#i may have a repeat or two in here. oh well

[brabblesblog]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Chapter 17: Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Astarion begins to unravel the mystery of Ban's family.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Masterlist

Art by @nyx-knox <3

Astarion sat with his legs crossed. The stool was as filthy as when he’d last seen it, but he’d accepted it this time, if only to accentuate the desired effect. In front of him Roderich dithered, trying to explain away his actions - not that Astarion cared. He forced his attention back onto the man, as unpleasant as it was, and leaned forward.

“It was a desperate time. There wasn’t enough money to fund our… our way of living, and the guild is rich. Far richer than it had any right to be,” Roderich stammered. “Meiros must have taken some too! I’m sure he skimmed some off the top as well, considering there was no one to look into his activities. He’s just as guilty, his hands just as bloody. I don’t see why you would even begrudge me this!”

None of this stayed in Astarion’s mind. He had considered the information irrelevant. “Repeat the last thing you said,” he drawled. “Your bleating proved too much for me.”

Roderich clenched his jaw, looking out the store windows. The moment Astarion had walked in and demanded an audience he had sent his customers away, telling them to come back in half an hour. They were outside, waiting, and the minutes were ticking by. “I just think… this conversation should be held somewhere else, if at all.”

If at all. If nothing else, he could admire Roderich’s nerve. He lazily looked over to the small group of people waiting outside. Behind them his carriage loomed, black and gold and waiting to whisk him away from this drivel.

“Oh, but I haven’t yet touched on why we’re having this conversation.” He crossed his arms. “Did you really think I would care about you stealing guild funds?”

“I suspected you wanted to punish me for… for whatever imagined slights you think we committed against our daughter.” He took a deep breath. “We’ve done nothing of the sort. She may have been unhappy, but everything we did was for her wellbeing - her success.”

“Your success,” Astarion corrected. “I daresay I’ll be the judge of whether wrongdoings were committed or not - and they have,” he glared, “but that isn’t why I’m here. Nor is it why I’m bringing up your financial indiscretions.”

Astarion looked at Roderich, relishing the way the older man looked at him - equal parts fear and indignation. He could feel Roderich’s anger bubbling, his wariness keeping him from allowing it to boil over. Any other man would have assumed Astarion couldn’t do much in public, with the crowd peering at them as it was. But Roderich knew that if he pushed him too far, he’d find himself waking up to fangs sinking into his neck.

So Astarion waited for Roderich to master his temper, idly looking past him to the display of mirrors. He was reflected in all of them, from various angles, and he couldn’t resist admiring himself a little. From the corner of his eye he saw two of the patrons outside fanning themselves and rolled his eyes.

Finally Roderich found his voice. “Then what was this visit for?”

Astarion smiled and returned his attention to Roderich. “A matter near and dear to Ban’s heart, and therefore mine. Your son.”

Roderich spluttered. “Adrien? We already told you-”

“And we are painfully aware you’re lying.” He gazed at Roderich’s reflection, eyes boring into him. “Don’t make it difficult, Roderich. We can have a nice, civil conversation,” he thought about it, “or I’ll have to resort to less… pleasant measures.”

Roderich sighed. “I… of course. I would at least prefer to talk in private. Perhaps in my home.”

“Fine. I can’t keep the good citizens desperately wanting mirrors waiting, can I?” There was also the fact he figured having Arlette around for this conversation might be better - if only so that he could have all possible information at hand. That, and watching the people peering at him through the glass was starting to grate.

“Thank you,” Roderich breathed. “After the day is done, head there. I can have Arlette prepare supper, and you could bring Ban.”

Astarion stood. Roderich tracked every move he made, but didn’t speak. Astarion stepped closer, enough so that he could look down at him. “Just me, unfortunately. My wife has far more important business to attend to. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

The raised eyebrow made Roderich shrink back, to Astarion’s satisfaction. The man rubbed at his bald head. “Why of course. We’d be more than happy to host you.”

A wide smile graced Astarion’s face, the tips of fangs peeking out. “I’m glad to know that. Provide my chauffeur with your address, and I shall be there tonight.”

The house was large, situated against the walls of the upper city, although just like the shop it showed signs of neglect. As he approached, the door opened before he could even rap his knuckles against it. Arlette’s pale face greeted him and this time her eyes did not rake over his features. As he stepped into the house she looked at his feet and cleared her throat.

“Erm. Your shoes, if you would be so kind.”

He fixed her with a pointed look and stepped forward anyway. The request reminded him of Ban, but he brushed the thought aside. She had stayed home, knowing he was handling the issue with her family. Seeing them again would not do her any favors.

Arlette hurried alongside him, walking fast to keep up with his longer strides. As he walked he took in the house. Ban had lived here most of her life. He allowed his mind to wander a little, musing. Where would she have sat? Had her room been neat? Had she owned dolls? Read books? Had she dreamed of adventures, or being swept off her feet by a dashing prince?

His thoughts were interrupted by Arlette. “I hope you don’t mind. We weren’t sure what you’d prefer to… eat, but we assumed some soup and roast would be-”

Astarion held up a hand. “I prefer we skip the niceties and get to the matter at hand. Where - or rather,” he scanned the house - what he could see of it anyway - finding no sign of a third person, “when am I ever to see this son of yours?”

He had surmised that he wouldn’t see Adrien in his brief conversation with Roderich earlier today. The man had said that he would explain everything, whatever that meant, as he’d hurried Astarion out the door.

As he turned the corner and entered the dining room he saw Roderich sitting at the head of the table, waiting. Roderich stood as Astarion walked in, obviously tense. “There was no need for all that unpleasantness earlier today. We would have told you, had we known what you wanted.”

Astarion sat on the opposite end of the table, steepling his fingers and settling in. He could almost taste their discomfort, and it was gratifying. “We provided you the chance to disclose everything civilly, remember? You chose to lie and be difficult.”

Roderich bristled, but Arlette put a hand on his shoulder. “You could have us removed from the guild, but the coin… it doesn’t exist anymore. It’s gone.” Her eyes locked onto his steepled fingers. “You’ve gotten married.”

“Hm?” He raised his hand for them to see. “Indeed we have. I won’t apologize for the lack of invitation. We wanted only those important to us in attendance.”

He savored the affronted looks from the couple, daring them to voice their complaints. When none came, his thoughts drifted back to the misappropriated guild funds.

He wasn’t surprised. Meiros had mentioned that the Glasscrafts were used to a life of relative luxury; the loss of customers and their retreat from active networking would have put a dent in that. Their theft from the Guild coffers had been discovered a few years ago but Meiros had deemed it unnecessary to take action at the time. Apparently, the amount of coin had not been significant, and he’d felt some pity for Roderich after the disappearance of his daughter was made known. In any case, Astarion was glad; it provided him ample ammunition to leverage the Glasscrafts with, if needed.

Astarion reached for the carafe, pouring himself a glassful of what looked like wine. He sniffed it, ascertaining it to be so, and took a small sip. It felt safe, at least.

“Whether the money is gone or not, all I have to do is to ask. Meiros will act at my behest.” He locked gazes with Roderich, allowing the silence to stretch. He lounged back, waiting.

Roderich broke, clasping his hands together. His eyes were downcast, fixed on his own hands. “After Ban left us, the… arrangement we had with her betrothed’s family fell apart. We needed to find another suitable arrangement, and so we quickly found an associate with a daughter around Adrien’s age.”

“He was displeased, just like she had been, and one night-” Arlette began, but Astarion held up a hand.

He laughed. “You drove both children off the same way? How very ironic. You’d think you’d have learned your lesson the first time, but no - you had to push the other away too!” The savage glee he felt definitely raised Arlette’s hackles - he saw her eye the fireplace poker.

“Oh. I wouldn’t even attempt that, Arlette.” He waved a hand at her. “Or you could try your luck, I suppose. I wouldn’t mind livelier fare tonight.” He gave her a quick grin, baring his fangs, and was satisfied when she backed down.

“A wise choice.” He curled his lip. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? ‘My son left, same as my daughter did, because I was an abusive ass’,” He copied Arlette’s cadence, the smile only widening as she seethed. His eyes then returned to Roderich. “Now. I’m assuming you know where your son went?”

He knew the answer was likely not. Ban had, after all, stayed in the lower city for several years, within the same city, and her parents had never bothered to seek her out. He surmised they were the type who would not deign to head into the lower city unless absolutely necessary.

Roderich sighed. “We asked everyone we could ask. All we know is that the night he left…” he glanced over at his wife; Arlette finally sat down beside him, glaring at Astarion.

“Contrary to your assumptions, my lord, Adrien’s departure was not like Ban’s.” She sneered, or her best approximation of one, anyway; her fear of him prevented her from managing true disdain. “He did not take anything with him. No clothes, no extra coin. No materials other than what he’d usually bring on a night out.”

“We had an argument,” Roderich interjected. “The usual one, about him wanting his… freedom,” he scoffed, “to choose his spouse, and how the girl we’d betrothed him to was a spoiled, overgrown child.”

“And ugly, to boot.” Arlette shrugged. “He wasn’t wrong, but really.”

“So he left to cool off. Not an unusual occurrence, except he didn’t return. We assumed he’d found someone to keep him company for the night, and would return on the morrow, but… he never did.”

The hardness in Arlette’s features disappeared for once. “We waited. Days, weeks, months. We asked folks that we knew. No one knew where he’d gone, nor had they seen him. It was as if he’d disappeared into thin air. There were whispers we heard then, rumors.”

To Astarion’s surprise, Roderich pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’re Szarr’s heir, are you not? You would know better than most. The stories of folk disappearing, of debauched parties in the night. You would know.”

His pique rose. “And you know someone who’s disappeared, beside your own children? Both of whom ran away of their own free will?” Astarion challenged. They’d been specifically forbidden from hunting in the upper city. Cazador had preferred victims from the lower classes, and rightfully so. Nobody ever went looking for them, not for long anyway.

Roderich looked away. “Well… no.”

“What does it matter? Whatever those rumors were alluding to - they’re obviously true!” Arlette stood and rounded on him, hands on the table. “Look at you. Look at what you made our child into.”

Astarion refused to allow their words to slip under his skin. Her anger was meaningless. All the same, he couldn’t resist baring his fangs at her. “I’d be careful pointing fingers, Arlette. Your daughter left too, and she didn’t end up as food for… monsters, did she?”

“Well, she became one herself!”

He laughed, the sound theatrical and dangerous. He stood as well. “Considering that she was raised by a pair of them, I doubt she found it much of a leap.”

Arlette screamed in frustration, scrabbling for the knife on the table. Astarion watched, amused, as Roderich slammed his hand down on her wrist, preventing her from aiming it at him.

“Let her go. Let her try, if she chooses to.” Astarion crossed his arms.

Roderich shot his wife a warning glare, then slowly lifted his hand away. She stood there for a second, chest heaving, hand clenched around the knife. Astarion merely stared indifferently.

Finally she cursed, letting go of the knife. “I would say I hope the gods curse you, but… I think you’re already there,” she spat.

He took it in stride. “Rude of you, really, when I’m here to find your son. Not to return him to you, of course, but I would have at least informed you when I found out if he was safe, something you two have obviously failed to determine.”

Roderich’s eyes bulged. “You dare-”

“Yes. I dare.” He picked up his glass and refilled it with painful, deliberate slowness, dragging the moment out. “I assume you asked people you knew, not people Adrien knew.”

“He didn’t have a lot of friends. He kept to himself.”

“Perhaps he did not prefer the company you made him keep?”

The two did not respond. Astarion swirled the wine lazily. “Tch. Your investigation was incomplete. If you employed the same methods you did when Ban first left, then you certainly haven’t even scoured this city, let alone further.”

Roderich gulped. “We… did not look for her.”

Astarion blinked. He balled his fists, and the urge to snap their necks was almost irresistible. “You… did not look for Ban, but looked for Adrien.” He said it slowly, enunciating each word, voice dripping with venom.

“She left with most of her belongings. And, well… Adrien was still there…” Arlette stammered, shrinking back as Astarion began to stalk towards them.

“Of course. Your beloved son was there, so what did her departure cost? Nothing.” He drew closer, eyes narrowed into slits. “Why would one failed arrangement matter, when you had the more valuable piece still in play, hm?”

He raised his eyebrow as Arlette finally grabbed the knife and lunged for him. Too slow, of course, but he admired her verve. Roderich reached for her, but Astarion was faster, catching her wrist effortlessly. He pulled her close, hissing against her ear.

“I would relish the opportunity to rip you apart, and then tear your husband into pieces,” he whispered. “But I doubt Ban would be pleased to find out that I’ve eviscerated her parents without asking her first. Consider this, however, your final warning. One more false move,” he pried the knife from her hands and set it down on the table, “and I will accept her ire and act in… well, let’s say self-defense.” He let her go, and she sank back onto her chair, her husband standing protectively behind her. He eyed Roderich.

“Any complaints?” He didn’t respond, and Astarion smirked. “I thought so.”

He leaned against the table, making a show of looking at his nails. “So. You did not bother to search for Ban, but did so for Adrien. Despicable, but unsurprising from you lot.” He raked his eyes over the pair. As much as he wanted to rip into them, there was the far more urgent need of actually finding out where Ban’s brother was. “When you say you searched for Adrien… who exactly did you talk to?”

“Like you said,” Arlette said, her voice small. “We asked the people we knew. The rumors about Cazador Szarr became the only lead we had. And it was just… that. Whispers. Someone knew someone who knew someone, who’d heard stories.”

Astarion shrugged. “No doubt it was easier to believe a monster had taken your son than to think the ones in his own home had pushed him away.” He glanced at them, daring them to try contesting his words. When no dissent came, he returned his attention to his fingernails.

“I shall be conducting my own investigation. If I find Adrien…” he considered this for a moment, “and he does not want to be found, I shall tell you of his survival at the very least, if you two cooperate with my search and never come close to either of them, ever again.”

“But-”

“It’s that, or I seek out Adrien on my own and you never learn what I discover. I’ll also request Meiros to very kindly look into the missing funds from the guild treasury. And were you to breathe a single word of what Ban and I are, well. I never refuse a free meal.”

The two exchanged a long glance, and then finally nodded. Satisfied, Astarion straightened up. “Are we agreed, then?” Slowly, they nodded again.

Astarion sat back down. “If you could provide more details - how Adrien looked, what he was wearing, the date of his disappearance, any other details you would deem pertinent - that would be delightful.”

“We last saw him four years ago, a year after Ban left. He was twenty-one then,” Roderich provided.

Four years younger than Ban, Astarion noted. “And the day?”

“Thirteenth, of Alturiak. It was a chilly, rainy night.”

This, he also noted. “Was he dressed appropriately?” If not, Adrien could not have gone far without purchasing a cloak.

“He was, to a point,” Arelette offered. “He was wearing the jacket I’d made him. It did not have a hood.”

Astarion sighed. That widened his circle somewhat, and reduced his chances. He had hoped to encounter a vendor who might have sold him clothes. He took a long look at the couple.

Arlette walked away, quickly leaving the dining room. He could hear her rummaging around and she came back with a locket. To his surprise she pressed it onto his palms.

“This is a portrait of Adrien. We stowed all the family portraits away when he disappeared. It was… too painful… to look at the mantelpiece and see his face. But this should help.”

He opened it to reveal a young man. There was a small tug of familiarity, and little wonder. He had strikingly dark eyes - Ban’s eyes. Raven-black hair, the same golden skin, the same half-smile. He could be her twin, he thought as he closed the locket.

Along with the locket was a cufflink. It looked expensive, jewel-encrusted, and he held it to the light.

“His favorite cufflinks. We never found the other.” Roderich nodded at it. “We assume he had it that night.”

Astarion pocketed both items and stood. “I shall write to you if there are any developments. If anything comes up, I shall expect the same courtesy. You do remember where to write, yes?”

“The Crimson Palace,” Roderich said, and Astarion smirked. He’d never forgiven the man for not knowing that the first time they’d met.

“Perfect.” He reached over and downed his glass. “Thank you for the dinner. It was most… enlightening.”

He gave them a small, sardonic bow, and headed for the door.

Astarion fingered the clasp of the locket as the carriage made for the palace, flicking it open with one hand. He stared at the face looking back at him, frowning. The other half of the locket had a piece of paper in it instead of a portrait, one seemingly folded in half. He reached in, pulling it out. The paper was thick; he unfolded it carefully.

The content of the paper was not what he expected, and not anything useful, but he was glad he’d opened it all the same. Ban, from years ago, her face less lined, a little fuller and far softer than she looked now. She was illuminated in what looked like a sunset; the golden light highlighting the side of her face that it hit. Her hair wasn’t tied back in her usual ponytail, or even the bun she occasionally preferred - it fell in loose, long waves, framing her face. He’d seen her with her hair down of course, but almost never in public.

He ran his finger down the side of her face, then traced those lips he’d come to know so intimately. His thoughts drifted back to her, of her youth spent in that house and in that shop. He couldn’t recall his own past - two centuries of torment had ensured it was all but gone - but he did not envy Ban hers. Astarion closed the locket, but kept her portrait for himself, pocketing it.

As the carriage drew to a stop and he stepped out, he spied her in the foyer, waiting. The sight never failed to make his heart swell, and he made a beeline for her.

“Home at last,” she said, as he drew close for a quick kiss. “I trust everything went well?”

“Mm… well enough.” He had no intention of informing her of anything until everything was laid bare, as they had agreed upon. “Some progress has been made, I would say, but nothing concrete as yet. You’ll have to wait a little longer.” He’d told her where he’d been headed, but had not informed her of any pertinent details.

She led him to the dining room, not bothering to turn towards him as she spoke. “It’s not a huge pain. I’ve… not even thought of them in so long. I can stand to wait a little longer to see how Adrien’s doing.”

He helped her into her seat before seating himself. Taking a bite from her fork, she eyed him. “Were your dealings with Meiros at least helpful?” Whatever their arrangement was, she hoped it had been useful.

“Yes… and no,” Astarion admitted. “I would have achieved the same effect without it, but it would probably have taken more… convincing. I would not have minded doing that, but you might have.”

Ban scoffed. “As prideful as they are, they’re cowards. They’re frightened of you - of… of us now, I suppose. I have little doubt they’d immediately cave.”

He laughed, remembering today’s encounter. “You’d be surprised. Your mother may or may not have attempted to kill me.”

“She wouldn’t.” Her eyes widened at the look on Astarion’s face. “You… you’re serious. Really?”

“With a knife, which I’m sure would have done the job, given enough time.” He began to eat. “I can see where you inherited your… spirit.”

“You mean to say my temper.”

He bit back a mirthful bark. “Your words, darling, not mine.”

There was silence for a while as they both ate. Astarion’s eyes flicked over to her, unconsciously comparing her face with the portrait that was now in his pocket. He burned with a desire to ask her for more, but wasn’t quite sure how to broach it.

Her eyes drifted away from Halsin’s wedding gift on the mantelpiece - a dragon sitting on its haunches - and noticed his staring. She tilted her head. “Something on my face?”

He shook his head. “Is there a reason why you wear your hair the way you do now?” He fingered the paper inside his pocket, then took it out, handing it to her.

She unfolded it, silent as she took in the portrait. “Mother preferred my hair down. Said it would hide the… features of my face. One of the few things she and I did not disagree on.”

Astarion considered this. He ran his eyes down her current - and now permanent - physique, mulling over the potential implications. She handed the portrait back to him and returned to her meal; he quickly stored it. He was sure he’d ask about it some other time, but for now, he was content with what she had revealed.

They were walking in the garden after dinner when he broached the topic. “Darling… was your mother the first person to tell you you aren’t… attractive?”

She paused and turned to look at him, half bent over to look at a particularly large rose. “What makes you think that?”

“Your comment about your hair. The way you always glance at the prettiest woman in any room, then down at yourself. The clothing choices - cloaks, capes.” He ticked these off with his fingers. “Even your hair. Held up now, yes, no longer quite hiding - but still plain. As if you feel like any adornment other than your braids would be a waste.”

“Well.” She took a deep breath, then plucked the flower. “Having my hair up became a habit after I ran away. Came with the job, really. Fighting with it loose would be unwise.” She straightened up, smelling the rose.

“And everything else?”

She chuckled. “Everything else you got spot-on.” She fell into stride beside him, tucking the flower by her ear.

“You are perfect, and your mother is a wretched woman whose opinions have no real merit, other than in her own miserable mind. You’d do well to realize none of her comments had any worth.”

Ban raised both arms, flexing them at him. “This isn’t what you’d normally see on a beautiful woman, Astarion. Not what most men would want, even.”

“Yet you chose that,” he noted. “Perhaps you wanted to be strong, truly strong, unlike what your mother wanted you to be.”

“She wanted me strong, but not in this way, that’s true. This I chose for myself.” She put her hands down, then ran her hand down the swell of a tricep. “I wanted it, yes, but I’m also aware this isn’t-”

“And why should we bother with the opinions of fools and miscreants who would not know how to tell a gem from a rock?”

“Because… I mean, Astarion. Let’s face it.” She took both of his hands, and he fixed his gaze on her. “Look at me. Then look at yourself. Tell me you don’t see what they see. You even said it yourself - they see me as a trivial matter in their path to you, right? Because I look the way I do.”

“Then they can shove their frankly insipid, dull ideas of attractiveness,” he snarled, “far, far up their own asses. And if they dared to breathe a word of it to you, or me… well.” A smile broke through her dismay, exactly as he’d hoped, and he led her to the fountain. He slipped behind her as they both admired it.

“You are beautiful to me,” he murmured, “and considering I am looked upon as world-endingly beautiful myself, that ought to mean something, shouldn’t it?” He leaned in, the humor slipping away. “Trust me.”

Those familiar words sent a shiver down her spine. Trust. Something she had given so freely before, and something she had been giving again recently, even though there were times that it still felt hard. It would be work, she knew - she’d need time to do better, just as he had - but she hoped she was at least making some headway. Her mind wandered, away from thoughts of her appearance to hoping this conversation was at least a sign of progress in his eyes.

“Ban?” Astarion paused from the path his lips had been making down her shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

Ban turned to focus on his face. She could see the fear beginning to creep in his eyes, and she quickly kissed him. He visibly eased, exhaling.

“I- I thought for a moment…”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” She kissed his jaw, then his cheek, running a comforting hand through his hair. He leaned into the touch, eyes shuttering. She fought the instinct to just leave it at that, and pushed on. “Can you tell me, love, if all this… everything I’ve been trying to do... Has it been working?”

“Your hair could stand to be decorated sometimes.” One look at her withering glare and he shifted gears. “Er - the wedding arrangements were more than sufficient,” he said automatically, “and I think everyone went home satisfied. Well, perhaps not Minsc, but-”

“Astarion,” she said, a note of urgency in her tone. “Quit deflecting. You know what I mean. Fixing… this. Us. Being better for you.” Somehow these words felt harder to say than even her wedding vows, and she tamped down the voice inside her that told her that this was unnecessary talk.

“Yes.” He met her gaze, uncertain, but unafraid. The irony was not lost on her. “I suppose the wedding and the whole…” he waved a hand, “...game, occupied most of our time recently, but, yes.” His eyes darted across her face, and he bit his lip. “I see more of you. Feel more of you.” As soon as he said it his eyes flicked away, and she caught it.

“Please?” she asked, and he exhaled.

“I would be lying if I said everything is perfect.” He braced himself, then met her gaze head-on. “It’s far too soon to tell for certain, and we’re both aware that wedding planning wasn’t the most… normal of times.”

“I understand.” She leaned forward and rested her head against his collarbone. “But I promise you. I will be who you want me to be… maybe not the hair, though.”

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her. “I will adore you regardless of who you are and what you choose to look like, Ban. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Astarion awoke from his trance just as the sun began to shine, its rays slipping in through a gap in the drapes. He stood up to close them, not wanting Ban to stir. Before he pulled them shut he stood, watching the light touch the wrought-iron fence that enclosed the palace grounds.

He’d have to begin his search somewhere, and it was likely that he would get no answers in the upper city, but he planned on sending some of his staff to ask around just in case. He would handle the lower city himself, figuring that would yield more results, considering Roderich hadn’t explored that option. It likely hadn’t even occurred to him until last night, the idiot.

The question, however, remained. What would happen once they found Adrien? The relationship between the siblings didn’t seem exactly… warm. His eyes wandered over to Ban’s sleeping form, worry creasing his brow.

What if her brother rejected her for what she’d become? For what they had done? There was no need for him to know, but he wasn’t sure if Ban would tell him everything - including the circumstances of the rite. Save for their companions, no one else knew of the price that had been paid. To everyone else, he was a regular noble. To the people he had met on their journey who knew what he was, he had merely found some means of being able to withstand the sun.

Well, other than the Society. They had quickly inferred that it had been a contract of sorts, no thanks to Omeluum. They had kindly kept the information confidential, but he was still irked at the thought that they knew at all. Ban had suggested keeping them close, to foster goodwill, which they had done.

He brushed away the unpleasant path his thoughts had taken. He needed to focus on the matter at hand. Sending out feelers in the upper city, and venturing into the lower city. Ban may know the names of some of Adrien’s associates, the ones their parents hadn’t approved of.

He merely hoped all this would lead to her finding some closure.

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[skywalker1dream]

Title: Northern Lights

note: something nice for our boy mika, hope you like it, i hope you are having good day or night,drink water and eat healthy

Mika Häkkinen x reader

@augustina-silver-mountain-s-blog

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The chill of the Scandinavian night was a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from the fireplace in the cozy log cabin. You sat by the window, wrapped in a thick blanket, watching the snowflakes dance through the air. The tranquility of the Finnish wilderness had a soothing effect on you, a perfect retreat from the hustle and bustle of daily life.

A familiar sound broke the silence: the low hum of an engine approaching. You stood up, your heart fluttering with anticipation. Mika had promised to be back by evening, and the sight of his car pulling up the driveway filled you with joy.

