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madelynraemunson · 3 months

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pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #older! eddie munson #older!eddie #older!eddie munson smut #older!eddie smut #dad’s best friend!eddie #dad’s best friend!eddie munson #dom!eddie #dom!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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motomamita · 23 days

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singledad!eddie × female!reader

warnings: smut, +18, breeding kink, no condom, use of alcohol, dub-con!!

Part. 2

Singledad!Eddie who tries his best to be a good single dad. He takes his little baby to his job at the record store, where he spends several hours a day to earn a salary high enough to buy diapers and powdered milk.

Until one afternoon you saw him in the trailer park with his baby and you couldn't help but come over to admire the little girl. You bent down to pick it up, neglecting yourself and quickly flashing your boobs at Eddie, who from that moment on didn't stop thinking about you.

You kindly offered to take care of his baby on the afternoons when Eddie worked overtime at work. You really loved babies and you imagined that Eddie was really exhausted considering he was a single father. At first he denied, not wanting to take advantage of your good intentions, but when you insisted that it wasn't a problem while looking at him with your bright eyes, he couldn't help but say yes.

After work, Eddie would knock on the door of your trailer to look for his little baby who was babbling with excitement when she saw him and you couldn't stop telling him how well she had behaved. As the days went by, you invited him into your trailer and served him a nice plate of warm food for dinner while you fed his baby with a warm feeding bottle. That drove Eddie even more crazy, who began to fantasize about the idea of having a small family with you and that it would become a routine. For that, he had to get you pregnant.

From then on, Eddie took advantage of every slightest excuse to see you and have you close to him. Did he need help putting his baby on a diaper? He was knocking on your door. Did he need help making a bottle of warm milk? He was knocking on your door. Did he need help giving his baby a cute hairstyle? He was knocking on your door.

Until one night, his baby wouldn't stop crying and he went straight to look for you.

"Little Lily doesn't want to go to sleep.." He explained, holding the little baby who couldn't stop crying while you entered his trailer. "I already gave her a bottle and even changed her diapers but I don't know what's going on!" He explained with exaggerated concern.

Your heart clenched as you heard the girl crying and how tired Eddie looked. "Oh! Poor little girl!" You murmured, approaching them and rubbing the little girl's back. "Do you have her pacifier handy?" you asked looking around his trailer.

"It is in her crib." He spoke remembering where he had left it.

You grabbed the little baby who rushed towards you, used to your scent and your secure hold. Eddie walked to the end of his trailer and you followed behind him, even with Lily crying intensely. The room was divided with pastel colors and bright toys on one side (obviously the baby's side), and a darker setting with rock posters on the other (Eddie's side).

"Here it is!" He exclaimed, approaching you and delicately placing the pacifier in the girl's mouth. Lily immediately stopped crying and began to suck on the light pink pacifier.

"That was what she needed" You smiled as you wiped the little girl's tears with one of your hands.

You both left the girl in the crib and half closed the door in case she cried again. Eddie walked you to the living room and bought you a beer, hoping that you would stay with him a little longer. You shared several beers until you were quite drunk and he was efficiently horny to take a step forward with you.

The kisses and caresses increased to the point where he had you naked under him in the mating press position. The summer heat made both of your bodies wet and his cum-filled balls slapped loudly against your butt. His thrusts were short but strong, giving you a rush of pleasure every time the tip of his cock hit your cervix, wanting to make you pregnant.

"Shit, baby.. You're so tight and wet, I bet you love fucking the single dad, huh?" his voice was agitated and low enough not to wake little Lily. You tried to respond but no coherent words came out of your mouth, only moans cut off by his aggressive thrusts.

Eddie took your hands and brought them above your head, immobilizing you almost completely. "I'm going to fuck you until your legs stop working- and you have to stay here with me forever.." He pressed your foreheads together, feeling his breath on your face. "...I'm going to make you my wife and you'll be here when I get home from work, in your slutty dresses, holding Lily in your arms... and with your stomach inflated with my baby inside you" you moaned loudly when you heard him and your legs took him. They hugged his waist tightly, bringing him closer to you.

Eddie used his free hand and brought it to your clit, massaging it vigorously and feeling how your walls enveloped his fat cock. "Keep your voice down, mommy, we don't want Lily to wake up before i get you pregnant..." he murmured and then silenced you with a rough, wet kiss.

"You're going to give me a beautiful baby, a little brother for my Lily..." at this point you could only nod your head like a fool, dazed by the pleasure and all the information. "Oh shit, I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum inside you and you're going to carry my baby with you..!"

After that meeting, both of you continued with your routines but without talking about what had happened, until one day you were the one who knocked on his door. In your left arm you held Lily and in your right hand you had a pregnancy test. Positive.

#eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #breeding k1nk #stranger things smut #singledad #singledad!eddie #dad!eddie munson

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chaoticconstellation · 2 years

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Crumbl Cookies Actual Chocolate Chip Recipe from a former employee who is no longer bound by their NDA:

to make approximately 35 cookies (or 140 minis!):

ingredients:

2 pounds of SALTED butter

1 pound of white sugar

1.5 pounds of brown sugar

8 whole eggs

4 pounds of flour

*half an ingredient pack* Crumbl has an ingredient packet that goes into their cookies to make sure that no one but corporate officially knows their recipes. however based on what is missing from a standard chocolate chip cookie recipe and what happens to the cookies if you forget the packet I have come up with this solution

5 tablespoons baking soda

5 tablespoons baking powder

2.75 pounds milk chocolate chips *** Crumbl originally used Ghirardelli but switched to their own brand in the summer of 2021.

Instructions:

preheat your oven to 290 degrees F or 143 C

soften your butters in your microwave, this step is crucial. you want them NOT at all melted, but soft enough to mold with your hands easily

put your butters and sugars into a large bowl, it’s easiest if this is a stand mixer, but if not an electric hand mixer is fine. you *may* attempt this by hand but i would recommend you don’t.

if you have levels choose your most medium level and beat your butter and sugar for 10 minutes. seriously. and it’s probably not done. scrape the sides, if there is any resistance it’s not done. the texture you’re going for is like passing your spatula through a cloud. you should feel no resistance, the mixture will be light, fluffy and if you feel it between your fingers it will be silky with *slight* sugary texture. imagine applying it to your face, it’s a daily cleanser not a weekly exfoliant.

when you’re pretty sure you got it to the right texture go for 1 more minute just to be safe.

now that’s over with turn your mixer down to 1, and add half of your eggs. let them mostly incorporate. all yolks should be broken and you should only see slight streaks of yellow. then add your second half of the eggs and look for the same consistency.

scrape the bottom of the bowl to make sure no yolks are hiding down there!

now add your flour all once! yup! mix it on low *just* until you see a dough start to form. There should still be plenty of unincorporated flour!!!

then add your chocolate chips.

mix until you have a smooth and consistent mixture.

crumbl cookies weighs each chocolate chip cookie at 5.5 ounces.

my best approximation is that you’ll be making about 35 cookies so go for that if you don’t have a scale.

the shape of the crumbl cookie can be achieved by making a large ball of dough then tearing off the top to leave a ripped top. those cracks and spikes are part of the signature. so you can skip this step if you just want a good cookie recipe.

*if you want to make the minis like Crumbl does for catering the weight is 1.3 ounces and the bake time is 10 minutes*

place on a parchment lined baking sheet leaving 2 inches between each cookie and the edges of the baking sheet. You can fit 9 on a standard cookie sheet.

bake your cookies for 16 minutes, rotating the pan 11 minutes in! (Crumbl has ovens the rotate while baking constantly so this will help even cooking times)

*important* i know the temptation to eat the cookies directly out of the oven is great. BUT. the cookies actually are not done baking fresh out of the oven! they bake outside of the oven in their own heat for 5 minutes while they cool! so wait at least 5 minutes or 10 if you have self control!

enjoy!!!

#crumbl cookies #chocolate chip cookie recipe #recipes #spite

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bleachification · 8 months

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⸻ JEALOUS, JEALOUS BOY

pairing: sanji x reader

word count: 5.7k

synopsis: life as a pirate is never boring, especially when your best friend is sanji—a flirtatious chef who can’t seem to sort out his feelings, or yours, for that matter. that makes things all the more complicated when you’re forced to go undercover and sanji is dragged along with you as your very fake husband. the million-dollar question is: when lines start blurring, how do you differentiate between what’s fake and what’s real?

+ + + + + + + + + + + + +

“We broke up.”

“How long? Two months?”

You shrug. “I stopped counting anniversaries after the first couple of failed ones.”

Sanji swings his knife a tad too forcefully. The loud THUD of it smashing into the cutting board causes you to jump. You peer over the counter and grimace at the sight.

“God, what did that poor tuna ever do to you?”

Sanji continues slicing into the red flesh, more aggressively than before, but still with the same care and precision that he affords every ingredient he touches.

“Why?”

“Why what?” You lift your gaze to his face, smiling softly at the concentration twisting his features. It’s one of the things you admire greatly about Sanji—the sheer dedication and love he has for his craft.

“Why did you break up with him?” Sanji repeats. He’s chopping up a variety of garnish now. Again, with more aggression than necessary.

You raise a brow, but decide not to comment on it.

“What makes you think I was the one who called it quits?”

He sets the knife down and turns to you, blonde bangs falling across his face. Sanji flashes you his signature flirtatious smile, but there’s a strange hint of tension attached to it.

“Who would ever think to break up with you?” He leans in, gaze darkening. “They would have to be crazy.”

You pull back, rolling your eyes. He’s always like this. Coy. Intimate. The ultimate womanizer. Sometimes… you wish it could be different.

“Well, he must have been crazy then.”

“What?” Sanji pauses, confusion etches his expression. “You… wait… he broke up with you?!”

“Don’t sound so surprised. He only beat me to it by a week. I had the decency to try and wait until after Valentines,” you note. You aren’t particularly broken up about the whole thing. Your ex is barely an ex—a summer fling, if anything. But Sanji, on the other hand, is acting as if some horrible crime has been committed.

“I’ll kill him.”

You blink. “Okay. A bit of an overreaction.”

“How dare he…” Sanji mumbles, not hearing you. His hand tightly grips the knife handle, and you swear the temperature just dropped even in the presence of boiling pots and simmering roux.

“Alright, enough. Don’t be so dramatic,” you laugh, moving to gently pry his fingers from their iron grip on the handle. He lets you—watching as you take the blade from him, and relishing in the soft feel of your skin against his. He itches to grab your hand and pull you closer. But he doesn’t. He won’t.

He can’t.

Sanji learned very quickly that his charms and gimmicks weren’t going to work on you. In all fairness, they rarely do, but for some unfathomable reason, he can’t seem to let that particular rejection go. He will always resent that part of him for pushing you away and drawing that boundary—a line you both delicately toe, never to cross over to each other’s side.

Your first meeting was… disastrous, to say the least. Sanji had just met the crew, and was tripping over himself to impress Nami, when you had made your way back to the others after a quick break in the powder room.

You had witnessed all of his shameless flirting and blatant promiscuity on your way back. You immediately took a strong dislike to the blonde chef, his behaviour reminiscent of exes that were none too pleasant.

“I’m back.”

At the sound of your voice, Sanji beamed, turning to strike up another flowery bombardment of compliments and flattery… only to freeze in place when he saw you.

For once, his silver tongue lacked its luster, fumbling before the sight of you.

For once, he knew not what to say or do. He could only stare. Only admire and behold.

“Good job. You broke the chef,” Zoro deadpanned.

You pulled an expression of slight concern and mild annoyance.

“Um… are you alright?” You waved a hand across Sanji’s face. No reaction. The rest of the crew barely paid him any mind, too busy either eating, drinking… or arguing, in Nami and Zoro’s case.

You slipped into the booth next to Zoro, choosing to ignore the bizarre situation, when a deep, rumbling voice belonging to a peg-legged old man boomed from across Baratie.

“SANJI!”

It snapped Sanji out of his stupor, grounding him back into reality.

“Marry me.”

But perhaps not logic.

“What?”

Zoro pulled a face of disgust eerily similar to your own. Somewhere in the background, you vaguely heard Ussop choking on his drink. Nami clapped thunderously on his back. Is she trying to help him or kill him?

Luffy, through all of this, watched with bright, curious eyes.

“Yuuummphh fuu’yyy,” exclaimed Luffy, his mouth full of bread, gravy, and what you can only assume is a whole ribeye steak.

Zoro turned his disgust toward the captain. “Are you kidding?”

Luffy scarfed down another forkful of food, grinning wide as he swallowed the last of his meal. He patted his stomach, content, before turning his attention back to Sanji.

“You’re funny!” He laughed.

“That’s what you were trying to say?!”

Luffy ignored Zoro’s exasperation and just giggled in his usual carefree manner. Sanji ignored them all, choosing only you to spare his attention. You shifted uncomfortably, tension coursing through your veins at the way he watched you. As if you were the greatest treasure in all of the Four Seas and he was the king of the pirates—a man would do anything to covet it. Covet you.

Zoro and Luffy didn’t seem to grasp the situation as they continued to bicker in the background.

“Boys. Stop… FIGHTING!” Nami barked out. A swift smack from the ginger settled them both down, each sulking in a corner as she berated them for their behaviour.

You took a deep breath, willing your nerves to calm. You met Sanji’s eyes and they shone with hope.

“You want me to marry you?”

“Yes. Desperately,” he breathed out.

If heart eyes were real, they would beat within the passion of his gaze. Strong. Intense. Unabashed. You despised it. How could he look at you in that way after mere moments of greetings? It was lust. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“SANJI, GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE!”

Sanji clenched his jaw at the voice, frustration and irritation barely contained. His expression smoothed over as he spoke to you.

“Think it over?”

You raise a brow. “What? The proposal?”

“Precisely that,” he smiled. Gorgeous asshole.

“Over my dead body,” you scoffed. Your rejection didn’t seem to deter him though, the grin on his face still present even as he left for the kitchen.

So many sleepless nights later and Sanji still can’t help but sigh whenever he remembers that day. He wishes he could take back his words, his actions… his everything. Maybe you would love him back if he did. Maybe you wouldn’t be dating morons who don’t even come close to deserving you—not that he does, but he would try.

For you, he would try it all.

Your soft voice breaks him out of his trip down memory lane.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal,” you reassure.

Sanji wants to shout, But it is! Don’t you get that? How could losing you not be a big deal?

Instead, he shakes his head and takes a long draw from his cigarette. He watches the clouds waft up in lazy rings, circle around your head, and disintegrate into the kitchen heat. Sanji finds it increasingly difficult to meet your eyes.

“Are you alright, love?”

His genuine concern for you makes you smile. “I’m alright, Sanji. I wasn’t that attached, anyway.”

That twinkle in his eyes. It's back again.

“Really? Then what about my initial offer?” he jokes. Though it doesn’t sound like a joke to him. Doesn’t feel like one either.

“What are you talking about?” You ask. You take a spoonful of the broth and bring it to your lips, ignorant of the tense atmosphere. At least until the magnitude of Sanji’s next words drops.

“You know… marrying me.” Sanji holds his breath.

Shit. Why did I say that? He thinks, regretfully.

You falter, the spoon quickly forgotten in the pot. Your appetite disappears just as swiftly.

“Everytime I think we’re having a nice, serious conversation, you just have to go and… say something like that. Aren’t you bored of it? Tired of all the false promises and sweet talk?” You shake your head and stand up to leave.

“[Name], I–”

You cut him off. “I’m disappointed, Sanji.”

“Please, just hear–”

The kitchen door bursts open to show Usopp, who hurriedly beckons you both outside.

“Crew meeting, come on!”

Sanji turns to you, about to say something else, but you ignore him and follow Usopp out into the hallway and up to the deck. Sanji has no choice but to do the same.

Winter has arrived in the form of early nights and fresh snowfall—as if the chilling temperature itself isn’t enough of an indicator. Your breath crystallizes in the air as the three of you venture outside to where you meet the rest of the crew.

Nami has a large sheet of parchment spread flat across the floor with each member of the crew positioned around it in a wide circle. Upon closer inspection, you realize it isn’t one of her usual cartographic maps. It’s a blueprint. And the subject of it… is a castle?

“Nami, what is this?” You ask as you take a seat next to her.

With a pen, she circles a small room located in the eastern wing of the building’s upper level. It sits above a sprawling space. A ballroom, you wager. The schematics look complicated enough.

Nami begins to explain. “This is a blueprint of Ceres Palace, a high-security manor sitting atop the nearest port city. It is home to a powerful noble family…”

She flips the paper over. “…and this.”

A mass of glimmering golden ink shines under the moonlight, every meticulously painted stroke deliberate and delicate. The image is clear.

“Is that a devil fruit?” Robin inquires, eyes narrowing.

“One crafted from solid gold and pure diamond dust, gilded with sea jadeite. It is the most monetarily valuable ‘devil fruit’ in the world, depending on who you ask,” Nami answers. She flips the parchment again. “And we are going to steal it.”

“Wait a damn minu-“

“Hold on-“

“Are we sure that’s-“

A chorus of protests and concerns rise from the rest of the crew, and for good reason. From just a first glance of the palace grounds, you can tell this will be a risky heist, and something in your gut tells you that there’s more to it.

Nami shuts them all up with a pointed glare.

“Do you realize how long I spent drawing up this stupid thing?! One more word from any of you and I will shove it down your throat. Whole,” she threatens.

No one speaks.

“Good. Now, as I was saying, this heist will consist of two parts. The actual theft and the distraction.”

Sanji raises his hand. Nami points at him and nods.

“Why, exactly, are we stealing someone’s gold…er…artifact? I get that we’re pirates but… a bit out of the way, isn’t it?”

Nami, Ussop, and Chopper sigh in unison. The latter ambles your way and climbs into your lap, snuggling for warmth.

“Hello baby,” you murmur. You smile softly as the little reindeer tucks himself into your welcome embrace. You give Chopper a scratch under the chin before turning your attention back to the conversation at hand.

Zoro barely pays any attention, head bobbing a bit. He’s already falling asleep. Typical. Robin, on the other hand, seems to recognize the object.

“I’ve heard of this. Its original name was The Monarch’s Heart. It belonged to the royal family of that island. Twenty years ago, the king’s most trusted advisor spearheaded a coup d’état and a violent rebellion broke out, ending with the execution of the royal family, as well as the usurpation of the former, now exiled, king.” Robin crouches and lightly brushes the blueprint, tracing along its curves. “All this time, the Heart was believed to have been lost amidst war. You’re saying one of the nobles stole it?”

Nami scratches her head and grimaces. “Well, yeah, kinda.”

“What do you mean, ‘kinda’”? You ask.

“We don’t have any proof. Not really,” she shrugs.

“So, again, why are we doing this?” Sanji reiterates.

“We have proof!” Luffy grins. Your captain finally speaks up, too preoccupied with messing with a sleeping Zoro moments ago.

“Luffy—” Nami starts.

“What? I believe the old man. He’s a good guy.” Luffy pats his stomach. “He fed me.”

“What old man?” You’re getting more and more confused as the meeting drags on.

“Luffy. You met the exiled king, didn’t you?” Robin’s eyes twinkle with curiosity.

“Um… I don’t know? I forgot his name but he was nice. Told me about how his stuff got stolen unfairly so I promised to get it back for him.”

“So you don’t even know if he’s telling the truth? What if he was the bad guy, and the nobles who took over overthrew a tyrant?” Sanji blows smoke from his cigarette as he prods.

“He was not,” Robin states factually. “The king was known to be kind and benevolent, catering only to the needs of his people. Since that nation's birth, the royal faction was always at odds with the avaricious nobility. That tension came to a head in the form of a brutal uprising. Though massacre is much more fitting of a description for what occurred.”

“Mhm, mhm, mhm.” Luffy nods vigorously at her words. “So we’re gonna get his gold back for him.”

“Liberating another nation, are we?” Zoro yawns, barely waking up.

“Seems like it,” Nami sighs.

“It’s what the captain wants,” Robin smiles.

“And what Luffy wants…” you begin.

Everyone else groans.

“Luffy gets.”

“So…” Sanji shifts next to you. Closer. His warmth clouds your senses a little and you try to ignore the dizzying effect it has on you. “How do we do this, exactly?”

“I bust down the door and slice ‘em up,” Zoro offers.

“In your dreams, Mosshead. I could take down—”

You pinch his side. Sanji jumps and turns to you, a slight pout on his face. Despite what happened earlier, you find yourself trying not to laugh.

“You’re not doing that, Zoro,” Chopper scolds.

The swordsman tsks. “Fine. Then how the hell are we actually pulling this off?”

Nami explains the plan.

