriage and gestured for you to get in, "your evening awaits."

You didn't say anything, you struggled with telling if it was the nerves or fi it was the excitement making your head spin ever so slightly.

Only climbing into the passenger seat of Eddie's old dinged up van.

"You know...technically since you haven't told me where we are going this could be considered kidnapping,"

"Technically," Eddie held up a finger, but he didn't look at you, not even a quick glance, his eyes were glued to the road in front, "you got in the car willingly."

"And you're still not planning on telling me where you are taking me?"

"Do you not understand the concept of a surprise?" his tone was never mean, never condecending, always the same level of playfull and easiness to his voice.

You only rolled your eyes at him, with every turn of the car you tried to detangle the clues as to where he actually was taking you.

There wasn't much to the town of Hawkins, and it did not matter how long you lived there, somehow there was always a new spot, a new something to be discovered.

When he finally stopped the car it felt as if you had been there for years, but it couldn't have been more than a couple minutes tops.

For once the silence sitting between you felt comfortable, normal. Not the same way it used to feel suffocating.

"Here?"

"No, not just yet, but I'm gonna need you to close your eyes,"

"Close my eyes?"

"Yes ma'am,"

"Why?"

"You're still not understanding the concept of surprises I see,"

You roll your eyes at him and do as he says, even bringing your hands up to cover your eyes. "Happy?" you ask, turning as if to look at him, and his reasounding laughter leaves you with a smile on your lips.

"Very."

You feel the car start to move again, trust. This all had to be some weird trust exersice for the two of you that he had deviced.

Your sense of distance was well... distorted, to say the least. Any semblance of ideas where he might take you was completely gone, because now you could be just about anywhere. If there even was an anywhere in Hawkins, there was barely a somewhere.

"Okok, wait here," Eddie said as the car finally stopped and you heard him open the driver door. The door next to you swung open, and you knew he was right there next to you. "Give me your hand, but don't open your eyes!"

Giving up at resisting you fumble around blindly untill you find Eddies hand and he holds it firmly in his own as he helps you out of the car.

"Ok, right here," he moves to stand behind you, your hand still in his, and you open your eyes. "Ta-da."

You take a second adjusting to the harsh light, blinking a couple of times before you can begin to orient yourself. A lake?

"Do you like it?"

"It's a lake,"

"Yes, but do you like it?"

"Eddie, it's a lake, I don't particularly have strong feelings about a lake,"

"Nonono, not any lake, lovers lake," he's moved to stand in front of you and you have to hold back from laughing. Obvious, you probably should have guessed. "I've brought marshmallows, thought we'd make a fire."

He doesn't let you say anything before he starts working on his grand plan, only gestures for you to sit down.

The unforgiving summer temperatures in Indiana had slowly lulled into a cooler fall, but there were still traces of the last summer everywhere. There was still those hints of the sweet summer air left only just starting to be undercut by the sharp chill air of fall.

With the stars hanging low in the sky reflected in the lake. Lover lake. Of all places.

It might have been a bit obvious, but there was something satisfying about a cliche.

"Sooo, how do you know about this place?" you sit down in the back of the van, letting your legs dangle over the edge of the bed.

"My uncle, he used to take me here during the summer, taught me all the manly things," you have to hold back laughter as you look at him, hunched over, with his toungue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, "fishing, firing a gun, and luckily for you, how to start a fire."

"Well thank you Mr. Munson,"

He never mentioned his parents, only ever his uncle. There wasn't really much you knew about Eddie Munson besides the surface level tuff and circulating gossip and rumors.

He lived in the trailer park of Curley, with his uncle, who worked the night shift somewhere. You knew that he broke his last romantic stage partners heart once the show was over.

He was a tennor with a good vocal range and had been in just about every theatre production Hawkins High had to offer.

Oh, and that there was always a low level chance he was part of a devil worshiping cult.

Exactly the kind of person you would want to be alone in the woods with, late at night, when no one knew where you were.

Deep down you knew that he wasn't a devil worshiper, but that also wasn't what made you the most anxious.

Glancing over at him it was easy to forget all the things people said about Eddie Munson, when he was here next to you without the constant noise from the people of Hawkins.

Here you could trace the soft lines of his face with the quick stolen glances you allowed yourself, watching the long shadows grow on his face with passing time.

"So why did you pick this place?" Your legs dangled over the edge of the van, sitting on the threadbare blanket Eddie kept in the back, your eyes wandering over the water, trying your best not to look at him as he worked.

"I thought you would like it, it's quiet but there's always something going on," Eddie sat down next to you, and you had to actively keep reminding yourself to not reach for his hand the way he had reached for yours the other day, "it kinda reminds me of you in that way."

Suddenly, you were happy with the dimming light and the soft orange glow from the fire as you hoped it would camoflague at least some of the blush that grew on your face.

"I do- like it,"

"Good, and-" Eddie reached for something behind him, rummaging through his bag to find what he was looking for, "this, is for you."

He held out a small package in front of you, wrapped with what had to be left over holiday paper, with probably more tape than paper in the end.

"Don't judge my wrapping skills, as you well know my talents lie elsewhere." He said as you carefully picked the package out of his hands, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"It's a mixtape-" you said, turning it over in your hands, there was no writing on it like there normally was, just a blank casette.

"No, it's our mixtape," Eddie snatched the tape from out of your hands before quickly jumping out of the back of the van so he could place it in the stereo. "I made it for you."

"You made me a mixtape?" You couldn't tell in your own voice if it was surprise or disbelief, you had seen the box of his tapes in the van but you never expected him to make you one. Wondering what exactly Eddie Munson would put on a first kiss mixtape.