Moments later, the door creaked open, and there he was, Mika Häkkinen, two-time Formula 1 World Champion, and the love of your life. His smile was enough to chase away the winter cold as he stepped inside, shaking off the snow from his boots.

"Sorry, I'm late," he said, his voice deep and warm. "The roads were a bit tricky."

You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "As long as you're here now," you whispered, leaning in for a kiss. His lips were cold from the outside, but they quickly warmed against yours, the familiar taste of him grounding you.

Mika shrugged off his coat and hung it by the door. "How was your day?" he asked, taking your hand and leading you back to the living room.

"Peaceful," you replied, snuggling back into the blanket as he settled beside you. "I was just enjoying the view, waiting for you."

He chuckled softly, pulling you closer. "Well, I have a surprise for you," he said, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

Your curiosity piqued. "Oh? What kind of surprise?"

Mika reached into his bag and pulled out a small wrapped box. "It's nothing too fancy, but I saw it and thought of you."

You took the box, your fingers trembling slightly as you unwrapped it. Inside was a delicate silver necklace with a pendant shaped like a snowflake, adorned with a small, sparkling diamond in the center. It was beautiful.

"Oh, Mika," you breathed, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "It's perfect."

"I'm glad you like it," he said, taking the necklace from your hands. "May I?"

You turned around, lifting your hair to give him access to your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin as he fastened the clasp, sending shivers down your spine. Once it was in place, you turned back to face him, his eyes reflecting the firelight as he admired the pendant resting against your collarbone.

"It's beautiful," you repeated, touching the snowflake gently. "Thank you."

He smiled, pulling you into his arms. "Anything for you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. The warmth of Mika's embrace and the gentle glow of the fire made you feel content, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

After a while, Mika stood up, extending his hand to you. "Come with me," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

You took his hand, letting him lead you outside. The night air was crisp and cold, but the sky was clear, stars twinkling brightly overhead. Mika led you to a clearing just beyond the cabin, where a blanket had been spread out on the snow, surrounded by lanterns.

You gasped, looking up at him. "Mika, this is... incredible."

"I wanted to share something special with you," he said, sitting down on the blanket and pulling you into his lap. "Look up."

You tilted your head back, and there they were...the Northern Lights, dancing across the sky in vibrant shades of green, pink, and purple. It was a breathtaking sight, one that left you speechless.

Mika's arms tightened around you as he whispered in your ear, "I wanted us to have this moment together. Something magical."

Tears filled your eyes as you leaned back against him, overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. "It's perfect," you said softly. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

He kissed your temple, his breath warm against your skin. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

You turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his. "I love you too, Mika," you replied, sealing your words with a kiss.

As the Northern Lights danced above you, you knew that this moment would stay with you forever, a perfect memory of love, light, and the man who made your heart race both on and off the track.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #mika hakkinen #mika hakkinen x reader #mika hakkinen x female reader

[wrightfamily]

happy belated aa4-6 trilogy port

#ace attorney #long post #trucy wright #ema skye #apollo justice #phoenix wright #klavier gavin #vera misham #daryan crescend #aa text post #i may have a repeat or two in here. oh well #also hi emily

[pucksandpower]

Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #toto wolff #max verstappen #toto wolff imagine #max verstappen imagine #toto wolff x reader #max verstappen x reader #toto wolff fic #max verstappen fic #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #toto wolff blurb #max verstappen blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #hozier

[hiraya-rawr]

— oh and by the way im married (zhongli) .

synopsis !! zhongli neglects to inform his friends that he's married.

contains !! they/them reader but referred to as wife, comedic dialogue

Z H O N G L I

Perhaps it's the fact that you've been married for centuries that informing others didn't seem to be a priority for Zhongli.

It wasn't obvious either. He had his day job and you had yours. To regular couples, the amount of distance you two spend would be a little strange, but time is something you have in abundance so it didn't really matter when you spend a few days apart doing your day jobs.

It was Hutao who brought it up the on the evening's Lantern Rite dinner.

"Aiyaya, it seems like everybody alive and dead has a date for this year's lantern rite."

"Hahaha! And here we are celebrating a feast with new and old friends. It doesn't sound like much of a loss to me." Venti laugjs, pouring himself a drink that threatens to overflow from his hand.

"I'm not saying it's a loss, I'm simply wondering wouldn't some of you want to spend the night with a special someone?" She smirks, eyes scanning the group. Chongyun coughs into his cup as Xiao averts his gaze from the troublemaker.

"If you're asking for my opinion, I'd say everyone here is quite special to me," Lumine smiles warmly before glancing at the two archons and yaksha, "I'm sure there's still time for dating in the future. We're not that old."

"Well. . ." Hutao turns to Zhongli. He raises a brow, placing down his cup.

"May I ask why you're staring at me, Director Hu?"

"No reason~ It's just, as your boss, of course I'm a little bit concerned. Aren't you wasting your youth by not going out on dates, mister Zhongli? I'm sure there's a line of Liyuens who would love to–"

A burst of laughter comes from the green bard. "Oh, him? On a Lantern Rite date with someone else? (Name) would surely kill him."

"(Name)?" Everyone questions.

"Huh? He didn't tell you?" Venti tilts his head.

Zhongli coughs, "Ah. . . Please don't be concerned about my dating life, Director Hu. After all, I am already married."

Silence.

A cup drops.

Tea spills (literally).

Then,

"Married?!" The restaurant shakes as Hutao and Lumine jolt upright, hands slamming the table.

"Married." Zhongli confirms.

"What! For how long? When? What's their name? Why have you never–"

Zhongli hushes, trying to calm his boss from jumping over the table. His face dusts a light pink, perhaps embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

"For a few. . . years now. As you know, they're (Name). And as for why I never mentioned my wife. . ." He glances at the crowd, ". . . I simply forgot."

"You. . . forgot," Xingqiu slowly repeats.

"Yes, it seems I've forgotten to inform everyone. Then again, is it not obvious that I'm a married man?"

Chongyun covers his face in his hands, processing the whole ordeal, "Thinking back. . . mister Zhongli always had a domestic kind of aura. It seems so obvious now."

"Wait, wait, wait! How come I didn't know about this? We work together almost everyday! And why does Venti know! Didn't you two just met! Do you even have a ring?" Hutao interjects, flabbergasted as Zhongli and Venti freezes.

In truth, he does have a ring. One he carved himself made of only the most precious of jade and metal. It has rested under his glove for centuries—

Under his glove also hides his draconic arms, golden veins against dark brown, almost scale-like skin. Proof of a entity greater than human.

"Ehe. . . about that," Venti nervously looks away, "I've actually. . . met his wife before!" He covers up, voice laced with enthusiasm.

"Yes, yes, my wife is quite fond of Mondstadt's songs. They've frequently visited the nation before."

"And you don't come along?" Xiangling asks.

"I don't."

The group blinks.

"And what about the ring? I never see you wear a wedding ring." Hutao narrows her eyes.

"That's because I don't wear it." He answers bluntly.

". . . and you never introduced them to us because. . .?" Lumine questions.

"Because . . . I haven't had the time to?"

Hutao rests back on her chair, her eyes glazed in judgment, "No offense mister Zhongli, but you seem like a terrible husband. If you don't get your act straight, I'd say your marriage won't last."

His jaw drops. Venti laughs.

|| ko-fi support / character m.list ||

~ bonus ~

"Darling, am I a terrible husband?"

"No? What makes you think that?"

"No reason. Although I believe we should try dating publicly."

tumblr has been deleting my last paragraphs why

//for some reason tumblr has been deleting my last lines in drafts so i have to type this so my last sentences wont get deleted

"No reason. But perhaps it's about time I show you off to the public more."

ko-fi support | character m.list

#genshin #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli fluff #zhongli fic #genshin fluff #genshin x reader

[beansprean]

The Card~

Has anyone stopped thinking about this since it happened? No? Me neither.

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Shot from within Guillermo's room under the stairs as Nandor, in his usual belted coat but with his hair half up in a ponytail rather than a bun, holds the curtain aside with one arm. He announces, "You may keep your shit and do your human things in here." Guillermo, 19 years old with fluffy overgrown hair in a side part and a pimply chin, ducks around him to step inside. He is wearing a black lady gaga shirt over a white button up and jeans, has a duffel bag slung over his chest, and a backpack hanging on one shoulder. He stares into the sad little room, unable to muster any enthusiasm as he replies "Oh... Um." 1b. Reverse shot behind Nandor's shoulder, the tiny room's faded walls, bare yellowed mattress, and single abandoned pillow visible in the background. Nandor turns in profile to the viewer and imperiously demands, "I will allow you two minutes to settle your affairs, then I expect you to begin dusting the fancy room as it has begun to grow bunnies." Guillermo, having stepped into the room and pulled off his duffel bag, turns back to him with a nervous smile and says "Of course! Thank you, Nandor." Nandor replies, "You will address me as 'sir' or 'master,' Greenberg." Guillermo corrects him, "It's Guillermo. Sir." Nandor snaps, "Whatever." 1c. Reverse shot, Nandor standing in the doorway holding the curtain open, gesturing with his finger as he turns to leave. He scolds, "A familiar is not expected to be correcting a vampire! I will see you in two minutes; try not to die until then." From offscreen, Guillermo calls out "Oh, wait- uh, Master?" 1d. Close up on Nandor as Guillermo continues, "I got you something." Nandor whips his head back around in not-unpleasant surprise, starry eyes landing directly on Guillermo for the first time.

2. Wide shot of them both in profile, the entryway between the familiar's room and the main hall dividing the space between them. Guillermo, having deposited his bags, steps toward Nandor with a greeting card held out in both hands. Blushing, and with his eyes fixed on the card rather than Nandor's face, Guillermo stammers, "It's just a stupid card, I-I didn't really know how to... I mean, I just wanted you to know how grateful I am. To be your familiar." Nandor reaches out for the card with one careful hand, fingers splayed and head held back as if he thought it might explode. His fingers meet the card precisely where the two rooms meet.

3a. Close up of Nandor's hand holding the card, which has a smiling cartoon cheese block saying 'You're the Gratest!" to a cartoon cheese grater, which looks delighted and surprised. Offscreen, Guillermo says "Thank you for choosing me." 3b. Repeat. Nandor flips open the card to see Guillermo's handwritten inscription: "To be a vampire is my dream. But to be your familiar will be my honor. Thank you for this opportunity. -Guillermo". 3c. Close up on the top half of Nandor's face as he rears back slightly in surprise, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and shining with delight. The background turns a buttery yellow dotted with bokeh lights, the words 'my honor' repeating again and again throughout.

4a. Zoom out, shot from behind Guillermo's shoulder. Nandor flips the card closed and flips it toward his chest, free hand planting itself on his hip to feign indifference despite his fluster. He sputters, "Well, with all of your sappy time-wasting, you have only one minute left! Lateness reflects poorly on me as your master; you are not starting off on the good foot!" Guillermo startles to attention in the foreground, stammering out, "Right! Sorry sir, uh, master, sir." 4b. Shot from the hallway as Nandor steps out of Guillermo's room and sternly closes the curtain behind him, still holding the card to his chest with his free hand. 4c. Close up as Nandor hunches his shoulders protectively and raises the opened card up close to his face with a flustered and urgent expression, as if trying to read it in secret. 4d. Full body of Nandor from behind as he stands alone in the foyer, a long shadow stretching out in front of him as the room is lit green around him - Guillermo's color. A few bokeh lights float aimlessly around Nandor's head as he reads the card again, murmuring thoughtfully to himself, "...Guillermo...hmmm..."

5a. A few horizontal black bars indicate the passage of time. 5b. Shot inside a wardrobe, the door cracked open to let a beam of light fall inside. Stowed between hanging coats is a small wooden chest with the lid raised halfway up. Inside are a few hanging pendants, a roll of parchment, a golden fork, a discarded shirt, a few expired coupons, a folded letter with Nandor's name written on the front in Farsi, and Guillermo's card. It is front and center, illuminated by the beam of light, and clearly well-read, the spine creased and corners slightly dog-eared. Offscreen, Nandor calls, "Guillermo! You have destroyed a spider house, now where will she sleep??" Guillermo stutters out a confused apology, "I-? I'm sorry, Master!" Nandor continues, "That is one demerit for you, and one more year as my familiar!" Carved surreptitiously into the shelf in the wardrobe is the word 'end'. It's the end of the comic. /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #wwdits s5e8 #wwdits season 5 #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #2009 guillermo #shadowsart #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described #card is from the hallmark website and me and indashadows used the same pun dkjhfkjfhfs

[seelestia]

in lieu of the boop fest: genshin men as boopers.

⎯ something made on a whim to commemorate the lovely booping chaos going on. may not be accurate but i tried!!! 🙏 which one are you?? tag yourself /j this is the silliest thing ever, forgive me. fluff & crack (and made with love).

the harbinger of dedication (???): boop them once and oh, it's on. boops you back and will not stop booping you back — it's an all-out war! or at least, to them. they take this whole matter as an opportunity and certainly don't mind tiring their fingers out just tapping the button on repeat. does it for the fun and to get a reaction out of you. also, probably eats (sends) super boops for breakfast, lunch and dinner. it's their bread and butter.

childe (of course), arataki itto, cyno (has a desire to max out his boop-o-meter till the end - a completionist's habit).

the menace (as simple as that): they have no need to be booped because they're the one booping you first and a lot at that too. oh, you got 99+ notifs? yeah, that's an act of love and it's from them. they hoped you liked the gift because they had fun giving it. grab a handkerchief because you're gonna have to scrub that smirk off their face, literally.

wriothesley, kaeya, shikanoin heizou, lyney (he apologizes by treating you to a meal afterwards).

confusion (awkward ver.): ...what. what is this? what does 'boop' even mean? why does it sound so oddly menacing when uttered out loud? and why are you smiling at like that? it's a trend, you explain and they — reluctantly and nervously — send a boop back. they have no idea what they're doing but at least, seeing that proud look on your face amounts to something. maybe, they did well? they then proceed to send you another one just for good measure. how cute.

xiao, gorou.

confusion (boomer ver.): their first thought was that they're getting hacked by a... feline virus? how interesting (please explain). with some explanation from you, they'll eventually understand the concept! a passive booper at best, but has a proclivity to treat boops as a “i'm thinking about you” button. so just know one boop equals to one time you crossed their mind.

zhongli, neuvillette, dainsleif (still confused at the end of it), diluc (secretly because he has pride).

the 'humble' reciprocator (dark horse?): all is in perfect tandem. you give one boop, they give one back. you give two boops, they give two back. you squint your eyes at them from across the room suspiciously, they chuckle into their hand in response. is that an act of mischief or demureness? you wonder what will happen if you boop them one hundred times? well, let's find out. (they will give back the exact amount, no matter what.)

kaedehara kazuha, baizhu, kamisato ayato (a true hybrid between being humble and a menace, he is. starts off nice until he spams boops when you least expect it... with a smile, of course!).

the bystander with the popcorn: thanks for the boop, you get one back. yes, only one, sorry. they'd rather not participate in the chaos and prefer to keep their inbox clean. no offense meant, you're free to have your fun so go ahead. they're just here to observe because in their humblest opinion, it serves them well enough as participating does. oh, don't look at them like that. you did get one back, didn't you? rejoice in the fact that you're one of the few — if not, the only one — they gave a boop to. treat it as an approval badge. it means you're special (to them).

alhaitham, tighnari, albedo, wanderer (he thinks he's above this childish and pointless act of booping... or is he?).

the victim™: is getting booped left and right without rest. suffocating and drowning in them even. lady luck is not on their side; they swore they booped everyone back to infinity and beyond — surely, it's all repaid and they can take a break now, right? wrong. they rest for 5 minutes and come back to 99+ notifs every single time. (if you relate, you might be a victim of affectionate bullying. feel free to riot about it.)

kaveh, thoma.

the loser at the start line: sneezes whenever the paw comes up on screen, yikes. A+ for effort, though!

venti.

— thanks for reading!

© seelestia on tumblr, apr 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #childe x reader #itto x reader #cyno x reader #wriothesley x reader #kaeya x reader #lyney x reader #xiao x reader #gorou x reader #zhongli x reader #neuvillette x reader #dainsleif x reader #diluc x reader #baizhu x reader #alhaitham x reader #albedo x reader #tighnari x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #heizou x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kaveh x reader #thoma x reader #venti x reader #seelestial.inks

[bitchiswild]

Possessive Desires

G!P Wonyoung x F! Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: creampie,mean girl wony, smut, giving head, idkkkk 🤷‍♀️

A/n: IM BACKKKK…I THINKKK🥳🥳🤷‍♀️

Wonyoung was well aware of your interest in her friend, but he seemed oblivious to it all. Whenever you were around, being charming and friendly with him, he remained clueless, like an airhead who couldn't see beyond your niceties. This only fueled Wonyoung's jealousy, as she couldn't fathom how you could flirt with her friend right in front of her. After all, she knew she was attractive—every girl wanted her attention. But it seemed like you only had eyes for her friend.

The repeated occurrences of seeing you shower her friend with attention only intensified Wonyoung's envy. It irked her to see her friend effortlessly capture your gaze, as if she didn't deserve any attention herself. With her looks, intelligence, and wealth, Wonyoung couldn't understand why you weren't drawn to her instead.

Gradually, Wonyoung came to realize that her jealousy wasn't really about you—it was about her friend getting the attention she craved. The attention that she wished was directed towards her. Deep down, Wonyoung harbored feelings for you, but her pride and ego prevented her from confessing. Yet, amidst her internal struggle, she couldn't ignore the occasional glances you threw her way.

Feeling frustrated and determined, Wonyoung realized she needed to take action. She concocted a plan—a scheme designed to make you desire her attention, to prove that she was more than just a jealous bystander. Her goal was clear: she wanted to see you beg for her affection, to demonstrate that she had the power to captivate you, even if it meant embracing her reputation as a "mean girl."

There you were, looking stunning as ever, but who was it all for? That dim-witted friend of her. Wonyoung longed for you to dress up for her instead, to be her doll, a doll she could lavish with all her wealth. With determination burning inside her, Wonyoung rose from her seat and confidently made her way over to you.

As she approached, she took charge, moving your chair to face her, a smirk playing on her lips as she caught you off guard.

"Y/n," she purred, your name rolling off her tongue like honey.

"Wonyoung, hi, can I help you?" you asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Wonyoung clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "What are your intentions with Eli, hmm?" Her gaze locked with yours, causing a flutter in your stomach.

As you tried to gather your thoughts, Wonyoung leaned in closer, her gaze intense. "I've noticed how you've been cozying up to Eli lately," she continued, her voice low and compelling. "But let me make something clear, Y/n. Eli may be my friend, but I won't stand by and watch someone take advantage of him."

You could feel the tension in the air, Wonyoung's words hanging between you like a challenge. But instead of backing down, you met her gaze squarely. "I assure you, Wonyoung, my intentions with Eli are purely friendly," you replied, your tone steady despite the swirling emotions inside you.

Wonyoung's expression softened slightly, but the fire in her eyes remained. "Good," she said, straightening up. "Because if I ever find out otherwise, you'll have me to deal with." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away. She paused for a moment, then unexpectedly, she stopped and turned back towards you. "Oh, and you look cute today," she said with a faint smile, before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving you to ponder her words and the unexpected flutter in your heart.

You were in the midst of a conversation with Eli, the atmosphere light and easy between you two. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself getting lost in the warmth of his company. However, the tranquility was shattered when Wonyoung approached, her steps deliberate and her gaze fixated on you with an unsettling intensity.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" she drawled, her tone laced with thinly veiled disdain.

Eli's expression shifted to one of confusion as he glanced between you and Wonyoung. "Hey, Wonyoung," he greeted cautiously. "What's up?"

Ignoring his greeting, Wonyoung narrowed her eyes at you, her voice cutting through the air like ice. "Y/n, you seem to be spending an awful lot of time with Eli lately," she remarked, her words tinged with accusation.

Your stomach tightened as you braced yourself for what was to come. "We're just friends, Wonyoung," you replied, trying to maintain your composure in the face of her scrutiny.

A smirk played at the corners of Wonyoung's lips as she leaned in closer, her words dripping with venom. "Friends, huh? Funny, because it looks like you're trying a little too hard to get his attention," she whispered, her gaze boring into yours with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine.

Eli's brow furrowed in confusion as he sensed the tension between you two. "Wonyoung, what's going on?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Wonyoung straightened up, her facade of superiority firmly in place. "Oh, nothing, Eli," she replied sweetly, her eyes never leaving yours. "Just thought I'd remind Y/n here to stay in their lane."

With that final jab, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving you and Eli to exchange bewildered glances, the tension thickening in the air as you both grappled with the implications of Wonyoung's words.

As the days passed, Wonyoung's constant interference in your interactions with Eli became increasingly bothersome. Her persistent questioning and snide remarks left you wondering if there was more to her behavior than met the eye. Could it be that Wonyoung harbored feelings for you herself, explaining her relentless interruptions and scrutiny?

After class ended one day, you decided to retreat to an empty classroom to study, hoping for some peace and quiet away from Wonyoung's prying eyes. As you made your way down the deserted hallway, lost in your thoughts, you rounded a corner and nearly collided with Wonyoung.

"Y/n, fancy meeting you here," she greeted, her tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension at the unexpected encounter. "Wonyoung, hi," you replied cautiously, unsure of what to expect.

Wonyoung's eyes glittered with a mischievous glint as she stepped closer, her gaze locking onto yours. "So, still spending all your time with Eli, I see," she remarked, her voice dripping with insinuation.

You bristled at her remark, a mixture of frustration and curiosity bubbling within you. "What's it to you, Wonyoung?" you shot back, unable to mask the edge in your voice.

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of Wonyoung's lips as she leaned in closer, her breath ghosting over your ear. "Oh, nothing, Y/n," she whispered, her voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Just making sure you're not forgetting who you really want."

With that cryptic remark, she pulled away and sauntered off down the hallway, leaving you standing there, bewildered and more confused than ever about Wonyoung's true intentions.

As you settled into the quiet confines of the empty classroom, books and notes scattered across the desk before you, Wonyoung's cryptic remark echoed in your mind. "Just making sure you're not forgetting who you really want." What did she mean by that? The question gnawed at you, distracting you from your studies as your thoughts drifted back to Wonyoung and the complexities of your interactions.

Despite your best efforts to focus, your mind kept wandering, replaying moments spent with Wonyoung and Eli, trying to decipher the true nature of your feelings. Did you truly want Eli's company, or was there something more drawing you to Wonyoung? The realization sent a jolt of uncertainty coursing through you, leaving you grappling with newfound emotions and the daunting task of untangling your desires. As the hours passed, you found yourself lost in a tumult of conflicting emotions, unsure of where your heart truly lay.

As you prepared to leave the room, the door swung open, and there stood Wonyoung, a smirk playing on her lips. "Wonyoung," you greeted, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

She stepped into the room, her gaze unwavering as she sauntered closer, the smirk never leaving her face. "Well, well, well, look who's here," she teased, her tone dripping with amusement.

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of her gaze upon you. "What do you want, Wonyoung?" you asked, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure.

Wonyoung's smirk widened into a knowing grin as she closed the distance between you, her movements deliberate and confident. "I'll be honest, Y/n. I've been eyeing you for a while, but you had to pick my friend. While I stood there waiting for you to give me the same amount of attention," she husked, her voice low and seductive. "But to sum it up, I want you."

Her words hung in the air, and before you could respond, she reached out and caressed your face, sending a shiver down your spine. You were left speechless, the intensity of her gaze leaving you powerless to resist her allure.

"I... I didn't realize," you stammered, your mind racing to process her confession. Your heart pounded in your chest, the air thick with anticipation and an undeniable undercurrent of sexual tension between you.

Wonyoung's eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "Well, now you know," she whispered huskily, her lips brushing against your skin in a tantalizing caress.

A shiver ran down your spine at the intimate gesture, your senses overwhelmed by the electrifying chemistry crackling between you. Despite the uncertainty swirling in your mind, there was no denying the magnetic pull drawing you closer to Wonyoung, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you both.

Your eyes locked with Wonyoung's, the intensity of her gaze sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through you. In that charged moment, her eyes flickered down to your lips, a silent invitation hanging between you.

Without hesitation, she gripped your jaw with a firm yet gentle touch, pulling you into a kiss that ignited a blazing inferno of desire within you. Her lips were soft against yours, her kiss possessive and electrifying. As the heat between you intensified, her hands began to caress your sides, trailing down to your hips with an intoxicating urgency.

Breaking the kiss, she pressed feather-light kisses down your jawline, her lips trailing a path of fire along your skin. Your breath hitched as she pushed you against the nearby desk, the cool surface contrasting with the searing heat of your desire.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you surrendered to the intoxicating whirlwind of sensation, Wonyoung's touch igniting a passionate inferno that consumed you both in its fervor.

At the height of passion, Wonyoung suddenly pulled away, her movements swift and purposeful. With a seductive grace, she lowered her skirt, revealing the hard cock, which slapped against her stomach. The sight left you breathless, your senses overwhelmed by desire.

As you watched, captivated by the tantalizing display before you, Wonyoung seized control, pulling you down to your knees with a commanding grip. Your heart raced with anticipation as she looked down at you, her eyes dark with desire.

"Suck," she commanded, her voice husky and commanding, sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. With a hunger that bordered on desperation, you eagerly complied, unable to resist the irresistible pull of Wonyoung's dominance.

As you obediently took Wonyoung's cock into your mouth, a wave of primal desire surged through you. The taste of her on your tongue, the feeling of her hardness against your lips, sent a thrill coursing through your veins. With each eager movement, you elicited soft moans and whimpers from Wonyoung, her pleasure echoing in the air, driving you to new heights of arousal.