Sanji turns white.

Your mouth drops open. “Excuse me?!”

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　

“Oh god, I’m going to throw up.”

Robin chuckles as she hands you silken gloves. “Don’t worry. You’ll do just fine. Remember, get in, pull the alarm, get out.”

“Easier said than done,” you grumble.

The plan is actually much more complex than what Robin makes it out to be.

The palace itself has two separate alarm systems—one for the vault, and another in case of fire. If both are activated at the same exact moment, they cause a complete system break, and the fire alarm overrides the theft security, forcing an evacuation with everyone none the wiser.

The plan is for you and Sanji to infiltrate the party under the pretense of a foreign dignitary and his spouse, survey and locate the alarm, cause a distraction, and pull the alarm the precise moment Nami unlocks the vault. All communicated via Den Den Mushi earpieces.

Easy peasy.

Your clothing sticks to you uncomfortably—tight in areas you don’t normally expose to the world. The scented oil in your hair makes you smell like you had just popped fresh out of the oven. A layered film of glittering makeup rests on your features, rendering the person in the mirror a complete, hapless stranger.

“Why did it have to be me?”

And Sanji?

You don’t voice that last bit.

“Nami’s the thief, the other boys would blow their covers immediately, I have other matters to attend to, and Chopper… Well, Chopper’s a reindeer.”

You run a hand through your hair. Anxiety claws at your skin. You feel a sudden urge to feign illness and rid yourself of this ridiculous plan.

“Must we pose as a couple? Surely there are other ways,” you implore.

“The invites we swiped were from married nobles,” Robin reminds.

You groan. Robin pats your shoulder supportively.

“There there. Don’t fret, you’ll do fine. Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Robin gives you another encouraging pat before she ushers you out of the dressing room.

You make your way outside, shivering slightly as the winter winds bite into your skin. The thin fabric of your garments do nothing to shield the cold.

Someone lets out a sharp inhale. You turn towards the noise. Sanji stands to your left, clutching an envelope in hand. His usual suave demeanour is displaced by an air of buzzing anxiety and a starstruck expression.

He’s dressed in a sleek three-piece black suit. It pains you how devastatingly handsome he looks.

“You clean up nice,” you note.

“I…uh. You—Sorry, yeah, what?” Sanji replies, all smooth and intelligent.

“…Pardon?”

Robin watches the entire interaction with a pained grimace. Having enough, she steps up and gently steers you towards Sanji.

“Hurry up, now. They’re expecting you both soon. Don’t forget to stay in character, lest you end up blowing your covers.” She winks at you both, but you can’t help but think it was directed more towards Sanji.

“Shall we?”

Seemingly recovered from whatever alien had possessed him seconds ago, the chef offers you his arm with a small smile. You place your hand around his bicep and try to ignore his rippling muscles underneath your fingertips.

“Color me surprised. I really thought you’d have showered me with compliments by now,” you joke.

“I thought you didn’t like that part of me.”

Disappointment blooms in your chest.

“Right. I don’t. I just…” you trail off. You just thought you looked nice tonight. And maybe a small part of you was hoping he felt the same.

“Never mind.”

You slip your hand out of the crook of Sanji’s arm and start walking a little bit faster, hoping he doesn’t notice the conflicting emotions on your face.

When Sanji first joined the crew, you made yourself a promise: that you would never fall for his charms. But as time went on and he showed you a mountain of kindness, understanding, and empathy… that promise, steadily, became much harder to keep and much easier to forget. It wasn’t his flirting and charms that were dangerous—it was the man buried underneath all that playful pretense. A man who has stubbornly found his way into your guarded heart, despite your best efforts of keeping him out.

It was always easier that way. Easier to turn away, to shut him out. Easier to walk away when you catch him with others who drew his interest and to stop listening as he murmurs sweet nothings in their ears—the very ones he had whispered to you. It was easier to accept that you are not, and will not, be special to him.

You refuse to be just another mark in his book of conquests, and if all it takes is a silent heartbreak to avoid such a fate, so be it. You’ve survived much worse before.

The palace soon comes into view, a grand structure that stretches into the vertical horizon. The path towards the marbled entrance is busy with bustling guests and the glowing orbs of rainbow fireflies. You steadily, and as elegantly as possible, make your way towards the host out in front.

“Good evening, may I see your invitations for the night?” He asks, gloved hand outstretched in expectation.

Sanji flashes him a million-berry smile. “Of course, my good sir. I have them right here.”

He pulls out the envelope you had seen earlier from inside his black suit jacket. The greeter accepts the documents and diligently scans them. After a few seconds, he nods, satisfied by what he sees, and hands the papers back to Sanji.

“Enjoy your night.” He moves aside to let you pass and holds an arm out, guiding you both through the white stone doors.

As soon as you step through the entrance , you are greeted by a foyer fit for kings. A cascading staircase blanketed by red velvet leads to even larger double doors, both white like the walls, but trimmed with gold linings and spiral handles. A crystal chandelier, bigger than you ever thought possible, hangs from the ceiling. It casts shining diamonds in every reflection of the room.

Sanji holds out his arm for you again as you both prepare to execute the mission, but you don’t immediately go to take it. Sanji must sense your hesitation because he sighs and gives you a strained, yet still affectionate smile.

“[Name], please. If not for me, then for appearances. We’re married, remember?”

“Fake married,” you correct, although you relent and slip your hand in the crook of his elbow anyway.

“You don’t have to remind me.”

Arm in arm, Sanji leads you to the ballroom. The doors open to reveal hundreds of nobles draped in silk and pearls, dining on delicacies, and mingling with others of their same social echelon. You already want to go home.

You both find a small table tucked into a corner and stand around it.

“We have to wait until Nami gives us the signal. First, let’s blend in and make sure to look like we belong,” you whisper.

Sanji leans in to hear you better. “What do you suggest? We could hit the banquet table, the food doesn’t look half bad.”

You peer over his shoulder at the platters of hor d'oeuvres and fancy desserts. “They don’t look nearly as good as what you make.”

“Was that a compliment?” Sanji grins.

“Don’t get used to it. Your heads already far too big,” you smirk.

“I don’t have that much of an ego,” he grumbles, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve.

“Hey, don’t do that.” You gently swat at his hand, admonishing him for trying to pull the string out.

“Why? It’s annoying.”

“Yeah, but you’ll ruin it even more if you just yank at it. Hold on.” You pluck a small oyster shucker from a passing waitress’s pocket, with her none the wiser. With the knife, you smoothly cut away the thread and flick it into a bin behind you.

Sanji stares at you in awe. “Did you just pickpocket the…”

“Not a word.”

“Got it.”

“Anyway, we don’t want to ruin these clothes. They’re borrowed. And so much nicer than what we’re used to.”

You pull at your collar to adjust it, only to realize Sanji is staring at you again, but with a different glint in his eyes. One with more… heat. It is only now that you realize how close you are to him—pressed up against his side, thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, as you both converse away from the crowd. Sanji exudes warmth that, mixed with your own cluttered feelings, makes you a bit dizzy. You take a step back. Sanji’s gaze never leaves you.

“Did I tell you earlier how good you look?”

You swallow. “No.”

He steps closer, closing the gap again. “You look good. Really, really good.”

“Thanks. Formal clothing does wonders.” Your laugh comes out more nervous than you intended.

“Unbelievably good,” he murmurs, almost to himself—like he can’t believe what’s right in front of him.

“Sanji–”

A screeching violin note interrupts you and the strange moment you both got caught up in. Sanji snaps back to his usual self and quickly shakes his head, as if clearing away a fog.

“Food,” he coughs.

You blink. “Right. Food.”

“I’m gonna…” Sanji motions towards the buffet.

You’ve never seen him this… awkward. You’re not sure what to make of it.

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’m gonna scope out the place and figure out where the alarm is.”

He stiffly nods, then makes his way across the ballroom. You turn heel and begin walking along the corridors, scanning for anything that may resemble an alarm.

A static noise crackles in your right ear.

“Can…I—“

A sudden spike of sharp feedback makes you wince.

“Sorry! Can you hear me?” Nami’s voice pipes up.

“Yes. Comms are working. What am I looking for, Nami?”

“Something resembling a button, maybe? Look for a red button or something along those lines.”

“Understood..”

After about ten minutes of searching, you finally come upon it, a small red lever nestled in a corner behind the bar, protected by a square glass casing.

You spot Sanji across the room, mid-conversation with a beautiful, young noble. Your chest twinges, but you push the feeling away. His eyes flit to yours and you subtly wave him over, gesturing to the alarm handle.

Sanji excuses himself and briskly makes his way to you.

“You found it?”

“Of course. It’s the whole reason we’re here, remember?” You ignore the lump in your throat.

“Sorry, I got distracted. I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine, Sanji. You were having fun. You don’t have to apologize. Did you get her number at least?” You try and coolly play it off.

His eyebrows knit together. “No. No, I—”

“Anyway, we should figure out how to distract the bartender. He’s the only one who is in the way.”

If Sanji notices your blatant attempt at changing the subject, he doesn’t show it.

“Sure. Any ideas, beautiful?”

“One.”

“What’s the plan?”

You fidget with your sleeve. “He’s been eyeing me all night.”

Sanji makes a disapproving noise. “...I noticed.”

“I’ll distract him. You get the alarm,” you shrug.

Sanji’s eyes narrow. “How, exactly, are you going to do that?”

“C’mon, Sanji, you can’t be that dense. I’m going to seduce him.”

His reply is immediate and final. “No.”

You balk at his flat tone. “What do you mean: no?”

“No. As in opposite of yes. As in absolutely not,” he hisses.

“Sanji. I have t-”

“No as in not okay!”

You place a hand over his mouth in an effort to stop his outburst. “Shhh! Stop that. Are you trying to draw attention to us?!”

He pulls your arm away, undeterred by your growing panic of being found out. “If it’ll get you to reconsider, then yes!”

“Sanji, enough. What is wrong with you? Why are you so worked up?”

“Do you seriously have to ask that?” He cries out, exasperated.

You open your mouth to retort, but Nami’s voice interrupts you.

“Sorry to break up whatever dumb fight this is, but I need someone to pull the alarm in exactly 60 seconds.”

You give Sanji an expectant look. He firmly shakes his head.

“Not happening.”

Before you can stop him, the chef makes his way to the bar, stumbling as if drunk. Before you know what’s happening, Sanji pulls a whiskey bottle from behind the bar, much to the bartender's protests and dismay. He takes a large swig, and you blow out a breath of relief when he sets it down.

Then he picks it back up again. You watch in horror as he lifts the bottle up and… accidentally pours the entire thing onto the champagne tower beside him. The glasses overflow, and the weight of the extra liquid becomes too much. One by one, the glasses come tumbling down in a landslide of alcohol and crystal.

The bartender cries out in distress. Sanji is unapologetic.

You run to the alarm amidst the mess.

“Ready, [name]?”

“Whenever you are, Nami.”

She begins counting down and the moment you hear: Now!, you pull the handle.

All hell breaks loose.

Blaring alarms ring out, drowning out every other possible sound. Sprinklers sprout from the ceiling and rain down on the partygoers, soaking them and the luxury furniture. Hundreds of panicked patrons scramble to leave, directed by equally flustered staff.

You feel a tug on your sleeve. It’s Sanji.

He tries saying something but is drowned out by the chaos around you. Frustrated, he beckons you over and motions for you to follow him.

After a couple minutes of navigating through screaming nobility, you end up on a secluded balcony away from all the activity. The alarms are barely louder than bells on this end of the palace.

You take a second to catch your breath. Both of you are drenched to the bone, and the chilly winter air does nothing to help your chattering teeth.

Sanji notices your shivering form and immediately drapes his jacket over your shoulders.

You smile gratefully at him, but falter when you see the frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Take it out.”

You blink. “What?”

“The earpiece. Take it out,” he says, impatient.

“Why?”

Sanji runs a hand through his hair in both irritation and anxiousness. “Because I’m going to confess my love for you and I don’t want everyone to hear it. They’d never let me live it down, especially that green-haired freak.”

You freeze. Your thoughts freeze. Every fucking thing stops dead in it’s tracks, including your heart.

“Sanji, this isn’t funny.” Your voice trembles.

“Baby, take the earpiece out. Let me talk to you,” he asks softly.

You don’t say anything, you don’t trust yourself to. With shaking hands, you take the Den Den Mushi out and turn it off.

It is only you and Sanji now.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you echo.

“[Name].”

God, why does he have to say your name in that way? Like it means something more than friends—like it’s worth its weight in both diamonds and gold.

“This still isn’t funny.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking,” he says, tone as serious as you’ve ever heard it.

You sigh. “What are we doing, Sanji?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to confess my undying love to my favourite person in the world. It’s scary.”

“You say that—”

“I mean it,” he interjects.

“What makes me different? What makes me…”

Worthy of your love?

Sanji reaches for you, but stops himself at your expression. You continue questioning his words.

“How do I know this isn’t just some temporary thing? A fleeting crush?” You swallow hard. For some reason, you’re unable to meet his steady gaze. “How do I know this is real?”

He rubs the back of his neck, conflicting emotions flickering across his face. Sanji struggles to find the words needed to convince you. He tries his best, anyway.

“I know what my reputation is like. I know the personality I present to the world. But after I met you, none of it seemed worth it anymore. There was no appeal to living that type of life,” he pauses. Sanji lifts his head and stares straight at you, unwavering in his words. “The moment I saw you, I thought I’d die if I couldn’t be yours. I still think that now.”

Oh. Your chest is trying to kill you. That’s the only explanation for the ache you feel.

“I trust you with my life, Sanji. But not my heart.”

The alarms have stopped by now. Soon, people will come trickling back inside and the mission will be over. This moment in time will soon fade into the background of reality.

“I only ask that you give me a chance.”

“What makes you so sure that you’re the kind of guy I want to be with?”

“As opposed to your exes? Those guys—none of them deserved you,” he scoffs, annoyed at the mere mention of them.

You raise a brow. “Do you?”

“No. Of course not,” he answers. “But I want to try. Please, god, let me try.”

Your hands are still shaking, but not from the cold.

“We should get back to the ship,” you say, a strained smile on your face.

Sanji’s face falls at your deflection, but he accepts it and doesn’t push. He nods, and you both make your way back to the Merry, an uncomfortable silence hanging over you like a wet blanket.

You are only a couple hundred meters out from the ship when you stop abruptly. Sanji almost crashes into you, but steadies himself at the last second.

“Is something wrong?” He asks in concern.

Before you can lose your nerve, you whirl around and utter two words: “One date.”

It takes Sanji a few moments to understand what you just said, but when he does, he lights up like a kid on Christmas Eve. One who just met Santa. The sheer joy on his face makes it all worth it.

“You’re not messing with me, right? Please say no,” he shakily pleads.

You shake your head. “One. Make it count.”

Instead of answering, he throws his arms around you, wrapping you in his warm embrace.

You loop your arms around his neck and he melts into you, never wanting to let go.

“I’ll make you say yes to a second one. And then a third. And then a lifetime of dates after that. I swear it on my honour as a chef.”

“It’ll have to be a pretty damn good date then,” you laugh.

Sanji presses his forehead on yours.

“It’ll be the best date.”

“And how do you know that?” You tease.

“Because you will be there.”

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˚ · . tags: @zjarrmiii @aiizenn @emyyy007

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ch4mpagnedrought · 8 days

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compensation

[full series]

mdni ! art donaldson

summary: you and art cant help but try and compensate for everything you’re missing out on now that tashi and patrick are together.

ever since tashi had suggested a game of tennis for her number and patrick won, its left you and art to roam around the stanford campus like two little lost puppies, begging for their attention when patrick comes to visit tashi.

patrick has made it impossible to get a hold of the girl, her dorm room always locked and her absence in the daily work-outs the two of you usually have made very obvious. not to mention the betrayal art must be feeling, having his best friend be only in the adjacent building to him, but never coming to actually see him.

you’ve had to find ways to preoccupy yourselves, and stop you from going on an angry rampage, like;

hitting racket to ball in the middle of the court, not even bothering to play a real game. “my prof is making me rewrite my whole assignment this week.” you complain, aiming the ball at the green fencing at the sides and watching it bounce back in art’s direction for your own botched version of squash. he laughs loudly, “who knew you were so bad at everything besides tennis.” you shoot him a scowl and his eyes widen, shoulders shrugging unapologetically as he swings his arm once again.

spring fading into summer means that evenings still have a little light in them, and you fight the urge to lie straight down on the tarmac and look up at the greying sky. the light breeze washes through art’s strawberry blonde hair, swaying it to the side to expose his brows that furrow when you let the ball bounce away between your legs, looking at him with a tense expression. the thought that tashi and patrick were somewhere doing god knows what (you knew what) and completely ignoring you made a reappearance in your head suddenly, and it boiled your blood. “ugh! im gonna kill them!” you huff out, grabbing the ball from the ground and stomping to where you left your stuff. art’s arm finding the both of your shoulders, “ditto that.”

having lunch at the food hall together: waiting in line for the same exact salad that you get every day, curtesy of your game-preparation meal plan and taking a seat on the bar stools that overlook the rest of the campus. stabbing your fork into the frail pieces of lettuce in your plastic bowl, art taking another bite of his churro in silence and licking away all the rouge sugar particles from his lips. “you know, patrick didn’t even bother to call me about his visit.” art says, taking off his red baseball cap just to put it back on his head again. “what a dog.” you scoff, shaking your head and taking a sip of your smoothie that tastes a little grainy from the protein powder. you would’ve continued to rant if you hadn’t spotted tashi and patrick walking hand-in-hand in the distance, all smiles and giggles; it makes you sick. “look.” you point it out to art and he mocks patrick in a high-pitched voice, “hey tashi aren’t i so cool? i play pro and i’m totally not cheating on you.” you chuckle, leaning over to snag a bite of his churro.

and confiding in each other in art’s dorm late at night, when the haunting noises coming from the other side of your wall get too much.

his room is surprisingly so…boyish. a couple posters of tennis stars on the walls that seem so out of place, like he put them there for the sole purpose of taking up space. his medals are hung up on the corner of his wardrobe, tinkering on the edge and there is an unidentified pile of clothing in the corner.

his sheets are a deep maroon colour and you lie flat across them, both of your heads leaning on the single flat pillow he owns, legs crossed. his ceiling has remnants of a water leak the university tried to paint over and you study it from below. “i wonder what they’re doing right now.” art hums, putting his hands behind his head, and letting you rest your head on his bicep.

you shoot up, glancing down at him, one brow lifted and eyes narrow, “i can tell you exactly what they’re doing right now,” you say, scrambling up onto your knees, “’patrick i need your racket right now!’’’ you moan tauntingly, rolling your eyes back and crossing your arms over your chest. art cackles, stomach contracting and grabbing onto your shoulder for support. his hand is pumping warm with blood, hovering over your skin for longer than socially acceptable, and his fingers caressed by the long strands of your curly hair that fall at your sides.

running over to his room meant that you hadn’t had enough time to grab a change of clothes to sleep in, so he graciously lent you one of his t-shirts, a navy one with white embroidered writing that you hadn’t bothered to read, which prods at the aching in his head to see you without it.

“when was the last time you slept with someone?” your question catches art off guard, lying back down next to him and watching the blush creep up onto his cheeks, eyes darting away somewhere to think of an answer. “oh come on, was it that unforgettable?” you laugh. he knew when exactly when the last time was, but the thought that him sleeping with someone had crossed your mind, putting the idea of the two of you together into his own had clouded his head, making it unbearably difficult to think, or speak.