But once again, you find yourself surprised at the workings of his mind. Slow, carefully crafted music started pouring from the static speakers.

"My lady," Eddie stood in front of you, repeating the nickname from earlier and holding out his hand for you to take. "You do dance, right?"

You reach for the hand he offered you, letting him help you to your feet and suddenly you find yourself closer to Eddie than you had expected.

One of his arms wrapped around your waist, the other still holding your hand tightly in his. Carefully, you place your free hand ovr his shoulder, resisting the temptation to play with his curls.

"Happy now?" You ask as you smile up at him, being mindful of where you were placing your feet on the rough and uneven ground.

"Well, you didn't flinch this time," you move slowly together as Eddie coreographs your movements, swaying you side to side in time with the music. "So I'll take that as a win."

You had danced with Eddie before, but never like this. Always awkward steps as you both learned choreography to a number a comfortable distance apart.

Never wrapped in his arms slowly swaying to static music from an old car radio.

"Do you dance much Eddie?" You laugh as he stumbles over a root sticking out of the ground.

"Normally no- but for pretty girls who need their first kiss, I make exeptions."

"You're ridiculous,"

"And you're beautiful."

You knew he was just saying it, part of the whole pantomime to make the whole ordeal special for you.

But that didn't mean you were completely blind to the charm of his empty words.

"See look at you, you're a natural," Eddie said as he guided you to twirl, careful to never let go of your hand.

You take turns stealing glances at one another, anticipating when he is not looking so you can steal the next one, carefully studying every milieter of his face with a million hurried looks.

Something about him looked so at peace, his dark brown eyes looking almost black in the dimming light, the same careful carefree smile on his lips.

His fingers splayed against your lower back locking you into his every movement, the small comforts of it all.

Eddie was just a friend, but he looked so pretty, with those long dark eyelashes resting against his cheek as he closed his eyes.

You feel the need to look around, despite knowing no one is watching you, it feels like breaking the rules when you stand up on your tip toes and quickly press your lips against his.

It's not even a second, and yet your heart is racing so fast you can feel it through your entire body, eyes sliding shut as you quickly realize you do not dare look at him.

"That's not a real kiss," there seems to be almost a twinge of disbelief in his voice, and you can feel his hot breath against your face as he speaks, but you don't dare open your eyes, "doesn't count."

You feel his hand slide into your hair, cupping the side of your face and pulling you towards him, closing the small space between you.

The arm around your waist tightens, bringing your body closer to his and he stops swaying with the music. And just like that he is kissing you, properly, this time.

You have no idea what to do, letting him take the lead as you carefully lean into him just that little bit more.

His lips moving against yours, carefully, as if he's worried if he goes too fast you'll fall apart right in front of his eyes, and maybe he isn't wrong.

It was the kind of kiss that made you long for the promise of more.

When his lips leave yours it feels as if an eternity had passed, and only one thought hangs stranded in your mind. Friends.

You're just friends with Eddie Munson. He was just doing you a favor, a strange, maybe slightly fucked up favor, something that also served his interests.

And thats what stops you from leaning into him again, despite the soft look in his dark brown eyes when he finally opens them, despite the giggly feeling that was making your head spin, despite really wanting to.

The last rays of the evening sun cast long shadows across his face, and for the first time Eddie wasn't the picture everyone made him to be, he finally looked like Eddie.

You had no idea what to say, where to even begin, but it seemed Eddie took the smile on your face as confirmation enough. His own smile was infatuating, it seemed genuine.

His hand was still tangled in your hair, and his touch seemed to linger on you, carefully holding you together in one piece within the embrace of his arms.

"Not too bad right?"

"I suppose since you had a mountain of girls to practice on," you laugh as you place your head against his chest, hearing each beat of his heart.

"Once again with the supposing," he gives your hand a quick squeeze, both of you seeming to find peace in your old inside jokes.

"Thank you," you look up at him through your eyelashes, giving him what you hope is a reassuring smile.

"Nothing to thank me for," and as he speaks the reality of the situation hits you again, the uncomfortable reality that you're both playing a part for a role.

There is nothing to thank him for, because this also serves his own self interest. You do your best to push away the pang of pain that hits you right in the chest.

Ignoring the screaming thoughts of distrust that seemed to race through your mind faster than you knew how to tame them.

Because there was still that part of you that wanted to believe Eddie and everything he said. That he was doing this because he genuinely cared for you. Not because he had a role to fulfill, and you stood in the way of making that happen.

Did he take Natalie down here? Make her a mixtape of slow songs they danced to? Was what they had real? While what you had with Eddie was nothing but pretend from all sides?

Mostly, pretend. That is.

"Now- one more surprise," Eddie's words pull you out of your spiral before he carefully untangled his body from yours, dropping your hand, hand leaving your waist, and quickly you realized just how cold the night had grown.

"One more?" You could only see his back as he pulled out something else from his bag, "you really had this planned out," you say to no one in particular, the words hanging empty in the space between the two of you.

"Ta-daa," he finally says as he turns around, presenting you with his copy of the script, and you can't help but laugh. Of course.

"I- I didn't bring my script," you blurt out, which is true. You're resisting again,and you would like to claim you didn't know why, but you knew the more time you spent with Eddie the more difficult it was becoming to distinguish blurred lines.

"You and I both know that you don't need it," Eddie pats the space next to him as he sits down in the back of the van, leaned against the back of the drivers seat, "we'll just share mine."