Her moans were like music to your ears, spurring you on as you lavished attention on her, relishing every gasp and whimper that escaped her lips.”Thats it baby.” Lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your actions, you surrendered yourself completely to the heady sensation of pleasuring Wonyoung, each moan she uttered pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As Wonyoung's moans grew more urgent, you felt a surge of desire coursing through you. With each flick of your tongue and gentle suction, you sought to drive her pleasure to new heights. Her hands tangled in your hair, urging you closer, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Unable to resist the overwhelming urge to taste her fully, you took her deeper into your mouth, eliciting a guttural groan of satisfaction from Wonyoung. Her hips bucked against you, the rhythm of her movements matching the frantic beat of your heart.

With a swift movement, Wonyoung pulled you off her, drawing you close against her as desire blazed in her eyes. Before you could react, she guided you over to the desk, her touch firm yet gentle as she positioned you just the way she desired. Your heart pounded with anticipation as she pulled your skirt and underwear down, baring you to her hungry gaze.

Pressing her body against yours, she trailed kisses along your neck, sending shivers down your spine. With a low growl of need, she rubbed her hard cock against your ass, the friction igniting a fierce hunger within you both. The air crackled with electricity as you surrendered to the intoxicating heat of the moment, the boundaries between you blurring in a haze of raw desire.

With a husky whisper against your ear, Wonyoung's voice dripped with desire as she spoke, "I'll make sure you forget about Eli after this, and only I'm on your mind." Her words sent a jolt of arousal coursing through you, the promise of forbidden pleasure igniting a fire within.

As she continued to tease and torment you with her words, her hands roamed your body with a possessive fervor, stoking the flames of passion to new heights.

Wonyoung wasted no time in fulfilling her promise. Gripping your hips with a firm yet commanding hold, she positioned herself behind you, her hardened length pressing against your entrance with undeniable urgency.

With a guttural groan, she thrust into you with unbridled force, filling you completely with her throbbing cock. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you as Wonyoung plunged into you again and again, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

Lost in the frenzy of passion, you surrendered yourself completely to Wonyoung's relentless rhythm, the sound of your combined moans filling the air as she claimed you as her own. With each powerful thrust, you felt yourself pushed to the brink of oblivion, the intensity of your connection transcending all boundaries as you were consumed by the raw, primal heat of desire.

As Wonyoung relentlessly pounded into you, her voice filled with primal desire as she unleashed a torrent of dirty talk. "You like that, don't you?" she growled, her words dripping with lust. "You're mine now, Y/n. Mine to fuck however I want."

Her hands tightened on your hips, her grip possessive as she drove into you with unrelenting force. "I bet you've never been fucked like this before," she taunted, her breath hot against your ear. "But you're going to remember me every time you close your eyes."

With each punishing thrust, she pushed you closer to the edge of ecstasy, her words fueling the flames of desire that consumed you both. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the raw, unbridled passion that bound you together in a frenzy of pleasure and abandon.

Her words became a symphony of domination and desire. "You're mine to spoil, mine to fuck whenever and wherever," she groaned, her voice thick with lust. "You belong to me, Y/n, and I'm going to claim every inch of you."

With each powerful thrust, she drove the point home, her grip on your hips tightening as she took you with an intensity that bordered on primal. "No one else can satisfy you like I can," she declared, her voice a husky whisper against your skin. "You're mine, Y/n, and I'm going to make you scream my name."

Lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure and dominance, you surrendered yourself completely to Wonyoung, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony as you were consumed by the fiery passion that bound you together. In that moment, there was no doubt—you belonged to her, completely and utterly, and she intended to make sure you knew it.

As the intensity of your connection reached its peak, the air was filled with a chorus of moans and gasps, mingling with the rhythmic sounds of flesh meeting flesh. With each impassioned cry that escaped your lips, you found yourself calling out Wonyoung's name in a fervent plea for more.

"God, Wonyoung," you moaned, the sound choked with desire as pleasure surged through every fiber of your being.

Her own voice joined yours in a symphony of ecstasy, each moan and groan echoing the raw intensity of your shared passion. "Yes, Y/n," she groaned, her voice thick with need. "Scream my name, let me hear how much you want me."

With a swift yet commanding movement, Wonyoung flipped you onto your back, her eyes smoldering with unbridled desire as she hovered over you. The sudden change in position sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you, your heart racing in anticipation of what was to come.

As she thrust into you with renewed vigor, each movement driving you deeper into the throes of ecstasy, you couldn't help but cry out her name in a symphony of pleasure and need. "Wonyoung!" you screamed, the sound echoing through the room as pleasure surged through every fiber of your being.

Her own moans mingled with yours, the air thick with the heady scent of desire as she claimed you as her own. With each powerful thrust, she pushed you closer to the edge of oblivion, her dominance igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment.

As the sounds of slapping flesh echoed through the classroom, punctuated by gasps of breath and cries of pleasure, the intensity of the moment reached its peak. "F-Fuck, Wonyoung, I'm gonna cum!" you cried out, your voice trembling with ecstasy.

"Yes, that's it, baby," Wonyoung groaned, her thrusts never faltering as she drove you relentlessly towards the edge. "Cum all over my cock."

With a desperate cry, you felt yourself teetering on the brink of release, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as Wonyoung's skilled touch pushed you closer to the edge. Her fingers found your clit, rubbing and pushing you to the brink, until finally, you couldn't hold back any longer.

You came hard on her cock, your body convulsing with the force of your release as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. The vice-like grip you had on her cock only served to drive her further over the edge, and with a guttural groan, Wonyoung emptied herself inside you, painting your insides white with her release.

As Wonyoung collapsed on top of you, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, you wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as you both gasped for air. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, the heat of your passion still lingering in the air as you lay together in the aftermath.

When Wonyoung lifted her head to look at you, her gaze was intense, filled with a possessiveness that sent a thrill coursing through you. "I don't want you to talk to Eli anymore. You're mine," she husked, her voice laced with determination.

Your stomach fluttered at her possessiveness, a mixture of excitement and apprehension swirling within you. But as you looked into Wonyoung's eyes, you knew that you wanted nothing more than to belong to her completely.

With a soft smile, you nodded in agreement, your heart feeling lighter at the thought of relinquishing your ties to Eli. "I'm yours, Wonyoung," you whispered, your voice filled with conviction. "Only yours."

In that moment, you knew that your connection with Wonyoung was something special, something worth holding onto with everything you had. And as you held her in your arms, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you, knowing that you had found your place by her side.

#bitchiswild #BIW. WRITES #ive x reader #jang wonyoung ive #ive jang wonyoung #ive wonyoung #jang wonyoung smut #jang wonyoung x reader #wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung #wonyoung #ive x fem reader #ive smut #ive imagines #ive #jang wonyoung x female reader #wonyoung x fem reader #mean girl wonyoung

[politemenacephd]

The Surrogate (Part One)

Miguel O'Hara X Peter B. Parker X GN!Reader (+18)

Part two Series Content: Planned pregnancy, Breeding kink, PinV sex, Oral sex, Threesome, Web knotting, Aftercare, Possible Angst/fluff.

Miguel and Peter want a third child, and apparently they've run out of options. That is, except for you, their friend and colleague. They offer to cover everything, and the pay is life-changing. There's just one catch: they went to concieve naturally.

notes: i am working on arachnophilia, shits jst kinda rough, but i started this a while ago, enjoy x

‘You want what?!’

You almost spat out your drink in shock, unsure if you’d really heard what you’d just heard correctly. It was a miracle you didn’t accidentally spit alcohol into your companions faces.

You were sat in a booth at the bar all the spiders went to in Nueva York when off duty. It was pristine and white like almost everything else in this world, with floating tables and neon lights adorning the walls in various space themed shapes.

You’d been here a couple times before yourself, but tonight was different.

You’d been brought here by two of your friends from the Spider Society; Peter, one of the older ones, and Miguel, the head of the entire institute and Peter’s very open partner. They’d been incredibly cryptic about why they’d wanted to meet, with Peter simply insisting over and over that it was important, that they needed you to hear them out, and though you’d rolled your eyes a bit as he followed you around the HQ like a lost dog you’d eventually relented to his pleading.

You were now very aware of why they’d been so cryptic.

As you wiped away the small dribble of drink left sliding down your chin, Miguel and Peter continued to watch you in silence. Miguel was fixed with his usual sombre expression while Peter beamed at his side, hands clasped on the table in an inviting, open manner. It was the strangest contrast.

‘Just, think about it!’ Peter said. ‘That’s all we’re asking!’

‘No, no—wait, so I heard correctly?’ you stammered. Peter and Miguel shot each other a look before turning back to you in unison. After some nudging from Peter, Miguel forced a similar patient smile onto his face.

‘Yes. You, heard correctly’ he said. You gabbed at them both.

‘I—So, you, want me to be your surrogate?’ you repeated dumbly. The two men nodded.

‘W…. why?’ you asked, your voice audibly wheezing as you darted between the two. The two men just glanced at each other. They seemed almost dumbfounded that you would ask such a question, like they hadn’t anticipated your immediate acceptance.

‘Well, we… We love the girls, so much, and—we just, we want another one’ Peter said. ‘It’s all we talk about at home! Every night, how May and Gabi deserve a sibling, and—recently they started talking about it too, and—we can’t tell them no!’

‘But, I mean—sure, that’s great, but Why me? Why are you coming straight to me? Have you guys ruled out adoption, or… I mean I’m just, surprised? Or, confused? Definitely confused’ you replied slowly.

‘Ah, no, we haven’t… ruled it out, per say’ Peter said with a shrug. ‘Just—it’s, hard to work out adoption when uh—’

‘Peter isn’t from this universe’ Miguel bluntly interrupted. You could hear the slight sadness in his voice. ‘And—with my genetics, and my background, it—the government would never allow it.’

‘Oh… Oh, I see. But, why me then?’ you stammered. You were on good terms with the two men, that was true enough, but you hadn’t thought you were this close. It was so out of left field as well.

‘We—ran an analysis on whose genetics would be best suited for the role’ Miguel muttered. You noticed that he looked embarrassed to be admitting this. ‘Because of what happened to me, how my DNA was spliced, it’s tricky. I’m not genetically compatible with a lot of people. You were, one of five candidates, and we believed you were the best.’

You couldn’t help but wonder who the other candidates were, but more so you were stuck on the idea of needing to be genetically compatible. You knew Miguel was unusual, but, that unusual?

‘So, you came to me first, huh?’ you asked, lightly stirring your drink.

‘Yes!’ Peter hissed. He was leaning in over his lap with his fists tucked to his chest, his eyes wide and desperate. ‘Yes! Because we trust you!’

You couldn’t help but smile at his sweet insistence. ‘Hey, guys, I like you too, but—’

‘We’ll compensate you’ Peter insisted. ‘We will! Miguel will pay WHATEVER you want. The entire time we’ll pay for housing, food, medical care. You will be absolutely safe. And, along with that, we’ll give you a full payment after the babies born as thanks! We’ll—’

‘Hey, hey, woah!’ You raised your hands to try and slow the man down as he began physically crawling over the table in his excitement. Miguel grunted and silently grabbed his collar, dragging him back to his seat. Peter squirmed a little in his partner’s tight grip. ‘I’m just explaining, I—’

‘Look, that—that’s all amazing. I just—’ You were silenced as Peter reached over once more to slap down a cheque on the table. You darted your eyes at the two men before lifting it up.

‘Holy…. Shit’ you hissed.

It was a lot. A LOT of money. Not so much as to be impossible or unreasonable, but enough to make your stomach drop.

‘I—you’d, give me this?’ you stammered.

‘Yes! For your labour and time’ Peter said. ‘Fair compensation.’

You paused. This amount of money was enough to make a serious, permanent difference in your life. You’d told yourself you could cope, that you could just put up with the status quo, but this changed everything. And what, all you had to do was carry their baby for nine months?

Peter leaned closer. ‘Are you, just not comfortable with pregnancy, or—’

‘No’ you said, eyes still fixed on the cheque. ‘No, it’s—fine, just… Are we, doing this like, casually?’

‘I’m willing to pay for us to both have lawyers. You can choose yours, so you’re comfortable, just bill me ahead of time for the cost. We’ll draft up contracts to be sure no boundaries are broken, and to ensure you have a legal right to what we say we owe you, and of course with clauses to protect your personal autonomy’ Miguel explained. Man, when he talked business he was so commanding, you thought.

‘Huh. Okay. I mean… I, I guess I, would be fine with that’ you muttered back.

‘I understand this would be a large undertaking’ Miguel said, his body leaning a little closer. You watched with wide and curious eyes as his arm came down over the table. You were fixated on the bulge of his bicep, nearly the size of your head now bursting from the seam of his slim fit shirt. It made you a little dizzy, as did the thick, dark hair across his forearm. You watched his calloused fingers drumming on the table, revelling in the clack of his talons.

Peter must have seen you eyeing him because he rushed to hide his smug smile. He knew you were giving in.

‘I’m taking it seriously. You will be compensated, you will be cared for. I just need to know that you understand what you’re getting into. We… Trust you, well enough. That’s why we’re asking you. We trust that you’d have our best interests as heart, just as we’d have yours’ Miguel said slowly. You nodded.

‘Okay. Sure. So, do we do invitro, or—’

The way their faces changed caused you to stutter on your words. They glanced at each other, their faces strained, as if they dreaded what they had to say next. Miguel pumped his brow once before turning away, leaving Peter to sigh and address you alone. Clearly Miguel didn’t trust himself to deliver whatever the bargain was.

‘We… Ideally, we, would like a… natural, conception’ Peter said, his voice dipping slightly on the word ‘natural.’

You felt all the blood rush from your head, only to rise back up and fill your cheeks with a pulsating warmth. Natural? Conception?

‘So… You, would want to get me pregnant—’

‘Physically. By us’ Miguel said. You hated how you shuddered slightly at his voice, at that smooth, husky, sombre tone. It slid down your ears like silk.

‘It’s just, our preference’ Peter explained with a lopsided smile. ‘Miguel’s not a fan of, sterile environments like an invitro lab, brings back bad memories you know? And—well we don’t like the idea of anyone having access to his genes, or mine, that’s bad news. Plus, it’s less stress on you, theoretically. No doctors poking you, or injecting thing, blegh. You know. You know, of course you know.’

You nodded along slowly as he spoke. I mean, it made sense. You had felt some concern when it was first brought up but they both seemed sincere, like this was just the best option, and they seemed so excited. You decided to continue entertaining this idea.

‘Ah… Sure. So, would it just be, one, of you? Like we work out who we want, or—’

‘Well, I mean, we’re not fussed about who the biological father is’ Peter said, his lip tilting into a shy half-smile. ‘It can be either of us. But, chances of success are higher if, we… both, are, trying.’

You raised both brows as you slowly realized what he was coyly implying. ‘You—so, both of you? You’d, both be having sex with me?’

‘Yyyyeaahh’ Peter said. His dorky smile was so annoyingly sweet, you thought glumly, especially on such a handsome face. You always struggled to say no to him. ‘It’s just, like we said, ensure it happens quicker.’

‘And you’re both fine with this?’

‘Yes! We discussed it before, I made the big guy go to therapy first’ Peter said, playfully tugging on Miguel’s arm as the man stoically stared into the distance. He was putting on a stern face but he was clearly endeared by Peter’s affectionate attitude. ‘Its fine! It’s easier, with you being a friend, because you know us and you respect our relationship already.’

‘I sure do’ you said with a slight laugh.

‘See? Exactly! But yes, we talked about it, we know it’s just business. Well, I mean—not to say, it can’t be fun, I mean that’s what they say right? Making the baby is the fun part—’

‘Peter, please’ Miguel groaned between gritted teeth.

‘What? What! What did I say?’ Peter whined. You stifled your laughter as the two bickered.

‘What I’m saying is, we wouldn’t expect you to just, lie on your back like a brood mare and, uh—just, put up with it’ Peter said in a hushed voice as he returned to you. ‘We’re happy to both be involved, we’re happy to, make sure you’re enjoying yourself too, just—we’ll work out the boundaries.’

Again, you nodded slowly. It was a lot to take in, but they seemed to understand that.

‘Just… Just, gimme a minute’ you asked as you picked up your drink. Miguel nodded while Peter went into a ramble about how fine that was, words which you quickly tuned out as you disassociated into your own thoughts.

It was all happening so fast. You supposed you’d have time after this to work it out, though, They said there’d be contracts drawn up, that would take time. Just… did you want to do this?

Having the baby sounded scary, but as they said it’d be around the clock care. With the head of the spider society and all his equipment on hand it’d be hard to imagine something going wrong. You did also trust the two of them, they were your friends and had proven themselves to be good men. Well, most of the time.

And it wasn’t that you were opposed to sleeping with either of them. They were unbelievably attractive, each in their own unique way. Miguel was gorgeous, a top heavy giant with beautiful eyes and such a deep and expressive face, and Peter had that sweet DILF charm about him. They both did, really.

So what was the hang up? Really, WAS there a hang up? It felt like there should be one, but, the more you thought about it, the more you realized you couldn’t find one.

9 months of work was rough, real rough, but you’d be cared for to the max. You’d be paid an extraordinary amount, enough to change your life. You’d be done and over, a clean cut single job once it was done, and supposedly you’d have your own lawyer to ensure you were protected.

Should everything go to plan… It sounded, almost perfect.

You just had to suck up the courage to lie down and let these two men put a baby in you. The moment you contemplated the thought, your face started to heat up, and you rushed to take a drink to cool it down.

“Okay. Ah, can I… Speak?” You asked, awkwardly calling back their attention. The two men turned to you in unison.

“Okay…” you said slowly, before taking another, conclusive breath. “Okay. I’m in. If—”

‘OH! YES, THANK YOU!”

Your response was cut short as Peter flung himself over the table and wrapped you into a bear hug, an embrace so tight that you could barely breath. Miguel simply offered a sympathetic, if slightly exasperated smile over Peter’s back, before helping to claw the man back once more. “Thank you, thank you- oh this means so much to us!” Peter stammered, ignoring your attempts to quiet him. You could feel other people staring across the bar now and it was becoming quite distracting.

“Yeah, yeah, just- Okay, I happy to start the process. I do want that lawyer, uh- not that I don’t trust you guys, but, like you said it’s a big deal’ you said. Miguel grunted approvingly.

‘I wouldn’t have wanted you for the job if you hadn’t accepted that’ he replied, idly glancing at his nails. ‘I’d only accept someone who was, well… Smart enough to set boundaries, even if we are friends.’

‘Right, right. Good. That’s- good’ you said. At this point your mind was racing. You’d accepted the offer, but, what now? It’d probably be a while before any action happened but the sudden, daunting realization that action *would* happen hit you like a truck. You glanced over to where Miguel and Peter were now deep in conversation.

God, they were both huge. Huge. Miguel especially was enormous, nearly 6ft 9 with that thick neck and toned upper torso, the glint of his chiselled collar bone gleaming beneath the neon bar lights. Peter wasn’t as muscular but he was still tall, nearly as tall as Miguel, and he had that quiet, unsuspecting dad-bod strength about him.

You felt your shoulders hunch a little. You had no idea what to expect going forward here, all you knew is that—

‘Hey, sorry, are you gonna finish this those?’

You jumped back to reality to find Peter pointing across you at the table. Your eyes slowly followed his finger, which you realized was pointing at a half-finished bowl of fries you’d got when you arrived after missing dinner. Your eyes shot back up.

‘Uh… I mean, probably not, no’ you said. Peter didn’t say anything more; he just made that sweet, pleading puppy dog face and tilted his head a little. You and Miguel both sighed in unison, but you willingly slid them over to him.

“Oh thank you—” Peter said before his words were turned to garbled mess as he finished the bowl. You turned awkwardly back to Miguel instead. “I’ll send the paperwork over tomorrow” Miguel said, pre-empting your immediate thoughts. “We’re in no rush, so, we’ll work out the details at your pace.” ‘Aha, ah- sure. Thanks. I mean I’m, assuming it’ll be a long process anyway, right?” you replied.

Miguel tilted his head a little. ‘You mean, the pregnancy? Yes, though, I’ve heard it goes quicker than you think. We’ll do all we can to—’

‘OH, no! Not like, the pregnancy specifically” you elaborated, hands now raised. That drew Peter to look up from devouring everyone else’s meal, his eyes curiously fixed on you. Miguel’s stony red gaze remained locked in much the same way.

‘I mean the uh… The, baby making process’ you explained, giving a shrug to try and ease the awkwardness of saying such a thing. Miguel didn’t flinch though; he continued to stare, his head slightly tilted. ‘Like, making a baby can take… months, up to a year even. We’ll have to work around that timeframe I assume’ you said, finishing your point in a rather stilted manner.

Peter turned to look at Miguel. The neon lights were blaring at his back, shadowing his face until his features popped. So sharp, so thick-set, so chiselled. To your surprise, he suddenly smiled in a way you’d never seen before. He gave you a smug, wolfish grin, flashing just an inch of fang.

‘Oh, no. Don’t you worry about that’ he murmured, his voice unnervingly confident. You blinked and watched with a burning core as Miguel leaned forward to finish.

‘It won’t take long at all.’

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman atsv #atsv peter b parker #miguel x peter #miguel x y/n

[arachine]

— 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?: 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬

+ 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝: multiple stranger things men

+ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mature

+ 𝐜𝐰: explicit sexual content

+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so…i’m back. It’s been so long since i’ve posted the first dick analysis, and i just couldn’t resist doing one for the stranger things men! this is just a filler post until i finish writing some of my requests and outlining the first few chapters of my eddie munson series. until then, please enjoy this, i had a lot of fun just spewing all of my whore thoughts into this >.<

+ part two here !

+ 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: the small font is a stylistic choice. if you are having trouble reading, i suggest you adjust your iphone’s settings!

eddie “the freak” munson

↻ length: the social pariah, eddie munson, is many things. he’s loud, obnoxious, witty, and…a freak. yeah, he roleplays with 15 year old kids, and yeah, he very well may be a super senior–having repeated the 12th grade three times–but those things don’t really make him a freak. no, the thing that makes him a freak is the unnecessarily long, heavy piece of meat that swings between his legs like a pendulum. 

coming in at just about 6 inches flaccid, and 7.5 inches fully erect, eddie takes the cake for this lists’ third longest dong. 

↻ width: eddie’s a pretty skinny guy, and so, his dick’s probably not much thicker than a febreeze bottle. but it’s okay, because skinny dick, is still good dick. 

↻ color: he’s pale but it’s definitely a little tanner than the rest of his body. i’d say it’d progressively get darker the closer it gets to his tip (which is a beautiful mauve-y color that darkens when erect).

extra: 

↻ groomed: it’s the 80s, and he’s a metalhead with a wild mane of hair on his head, so naturally, i think he’d rock a little bush. just a little one, but on occasion, he will tackle it with some scissors and trim it down a bit. 

↻ curved: oh, god, yes. deliciously curved to the left with a plump, mushroomy head. 

↻ veins: duh! two thick veins that begin underside the shaft and split into a fork just beneath the head. 

↻ how he uses it: gonna just go ahead and say it, and this may be controversial, but i honestly think eddie would love putting you in a full nelson. now before you scrunch your nose in disagreement, just LISTEN. he’s such a skinny motherfucker but i just know there’s some muscle under those black skinny jeans and tees. i mean, we all saw that scene where he pinned steve against the wall with a broken beer bottle to his throat—albeit because he was defending himself—but that’s neither here nor there. eddie fucks, and he fucks good. 

steve “good hair” harrington 

↻ length: steve is a ken doll personified. except, unlike a ken doll, there’s actually something down there besides a flat surface—so rest assured, you won’t have to worry about bumping purses when doing the woo hoo. but here’s another controversial opinion: steve doesn’t have a big dick—it’s average, and that’s okay!

steve’s dick rests at a firm 5.3 inches flaccid, and a good 6.5 inches erect. not too big, and not too small. just…perfect, like him. 

↻ width: for what he lacks in length, he makes up for in girth! yeah, you’re getting 6 inches, but he’s hitting you with that stretch—and it burns, but in the best way imaginable. 

↻ color: the prettiest boy in hawkins has to have the prettiest cock, right? i think it’d be pretty light in comparison to the rest of his body. when i think of him, i feel like he’d be one of those guys who are kinda tan but when they take off their pants, they have the most bizarre looking tan lines ever, and their ass is brighter than the moon! anyway, i digress; it’d be pretty pale with a mean, red tip when aroused, and strawberry pink when it’s soft. 

extra: 

↻ groomed: yes. he keeps it really simple. shaves it down real low but not enough to the point where he’s bald. 

↻ curved: as straight as a pencil 

↻ veins: has one on the top of his shaft that wraps around the head 

↻ how he uses it: we’re talking about steve here. steve the womanizer, steve the public enemy and panty dropper of seasons one through three. he’s all about that doggy style life. don’t let his himbo persona in season four fool you, that man is a whore! he likes to get down and dirty, and if that includes you on your hands and knees, with your face shoved into the sheets while your tears drip down onto the sheets…then, so be it. 

billy “ima turn you out” hargrove

↻ length: i am not a billy hargrove enjoyer but i can’t sit here and lie to you, i just won’t. that silly little fella’s got a cock the size of a bull… 

8.2 inches. 

no, i’m not taking criticism. he’s big, end of story. 

↻ width: the length matches the girth, sis. if you think you can take him—you can’t. and if you think i’m kidding—i’m not. think coke bottle, but longer.  

↻ color: tanned to perfection, because of course it is, he was a lifeguard for god sake! 

extra: 

↻ groomed: like steve, he keeps it pretty well trimmed. although, sometimes, he lets it grow out so he can show off his happy trail. and a sight to see it is!

↻ curved: oh my days, it curves to the right—like a lot. a real captain hook. 

↻ veins: absolutely covered in ‘em, but the most prominent one resides on the side of his shaft and if you really look at it, it kinda looks like a little lighting bolt. 