“maybe last month” art estimates when the last time he saw the girl in one of his classes that he casually slept with from time to time, your expression remaining unchanged, which whirls something inside of his stomach. you nod, smile spreading across your lips, and eyes glancing down to art’s partially parted ones. art adjusts himself, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at you, “when was the last time that you slept with someone?”

its unclear to him whether you're joking with your response. “ask me that tomorrow.” it spins his head until he sees double, having to shut his eyes for a second to regain consciousness. your nonchalant smile quite frankly irks him, because you seem so unaware of how he is sliding the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, preparing just incase you decide that you want to kiss him. or the fact that he moved his leg upwards along the bed to cover his raging boner at just the mere idea of you and him together.

the shirt he lends you rides up on your hips, obviously showing off the black panties that you’re wearing and the neck-line hangs low enough to show the indent of your collarbone that he imagines licking a stripe over.

you thrum, looking up at art through dark eyelashes, “isn’t it so unfair how tashi and patrick can ignore us just to get at each other?”

he got the hint, every crumb you’ve put down he’s followed and scooped up all in one go, sighing out a weak, “yeah” that sounds more like a whine, and leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

the taste of your lip gloss he had missed sweetens his mouth immediately and the faint smell of a chocolatey lotion on your skin sends him into complete overdrive, left hand desperately reaching for the side of your face to take you deeper into him. he sinks himself down, pressing his chest into yours and disconnecting his lips to breathe out a groan at the sensation of your boobs against him like a boy who's never felt them before.

his face is burning hot, lips even hotter as they move simultaneously with yours, covering the perimeter of your mouth with long and drawn out movements to fully get the taste of you hes been dreaming of ever since that hotel room. his hands roam down to the curvature of your waist, taking a strong grip to it to make sure his fingerprints forever remember it, then down to your hips, kneading the flesh.

with him over you, he pulls away from your arms that are wrapped around his neck, pulling the hem of his shirt to unveil your midriff and the black lace that frames your lower waist, your thighs pressed together to catch the heat that he manifests within you, “oh my god.” it might just be the lewdest sight he has ever seen, along with your swollen lips that are glistening with his saliva.

he can barely keep away the moans that try to escape his mouth when he lowers himself down to you, eager lips pressing into your hip, lapping at the surface of your skin with a desperation only art could have, along the hem of your panties, and back up your stomach while your fingers entangle with his blonde locks.

your pulse quickens, exhaling his name out when his finger pulls your underwear to the side, letting the air hit your leaking core, a smile playing at art’s lips. “please, please art.” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the sensation of one of his digits swiping through your folds overcome you.

he nibbles at your inner thighs, soft licks soothing the area as one of his fingers slides inside you, while the other gropes at your breast through your shirt. his mind is completely consumed by you, watching every change in your expression with his fingers pumping in and out of you, flush on your face and brows knitting every time he draws back.

your legs instinctively move over his shoulders, trapping him around you to continue the motion and giving him the chance to tilt his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the thigh that is thrown over him. “is this okay?” he asks, caressing a hand down your calf and watching the way your hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist.

“lie down art” you keen, his eyes narrow and he pulls back with a sense of confusion that is overrode with your impatience, ushering him below you. so he does, leaning against the headboard whilst you throw yourself onto his hips, his jaw tilting upwards to unconsciously fulfil the want of his lips devouring the whole of your figure.

the shirt he lent you doesn’t last long, ending up in the pile on his floor and letting him ravish in the sight of your bare torso. he gasps out your name, wandering hands reaching out to massage your breast, flesh filling out the gaps between all five of his fingers. “take this off” you strangle out, gesturing to the shirt he is wearing, disheveled hair falling back into his face that burns hot when you let your eyes roam down to his abdomen. even the weight of your ass pressing into his dick through his shorts is teetering him to climax, hands not knowing where to put themselves when he wants to grab a hold of all of you.

your fingers wrap around the waistband of his shorts that he is wearing, pulling down his boxers at the same time and freeing his erection to slap back onto his stomach, recalling something patrick said about the time he taught art to jerk off. the palm of your hand ghosts his cock, restraining yourself from taking it into your hands there and then, “can i?” even the way you sigh out the question has the hairs on art’s arms standing up and mouth swallowing saliva in anticipation. “yes, yes.” he whines, brows furrowing up at you and all of his muscles tensing.

with a gentle touch, he guides you above him, his hands at your sides as you spread yourself open for him, sinking down only to the tip before he grabs your waist and pauses in the position. he looks like a little helpless, bottom lip between his teeth and an alarmed look in his face that says if you go any further he’ll come right now. “i’ll go slow,” you whisper, a small smirk on your face that’s hard to resist when his shimmering eyes try to find the last slither of dignity within him, “i promise.” you smile reassuringly and he glances away, the flush in his cheeks getting a little deeper.

you keep your promise, slowly lowering yourself down onto him, goosebumps fevering your skin and palms laying flat across his abdomen to steady yourself.

taking him in completely, you whimper out his name and his hands journey to graze your back, up to your shoulder blades where he presses them into you to pull you into him, mouth suctioning down the valley of your breasts. his moans vibrate back into your skin when you pull back up from him, stimulating every single nerve ending in his length like it never has before. you set a pace, slow and steady for art, snapping your hips down onto his in a way that knocks the wind out of you each time, gasping for air. he keeps you close to him, rolling his hips to meet you in the middle and put some of that athlete stamina to use and murmuring your name with every movement.

his finger moves your hair from your shoulder, so he can press soft pecks onto the surface, whilst you clutch the wooden headboard, growing impatient and consequently pounding him into you. his moans purr into your ear, grabbing onto your ass to keep you still as he thrusts himself into you from below and shakily calling out an, “im gonna come.”

you nod, clasping around his biceps and leaning down to nip at his neck, losing composure the more your walls contract around him. you ignore the muscles in your legs that ache and your lungs that can’t seem get a hold of the air that is shared between you to continue to mercilessly plunge him deeper into you until it feels like you’re melting into one another, a shudder sending itself down your bare back and deepening the heat that builds in your core.

art is panting, popping your tit into his mouth one last time before falling still, twitching inside of you and releasing all of his seed into you until it overflows from below. your name echoes out of his mouth, whimpering and whining it out until he can open his eyes back up and centre his vision on you burning every last bit of energy to bounce on his dick.

you lean forward onto him, eyes rolling back into your head when reaching your climax and pressing your burning cheek against his face to feel all of him. he brushes his hand down your back comfortingly, you heaving into the crevice of his neck that glistens with sweat and feeling your walls contract around him the last couple times.

art sighs your name out, pressing his lips into your cheek and letting a smile spread across his face when you brush the dampened hair out of his forehead to get a better view of his eyes.

your body feels limp, falling back down next to him with a post-sex fatigue that follows you all the way into the next morning, where you sit at a table in the food hall, thanking art for bringing you some breakfast and trying to ignore the echoing of all the noises he made last night in your head.

“fuck i really need to work on that assignment today” you groan, taking a bite into a slice of honeydew with your head in the palm of your hand. art watches and nods, a false portrayal of an active listener when what he’s really focusing on is the way your lips curl around the slice, biting off a chunk and closing your lips around it in a way that makes him reminisce that he was right there too only a couple hours ago. “i can help.” he offers, truly from the kindness of his heart that kindly wants to spend the rest of his life looking at you.

“you wish.” you scoff, “i’m not allowed to be alone in a room with you anymore.”

art takes a swig of his water to hide the grin that spreads on his face, and when he makes eye contact with a random student from across the hall he feels like they heard that too. he wishes they could hear, and know that you, the best tennis player stanford has probably ever had, are having to physically restrain yourself from him.

“what are you smiling about?” the familiar voice of patrick calls out from a few strides away, in a pair of indigo levis and a white tee, grabbing onto arts shoulders and lowering himself down to his level to grab his chin playfully. art swats him away immediately, pushing patrick down into a chair. and tashi grazes your shoulders softly with her hand when taking a seat next to you and stealing a piece of your fruit from your bowl, “good morning.”

“morning.” you sigh out, taking a sip of your tea and hoping that it isn’t totally obvious that you slept with your friend. but tashi takes notice of the slight frizz in your hair, a dishevelled-ness that is never usually there, so it wasn’t her intention to call you out in front of the four of you when she asks, “why do you look hungover?” she even moves a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at the colour under your eyes. your brows furrow, eyes glancing to the left of you at the two boys whose expressions couldn’t be anymore different. art’s poker face is awful, he’s trying to keep his face composed but his posture slumps under the weight of patrick’s hand that spreads across over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of your breakfast to act like your lungs aren’t constricting and you aren’t going into fight or flight, “late night i guess.”

theres a moment of silence, everyone in their heads peacefully while you wish you could get into art’s and find out what he’s thinking about your pathetic lie.

“nice shirt.” patrick says.

“thanks." you reply, swiping over the embroidered ‘mark rebellat tennis academy’ with a finger and looking up at patrick, who meets your eyes with a knowing smirk that makes you feel silly for not assuming that patrick would have memorised art’s whole closet, or recognise the school they went to.

and when patrick squeezes art’s shoulder and asks whether he is “up for a game?” you suddenly become hyper aware of how much his gaze slips past art’s eyes and down onto you as they stand up from the table, eyes squinting and a stupid smile on his face. the combination is so piercing you’ve become aware that even if tashi believed your lie, and art thinks he’s got away scott free—he knows, and he’s letting you know.

his hand ruffles the hair on art’s head, arm falling over his shoulders and drawing him into himself, “we have a bunch of catching up to do, art.” he keeps art close to him as they walk away towards the tennis courts, leaning in to whisper something into his ear after the both of them briefly turned around to wave you and tashi goodbye.

tashi seems unphased by their behaviour, continuing to braid a small of piece of your hair that she unconsciously started. “you know patrick’s about to tell art all about your get together.” you chuckle and tashi scoffs, leaning back into her chair, “he wouldn’t say anything” she reassures, “also we didn’t even do anything.” she adds in quickly, stealing another piece of watermelon from your bowl and taking a bite to avoid talking about the topic like you hadn’t just done that. you smile at her, and she widens her eyes to let you know that she’ll tell you all about last night later.

“i wouldn’t be so sure.” you shake your head, stealing back the half-bitten melon from in between her fingers and finishing it off.

#art donaldson #challengers x reader #art donaldson smut #challengers x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers

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kasagia · 9 days

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Dancing with the devil II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: The Na-Baron's birthday celebration on Giedi Prime at the beginning of the season makes you realise just how much work you'll have to put into becoming Empress—and even more into avoiding Harkonnen, who's showing you way too much attention. This is something that your almost-fiance definitely shouldn't like, and something that he doesn't notice. After all, there's little you can see in the darkness of Giedi Prime. Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

"Smile. And powder yourself. You look pale, as if we were going there for a beheading and not a ball." Your mother says, adjusting the position of the grid of diamonds decorating your head. You flinch as you feel the cool metal of the gems brush against your cheek.

The damn thing was heavy, but nice. You remember perfectly how Lord Luwael's eyes lit up when he saw you wearing a similar ornament in your hair.

"In a way it is. First we will see the fight in the arena." You are sceptical of what comes next when your ship lands on Giedi Prime. You didn't like this place. It was black and white, barren, devoid of life and any moral principles. It was therefore an ideal place for gossip to arise - especially the spicy ones.

Besides, your... last encounter with Na-Baron was still fresh in your memory. Especially in dreams. On those terrible nights, you dreamed about how, in the darkness of your gardens and under the moonlight, you allowed him to do... more wicked things. Things that even husbands and wives shouldn't do behind their chambers' doors. And as much as you felt aroused after every dream like this, you were also disgusted with yourself and hated the Na-Baron even more for your little fantasies.

This helped immensely when it came to increasing motivation to win the emperor's cousin's heart, but no amount of flirting with him helped you forget the touch of a certain Harkonnen. You found it very interesting. And you hoped that after fighting in the arena, your body would adopt the same attitude towards him as your brain. He was dangerous and should have been avoided by you at all costs, and yet, in every fantasy about him, you enjoyed his burning touch more than the previous ones and wanted much more to happen between you two.

"Better for you. Half of these charpies in silks and sparkles will faint and never set foot in a ballroom. Take this opportunity and stick to the arm of the emperor's cousin." She advises you, licking her finger and twisting a lock of your hair so it rests unruly against your temple and falls onto your cheek.

"Lord Luwael wrote to me all summer. Besides, you saw for yourself that he visited our planet several times."

"It does not mean anything. He could only be bored, so he flew around the planets looking for entertainment. You have to charm him, Y/N. Drive him crazy with a... desire for you so great that he will do anything to have you—only then will he propose to you. It's still a miracle that he looked at you, since we come from a worse dynasty than him." He reminds you dryly, and you press your lips into a thin line. He doesn't wait for your answer. She leaves your room, clearly expecting you to follow her, when the ship announces that you are about to land.

You take a shaky breath, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your home-coloured dress hugged your curves perfectly, showing off the best of your figure, and your makeup highlighted your cheekbones and gave your eyes depth. All of this made you an irresistible sight. Lord Luwael would have to be blind not to appreciate your beauty. You will leave Giedi Prime with a ring on your finger or on the ship of the emperor's cousin. You did not see any other possibility, nor did you want to allow something other to happen.

You put on your soft, genuine smile and leave the room to join your mother on the exit ramp. Moments later, the ramp descends, revealing the black sun of Giedi Prime. You frown and squint as you adjust to the atmosphere on the planet. Your mother and you come down to earth. As soon as you can see beyond the patch of land in front of you, you shiver as you notice the Na-Baron waiting near your ship. You feel your anxiety and nervousness rising inside you, but you try your hardest to maintain your polite smile.

"Viscountess Y/L/N. Lady Y/L/N." He greets you, his gravelly voice sending shivers down your spine. You try to control your breathing and heartbeat, as panic is rising within you.

He looks... even more intimidating than on your home planet. That night, his mask had covered practically his entire face, but now you could see him in all his glory. And damn you, because those tempting lips he had weren't the only advantage of his appearance.

His face looked as if thousands of painters had worked on it, as if it had been lifted from ancient paintings depicting beautiful demons tempting people to damnation. And, oh, what a handsome devil he was. If you believed in an afterlife, you would wonder if he escaped from hell to lead people into temptation.

You couldn't help but wonder if he would recognise you. Does he know that it was you who went with him to the garden a few months ago? You try to read some reaction from his face, but he maintains an emotionless, composed demeanour as he looks at you and your mother.

"Na-Baron. It's a great honour to be here to celebrate your birthday. May fate always be in your favour." She greets him kindly. You shiver in relief as he thankfully doesn't pay much attention to you as his gaze comes back to your mother.

"I hope it will. The maids will show you the way to the guest wing and your chambers. All celebrations will take place tomorrow. I hope that you will soon get used to the atmospheric conditions in Giedi Prime. Until then." He nods at the maids standing behind him. Bald women come up to you and hand you tiny baskets. "Our guests find it quite useful."

You look at the things in the basket; your attention is caught by sunglasses with black lenses and a strange coat. Your mother reaches for her coat and, with practiced skill, slips it gracefully over herself, along with her glasses, as you stare unsteadily at the strange fabric.

"Lady Y/L/N. May I?" Na-Baron asks. However, he doesn't wait for your answer.

He comes closer to you, takes your cloak from the basket, and hands it to your servants. He wraps the coat around you, adjusting it to your figure and making sure to cover all of your exposed skin.

"We Harkonnens have a special pigment in our skin to prevent the carcinogenic effects of sunlight and burns from long-term exposure. You must remember to wear this coat outside to avoid any diseases, Lady Y/L/N." He says, standing behind you and tying the fabric of your coat together. He uncovers your face for a moment and puts on your sunglasses. "Nor your beautiful eyes to be damaged." He whispers, so only you can hear him.

You shiver, staring at him blankly, glad that your sunglasses allow you the convenience of hiding your eyes from him and whatever you're focused on.

Was it possible that he recognised you? Was he giving you a hint that he knew you were his white swan? NO. Impossible. He probably flirted with every single woman who came to Giedi Prime. After all, he was going to find a wife this season. He had to show his softer side and hide Giedi Prime's brutality from the naive noblewomen so that some stupid and naive one would marry him.

"We thank you very much for your kindness, Na-Baron." Your mother speaks for you, obviously angry that you haven't spoken up for yourself. You just nod, shifting your gaze to the castle behind him, trying to escape his watchful, searching gaze for a moment.

"Your welcome." He responds with a nod to your mother.

He takes your hand in his, making you tense slightly as he leans down and presses a short kiss on it. A shiver runs through you as you feel the shape of his lips through your gloves, and your mind automatically recalls the memory of that night. You smile at him politely and quickly join your mother's side, leaving Na-Baron on the ramp as another ship arrives.

"Do not act like that. Don't show that you're afraid of them. And be careful. It's very common for people here to disappear after showing disrespect to the Na-Baron. You know how, right?" She whispers furiously to you as you are led inside the palace by the maids.

"I... I know. I'm sorry." You say this thoughtfully, turning discreetly over your shoulder to watch him greet the other noble families. This time, he doesn't kiss anyone's hand or help anyone put on their protective cloak. You shake your head. He probably saw that you weren't engaged to anyone yet, and that's why you got... special treatment from him.

"Just don't act like a scared mouse. I raised you better."

Right. Your mother raised you better. That's why you shouldn't have disappeared into the garden with this mysterious stranger from the very beginning. It would save you a headache now that wasn't caused by the oppressive atmosphere on Giedi Prime. You just wanted this season to end as soon as possible. Preferably your marriage.

You walk hand in hand with Lady Y/F/N towards the arena, gossiping about what happened since last night. The Giedi Prime sun is somehow more bearable today; you don't know if it's because of the items given by Na-Baron or because the weather was exceptionally not as cruel as the day you arrived, but you feel much better. (Or maybe it was because you didn't see Na-Baron Harkonnen today.)

"I tell you, Princess Irulan was furious. I heard she destroyed her room, and the maids worked all night to get it back in order. Do you think it's possible? That the Emperor wants to marry her off to Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha?"

"Possible. It wouldn't be a stupid move. After all, Irulan cannot become emperor. She may be the firstborn, but she has no right to rule. It is logical that her father wants to marry her off to the second-best possible party, of course, when it comes to financial and political issues."

"Second best? Who's first?" You just smile at her question, watching the other noblewomen and their families walk towards the arena.

"Of course, as a woman in love, I must say that Lord Luwael."

"Has someone talked about me?"

A faint blush appears on your cheeks. You and Y/F/N turn around to see a smug Lord. You give him an equally mischievous smirk and curtsy, grabbing the arm he offered you.

"I do not think so. You must have misheard, Lord Luawel. Maybe it's the sun of Giedi Prime that bothers you so much that you lose your hearing?" You tease him as the three of you enter the arena.

"Lady Y/N, you don't have to worry about me so much, as sweet as that is. Fortunately, I don't need as much protection as you ladies do. However, I must admit that Giedi Prime is a terrible place. It does not allow you to see the natural beauty of certain things, taking away their colours."

"Maybe there's something… positive to be found here?" Y/F/N asks hesitantly as you pass a group of Harkonnens heading to the arena. The men say something in their harsh, unpleasant language that makes you shiver. You are only further insisting that there is nothing good to find on Giedi Prime.

"Positive? With all due respect, Lady Y/F/N, the Harkonnens have destroyed everything beautiful that could be left on this planet. Including their appearance and behavior." You giggle, careful not to let anyone else but the three of you hear you. But you wonder why your friend's attitude is so... sullen. She plays with her glove nervously as her eyes fall on the baron's older nephew, Rabban. "I don't know who is worse, him or his younger psychopathic brother."

"I think both of them are equal in their madness." You comment, agreeing with Lord Luwael.

Your eyes involuntarily land on Na-Baron, who exchanges a few words with one of his servants. You shiver when his eyes find yours—as if he has a special detector that makes him aware every time someone's eyes linger on him for too long.

He nods to you, looking at you carefully and examining your dress. His lips twitch into a smile when he sees you're wearing the coat he helped you adjust to your figure yesterday. You quickly turn your head towards Lord Luwael and give him one of your practiced, beautiful smiles.

"I… I'm sorry. I should join my family. Lord Luwael. Lady Y/N."

You frown, watching her walk away like a beaten puppy. You decide to question her about her strange behavior later in the evening. Now you had to focus on your lord.

"And you, lady? Are your wonderful mother and father with you?" Lord Luwael asks, placing his hand on top of yours after managing to penetrate the layers of material protecting your skin. He acts as if he wants to pull you much closer to him.

You feel the skin of your hand burn where it touches his, but unfortunately, not from... the excitement of this tiny, forbidden contact. Someone's eyes are watching you carefully, but you are too afraid to look towards Na-Baron to confirm that it is his irises that are staring hatefully at your joined hands.

"My mother had a headache, so she staid in her chamber. Unfortunately, my father couldn't show up at all. I hope you won't abandon me and leave me so lonely in this barbaric place, my lord?"

"I wouldn't dare do that. I am a gentleman. After all, someone has to catch you if you faint, my lady."

You smile sweetly at him, ignoring the sudden urge to kick him in the crotch for his words. You must maintain the innocent demeanour of a cute, awkward, and sweet noblewoman. Even though you hated it...

"Oh, you don't know how much I appreciate it, my lord." You say, wondering if you should actually pretend to faint and let him catch you. It would be very romantic if he carried you out of the arena in his arms and took you to the medic. Plus, you wouldn't have to watch... Na-Baron's entire performance.

You take your seat in the guest box. The arena shakes with the screams and applause of people who are truly eager for their Na-Baron to shed blood. Lord Luwael hands you the binoculars and gently removes your cloak as you both notice that you are protected from the sun's rays by a special black glass window.