You sit down next to him, trying to keep at least some space between him and yourself, but before you can fully process what is happening he has snaked an arm around your waist and you've ended up right next to him.

Eddie holds up the script in front of you, using both hands to try and keep it stable, the orange glow of the small camp fire doing it's best to illuminate the pages between you.

You couldn't be less focused, he is so close, he is everywhere. His arms around you once again, but so differently to just a few minutes ago.

Your eyes scan the script in front of you, slowly trying to untangle the notes he has left hapazardly in the margins with messy handwriting. You also spot more than one small drawing along the sides, covering up the first few words of text.

Yeah, it was definetively Eddie Munsons script you were looking at.

Reciting lines with him could quickly become a game, you'd imagine little people watching you as you bounced the ball back and fourth between you. That same rythmn you had found before returned, Chemistry X PERSON had called it.

You just chucked it up to Eddie being a really good scene partner. Which wasn't wrong.

You don't know for how long you sit there bouncing lines back and fourth between you, you've come to find that time spent with Eddie is rarely linear in the way you would normally expect it to be.

But you don't remember falling asleep, you remember mumbled words mentioning going home, and you don't remember when you wiggled even closer to him.

But you do remember waking up, still with Eddies arms wrapped around you, with the first rays of the morning sun peeking up over the horizon, and the final embers of the fire

And you barely remember the car ride home, struggling to keep your eyes open, Eddie in the drivers seat with his eyes fixated on the road.

And you remember what he said as he dropped you off.

"Hey," he says, making you turn around before shutting the car door, "you've kissed, and also slept with me, all in one night."

"I think you might be a bad influence," you say to him before laughing, it's all so ridiculous.

"I wouldn't want to be anything else," he winks before you hurridly close the door.

My loveliest mutuals: @uglypastels @catastrofhe @indouloureux @mypoisonedvine @luveline @hellfiremunsonn @babybluebex

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson stranger things

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kokomos · 10 months

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❂ 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟

jessica riley relationship headcanons

+ Always so excited when she gets to see you! Runs up to you and traps you in a bear hug before giving you sloppy kisses on your cheeks.

+ Hates being away from you for long periods of time. She's a bit of a clingy girlfriend meaning she wants a lot of your free time to be spent with one another. Whenever you two are apart she's planning the next time she can see you, she can't help but miss you!

+ Constant physical affection is a must if you're dating her. She loves the reassurance she gets when you touch her. Her favorite is when you wrap an arm around her waist to get real close to her. Adores having your face in the crook of her neck.

+ Definitely treats your lap like her own personal throne; enjoys the feelings of your hands holding onto her hips and thighs.

+ Kind of like a puppy in love; she's quick to blindly follow her heart and it hurts her more often than not.

+ Feels compelled to do anything in her power to make your life easier ie. do the chores she knows you dread.

+ Since before you two even officially started dating, she's given you so many nicknames in passing that you're sure she can't even keep track of the ones assigned to you. Her go-to is the casual babe or baby. She also wouldn't mind if you called her princess every now and again.

+ She's always asking you questions about yourself. It's important to her that the both of you are knowledgeable on the topic of each other. It's something that makes her feel more close to you than anyone else.

- "If you could do anything, like anything ever, for the rest of your life, what would you wanna do? By the way, you can say me, I wouldn't mind complying with that answer at all."

+ Quick with the comebacks. Be prepared to lose gracefully if you ever get into an argument with her because there's no way she's letting you win.

+ So playful with everyone but the most with you! She tries to live life somewhat lightheartedly believing that's what can bring her the most happiness.

+ Prefers to forgive and forget. Doesn't understand the whole idea of focusing so much energy onto someone in order to get revenge. If the opportunity presents itself that's another thing though!

+ She's an open book once she trusts you and it doesn't take a lot for her to put her trust in someone. Doesn't care about the risks involved with loving and losing someone, she sees it as a necessary part of life.

+ Big gossiper!! Constantly pulling you aside during an event to catch you up real quick on any updates with the drama. Please be enthusiastic/receptive while she's talking to you about this kind of stuff! She means no harm by it and stays positive about the people involved unless they've done something totally heinous.

- "I need to tell you what I just found out about that girl and her boyfriend. So last weekend, when she was visiting family out of town…"

+ Says she needs your help to do her braids but really she can do them by herself in under five minutes. She'll take any chance she can to feel your fingers in her hair.

+ On days where she's feeling lazy, she makes you do her whole make-up routine. No mercy, she doesn't care if you guys sit there for hours, it needs to be done and it needs to be done right. She shows her gratuity with a shower of compliments and calculated kisses as to not mess up all your hard work.

- "Oh my god, babe! You're so good at this, I should make you do my make-up every day. Kidding, don't worry."

+ Secretly insecure behind all that confidence. She can become pretty defensive in an argument with you, often lashing out because she feels threatened. What she really needs is reassurance that you're not attacking her, you just want resolution or to talk about the problem at its core.

+ Jess is the type of girlfriend that wants to be treated like a trophy wife… even without the ring.

— ♡☆

a/n: dedicated to the anon who requested :) i hope i did jess some justice!!