↻ how he uses it: you can’t have sex with billy and expect intimacy, that just isn’t happening. he likes it with absolutely no strings attached and no eye contact. so, expect to be thrown into all types of obscure positions, his favorite of which includes you with half of your body hanging off the bed and him pounding mercilessly into you from behind. honestly, as long as billy gets a view of your ass, he doesn’t really care.

jim “big zaddy” hopper 

↻ length: the biggest dick on this list. a true monster cock, that is it, that is all. 

but if i had to give a specific measurement…9 inches. whether that’s his measurement soft or erect, i’ll let you be the judge of that.  

↻ width: he’s so thick that he’d probably split your pussy open if he didn’t properly prepare you, and even then, you’d still never be prepared enough :(

↻ color: i’d say it would be one or two shades darker than his complexion, and the head is definitely not pink. more like a rouge mixed with a little brown.  

extra: 

↻ groomed: jim just gives grown man, you know? like obviously, he is one, but i just think there’s something so sexy about a man with body hair! so, i don’t think he’d keep it well trimmed, or trimmed at all for that matter. and if he does decide to take a pair of scissors to it, it’s very, very rare. 

↻ curved: surprisingly, no. it’s straight, but extremely heavy and he has big man balls to match. 

↻ veins: yes, just like billy, they’re all over. with a dick as big as his, he’s gonna need all the veins he can get to transport the appropriate amount of blood to it. 

↻ how he uses it: very traditional, very cute and sweet. likes to fuck in missionary because he’s a real man, and he prefers to look into his lover’s eyes while pleasuring them. however, that doesn’t mean he’s a prude. if he wants to, he could put you in a full nelson, but he usually just opts for something that won’t throw his old man back out :)

© all content belongs to arachine 2022. no reposts, modifications, plagiarizing, or remaking of any form without proper credit.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x reader smut #billy hargrove smut #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x reader smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x reader smut #stranger things smut

[generalllimaginesss]

I just have this feeling that Quinn would listen to his girlfriend talk drama all day long, but he would give her the most common sense advice and it would make her frustrated. Like , no advice, just ears and the occasion opinion (but only if it agrees with her opinion).

A sweet little something for my fellow Quinn girls :))

Spilling the Tea…or Juice

There’s many important things that Quinn Hughes was responsible for since becoming captain of the Canucks. Anything from communicating practice schedules to game day pep talks and so many things in between.

While all of his responsibilities were important, he considered being your boyfriend the most important. He was often tasked with being your voice of reason, talking you down from assuming the worse of things and making sound decisions when you felt impulsive.

If he kept a resumé of the relationship between the two of you, he’d definitely add he was one of the girls. He knew every detail that passed amongst the group chat with you and your friends, whether he wanted to know or not wasn’t really a choice that he had the luxury of choosing. You could say he made the decision when he chose to be your boyfriend.

It was a picture perfect Sunday in the apartment that the two of you shared, the sun shining through the blinds, dust circulating despite yours and Quinn’s best effort to clean the day prior. As you chatted away, Quinn poured the two of you some juice that he had pressed himself, his newfound hobby giving him joy along with your presence.

“I have to tell you something that you can’t repeat, okay Quinn?” You said, taking a sip from the glass while swiveling left to right on the barstool.

“Babe, who would I have to tell?” He chuckled, stealing some strawberry slices off your plate.

“So, you know my coworker? The one that got written up last week?” You stole a piece of cantaloupe off of his plate, perhaps subconsciously playing a game of retaliation.

“The one that decided that they didn’t want to show up for work one day?” He questioned for clarity.

“Yes, that one! Well there’s rumors going around the office that he knocked up the boss’s wife and he’s about to get fired. I was told this, but it may not be true…” Trailing off, Quinn’s eyebrows raised in surprise, a sweet smirk accompanying.

“So why are you talking about it if you don’t know if it’s true? Seems like that’s not fair…” His gaze was soft, but teasing. He knew that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

“Quinn…that’s not the point!” You whined, his smile growing in response, “…what if he did get her pregnant? We need a TV show at work.”

“What if he didn’t, though. What if you talking about it is just keeping a rumor circulating?” His words were frustrating, too true, but not what you wanted. You wanted him to gossip, which he knew, but he was giving you straight facts.

“Yeah, well, that’s not what the girls are saying…”

He walked around the bar towards you, standing behind you as he rested his head on your shoulder. His arms wrapped around your torso, thumbs rubbing along you sides.

“Oh, really?” He whispered against your ear, “What are the girls saying?”

“They’re saying that it’s true.”

“Well that just means it’s facts, then, doesn’t it?” His fingers began tickling ferociously at your sides, squeals quickly followed as you desperately tried to escape his grip.

“Quinn Hughes, stop it!”

“What do the girls say about this?” He spun your stool around as he placed a gentle kiss to your lips, supporting your chin with his hand.

“Mmm,” You said between kisses, “…I think they would say that we should have a second course here on the bar…” You moaned.

You tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away, giggling as you whined about it.

“Has anybody ever told you that you suck at spilling tea?” You grabbed his hand, pulling him close to you.

“Well I guess it’s a good thing I drink juice…”

*

*

*

*

I love Quinn Hughes. That is all.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes blurb #canucks hockey #vancouver canucks #captain quinn #jack hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #nico hischier

[wileys-russo]

ignorance is bliss ficlet II l.williamson x reader

my angry cinnamon roll gf’s 🤭

feel free to read the proper full fic that this is a spin off from here

ignorance is bliss ficlet II l.williamson x reader

"did she say she wasn't coming?" lia asked again with a frown as you shrugged hopelessly, just as clueless to your girlfriends absence from training as the rest of the team, leah now almost an hour late and not answering anyone's calls.

"no she was already up and getting ready when i left, she seemed fine?" you explained, having left before your girlfriend to get a coffee with lotte who had then driven the two of you to training, leahs unusual absence causing a pit of worry to form in the bottom of your stomach.

"oh thank god here she is hold on.” you breathed a sigh of relief as her contact flashed on your screen.

“may i please be excused quickly jonas? its leah." you asked softly, wincing as you interrupted the briefing and felt everyone’s eyes watching on as you hurried out of the room, accepting the call.

"leah where the hell are you? you're late and you're never late! in fact you are always on my case about making us late to things." you rambled, stepping outside and holding the phone to your ear.

"yeah uh, i sort of…ran into some car trouble on the way there." leah replied in a strange tone of voice making you frown. "car trouble? whats happened? are you alright?" you questioned quickly with growing concern, leaning against the wall behind you as your mind raced with all the worst case scenarios.

"well..." leah trailed off and you waited patiently for an answer but there wasn't one. "well? just spit it out lee, as long as you're safe we can fix whatever happened, a car is only something material babe." you assured her softly, feeling your chest tighten with nerves at her obvious hesitation to come clean.

"no no it wasn't an accident or anything I um, well I-" leah danced around her words and you felt your patience thinning, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

"isortoflostmylicensecauseigotdonespeedingagainandineedyoutocomeandpickmeup." your girlfriend word vomited so fast you couldn't make out a single word of what she was saying. "what? slower please lee." you pinched at the bridge of your nose, exhaling deeply.

"i sort of lost my license cause i got done speeding again and i need you to come and pick me up…please." leah repeated and your eyes widened as you finally understood, the silence on your side of the line causing leahs stomach to twist into knots.

"please don't be mad i know you're always onto me about it and i really think this is the thing i needed to learn my lesson but- hey are you laughing at me?" leah frowned as you doubled over, resting a hand on your knee as you were indeed laughing at the predicement.

"oi its not funny! i can't drive for three months now!" leah shouted and you could almost hear the stroppy pout which would be forming on the older girls lips.

"it is funny because i did in fact warn you of this time and time again and you never listened. i told you so!" you sung out with a grin, leah somewhat relieved you weren't upset with her but also not appreciating that your amusement was at her expense.

"too bad i wasn't there to flirt your way out of it huh?" you smiled smugly, rewarded with an annoyed huff and a half understood grumbled insult.

"sorry what was that? you're going to walk to training? wonderful i'll see you soon!" you teased, leah yelling out a hasty apology and practically begging you not hang up, something which was more than rare from your normally over confident girlfriend.

"please come get me! i'm stranded and it's really embarrassing, what if someone recognises me?" leah whined and you rolled your eyes that of course that was her biggest concern right now.

"why don't you just sit in the car then while you wait?" you sighed with a small smile, the silence on the other end telling you all you needed to know.

"oh leah....you didn't. not again!" "stop leah'ing me, you sound like my mum!" "oh i can't wait to tell your mum about this." "don't you fucking dare!"

this was not a one off occasion. leah determined to buy the most tricked out car she could had spared no expense on the bells and whistles, though one of these had time and time again meant she’d locked her keys inside the insanely posh vehicle.

"baby i warned you when you bought that stupidly expensive car that the self locking feature would bite you in the ass." "now is so not the time for an i told you so. just come and pick me up!" "come pick you up..." "right now?" "leah!" "sorry. please please please come pick me up gorgeous. i love you?"

"i'll get someone to drive me now. you know you could just get an uber leah." "what did i say about leah'ing me!" ~

"there she is." you pointed out your girlfriend with a grin as katie slowed down a little, leah sat on the curb with her hoodie pulled over her head, clearly attempting to hide herself but the glaringly obvious red and blue arsenal tracksuit did her no favors.

"she looks like that kid who runs away from home gets about five minutes down the road and calls for their parents to come pick them up!" beth laughed at your girlfriends sour expression as you pulled beside her, though you'd note that to the others in the back all pointing and teasing her.

"you had to bring a crowd?" leah grumbled, standing to her feet and crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at beth and laura in the back who were pulling faces at her.

"what’s to say other than we all just had to witness the miracle for ourselves!" katie beamed as you leaned over and whispered something quickly in her ear, the irish woman nodding subtly with a smirk.

"go on then speed demon in ya hop!" katie teased, leah reaching for the door handle as she suddenly jerked the car forward and away from her, the four of you grinning as leahs jaw tightened.

“come on leah, in we get!” laura called out much like you would encourage a dog to return to its owner, which was not lost on leah who gave the younger girl a frighteningly filthy look.

"come on woman we haven't got all day you know!" beth tapped at her wrist mocking the time as once again leah reached for the door and katie moved the car forward slightly, sending the four of you into hysterics like naughty school kids at the back of the bus.

"nah you know what fuck this! i'm walking." your girlfriend fumed, kicking at the back of katies car and storming off down the road. you were quick to unbuckle yourself, jumping out and racing off after her as the girls all called out for her to get in the car.

"baby, get in the car." you grabbed her hand, looking at her with an amused smile as the taller blonde simply glared back at you wordlessly as you wrapped yourself around her in a hug, her arms remaining stoic by her side as she refused to engage in it.

"relax the face, relax the face." you cooed sarcastically and stroked at her forehead and cheeks trying to smooth away the deep frown lines as the defender smacked your hands away but you saw a hint of a smile grace her features as you stole a quick kiss and tugged her back with you towards the car.

leahs frown deepened as she was met with slow claps and she slid in the back beside laura, flipping them all off and sinking down into her seat.

"good news mccabe. as my work wife you have now been promoted and unlocked a new daily task. driving us to training!" you grinned as the irish woman rolled her eyes playfully.

"only if you caress my thigh and hold my hand like you do with blondie darlin." katie smirked at leah through the rear view mirror as you agreed, reaching out to accept her offered hand, intertwing your digits over the middle console.

"mccabe if you'd like to ever walk again i'd suggest you not touch her, or else i may have to accidentally studs up tackle you in every single drill." leah warned seriously, katie only grinning and bringing your intertwined hands up to her mouth, kissing your knuckles as you sarcastically swooned and leah huffed.

"now now don't worry, i'm sure vivs happy to share." beth teased, holding her hand up toward leah expecting her to kiss it as the blonde simply shot her a murderous look and smacked it away.

this was going to be a long three months.

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #engwnt #woso blurbs #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc x reader #awfc

[hunnylagoon]

Right Where You Left Me

Pt 2: Jailbird

Ellie Williams x reader

I want to write a poem about you but I’m afraid it won’t be enough. I almost feel ashamed that I want you to fit into a word because we both know that you are beyond anything that can be put on paper.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood friends before you drifted apart. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find there way back to each other. While you both visit home for winter break, events unfold and it is no longer possible to avoid each other.

Warnings: Angst / homophobia / brief violence / reader has religious issues

Part one here!

Part three here!

Part four here!

I may have been wrong to say that I could never hate Ellie. Fuck she was vicious, in the most passive-aggressive way too. She's so sly about it that I can't even get mad without seeming irrational.

Winter break finally rolled around and I had yet to make any progress with Ellie it was whatever the opposite of progress is. If she wanted to hate me, that was fine, I could do the same, I could be petty. It's now December and all of this bullshit started in September, she could hardly be courteous.

Fuck her.

I had survived mid-terms and finals but the way Ellie was acting had me skipping happily towards the edge. She will wash a whole sink of dishes and leave just my fork, or Venmo request me if I ate one of her grapes. Everything had gotten worse when Dina, Abby, and Cat all left to visit their families for winter break leaving just Ellie and I, without the girls there to hold us to the house rules we were at each other's throats.

She was foaming at the fucking mouth to tear me apart. There was no level-headed Abby or fun-loving Dina, not even Cat who was just mellow. Just me and Ellie verbally abusing each other. "Fuck off, with your wild animal teeth," I spat, slamming the dish cupboard closed with a loud thud.

"Wild animal teeth?" She repeats "Wow, you're getting creative, I'll give you that," Ellie's gaze held a certain bitterness "Heard you were on your knees again last night and I don't mean praying."

My eye almost twitches at her words and it takes everything in me not to throw a ceramic bowl at her. I hated her, I hated her freckled face, and eyes as sharp as knives, just hearing her raspy voice, and seeing her sardonic smile made me want to keel over and let the earth wrap me in her flourishing greenery. I often wanted that to happen. I was trying to refrain from going home as I didn't want to spend the entire break with my family but I was starting to think nothing was better than this, I was set to leave the following day (Christmas Eve) anyway but I was seconds away from grabbing my bag and jumping into my car. "Can you just learn to be fucking civil?"

"Why would-

"Because we were sixteen years old when that stupid shit happened!" I spat "You're holding a grudge from when we were sixteen," I reiterated, searching her features for some sign that I'd gotten through to her.

"It's not like you've changed since any of that happened." She stands, unnervingly calm on the other side of the kitchen island. "You were always awful since we were young, always crying, always emotional, always explosive, my dad said you're like a birch tree, one spark and you burst into flames."

"Fuck off."

"You always had to have the attention," Her eyebrows furrow "Nothing was your fault, blame being fucking erratic and insane on your parents."

"You don't know my parents half as well as you think you do."

"What don't I know about them? They've been in my life as long as you have."

"Ellie, stop," I say, suddenly I'm taken away from the mood to fight, I just want to scream into my pillow.

"What?" She asks "You're going to say some shit like 'they aren't loving'  or 'you wouldn't get it' Please, enlighten me, what wouldn't I get?" She moves closer just an inch or so "Wow, your life sounds so hard, you have two parents who love each other and a huge fucking house, oh shit," Sarcasm drips from her tone "Maybe it's that trust fund that's taking a toll on you."

"Please, stop."

"You could commit every crime known to man and you would still be their pride and joy, there is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you-

"Here we go with your 'life is so fucking hard and I'm edgy and indie and I have a sad backstory that I'll bring up every second sentence even though I was seven when it happened' " I mock her.

She bites the inside of her cheek and I can tell that I've struck a nerve "You know when my lease-

"Don't even worry about it," I move out from the kitchen and begin towards my room, Ellie's eyes are trailing me "The minute my lease is up, I'm packing my shit and moving into student housing so I won't have to look at your fucking face while I'm eating!" I slam my bedroom door behind me.

I left that night, I couldn't bear the sound of her guitar strums, so repetitive it made me want to slam my head through the drywall.

You better believe that I cried my entire way home while blasting Julien Baker. My mother was pleasantly surprised to see me at her doorstep a day early, I knew Ellie would be coming down sometime tomorrow to spend the Holidays with her family, I didn't know when, I just knew that I didn't want to see her.

I never even told my parents that Ellie was my roommate and they hadn't heard it from Joel as they drifted when Ellie and I were fifteen.

My bedroom was exactly how I left, I cuddled into my twin bed that night sinking into the absolute silence of the the snowfall, with my dog Dusty curled at my side. I always loved the snow, the way it acted as soundproofing for the earth, when I was little I would just sit in the backyard so I could hear the birds sing in their purest and truest form.

Christmas Eve was dull to begin with, to say the least; my mom made Christmas tree-shaped waffles as she did every year, I was then dragged to an excruciatingly long church sermon. When we returned home I was sent to shovel the driveway, turns out visiting home from college doesn't excuse you from chores. I knew Ellie had arrived when I saw her grey sedan in Joel's driveway as well as Tommy's Range Rover. Bundled up in mittens and a hand-knitted scarf that Naomi gave to me I felt really tough giving the middle finger to Ellie wherever she was in Joel's house.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Elijah was cackling in the doorway. Dusty I happily bounding through the snow, paying to mind to my brother.

I immediately dropped my arm, trying to play nonchalantly "Uh, shoveling the driveway?"

His laughter only grew "You look so stupid," He huffed between cackles "You're standing in a foot of snow in the driveway giving Mr. Miller's house the middle finger in your cute little mitts."

"Say that louder, no one could hear you," I say, sarcastically.

"Hear ye, hear ye-

My eyes go wide and I drop the shovel to form a snowball and deck it at my brother "Shut up!"

"Ow!" He flinches, and his track and field hoodie from high school is now covered in powdered sleet. "Whatever," He yanks his hoodie off to shake the snow off of it "Just finish the driveway so we can watch a movie or something, I haven't seen you in months, Naomi and Aaron haven't shut up about you all holiday break."

I give him a mitted thumbs up before I try to speed run the shovelling, albeit slipping on black ice more than a few times. When I came back inside, I needed to change, my parka was dripping with snow that had melted into water.

I bundle up into sweatpants and an old soccer t-shirt. Being in my old room digs up memories pinned on my wall with bright thumbtacks year after year of photos of my soccer team, in every single one Ellie and I have our arms slung over each other. We're smiling wide and not focusing on the camera but on one another. I tear the picture away from the thumbtacks and throw them into a random shoe box that sits at the bottom of my closet. After that, I take down every artifact I have of Ellie, the drawings she made me, drafts of songs we wrote together, and t-shirts she left in my drawers, I throw it all into a Rubbermaid storage bin.

Though I leave the little wood carvings that Joel made for me alone.

My family's famous Christmas Eve dinner rolled around and I couldn't believe how excited I was, I'm not the best cook and despite me and my mother going through spats every other day, she was one hell of a good chef and I had spent months craving her honey roasted carrots and creamy mashed potatoes.

Please don't judge me when I say this, but we are the family that dresses up for dinners at home. Nothing black tie, just something a little dapper, one time I wore jeans to our family dinner and I was grounded for a week.

I finished zipping up my white sundress and I let my little sister tie a matching bow into my hair, when she saw what I was wearing she changed into her white dress which was ankle length while mine fell right above my knees.

"Oh, my sweet girls are matching again," My mom fawns over us "Let me get a picture of this cute little moment," I smile for the picture, and Naomi does the same, hooking an arm around my midriff. "Adorable," Mom looks at the picture before tucking her phone into her pocket "Now girls, please set the table."

Even though I hadn't been at home for months, setting the table was like muscle memory to me, Naomi put the placemats down, and then I did the dinner plate and salad plate, Naomi would place the napkins and cutlery then I would set glasses and pour everyone water from the pitcher. By the time we finished setting the table everyone aside from my mother and Elijah were at the table, early awaiting what was sure to be a filling dinner.

Slowly but surely my mom brought the dishes with Elijah, placing them all through the center of the dining table. After everything was placed my father, who sits at the head of the table cleared his throat, that was his signal for everyone to join hands. "Dear God, We gather today with grateful hearts to thank you for this food before us. We appreciate the effort and resources that have provided us with this nourishment. May this meal sustain our bodies and remind us of the many blessings in our lives. We are thankful for the love of family and friends who surround us and for the abundance we enjoy. Bless this food, our time together, and those who prepared it. May it strengthen us physically and spiritually. This is your body, this is your love. We thank you for feeding us with your gracious hands. In Jesus' name, we give thanks and pray. Amen."

"Amen," My family repeats before we all ravishingly fill our plates with chicken, maple-roasted mushrooms, buttered green beans, bread rolls, and mashed potatoes. I was eating so fast, I was shocked that I didn't spill anything on myself.

"So, have you met any cute boys at college?" My mother asks me, she is the only one eating politely "I'm sure you could get a real smart guy with those looks of yours."

My father nods "Just make sure he's Christian."

"Or catholic," My mother adds.

I laugh awkwardly in response, I take a sip of my water, the condensation making it slippery in my hands. Elijah gives me an odd look that goes unnoticed by my parents.

"I think we should drop off some bread or cookies or something to the Miller's, just something to say hi while Tommy and Maria are still there." My mom tells us, she isn't speaking to anyone in particular.

"Is Ellie there right now?" Aaron asks.

Elijah shrugs "Probably, her car is in the driveway."

Now Naomi is looking at me "We should invite her over for New Year's or something if she's staying for the rest of break."

My dad shakes his head "I don't know if that's a good idea," All eyes fall on him "It's just- I think she's a bit of a bad influence." He takes a swig of his wine and attempts to suppress a burp but fails. I press my lips into a thin line and look down at my plate to hold in my laughter, Elijah does the same beside me.

"I don't remember Ellie being a bad influence," Aaaron furrows his eyebrows, racking his brain to think of a time that she had done their family wrong.

"It's just that there were rumours of her having-" My father searches for the words "Unnatural tendencies I suppose, and I tried to talk to Joel about it but he got defensive and said that she didn't need fixing, that's how I lost my best fishing buddy."

My mom looks at the discomfort on all of her children's faces "I mean, we all need a bit of fixing."

Dad is quick to catch on "Oh, yeah, of course, I mean it's not just Ellie," He fumbles over his words "And it's not her fault that she's that way, I think It's because she lost her mother when she was young so she got confused about the parental roles, Joel never remarried and he didn't date around much so Ellie didn't have a proper mother figure, it's not her fault she's a dyke and there's still time to fix it if she wants to choose the right path."

Stillness falls over the table, I had never heard silence quite this loud. Even my mother is at a loss for words. All of my siblings are darting our eyes at one another, we don't utter a single word but we understand each other clearly 'Dad actually said it'.

He noticed this and tried to backtrack on his words "I'm not a bad guy, I mean we've all read the bible cover to cover, we know it's a sin. I'll wrap this up, you all know that we love you no matter what and all I'm saying is I'm glad we could distance ourselves away from it."

"Hey Dad, did you watch the Canucks game last week?" Elijah swoops in to change the topic. It's too late, a wave of sickness has already overtaken me.

While my family discusses nothing in particular, trying to ignore what Dad said, I am sick to my stomach, I push my plate away and prop my elbow the the table for my hand to support my head. I am nearly shaking. My dull eyes peer across the table and meet my father's drowsy gaze.

"Honey, are you feeling alright?" My mom pauses whatever conversation she is enwrapped in.

I don't respond, I don't know how.

My family's eyes find a resting place on my figure. Mom pushes herself away from her chair and walks over to me, she places one hand between my shoulder blades, the other takes my cold hand and she slowly rubs a circle on my back to comfort me. "Sweetness, whatever is repressed inside, say it, let it out, we're all family."

Naomi nods in agreement, her wide eyes full of concern. "I don't know how to say it," I tell them.

"Air it out," My dad says, finishing off his glass of wine and pouring himself another "Today is the perfect day, tomorrow is the birth of Jesus, a fresh start."

My heart is racing faster than it ever has before, faster than when I broke my wrist in Ellie's backyard or when I had been on a rollercoaster for the first time. "I like girls," I say, my voice is quiet, and my three words take my family with silence. My mother freezes and takes a step back, her comforting hands leaving me.

"You're joking," My dad scoffs "Tell me this is a joke and you're normal."

"I can't," My voice cracks and I can already tell that the tears are oncoming. I think briefly back to Ellie's words 'There is nothing you could say or do that would make them hate you' if only she could see what was about to happen.

"All of those sleepovers with Ellie?" He is disgusted, his face contorting with horror "Were you dating her?"

"no-

"How can I believe anything you say, you lied to us for nineteen years when you knew you were sick."

"Dad, I'm not sick-

"How many sinful acts have you done under this roof?"

"None, I swear," I shake my head, it took less than a minute for me to be filled with regret at my words. I shouldn't have even come home for the holidays, actually, I never should've found Dina's listing and jumped at the deal.

"Get out," Any light tone in my dad's voice is gone, replaced by pure resentment.

"What?"

"You heard me, get out."

"Dad, it's Christmas Eve-

"Get out!" His voice rumbles through the dining room like thunder "I thought we fixed this phase when we sent you to boarding school."

"Please, dad-

"Get up and get out or I'm going to make you,"

"Fine- make me," Tears prick in my eyes but I cross my arms trying to muster up that false coolness Ellie is so good at feigning.

My dad slams his glass down so hard that it shakes the table, and the partially empty wine bottle my parents had been nursing all night is knocked over by the abruption, tipping over the deep red liquor to travel down the tablecloth and drip onto what was once my pure white dress. "Get up!" He grabs a fistful of my hair and I scream from the shock of pain. He yanks me off my chair and my face slams against the hardwood when his arm slumps, impact heavy from the sudden drop, it doesn't take long for my nose to start bleeding. He drags me to the door pushing it open; my siblings don't do anything they're petrified in horror and my mother begins to cry, covering her eyes from the scene before her.