You shiver as the Harkonnen's war drums sound and the announcer says something in their language, announcing Feyd-Rautha's fight.

A blush involuntarily blooms on your cheeks when you see that Na-Baron has decided to fight without a shirt or any armour protecting his chest. You hungrily stare at his muscular torso as he shows off his warrior body, which is decorated with paint—probably their war symbols, bringing good luck in battle.

"A real poseur and playboy. He only does it to attract attention."

"Probably. But you can't say, that it doesn't work, my lord." You say and nod towards the other ladies, who are also staring at the muscular figure of a warrior that Na-Baron proudly displays.

"Does it work for you?"

"I'm just a woman. But I prefer… slightly more hairy men." Lord Luwael chuckles at your comment, giving you a mischievous look. His attention briefly returns to Na-Baron, who lets out a belligerent cry after the murder of the first prisoner. You see him shiver slightly and his eyebrows furrow before his attention returns to you.

"So would I also gain your attention if I appeared… in a similar condition?"

"My lord, you would then have my complete undivided attention." You respond equally flirtatiously. The man sitting next to you hums in appreciation. His hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he stares at you, entranced.

"You, lady, have my undivided attention at all times and occupy my every thought." Unfortunately, you can't respond to his comment with something as sweet as Na-Baron's angry, painful scream that echoes from the arena.

Your attention returns to the fight. Na-Baron fights the last opponent, who, surprisingly, is not under the influence of drugs. You watch the fight with curiosity, even more so when you see blood pouring from Na-Baron's side.

"He had to distract himself. So far, he hasn't had any problems fighting him." You hear people commenting around you, but your eyes are focused only on Na-Baron.

You shiver as his gaze wanders towards your box, and it feels like he's looking right at you, making sure you're watching him. You put this idea out of your head. He probably didn't even know your name. He couldn't recognise you; he would definitely show it by now if he did.

You shiver as he lets out a menacing scream and charges at his opponent. His movements are quick, well-aimed and aimed as he delivers slashes, perfectly avoiding the blade of the prisoner he is fighting. You hold your breath as he knocks the blade out of your opponent's hands and stabs him in the stomach several times.

Na-Baron whispers something to the warrior and slowly lowers him to the ground as he draws his last breath. You can't take your eyes off his bloody form. His piercing gaze is still directed towards your lodge as he raises his blade. The crowd in the arena screams, people applaud, and you feel Lord Luwael next to you slowly begin to fall to the ground.

"Lord Luwael!" You scream, attracting the attention of the people around you. Several men help you, and they lift the unconscious lord. They carry him outside, and you want to follow them, but unfortunately for you, the second round of Na-Baron's fight begins, so you can't just leave. So you go back to your seat, thinking hard.

Lord Luwael apparently had another negative trait besides being a hopeless romantic—a firm believer in preserving a strictly traditional, patriarchal system. He fainted at the sight of blood and abhorred violence.

You sigh, wondering how the hell you're supposed to cope with a husband and an emperor who's afraid to draw someone's blood and pick up a sword.

Your gaze falls back on the fighting Na-Baron. If only he was less... Harkonnen... You shake your head at the idea that crossed your mind. No. You are going to become the empress. Nothing could change that plan, and certainly not one night of oblivion and pleasure with a brutal, psychopathic future Baron of a dead planet.

But that doesn't stop you from admiring the way Na-Baron's muscular chest ripples with each rapid breath or the way his muscles twitch with his movements. And unfortunately, you can't stop your thoughts from wandering and imagining him moving into a much more... intimate situation.

"Did she watch the fight?" Feyd asks his servant as the medic stitches up his wound.

He finished the fight a few minutes ago. People were probably starting to gather in the ballroom, but he had to clean up and put things in order before he appeared in public. Before he shows himself to you.

"At first, she was a little distracted by this... lord. But he fainted halfway through Na-Baron's fight, so afterwards her attention was entirely on you, my lord."

"He fainted? Weak spawn. Did she enjoy my performance?" Feyd asks, slightly irritated by the way the medic's fingers are shaking with fear as he tends to the wound.

"She was definitely impressed. I think Na-Baron's decision not to wear the breastplate helped, as did the fact that the guards made sure not to let Lord Luwael into the arena again."

"Very good, you did a great job. Keep it up. I'm going to need you to distract that pet of hers for a while. You can do it, right?"

"Of course, my lord Na-Baron."

"Women like flowers. Those outside Giedi Prime." The medic comments as he finishes stitching up his wound. Feyd looks at him for a moment, then nods at his servant.

"This is a wonderful idea. Order a vase of the rarest flower species to be placed in her chambers. I'll give you a note tonight, after the ball."

Before Feyd finishes his sentence, he already holds the medic's arm and plunges a dagger into his stomach. The man groans in shock as he stares in sheer terror at the Na-Baron.

"Because of you, I'll be late for my own ball." He growls and puts on a black shirt, ignoring the blood on his fingers as he walks out of the infirmary.

He walks through the halls of the palace, hurrying to his chambers to change. His thoughts involuntarily go to you, remembering your intoxicating scent and the softness of your skin under his lips. Damn him if he lets some lesser man have the taste of what is his.

You belonged to him from the moment he killed for you the emperor's dog that tried to bite you. If necessary, he will kill another one to make sure that no man will dare to adore you again.

But Feyd couldn't do it; as much as he dreamed of it, he preferred to gain your... feelings rather than force you to marry him. And maybe he enjoyed the thrill of chasing you, but only as long as his claims for you weren't at risk. And this little... lord was hanging around way too close to you.

He didn't know at all what you saw in this weak man. He wasn't handsome, he couldn't fight, and he couldn't defend you. Certainly not before Feyd. You needed someone strong—someone who wasn't afraid of your true nature or unleashing it. You weren't yourself hanging out with that lord. He watched the two of you closely, and countless times he saw you tighten your hand around a glass, a fan, or in a fist when that lord made a remark that irritated you, but instead of snapping back like you did with Feyd, you smiled falsely sweetly and nodded obediently.

His beautiful, brave swan, instead of hissing at the fools around her, only tried harder to attract them. And this annoyed Feyd immensely. You could be so much more than just a pretty face. You had a character that Feyd admired in you, but instead of showing it with pride, you hid it deep inside, afraid of society's opinion.

You would make a wonderful Baroness. With you by his side, he wouldn't worry about anyone seeing him as weak man. And he himself found worthy company in you during that wonderful night on your planet. If only you hadn't run away from him, hadn't believed the rumours so much, and weren't afraid of him, but rather of what he might do to you, you and Feyd would make a wonderful match.

As he approaches his chamber, he hears the ladies giggling. He decides to hide in a side corridor and wait until the gossiping women leave. But he perks up his ear excitedly when he hears what they're talking about—and that you're among them too.

"Na-Baron put on quite a show. Have you seen these muscles?" Feyd can barely keep from giggling. But he can't help but wonder how you assessed his... muscles.

He did it especially for you—to tease you a little with what you could have had that night if you hadn't run away from him like a scared little mouse. How many nights did he spend dreaming about catching you before that frail lord got you...

"Oh please. He's a cruel brute. Psychopath. Did you see how he treated that poor man? Moreover, most of his opponents were under the influence of drugs."

His hairless eyebrows furrow. He feels his rage rising; he wants to come out of his hiding place and show this royal bitch a real fight, but he knows that his uncle will kill him for laying a hand on the emperor's daughter.

"I'm not surprised at him. After all, he's the next Baron, they won't risk his life for some lame arena show."

"What do you think about it, Lady Y/N?"

Feyd licks his lips, eagerly waiting for your opinion on his fight. His heart beats fast as he wonders what you will say. Will you praise his fighting skills? Appearance? Ruthlessness and brutality? Or maybe you loathe it as much as Princess Irulan does?

He waited nervously, his heart beating fast as he waited impatiently for even one word from you.

"I… think we had a rather… interesting fight anyway. Regardless of the circumstances."

His excitement fades when you limit yourself to such a simple, diplomatic, and natural answer. He doesn't want to hear something like that from you. He wants your opinion; he wants to hear the burning heat in your voice as you express your true thoughts and emotions with great conviction, even if they go against what he wants. He wants your passion—the same passion he has experienced the few times he has had the opportunity to be around you.

"But it's not honorable! How dare they treat prisoners like this?" Irulan growls furiously at you.

"And in your country, how are they treated, my princess? They either end up in a noose or have their heads cut off. Here, maybe being under the influence of drugs isn't the best thing, but at least they have a dignified death for warriors—those who don't fight Na-Baron are fighting in the arena for their freedom and are not under the influence of any substance. I don't think this is the case in many countries. Besides, it boosts morale and entertains the people. Two birds with one stone."

Feyd feels a smirk involuntarily form on his lips. He knew that his little, wise swan would think just like he did. However, I regret that you do not praise his skills as a warrior but only focus on the usefulness of such fights. Next time, he will try harder for you. Maybe he will even give you the heart of the strongest warrior?

"Of course you'll flatter him, Lady Y/N. After all, he clearly has his eyes on you. I saw the way he looked at you the day you arrived—it was clearly love at first sight."

"Oh yes! And I saw him looking across the arena towards your box! He got so distracted by looking at you that one of the prisoners stabbed him in the side! It's so sweet, just like a real romance book."

Feyd freezes for a moment. Was it that obvious? He couldn't, right? Maybe he was accidentally looking for you in the crowd of other people, but... he couldn't be that easy to read, right?

"I would never dream of courting Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, not even in your wildest fantasies my ladies. So maybe let's focus on the real, more likely matches that could happen this season."

At your words, Feyd clenches his hands into fists. How dare you so openly reject his possible advances? It was the best match in the empire. In fact, he could be a future emperor, and he'd damn well do it for you if that was all it took to get his hand in marriage. Seething with rage, his hand involuntarily went to the blade attached to his side. He had to find someone; he had to take it out on someone; but then again, he needed to hear more. Why does the thought that he adores you bother you so much? Did he do something to you? Has he offended you in any way? Was it your reluctance and disgust at the idea of having him as a suitor just because he was a Harkonnen?

"You mean your questionable engagement to my cousin?" Princess Irulan mocks you, fueling Feyd's anger both with the way she speaks to you and with your engagement to that weak piece of flesh wasting air in your presence.

"Why questionable, my princess? I think this would be the perfect match. Lady Whistledown herself devoted several of her paragraphs to it."

Feyd rolls his eyes at you. Have you also read the nonsense of some old lady who was bored enough to comment on events in the world of noble families? And here he thought that his swan was too smart for that...

"My cousin may be stupid and be fooled by a few pretty words and eyes, but he doesn't make rash decisions. He knows what kind of marriage will be best for him. He won't marry someone from a lesser family just because some anonymous writer is having fun spreading rumors."

"Do you have someone special for Lord Luwael in your mind, maybe?"

"I think we all know very well who I mean."

Feyd smiles, and for the first time, he is not hating the princess's existence. If she actually took this weak lord from you, the fight for your hand and heart would be much more enjoyable for him; after all, he wouldn't have to worry that you would marry some other man while he was trying his best to get closer to you. It would definitely make courting you easier if Irulan tried to charm your weak little lord...

"Hmm… possible. But tell us, princess, how's your Bene Gesserit training going? Has the Reverend Mother assigned you any task yet?"

"I believe this is none of your business."

Ah, so you knew. You knew that the Bene Gesserit were planning to marry him to Irulan—something he certainly wouldn't allow. But if he lets you believe it, would you fight for him? Would you try to convince him to stop chasing Irulan? You could. After all, you would see it as a threat to your position as empress. Feyd is curious what lengths you would go to if such a situation occurred—how far would you go in trying to seduce him and leave Irulan?

Feyd is no longer eavesdropping on the rest of your conversation. You pass him, and he quickly sneaks back to his chambers, changing his clothes. His mind races as he wonders what he should do now. And he decides to give you one last chance before he puts his plan into action.

The balls at Gieid Prime are… different from those you usually witness. The ballroom is lit by a thousand candles, the room is kept in semi-darkness, and you are more than convinced that some orgy is taking place somewhere in the corners and recesses of this huge hall.

You are just finishing your dance with Lord Luwael when Feyd-Rautha enters the hall. Na-Baron is greeted with loud applause and cheers. He smiles at the crowd of people, showing a row of night-black teeth. You shiver at the sight. You just don't know if it's out of fear or desire. You realise that every time you think he can't make himself a more terrible monster, he comes in like the bane of your existence and proves you dead wrong.

Oh how you wanted to finally leave Giedi Prime.

"Unfortunately, I think we should wish him a happy birthday. Everyone does it."

You nod at his words, seeing the rest of the guests actually gather around Feyd-Rautha. You place your hand in the crook of his arm and let him guide you towards Na-Baron. The alcohol you managed to drink without your companion's attention and the man's mere presence will give you a bit of courage. Although you know, if a real fight broke out between these two men, the candidate for your husband would probably faint from fear when he saw the first blood and lose it. What a pity he had such an annoying condition...

"Na-Baron. Happy birthday." Your companion says as you reach Feyda-Rautha. His blue, ocean-glacial eyes stare at the two of you, ignoring you for a moment to send an appraising glance towards the man whose arm you're holding. You see a strange tension building in the room between these two...

"Thank you very much, lord…"

"Luwael." He finishes for him, angry that he is not properly recognised and acknowledged by the Na-Baron.

"Ah yes. It slipped out of my mind. Wouldn't you be offended if I took the liberty of asking your lovely partner to dance? It's my birthday, after all." Na-Baron's attention is completely on you, and you wish he and Lord Luwael had spent more time on this little alpha male fight. You open your mouth, ready with an excuse to deny him the dance, but the man next to you speaks first.

"Of course. Enjoy yourself." Na-Baron gives him a smug smirk that only widens when Lord Luwael flinches at Feyd's black teeth.

You suppress a grimace and give your hand to the Harkonnen. He takes your hand with incredible gentleness and leads you to the centre of the room, right onto the dance floor. Before the dancing starts, he has the courage to take off your gloves. You give him a confused look, your heart beating faster, as he leans in to press a kiss on your hand. You shiver as the skin of your hand registers the now familiar shape of his plump lips.

He places his hand on your waist and connects your hand with his, leading you to the rhythm of a rather calm song.

"Such fire… and yet your anger does not reach Lord Luwael. What did he do to deserve this special treatment, my lady? Maybe you're worried about him after he fainted in the arena like some weak, little boy?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." You say, turning your gaze away from him, wanting to spend the rest of the dance in silence. You keep your eyes peeled for Lord Luwael, but unfortunately, you can't find him anywhere. As if he had evaporated.

"Is it so, little swan?" A cold chill runs through you as you use the nickname for you that he used that night. You feel your world freeze for a moment. He continues to lead you in the rhythm of the dance, allowing himself to pull you a little closer to inhale the scent of your perfume, but you don't notice, terrified of what he told you he knew.

"I... no." You blurt out, trying to control your emotions, and put on the mask of indifference on your face again.

"Well... I guess you know. Your heart beats so fast, almost as fast as that night when I tasted your wonderful nectar straight from the source. You know there's nothing as sweet as your juices?"

"How dare you speak to me like that?!" You growl furiously, unconsciously digging your nails into his palm.

"So she can still hiss! And she even has claws. I remember how sweetly you scratched my neck with them before you ran away like a scared little bird."

"Shut up." You growl, feeling like you're starting to lose control of this whole conversation. And not just conversation. You noticed that you had somehow found yourself outside the ballroom. The music from there reaches you in the form of a gentle hum as it presses you against the wall of one of the empty corridors. You swallow, realising what a sh*t situation you are in.

"Or what? Watch your tone, little swan. It's my birthday. You should be nicer to me. I didn't actually hear you wish me a happy birthday; your little puppet did it for you."

"Unlike some, he is a real gentleman, not a puppet or monster."

"Ah, but we know very well that you don't want a gentleman. A gentleman wouldn't do to you the things I did to you, and we both know how deliciously you moaned under my touch and how you shuddered as my tongue tasted you. Do you think your weak lord can do to you the things I showed you in the darkness of your house planet? That he can satisfy your desire? That he can free you from your shackles of social conventions as I can free you? You need someone bigger than the lesser man. I've already told you that. You won't settle for a man like that."

"You do not know anything about me. One night—not even the whole night—spent under my skirts won't suddenly make you know my true desires. You have changed, Feyd-Rautha. You're not the same boy from the Lankiveil I used to know." He hums thoughtfully at your worlds, watching you carefully and curiously.

"Hmm… maybe you're right, little swan. I think I need to do more to convince you that I am right."

You sigh as his lips press against yours in a frenzied, passionate kiss. You punch his chest, trying to push him away, but he presses hard against you, pinning you against the wall. You feel the toned muscles of his body as he grinds against you, demanding full access to your mouth.

You bite his lip until it bleeds, but that only turns him on more. His strong, large hand cups your breast, squeezing it tightly. You let out a surprised moan, and his tongue somehow finds a way to slip into your open mouth.

The material of your dress tears under his strength; his hands pull your breasts out of your dress and caress them as if his life depended on it. His fingers graze over your sensitive nipples, and you can only moan into his mouth as he sends a warmth straight to your core that reminds you desperately of how his tongue was working so well to release you that you had denied yourself.

You come to the shameful conclusion that maybe you could have let him bring you to orgasm before you ran away from him.

His lips finally leave yours, but you don't enjoy this freedom for long. They move to your neck, licking and nibbling madly, as if someone were about to tear him away from you. And the worst thing about it all is that you don't really know if that's what you want.

You scream as his black teeth dig into your skin, leaving a mark in the crook of your neck. You hear the click of enamel against metal as he accidentally catches your necklace, but he doesn't move away; he just sinks his teeth into it, as if trying to split a diamond in half.

He pulls away from you; you see the blood on his plump lips—your blood—and it only makes you more aroused. His hand slips under your skirts and reaches to your core, caressing you teasingly. You gasp, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

"Such a good little whore when she gets fingers and a few hickeys on her neck. Does your lord know what a shrew you are until someone kisses the venom from your lips? Does he know what fire burns inside you? Does he know what a wonderful feast you have between your legs for a thirsty man? Does he know you as well as I do? Has he seen how beautiful you look in the whirlwind of passion?"

His every question is punctuated by the rhythm of the thrusting of his fingers. You moan softly, holding back tears of pleasure, as he slowly brings you to the edge. You dig your nails into his shoulders, holding onto him with all your strength as he plays with your clit and sucks hickeys on your breasts.

"So sweet… so soft… so wet. And it's for me. Just for me. For Harkonnen. Say it. Tell me who fucks that little pussy so well with his fingers. Tell me who's driving you crazy. Tell me whose attention you really want, you wanton little bitch, and maybe I'll let you cum, despite the way you treated me… and on my own birthday…"

"I... you... you..." You gasp in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers.

"Nah. Not like that. My name, beautiful little swan. Scream my name. Exactly the way you should have done that night in the garden." He whispers into your ear, biting the lobe. You moan as his fingers go deeper inside you, and his other hand caresses your breast, playing with your nipple.

"I... ah... Feyd.... Feyd, please..." You cry for him as your hips grind against his hand, seeking the sweet release that only he can give you.

"Yes…just like that…cum for me. Give me my birthday present and shout my name." You can only nod dumbly as you feel him take you over the edge. You bite down hard on his neck, refraining from making any noise as you tighten around his fingers, finally coming.

You gasp, feeling the metallic taste of his black blood on your tongue.

You move away from him as if burned. Your heart beats insanely fast as you stare at him, trying to process what happened. He pulls his finger out of you with a squelch, and you blush furiously. He puts his fingers in his mouth, sucking them. He moans at the taste of you, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Perfect birthday gift. Although I believe I can get more." Just as he moves to kneel between your legs, you hear the voices of the guards patrolling the halls. You push him away from you in panic and run forward, trying to improve your appearance a little.

This time, he's not after you. He didn't make any attempt to chase you. He allows you to traverse the halls of Giedi Prime without the feeling of his breath on your back, but you are very aware that you have miserably lost today's battle against him. He did exactly what he wanted with you and would have gone much further (and unfortunately, you would have let him) if you hadn't sobered up with the possibility of getting caught.

You told yourself that this was what you needed to get over him. After all, forbidden fruit always tasted the best, and once you experienced the Na-Baron's... undoubted skills, you could move on and marry a man who was the absolute opposite of him, a man with whom you didn't have to worry so much about the future, as with Feyd-Rautha.