#jessica riley #jess riley #jessica riley x reader #jessica riley headcanons #jessica riley fluff #jessica riley imagine #jessica riley x you #until dawn #until dawn x reader #until dawn headcanons #until dawn imagine

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thequietkid-moonie · 11 months

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Sweet S/O gets a cruel punishment

[ ONE-SHOT ] [ Kokichi Ouma ] [ Danganronpa V3 Killing Harmony ]

⚠️ This contain a little bit of spoilers

This was requested by @sleepyone2three, thank you for requesting it!! The version of the other characters requested you can find it in the masterlist

I have a love-hate for Kokichi, I don't justify Kokichi's actions but I kinda understand him, and from my point of view at the end he was brave and super smart the little bastard. Also, this is my first time writing for him I hope you like it!! 💜

It could be pretty surprising to see someone like Kokichi, who likes to mess with everyone and always put jokes on others, with someone so sweet and patient, people may don't completely understand why you two are together but that doesn't matter, Kokichi loves you and you love him, that is the only thing that matters

Once you two get into the Saishu Academy and the killing game his attitude doesn't change much, however at the start he was a little more calm, still he finds this whole situation pretty interesting and exciting, or at least that was what he tell everyone, he find it interesting in a bad way, he doesn't trust the academy nor Monokuma at all and the posibility of you getting killed terrify him (but he doesn't tell you this)

Kokichi doesn't really trust in people and whenever he is atracted to someone normally is just because that person could be of use or bring him some fun, so for you two being a couple means that Kokichi deeply loves and trust you (not blindly but he does trust you), that is why he wants to win this killing game with you, you may don't like his idea but he doesn't like the idea of losing you, the only person he actually trust

Kokichi really appreciate and loves your patience, he can say a lot of little lies or put on you a lot of jokes and tricks and still you never get truly mad at him, he may annoy you sometimes but you still love him and you still are sweet to him. Under other conditions he will like to test your limits but inside of this killing game it wouldn't be a good idea if he wants to keep you by his side, in addition Kokichi grows more clingy and a little more serious and strict with you (it could seem like he is just joking or may he himself says that he isn't saying it seriously, but with you and only you he gets sincere and you can tell that his worries are true), he loves your sweet and calm personality but in a killing game that is just a disadvantage, you could be easily tricked by someone and end up killed, or worst, use you to kill someone else

Kokichi tried to warn you more than once to don't trust in anyone inside of the academy, anyone could be planning something against you or even use you, Kokichi doesn't trust in anyone there aside from you and he is trying to make you see that too, is his weird way of trying to protect you

However, no matter what Kokichi says or do that doesn't stop you from still trying to help the others, with your sweetness and patience you easily inspire the others and motivate them to work together, specially after what happened to Kaede

Kokichi has his own idea of how to end the game and he doesn't care what he has to do to fullfil his goal he is planning to do everything in his power to make the two of you survived and win this whole game

The killing game was stressful enough, the only situation made everyone nervous and somehow a little paranoid from time to time, adding Monokuma, the Monokubs and the incentives that they bring after every trial it makes things more difficult to endure, even when everyone wanted to end with the game the attitude of some of them doesn't help at all (Kokichi being one of them)

As patient as you can be everyone has a limit, between Monokuma and the Monokubs, Kokichi messing with everyone and you trying really hard for them to not attacking him was driving you crazy, and the situation just get worst when you add the investigations, the trials and losing more and more friends. Kokichi tries to remind you that you can't trust anyone, specially after the trials, and he isn't really good to bring you comfort and support in those moments, in other situation he would have less troubles with trying and show some vulnerability with you, giving you and craving for some comfort, but he can't just let himself do it right now, he has to be strong and keep his facade, Kokichi feels like that is the better way to survive but in his need of survive he forget about you in a more personal way

Everything started with an argument between you two, you wanted to make Kokichi see the things from your perspective, you wanted for him to stop messing with everyone and just try to find a way out of there, a way to end with the killing game with everyone else, into the other hand Kokichi just insisted on his own plan, he insisted that you shouldn't trust anyone in there and that he himself will end with the killing, even if he has to do it alone. The stress were making both stubborn, even it were making you lose your patient, however the problem comes with Kokichi, he was starting to feel desperate and stop thinking on what he was saying and just start to compare you to Kaede, remember what happen to her! she tried to help everyone and now she is gone! Do you really want to end up like her? You can't trust in anyone in here! Heck, you shouldn't even trust in him! He can easily being planning something against you too!

What Kokichi told you hurt, it hurt a lot, the discussion was escalating rapidly, it was just rising and rising in tone, even if you tried to cut him and go away it was too late because your argument bring the attention of the Monokubs, now under the lead of Monodam and he can't just let this happen, everyone is supposed to be friends and don't argument like this

It was just like an instinct for you to shield Kokichi, you were always like this, standing up for him when he gets into problems for messing with someone and trying to calm the other person, so this time you, once again, stand in front of Kokichi like hidding him and tried to reason with Monodam, you tried to tell him that everything was alright, you two are friends and get along really well he doesn't have anything to worry about, but Monodam heard your angry voice, and the hurtful words Kokichi had told you a moment ago it still hurts, as much as you tried to put an smile and look calm the sadness was all over your face and tears were close to fall from your eyes

Monodam obsesion for everyone being friends blind him from understanding that the situation was stressful, that in this kind of situation will be normal to break out just like how you two were just doing, he just take your obvious signs of sadness to say that you two weren't friends and he can't alow that, since now he took the control from Monokuma he has the power to punish the students, his plan was to just give the two of you a lesson, hopefuly after this you two will be friends, but human bodies are diferent from the bodies of his robots siblings and the hit were too hard for you to handle, and since you were shielding Kokichi you were the only one who recived the attack