My dad doesn't stop at the door, I thrash on the ground and he pulls me over both of my hands trying to pry his away from the roots of my hair, he drags me into the snow, finally releasing me. I shake as my hand gently finds the way to my burning scalp where I fully believe he has pulled out clumps of my hair with his harsh and unforgiving grasp.

From the doorway the rest of my family watches, Naomi has a hand covering her mouth her doe eyes brimming with tears of her own. My father disappeared into the house, it didn't take long to see what he was doing he slammed the window to make the bedroom open and began to throw all of my belongings out of the window. My pictures, my old soccer uniform, armfuls of clothes from my old beaten dresser, candles, books, paints, and shredded posters were torn straight off my wall.

"Dad, stop, I'm sorry, I'll get better!" I am on my knees, hands clasped together pleading with him. My skin is burning from the contact with the snow, I know that it must be a horrific sight to behold. White sundress, stained with wine, tangled hair, red-tinged skin, puffy eyes and incoherent sobs.

The snow makes everything so quiet the only sound travelling through the night are my sobs. I can no longer see my father in my bedroom, he is coming back down and somehow that is worse, he pushes past my family and throws the presents I was supposed to receive on Christmas morning beside me, I flinch at the movement.

"I'm sorry!" I plead like I'm bargaining with the Grimm Reaper for my life "Give me a job and I'll do it, just tell me what to do to get better!" The screaming carries through the night, alerting the neighbours in what was supposed to be a calm and quiet neighbourhood. Across the street, Joel turns on his porch light, squinting his eyes at the scene on the opposing lawn and trying to make sense of it. "I want to get better!" I shake with every sob. I could hear my dogs barking from the loud noises.

My dad shakes his head "You're too far gone, I didn't raise a fucking dyke," He is almost crying himself, he doesn't mourn for the daughter that he has but the daughter that could've been. The daughter who donned white every Sunday for church and settled down with a nice family man, a daughter who was holy but in this moment I am the purest form of holiness, born again from the violence of my father.

"Dad, I was created in God's image, why would he create his child to be this way if it was so wrong?"

"You're a fucking mistake is what you are," He seethes "Get off my property or I'm calling the cops."

"You still have my bags!" I scream and I watch him retreat to get them "Are you going to do anything at all?" I search my family for any sign of life but they all avert their eyes from mine. My father comes back out, and he throws my purse and suitcase on the lawn, this time both of them hit me, talking about kicking someone when they're down.

My dad begins to usher the family inside "I never want to see you again, get your ass up and start working, I'm not paying for you to fuck around with women instead of getting an education."

"That's it?" I cry "You won't come to my wedding or meet my kids? What about my funeral?"

"Not as long as you're with a woman." With that, he slams the door behind him and locks it. I let out another guttural sob, I've already cried so much that it's beginning to hurt within my stomach. I take a deep and shaky breath in, wiping the tears away from my eyes with my freezing hands, I'm sure to catch hypothermia if I don't warm up. I look up to see my neighbours all around either watching from their window or in the Miller family's case, the front porch. I'm sure that someone has already called the police.

"Let me in, I'm sorry!" I scramble off the ground and begin to bang on the door. Shaking the handle "Let me in!" This goes on for longer than I would've liked, I hammer on the door and scream as loud as I can but they all ignore me. Eventually, I stand by the window and slam my hands on it "Let me in or give me my fucking dog, you can't take care of him!"

I knew I was fucked when I heard sirens. It only made sense for the neighbours to call the cops at this disturbance.

I'm going to do you all a favour and tell you some useful information; when the police arrive and you don't wanna seem guilty, don't try to drive away from the scene because you might just end up getting handcuffed and shoved into the back of a police car for your childhood bestfriends family to watch from their front row seats.

"Prison life isn't for me," I wallow as I press myself against the bars of the holding cell. There are two other women in the cell with me and they both snigger. One of their names is Lucia, and she has bronze skin and brown hair so dark that it almost looks black with gold hoop earrings the size of my head, I don't know the other woman's name but she looks significantly older and has stringy blonde hair, the wrinkles of her face drooping.

"Honey, this isn't prison, you'll live another hour," Lucia sits on the uncomfortable bench, her arms crossed, she's kind of hot to be blunt.

"You reek of liquor though," Blondie cackles and I catch a glimpse of her rotting yellow teeth, what's the opposite of pearly whites? Golden nuggets? Something like that.

"Because I got wine spilled on me," I retort. I had been crying before they even placed me in the cell, wailing so loud that I was annoying the officers. I was so upset and starved for affection that I hugged the officer who detained me, babbling incoherently about how my life was ruined, I don’t even blame them for arresting me, I looked like a crackhead trying to break into a nice suburban home. “I'm not drunk."

"Could've fooled me," Lucia smirks, she's wearing a black tank top and skinny jeans. I wasn't a fan of skinny jeans but she was converting me.

I fell asleep hugging myself on one of the uncomfortable metal benches with chipped blue paint, when I woke up, it was Christmas, even though it didn't feel like it. I saw the snowfall outside of the windows on the other side of the cells. Lucia had told me just before she was released that they had the right to hold you longer over holidays, I wanted to weep all over again.

Blondie got removed from the cell too and I was all alone. The only thing that kept me sane was pretending I was Katniss or Lucy Gray, if they had survived the Hunger Games, I could survive this. I genuinely thought my life was over and I was getting sent to prison for hammering on my dad's door and screaming.

With each hour that ticked by, my profound sense of loneliness only grew. The sounds of distant laughter flitted through the hall and I am reminded of the world that lies beyond the metal bars. I wonder what my family is doing at this moment, every voice that I hear acts as a reminder of the love I had jeopardized. I lost Ellie, I lost Conner, and now I had lost my family.

I think about praying to god for a moment though I discard the thought. If he was real why did he let that happen to me? Maybe forgiveness and redemption were not necessary.

"Crybaby, call someone to pick you up," Officer Reid who initially arrested me and interrogated me began to unlock the cell, "Charges are dismissed." He had been calling me Crybaby since I was stuffed in the back of the police car and wailing uncontrollably.

"Like for real?"

He was in fact, for real. I was brought to a landline phone and my hands acted faster than my head, dialling the number of someone I would trust with my life, I just prayed that the number hadn't changed.

After making my call I was told to go to a weird booth thing to collect my effects, where an old and very judgmental woman dumped my few belongings out of an envelope. I wish I knew the technical names for this stuff but it's not like I've been arrested before this one off occasion. She looked at each of the items, stating what it was while she took inventory of it. "Smartphone, lipgloss, a single gold earring, and a cross necklace," She marks something down and then turns the paper around and holds out a blue pen for me to take "Sign here."

My phone had died already, I was missing an earring, and the cross had failed me, all I had left to rely on was my cover girl lipgloss. I sat in that stark grey room for what seemed like hours, everyone seemed miserable as I am, at least I wasn't the only person having a not-so-merry Christmas.

Holy shit, I was still disgusting. I was sticky and freezing, still in the wine-ruined white dress, there was still dried blood on my face despite my pestering Lucia to help me get it off. My hair is tangled, the bow that my sister had tied in lost somewhere in the snow. I haven't looked in a mirror but I know I look rough from the side glances that everyone is casting me. I can't imagine the dark bags beneath my red, puffy eyes to be any sort of appealing.

The sterile waiting room is beginning to get on my nerves, I flinch at every movement and hold onto hope that every person walking through the door is the person I'm waiting on. I try my best to avert my eyes from the clock so time doesn't drag on any longer than it already is.

By the time Joel gets here, the sun is beginning to set, his eyes frantically search the room until they land on me, I'm already standing up and walking toward him. "Kiddo, are you okay?"

My lip quivers and it feels like every awful thing I've ever felt is going to seep through my teeth. My head falls onto his chest but this time I don't cry, I think I've run out of tears "I have nothing ahead of me."

Joel doesn't ask questions, he just hugs me in return, resting his chin on the top of my head, there is the comfort I had been so desperately searching for.

He signs release papers and he guides me to his red Ford Explorer. When I called him I asked him to bring me shoes as I was barefoot when I was detained, being the number one dad that he was, he brought a reusable grocery store tote bag, containing a hoodie, sneakers, fuzzy socks, sweatpants and a bag of my favourite chips. I slip the sweats on underneath my dress while the hoodie goes overtop, I awkwardly unzip it and shimmy it off, stuffing it into the tote bag.

The drive back to his house begins and he turns on the radio, trying to make lighthearted chatter "Thanks for coming to get me," I say, my voice is quiet and I pull my knees to my chest like as I tend to do when I get nervous "You can just drop me off at my car and I'll be out of your way."

"Sorry, kiddo," He says, eyes focused on the road "You're staying with me tonight, I don't want you driving these roads in the dark and it'll be good for you to have a hot shower and a warm meal, get some sleep somewhere that's not a holding cell."

"It's just that-

"If you still want to leave in the morning that's up to you but you shouldn't end your Christmas alone," Each word seems so genuine "And you know I would gladly have you stay with me three hundred and sixty-five days a year."

I look at him, a soft melancholic smile on my face, "Thank you," I say.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

A sigh falls from my lips "What happened to all of my stuff that was left on the lawn?"

"Tommy and Ellie brought it all inside."

Ellie brought it back inside? Did she actually give a shit or was this something her dad ordered her to do? "Did my dad say anything to you?"

Joel shakes his head "Maria went barging on his door, those two were in a screaming match for a good two minutes before he locked the door on her. Hasn't been outside since, everyone in the neighbourhood has been coming by to ask what happened."

"Even Sharron?" I ask Joel, wrinkling my nose in distaste.

"Even Sharron," He solidifies. Sharron was the grouchy crone of the street, shutting down every party, cussing out teenagers from her porch, and yelling at barking dogs "She said she was worried about you." The windshield wipers painted rhythmic patterns across the glass, clearing a path through the soft snow that continued to fall.

"She's not worried about me, she's worried I'm on drugs and I'll break into her musty home to steal all of her hummels."

Joel huffs a laugh "I can't believe that I used to let her babysit you and Ellie."

"Me neither, you should be paying for my therapy." I tease.

He chuckles at my words, "So you're majoring in wildlife biology?"

"You remembered what I wanted to major in?"

"Of course I did."

"Hey, Mookie!" Tommy wraps his arms around me the moment I set foot in the door. He's called me Mookie since I was a little girl, it started when I couldn't pronounce monkey and thus Mookie was born. "Let me get a good look at you," He pushes me back just the slightest hands clasped on my shoulders "Look at that bruise you've got on your cheek, looking awful tough, like those greasers you used to read about."

"Look at that, Mookie grew up," Maria greets me with a warm smile, pushing Tommy away to hug me "Good to see you made it through prison alive," She jests.

Joel's house is exactly how it was when I left.

The air carried the familiar scent of firewood and lavender incense. In the living room, an inviting fireplace stood as the heart of the home. Its gentle crackle and the dancing flames provided a soothing backdrop to the overstuffed couches adorned with cozy blankets and throw pillows, worn from years of shared family movie nights. A well-loved rug covered the wooden floor, its pattern a mosaic of memories and spills easily forgiven and of course, a coffee table hand-crafted by Joel and intricately carved.

The shelves lining the walls were a treasure trove of family history. Photographs in mismatched frames captured smiling faces frozen in time, chronicling the evolution of Ellie through the years. A collection of well-read books, their spines creased and pages worn, stood proudly, offering a glimpse into the literary adventures that had unfolded within those walls.

The kitchen, the heart of many childhood homes, held the lingering aroma of Christmas dinner. The countertops, scarred from countless meals prepared and shared, were a testament to the love that had gone into creating family dinners. A worn wooden table in the center of the room bore witness to the countless conversations, celebrations, and moments of solace shared over shared meals.

"You know what, when I was around your age, I spent my fair share of time in the cooler, good to see you're taking after me," Tommy winks and gives me a hard pat on the back. Neither of them acknowledges the reason behind last night's events and somehow it feels worse than talking about it.

"We've just finished up making dinner, I'm sure you're hungry," Maria smiles softly, taking my hand into her calloused one.

"Yeah, I'm starving," I smile in return and trail behind the blonde woman to the dining table.

All of the plates are laid out with portions of food on each one, Ellie is sitting alone, spooning mashed potato into her mouth while she texts someone, she glances up at me and offers nothing more than a tight-lipped smile and awkward wave before going back to her phone. Tommy comes by with a tray of garlic butter rolls and uses tongs to add more onto my plate "Don't think I've forgotten how much you love these."

I grin up at him, I'm sitting in the same chair I sat in all those years ago when I Ellie and I would settle down after spending all day in the sun, Joel would ask us what we wanted for dinner and almost every time we would shout hotdogs.

"Good to have you back," Joel nods to me "House always felt a little empty without you."

I always felt a little empty without this house "Good to be back," I smear some mashed potato onto Tommy's famous garlic butter bread rolls.

I feel almost sick with nostalgia as I look around the dining room, Joel still had Ellie's crafts from elementary school hung up and if you look closely, you find little clues that I've left behind; proof that I once existed as a girl beneath this roof. There's a dent in the wall from the time I stood on my chair to catch a spider and accidentally fell over, my head hitting right into the wall, Ellie was laughing too hard to help me.

"So what school do you go to?" Maria asks me, washing down her pot roast with some ice water.

"Northridge actually," At my words, Ellie's head perks up, she's looking dead at me with a look of fear in her eyes.

"Oh, Ellie goes there!" Tommy smiles "She never mentioned that you do too."

Ellie is silently pleading with me, I know she doesn't want me to tell her family that she's been borderline tormenting me as my roommate and sending me to bed with tears in my eyes. I didn't plan on telling them anyway "That's funny, I guess we just keep missing each other."

Joel set up an air mattress in Ellie's room, that's when it became clear to me that he had no idea just how bad the fallout was between us. I hate to say that I missed her room and all of the memories we shared in it.

Ellie's bedroom resembled something of a teen guy who'd never gotten laid before. She had a navy comforter, her shelves were lined with comics and novels, I know for a fact that she'd read every single one of them. Her desk was always a mess, covered in pages of poetry and sketches that she had torn out from her journal. Almost every inch of her walls is covered in posters of bands, movies and her nerdy video games.

I was fresh out of the shower, finally in my clean clothes that I had dug out of my suitcase. I got to charge my phone too, there was an overwhelming number of messages.

D-Manz: HAPPY CHRISTMAS BITCH!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU AND CAN'T WAIT TO PARTY WHEN WE GET BACK

Jesse: Merry Christmas, hope your day isn’t shit! 😁😁😁

Riley: Merry Christmas! Hope you're having fun at your new school!

Abs: Merry Christmas and stay safe!

Kayla: Missing you girl ☹️ so excited for that staff party!

Kit-Cat: Merry Christmas, don't have too much fun without me

Yara: Merry Christmas ❤️ this probably isn't the time but I was hoping you could send over your notes from the last conservation lecture, just wanna text you before I forget!

566-460-4374: I got your number from Kyle, this is Roderick, I saw you last night and wanted to check up on you, hope everything is okay and merry Christmas.

Lindsey: Hey, haven't talked to you in a while but my parents said some stuff went down, just wanna make sure you're okay.

Ellie: Lmk if you need a ride back to our place

Ellie: Don't know if you can even see this but I got all of your stuff off the lawn, I promise it's safe 👍

Naomi: I'm so sorry

Naomi: I didn't think that would happen

Naomi: I didn't know what to do

Naomi: I love you

Aaron: U good?

Naomi: Please don't hate me, I'm sorry I didn't do anything

Elijah: Sorry but I wish you didn't tell Dad that

Naomi: I'll try to talk to Dad

Elijah: Hope you're safe

Elijah: Call me when you can

Still, there wasn't any word from either of my parents. I replied returning well wishes and assuring everyone that I was okay, I turned my phone onto Do Not Disturb and began to watch the Hunger Games on my phone. The room would've been pitch black if it wasn't for the blue light from my screen and the gentle beams of moonlight gliding through the window.

Ellie walks into the room after she finishes with her shower, she's in sweatpants and an old hoodie that she got from a rodeo, I had the same one, and we bought them together. I glance up at her before looking back at my movie and pulling the quilt further up my body. "You still like the Hunger Games?"

"Yeah," I say, being as brief as possible.

"You should take my bed and I'll sleep on the air mattress," Ellie says while she ties her hair into a low ponytail.

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"Seriously," Ellie is standing awkwardly at the foot of her bed, waiting for me to do something.

I shut my phone off and turned on my other side to face away from her "Just go to bed."

Ellie runs her hands down her face in frustration, she's starting to feel like an asshole "Please take the bed, it's the least I can do." I ignore her so she speaks again "I am begging you," She tells me bluntly "I feel like a dick and it would make me feel better if you just took the bed."

"You are a dick," I answer, she should've seen this response coming from a mile away.

"Please take the bed."

I sit up to look at her, frustration now boiling up inside of me "You're going to be nice now because you feel bad for me?"

"That's not why-

"It is actually," I tell her "This will last for a few days and then we'll go home and you'll be a cunt all over again, fucking keeping a list of everything I lay a finger on so you can say it's my fault if it breaks." She bites the inside of her cheek, that's her tell. Every time she does that I can tell that I've gotten under her skin. "You'll still act like you don't know me and I'm just some weird girl who thinks the world of you, I know what you say to those girls you have over, the walls aren't that thick." My insides ache from all of the screaming and crying of the past couple of days "And I know that I hurt you and I've told you a million times over that I'm sorry, you don't get to start having empathy for me now."

Ellie's silent again, she can't seem to find the words, so instead she slips under the covers of her bed, giving up. Minutes pass us, we've slept in this room together a thousand times but this time it's different, we don't share her queen bed and stay up all night watching the walking dead and talking shit about people at our school, we lay in the uncomfortable silence. We're grown but in this moment I still feel like a child searching for her mother's hand to guide her, I feel like my teeth still need to fall out so brighter, stronger ones can take their place, that the baby fat has yet to shed from my bones.

"I didn't know that you liked girls," Ellie said, breaking the silence "And I shouldn't have assumed that stuff about your parents." I don't respond to her, though she knows that I heard her. "I lied that night when you moved in."

"What?"

"I got all bitchy and said that you don't even cross my mind, I was lying," She's confessing to me as if I'm a priest "There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't think about you."

I'm not doing well.

I want nothing more than to crawl into bed next to Ellie and just hug her until I fall asleep but the resentment I've garnered for her these past months refrains me.

"I don't know if you ever knew this, but back in high school I had a bit of a crush on you," She says and my break hitches in my throat "Hey, you there?"

'I don't know if you ever knew this but I turned myself inside out trying not to be in love with you.' I don't say that, instead, I say "Goodnight, Ellie, Merry Christmas."

"Goodnight," She mutters, and like me, she turns her body to face away from me.

I don't feel mature in the slightest, I'm kept awake, haunted by shame and embarrassment. Ellie had seen me only one night prior, on my knees begging for love. We may be cold and calculated to one another now but I remember when she was a little girl who overwatered her plants because she didn't know how to stop giving.

TAG LIST I just tagged whoever wanted a part two: @elliesaesp @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @elliesaturnsoftdrink @mikellie @melanie-watermelon @skylerwhitwyo

#ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson #tlou #ellie williams x reader fluff #ellie williams angst #ellie williams au #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #joel and ellie #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #joel miller #ellie williams x reader angst #angst #childhood best friends to lovers #childhood friends

[whoahoney]

An Attempt at a One Night Stand

Eddie Munson x SingleMom!Reader

Part 2

Summary: Reader is a single mother spending an evening at the Hideout with her friends when she meets the lead singer of a band called Corroded Coffin. He buys her a drink and makes her feel ways she hasn’t felt in a very very long time…

Content Warnings: AFAB/Fem!Reader, NSFW(Minors, DNI), Smut, use of alcohol & cigarettes, descriptions of depression, angst, descriptions of a romantic partner’s passing, fluff, female masturbation, nipple play, light choking, p in v sex, protected sex (WRAP IT), more plot than porn

A/N: My first published smut, don’t look at me. 😂🥲

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie Munson had it bad.

He met the prettiest girl in the world at a gig at the Hideout, the only person in the crowd that sang along with him the whole time. He knew he wanted to buy her a drink when she sang Ozzy into her empty bottle, pulling laughs from her friends while he eyes continued to flicker back to his.

Eddie loved her carefree nature about her, her energy magnetic. ‘I have to know this girl.’ He thought—her every movement fascinating him.

After some encouragement from his friends, he worked up the nerve to saunter up to her table, applying his own confident and easygoing facade the best he could. She was surrounded by an entourage of friends, all sets of eyes suddenly trained on him, halting all conversation.

Eddie glanced at each girl briefly before nodding to them, “Ladies,” then he looked at her again. Her eyes were glossed in wonder and inebriation at the boy who looked at her so intently.

“I, uh, I’m Eddie, and I couldn’t help but notice your show stopping performance tonight, and, uh, wanted to buy you a drink.” He smiled softly, his heart hammering away in his chest and sweat trickling down his temple.

She looked at each one of her friends, widening her eyes in excitement and nodding at the one on her left, a silent agreement. “I’d love that.” She stood, walking over to the bar ahead of him.

“I’m, Y/n, by the way.” She said as they settled into two seats. Eddie nodded, repeating her name inside, trying it on and getting used to the feeling it gave him. “Well, Y/n, what do you drink?” He asked, gesturing to the shelves of liquor behind the bar. Y/n’s eyes darted over the labels ahead of her, trying to focus on one at a time when she decided against whiskey.

“I’ll just have another beer.” She shrugged, thankful for the red lighting of the neon light she was seated next to. “No problem. Hey, Sal,” He called the bartender from across the room for service, ordering two bud lights and turning his attention back to her, leaning his chin on a ringed hand.

“You ever been here before?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. Y/n shook her head as their drinks were served. “What gave me away?” She shrugged, taking a sip.

“It’s rare a group of girls is sat up in here for a few hours.” He smiled, taking a drink himself.

“Are you implying that you’re here all the time?” She quirked an eyebrow inquisitively, her mouth gaping in sarcasm. Eddie looked like a fish out of water for a moment before she started giggling. “I’m just messing with you,” She pushed his shoulder playfully.

Eddie let out a relieved laugh, “Oh, god, sweetheart. I didn’t know what to do there. I swear I’m not here all the time, but I’m here a lot! As you can see I play music here, which I do pretty often...” He said with a shrug and tight smile.

“Well, I may have to come back if the talent is this nice every time, I really enjoyed the show—we all did.” She shrugged, looking to her lap to bite back a smile. “Thanks, y’know next time if you perform like you did in the crowd, I’ll have to pull you up on stage with me.” He chuckled, earning another blush from the girl across from him. “I bet you’re fun on car rides, huh?” He asked and nodded at her in understanding.

Y/n scoffed, “I mean, you could say that, I’ve had a lot of practice with car karaoke and all.” She giggled. “You had me smiling the whole time, I know performances like that take practice! It was perfect.” He said, like it was the simplest thing. Y/n sunk her teeth further into her lip to suppress another pathetic giggle.

“So what do you like, huh? What’s your story?” Eddie asked. Y/n took a swig and searched for the best way to share without sharing. “I.. work two jobs, during the day I'm a clerk at a book shop and most nights during the week I waitress at a grill.”

“I mean your hopes and dreams, babe, but also nice to know you’re a hardworkin’ woman, I respect that.” He said, raising his bottle to her before taking another drink. Y/n rolled her eyes and unsuccessfully repressed a smile. “I don’t really have any.”

“Dreams? C’mon, I know you can think big. If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?” He asked as if it were that simple.

“Uh, pfft... Damn. Hold on.” She nervously laughed as her mind blanked, no possibilities coming to the surface no matter how hard she tried. “Take your time, you got it.” He encouraged, nodding gently. Y/n looked ahead instead of at his distracting puppy dog eyes. “I don’t think my passion is gonna lie in a career, you know? I just wanna be able to find something that allows me to make enough money in order to get by and live a happy life and have good experiences with the people I love.”

Eddie wore a warm smile on his face as he scratched the bottom corner of his mouth, “You’re real cute, you know that?” He smiled, leaning forward to brush her hair away from her face.

Y/n avoided his eyes on her as they trailed down her profile; her lips, chin, neck and chest as she tilted the bottle back. When she finished she shrugged, “I’ve been told a time or two, what about you, huh? Did you know you’re real cute?” She flashed him a look and a smile, her words sending him into flattered laughter as he shook his head and drank again.

“I had a feeling I was real cute, but no one really tells me, sweetheart, so, thanks.” He winked and leaned in to get closer to her, reaching for her hand that rested on the bar beside them. “So, what’s your game, here, huh?” She asked as he played with her fingers, his eyes darting up to hers questioningly, “What do you mean?” He asked, unsure of the context of the question.

“I mean, are you trying to play the long game and take your time before you try to get in my pants or are you trying to take me out of here to fuck me in the back ally as soon as possible?” She asked bluntly with big sparkling doe eyes and then took a sip of her drink.

Eddie’s eyes widened, not in embarrassment, but because he didn’t know he came off that way, “Babe if I’m being honest, I didn’t even get this far in my head when I decided I needed to talk to you,” he said earnestly, leaning closer to her to talk over the other band now playing in the bar. “So, I guess to answer your question, I wanna play whatever game you’re playing, if that’s cool.” He shrugged easily, as though hiding his feelings wasn’t on his agenda.

Y/n sat back with her mouth gaping, running her eyes over his frame again like she’s just seeing him for the first time. “Ohh…” is all she could manage, shyness taking over briefly.

She was used to getting hit on in bars, the nights she made it out of the house during the month when she was able to leave Danny without problems. Love had been different since Adam passed. Y/n didn’t think love like that happened twice in the same lifetime—the most beautiful, head spinning love that embraced you and never wavered.