Yes, this was what you needed—one last affair before the wedding—to make sure you're doing it right. Because what would await you as Na-Baron's wife, or, God forbid, concubine? Nothing good. The Harkonnens were the harbinger of misfortune, suffering, pain, aggression, and, apparently, good sex.

Whatever you and Na-Baron were doing, it had to end now.

"I'm supposed to be his wife?! This barbarian?! You can't do this to me, father! Feyd-Rautha will destroy the empire and plunge us into the blood of war and senseless brutality. He's a psychopath; can't you see it? Surely there must be another way to keep the throne!" Irulan's screams echo throughout the guest wing. Your eyes widen in surprise, the unpleasant pang in your chest only adding to your daze.

So the rumours were true. The emperor wants to give Irulan to Feyd. You don't like this idea very much. If the Harkonnens married into the Corrino family, your right to the throne of Emperor, or rather the right of Lord Luwael, would be in jeopardy. No one stood a chance against them.

You snap out of your daze when you see the door handle to Irulan's chambers begin to move. You quickly run to your room and close the door quietly behind you as you wonder what the hell just happened in these few hours.

You return to your chambers blushing and with a rapidly beating heart. You can still feel Na-Baron's lips vividly on your neck, and you're sure you'll have to cover it tomorrow so no one will see the hickeys that bastard gave you.

How stupid you were again! How could you let him get so close to you again and corner you when you were alone in his territory?! And what's worse, he knew that it was you who went with him to the garden that night; he knew and he wanted more from you...

You shudder as wicked thoughts enter your mind, all because of Na-Baron's tantalisingly absurd whispers. How could you enjoy his attack on you? How could you moan so loudly in a deserted corridor? How could you shout his name and attract the attention of the guards?

You were damn lucky that no one caught you, that Lord Luwael disappeared somewhere, and that he didn't see you giving yourself to this... this monster like a mindless whore. It had to be the alcohol. They must have put something in your drink; you couldn't just... enjoy the touch of a Harkonnen, a Harkonnen who just a few hours ago had slaughtered you in the arena before your eyes and was enjoying it like a little child enjoys a candy... A Harkonnen whose body was ethereal beautifully...

You are snapped out of your thoughts when your mother enters your room in a state of… extreme daze.

"Mother? Have something happened?" You ask her, worried that your little (another) tryst with the Na-Baron might have turned out to be not such a secret at all.

"Lord Luwael just asked for my consent to propose to you. You did very well, Y/N. You will be an empress."

You swallow nervously and smile, nodding your head. Your mother hugs you, and you feel millions of thoughts racing through your head. You will become empress, but only if Irulan and Feyd-Rautha don't marry, and there was only one way to make sure that would happen.

You had to play a game with the devil himself and seduce and deceive him until the day it would be too late for his marriage to Irulan and you and Lord Luwael would take the emperor's throne. But how the hell were you supposed to do that without getting burned?

Taglist: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran

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michwritesstuff · 5 months

Text

Enchanting to Meet You (Bridgerton: Benedict Bridgerton)

pairing: female reader (she/her) x Benedict Bridgerton

summary: In your debut social season in London, you can’t help but be absolutely enchanted by a certain gentleman. You wouldn’t be lucky enough to find a true love match after one ball…right?

notes/warnings: no warnings, just all fluff! does this song not scream dancing with benedict for the first time! stolen glances and witty remarks! like hello?

word count: 1.3k

The carriage was moving impossibly slow.

Trees passing by at a snail’s pace as you watched the light of your aunt’s estate grow closer in the distance.

The desire to run to your bedroom and bathe in the excitement of the night intensifying as each moment passed.

“A lovely opening ball, was it not y/n?”

You snapped your head from leaning on the window to where your mother and aunt sat across from you.

“Yes, quite lovely indeed,” you remarked.

You had grown up coming to your aunt’s estate in the summers.

As a child, you remembered begging your mother to take you to London for the social season as your older sisters were being presented to society.

You wondered if your sisters ever had a night as magical as you did tonight.

And it was all because of him.

Benedict Bridgerton.

You liked the name Benedict; you had never met another one before.

The blood rushed to your cheeks, so scarlet, at the memory of dancing the night away with him.

“Oh y/n, you are looking quite ill. You have had such a busy night; it would do you well to get a good night’s sleep and think on the many gentlemen who will call on you tomorrow.”

You could not help but lay awake that night, the moonlight shining through the curtains, as you thought about the entire night. Replaying it in its entirety, from start to finish.

The conversation was effortless, no lulls or awkward pauses you experienced with others.

What would you do if he had not called upon you the next day?

Would you be forced to entertain the other prospects in hope of waiting and biding time for his affection.

Was there someone else in the picture?

Why had you not thought to ask his intentions?

Was the chemistry enough to guide you through this season?

Your endless thoughts were torture.

Finally dozing off, the moonlight soon disappeared as the darkness of the night sky was replaced by the bright and glistening rays of the sun.

A subtle knock came from the other side of the door, your lady maid calling out.

“Miss Y/N, we must start getting you ready.”

With one final powdering of your nose, you made your way towards the parlor room.

As you walked in you spotted Benedict sitting on the settee near the large portrait of your family.

He stood up immediately once he noticed your presence.

As your eyes met the memories of the night before came flooding back.

******

You stood with your mother and aunt at the edge of the dance floor, running your hands down your dress, doing your best to smooth out the ruffles from where you sat.

“Miss y/l/n, what a pleasure to have you join us this season.”

“Thank you, Lady Danbury,” you smiled politely.

“Let us hope that she is as lucky as her sisters in finding a great companion,” your mother said.

You nodded your head as you took in the scene around you.

Girls and their mamas circling like vultures, while still maintaining the perfect amount of poise to be considered elegant and respectful.

It was much more overwhelming than you were anticipating.

The magic of what you imagined as a little girl was slowly fading the more you felt the pressure of finding a husband by the end of the season.

If forcing laughter and faking smiles is what it took to get through the night, then so be it.

You had evaded a few gentlemen by writing down the name of poets on your dance card, smiling shyly as you quickly waved the ‘full’ dance card as a polite dismissal.

It was a pity really, you loved to dance.

The small talk and inquiring about your pianoforte on the other hand was quite detestable.

You had just gotten done pity laughing at Lord Hardy’s ‘humble’ comment about his many properties, when above his shoulder your eyes met a couple of cool blue ones across the room.

Your insincerity dropped, curiosity taking over as you excused yourself from Lord Hardy.

The man had done the same with whatever company had previously occupied him, gently patting the man in front of him as he maneuvered his way towards you.

As he approached you bowed your head slightly.

“Miss--?”

“Y/N”

“Miss Y/N, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I suppose we have not. I have just come to London for the season.”

“Ah, the marriage mart? Believer of love, are we?”

“Are you not?” you challenged back.

“In an artists’ sense, yes. Not in the way that I must bow, and you curtsy while we skate around each for months to appease our families What is it truly to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration? To delight in her beauty, so much so that all your defenses crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her.”

You were shocked by his seemingly earnest words. Perhaps the shallow nature of society was not present in everyone.

“Well, we seem to have that in common Mr.—”

“Bridgerton, but you may call me Benedict.”

“Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, the artist or a poet?” you teased.

“This doesn’t really seem like the company you would choose to surround yourself with,” you remarked.

“Quite true Miss Y/N. I fear I am rather trapped among the duties of my family to attend tonight’s ball. You see, my sister Eloise is in her debut season as well.”

You followed his gaze to where a young lady stood next to an older woman. From afar their relationship was quite clear, a mama instructing her daughter on all the dos and don’ts of the night.

“Might you join me in a dance Miss Y/N?”

You looked down to your dance card, the spots filled with fake names.

Benedict grabbed your wrist, bringing the cards towards him for a closer examination.

He laughed as he looked at the names written, scratching out the last two to write his own.

“I do hope Lord Keats and Lord Wordsworth don’t mind me taking their spots.”

“They’ll live, I hear they have greater things to attend to.”

“Greater than you miss? I have high doubts.”

You took Benedict’s hand as the music began to play.

Your hand felt so right in his, as natural as breathing.

You could not help the fluttering in your heart as he whisked you across the dance floor.

This moment, this is the moment you imagined as a young girl.

The playful conversation, perfectly countering his quick remarks. Is this what it was like to meet someone at your level?

Your insincerity and vacancy from earlier replaced by a fulfilling excitement.

“It seems highly improper to have danced continuously with you Benedict.”

“I suppose it is a bit suggestive, do you regret it?” he asked seriously.

You thought for a long second before you looked at him properly.

“No, I do not regret it. Your company is quite refreshing and enjoyable.”

“Coming from someone with your elegance, I take that as the highest compliment.”

You had spent the rest of the evening walking around with your mother and aunt, engaging in superficial conversations, your eyes constantly peeled for a certain Bridgerton.

Your stolen glances and playful smirks across the ballroom went seemingly unnoticed by most.

However, after a brief encounter with Benedict at the drinks table, you felt the wandering eyes of a young lady wearing a lovely yellow dress.

You smiled sweetly at her before returning to your mother’s side.

******

“Miss Y/N, I hope it is not a surprise for me to have called on you so early this morning?”

“On the contrary, I would have been quite disappointed if you had not.”

“Would you care to join me for a promenade?”

“I would be delighted Mr. Bridgerton.”

check out the rest of my work ⤑ here!

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foxy-eva · 7 months

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Keeping You Warm

Summary: Spencer and his girlfriend find the best way to warm up after enjoying the first snow in the backyard of their house

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff, Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) heavy kissing, teasing, nipple play, thigh grinding, oral (male receiving), unprotected penetrative sex

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

A couple of weeks ago after a long day of working on your computer at home, Spencer noticed you shivering slightly. He took your cold fingers in his hands and kissed each one of them to share his warmth with you. It took him thirty minutes to completely warm you up again with his body pressed against yours on the couch.

After that he knew that it was finally time to turn up the heat in the house the two of you had moved in together last summer. You wanted to delay that for as long as possible, to keep the heating period short and do your fair share of saving the environment. But after the temperature dropped significantly and you started to get uncomfortable in your own home, you stopped protesting his decision.

You still managed to convince him to keep the radiator in your bedroom turned off, making a very good point explaining to him how you would always prefer the heat his body provided anyway.

That’s why Spencer knew that no matter how cold this winter would get, it was his job to keep you warm at night. When his body noticed the absence of your skin against his this morning, he didn’t even have to fully wake up to reach out his hand searching for you. All of his drowsiness suddenly left him when he didn’t find you on your side of the bed.

It wasn’t like you to wake up before him on a Sunday which is why he hurried out of bed to run downstairs looking for you, his concern growing when you didn’t respond to him calling your name. His heart-rate only got down to a tolerable frequency when he spotted you through the glass door that connected your living room to the backyard. A bright smile spread across his face when he realized what you were doing.

It had been snowing all night and every surface outside was covered in a thick white layer. You wore your warmest coat and half of your face was covered by a knitted scarf. Spencer found you standing in the backyard of the place you called home, building a ridiculously large snowman to surprise him. You only caught him staring at you when you heard him opening the door.

“What are you doing? It’s not even 8am!“ he asked, already knowing the answer.

You had just lifted the third and last ball of snow on top of two larger ones.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter when you snickered, “I wanted him to look like you!”

“I am pretty sure that I am not that curvy,“ he stated before going back inside and closing the door behind him.

You stared at the glass door for a second, watching his outlines until he was out of sight. You knew Spencer wasn’t a fan of outside activities before having his morning coffee but you were still disappointed that he apparently didn’t like your surprise. You still tried to finish what you started as you gave the frozen sculpture a few touch-ups, evening out the surface with your hands.

After a moment you heard the door opening again, followed by the cracking sound of footsteps on the powdery snow. Spencer had put on shoes and a coat to join you and examine your work. When he lifted his hand, you noticed him holding his favorite purple scarf.

He wrapped it around the lower half of the snowman’s head, chuckling, “Now there is at least some resemblance to me.“

He pulled you into his arms, kissed your forehead and thanked you for the surprise. When you fully leaned against him, he started to stumble backwards, unable to find balance on the uneven surface of fresh snow. You broke out in laughter when the both of you clumsily fell over, the soft powder underneath your boyfriend’s backside cushioning the impact of your fall.

Spencer joined you in your laughter before asking if you were okay. His arms were still wrapped around you as you lay on top of him in the snow. Leaning towards his face, you gently kissed his lips. One of his hands wandered from your back to your cheek, keeping you in place as he deepened your connection. He seemed to relish the sensation of having you this close, his eagerness making you smile into the kiss.

It seemed like denying him your usual Sunday morning cuddles in bed made him desperate for your touch. When your tongue brushed over his, a content hum escaped his throat and you couldn’t hold back a desperate sigh. Your cheeks felt as if they were glowing, not from the cold winter air but from the heat that was spreading through your body.

Shifting your legs so you were straddling him, your hips started to timidly grind against Spencer’s body. When his hands began to wander over your back in familiar patterns, you got annoyed about all the layers you were wearing. You wanted to be able to feel so much more of him, so you tossed your scarf to the side and reached between your bodies to unbutton your coat. Spencer immediately grabbed your hands to stop you.

“What are you doing?“, he whispered as you felt his hot breath on your face.

“I need to feel you, Spencer“, you whined, trying to get rid of the grip of his hands to continue your plan.

“I will not let you get undressed in this weather. Let’s go inside, I am freezing.“

He tried to sit up with you still on top of him. You protested and pushed him back onto the ground, leaving kisses along his cheek and his jawline until you found that one spot on his neck that always made him give into your advances. Caressing his sensitive skin with your mouth and tongue, you felt the vibrations of his throat against your lips when a moan finally left him.

Moving closer to his ear you whispered, “Don’t you think that making love in the snow sounds really romantic?“

Your voice was hoarse, if from being aroused or staying in the cold for too long Spencer couldn’t tell. He moved his hands to your cheeks, shifting underneath you so you could look in each other’s eyes.

“Yes it does sound romantic but frostbites do not and strenuous physical activities in low temperatures are actually a risk factor for getting those“, he told you.

“I made it through countless freezing cold winters, I am immune to that“, you pointed out.

“There is no such thing as being immune to getting frostbites. Besides, even if you were, I am not and I am sure you don’t want to put me at risk?“

He tried to sit up again and this time you let him, moving with him as you got up from the ground.

“My Nevada Desert Boy. Not being able to stand a chance against me when it comes to winter activities only makes you so much more endearing to me“, you cooed right before pressing a chaste kiss on his mouth, feeling him smile against your lips at the new nickname you just gave him.

WIth his fingers intertwined with yours you led him into the house, kicking off your shoes as you stepped over the threshold. Closing the door behind you, Spencer didn’t hesitate to help you shed the layers of clothing you wore. He couldn’t endure another minute of not being able to feel your skin against his. After spending the morning in the snow, you were also longing for the heat Spencer’s body usually provided.

Not daring to separate your lips from his, you impatiently tugged on his clothes until the two of you were covered in nothing but your underwear. Still standing in the middle of your living room, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against him. He appreciated the gesture, deepening the kiss while his hands found their home on your back.

His fingertips wandered over the sensitive skin along your spine, making you shiver in anticipation for more. A low moan escaped your throat, having Spencer immediately push his hips firmly against your lower belly. You could feel the outline of his hardening length through the fabric of his underwear, making you whimper against his lips some more.

It took all of your willpower not to fall down to your knees to take him into your mouth and not to stop until you tasted his release on your tongue. However, you knew that your boyfriend disliked any feeling of hurriedness when it came to being intimate, so you decided to let him take the lead.

Something you also knew about Spencer was that the more you allowed him to notice how desperate you were, the more pleasure he got from teasing you. But you never were as patient as him in these kinds of moments, squeezing your own thighs together to have at least the slightest amount of pressure where you were longing for his touch the most. You felt the lacy material of your panties getting damp as your own arousal started to gather at your entrance.

Spencer walked the both of you over to the couch where he gently pushed you down, never letting his mouth disconnect from yours. At this point you would have done anything for him, your body and mind compliant and obedient to his actions. He reached around your body to unclasp your bra and rid you of the fabric.

That was when he stopped kissing you for the first time since entering the house. He was still standing beside the couch, leaning over you as his eyes roamed over your body. The amount of wonder he had in his look when you were bare in front of him never failed to amaze you, it was as if he hadn’t known every inch of your body for years now. You were studying his face, noticing a smirk when he glanced over your chest.

“Are you still cold?“, he purred, hinting at the hardened peaks of your breasts.

“Only one way to find out“, you whispered, wrapping your arms around his body to pull him down on top of you.

Your skin was flushed and hot when Spencer positioned himself above you, making sure not to fully put his weight down on you. He didn’t mind that you weren’t actually cold, he wanted to share his heat with you anyway. Your hands found their way into his unruly curls, still damp from your activities in the snow earlier.

He started to kiss your lips again before moving to your cheek until he put his hand on your jaw to tilt your head to the side. He took your earlobe between his teeth, caressing the soft skin with his tongue. You couldn’t hide how much he affected you, moaning out his name while tugging on his hair timidly. He kissed your neck, sucking on your skin, biting it and leaving marks on his path down your body.

You felt his hot breath on you, noticing how it got heavier with every second passing, a telltale sign that it wouldn’t be long now until he would finally grant you the touches you so desperately anticipated. Taking one of your breasts in his hand, Spencer kneaded it softly while brushing his thumb over your hardened peak. The other one he took in his mouth, sucking and biting gently on it to elicit the sweet sounds of your undoing.

Spencer started to feel intoxicated by your reactions, eager to guide you into the sensation of pure bliss. He continued caressing you, switching sides every now and then to give both of your breasts the same amount of attention. Those sensations sent waves of pleasure directly into your core and you couldn’t help but start to squirm underneath him.

Pushing your hips against his body in hopes of finding some kind of friction, you could feel how hard he was. The thought of soon feeling him deep inside made you moan. Spencer began to wonder if he could manage to push you over the edge like that but when your hand in his hair started pulling with more force every second passing, he finally pitied you enough to give you some sort of relief.

He shifted his position, pushing one of his legs between yours to press his thigh against your waiting heat. You eagerly accepted his offer, rolling your hips and grinding against him to create the much needed friction. Spencer instantly noticed that the crotch of your panties was already soaked with your arousal. As you moved against his thigh, he could feel you leaving a wet spot on his skin.

He focussed his attention back to your chest to continue what he was doing. Looking up at you, he noticed how you closed your eyes and pushed your head back into cushions. Your lips were parted to let out the beautiful sounds of your pleasure. When you quickened the pace of your hips rocking against his thigh, Spencer knew that you were close to your breaking point.

He pushed his leg harder against you until you finally fell over the edge. The tension in your stomach was released as you came undone underneath him. When your body started to relax again, you felt Spencer leaving tender kissing on your breasts before he found his way back to your face to place his lips against yours. You reciprocated the kiss hesitantly as you were still trying to catch your breath after what just happened.

He pulled back to lock eyes with you and grant you some air, whispering, “You okay?“

Instead of answering him, you put your hands on his shoulders, moving him away from you and following with your own body until both of you were in a sitting position. You slid off the couch onto the floor, kneeling in front of Spencer’s legs and noticing the glistening spot on his thigh where you had spread your essence while grinding against him.

Looking up at him, a smile spread across your face as you appreciated every inch of him in sight. His strong legs, the little belly he had recently gotten, the trail of hair underneath his navel, his heaving chest and that beautiful face, staring down at you with adoration.

“See anything you like?“, he teased.

“Yes, but not everything I need to see“, you answered while glancing over his underwear.

His erection was straining almost painfully against the confinement of the fabric. You hooked your fingers under the waistband, pulling the material down his legs to finally free him. Still kneeling on the floor, you positioned yourself between his legs, taking his hardness into your hand. You gave him a few strokes, your thumb gliding over his already leaking tip.

Feeling your hot breath against his delicate skin made Spencer whimper in anticipation. You smiled and kissed the tip before licking along the underside of his hardness. Spencer leaned back into the couch, moaning at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his shaft. When you closed your mouth around him, sinking down a few inches, he dared to look at you.

He almost felt bad about how much he liked the sight of you down on your knees with his cock in your mouth, staring up at him doe-eyed. That enjoyment didn’t come from a desire to degrade you, no, it was quite the opposite. He glorified you with every fiber of his being, still struggling to believe that someone like you would want him.

You moved your head up and down his length slowly, feeling your boyfriend tense beneath you. Before he could get too close to the edge, you stopped your actions, having Spencer whine in protest.

You got up from the floor, pulled down your panties and moved back onto the couch to straddle his lap. You put one hand on his shoulder and the other between your bodies to line his length up against your entrance. Locking eyes with him, you were looking for a sign of approval. When he smiled at you and kissed you, you finally sank down on him slowly.