To Kokichi was like it happened is slow motion, he isn't able to react until your body hit the floor, screaming in desesperation your name he runs to your side, with tears in his eyes he kneel by your side and check all over you, the hit was really hard, the exterior of your body maybe doesn't look too bad but the internal damage was the problem, there is no way to help you now (specially since no one in the academy has the profesional knowledge to do so), from this point there is nothing else to do than wait for your death

Even if Monodam understand what he have done Kokichi won't let him get near you again, not him, not the other Monokubs, not even the other students, he isn't going to let anyone get near you for a long time. On your last moments Kokichi can't do anything else than cry and beg you to please don't leave him, this whole time he just wanted to make sure that you two could get away from that stupid killing game and now, for his stupidity, he is going to lose you

When Kokichi finally start to calm down he quietly apologize to you and promise to end with the killing game for you, even if you weren't hearing him anymore

After Kokichi calms down he returns to his normal self, he isn't going to let anyone see how sad he is, how hurt he is nor how much he miss you or how much he blame himself for your death. However the others can intuit it since he doesn't let anyone talk about you, not even if is something good he imediatly gets irritated and scream at them, also he never tell anyone what happened, if they want to know how you died they will have to find out themself because he isn't going to tell them (nor Monodam, he is too ashame for what he had done)

After this Kokichi is more motivated and eager to end with this stupid killing game, he doesn't care what he has to do nor even if he has to put himself at risk, he is going to to finish this hell for you

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa x reader #kokichi ouma #kokichi ouma x reader #kokichi x reader #x reader #x gn reader #video games x reader

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mediocreanomaly · 4 months

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Amen. Priest!Wolfwood x Reader (NSFW)

**GN!Reader** Authors Note: I have an issue. Yes Priest!Wolfwood sparks joy, so please enjoy 4,539 of depravity as my welcome back, small note at the end!

**Content Warning: I grew up religious so I'm using real scripture here, if you're religious or that makes you uncomfy this might be a skip for you, if you're depraved like me read on**

Being raised Catholic was a one-way street to spoon fulls of guilt being shoved down your throat. Most everyone in the church was more or less aware of that fact, whether they acknowledged it or not.

However, there’s a warning they don't bother to put on the good book. A warning about the more...complicated relationship you develop with religion once the guilt that's swelled up in your chest has nowhere else to go.

"Then God said, 'Take your son to the land of Moriah and kill your son there as a sacrifice for me. This must be Isaac, your only son, the one you love. Use him as a burnt offering on one of the mountains there. I will tell you which mountain.” Church sometimes God ask things from us, things that seem...unimaginable, unbearable, but we are not lead blindly. No, quite the opposite, God-' " Father Wolfwood emphases by pointing to the rafters of the church as if the big man himself was sitting there, watching. "He has a plan, a plan so great and magnificent that we cannot begin to comprehend. With that understanding Abraham takes his son, because he trust, church, he trust God enough to follow-"

The sermon is drowned out. To anyone around you you'd look devout. Pious even with how well you focus on Father Wolfwood, but it's not the bible that makes you show up every Sunday. It's the dark black tousled hair that trails into stubble lining his cheek. It's those big brown eyes wide and confident as he preaches to the congregation. It's those hands, large and calloused, that make you wonder what life he must have lived before this as he moves them around with his speech. It's his skin, perfectly tan and forehead beading with sweat from the insufferable heat of the church, no doubt that cassock isn't helping. It's his voice, deep and raspy with that perfect cadence that makes you wonder what it'd be like if he said your name while bending you over-

"Y/n?" The altar boy who you didn't even realize had come to your pew ask. He's holding out communion in a way that tells you he's been there for a second.

"Oh! uh-" you reach out for the wine when a hand around your wrist stops you, you blink a few times and look up to see the man you were just ogling at meeting your gaze with dark eyes.

"Why don't you pass that out to the other pews, y/n is joining me for a special communion after church, they had something they wanted to pray on with me" Father Wolfwood says easily.

"I do?" the words fall from your mouth dumbly which causes Wolfwood to raise an eyebrow at you as if you're stupid. You let yourself swallow and bow your head as if scolded, you wonder what part of being a priest blessed him with so much sass.

"ah- right! yes I had forgotten, thank you Father Wolfwood" you correct. You had not, in fact, discussed anything of the sorts with the Father, but there was clearly something you were missing here.

He gives you a curt nod before softening his eyes and turning back to the young boy.

"Go on" he insist. He does, continuing to the next pew with all the confirmation he needed and Wolfwood finally let’s go of your wrist. The warmth of his hand that lingers isn't lost on you as you wearily glance up at him.

"Special communion?" You try hoping to gather a bit more information on the situation you'll be faced with after Mass.

"mhmm, God has called me to you. Something weighs on your mind, perhaps a repentance is in order?" his face gives away nothing, although you swear his eyes darken as he watches you with a pleasant smile that stays locked on his face.

Alarm bells ring in your head. Did...did he know? You had done your best to hide your less than innocent gaze as worship. Thinking back on it perhaps you were less conspicuous about it than you thought, that or God was the worst wing man ever.

"Father Wolfwood I-"

He holds up his hand to pause the word vomit that was about to stutter out and shakes his head.

"Later. Best to confess without prying eyes, no?"

He lets you simmer on that as he makes his way back to the front of the church. When he leads the church in prayer you do take it upon yourself to pray for once. You pray you'll sink into the floor or be struck dead before the end of the sermon.