Adam and Y/n had been childhood friends, who soon grew into high school lovers. Adam and Y/n did everything together, truly two halves of a whole.

And when they got pregnant with Danny at the end of their junior year, they thought the curveball thrown their way would be the hardest it got, knowing they’d have each other for the rest of time.

Or until death.

When Adam was 18, he was involved in a car accident near the end of the pregnancy, passing at the scene. Y/n—17, pregnant, and practically widowed—swore off love, feeling as though letting another man into her life in Adam’s place was betrayal.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t lonely. Sure, parenting alone isn’t for the weak, but she had her friends for emotional support, she didn’t need a man for that, and any fun thing she could think of doing either involved her son or her best friend. The more time went by, the more she convinced herself she could do it all alone.

So, over the last couple years, she settled for one night stands, sloppy goodnight kisses, handing out fake names and phone numbers like Halloween candy. But tonight was different.

Emotional intimacy of any kind was uncomfortable, the only man she was able to stay honest and open about her feelings with was one she’d known for a decade before she let him in her pants. Eddie had known her for two seconds and was upfront about his thoughts with so much ease it made her start setting up bricks.

“I-I, wasn’t expecting that answer.” She laughed awkwardly and took another sip, the bottle now over half gone. Eddie smirked and shook his head, his eyes never leaving her being for more than two seconds at a time.

“What was the answer you were expecting?” He asked. Y/n scanned around the room, landing on her friends who looked like they were having a wonderful time with Eddie’s friends who now occupied seats at their table. “I dunno, but no one’s ever been upfront about it, let alone put the ball in my court.” She said it like it was no big deal, but Eddie knew. He knew he got through to her. “Ugh, I hate basketball.” He smiled, trying to get her to relax again, he likes when she’s in control of the conversation. She mirrored his smile and rolled her eyes, the buzz of the current beer working over her head.

“So, uh, how’d you get into music?” She asked, steering the conversation another direction, which Eddie smiled at, knowing he was getting his shot. “I love that you asked that,” He blushed, a proud smile working its way onto his face, “When I moved in with my uncle around eleven or so years ago, he played a lot of Woody Guthrie, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, you know? The originals—the good stuff!” He emphasized; the passion evident by the gleam in his eyes and his movements, which she loved, “I got really into them, like, wore out the needle on the record player. I had that thing going all the time. Well, one day, I got home from a particularly shitty day at school, and there was an acoustic guitar on my bed.” He smiled nostalgically at the memory. “Wayne got me started and I’ve been in love with music ever since.” He shrugged.

Y/n nodded, her heart smiling at his ability to be soft, “That's such a sweet story, you and your uncle must be really close! That was so thoughtful of him.” She awed, Eddie blushed a deeper shade of red as he took a swig of his drink, nodding in agreement, “He’s great, honestly the best man I’ve ever known.” He chuckled nervously, looking at his hands and hating himself for the conversation turning this way so quickly. ‘Too much, dude, c’mon..’ he scolded himself.

“So do you still listen to Willie and Waylon or did you kick the old boys to the curb when you adopted Metallica and Ozzy into your repertoire?” She asked, which soothed his worries immediately. He chuckled and shook his head, “Oh, of course I still listen to them, I couldn’t abandon my roots like that!” He nudged her arm with his, his heart leaping when she joined in his laughter. “You listen to any old cowboy country?” He asked.

Y/n nodded, “I’m familiar with those old cowboys of yours. Except I’m more of a Johnny Cash fan.” She shrugged, taking him for a Willie Nelson enthusiast. “Let me guess, Folsom Prison Blues just really has a hold over you?” He teased, though he was right. “I can casually enjoy songs about prison and crime, alright?” She played into it.

Y/n liked Eddie, that was never a question, but was she afraid? No, but kind of intimidated? Yeah, that’s more like it. She shrugged off her denim jacket, leaving her in her tank top and showing off her tattoos.

“Nice ink, care to give me a tour?” He asked, nodding to her body, most definitely not looking at her tattoos but rather her chest and abdomen, wondering if there were more under the clothes.

She smiled, no guy ever taking the time to notice and ask, the most attention they ever got were ‘Ugh, tatted girls are my favorite’ or ‘do you have any tattoos in other places?’ Eddie may be the first guy to refer to her artwork respectfully. It made her want to show him more than she should.

She pointed to the art on her forearms, the sun on one side, the moon on the other, “These were my first and second,” she nodded, turned to show him the back of her bicep, where a bundle of flowers sat in a broken vase, “this is the third,” she pulled up the side of her shirt to show the bottom of an expansive art piece on her ribs, “fourth,”

Eddie watched on intently, trying to commit them all to memory. She turned to the wall, gathering her hair up in a ponytail to show the fifth tattoo on the back of her neck, “Number five may have hurt the most,” she mentioned as he took in the detail of the moth, slightly bummed when she turned back around. “And six through ten are unable to be shown at this time,” she giggled, picking her beer back up and tilting it back til it was empty.

Before Eddie answered, he turned to order her another, a smile rising to her cheeks at the gesture until she scolded herself, ‘Oh, two beers, what a dreamboat.’

Expecting some sleazy question about when he’d get to see the rest, she was surprised when all he asked was, “So how old were you when you got your first two?” Her eyebrows shot up. A real question?

“I was 16.” she nodded, his eyes widening, “Damn, who was your artist?? I couldn’t get anyone to tattoo me till I was 17, and even then it didn’t turn out right, I was so bummed.” He said strongly, his inflection making her laugh.

“He was my friend's brother,” she shrugged, “So does this mean you’re gonna give me a tattoo tour?” She couldn't resist through giggles. Eddie raised his eyebrows at her, “Oh, I thought you’d never ask, angel.” He said with a smile that could’ve been mistaken for devious, but really that was just Eddie.

He quickly shrugged off his vest and jacket like she had, holding out his arm and turning it slowly to point out his bats. Y/n felt heat rising in her stomach at the sound of him explaining the backstory behind them all, some of which he drew himself, others he found in fantasy novels or had them drawn up by his friend at the shop he frequents now that he isn’t a minor.

“And I love this little demon dude right here,” he said to the area by his collarbone, his hand holding his neckline open more than needed, the fleshy expanse of his chest looking delicious with cinnamon colored freckles sprinkled across it.

Y/n leaned forward to look at the detail of the crazy face it made, laughing easily and looking back up to Eddie; it definitely felt like him. “This one is my most recent, after my favorite Metallica song—“ he rolled up his sleeve to show the puppet master on his forearm,

“Master of Puppets?” She asked before he could say it, his head snapped up to her with a surprise grin, “Yeah, exactly! March of ‘86 I holed up in my room and just listened to it over and over again until I could work out the chords, then it felt like I worked my fingers to the bone trying to get it down. It was a challenge, but it was definitely a defining moment in my music journey, you know?” He nodded, sharing that sliver of himself without trouble. It made Y/n intrigued, yet jealous. She wanted to be able to do that without locking up.

“Wait, you learned it by ear? Amazing! You must be some sort of musical genius.” She said, fully meaning the sentiment, when Eddie scoffed and shook his head humorlessly. “That’s really sweet, thanks, but I’m far from a genius.” He averted his gaze, shyness creeping in.

Y/n cocked her head, sensing she struck a nerve of his, one she would be sure not to touch on again. “You think I’ll get to hear you play it sometime?” She said, brushing his sitting hand with her fingers, gathering some courage.

Eddie’s eyes lit up, “I’d love to play some Metallica for you.” He nodded eagerly. Y/n giggled and took another drink, the liquid courage catching up to her. “Are you gonna give me a private performance? Or should I come back when Corroded Coffin is playing next?” She said suggestively.

Eddie perked up at this, not sure if he’s hearing the implied meaning behind her words correctly. “Why not both? I mean, if the private performance goes well.” He chuckled nervously and sipped his new beer. Y/n looked at his hands, noticing his rings and how each one was different.

The chatter of the crowd around them and the music from the stage was a good excuse to keep leaning forward, thanking herself for wearing a low cut top. She held out her hand, Eddie cocked his head and eased his hand into hers tentatively. She immediately took to his rings, ogling them.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s gonna be great. I saw these fingered working up there earlier and couldn’t keep my eyes off them. These are pretty metal, I must say.” She looked the jewlery over with a quiet and heavy lidded smile. Eddie’s cheeks heated up at their closeness, noticing how she stroked his palm and wrist and stopped paying attention to his jewelry, holding her gaze on his lips.

“Uhm,” he swallowed hard, “W-Would you wanna maybe have that private performance.. now?”

Y/n’s eyes flickered with hope, “Where at, rockstar?” She bit her lip, looking him over and interlacing their fingers. “I—Depends on how long you’re willing to wait, Princess, you think you wanna come back to my place? Or are you more of a ‘right here right now’ kinda girl?” He said in her ear slowly, taking hold of her forearm and stroking it lovingly; mapping out every scar and freckle that lay there.

“Where do you prefer?” She said, shamelessly stroking the column of his neck with her thumb, which sent shivers down his spine. “Baby, I’ll take you anywhere I can get you.” He whispered, his breath fanning over her ear and cheek. Her chest began to heave in want while her eyes roamed his body beneath his clothing, wondering where else he had tattooed.

“Y’know, I have a very spacious van parked in the alley out back, if that’s your kinda thing, but I simply can’t wait another second to touch you.” He whispered nervously, hoping he wasn't ruining everything by crossing the unspoken line between them. Y/n’s eyes turned hungry as she nodded, “Can we do a shot first?” She asked, buzzed and still giddy enough she needed to calm down.

Eddie bit his lip, “I like the way you think, sweetheart, what do you want?” He turned to call Sal the bartender.

“Tequila!” She nudged his arm, looking at the jug on the shelf. “I didn’t take you for a tequila girl.” He smiled, grabbing a shaker from behind the bar and sprinkling himself some salt on the back of his hand as Sal poured them up, setting out limes before leaving.

“I’m not, usually,” she said while sprinkling the salt onto her hand, “Figured it’d be good for tonight—makes my clothes fall off.” She shrugged before licking up the strip of beer salt and throwing back the shot, picking up the lime wedge and sucking.

A moan of relief slipped out as the fresh citrus flooded her mouth. Eddie sat unmoving with his mouth gaping, hand still at the ready to take his shot. “Oh my god.” He breathed, taking the shot and matching her speed for courage.

Y/n hopped up as he set down his glass, sauntering through the door as he paid their tab and looked across the room to his buddies who sported amused and knowing looks as their friend stuck his tongue between his teeth in a victorious grin, slapping down a $10 tip on top of the total because he was feeling especially generous.

“Don’t get your hopes up, lover boy, we’ll still be here when you get back.” Her friend said pointedly, the rest of them sniggering along with Eddie’s friends. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said incredulously, leaning his weight back on the door to meet his dream girl outside.

She stood under the lamppost smoking a cigarette, her jacket back around her shoulders, which made Eddie eager to take it off later. “Hey, there.” He smiled, shrugging on his own jacket, the leather cold before melting into warmth at the touch of his skin. “Hiya.” She giggled behind the cigarette.

Eddie allowed himself to act on his impulses and stepped closer to her until he had to look down, the end of her cigarette a few inches away from him before she removed it and turned away to blow the smoke— ‘What a sweetheart.’ He thought.

“Think I could have a hit off that?” He smiled, his eyes looking over her pretty face in the new lighting, her features so much clearer now. He couldn’t get over the shape of her lips, watching them stretch as she revealed the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

Instead of answering, she stuck her cigarette between his smiling lips, holding onto his shoulder to steady herself. He hummed contently at her promptness and wrapped an arm around her waist, finding the sliver of flesh that rested above the top of her jeans until he grasped her wrist and moved her hand away to exhale to the side and then interlace her other hand in his.

Y/n watched on thoughtlessly as he brought the new hand up to his lips to kiss her finger tips one at a time, then her knuckles and wrist, before flipping her hand over and pressing a kiss to her palm, nipping at it with his teeth and wrapping the arm around his neck— bringing her giggling lips to his and pulling her into a tight embrace, lips working against one another eagerly while his hands cradled her neck and upper back tenderly. Y/n didn’t realize it until she felt the shift of gravity, but she figured out Eddie was leaning her backward, trying to dip her romantically in his almost drunken state after the shot. Her hair fell back, the world slowly turning upside down at his hands, his kiss melting any sense of care away.

‘So what the moon is on the bottom and the cars are on top? I could hold onto him forever.’

‘You’re saying that because you’re drunk and horny, get on with it.’

They pulled away when they were almost falling, both of them laughing breathlessly. Eddie pressed one more kiss to her forehead before taking her hand and gently tugging on her to follow, “C’mon, pretty girl, lemme show you what else I got.” He teased, admiring how deeply pink her neck and chest were burning.

They ran like giggly school children together around the building, as if they’d get caught and have their parents called. Eddie relished in the warmth her hand gave him— wondering how warm they were about to be pressed up against each other in the van.

He unlocked the doors, swinging one open and gesturing inside, “After you.” He bit his lip, worried that at any point she’d turn back. Instead, Y/n raised her eyebrows at him briefly, shooting him a coy smile before taking his hand and stepping up and in. Eddie licked his lips and swung the door shut behind him.

From the moment he turned around, she was on him, her arm snaking around his neck, her other pulling his waist to hers by his belt loop and bringing him in for another hungry kiss.

The quiet of the van amplified the sounds they made together, every moan, gasp, smack, and groan audible, though neither of them minded, if anything they loved it. His hands found her hair, gently stroking it like he’d been dying to since he saw her flipping it around during his set.

He trailed his hand down the side of her neck, his thumb tracing her jaw sent shivers down her spine. She broke the kiss, pausing in the space between them before they went further. His eyes opened to see her looking at his lips, only looking into his eyes when he smiled softly, “You still good? We don’t have to, you know. I’ve had a lot of fun with you tonight.” He said easily, no hint of pettiness in his tone.

Y/n smiled at his words, leaning into his hand more, “I’m having a great time too,” he exhaled slowly, relief evident on his face. “I was just wondering if I needed to climb you like a tree or lay you down, big boy.” She winked with a smile on her lips, laughing when he flopped down to the floor immediately.

“You really just had to open your mouth, didn’t you?” He looked at her with wide eyes in amusement. “I swear everything you say does something to me, baby.” He mumbled, too busy watching her settle her body on top of his lap and strip off her shirt, revealing her lace bra. “Holy shit.” He gasped, wrapping his hands around her revealed bodice to get a better look at her while she leaned forward onto his chest to stroke him with her fingernails through his shirt.

Eddie sat all the way up to pull her body closer to his, “Holy fucking shit, you’re beautiful.” He struggled to look her in the eye as he bounced back and forth between her soft torso and beautiful face. She looked down at him patiently, not used to the compliments, soaking it all up while she could.

“Eddie?” She whispered, stroking his hair and pulling him from his thoughts. “Yes?” He asked earnestly, gazing into her eyes as if he were ready to do anything she asked of him, which he was. She leaned over by his ear, balling his shirt up in her fists, “Can we take this off?” She snickered, pressing a kiss to his cheek, followed by his jaw and neck.

His heart began hammering again as she mouthed at the crook of his neck, thoughts evaporating from his head—including his ability to speak. He remembered he needed to answer only when she slid her hands up underneath the hem at his side, a jolt of electricity sent straight to his dick at the contact.

“Oh, yeah,” he said through her kisses, allowing her to raise it above his head and discard it to the side with hers, her reaction to the rest of his tattoos stroking his ego as she bit her lip and ran her hands across him. “I want you to do whatever you want, sweetheart.” He whispered against her before diving back in for more.

He fixed his hands to the meat at her hips, grinding her on his cock that strained against his jeans. He smirked at the pretty little sound she made when she started moving her hips on her own, rolling them in a way that drove Eddie wild. His hands flew to her chest, massaging the plush of her breasts that begged to be let out of their confines.

“Baby, can I get rid of this?” He asked helplessly, stroking the skin above the clasp at her back. Y/n smiled, her nose bumping his as she nodded and said, “I want you to do whatever you want, sweetheart.” She bit her lip as he smiled like a child on Christmas morning. He went about popping the hooks from the small hoops and sliding the straps off her arms at a nice pace, consciously trying to make sure he wasn’t going too fast to freak her out or make her think he was too eager.

Eddie had his fair share of one night stands, fond memories for his spank bank until the next came along, but none of them compared to this. This was something he’d think of forever.

“Jesus Christ.” He said softly, his eyes taking in the ethereal sight—the bounce of her freed breasts as they fell and soft skin just begging to be marked up and grabbed.

But the best part was the tattoo that sat underneath them. “It’s beautiful.” He breathed, taking her waist in his hands and examining her body like art, trying to find the rest of her tattoos and not bust his load at her perky nipples looking so excited to see him.

“You’re divine, really, baby, I’ve never seen anyone like you before…” He trailed off in wonder, grazing his fingers softly over the ink. She looked at him looking at her, dazed and confused by this stranger’s courtesy and gentleness that could only match—

She tilted his chin up towards hers to stop the thoughts from rolling in, never thinking about Adam during times like these— let alone comparing him, and pressed a soft and hungry kiss to his lips, licking into his mouth. Eddie bucked his hips and groaned at the feeling of both her bare tits against his chest and her tongue in his mouth.

He went to work rubbing her breasts, easing her into a heated pile of mush on top of him, trying to get her to relax further into his touch. “You gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” He asked, nipping at her bottom lip to make her cry out.

“Yes, please fuck me, Eddie.” She whined breathlessly, their thrusts becoming more intense along with their breathing. Eddie laid her down backwards, her legs still around his hips as he kneeled above her, admiring the way her tits bobbed when she fell against the plush blanket pallet he kept.

Her eyes gleamed as they bore into his. He smiled down at her, brushing his fingers around her hairline and stopping at her cheekbone to unbutton her pants, her heart feeling content like a purring cat. “You’ve got me so wet, Eddie.” She whispered, palming her left tit and grazing her fingers down her stomach as he worked at sliding her pants off.

Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from her touching herself the way she was, only ever seeing girls do it in magazines, he never thought he’d see one do it in real life. “I wanna watch you touch yourself,” He whispered, dropping her jeans next to her shirt and opening her legs slowly to encourage her.

Y/n didn’t answer, instead, she gave him a little smile and slid her hand into the front of her panties, sighing at the contact and writhing a little as she found exactly where she needed to touch. Eddie looked on in amazement, stroking himself over his jeans as he looked down at the angel laying in front of him. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” He mumbled and licked his lips at the wetness pooling in her panties and the bits of flesh he could make out around the straining fabric of the lavender cotton.

He sat there mesmerized at the way her fingers disappeared inside of her, the way she tweaked her clit in time with the thrusts of her wrist and the way she kept her eyes on him the whole time she did so, reminding him that even if he wasn’t touching her, he was the one making her feel good.

Eddie slowly stroked her hips where the elastic sat, tugging lightly at the band until she raised her ass off the floor so he could slip them off her legs and toss them to the growing pile. A thin sheen started to coat her skin, glittering in the dim light of the van. Eddie ran a light and tender hand up her leg and then rubbed encouraging circles on the inside of her thighs, aching to bury his face in her wetness and send her further into the abyss of pleasure.

Y/n rubbed herself gently, opening her eyes as Eddie’s hands came closer to her throbbing core. “Touch me, please…” she whined, looking at him as if she’s waited for his touch for years and then letting them fall shut. Eddie’s eyes widened, his cock desperately needing relief, her eye contact and plea just made it worse.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby,” Eddie took off his boxers quickly, moaning in relief and stroking his dick as he eased on top of her, caging her in with his arms. She gasped when she opened her eyes again to see him naked and godly before her. “Is that okay?” He asked, pressing a soft kiss to her neck, sending her eyes rolling to the back of her head, “Yes, please… Oh, fuck…” she groaned, feeling his weight on top of her as he adjusted her thighs around him, stroking her hips and lower back lovingly. “God damn, you’re so fucking soft, baby, I can’t get enough of you.” He breathed into her, reaching for her breast and meeting her for a warm and wet kiss, complete with teeth tugging lips, tongues licking skin, and quiet and satisfied giggles slipping out every now and then.

They reveled in each other’s nakedness, the feeling of skin on skin lighting them on fire—their hands and lips roaming everywhere.

Eddie took care to latch his mouth onto her nipple as he worked the other one with his tender touch. Her hands stayed in his hair, the mess of it scattered around him as he moved, though she didn’t mind.

Y/n thought she was going to lose her mind before he touched her pussy, swollen and dripping for him when he ran a tentative finger through her folds, “You want me as bad as I want you, don’t you, baby?” He set a slow yet satisfying pace, bumping her clit with every movement as her hand slipped further into his curls, tightening her grip to Eddie’s delight.

With every pant that left her came an adorable little noise, only audible in the space between them as they moved against one another. Eddie smiled to himself, his ego loving all of the praise this girl gave him.

“If you want something you need to ask for it—wanna make you feel good.” He said in between messy kisses along her shoulder. “Eddie, I need you to fuck me.” She whispered to him urgently, pulling his face up to hers with desperation.

“Uh, y-you don’t want me to eat you? C’mon baby, don’t get shy on me now.” He stammered, having been so close to the honey pot he desperately thirsted for. “Uh-uh..” She said, gently shaking her head ‘no’ and taking his cock in her hand.

Her hand traced the length of his shaft, pulling an inhuman grunt from him, a smirk of satisfaction crossing her face as he thrust his hips involuntarily. “Just, uh, lemme..fuck, lemme—lemme get a condom,” he managed through her firm strokes.

Eddie grabbed the chain on his pants, yanking his wallet out of his pocket to retrieve a gold foil package inside. Y/n admired his waist, tracing the dragon that wrapped around the side of his torso as he worked the condom on, stroking himself a couple times before moving back over her, who took no hesitation in wrapping her legs back around him, a giddy smile on her face that matched his. “C’mere, you pretty little thing.” He growled in her ear playfully while descending upon her, pressing his fingers into the plush of her thighs that enveloped him perfectly and kissing her giggling lips like they already belonged to him.

The laughter subsided as the kisses grew deeper and longer, when they pulled back and opened their eyes, they looked at each other like more than a couple strangers fucking in the back of a van for the first time— more like lovers who’d cross space and time to be together just for one night.

“You, uh, wanna put it in?” He asked, a blush dusting his cheeks as he hovered over her, stroking her bum and thigh as he waited. Y/n gently guided his member to her entrance while Eddie placed his other hand around her breast—poised to antagonize her nipple.

After the tip pressed against her, Eddie groaned as he sunk into her, his chest flattening onto hers until they could catch their breath. “You take me so well, baby, oh fuck,” He gasped next to her head, pushing some hair away from her ear and neck to dive down and nuzzle his face there.

“You fill me up so good, Eddie, oh my god.” She gasped as he propped himself up on his hands, gazing into her eyes as he started moving, her pussy gripping him so tight it’s hard for him to pull out and push back in. “Holy shit, do—is that good? Is that good for you?” He asked in quiet awe at the sensation they created together, in and out, in and out.

“Yeah— yeah, it is.” She said, fighting against the ecstasy she was slipping into to keep her eyes open. As Eddie worked his first few thrusts, he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together like they had many times that night, though Y/n was expecting him to hold her wrists above her head like she’s used to, but no. Eddie rested their joined hands next to her head and smoothed her hair affectionately.

“You’re such a pretty girl, y’feel so good on my cock...” He said in awe as he picked up the pace and sent a jolt to her throbbing core when he pinched and rolled her nipple in his other hand. Y/n let out a groan at the feeling, the sound only encouraging Eddie to do what he’d been dreaming of since the moment she took off her jacket in the bar.

Eddie smirked at her anguish, the sparkle in his eye only confirming the mischief he emanated. “You want me to take my time with you?” He panted, slipping his hand in between them and finding her clit, spreading their wetness over it before slowly circling it, knowing exactly how desperate she was to cum.

“No-No, no…please, no. I n-need you to go faster Eddie, I don’t want you to stop til you cum—“ without hesitation, Eddie adjusted his grip on her leg and pressed down on her clit, enough to scratch that unbearable itch that antagonized her deep in her nerves. “Holy shit, Eddie! Oh my god, keep going, yes!” Her back arched off the floor, her chin jutted upwards exposing her neck, which Eddie took advantage of and served up heated kisses all around her throat as she cried out.

“ ‘m close, Eddie, you’re so good, so fucking good!” She mumbled her eyes heavy and eyebrows scrunched in distress, her hand roamed his body with reckless abandon, giving feather light touches across his neck and shoulders then sinking her nails down his back and grabbing his hip as he slammed into her hot cunt.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, moving a hand from her chest to her throat while still holding her other hand tenderly next to them. “ ‘s this okay?” He whispered, keeping a light hold on her neck until she answered.

“Yeah..” She whispered pathetically, bringing her free hand on top of his and closing his grip around it the way she liked, just enough to get a little dizzy on top of the beer buzz, then moaning into his touch as she rocked against him the best she could while the sounds of skin slapping skin resounded between them. Eddie looked down at where they connected, unable to get enough of the sight of his cock burrowing inside of her.

“I want you to cum, baby, I wanna feel it—wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

“Lemme ride!” She insisted quietly like a secret. Eddie's eyes lit up at her enthusiasm and nodded before promptly rolling off of her, eager for her to be back in charge. He scooted himself against the back of the seat, “You want me here?” He asked as she crawled over to him. Eddie barely noticed his hands reaching out for her, but when he did she was already settling on his lap, his member standing between them as she laid a hand against his soft chest and used her other to stroke him. Eddie sighed as he circled his arms around her waist to pull her impossibly closer. “Yeah, baby, you’re perfect.” She whispered, though she didn’t mean to let it slip—the pet name or the word perfect. Eddie preened at the praise, desperate for her validation and affection.