While you were still relishing the sensation of him stretching your walls, Spencer put his hands on your hips and began to help you move. Tentatively you rolled your hips until your body was used to the sensation of being filled out. With practiced movements you let him glide over the most sensitive part inside you until you felt the tension building up again. Spencer began to move with you, pushing up into you while his fingertips were buried into the soft flesh of your hips.

When you leaned back slightly to change the angle, one of his hands moved between your bodies to press his thumb against the bud of your core. With tight circles he helped you reach your climax, having you pant against his face as the sweetest moan fell from your lips. When he felt your walls clench around him, Spencer couldn’t hold back any longer. He found his own release as he halted his motions at your deepest point and shared his warmth with you.

You fell limp against his chest and buried your face in the crook of his neck. Spencer wrapped his arms around you to hold you tightly and kiss your forehead. You were still trying to even out your breath when Spencer started to let his fingertips wander over your back.

When he turned his head in the direction of your backyard, he noticed that it had started snowing again. Looking at the snowman you had built earlier made his heart swell. That frozen sculpture, although not resembling him at all, was a reminder of your love for him.

“Hey I was thinking… maybe we should get back outside and build that snowman a girlfriend“, Spencer suggested.

The thought made you smile but you weren’t eager to leave the comfort of the heat your boyfriend’s body provided.

He noticed your hesitancy and added, “I promise to warm you up again if you get cold.“

You agreed to his proposal then, already knowing that you certainly would be freezing when you were done, even if it was just pretend.

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @castiels-majestic-wings @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @purpledsky @super-nerd22

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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mactiir · 9 months

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ranking baldur's gate characters by how i think they smell

#9) Minthara. Because she’s a corpse, next question.

#8) Lae'zel. You know this woman has never bathed. Washing is for the weak, is'tik. She says this is because needs her musk to attract mates but mostly it's cuz Gith education doesn't exactly make time for personal hygiene. Once it got so bad that Tav dragged the whole party through a chest-deep stream and stood there for 20 minutes to take a "breather" while Laezel stared daggers at them the whole time.

#7) Karlach. I want Karlach to smell nice so badly, and Karlach probably wants Karlach to smell nice too, but you know this woman smells like brimstone and engine exhaust and sweat. On good days she smells like the fine char you get on burgers on a summer day. On bad days she smells like a truck stop at peak hours, and the truck stop is also on fire. She's not happy about this either.

#6) Gale. Gale tries to keep himself groomed, he really does. But he looks like he is perpetually just a tiny bit smelly. Like he hyperfocused on a book slightly too hard for slightly too long and as a result he forgot to shower for a week. He acts like he bedded Mystra because of his towering intellect but really it's cuz gods don't have human senses of smell. His nightshirt looks velvet, too, and you KNOW it can't be easy to get smells out of that shit without a washer. He is one of those poor guys who is cursed to always stink a little bit no matter how much he showers. When Tav confronts him about this he decides, on the spot, that deodorant is for anti-intellectuals, actually, which he wouldn't have expected Tav to know but it's okay, we can't all be enlightened.

#5) Minsc. He doesn't reek exactly, but you know he's 100% man musk, hamster bedding, and butt-kicking

Tied for #5) Jaheira. You know 100 years of living in forests and adventuring with Minsc has endowed her with exactly the same level of manly perfume as Minsc (except with notes of cedarwood).

#4) Wyll. He used to be the best-smelling until Mizora pulled him through every level of hell in rapid succession, and now he smells a little bit like brimstone all the time. He sometimes rubs fragrant herbs on his horns to counteract it, which doesn't get rid of the smell, really, but it gives his smell an interesting dimension. Otherwise, he has enough experience with adventuring, and is well-bred enough, that him and his things are usually well-groomed (and also because his dad was a freak about it).

#3) Shadowheart. This woman puts on tragic makeup every morning and changes her hair to reflect her religion. Appearances are EVERYTHING (especially when it comes to keeping secrets). Shadowheart smells exactly like she thinks she needs to smell to be religiously pleasing to her goddess and/or coMplEtE thE mIsSioN. She does get anxious sweats though, which are very distinctive if it's been a long day of adventuring. She never admits this, though. Ever.

#2) Astarion. Okay, so, sometimes, he smells just the teensiest, tiniest bit like dried blood. But mostly, he smells like baby powder and potpourri. It is a waste of good fashion sense and his pretty face to go about stinking like a beggar. (He does go through a brief 'Cazador can't tell ME what to do' phase where he stops bathing for a day, but he grosses himself out so much that he resumes his normal routime before anyone notices.)

#1) Halsin. You'd expect him to stink, with his whole smelly-hippy free-love vibe, but nah. The man smells heavenly. He spends all his time frolicking through fragrant herbs and lounging in scented hot springs with whomever strikes his fancy. He probably has a whole ass medicine cabinet full of stuff he uses to freshen up. His breath probably smells like mint and his hair like cedar. He probably puts coconut oil or smth in his hair. He knows how to smell good as literally any animal in the realms. Wanna know why? Dogs have a sense of smell several thousand times better than people. I bet bears do, too. You do Not Fuck As A Bear without understanding not only how to WASH your ass, but also perfume it. Halsin also knows: thou shalt not give yeast infections. And if you got bear dick, that means HYGIENE. It's a point of pride for him, actually.

BONUS: WITHERS. Withers smells like nothing. Like, freakishly, unsettlingly like nothing. Like, you expect him to smell like dust or pitch or smth. Nope. He's a black hole of smell. You come near him and if you ask, he resets your entire hygiene routine for 100 gold and leaves you smelling like roses.

#Baldurs gate 3 #Bg3 #Baldurs gate #Lae'zel #Karlach #Shadowheart #Halsin #Wyll #Gale #Astarion #bg3 spoilers #bg3 memes #bg3 minsc #jaheira

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graevelabyss · 13 days

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You know what genuinely kept me up until 1am last night about FH: Junior Year, the Bad Kids could have been facing such worse enemies if Porter actually thought about who would be best in Kipperlily’s place.

My mind goes directly to Ragh or Hargis, both very powerful kids who were in pretty bad situations. Ragh was wrapped up with the Harvest Men and in denial about his sexuality. Wait I forgot, Porter did try and mess with Ragh with his silly "Barbarian healing", would Porter have tried some shit if the Bad Kids hadn't taken Ragh on Summer break with them? I’m thankful every day the Bad Kids took him in. Hargis in turn also could have dodged a bullet by meeting the Bad Kids. Like a shy theatre nerd that struggles socially with his passion, who is a Goliath fighter no less is a recipe for (not necessarily hate-filled) but a rage-filled disaster. That beige aura really did good for him I think.

AND WHAT ABOUT YELL. Danielle would have been in so much trouble if she didn’t find the Maidens. A socially ostracised girl that can’t find a permanent adventuring party because of her beliefs and actions gets tricked into using her druidic powers to spread the rage-star powder all across Elmville. I am shaking Porter’s shoulders violently rn, BRO. A DRUID. YOU SKIPPED ON A DRUID FOR YOUR EVIL PLAN OML.

Zayn also could have been bad news if Porter got his shit together faster for a similar reason. He. Is. A. Necromancer. A necromancer. And probably one of the most vulnerable people from season 1, just one discussion with Daybreak and it’s a sealed deal but noooo. Please don’t get me wrong, I don’t want any of the students to be brainwashed or even be in the position to willingly take the rage, but man, Porter is just ridiculous.

Holy shit. And what about Zelda. A character so powerful I think that’s one of the reason Brennan played her in The Seven. Her rage is literally divine, Porter could have done something with that, made his own brand of divine rage and offered it to her and others. She was even taking personal lessons from him because her rage was too destructive for normal class.

When the hell did he come up with this plan.

I mean I know it would have been a while ago because of the whole thing with Kalina but I think my point still stands when I say, Porter, my guy, disrespectfully, you could have done so much better than Kipperlily Copperkettle.

#fantasy high junior year #fantasy high #fhjy #ragh barkrock #hargis #danielle barkstock #zayn darkshadow #zelda donovan #porter cliffbreaker #dimension 20 #d20 #i will never be over this show and its wonderful characters #i will always be over porter's bullshit #no muscles will ever be big enough to hide the fact the mans brain is as smooth as silk and the size of a grape

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vivwritesfics · 3 months

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This'll Be The Day That I Die

Chapter Two - Kegger

JJ doesn't want her, not until somebody else wants her. That somebody else just so happens to be Rafe Cameron

JJ Maybank X Reader, Rafe Cameron X Reader

1.3K

Warnings: Mention of drugs

Chapter One

When she was a girl, she remembered the older kids in the Outer Banks throwing a kegger. She and John B. would watch from the Château as the older Pogues, Kooks and Tourons drank themselves silly in the boneyard.

One day that would be them, they both thought as they watched the party commence. But then she left to live with her mother.

When the Pogues later threw keggers, with John B. instigating the fun, he didn't think of his cousin. He didn't thinking about how this was something they were meant to do together.

But now that she was here, John B. suddenly remembered the conversations they would watch when they were ten.

Things had been different back then. They were both Pogues through and through. But now things were different. John B. was the biggest Pogue of them all. Living rogue, not caring about anything and anyone but him and his friends.

She was different. She wasn't a Pogue anymore. She was essentially a Touron now. Where she was once one of them, she wasn't anymore.

But she was back in The Cut now. In no time at all she'd be a Pogue once again. Just the same as them.

JJ and John B. carried the keg between them. They led the group on their way down to the boneyard, with Y/N bringing up the rear. Her hands were in the pockets of her shorts, kicking at the sand as she followed. A kegger was the last thing she'd wanted right now. As a kid she couldn't wait to join the keggers at the boneyard, but now she wanted nothing more than to go back to the chateau and go to sleep.

They set down the keg and John B. fixed her a drink. She smiled as she took it but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Have a seat," said John B. "More people will turn up soon."

The rest of the Pogues got drinks and, just like John B. said, more people turned up. Pogues, Kooks and Tourons. John B. and JJ handed drinks to whoever approached them and Kie and Pope began mingling.

Sarah sat herself down beside Y/N. "Hey," she said, offering her a polite smile. "I'm Sarah."

They'd already been introduced somewhat awkwardly by John B. and she appreciated this. "Y/N," she said, smiling back. This one seemed more genuine. "So, when did you start hanging around with this eyes?" She asked, pointing a finger between her cousin and his friends.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders and sipped from her red solo cup. "Last summer," she answered. "We had a kinda crazy summer," she said with a laugh.

"With John B. that doesn't surprise me," she replied and finished her drink. "What's up with JJ? He hasn't said one thing to me since I came back."

"Oh you're gonna have to ask JJ about that. Were you guys close before you left?" Asked Sarah.

She nodded her head. "He was my best friend."

***

Rafe Cameron didn't normally crash the keggers the Pogues through at the boneyard. They were beneath him, childish in comparison to the kind of things he did.

But Topper was still obsessed with his sister, still in disbelief that a Pogue had stolen Sarah away from him. Any party they threw, Rafe found himself there, white powder dusting his nose as a way of coping.

He looked around the boneyard. There was nothing there to interest him. Kook girls were stuck up and boring, and Pogue girls were... don't get him started.

He walked to the keg for a drink. "Rafe."

"Pogue."

He snatched the red cup away from him and walked away. The music was meh and the constant chatter was annoying. This might have been one of Rafe's worst nightmares.

Rafe looked around for the familiar face of his sister. He didn't care about her, wasn't looking around to see if she was okay, just wanted to see if Topper was nearby, and if he was ready to leave.

The first thing he saw was the back of Sarah's head. It was undeniably her though. Looked around her, looked for any sign of Topper. But he was nowhere to be seen. Topper wouldn't dare leave without him, Rafe knew that.

Suddenly, he wasn't looking at Sarah. No, he was looking at the girl sat beside Sarah, the one looking past her, staring right at him. They locked eyes for just a moment, but that was enough for Rafe.

He watched as she said something to Sarah, stood and stretched her arms up. She walked past her, wordlessly walked around JJ and Pope, heading to the water.

Rafe stood, not caring much when he knocked over his drink. He brushed the powder from his nose, shoved his hands into his pockets, and headed towards the water. He didn't make a noise, his steps obviously silent in the sand. As he walked, he watched her toe off her shoes, pull off her socks and step into the water.

"You're seriously friends with the Pogues?"

She turned quickly to look at him. "Am I friends with them? I... I honestly don't know," she said. The waves her gentle against her ankles.

"You're new here, aren't you?" Rafe asked. She was gorgeous, he realised as she looked at him. "I'm Rafe."

"Sarah's brother, right?"

Rafe's face fell. "You've heard of me."

But her smile was still kind as she looked at him. "Pope mentioned you, but not much more than that. I'm Y/N," she said, holding her hand towards him.

The way she was looking at him, she had no idea who he was. She had no idea the things he had done. If she did, she wouldn't have been looking at him with such kind eyes. She would have been running for the hills if she knew who he was.

But Rafe took her hand and shook it. "If you're looking for something fun to do, you should ditch the Pogues and come hang with me," he said.

"You got a phone number or something?" She asked, still holding her hand out towards him.

Rafe fished his phone from his pocket. He hesitated before putting it into her hands. Rafe Cameron didn't get anxious; he couldn't explain what he was feeling when she held his phone above the water. He resisted keeping his hands under it, ready to catch it.

"There," she said, handing it back to him. "Now we can hang out."

From the keg, John B. Routledge put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. "Y/N!" He called. When she looked towards him, he beckoned her over.

"I better head back," she said, pointing her thumbs towards her cousin. "It was really nice to meet you, though."

"You too," Rafe said. He watched as she grabbed her shoes and socks, and headed back over to the Pogues. Who on earth was she?"

Y/N headed back to the Pogues. She turned just once to look at Rafe as he still stood by the water. He too was watching her go, and she couldn't stop from smiling at him.

Maybe it would be nice to hang out with somebody else, she thought as she walked over to them. Besides, the one person she had been looking forward to seeing didn't want anything to do with her. He could barely look at her.

She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

Permanent Taglist: @urfavnoirette

Series Taglist: @aragingbisexual21 @f-i-z-z-ypops

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inbloomwriting · 10 months

Text

a kiss that I kept II Jamie Tartt

Plot: Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of Jamie's dad. Notes: Friends to idiots to lovers. Inspired by "Simple Song" by the Shins Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

When I was just nine years old I swear that I dreamed Your face on a football field And a kiss that I kept Under my vest Apart from everything But the heart in my chest

There’s something cathartic about being back home in Manchester. Not as a footballer, just as Jamie. When he doesn’t have to be phenomenal, when he doesn’t have to perform and win. When he doesn’t have to try so damn hard to give his dad a reason to be proud of him.

Without those expectations and without the pressure, it feels good to be home. It’s a part of his childhood that is untouched by his father’s malice. It’s pure and joyful and precious.

He’s not Jamie Tartt, golden child and footballer extraordinaire. He’s cousin Jamie. He’s Jamie from down the road. He’s Georgie’s boy.

It’s been a while since he’s been back, been even longer since he’s seen any of his extended family but being back now, it feels like hardly any time has passed. Millie has always been his favorite cousin so when the envelope showed up in his mailbox, all fancy paper and swirly font, there was no hesitation in him. Nothing could keep him from attending her wedding.

She’s a beautiful bride, all flowy dress and flowers in her hair. It’s almost hard to believe she’s the same kid that used to run around the neighborhood with Jamie, getting into trouble wherever they could find it. But somewhere between chiffon and carnations that little girl still exists. He wonders if the little boy he used to be is still alive somewhere inside of him. He hopes he’s proud of who he grew up to be. Sometimes he doubts it.

His eyes wander across the room, the reception is in full swing, people are talking, laughing, celebrating. Love is radiating from every smile. Though Jamie doesn’t really care all too much about that if he’s being completely honest, he only cares about one particular smile.

And when he catches sight of her, leaning against the bar with a glass of champagne in hand, wearing a gorgeous powder pink dress and daisies in her hair, he’s certain his heart misses a beat.

It would be an understatement to call (Y/N) his best childhood friend. Friend was never a big enough word to describe what she meant to Jamie — what she still means to him.

Jamie Tartt was 9 years old when he met the love of his life. He considers himself lucky to have met her at such a young age. He considers himself a damn fool for fucking it up later on though.

“Are you planning on talking to me anytime soon or do you just want to stare at me all day, Tartt?”

She says it with the same sense of mischief she’s always held. Like a silent promise of adventure perpetually hidden in her words.

“I was going to — eventually.”

“Well, eventually is not good enough for me. I missed you, Jamie.”

It’s only when she pulls him into a hug that he realizes just how much that sentiment is reciprocated. The familiar scent of lavender and the feel of her body against his, it all brings up so many memories of times long gone. This, Jamie thinks, is as close to time travel as humans will ever get.

He is suddenly 9 years old, playing soccer on the field just down the road from his house. His football is old and slightly inflated and some of the hexagons are flaking off, just holding on by a single tread. His goal is no real goal and all but two plastic bottles functioning as make-believe goalposts.

The air smells like sunscreen and summer and dust and life is easy for a moment. He gets to do what he loves without having to prove anything to anyone. Football is just a game here, something to pass the time. It’s fun.

He does kicks and jumps and trick shots and it doesn’t matter if he messes up. He can fail without having to fear any repercussions. There is no one there to judge him for it. Failure is a byproduct of trying not a sign of weakness.

Just as he is about to line up another shot at the makeshift goal, he sees her across the football field. At 9 years old, Jamie doesn’t know a lot of things but he’s quite certain she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. For a moment he wonders if she’s a dream, an illusion. Then she steps closer, comes walking towards him with that bright smile of hers and the glimmer of excitement shining in her eyes.

“You’re really good,” she says. He’s heard that a few times before, it never mattered then because he wasn’t good enough, not to his father at least. It matters when this stranger says it though, because she’s pretty and because she has no reason to lie to him.

“Thanks. I’m Jamie.”

“You’re bleeding.”

His eyes follow to where she points at his right knee and sure enough, it’s scraped up, a drop of blood running down his leg.

“Does it hurt?”

Jamie shrugs as if to let her know that it’s not a big deal. It does sting quite a bit now that she pointed it out to him. He’s not gonna let her know that though, girls don’t like soft boys who whine about scraped knees.

“I have a plaster if you want one. So you don’t get any dirt in the wound.”

She doesn’t even wait for an answer, just rummages through her purse that’s shaped like a little poodle, and pulls out a plaster. Jamie holds out his hand though she doesn’t pay it any attention, just kneels down and softly, so fucking softly, put the plaster over his wound. It’s the first time he smells her lavender shampoo, the first time she smiles at him, and the first time she sends his heart racing.

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

And his life has not been the same since.

“ I missed you too.”

It’s the truth. He missed her terribly. But sometimes it’s hard to reconcile who he is with who he used to be. Who he is now with the person she used to love.

“Could’ve fooled me, you don’t even answer my insta DMs, you ass.”

Even when she curses him out, she regards him with infinite affection.

The girl that put a plaster on his bleeding knee is now a whole woman, but the kindness is still the exact same. The softness she holds for him is still there.

“To be fair I hardly check those. They scare me, honestly.”

“At least your mum updates me on your life. She was always my favorite Tartt anyway.”

He loves how much she loves his mum and how much mum loves her. There is something so inexplicably comforting in knowing the people you love most share a bond.

“Think you’re her favorite too.”

“Oh yeah, I know I am.”

Her laughter rings through the air like the sweetest song he’s ever heard. It’s so awfully cheesy, his own thoughts almost make him barf. But she just has that effect on him.

“You look beautiful today, (Y/N).”

“Today?” she asks in mock offense and though he knows it’s really just a joke, he feels the need to explain himself.

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re always proper fit but that dress? You look like a fucking angel.”

The way she bites her lip slightly and bashfully averts her eyes for a second, is a success in his book.

She really does look gorgeous, a whole vision of perfection. The pink dress, the flowers — the necklace.

A shiny rose gold charm sparkles in the light, resting gently against her skin. Heart-shaped like his feelings for her. He knows the pendant opens up and he knows exactly what he’ll find if he were to open it.

His lips lift in an involuntary smirk.

“What’s that look for, Jam?”

“You still got the necklace.”

She places a gentle hand against her chest, against the heart-shaped charm.

“Obviously. I will never ever ever get rid of it. I love it. You stole this for me!”

He was 14 and stupid and head-over-heels in love. He still remembers the sticky heat of the summer clinging to his skin, the taste of watermelon on his tongue, and the thought of her on his mind.