By the time the church doors are opened, and people file out you're sure your heart will burst anyways. You stay seated in the front pew, not moving an inch because if you stand it'll be to bolt out the door and... well technically nothing was keeping you from it. It's not like the god damn (sorry God) preacher would shoot you if you attempted to run. He had simply suggested you confess. Easy. He probably hears peoples fucked up sexual fantasies all the time sitting in that booth. You knew the sheriff’s wife was sleeping with the banker and you knew the sheriff was sleeping with the widow down the street so it's not like the stuff that’s pulled from the great Catholics of No Mans Land weren't anything he hadn't heard before.

That's the thought you try and let comfort you as Father Wolfwood finishes up thanking people for coming to church and shaking hands.

The church doors shut with a thud that makes you jump in your seat; you press your hands together firmly and feel your fingernails dig into the skin there. This was fine.

"You know" Father Wolfwood folds his hands politely behind his back and takes agonizingly slow steps down the aisle "People with guilty conscious are more likely to be startled by loud noises."

You keep your head bowed slightly in what must look like a mock prayer, but you aren’t praying any more, you're just doing everything possible to not throw up on the churches nice red carpet, carpet that is interrupted when two black dress shows come into view.

"y/n?"

That voice. It makes you press you lips in a firm line scared of what filth might come out of it if you speak. Instead, to show you're listening, you slowly raise your head to meet Wolfwoods eyes, the likes of which seem clouded in some strong emotion. Were priest always this intense? Well, the easy answer was yes but this was a different type of intensity, not kind that filled revering words but one that more closely resembled a predator zoning in on its prey.

"Y/n" he says it again, albeit softer this time as if coaxing forward a scared animal. "You have something on your mind, don't you? Something that plagues you?"

You feel your fingers instinctively move to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. If the heat from the church before was unbearable before then this is downright swelting.

"Don't you usually do this kind of thing in the booth?" a poor attempt of a smile graces your lips in a desperate attempt to lighten whatever mood was staring to suffocate the air.

"Usually yes. This is a special case I believe though..." he leans down and your heart slams against your chest, his breath fans against your cheek. You can smell lingering cologne and... was that smoke? Surely not, if your local priest smoked it'd be the talk of the town, although now that you think about it those plush lips would look perfect balancing a cigarette between them, and they'd look even better if he used those teeth to-

"I almost forgot! You haven't received communion" He straightens out in an instant and claps his hands together nearly scaring you out of your skin while your face heats up from pure embarrassment.

You watch as he crosses from the pew to the table behind the pulpit and grabs a small cup of wine and bread. Just as quickly he's back in front of you with the objects. You reach out to accept them when he pulls his hands back.

"ah ah ah, I said this was a special communion didn't I? I'll deliver it unto you, you just sit and do as your told."

Oh. Yeah, that definitely didn't do anything to you. Nothing like a gruff handsome man in priest wear telling you to obey in the house of God. This was for sure not bubbling up any worrying realizations about yourself. Nope. Not in the slightest.

He steps back putting a little bit of room between the two of you before his eyes flicker from you to the carpet in front of him.

"Kneel."

You go instantly and willingly, a bit too willingly. Your mind flashes with Father Wolfwoods sermons about the disciples who kissed Jesus’ feet. You wonder if this was an elaborate way to get you to read the bible more because you're beginning to understand what was going through their minds now as you sit on your knees in front of the priest.

You aren’t sure if Wolfwood expected you to be so eager. He pauses for a moment before you swear a hint of a smirk plays at his lips. He raises the glass and the bit of bread slightly.

"Listen to me closely, we wouldn't want to spill and stain the carpet now, would we?" he ask.

You shake your head no. He makes a satisfied hum and continues.

"Tilt your head back.”

You do as your told, tilting your head back until your eye level is forced to be centered on the man in front of you.

"Open your mouth.”

Your mouth begins to salivate despite the fact there’s nothing in it yet. Perhaps it's due to the fact that what he's about to put in it isn't want you’d like to have resting on your tongue.

"Good. Why don't you stick your tongue out a little bit? I don't want you to dribble."

Fuck him. Fuck him so bad. There was no way he didn't know what he was doing but if had any hint about this sadistic game he was playing with you he gave no indication, he remained at stoic as ever as if you weren't having the most unholy thoughts imagine about your fucking priest.

There’s no going back though. You follow his instructions and let your tongue loll out of your mouth. You swear something flickers in his eyes, but it's gone as soon as it arrives.

He raises the glass and bread more as if offering it to God.

"Close your eyes.”

You do. You let the light of stained-glass windows be blotted out by your own blind obedience.

“Corpus Domini Nostri Iesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam....Amen."

You feel him press the small bit of bread onto your tongue, you close and eat. You don't need to be told before your opening your mouth again.

The wine follows right after, poured into your mouth and you swallow it down focusing on not letting any hit the ground with the speed at which the contents are emptied down your throat.

What realistically could not have been more than a few seconds feels as though it's lasted a lifetime. You take a deep breath once the bitter wine has settled in your stomach and before you can even think about getting up and excusing yourself from the church Wolfwood puts a hand on your shoulder, signaling for you to stay in place.

"Good. Why don't we get that confession out of the way then?"

Right. The reason he had probably pulled you aside for all of this in the first place. Had he seen through you? Seen how hungry your gaze had become? Probably. Looking back on it sitting in the front row was probably not the best idea when the entire reason for your Sunday visits was for potential fantasy fuel. There didn't seem like any reason to lie though, it's not like a priest could tell anyone about these things and outside of church Father Wolfwood was a bit of an anomaly to the town.

He didn't have any friends that you knew of, didn't gossip, or hang out at the bar, the man lived in this church which was making you feel a bit more guilty about your infatuation now that you thought of it but hey, if you weren't guilty about something then were you even a catholic?