She wasn’t usually one for pet names, or for praising her sexual partners. Up until now, sex felt transactional, and those things weren’t apart of the deal. But with Eddie the praises dropped from her lips effortlessly, and most times involuntarily.

Her hands found his hair, lightly raking her nails on his scalp which made him lean into her. Eddie felt like he hadn’t kissed her lips in years when she pressed hers to his in a thirsting kiss, chasing after his tongue with hers. They moaned into each other as she sat back down on his dick, not wasting any time in setting her quick pace.

Eddie's jaw dropped at the feeling, the warm, wet, silky tunnel that squeezed him so unmercifully he could hardly catch his breath, though he didn’t care because he was too busy bathing in her ecstasy. “Ohh, fuck me..” he groaned against her lips as she exclaimed in delight.

She pulled back from him, her hands holding his cheeks tenderly before dropping to his shoulders for more leverage. Eddie’s hands slithered down to her hips, focusing on the softness of her skin under his hands as he squeezed and squished. “Ohh, my god, angel.. I-I don’t know how much more I can take, I need you to cum, baby, can you? Can you come for me?” He pleaded softly and felt her tighten at his words, “Oh, you like it? You like it when I talk to you?” He tested, feeling her squeeze again and watching her bite her lip as she nodded, slowing her bounces to a roll, not wanting to leave this bubble of pure pleasure just yet.

Eddie moved his hands from her hips to her breasts, pinching both of her nipples in his fingers while he bucked his hips up against her. “Your body is so fun to play with, sweetheart.” He gazed into her sparkling eyes and then her mouth while waiting desperately for his kiss, moaned at the comment. “You think I’ll make you cum?” He asked, his low and gravelly tone masking his insecurity. Should she have finished by now? Maybe made more noises?

“Yeah, yeah—you’re doing so good!” She whispered eagerly before picking up her pace and kissing him passionately. They kissed until the sensation was too much, the electricity brewing within them lighting their cores on fire as they chased their orgasms together. Their noises were involuntary at this point, though listening to one another grunt and moan drove them further to the edge at a blinding speed.

“Eddie! Eddie, are you gonna cum with me?” She asked his lips desperately, now holding back from her climax til he could answer her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, cum! Cum, baby, cum! Cum on my dick and I’ll cum for you.” He rambled like a madman, like an addict without a fix. He had no idea that this was just the first taste, that this was only the beginning.

His words wrapped her in a wonderful haze, everything was only Eddie. “Please, baby, let me make you cum. Let me take care of you.” He panted into her ear as he kissed and nibbled her neck just under it. “Oh, fuck!” She cried out, her core tensed before the white hot pleasure melted over her body, head to toe. “Eddie, I’m cumming! Cum with me, cum with me!” She pleaded, too busy basking in euphoria to feel pathetic. She grabbed at the back of his neck with both hands, engulfing his lips with hers.

Her sounds, her kiss, the walls of her pussy clenching around him—it was all too much. He cried out as his cock spasmed inside of her, rutting up into her roughly as he lived in her warmth and and rode out the rush that eventually faded right before she went limp on top of him.

They both fought to catch their breath, settling into one another in a new way. Y/n blinked hard, noticing how her arms and legs wrapped around him to keep close, and how he wrapped his arms around her waist for the same. The embrace was comforting, like a warm hug from someone you love after a long day—it felt like home.

She typically knew where to go from here, opting to throw her clothes back on and send the guy a ‘see you later!’ before going home and forgetting their name within a couple days. But with Eddie, she found herself reluctant to leave. Instead, she stayed in this little space for now; her lips grazing the soft pale skin of his shoulder, his heavy pants against hers. Her fingers buried in the back of his curls frizzy from the humidity they produced and tickling the side of her face, though it wasn’t unbearable. She felt like she could breathe deeper with his arms squeezing around her middle as if she were his teddy bear.

“God, you were amazing, angel.” He whispered to her with a smile, stroking the length of her back lovingly and curling his other fingers in her hair, trying to learn her body the way he craved. He wanted to remember exactly how it all felt—how she felt and made him feel.

She turned her head to look at him, lightly stroking the side of his face with her fingers and smiling softly, saddened at the prospect of leaving without any intention of seeing him again—though she wanted to deeply.

Y/n pulled him in for another kiss, this one much slower as she tried to memorize him. Her mind went warm and fuzzy as they set the passionate pace, each movement she made followed by ‘Last one… another one, just one more..’ until she felt Eddie adjust them to lay backwards and begin to roll on top of her, his cock hardening again already.

“Eddie,” She panted into him as he fixed his grip on her legs, pushing her knees back and pulling a sigh from her as he continued to kiss her swollen lips. “Eddie,” she groaned as he kissed her neck again, lightly tilting her chin back with his hand and making her melt into his touch.

“I’m not afraid to stay here with you all night, baby, just tell me what you want…” He whispered, stroking the side of her neck with his thumb as he spoke into her ear.

“I-I have to go, Eddie, I’m sorry.” She managed, pushing some hair away from his face. His eyes widened at her words, caught off guard. “Oh, I’m sorry! Was I keeping you?” He sat upright, grabbing her clothes for her and handing them over before picking up his own and stripping off the condom and tying it off to be dealt with later.

“No, no, you’re fine—great, even!” She scrambled to yank on her pants, ignoring the amused smirk that sat on Eddie’s face as he tugged his own black denim over his boxers and admired her as if he’d never had her before.

She threw on her bra and leaned over to adjust her breasts in the cups, pulling a soft gasp from Eddie—he had no idea watching a girl get dressed was just as fun as watching her get undressed. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she made eye contact with him, sending him a sly smile and wink as she prepared to tug her shirt over her head.

Eddie grabbed her shoes and set them in front of her, spotting his pack of cigarettes by the rest of his clothes and grabbing one out to light as she tied her laces. He noticed the windows were fogged and he smiled around the filter while he puffed.

Though he’d watched her dress, he turned one more time to make sure she was decent before opening up the back doors to the van, the cool night air drifting in and tickling the moisture that collected at their hairlines during the fun.

“So, uh, I-I had a really good time with you tonight.” He fumbled, quickly placing his cigarette back in his mouth after he’d spoken. Y/n smiled at his nervousness and nodded in agreement. “Me too, it’s uh, it’s been a while since it’s been that good for me—with another person, you know?” She said candidly, inwardly shocked she was able to muster up the confidence to share that.

Eddies eyes widened at the information, a hopeful leap in his chest told him that sex made her open up—made her feel close. He nodded in response, removing the cigarette and exhaling. “Y-Yeah, yeah, for sure. I, uh, don’t have many one night stands, but, uh, I can say for sure that it hasn’t been like that before.” He nodded, then realized he said one night stand. His face turned to hers quickly, the alarm apparent in his eyes.

She must’ve noticed his panic, leaning in to place a quick peck on his lips before nicking his cigarette and taking a drag. He chuckled softly as she hopped out of the back and stood in front of him between his legs, retrieving her jacket and shrugging it over her shoulders, fixing her hair in the process. He placed patient hands on her waist, letting her smoke as much as she wanted to if it meant she stayed with him longer.

“When can I see you again?” He asked hopefully.

Y/n giggled, handing him the cigarette back, which he accepted reluctantly. “That’s not very ‘one night stand’ of you, is it, Eddie?” She teased, testing if his big brown eyes deflated in hope a little, though really it looked like it took the air from him.

“How about…” she trailed off and averted her eyes to the ground, searching for a reason to see him again that isn’t more than what it can be. She shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea of seeing him again, let alone wishing she could stay the night. He felt so familiar.

Eddie searched for her gaze with his, successfully pulling her eyes back on him. “How about, I come see Corroded Coffin again? You said you play here often— how often?” She asked, putting her arms on his shoulders and grinning when his hands found her arms and rubbed them softly as he nodded. “We play again next friday.” He smiled.

She nodded at him thoughtfully, not fully present but stuck in the corner of her mind that told her she was being indulgent, that leaving Danny once a month to go out with her friends was selfish as it is, not to mention sleeping with strangers just to feel something, to feel reckless as safely as possible, to feel her age— was too much. She wasn’t supposed to do things people her age did, she was a mother, and she sure as hell wasn’t supposed to feel this with someone else, the way it only felt with—

“I’ll see you next Friday.” She nodded decidedly, turning on her heel and beginning her walk to the front of the building, though Eddie caught up quickly to catch her arm before she could get any further. “Wait, wait, wait, one more?” He asked, taking a hopeful lip waiting between his teeth as he held her close.

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at him before taking his face in her hands and laying a deep kiss to his lips, relishing the butterflies that fluttered relentlessly in her stomach when his hands slipped around her body one last time, pulling back slowly and hesitating before disconnecting their bodies. Eddie quickly took her face in his, sprinkling kisses all over her face, “Thank you, sweet girl.” He said as she giggled.

“Lemme walk you inside?” He asked like a sweet freshman boy at the end of his first date. Y/n sighed, self hatred spreading through her mind like a disease as she nodded with a smile. Eddie grinned and darted back to the van to retrieve his shirt and pull it over his head on his way back, holding out an expectant hand for her that made her heart both flutter and sink, somehow.

The only noise between them on their walk was the crunch of gravel beneath their shoes and the sounds of the night in summertime. Eddie swung their hands between them, a smile tugging at his lips as he tried to stay forward facing.

He opened the door of the bar, looking her over once more and halting her to fix her jacket collar with a focused tongue between his lips before allowing her to continue and opening the door again.

Their groups were a little drunker than they left them, talking amongst themselves and producing boisterous laughter as they walked in. “Ohh ho, look who it is!” Gareth bellowed, pointing a finger at his friend who looked so proud under his blush.

Y/n’s friends looked at her hand intertwined with Eddie’s, sending her taunting looks that said ‘we are definitely talking about this later’ and bit back chuckles unsuccessfully. She looked at her best friend Stella, who took a nonchalant sip to cover her smirk while obviously averting eye contact.

“W-We gotta go, friends!” Y/n tapped her always watchless wrist, not wanting to keep her sitter waiting forever. The girls nodded in silent understanding, always aware of the curfew she kept for herself, and stood to collect their things and pay their tabs.

The members of Corroded Coffin looked at Eddie with sparkling and expectant eyes, ready to hear about the details as soon as the ladies left the premises. Eddie had recounted his sexcapades to his friends in the past, the storyteller in him going off on all the details—both educating them and giving them material for the spank bank.

But this time he wanted to hold onto it for himself—this girl was special and she made him feel special. Something about her essence was addicting, not to mention her face was the best one he’d ever seen.

“I’ll, uh, see you later, Eddie.” She mumbled to him, easing her hand out of his. “Looking forward to it.” He smiled softly, watching her go until the others were leaving out the doors. Sabrina hung behind and looked him over as if she were sizing him up, followed with a curt nod before disappearing out the doors.

Eddie let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as the boys applauded. “I must say, I am very impressed, my friend. I can’t believe you got her back to your van so fast, wow.” Gareth speculated drunkenly to Eddie’s annoyance.

“Don’t talk about her that way. That doesn’t mean anything, girls can do whatever they want, especially if it benefits me. I would’ve taken her back to my place if she hadn’t had some curfew to beat or something. Besides, she’s coming back next week.” He said, turning a chair around backwards and straddling it while picking up a beer from the table and taking a sip. “Whoa, you have another date?” Jeff gaped. “A curfew?” Gareth asked with disbelief.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “This wasn’t a date, we just met—and I don’t know if you’d even call it a date, it’ll probably just be a repeat of tonight, and so what Emerson, like your mom isn’t on your ass about being home by 2am even if you’re a big boy now.” Eddie jeered, Gareth rolling his eyes. “Alright, say she does come back and you guys go round two, then what?” Grant asked.

Eddie paused, pursing his lips for a moment as the boys leaned forward in anticipation. “I’m following her lead so… guess I’ll know next week.” He shrugged.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

On an excruciating car ride home, while receiving the third degree from her friends as they howled out mocking cries of ‘Eddie! Oh god, give it to me’ and ‘And you were holding HANDS! What was that all about??’ Y/n did her best to defend her time with Eddie without showing she liked it too much.

“H-He’s really sweet, alright?” Y/n shrugged their taunts off, turning her attention to the radio and puffing on her last cigarette of the night—cause she was trying to cut back. “Did you see the way he looked at her though??” Mollie shrieked from the back seat, her eyes wide in amazement. Stella laughed from the steering wheel, “Like a lovesick puppy!” She agreed. Y/n blushed and rolled her eyes, “Yeah, well, dudes do that sometimes.” She countered, mostly to convince herself.

“Okay, but— the way he didn’t wanna let go of your hand? C’mon. You’ve gotta give the poor guy a chance.” Mollie nudged her shoulder, earning a weak push back from Y/n who scoffed, “Well you’re about to be so pleased.” She smirked behind her cigarette as the whole car hushed, “Wait a damn minute, are you going out? Did he ask? Did you say yes?” Mollie freaked.

“Hey, hey, hey, slow down, Molls, I only told him we’d come back next Friday to listen to the band again.” She shrugged again, the silence already annoying.

“Oh, my GOD.” Stella exclaimed, “You do like him.” Stella argued, “Do not! Not like that.” Y/n shot back.

Everyone in the car collectively eyerolled and groaned, “How do you not? You don’t go to bars more than once a month and suddenly you wanna come back to this one next week just cause he’s, what, fun? You have plenty of fun, we all know it! And you should! But what’s so wrong with liking him? You’re allowed to love people, Y/n/n.” Stella urged while keeping her eyes on the road.

Y/n couldn’t look at any of her friends, either, unable to come up with another reason to see Eddie— one that didn’t involve her budding feelings for him, or at least the way he made her feel.

“C’mon, play pretend for a minute and tell me all the things about Eddie that made you fluttery inside.” Stella suggested, Kathy and Mollie nonchalantly leaning in to listen. Y/n sighed to the stars out the open car window, pausing before she chose to respond.

“…if I did like Eddie… it’d be because he talked to me, like actually talked to me.. It’d be because he didn’t make me feel like a piece of meat when he bought me the drink—it never felt like he expected anything in return…He never made me feel like sex was something I had to do, up until the last moment he was always asking as if I’d change my mind..

And when I told him I wanted to he told me he’d take me anywhere, to his house, to his car—if I asked him to get a motel room I bet he would. That guy makes me feel like he’d do anything I asked and it’s weird. No, not weird—scary. I can’t tell if it’s real or not, and if it is, isn’t that scarier? I’m not ready for that kind of commitment, and what if I hurt a good guy? Not to mention Danny. No 20 something year old dude is going to want someone else’s three year old boy hanging around—making me flake on dates, pitching fits when he is around, it’s just the facts. I’m not ready.” She cased.

Silence fell over the car as they pulled into Y/n’s driveway. “Y’know, you made some really good points, Y/n.” Stella said, putting the car in park. Mollie and Kathy looked at Stella in disbelief, “She did?”

“I mean, yeah, it’s every reason anyone ever decided against taking their chance on love. I just thought she’d have better reasons, or better yet; I thought she’d be braver than all of those things.” Stella shrugged, her words catching Y/n’s attention like rubbing alcohol on a scrape.

“I mean, c’mon, man, you did the whole ‘against-the-odds-teen-parent’ thing, and you’re rocking that shit, I might add.” She pointed at the young mother from across the console who blushed at the compliment and rolled her eyes trying to feign annoyance, though the girls knew how awful she was at handling praise.

“I never thought you’d be so afraid of love, man. Adam would want you to be happy, he’d want Danny to grow up with a good guy in his life!”

“Well, Adam’s not here.” Y/n bit back, the annoying prickly stinging at her eyes clouding her pride as she regretted her words. Stella hesitated before she reached out for her friend's shoulder. “I know. I know he isn’t,” Stella sighed, “But tell me I’m wrong, Y/n/n.”

Y/n looked at Stella and then Mollie and Kathy who sat patiently in the back and sighed, their eyes engaged on the conversation with quiet care. “I can’t.” She mumbled, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Just think about it! You don’t have to have it all figured out yet.” She nodded encouragingly.

Y/n glanced at the front door and the porch light buzzed as moths darted all around it, mesmerized and unsatisfied. She stepped out of the vehicle and shut the door, leaning down to the open window. “Are we good to go for next Friday or am I going alone?” She asked, hoping she didn’t sound desperate.

The friends looked between each other and giggled, “We wouldn’t miss it. But you’re talking him into buying us a round before you ditch us, again!” Mollie jeered and stuck her tongue out. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and tapped the window sill twice, “I gotta get in there. I love you guys. Drive safe! Gimme a call when you’re home.” She looked at all of them pointedly and jogged up the steps to her house.

She slipped through the door quietly, hanging her keys on the hook and stepping through to the living room.

“Hey! How was it?” Robin Buckley chirped softly from the recliner, setting down the remote as she stood. “It was.. needed!” She smiled. “How’d Danny boy do?” She asked, nodding towards the toddler’s room. “Great, as usual. You gotta stop worrying,we have a whole routine now! We watched the ninja turtles, played some pirates, skipped out on bath time, cause—you know,” she rolled her eyes and shrugged, referring to Danny’s problems with the water, “We ordered pizza for dinner; when I asked him what kind he looked me dead in the eyes and said ‘I eat all the pizza.” She laughed, giving her best impression of Danny’s small voice.

Y/n grinned softly, “How was he with bedtime?” She scanned the living room and through the kitchen door, looking for any stray toys or food that needed to be picked up.

“We read Green Eggs and Ham-“

“Again?” Y/n asked exasperatedly, a smile of disbelief hung on her face. Robin chuckled as she moved to the door to grab her jacket. “Three times, actually, that boy needs all the proper voices, apparently.” Robin rolled her eyes and shrugged at the boy's antics.

“Ahh, of course the voices, how could I forget?” Y/n joked, recalling all the nights Danny insists on turning back to the pages that weren’t properly read. “Someday I’ll get them right, you watch!” Robin insisted as she quietly unhooked her keys from beside the door, opening the large black door slowly.

“Wait, Robin!” She called fumbling for her purse to hand the sitter a few bills.

“Uh-uh. Nope. Nice try though! I don’t want money to watch my nephew, I’m just glad you guys finally moved closer so I can spend more time with you guys!” She said, with a genuine smile. Y/n sighed and looked at her with her head cocked, knowing that Robin shared Adam’s stubbornness, always doing for others without wanting anything in return—both a best friend to everyone around them.

“You’re too much alike.” Y/n scoffed, shoving the bills in her purse, making a mental note to slip it in her backpack or jacket sometime when she wasn't looking. Robin smiled bitterly, thinking of her late cousin—who was more like a brother. Adam spent a lot of time growing up staying at his Aunt Ginger’s house, growing close with Robin as the years passed.

When Y/n and Adam hit high school and made their love official, Robin quickly became one of Y/n’s closest friends. From the moment Danny was placed in Robin’s arms, she made a promise to herself and to her cousin that she would help his little boy live the happiest life as much as she could contribute.

“I’m happy to help! Really, don’t ever hesitate to call. He’s my best friend! Except for maybe Steve, but Danny’s way better to talk to,” Robin jokes, stepping out onto the porch when an idea hits her, “Maybe next time you can drop Danny at mine and moms for a sleepover and you can bring someone home for once.” She nodded encouragingly, yet another person in Y/n’s life vying for her to give love another chance.

Y/n scoffed and went to close the door with an eye roll when Robin stuck her boot in the door. “Y/n, I’m serious. Think about it, that’s all I’m saying.” She shrugged one shoulder and looked at the ground briefly. Y/n sighed, “Why would I wanna bring some rando home with me—Where my kid lives?”

Robin’s eyes grew heavy with good intentions, “I don’t mean a rando, Y/n! Would it be so bad to try? I know you said you will when you’re ready but—“

“And I will let you know when that day comes, Robs, I promise. And I’ll keep your offer in mind. I know Danny would love to see Gigi and eat monkey bread all evening.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes in feigned annoyance, sending Robin a smile.

Robin nodded, a content smile on her lips as she turned to leave but abruptly stopped and turned back,“I have to ask.. any luck tonight?” She asked mischievously. Y/n gaped and turned red, embarrassed at the amount of people involved in the details of her sex life.

“Wh-Robin! I-Why—how?”

“Oh my god, you so did. I thought you looked slightly disheveled when you walked in! Anyone I’d know?” She asked eagerly, as Y/n turned her by the shoulders out the door. “I hope not, see you later Robin, let me know when you get home, loveyoubyee!” She flipped on the porch light and shut and locked the door as Robin howled with laughter from the porch. “I’ll remember this, Y/n/n!”

Y/n kicked off her shoes, taking in the quietness of the house at night—her sanctuary. She walked to her bedroom, pausing to stick her head inside her son's room, his sleeping head just visible over the mound of blankets he insisted on having with him at night. She moved inside stealthily and moved the blankets further away from his face, her mom heart still cautious after two years of peaceful nights.

She continued to her room at the end of the hall, unbuttoning her pants and kicking them off by the door on her way to her bathroom at the other side of the closet. Carefully rubbing the ruined mascara around her eye, she turned on the water to shower.

As she sat down against the tub and stripped her shirt off, her time with Eddie flashed through her mind—remembering how his hands felt around her waist when she last took off her clothes; warm and rough.

The way his voice sounded when his breath panted against hers; warm and rough.

The way his kiss felt working against hers; warm and rough. She could almost feel their tongues in tandem; sometimes visible between them, others tucked away inside each other’s mouths like a home. She missed the way he tasted.

The way his eyes bore into hers like she was all he ever wished for, so intently. So warm and rough.

She shook the thoughts from her head, guilt shrouding her like the world's heaviest quilt. Crying often occurred after sex, though it was typically short lived because she was able to talk herself through it, assuring herself that she wasn’t betraying him, or trying to replace what they had. But this time felt different.

It started off as a sigh, though another deep breath was needed, which turned into quiet sobs. ‘Breathe deeply, don’t hyperventilate.’ She reminded herself, trying to switch off her brain for a minute and let herself cry.

‘He made me feel like he used to.’

‘He made me feel like I was doing everything right while I felt I was doing something so wrong.’

‘I am a single woman doing single woman things, it shouldn’t be this hard.’

‘Even if I gave him a chance he wouldn’t want someone else’s kid.’

‘No one gets serious with a single mom.’

‘He looked at me like I was everything to him.’

‘It all came so easily; the conversation, the sex, it was like magic.’

‘It’s too good to be true is what it is.’

As the thoughts rolled deeper and deeper, she wiped her face and picked herself up off the floor and into the shower. As soon as the steam cleared her senses, she could properly smell her hair; the smokey scent of the bar along with.. Eddie’s cologne.

Her tears halted, picking up a large chunk of her hair and bringing it to her nose to revel in him one more time before she had to wash him away. She tried to focus on the sounds around her and the feeling of the cold soap hitting her hands before working it in her palms and scrubbing her hair, but the safe warm feelings Eddie brought her lingered.

After accepting the calls from Stella and Robin, confirming their safety, Y/n peeled back the covers of her too big bed and slipped inside, positioning her pillows around herself to throw a leg and arm over.

She wondered what it would’ve been like for him to throw a blanket over the two of them, settle into his chest, plant kisses there and trace his beautiful face, holding him exactly like this, kissing him some more, asking him more questions about his life..

But of course, those weren’t possibilities because toddlers come before boys, always. But it didn’t mean she couldn’t think about it.

And think about it she did, until she couldn’t hold her eyes open anymore, drifting off to dream about his curly hair fanned out around him on her pillow, his hands intertwined with hers, and his smiling cheeks accepting her doting kisses.

Part 2?

@took-me-hours-to-steal-those

@samlealea

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson/you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson concept #eddie munson headcanons

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the pained peace treaty

fused with the foe, chapter one

a/n: oh wow, i have no idea how to introduce this beast of a story except to say hi, hello, welcome! i really hope you enjoy this story, as well as the rest of the trilogy, idk if i've ever gone as in depth and all out with any story as i have with these.

summary: “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, abusive father (like super bad. he is a garbage person), wedding, blood, injury

word count: 4813

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“Your majesty, I must warn you, if, gods forbid, our people come to discover the great lengths you’ve been willing to go in this disagreement over the past two decades, they might start an uprising. And if you keep going, then it’ll turn into a full-blown war and you know our kingdom wouldn’t be able to survive that, not with them. Our city’s walls may be high, high enough to keep out any beasts that may wander this far south, but it wouldn’t keep them out. You know better than most how people from Eflorr are. If you don’t wanna lose your crown, one way or another, then I’d strongly advise that we come up with some peace treaty.”

“I know, I know…” King Ivan leaned back in his gilded throne with a huff, the quality of his voice was as thin as his towering frame, “a trade I think should suffice.”

A different advisor then timidly pipped up, “but our mines ran cold ages ago, what could we possibly offer that would be satisfactory?”

Not lifting his cold gaze, the king stared at a fixed spot on the marble floor as he said, “I know one thing the king lacks that we may be able to provide for him… a wife.”

“A wife–,” both of the men’s eyes grew wide, “but do you mean–, your majesty, she is your only daughter, are you certain this is the fate you want her to have? Those people are barbaric! If one of the dangers that rule the north doesn’t get to her first, one of their citizens surely will. Sire, what if history repeats itself?”

“Then let it do so. In fact, perhaps this could have been her purpose all along and I just didn’t realise it. Couldn’t see past my own rage to grasp how useful she actually could be…”

Sharing a nervous glance, one of the advisors asked, “should we send for her? See if she agrees with the plans?”

“No, I’ll tell her when the time is right. Wouldn’t want her to do anything stupid and ruin the one good thing she could ever provide,” finally lifting his stony gaze, the king commanded, “make the arrangements, I’ll see to it that she doesn’t ruin it.” 

Deep within the opulent halls of the gilded palace, standing grand and safe behind Ingorn’s tall city walls, twisting up towards the clouds, up in a window in the western tower, there you sat. 