They spent all day riding their bikes around town with nowhere to be and everywhere to go. It was a good day, a phenomenal day. She shared her ice cream cup with him and held his hand on the way back to their bikes. It was a phenomenal day and Jamie was not ready to let it end just yet. Not when he couldn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes lit up as she looked at that necklace in the shop window.

In retrospect, it was an extraordinarily dumb idea, one of his worst to date, but it made her smile. The way she smiled at him when he gave her the necklace that he stole for her, that made it all worth it. The yelling from mum and the being grounded and the having to pay back the money by working at the store for 3 whole months that summer.

Her smile made it all worth it.

“Mum was so mad at me that day.”

“Well, you did commit theft, so —”

“Worth it though. Made you smile.”

“Oh, Jam you— “

The nickname gives him shaky knees, the interruption by the DJ gives him a fucking headache.

“May all the unmarried ladies please report to the dance floor, it’s time for the bouquet toss.”

“That’s my queue, I guess. Save me a dance, Jamie Tartt.”

He will save her every damn dance in his life. They are all hers if she wants them.

She stands in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by a bunch of other women, a flicker of friendly competitiveness shining in her eyes. If she’s joining in on the bouquet toss, that means she’s not married, does that mean she’s single?

Of course, he could’ve asked mum, she knows for sure, but that would just open a whole different can of worms. You don’t ask your own mum if the girl you’ve been in love with since you were 9 years old, is single. You just don’t, no matter how badly you want to know.

The DJ starts playing Girls just wanna have fun, (Y/N) hated that song. “It’s awfully overplayed”, she said one time they were driving in his car, before changing the station.

She must still hate it judging by the grimace that falls over her face for a mere second before she catches herself and puts another polite smile back on her lips.

Millie stands before the group of women, back towards her friends, and bouquet raised in the air before counting down.

One

Two

Three

The flowers fly through the air and land in the hands of a girl whose name Jamie can’t recall but she’s definitely one of the bridesmaids. Chelsea? Cristy? Something like that. She looks elated, a guy leaning against the bar looks mortified.

(Y/N) seems thoroughly unbothered by it all as she strolls back across the dance floor toward Jamie.

“Do you want me to congratulate you or give you my condolences?”

She just laughs and shakes her head “It’s not like I have any suitors waiting for me to offer them my hand in marriage anyway.”

So she is single. Not that it matters or anything. It’s good to know though.

His eyes sweep across her face, then her hair, where one of the daisies is barely holding on and just about to fall off. Without giving it another thought, as if moving on autopilot, Jamie gingerly plucks the flower from her hair and places it behind her ear. There’s something about her that makes him want to be soft, that allows him to be soft.

“Almost lost one.”

“Thank you, Jamie.”

The tenderness in her words almost sends him to his knees. When you’re used to words being sharp and bitter it’s hard to accept when they are silky and delicate.

“You have the saddest eyes, Jam. What’s bothering you?”

There is a big long metaphorical list of all the things that rest so heavy on his heart. The pressure of having to be the best version of himself at all times. The feeling of failure always creeping up on him. The fear of messing up. The idea of not being good enough.

The reminder of what could’ve been and of all that isn’t.

He has a whole big list of things that make him sad — he doesn’t say any of that though. Just shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance.

“Don’t know what you mean, I’m chuffed. Doing fan-fucking-tastic.”

She can read him like a book, always could. Jamie doesn’t know why he even tries to fool her, it’s not going to work either way.

“I know that’s a lie,” (Y/N) scoffs then regards him with a look he can’t place. It’s a mix between pity and something else, something warm and comforting. “I’m not going to force you to talk to me about it. I’m aware we aren’t as close as we used to be but I just want you to know that I am always in your corner, Jamie. Always.”

He has no doubt she means what she says but Jamie isn’t sure she really knows what she’s talking about. She knew him as a little kid, an awkward teenager, a misguided 20-year-old. She doesn’t know this new version of him. Bitter and a little lost — or maybe a lot.

Jamie isn��t sure this new him deserves her loyalty.

"There's something that does make me sad, actually."

"What's that?"

"The fact that I’ve not had a single slice of cake yet. That’s why I’m here, innit?”

“And I thought you were here to celebrate your cousin getting married.”

“Common misconception, really. I mean I am — but mostly it’s about the cake. Technically I’m on a diet but it's a wedding, that doesn’t count. We all know that.”

They both know he’s just talking out of his ass. Of course, he’s here for Millie. For the wedding and the family get together and all of it. And even a little for (Y/N). Because he really did miss her … so fucking badly.

“Oh well, let’s go get us some cake then. Can’t have you starving, not Jamie Tartt — the island’s top scorer.”

Jamie has done a lot of things in his life that he isn’t particularly proud of. He tries to see them all as learning opportunities, cautionary tales for a future him. Doesn’t mean he likes to think about them. Especially not his short but quite memorable stint on the dating show Lust conquers all. All the worst parts of him put on display for everyone to see and discuss and judge, every night at 8pm.

“You watched that then?”

“Uh, obviously?! What’s a best friend’s job if not to laugh about you while you make a fool of yourself on a dating reality tv show?”

It warms him from the inside out, to hear that she still considers him her best friend. He’s not sure he’s been very good at it in the last few years. Has barely talked to her. But then again, who makes the rules? Maybe some people are bound together so tightly from the very beginning that neither time nor distance can break them apart.

“I’ll have you know that I was number one on famous birthdays the day after I got eliminated from the show. So, who’s laughing now?”

“Were you? How long did that last?”

“Like a day, maybe 2. Then it went back to John Krasinsky, fucking wanker.”

“Aw babe, well you’ll always be my favorite person born on October 20th. “ she says as they both come to stand by the table decked out in cakes and other desserts. “ I do like the office though, hmm…”

"Oh, sod off. You’re breaking my fucking heart.”

He likes the way she hugs his arm in mock apology. She’s not sorry, in fact, she’s still laughing. It doesn’t matter if she’s laughing with or about him though. As long as there is a smile on her face, that’s good enough for him.

“Sorry. Can I make it up to you?”

Jamie nudges her shoulder with his, the way they always did when they were kids. That little boy that was so in love with her, he’s slowly but surely clawing his way to the surface again. Breaking free from Jamie’s ribcage where he has been kept hidden for such a long time now.

“Well, what about that cake then?”

The neon lights dip her in shades of blues and pinks and purples as she twirls on the dancefloor, weaving in and out of the crowd. Jamie is sure he’s seen this very moment in a dream of his before.

“Oh, you look so handsome, my baby. Are you having a good time?”

His mother’s voice cuts through his hazy daydreams as she plops down on the chair next to him. No matter how old he gets, Jamie doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of his mother’s affection. Her unshaken faith in him and her unwavering belief that he is a good man, after all.

“You’re my mum, you have to say that.”

“Absolutely not! Remember when you had that dangly earring? I told you right out you looked like a muppet.”

“Yeah you did,” he nods and takes a sip of his beer “Crushed me, honestly. Loved that earring. Thought I looked well cool.”

“Well, you know who didn’t hate it? (Y/N).”

That gets his attention. Eyebrows raised he takes his eyes off of the girl in question and turns fully towards his mother.

“How would she know? She didn’t see it.”

“Yes, she did. I showed her a picture when we had girls night.”

It's a nice image, his mum and (Y/N) having girls night. Sure, having them team up on him is terrifying, but he can't help but relish in the fact that his loves love each other so dearly.

"Girls night, huh? You ladies talk about me a lot then?"

"Are you joking?"

The way his mum raises her eyebrow is so familiar. It's the same damn expression he sees in himself all the time.

"That girl has been in love with you since you were kids. Of course, we talk about you a lot. You're all we talk about, Jamie. "

As a kid, Jamie always wondered what it felt like to put your finger straight into an electrical outlet. He never did it, obviously. But there was some strong curiosity there.

This is what it must feel like. Hearing his mother say that (Y/N) is in love with him, that's what it must feel like

Electric shocks straight to the heart.

“What?”

His mum just shakes her head, there’s that smile pulling at her lips. That typical mother's smile that tells you that they know you so much better than you know yourself.

“Come on now, Jamie. You know this is how she feels, everyone does. She adores you. Same way you adore her. That is how you feel, isn’t it?”

Of course, it is. She’s everything. She feels like an ocean being warmed by the sun. Warm and inviting and comforting. Beautiful. Tender. Soft.

“Don’t matter really, does it? We haven’t talked in so long. Doubt she even knows me well enough anymore.”

“She watches every match, goes to most of them if she can. She even bought that video game you’re on. Girl is almost as proud of you as I am. Look love, “ Mum rests a gentle hand on his arm. “I don’t know half the things that are bothering you right now but I do know that you’re struggling. I just want you to know that you are not a bad person, Jamie. The little boy you used to be deserved to be loved and so does the man you are now. You made bad choices but you still deserve love. We all make bad decisions sometimes. I know I made a lot of them when I was younger.”

“Hah, like having me.”

He passes it off as a joke but there’s a hint of truth swinging along. She was really young when she had him and while he knows she doesn’t resent him for it, he wonders if maybe her life would’ve turned out better had he not come along. Mum loves him unconditionally and she always makes sure he knows it so it’s a silly thing to think about really. It’s a fleeting thought and it really only shows itself when he’s already deep in his thoughts but when it does, it sends him spiraling.

The slap to the arm is not friendly or in good humor, that one is meant to sting.

“Don’t you ever say that again. You are my life, Jamie. I love you. Having you was the best decision I’ve ever made. You hear me?”

It’s dumb really, he knows Mum loves him. It’s always been them against the world (or well, them against dad, really). But sometimes his head gets so loud and fills itself with stupid thoughts.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry. I love you, mama.”

“Love you too, my baby boy. And I am so proud of everything you ever did, okay? Except maybe the earring.”

A chuckle falls from Jamie’s lips. “The earring was a bad idea, I got it.”

“Good. Now go dance with your girl, yeah? You two are driving me crazy.”

His girl. His girl wraps her arms around his neck when he walks up to her on the dancefloor. His girl looks up at him with the most radiant smile. His girl who feels like the sun and smells like lavender and wraps his heart in silk and sweet memories.

“Finally, thought I was going to have to drag you onto the dancefloor. You still owe me a dance.”

“Sorry. Not much of a slow dancer, yeah? I do know some great boy band choreographies though, and the cha-cha slide.”

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Coach made us learn a full N'sync routine for Doctor Sharon's going away party. She didn't show up but I was fucking ace. I’m sure Keeley has a video of it somewhere.”

She grants him a smile though it doesn't reach her eyes.

"How is Keeley? How are you guys?"

There's an edge to her words and if he didn't know better he'd call it jealousy. But that doesn't make sense … right?

There's no him and Keeley, at least not in the way she's asking about. There never will be. Keeley is one of his favorite people but her friendship means so much more than any fickle try on upholding a relationship doomed to fail. Jamie thinks there's something brave and mature about that realization.

"She's good. We're good. Friends I mean. Good friends."

"No more dating?"

"Nah she's dating one of my best friends. Hated it at first but they're kinda perfect for each other. It's a bit disgusting, really."

Those words manage to pull the smile all the way up to reach her eyes. It's magnificent. Spectacular. A laugh tumbles from her lips, a sound so sweet if he were to taste it, he's sure it would put the most delicious honey to shame.

"You know," Jamie speaks and pulls her closer as they absentmindedly sway along to the music " I never thanked you."

"For what?"

"For the phone call that one night."

It was just after Manchester had kicked him out. No one wanted to sign him. He had burned bridges with everyone who ever stood by him and gave him a chance and Jamie had never felt more lost and more alone.

He just needed someone. A piece of home. A reminder of the 9-year-old boy who loved football for the fun of it all. He needed her.

He hadn't expected her to pick up that night, he really didn’t deserve it. But she did. Of course, she did. She always did.

"You don't have to thank me for that, Jamie. You are you and I am me and I will always pick up the phone for you."

It's such a simple thought. The most basic of all concepts. You are you and I am me and there will always be a space for us in my life and yours.

"I just - I felt very alone and lost and I hated the person I was then. It was like I was some boat or something, stuck on a cliff. And then when I talked to you and you had my back anyway it was like all my fears that I told you about suddenly disappeared, you know? Like you sent me a wave, a flood and gave my boat a lift over the rocks. I know it sounds fucking silly but Ted has me reading all these books with the big words. Making me feel all smart and philosophical."

She's so gentle when she combs her fingers through his hair, tugging some strands back behind his ear. He will never grow tired of soft touches and even softer looks.

"Jamie, even if I didn't like the person you were then, I loved you anyway. I don't have to like you to love you. Loving someone means accepting that they make mistakes but giving them room to become the person you know they can be. You wanted to change for the better and honestly, I think you turned out pretty spectacular."

Jamie isn’t quite sure if he will ever grow used to receiving love in the form of comforting words and soft touches but he truly relishes in it, always.

"Do you wanna get out of here? Party is about to wind down anyway. Don't think anyone's gonna miss us."

The night feels heavy with possibility.

"Sure, Jam. Where do you wanna go?"

"Doesn't matter. Nowhere. Anywhere. As long as I'm with you."

The glimmer in her eyes tells him she has an idea.

The bench by the side of the field looks the exact same it did when he was a kid. Chipping red paint and rotting wood. Initials in permanent marker forever immortalizing past versions of whoever wrote them down. Time forever frozen.

Jamie is 9 years old again and he is also 11 and 13 and 16 and 25. It’s all the same. It’s all so different.

The field is no field anymore, it’s now a proper little football pitch with a goal on each side.

“What happened here then? That wasn’t there when we were little.”

(Y/N) strolls across the field, twirling in her dress illuminated by the moon and the streetlamps. She looks like something out of a movie. He’s sure if he was a smarter man, more poetic, he’d be writing songs about her, poems, books.

In that book Ted made him read, there’s this one line that Jamie suddenly remembers.

“She was dazzling-- alight; it was agony to comprehend her beauty in a glance”

He thought those were just big words for saying some girl was well fit. He thinks he might get it now.

“Yeah well, some of us put together some money and convinced the neighborhood council to finally turn it into a proper pitch.”

“Some of you?"

“Mostly your mum, Simon, and I”

She meets his eyes across the field and his heart still does the same silly shimmy it did when he first saw her face.

“Why?”

“So another little 9-year-old kid gets to play with actual goals and doesn’t have to use plastic bottles.”

They did it for the kids, the community. But they mostly did it for him, for the child in his heart that never grew up. That is clinging to his insides and that only gets to live in his memories and in the hearts of the people he loves. The people that love him.

(Y/N) leans against one of the goalposts, a smile playing on her lips as Jamie strolls up to stand in front of her, hands buried in the pockets of his pants. His jacket is long forgotten on some chair back at the wedding venue.

“You know”, she says and lets her gaze drift upwards towards the sky. There is too much light to see the stars but Jamie thinks there’s still some kind of comfort knowing they are up there even when you can’t see them. The authors of the books Ted gives him, they’d have some flowery pretentious allegory to tell about all of this. He is no author, he's just a fool in love.

“This is where I had my very first kiss. Right here.”

Jamie wonders if she knows of the little electric shocks she sends straight to his heart when she lowers her head and looks straight at him while speaking those words.

It’s not news to him. Of course, it’s not.

He was there.

“Oh, was it?”

“Yup.”

“Hope the lad was alright.”

“He was perfect — for a twelve-year-old. I was also 12 though so I had nothing to compare, really.”

“What was he like? Lucky kid.”

“He had this really badly bleached blond hair. Tried to do it at home with a cheap box dye. Didn’t listen when I told him it was a bad idea.”

“I bet he looked fucking cool.”

“Had a bit of an ego, that one. Still does. Bit misplaced for someone who looked like Draco Malfoy.”

“You had a big fat crush on Draco Malfoy.”

“Yeah,” he doesn’t know when it happens. One moment they’re joking around, strolling down memory lane and the next her hand is in his hair, his hand on her waist, noses almost touching. “I did.”

“Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That was my first kiss too.”

There’s a flicker of surprise shining in her eyes.

“Huh? You said your first kiss was with Emma behind the playground.”

“Well I was lying, wasn’t I? Wanted you to think I’m cool and experienced.”

“We were 12 you dum dum. And I always thought you were cool.”

He was not cool at 12. No one is cool at 12. It still makes him weirdly proud to hear her say it. 12-year-old Jamie would be positively buzzing at that revelation.

“I um — Jamie, why did we never talk about it again? I know we were 12 and whatever but it meant something to me. Did it mean anything to you?”

Some memories, Jamie thinks, are meant to be shared. You want to tell everyone about them over and over again and it feels like you might burst if you don’t share them with others.

And then there are memories that are meant just for you. Beautiful places to escape to. So you keep them hidden in your chest, apart from everything else but your heart when they beat in sync. And they become part of you. And they keep you alive. That’s where he keeps this kiss. The first one. The only one that ever mattered.

“It means everything to me. But I — I wanted to keep that kiss to myself. That was mine and yours and I didn’t want anyone or anything to ruin that or turn it into something bitter and sad. “

“If I were to kiss you again, would you also want to keep that a secret?”

He shakes his head, his nose gently nudging her’s with the movement.

“Nah, I’d wanna scream it from the fucking rooftops.”

When she kisses him he is 9 years old again, seeing his future staring right back at him through the face of a little girl. He is 12 years old kissing her in the field, a kiss he’d kept with his heart ever since. He is 14 crying on the floor of her room the night he got back from the Amsterdam trip with his dad. He is 16 and a prick to everyone but her.

He is 25 and more in love than he’s ever been.

“50 fucking pence? Are you joking?”

“Nope. Dead serious.”

“That’s fucking mental.”

Her laughter echoes through the night as they walk down the familiar streets paved with countless memories. He#s holding her hand and he’s never felt more delighted about anything so simple.

“They still taste fucking great though.”

“They do, don’t they?”

Leave it to (Y/N) to continuously surprise him. As they started their walk back towards her house, she pulled two Cadbury Freddos from her sparkly purse. Jamie can almost feel the sun on his skin from all the walks they did to the corner shop during summer holidays to get some Freddos and a smarties pop-up ice.

“Don’t tell Roy I ate chocolate though, he’s gonna kick me ass.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

Her childhood home is coming into view just down the road and with it the end of this night. The door is a deep red color, he remembers (Y/N) helping her dad paint it when she was maybe 10 or 11 and her parents never seemed to have changed it since.

“Soooo what’s happening now?”

It feels a little silly to ask but Jamie has spent so much time keeping his questions inside of his head and not voicing them to her and he wonders just how much time he wasted because of that. Time he could’ve spent with (Y/N).

“I — I don’t know, Jamie. I want this to be. I want us to be, always did. Probably always will. But I don’t want you to choose me because being home pushed you into some kind of nostalgia-induced stupor or something. I want you to be sure about us. So, how about you sleep on it and tomorrow morning you pick me up for breakfast and we’ll talk? “

If he’s being entirely honest, he doesn’t want to talk. All he wants is to kiss her and then kiss her some more. To make up for every second that he wasted not telling her how he felt. But she is being rational and sensible as always and he has to respect that. Out of the two of them, she was always the reasonable one while Jamie did first and then thought about it later.

“Okay yeah. I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Goodnight, Jam.”

“Night, (Y/N). You look beautiful by the way, not sure I said it.”

“Thanks, you look very handsome too.”

There’s an I love you on the tip of his tongue and he so desperately wants to say it but when she places a kiss on his cheek and opens the red door, all his thoughts just slip from his mind.

“Bye, Jamie.”

“Bye.”

He stays stuck for a moment or two before his legs slowly carry him down the road. The night is inky black and the street lamps' horrid orange-hued light reflects against the asphalt.

So many times he’s walked down this exact road wondering what could be. Wondering how to show her how much he loved her. Wondering if someday, somehow they would end up together.

9-year-old Jamie knew she was his destiny from the moment their eyes met across the football field. What would he think seeing him now, walking away from all he ever wanted?

What’s that quote from that romcom the team watched together the other day?

“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

The shiny black shoes he’s wearing are not meant for running. He figures that out as he turns on the spot and rushes back down the street toward the red door. There is no need for him to sleep on anything. He has never been more sure about anything in his life. Ever.

His heart is racing as he reaches the house, as he knocks on the door, and as he rings the doorbell — for good measure.

His heart stops when she opens the door, her dress gone and exchanged for a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt.

“Jamie? You forgot something?”

“I don’t need to sleep.”

“What?”