"Forgive me Father I have sinned..."

With a grimace you realize why the damn confessions booths were so popular. Admitting this to God or a wooden wall was a little too easy. Admitting this to Wolfwood was like someone slowly peeling off your skin.

"I see, well, tell me child what is your confession?"

a swallow, then a leap.

"I have been...ah having inappropriate thoughts about someone. Someone who I go out of my way to see to add to these...fantasy's I have."

He listens closely and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head.

"I see...lust then?"

You nod in response, and he makes an affirming noise.

"And what do you imagine happening in these...fantasies of yours?"

The silence in the empty church is so loud it's deafening. Your hands scrunch and unscrunch the fabric of your pants.

"I...I imagine him pushing be down against these very pews Father. That one day as I'm standing up to leave mass, he'll shove me right back down and take me against the wood."

It's said strained but even you must admit maybe there’s something to this confession shit because you feel a bit lighter with it off your shoulders. Father Wolfwood looks less light. In fact, he looks you've just damned him to hell.

"Is that all?" he asks but it comes out breathier than he means it to.

The tone sends something to your core, oh you see it now. Lamb and shepherd your ass, you were still most certainly the lamb but the Father was no shepherd, he was the Wolf. Maybe God himself had put that divine foreshadowing into his name.

You shift on your knees and press yourself flatter trying to rub your thighs together. Wolfwoods eyes flicker down to the action then back up to your face, he opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

"No Father. Sometimes I imagine him taking me on the stand in front of the whole congregation. Still preaching while he finishes in me, holy words even in his most sinful act. But...do you know what I really want Father?"

Wolfwood swallows, his fingers trace along your face, and you fight every instinct to lean into it. He looks like this is paining him, He's all gritted teeth and square shoulders as he speaks.

"What do you want?"

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"I imagine he'd keep me here after church, that he'd have me kneel before him still while wearing his holy clothes, that collar, the rosary...and I wish he'd undo his belt to-"

"Enough."

Your mouth snaps shut scared you've pushed to far. You can feel heat bloom across your face in embarrassment now that your words are catching up to you, this was meant to be a confession not a shit porno, maybe you DID need God...

"You drive me insane you know that? Every day you come in here- the house of god mind you and stare at me like..." He clicks his tongue and motions to you.

"Well like that."

You aren't sure what to make of his tone, it's scolding and firm but hinges on needy at the end. You're starting to worry you broke the poor man before he makes an irritated noise.

"Fine. You want to repent so bad?" Wolfwoods hands go to his belt and with a soft clink of the metal it comes fastened. Your eyes flicker to look towards the door to make sure that no one was about to walk in on the scene that'd put Judas’ sin to shame when you're snapped out of your thoughts.

"Pay attention sweetheart, you were doing so good before, what happened?" The mask of a holy man cracks and gives way to something cockier, more taunting, more...Wolfwood.

"Unless you need scripture to keep your focus?" he works to undo the button and the zip of his dress pants as he tilts his head.

"Then here's something for you, 'the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” When Eve saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom..' "

He frees himself from the confines of his pants. You feel your mouth water and although your knees are starting to hurt from kneeling for so long you have a feeling you're about to get your real communion.

" '...and she opened her mouth, and took.' "

In beat with his preaching you let your mouth fall open. In all honesty, you get it now. You get how appealing that lush fruit must have been to Eve, you get why even after being promised paradise, she gave in to temptation. The weight that settles on your tongue as Wolfwood presses into your mouth makes your eyes roll back and an involuntary moan escape your throat. Wolfwoods breath stutters.

"God..." He groans and if your mouth wasn't currently full you might have made a witty comment about using the lords name in vain but a quick hand lacing through your hair from Wolfwood serves well enough to sever whatever thought had flitted through your mind.

You flatten your tongue and take more, allowing as much as you can to the back of your throat but when tears prick your eyes and you gag slightly on the sensation he pulls you off with a wet pop. You whine slightly at loss before Wolfwoods hand grabs your chin while he uses his thumb to wipe up the drool leaking from your lips that you hadn't realized was there.

"Patience, don’t you listen to a word I say up there?” he muses, you sheepishly look up at him through your eyelashes and it’s answer enough. He pulls you back in front of his cock, "Be good then, swallow every drop and I might forgive you"

You don't have much time to argue has his hand guides you back. You're more prepared this time, the way you sit on your knees...you’re a picture perfect saint and who's here to judge you for your sin anyways? Wolfwood? Sounded like a set up to a joke.

"Fuck, yeah baby just like that. So good-" His words break off with a grunt and his hips stutter forward, he pulls your head forward and your reach up to steady yourself with his thighs. He rocks his hips to your mouth as he face fucks you in the middle of the church. When his breathing speeds up and he mutters out a sting of gentle curses you know he’s close. You close your eyes and let him use you as he spills down your throat. You're desperate to show him you can listen, you swallow down as much as you can trying to not let a single drop of cum hit the floor.

When the rough handful of hair is released, you pull back to try and catch your breath, a worthless endeavor it would seem considering you're just as quickly being lifted up by your arm. You feel yourself being tugged up the steps towards the pulpit and make peace with the fact you're officially the worst Catholic ever...well besides the priest who's currently the instigator of this depravity.

"Not done yet sweetheart, the grace of god doesn't come with a blow job surprisingly" Wolfwood huffs amused as he presses down on your shoulder to force you to bend of the wood stand.

"Are you even a priest?" wrong question you guess because Wolfwood makes an irritated noise.