Book in your lap, you leaned back against the small pillow you’d propped behind you to make the wide windowsill more comfortable. Small paper butterflies hung from strings above and some dangled so low that the childhood craft that still decorated your window trickled the crown of your head. Flipping the page, your fingertips brushed down over the illustration that appeared in the agricultural tome you’d found in one of your brothers’ rooms. 

As long as you put it back before Angus returned then you’d probably be good. And if he were to somehow notice, then as long as he didn’t rat you out to your father then it would be alright. Both Angus and a few of the others that were closer to your age, Oliver and Francis respectively, were always a bit of a gamble whether or not they would do such a thing. They didn’t always have the same spirit as the eldest pair of your older brothers, Xavier and Callum. 

You missed them so much your heart ached. The older they got, the longer their diplomatic missions seemed to stretch out, making the quiet palace that much more lonely in your solitude. 

A knock then suddenly boomed at your door, causing you to jump edgily in your seat before you slammed the book shut and nervously stuffed it behind the firm pillow. 

“Come in!” you called out, swiftly straightening out your dress that had crumbled around your legs at the comfortable seat. As the door to your room slammed open, the figure that stood in it caught you by surprise, “Father–, oh, hello,” you straightened your posture that much further at his arrival. 

Skipping over any niceties, King Ivan simply stated, “you need to pack up your stuff.”

Your brows knitted into a fierce furrow, “what?”

“Not everything, of course,” he cast a cold glance around the room though didn’t take a step to enter it, “just the things you are particularly attached to.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your head lightly shook from side to side, “where am I going?”

When his eyes finally gave you the time of day, it swiftly dropped to the floor as a heavy sigh flowed from his lips, “why do you have to be the spitting image of her…” the muttering was unfortunately just loud enough for your ears to catch. His disappointment was always just loud enough for your ears to catch. When he entered the room and you moved to get up, he swiftly said, “stay seated, Y/n,” before he planted himself next to you on the wide windowsill, “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

“To Eflorr?” your gaze grew wide, “you wish for me to marry someone there?”

“Not just someone, you are to marry their king.”

“I–… I–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your rosy dress, “but father, you can’t–, I can’t go live with the people who killed mom.”

“We don’t know if they actually murdered her. But I do know that you did,” his glare locked upon you as he let himself seethe, “if you hadn’t been born then she’d still be alive,” the fact that the only thing he blamed more for his late wife’s untimely demise then the kingdom she’d perished in was you, remained a point that the sovereign had never been shy about sharing with you for as long as you could recall, “your duty is to protect and serve this land, this crown,” your eyes naturally fluttered up to gaze at the twisted gold balanced upon his head, “if you don’t go through with this, then those savages will come pillage and ruin your home. You are, regrettably, the very last hope this kingdom has of survival. You have no choice, Y/n. This marriage is the only thing that can stop a war we would never survive,” exhaling slowly, he then dominantly nodded in a concluding fashion, “pack your stuff, you have an hour.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “an hour? But–, can’t we wait at least a few days before I leave? Can’t I get a chance to say goodbye to at least one of my brothers? None of them are home yet.”

Regret instantly washed over you as your father’s nostrils flared angrily. Seizing your arm in a bruising grip, he yanked you close as he hissed, “you listen, and you listen carefully, you little brat. You have been the bane of my existence ever since you took your first breath. You took away the love of my life. You don’t deserve a goodbye, you don’t deserve anything. Do you think I got a goodbye when your mother suddenly went into labour on that diplomatic mission? No. All I got was you. Not another son, but a living, breathing reminder of what I lost that day,” your eyes squeezed shut as your cheek tingled at the memory of his strikes, “now, be a good girl and go wet his prick, give him a few babies, do anything he’d fucking please, so that him and his barbaric army doesn’t come here and slaughter everything you know and love.”

“Your highness, are you cold?” the high-ranking warden sitting across from you in the carriage noticed the shiver that your body couldn’t seem to shake. 

Tearing your eyes off of the scenery along The Emerald Path that the narrow window granted you a view of, you glanced back at the warrior. The brown hair he had practically tied off at the base of his neck blossomed into a dark beard. A bare palm clasped over an inked one in his lap as you met his gaze and said, “no, I’m–…” in truth, you were scared, so scared that you were trembling like a leaf, but you couldn’t tell the foreign king’s advisor that, too much weighted on your shoulders, you couldn’t screw this up, “no,” glancing back out of the window, you only stared a moment at the sparse cottages that slowly came into view on the rolling hills before you turned your head again and let the nauseating nerves control your words, “pardon me, Barnes, is it?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Sir, how much further till we get there?” your quiet voice echoed within the carriage, “it’s just–, it’s been days.”

“Oh, not long at all,” he shook his head lightly, “actually,” the knight leaned forward in his seat and cast his glance outside, “if you look out the window now, right there,” a small smile tugged at his lips as his finger shot up to point, “that river, that means we’re getting close to Borün city.”

As the river then suddenly curved before the dirt road, the clomping hooves of the horses that hauled the coach resonated as they trotted over a stone bridge. 

Twisting your head, you glanced out to your right and spotted farmlands curve over the rolling hills that swiftly blossomed into thickets and towering flora you’d only assume was the southern perimeter of The Noll Woods. Books about this kingdom had been banned in your homeland for as long as you could remember, but even though you were essentially going in blind, you still weren’t completely ignorant when it came to the dangers that called that sprawling forest its home, not that you were an expert in the slightest, but your brothers had from time to time told you tales of the monsters who dominated in this part. From giant and twisted insect-like creatures, to mischievous pixies, to even the rare dragon, those stories had always been your favourite. Apart from the rare occasion where Callum would share stories with you about your mother. Being the eldest, he was the only one who truly remembered her. 

Instinctively, your fingers fluttered up to fiddle with the opalescent stone that hung from a chain around your neck. In the middle of the milky jewel was a small rune engraved into it. You had no idea what it meant, but your fingers had still traced the carving countless of times before as it had hung from your neck for as long as you could recall. It hadn’t been till you were a ways into your teens that you’d come to discover that it had belonged to your mother. 

Casting your glance out the other side as you passed a tall watchtower, behind the wide city stables unfolded a port town so quaint that it surprised you. Over the small valley of gabled roofs towered a central tree, and beyond all of that, the sparkle of the sea caught your eye, a sight you’d never beheld before, haven not only stemmed from a landlocked metropolis, but also not haven been permitted to leave your room as much as your heart had desired. 

“This is Eflorr?” you asked as the carriage began to roll up the winding path to the stone castle that loomed on the cliff, granting you a new view of how the river that you’d crossed slid through the city and spilt into the ocean.

“This is Eflorr, your highness,” the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of how wide your curious eyes were. 

“It’s–… it’s–…” your stare danced over the lush ivy that climbed the solid towers, “not what I expected…”

“What did you expect?”

Tearing your gaze away from the window, you blinked, “oh, I didn’t mean–,” suddenly worried that your shock had come out sounding rude, “I just–… I don’t know a lot about this land,” in the few tales you’d heard about this place, there had been a running gag that the people of Eflorr had lived so close to the dangerous beasts that called this part of the continent their home that they too had turned into monsters, “it’s just different than I imagined.” 

Ascending the jagged hill and passing through the front gate, it opened up into a wide courtyard before you felt the carriage finally roll to a stop. 

The wagon creaked gently as Barnes stepped out first, though when his boots were firmly on the cobblestone, his frame twisted as he reached an outstretched hand back for you to grasp in support of your own exit. Ever so apprehensively, you slid your own palm into his as your other twisted in your long skirts before you slipped out of the carriage. 

Letting go of his gasp, the soldier's low timbre washed over you as your head tilted back to take in the vast stronghold, “his majesty, unfortunately, couldn’t be here for your arrival as there was a bit of a dryad problem further up north he had to take care of,” you gaze tore away from the fort and fell upon him, “but I assure you he should be back in time for the wedding.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, unsure if that fact made you feel better or worse about the entire predicament.

“If you’d like, I can give you a brief tour of the castle,” he offered as he led you towards the main entrance into the castle proper, “or if you’re exhausted after the journey, then I can just show you directly up to your chambers.”

Offering him a polite smile, you nodded, “a tour would be lovely, thank you.”

He only briefly went over the buildings surrounding the courtyard you’d entered into, as they were mainly designed as barracks and various other facilities for the local wardens, though the horses that stuck their heads out of the royal stalls in the corner did catch your eye before you moved on inside. 

Barnes’ voice echoed in most of the chambers he showed you in the castle’s western wing. The vast stained-glass windows that were in the ballroom for instance took your breath away as you saw how the light streamed through them and warmed up the room with glittering little rays of colour. 

Behind the great halls, squeezed in between and connecting the two major parts of the fort, there you crossed through a much more quiet and lush courtyard. The pebble paths that curved around the central fountain too curled around various topiary bushes that were trimmed to perfection like living sculptures. 

Though as your guide showed you the eastern wing that crested over the foaming sea below, your curiosity got the better of you. 

“Hey, Barnes?”

Slowing his leisurely stride, he tilted his head slightly, “yes, your highness?”

“What are dryads?” your brows knit lightly together, “you mentioned there was a problem with them, but what are they?”

“You don’t know?” he glanced over at you, clearly trying to mask his surprise as you shook your head, “oh, well, they are forest spirits, nymphs,” he explained as you roamed deeper down a broad hallway on the second floor, passing many private chambers both to your right and your left, “it’s not uncommon for them to wander and bother the folks who live further up the coast. Have you never encountered one? They are not as uncommon in Obelón as most of the other creatures that thrive this far north.”

“No, I’ve never seen one…” you shook your head as a low sigh flowed from your lips, “never really seen anything…”

“Not much of an outdoorsy person?” he guessed in a light-hearted tone. 

Forcing a smile, you replied, “you could say that…” as you hadn’t been allowed to be one even if you wanted to. Passing a set of double doors that stood wide open, the sight inside made you halt your steps, “is this the library?”

Shadowing you as your feet crossed the threshold, he nodded, “yes, it is,” then pointed back over his shoulder, “and your quarters are right down that hall.”

Numerous grand bookcases stood lined up all the way down to where a tall window allowed the sunlight in and let it stream through the rows. 

“Can I–… would it be alright if I read some of them?” 

“Of course, your highness.” 

“Would you mind showing me which ones I’m allowed to read?” you briefly peeked back at him as a bubble of anxiety fluttered in your belly, “I don’t wanna accidentally read something that I’m not allowed to.”

Barnes then blinked back at you a moment before he uttered, “your highness, you can read each and every one of them if you’d like. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to read whatever you wish? They are yours after all, or will be after the wedding,” the corners of your lips twitched upwards as he then asked, “would you like to peruse the titles now or do you want to see your chambers?”

“Oh, uhm,” you tore your gaze away from the tomes and turned back, “I’ll look later.”

“Alright,” he nodded, extending his inked arm to show you the way. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open to the room at the very end of the hall, his voice rang out once more, “this is the peacock suite,” following him inside, he settled to a stop near the exit for you to explore the space on your own, “you can, of course, change anything you’d like for it to match your taste.”

“Thank you,” you breathed as you slowly made your way deeper into the chamber. It was gently divided with a more formal area towards the front where both tufted couches and a crackling fireplace stood, as well as a set of doors that opened up to a quaint balcony. Towards the left, under a swirling archway, twisted a broad canopy bed up towards the tall ceilings, warm with blankets and furs, and in the corner, by a breezy partition, stood a deep cobber bathtub.

Haven not noticed that he’d moved, you then heard as Barnes creaked the doors to a close, “if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right outside.”

With a loud creak, the heavy double doors opened before you and revealed the grand hall. As soft music gushed out, you nearly didn’t recognise the space from your tour the other day as it was now decorated with vibrant flowers and flowing banners that dropped down from the high ceilings above, as well as being completely packed with a swarm of people. A thin path parted the giddy crowd right down the middle towards the opposing grand door that guards opened simultaneously to yours. 

A shaky breath filled your lungs as you stared at the man crossing over the threshold. The flickering candlelight caught the honeyed shine of the locks that came down to tickle the nape of his neck. A bit darker, his short beard was full and warmed up the bottom half of his gruff features. He sure looked like a man who could slay a kraken with his bare fists, as the soft fur cloak that draped over his shoulders did not conceal his bulky physic one bit. The neckline of his indigo tunic stretched low enough for you to see the concave of his fuzzy chest and the impressive battle scars that broke up the rippling flesh. 

You’d seen the portrait of the king that hung in the hallway that stretched up towards the throne room, but to see him before your very eyes, in flesh and blood and not precise paint, was something else entirely. 

The long and embroidered train of the blue silk kirtle you wore dragged across the store floor behind you as both you and the monarch slowly stepped into the chamber to join in the very middle. 

The enchanting music stopped as you reached one another and the parted paths to either exit slowly closed as the crowd gathered and enclosed around the sacred vow that was about to ensue. 

Parting the sea of people like a divine force, an elderly woman, with a braided grey mane so long that it hit the floor, stepped up beside the both of you. 

“People of Eflorr,” the crone’s calm voice boomed, “today marks a day of unity, a day of peace, and most of all a day of love. Like a seed planted in the soil, tonight we will all witness this relationship blossom and go on the journey of growing into a magnificent tree, with roots strong enough to endure any storm, to propagate new seedlings that will watch over and shade our kingdom when yours have fallen.” 

Looking to the king, she handed him a small dagger from her belt and spoke, “blade across skin,” and he reached out for your right hand, “strike out your seedling’s love line,” your breath hitched as you felt him slice the top of your palm. Crimson blood trickled down onto his own hand as yours rested atop it, “and claim it as your own,” he flipped the blade around and handed it to you, before presenting you his own palm, open in yours. He didn’t even blink as you hesitantly pierced the calloused skin and traced the line already adoring his broad palm, “weave your lines together, so they become the same,” he then moved to clasp your hands together, his wide grip engulfed yours completely. Your teeth sank into just the faintest bit of your bottom lip at the fresh sting of your wound as it bled into his, “and may this scar serve you as a reminder, of the vow you made on this momentous day.” 

And as the last of the matron's words flowed from her lips so did the roar of celebration that erupted throughout the crowd as the festivities of the night bloomed at an instant.

The feast had been nothing short of immaculate. Countless of dishes had been spread out on the crowded banquet tables ranging from the savoury braised legumes to the sweet and shiny pies. It was an impossible task to try and taste every one of them, but an excuse you still used to stay glued to your seat and not get up and mingle with the boisterous gathering of strangers. 

As a stark contrast, you thought you only noticed the king take two bites before he rose to greet some latecomers who had arrived. Laughing and chatting with the sea of people, he hadn’t offered you a single word, barely even a brief glance the whole night. Though your gaze still followed him from your seat up at the high table as he moved through the crowd like they were all his dearest friends. 

When the moon had floated up to be high in the sky, clearly visible on the other side of the stained glass, your head had dropped down into a propped-up palm as a deep yawn forced its way out of your frame. 

“Are you tired, your majesty?” a deep timbre suddenly found your ears, a specific tone that caused your spine to straighten out at once. 

Whipping your head to your right, your weary eyes grew wide as you saw the king again at his seat, “no, I’m alright,” you hastily coughed out, “I’m so sorry for behaving like that in your presence. This party is exquisite.” 

“It’s alright, you can yawn,” you suddenly felt the need to look away now that his ocean stare was finally fixed upon you, “it’s late, I was about to retire for the night as well, so I can only imagine how you must feel. If you’d like, I could escort you back to your chambers. I’m not sure how familiar you’ve become with the castle since you’ve arrived, but even I can still get lost when the corridors are this dark and I’ve indulged in perhaps one too many goblets of wine.”

A flutter of nauseating nerves rushed within your belly, but even so, you still pushed through and forced a smile, “if that’s what the king desires, then sure, you can escort me.”

It was your wedding night. You knew what was about to happen. 

Or, actually, you didn’t quite know what the marital act entailed, but you were sure a man such as Steve had enough of an understanding to take charge. All you knew was what little you’d been told. To strip down naked, not whine or scream, and do as he tells you. 

The soaring butterflies within you only grew more ferocious as you followed his long stride throughout the castle. Out of the ballroom and through a cold stone hallway, when you crossed the bridge that linked the two wings over a part of the cliff that descended dramatically, you nearly doubled over the parapet to empty your stomach over the town of Borün that blossomed below. 

But with a shaky intake of breath, your fist closed around the silk of your skirt as you settled yourself and forced your feet to keep moving. Even as you passed the threshold into the eastern part of the castle, you still shadowed the monarch up the many steps until his broad palm held the door to your chambers open for you to enter. 

The fire had been lit while you were gone, and the room was encased in the warm glow. 

“Did, uh…” you heard the door close behind you as the king attempted a bit of small talk, “did you have a nice time tonight?” 

“I did, your majesty,” you kept your answer brief out of fear that he’d hear the tremble to your tone. 

Slowly turning his back to you, his gaze washed over the room, “are you pleased with your bed chambers?” he settled to face the balcony, the door slightly ajar to let the night breeze seep through and rustle the sheer curtains, “because if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have a view of the town then the sea, then that’s an easy problem to fix.” 

“I think the view is just fine from here, but thank you,” you answered politely as you gathered up the last bit of your courage and reached back to undo the long row of buttons that went down the spine of the light blue dress. 

When the silky garment dropped to the floor, the quiet rustle was enough to draw the king’s attention.

First offering you just a quick glance over his shoulder, he then swiftly whirled around completely, “what are you doing?”

Weaving your fingers in the thin material of your chemise, you blinked back at his stunned features, “I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?” sure that he could already see everything through the sheer, white fabric. 

His feet didn’t move as he asked, “what are trying to do?” before he averted his gaze to the stone floor. 

“Well,” you uttered quietly, “it’s our wedding night.”

“Oh…” was all he breathed. 

“To be transparent, I’m actually not quite sure what’s to happen, but I do know it’s something,” reaching up, you took the gold and twisted circlet, that crowned your head, off and carefully sat it down on the side table to your left, “I don’t know the details, I just know that I should strip down. Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, “yes I do, but, your majesty, please, keep your clothes on,” his gaze flickered back to you as you slowly began to hike up the last layer. 

“Why?” your fingers froze, “isn’t it a tradition here for us to–”

“Well, yes, but–…” he let out a strained sigh before slowly stating, “I’m gonna go.” 

A chill crawled up your skin, “…oh, I see…” you uttered quietly as he crossed the room, “did I do something wrong?”

Halting in the doorway as he ripped it open, “no, you–…” but the rest of his words crumbled as his gaze settled upon you one last time, instead letting a low sigh flow from his lungs, “sleep well,” and added nearly subconsciously just before the door slammed shut, “goodnight, dove.”

Even though a wave of relief washed over you, a sting of hurt also followed suit as the king left. 

Had you done something wrong, or did he just find you that repellent, that hideous, that he refused to perform his marital duties?

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #eflorr au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers series #king!steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Maybe a drabble in which our Lamb meets Chimaera Reader, the maker of all crowns? Like, he stumbles upon their lair, and sees all types of the crowns, big and small, black and white, one-eyed and two-eyed, etc.? Maybe even a little inter actions between the Reader and the Red Crown in which it recognises them as their maker?

Sorry for my English, it is not my native language-

Also sorry if this request repeats, tumblr May have doubled it-

I swear I'm gonna turn this into an OC one day because I LOVE the concept of a crown maker in the COTL universe

........

'Where am I now..?' Lamb pondered as they stepped into a cavern--one most unfamiliar to them.

It was strange, considering they've scoured nearly every corner of the Old Faith for resources, potential rival cult activity, and even martyrs for the Bishops.

But this area was entirely new to them.

With their weapon drawn, they cautiously ventured further inward, eventually arriving into a larger room that was almost entirely cloaked in darkness. They could barely see a thing even with the few torches scattered around lighting the way.

Then suddenly, they saw a bunch of eyes opening up on all sides of them, varying in shape, size, color, and number. And they just stared down at the little sheep.

While they were accustomed to having so many eyes on them, this was completely different.

These eyes certainly didn't belong to any follower of theirs.

What if this was a trap?

What if-?

"Welcome, little Lamb! Promised liberator of the Old Faith!"

Looking upwards, they could see you descending from the darkness. You looked like a tradition chimera: a lion, goat, dragon, and snake all mixed into one. Both of your heads smiled as you took a seat upon your throne, although you frowned a bit upon realizing how poor the lighting must have been.

"Oh forgive me, it is awful dim in here, isn't it? Hold on one moment." Your lion head breathed out a small blast of fire, aimed towards a nearby candle that lit up.

That set off a chain reaction which lit up dozens of other candles around your lair, and burned the torches bright enough for Lamb to see what all those eyes belonged to:

Crowns.

So many crowns.

Big and small, black and white, one-eyed and two-eyed..and even multi-eyed; some sported horns and some did not. Others had bare surfaces while others were decorated with jewels or marred with scars from time.

It was an astonishing sight, and when Lamb looked back up at you, they could see a crown on each of your heads--snake tail included.

Not to mention your seat was adorned with four familiar ones...

"So you..take crowns from fallen gods?"

"Do I take them?" You repeated, before laughing uproariously. "No, but I can see why you'd assume that. I'm [y/n], Maker of the Crowns."

They blinked. "You created the crowns?"

"I have since the first gods ruled over these lands." You chuckled, taking the Green Crown into your paw. "I mold them into a design of my liking, give them life, and then send them off into the world to find a worthy host. They're like my children, so I do get sentimental at times...but I know they'll do great things."

'Huh...Leshy did say the crown found him..' Lamb mused.

"Of all the ones I've created, though, I never thought to see the Bishops' crowns again. But they were in such terrible condition...falling apart, barely able to keep their eyes open....I couldn't believe it." Your gaze shifted down to the sheep. "You wouldn't happen to know why, would you?"

They tensed. "...well...um-"

"Haha! I only jest, Lamb. I know everything." You smiled reassuringly. "I've sensed strong spikes in their energy, and I'm well aware they've been used as aids for the bishops after Narinder's betrayal. Speaking of whom...."

Pausing, you outstretched your paws towards them. "I see the Red Crown has found a new master."

"It's a long story, but--hey!!" All of the sudden, the Red Crown slipped out of their hands, morphing back into its normal form as it began floating up to you. They were shocked and angered, feeling extremely vulnerable without it. "What are you doing?!"

"Nothing, little one. It came to me all on its own. Welcome home, my darling." With the crown nestled into your paw, your smile grew as its eye stared back up at you with happiness. You sighed and brought it closer to your cheek, allowing it to nuzzle up to you. "Oh how I've missed you, mighty crown of Death. I'm glad you have not forgotten me."

"Give it back!!" Lamb snarled, baring their sharp teeth as they tried storming up to your throne. But their little hooves kept slipping on the skull pile that served as its foundation, and they eventually tumbled downwards, landing on their rear. "I need it back right now!"

"...are they always like this?" You muttered to the Red Crown, who just rolled its pupil in response. "Huh, I thought so. Arrogant, entitled, paranoid....just like your first master-"

"Don't compare us." They scowled. "Narinder was worse than arrogant...he would have destroyed this entire world, along with you and all these crowns if I returned it to him! We are NOTHING alike."

"Hm, I see I've touched a nerve. My apologies. I just wanted to take care of this little chip in its horn." Smiling, you manifested some black ichor to seal the crack you discovered on the crown, before sharpening up its horns a little bit. "There. Much better."

"....thank you. Now may I have it back?" Lamb put their hand out, growing more anxious with each passing second they were separated from it. 'Why isn't it returning to me?"

"It doesn't see why it has to right at this very moment...and quite frankly, I don't either. It's not connected to your lifeforce. You're still standing without it-"

"Because I'm its new master! I gave it new purpose. I gave it freedom...and it should be obeying me unconditionally and I don't understand why it's being so stubborn. That crown wouldn't be anywhere NEAR as powerful if it weren't for-!!"

"Choose your next words carefully," you tutted, shaking your head as you gestured to the walls. "My children do not look it, but they too have ears."

Falling silent, they looked all around, noticing that the crowns were now glaring at them. They tensed up, a feeling of heavy discomfort and embarrassment washing over them as they slowly realized how childish they were acting.

And in front of the crown creator, of all people?

"Tell me..do you see the crown as nothing without you? Or perhaps you feel like you are nothing without the crown?"

"........"

"Your mistake, little lamb, is that you see crowns as simple tools to do your bidding. A conduit for your godhood. But do not forget, they are also living breathing creatures like you and I." You chastised. "As such, they deserve respect. I figured you would've been more grateful to meet their maker...such few have the privilege to enter my lair and receive such a warm welcome."

The Red Crown bobbed up and down in agreement, before it scowled down at Lamb, as though to say "you better listen to them and treat me better".

They just looked at the ground, unable to form words as shame creeped up their spine.

You sighed softly. "I understand your worries as a new god. The mere thought of separation from it drives you to rage, especially after what happened between you and Narinder. But I have no desire to take it from you. Not when you've fought so hard for it. All I wish is that you continue caring for it."

"....I'm sorry, Great Crown Maker.." Lamb muttered, finally letting themselves be humbled. "I don't mean to act like I did. It's just...he's been annoying me all day today, shouting about "divine right" and making my life a living hell. He still can't accept that it chose me over him.."

They felt the familiar and comforting weight of the Red Crown returning to the wool atop their head, but they only looked up at you with respect. "Thank you."

"Of course, young one." You nodded, smiling once more. "Narinder has possessed that crown since he was a wee little kit, so it's going to be quite a long time before he lets that grudge go. Perhaps in a hundred years, give or take."

"I understand...so.." Lamb looked around. "Do you have any wares?"

"Oh, plenty!" You clapped your paws together. "Feel free to take a gander! Since this is your first visit, you may have one of the tarot cards over there on the house. But just know that the crowns aren't for sale."

#clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl lamb x reader #cotl lambert x reader #platonic