"Aren't you supposed to be repenting?" His hands grope at your thighs spreading them apart much more slowly than you'd like, as if he's savoring it...reverence you think.

"Father-"

He chuckles lowly at that.

"Father" he imitates "you let that name fall from your lips like it doesn't turn you on just to say it"

His fingers ghost over your thighs, then around the area you want him most before sliding up under your shirt to explore flesh. It's so hot in the church and when you peer out across the wooden pews you see the stain glass window casting rainbow light that sprawls out across the floor all the way up to your body.

"Focus on me" Wolfwood corrects your wandering mind by nipping along your neck and your body instinctively shudders against him. You press your hips back to feel his growing hardness pressed against your ass. His hands slide your shirt up over your head and he begins to focus on trailing kisses along your back.

"Thank you, lord," His lips move against your shoulder blade.

"For delivering this sinner unto me, so that I may show them rapture."

His fingers hook along the hem of your pants and tug them down your legs until they rest right at your knees.

"Despite that, I must confess, I have sinned."

His fingers trace along your entrance before slowly sinking in. You groan and press your head to the wood in front of you, fingers scratching against the surface.

"I have lusted for someone of my own congregation. I have imagined them kneeling for me and I worst of all I have imagined me taking them, devouring them until there is nothing left to fill them but me"

Another finger lazily joins the first and he begins a slow rhythm of pumping them in and out. You attempt to wiggle your hips back to chase the feeling, but his other hand keeps your waist flush against the stand.

"But I am only a man so with my mortal body I will show them euphoria"

You feel his fingers pull out and whine at the loss only to feel the blunt head of his own cock begin to line up with you.

"Amen"

Wolfwood doesn't give you much more warning before roughly pressing in. You moan as he sets a backbreaking pace, thankful that he at least prepped you before. He's leaned over your body; his hair tickles the back of your neck slightly as he pants in your ear. You imagine your own noises can't be much better as his left hand, the one he's apparently wrapped in a rosary, comes up to catch your chin, two fingers press into your mouth as he supports your head. His other hand stays at your hip, bringing your body back against his with every thrust.

It's so hot in the church, sweat beads along your body and you can feel your hair beginning to stick to your forehead. Your mind feels foggy and you lap absent mindedly at the fingers invading your mouth. Wolfwood groans and pushes you down further against the stand and it'd be uncomfortable if you could focus on anything other than the priest fucking your brains out. He produces an ungodly amount of precum, you can feel it making a mess between your thighs right as drool begins to leak from the corners of your mouth and bead down to the wood below.

Wolfwoods hand shifts from your hip to where a blooming warmth has begun. You nearly cry out with relief babbling nonsense around his fingers, hell maybe even a few prayers. His own mouth is becoming less of that of a reverend and more of that of a ravenous man, mouthing and biting at what he can reach. The fingers press deeper into your mouth and your feel the smooth beads of the rosary are you toy with them with your tongue. You're close, you tremble beneath Wolfwood and he catches on because both his hands pull away to once again fit along your hips. You nearly sob from the new lack of stimulation as he rocks into you.

"Beg for it" Wolfwood says so firm you'd have sworn he was once again leading congregation. Your mind is half way to mush right now so it doesn't take much convincing to do what he wants.

"Please please please let me, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I repent" you babble out hoping you’ve said the magic words.

His hand comes down firmly on your ass as he thrust into you then finally finally reaches to touch between your thighs.

It sends you over the edge instantly, your legs trembling as you whine and moan, Wolfwoods own obscene noises match your own as he finishes inside you, letting you milk him for all he's worth.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, you become aware of the fact your priest is pressed up against your back, trying to catch his breath from fucking the ever loving daylights out of you. You whine slightly and Wolfwood responds by nuzzling his face against your neck.

"Are you okay?"

You do actually laugh at that one, letting your forehead rest against the podium.

"The priest I've been fantasizing about fucking me for a year now just has. This has been the best lay of my life and you want to ask if I'm okay?"

"You're awfully vulgar aren't you?"

You snap your head up to make several points about irony of the statement but when you turn you see a shit eating grin on his face. Your playfully hit his chest and groan.

"You've got to be the worst priest ever"

"Can't say I'd deny that claim" He leans forward and kisses you, you go into it easily but the taste of his lips remind you of something, when you pull away you raise an eyebrow

"Do you smoke?"

He shrugs and keeps his hands on your waist.

"I prefer to keep certain things in my life separated from the church"

"and me?"

"Consider yourself a special case." He smirks and takes hold of your chin between his fingers "Although I do hope this was enough to keep you coming to my sermons?" he ask

You swallow at the dark look in his eye and place your hands on his chest.

"and miss the holy word? Perish the thought"

He chuckles lowly at that as your hands begin to play with the collar of the cassock he wears.

"Although Father, I fear I may not have properly confessed."

He raises an eyebrow and eyes you "No?"

You shake your head "See I only...repented for two out of three fantasy’s I had also mentioned being taken against the pews"

Wolfwoods hands tighten around his hips and his smile widens.

"Well...let's fix that, shall we?"

Author's note: ahhhh I'm back! I've been storin this little beauty away for awhile now. This is my welcome back post because I feel like I lost the way I wanted to organize and write for a little while and this was the first piece that got me back in the flow of things. I missed you guys! We're back baby! (I'll add my spacers in later I'm missin the files rn and I don't feel like searching for them)

#trigun x reader #trigun x you #wolfwood x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood #wolfwood x you #priest!wolfwood

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