“I don’t need to sleep on it. I know what I want. I want us, I want you. Always did. Always will. You’re the only person I want to talk to when I feel shit and you’re the first person I want to tell when something good’s happened. I want to ride my bike with you the way we did when we were kids and eat freddos with you even if they’re 50 fucking pence now, which is insane. I want to go to weddings with you and dress up fancy and I want to sit on the couch and watch movies with you we’ve both seen a million times. I want you to make fun of my stupid earring and have you help me dye my hair and I want to kiss you and tell you how beautiful you are every single fucking day. I want everything and anything as long as it involves you. And I don’t need to sleep on it. I am sure.”

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?!”

“Kiss me!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

It feels right, to hold her and to kiss her. Like all his life has been leading up to this moment. To her soft lips on his and her hands in his hair and his hands on her waist.

And he thinks she might just feel the same. She doesn’t need to say it to let him know. She tells him with his tongue, with the gentle touch of her fingers against his skin, with her breath in his lungs.

He is 9 years old and also 12 and also 14 and 16 and 20 and 25. He is all those versions of himself and each of them was and is in love with (Y/N).

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x female reader #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x fem!reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt imagines #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt oneshot

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chilewithcarnage · 22 days

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psa if youre a fat bitch (gender neutral) like me who hates the summer and sweats a lot & thusly becomes a buffet for mosquitoes, get you some of this

and one of these

these are the off! familycare smooth and dry repellent and thermacell mr300 portable repeller. the off smooth and dry spray in my experience is hands down the best repellent ive used so far because of its powder finish it stays on my skin even while sweating, stays effective at repelling, doesn't have that awful greasy residue that typical repellent sprays have and can also help with thigh chafing. they can be found in the pest control/camp & sports/seasonal section at most stores and cost around $7 (wouldn't recommend buying it at walgreens and cvs, they hella upcharge).

the thermacell unit works by acting almost like a miniature stove. its non electric and runs on butane cartridges which is what that white plastic tube is. you insert it into the bottom of the repeller and slide one of the scent pads (those blue squares) underneath the upper grate and onto the heating plate. how it works is that the butane heats up the plate and releases the scent of the blue pads into the air. it works as a mosquito repellant because the scent masks your smell so the mosquitoes can't pick it up and bite you lol. this one is very effective and the best part of it is that one scent pad lasts for 4 hours (butane lasts for 12), you don't have to put anything on your skin, and it repels up to a 15 foot radius. these usually go for between $19-25 online and at any store that has a camping & sports section. i recommend that if you want this and plan on doing a lot of walking around outside to get the clip on holster (sold separately for about $15).

okay thats enough corporate shilling, stay cool stay safe and stay bug bite free my fellow big body bugattis 👍🏾 👍🏾👍🏾

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pennylanefics · 5 months

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The Letter - Laurie Laurence

a/n: this was requested by @riordanness thank you so much!!! i instantly loved this idea the second i read it. i also tried a slightly different format, writing in third person rather than second because i've felt as though i've been struggling with that lately, but i hope you enjoy!

summary: refer to this ask

word count: 7.5k (this is a long one...kind of got carried away)

warnings - mainly fluff, slight angst, probably out of time period here and there, reader uses she/her pronouns

Falling for your best friend is never an easy thing to go through. Especially when the said best friend is Theodore Laurence.

Laurie and (Y/N) have been friends ever since they were young, being neighbors with each other allowed them to play together every single day during the summer that they were available to, and even during the school year, they’d switch whose house they played at every few days.

They grew up together, experienced big life changes alongside one another, gained knowledge and different skills, and of course, grew into their own personalities. They did everything they could together any chance they could get.

So of course it was inevitable that either one or both would fall in love. And that’s what happened.

On the days where (Y/N) and Laurie would go ice skating on the lake behind her house, her hand tightly in his as he guides her along the outside of the frozen water, their skates clinking as they slice the bit of powder on top of the ice, all she could think of was their hands entwined, how soft his skin is.

On the nights after a full day of ice skating and playing around in the snow, they would go into (Y/N)’s house, where her mother was waiting with two cups of hot cocoa and a couple blankets, they’d curl up and sit in front of the fireplace, giggling, talking about all the fun that they had and making plans for the following day.

On the nights where she was scared to sleep alone, she’d signal across the way to where she knew his room was, he would sneak out of his grandfather’s house and over to hers, and sit on the floor beside her bed and talk to her, or even crawl into her bed with her and just cradle her, holding her as close as he could.

During the moments of doubt where Laurie would wonder if he’d ever be good enough to be what his grandfather expects from him and wants him to be, (Y/N) was there to comfort him and give him any sort of advice she could, holding him as he cried and wiping his tears away with her thumbs, telling jokes to cheer him up.

During the sleepless nights that (Y/N) dealt with, her writing keeping her up, along with the fleeting moments of self-criticism, Laurie was right there by her side, refilling her glass of water and making sure she was taking enough drinks, reassuring her, and even reading what she has written for her.

Both of them unknowingly began to slowly fall in love, those simple moments beginning to mean so much to each of them, special and close to their hearts. However, the yearning was starting to get too much for (Y/N).

Every time she saw Laurie, all she wanted to do was jump into his arms and kiss him sweetly, blabbering out how much she loves him in a deeper sense than just in a best friend way. It was painful, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Until she came to the conclusion on what to do.

It was a beautiful spring day, the flowers were beginning to bloom bright and beautiful colors, the green leaves were glowing bright after a couple rainy days. (Y/N) and her mother were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying lunch, when Laurie knocks on their door. Her mom answers before coming back with a smile on her face.

“Hey,” Laurie greets (Y/N), a simple white puffy shirt adorning his body, the sleeves buttoned up all the way to his wrists, an unusual sight. “Would you want to join me for a walk today?”

(Y/N)’s expression faltered and she sets her sandwich down. She quickly tries to wrack her brain for some semblance of an excuse.

“Um, I wanted to stay in and get a chapter of my story done,” she says, averting her eyes to her plate, a tell-tale sign she was lying. She had finished that chapter last night, but she couldn’t let him know that.

His expression falters slightly upon hearing her rejection, and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Oh, okay…um…” He isn’t entirely sure what else to say. She never turns down a walk with him, something was up. “Is everything alright?”

(Y/N) looks up and sighs, hating the hurt and broken look on his face, but she couldn’t do this anymore.

“Yeah, everything is okay. I’m stressed over this one scene and need to lock myself away for now.”

Every time from then on, when Laurie asks her to go on a walk, invites her over for dinner, asks her to come over, anything, it’s met with an excuse.

“I’m feeling rather tired today, I spent all night writing.”

“I’m meeting a friend in town today, I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“I have to deliver something to a family friend.”

Laurie started to catch on to all these excuses, and as time went on, it had been over a month since the two of them had even spent time with one another. It came to a point where Laurie sat in his room, watching her house like a hawk most days, but one day, noticed her blinds were closed. For some reason, this stung his heart more than he expected it to.

Until one day, things change.

Up in her room, (Y/N) hears her mother and father call for her to come downstairs. Groaning, she throws her book down and trudges down the wooden stairs, creaking underneath her socked feet. That’s when she sees Laurie, and she pauses.

Laurie’s heart aches in his chest at the sight, but he puts on a smile on his face.

“Laurie was just telling us some big news and we thought you might want to hear as well,” her mother beams, reaching out for her to join them in the living room.

(Y/N) slowly walks over to them, taking a deep breath, and offers Laurie a soft grin. He nods a greeting to her and clasps his hands together.

“I wanted to inform you all that I will be heading off to Europe at the end of the week,” he states very strongly, like there was nothing that was going to change his mind. “My grandfather thinks it may serve me well. I will be in France for most of the time, but I will be traveling around, exploring, seeing the world.”

“I think that sounds like it would be a wonderful time, Laurie,” her mother tells him, excitedly hugging him. He hugs her back and his smile widens a little, moving on to shake (Y/N)’s father’s hand.

However, (Y/N) remained in her spot, unable to move, paralyzed with this new information that the man she loves is going away. But then her mind begins to race. Was this her fault? Even though Laurie was grinning at her, she could tell there was a deeper, more painful look he was hiding deep down.

“Do I get a hug goodbye?” He jokes, reaching out for her, trying to break the obvious tension between them. (Y/N) finally sighs and steps forward right into his arms, tightly wrapping hers around his torso. His hands embrace her back, his large, warm hands bringing her back to the nights where he’d hold her as she fell asleep, making sure she didn’t fall off the bed or couch.

Tears prickle (Y/N)’s eyes the longer their hug lingers, so much that she has to pull away to keep herself from choking up and completely sobbing in his arms.

“I hope you have the best time,” she whispers, stifling a cry that was close to being released. She avoids eye contact with him as she steps back to where she was standing before. The tension between the two of them returns as Laurie stares at her, but she doesn’t even glance at him.

Laurie nods his head and bids a goodbye to the three of them once more before walking out of the house and back to his grandfather’s.

“What was that about? You two used to be so close,” (Y/N)’s father chimes in as soon as the front door clicks shut. Both her parents stare at her, waiting for an answer, but she’s unable to say anything. Instead. she takes off running upstairs and back to her room, where she finally breaks down crying into her pillow.

It was finally happening. Laurie was going away for who knows how long, he was most likely going to meet a beautiful French woman and marry her as soon as he could. (Y/N) starts internally beating herself up over it.

I should’ve told him.

I should have made a move.

I shouldn’t have let him walk away from me so easily.

I should have ran after him as soon as he walked out of the door, begging for him to stay.

The remainder of the night, (Y/N) stayed in her room, spending her time staring at the wall and reading small excerpts from the book she was currently reading. Staring out her window after having finally opened the curtain, she notices Laurie’s bedroom was still filled with light, once it was dark enough out to really stand out.

Getting some ounce of courage, she stands up from her bed and grabs a blank sheet of paper and her quill, walking back over to her desk and taking a seat. She dips the quill into the ink and gets to writing, her tongue poking out with concentration, stealing glances at Laurie’s window here and there, getting out all of her thoughts that she was dying to say to him.

After a while of thinking and writing, scratching things out and even starting completely over a few times, she looks over the final version of the letter and smiles to herself. Exhaustion takes over her so she sets the letter out to dry, sets her quill back in it’s little container, and heads back over to her bed to crawl under the covers.

The following days, (Y/N) avoids pretty much everyone, either staying in her room or another part of the house whenever her parents were out. She didn’t want to see anyone but Laurie, in hopes that maybe, if he comes over to see her one last time, she can take her chance.

But no.

Laurie left quietly in the morning, far before anyone else was awake, so early that the only time she realized he was gone was later that night, after the sun had set and the night was calm, did she notice the absence of candlelight coming from his room.

As the months go by, (Y/N) realizes the grave mistake she made in withdrawing herself from Laurie. Life was miserable without him, she pined for their late night talks surrounded by her chaptered work and other stories, she wished he could hold her to sleep one more time, but that was all gone.

He was somewhere off in Europe, and she was stuck in Concord. This is her new life, having to live with the fact that she yearned and longed for his love, but she missed her chance and screwed up entirely.

Every night before she went to bed, she’d scan over the letter just to make sure she didn’t leave anything she wanted to say out, and every night, she would end up changing something. Whether that was a single word, or adding something. It got so much that she had to start with yet another piece of paper at some point.

And every time, she wrote Laurie’s name on the front with such care and love, and would smile when it was finished and dried. She would repeat the same process, folding it carefully, and sealing it with his favorite color wax and her personal stamp, as well as some dried flowers.

This time it was going to stay sealed, she promised herself that and was planning on keeping it.

“How are things for you, Miss (Y/N)?” Mr. Laurence asks her after stepping out of his house.

Since it was a beautiful spring day, she was reading underneath the tree right on the edge of her family’s property, and the older gentleman was leaving to take his daily walk.

“Things are going okay, Mr. Laurence. I got a job at the local library stocking books and that has taken up a lot of my time.” He smiles at her and comes to a stop in front of her.

“And you’re still working on that story of yours? Ready to publish it?” (Y/N) chuckles softly and looks down at her hands, her heart racing in her chest.

“Not exactly. I have put that on hold for the time being,” her shoulders fall a little, and Mr. Laurence sighs a little.

“In due time, you’ll pick it back up,” he smiles down at her before he walks off in the direction he usually walks, leaving (Y/N) alone once more. She tries to go back to reading, but it’s no use. Her mind is filled with thoughts now, remembering why she stopped writing and how she couldn’t exactly tell Mr. Laurence, because it had to do with his grandson.

She decides to head back to the house for some lunch, she enjoys a sandwich made by her mother on the back porch, taking a seat on the porch swing and looking out at the beautiful lake, surrounded by weeping willows blooming beautifully in the spring weather, as well as wildflowers that her and Laurie plant with her mom every year.

This year, it was just the two of them, and (Y/N) didn’t like it at all. Laurie brought a different sense of fun to it, he was constantly cracking jokes or telling stories, now the only noise was her mother humming some tune or telling her about a family member.

Life was different, and all (Y/N) wanted was Laurie back.

To her surprise, that day came two years later.

By now, (Y/N) was in her early twenties and preparing for life as a writer, attempting to establish her name, albeit not easily, the owner of the bookshop she works at was more than happy to lend her stories out, even if they aren’t binded properly or fully complete. She loved getting to connect with people who read her work and had opinions or even constructive criticisms.

Life was finally looking up for her, until everything turned upside down once more.

Fall had come around this time of the year, the leaves changing colors to beautiful oranges, reds, and yellows, the crisp, cool air settling over the northeast and bringing a sense of change. Perfect for the change that was coming.

It was very early in the morning, the sun just barely peaking over the horizon, casting the world in a stunning, orange glow, a sunset like any other. (Y/N) was still fast asleep in her bed, her face smushed against the rather thin pillow, her hair sprawled out all over.

Since she was asleep, she didn’t hear a knock on the door, or her mother answer it and let Laurie in, nor did she even hear his attempt at trying to be quiet walking up the stairs and right to her room. Nor did she realize that Laurie walks in, expecting her to be up and about, holed up as he imagined she would be.

Upon seeing that she was still asleep, he feels awkward for intruding. Admiring her for a moment, he can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips. As he goes to leave, he sees a piece of paper with his name neatly printed on it.

His eyebrows furrow and he takes one step and picks the letter up. His finger runs along the smooth paper that his name is written on before turning it over and tracing the royal purple wax seal, being mindful of the fragile flowers adorning it as well.

He wonders what’s written inside, if he were to crack the wax seal and read it, what would he find? Was it a birthday card? A letter detailing how much she hated him? Something she wanted to tell him, like how she found a lover and was to be married in the coming months?

Whatever was in the letter, he decided against breaking the seal and snooping. Carefully, he backs out of the room and makes his way back downstairs to where (Y/N)’s mother begins making breakfast.

As the food starts to come together and the smell wafts through the house, (Y/N) is awoken by the comforting smell of crackling bacon, scrambled eggs, and fluffy pancakes, her favorite. She bolts out of bed and throws on her morning overcoat, something she brings out for chillier fall and winter mornings like today, and sprints downstairs.

But to her surprise, she finds Laurie sitting there at the kitchen table, while her mother stood at the stove, continuing to cook the bacon and flip the pancakes.

“Laurie?!” She shrieks, her hands flying up to her mouth in shock. Laurie can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face, hearing her voice again and seeing her face, noticing how much she’s grown since the last time he saw her.

Standing up, he opens his arms and within seconds, she leaps into them, wrapping hers around his neck. He tightly holds her close to him, nuzzling his face in her neck and inhaling her scent that he fell asleep to so many nights.

“I missed you,” he whispers into her shoulder, his eyes screwed shut as he tries to keep himself from crying.

The last few times they saw each other were very tense and not the way he wanted to really end things, so the fact that she was here, in his arms no less, it meant the world to him. And he didn’t want to let go just yet.

“I missed you, too,” she whispers right back, not a second thought to her words.

Just as she pulled away, her mother just finished cooking the food, and set the last bit of pancakes on the table next to them.

“Enjoy guys. I will be going around delivering the pies I made last night, so I’ll be back later in the afternoon.” The two bid (Y/N)’s mother goodbye and they take a seat nex to each other at the table, (Y/N) in her usual spot and Laurie at the head of the table, just to her right.

“So, how was Europe?” (Y/N) asks, grabbing a couple pancakes and pouring some syrup over them, also scooping up some eggs and plating them. Laurie does the same for his own plate, grabbing the fork and knife set off to the side.

“It was great, very beautiful. I had a little place in southern France that my grandfather owns, so that’s where I stayed overall. But I traveled all over, to Paris, Italy, Germany, Switzerland.” She raises her eyebrows and grins, taking a bite of her food.

“They must have been gorgeous sites. Did you learn Italian or German?” Laurie smiles to himself and gazes longingly into her eyes.

“Penso che tu sia la ragazza più bella che abbia mai conosciuto,” he gracefully speaks, chuckling softly at her confused expression.

I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever met.

“I have no idea what you said, but it sounded so elegant,” she swoons a little, melting at the smile he returns, a blush beginning to cover his cheeks.

“Well, looks like you’ll have to learn Italian to figure it out,” he winks before taking another bite from his stack of pancakes. A comfortable silence hangs in the air for a moment as they enjoy the food in front of them, both feeling content and at peace with their reunion.

“Um, I was wondering if you’d…if you would like to take a walk with me? Like old times?” Laurie asks, a little scared to considering all the past few times she turned him down. But to his surprise, she smiles and eagerly nods her head.

“I would love that, Laurie. I want to show you this little deer family that sits tucked away in that little hideaway we cut out in the twigs and brush along the pathway a mile or so down.”

“Oh yeah! The hideout we made to escape our parents because we didn’t want to be away from each other. I remember the day we made that.”

“Me too. Every time I walk past it, it makes me smile.”

Laurie has the urge to reach out and take her hand, it’s so close to his resting on the table, so much that he can feel the warmth radiating from her skin, and it drives him mad. But he stays put, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or ruin things once again.

After they both finish breakfast and a bit more small talk, (Y/N) heads upstairs to change into a daytime dress, something simple but slightly thicker than her summer clothes, a nice cream color of the skirt and a natural brown top; it compliments her skin tone very well, and she has always felt beautiful in this specific piece.

Once she is dressed and her shoes are tied, her eyes drift to the letter she wrote and addressed to Laurie, who is just downstairs at this point in time. Picking it up, she admires her own handwriting and the wax seal, something she’s done for months at this point, and sighs, wondering if she’ll have the guts to give it to him sometime today. Quickly, she shoves it into the pocket of her dress and dashes back out of the room and down the stairs.

“Ready,” she smiles at Laurie, guiding him out of her house and onto the trail that they used to walk.

It was just like old times, like nothing has changed and like no time has passed. They laughed like they used to, they shared story after story that happened during the time they were gone, Laurie detailing his daytime adventures of riding a carriage through the French countryside, to (Y/N) describing her work at the library and giving him the gossip of well-known people within the city of Concord.

(Y/N) was smiling so much that her cheeks were starting to hurt; but it was a feeling she welcomed, and a feeling that she could never get tired of. Laurie is in the same boat, a light in his eyes that has been dimmed for years at this point, and she could tell.

As the time went by, the wind started to pick up, cooling off the atmosphere from the blinding sun, and (Y/N) just so happened to forget her overcoat, not thinking it was going to be chilly at all. But, since Laurie is so in tune with her, he immediately knows something is wrong.

“Here,” he pauses his steps to remove his coat. Raising his eyebrows, he reaches out towards (Y/N), silently asking if it was okay. When she goes to reach for the coat, he ends up throwing it over her shoulders carefully, making sure it was secured enough to not fall off.

He offers her a soft smile, one filled with love and adoration, specifically for her. He can’t help but think how adorable she looks in his jacket.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, looking down at the ground in front of her as they continue walking on, her hands grabbing hold of the coat around her and tightening it slightly.

They continue walking for a little while longer, goofing off together like they used to do on their walks, before they start to head back, just after they reached the little hideout spot she mentioned earlier.

“Would you like to go into town? I don’t want to, uh, to part with you just yet, I feel like we have lost time to catch up on,” he smiles as he says this, wanting nothing more than to just be with her for the remainder of the day.

And fortunately for him, she agrees right away.

“Great, just give me a moment for Gerard to get the carriage ready and then we can take off. You go inside for a moment to get warm.” (Y/N) chuckles and steps inside her house after watching Laurie walk further and further away straight to his home. Once he is out of sight, she disappears inside and plops down on the couch. After resting for a moment, she fishes into her dress pocket and grabs the letter, thinking everything over.

There wasn’t a moment during their walk that she could have given it to him, or brought that sort of conversation up just yet. But maybe in town would be safer? No. She would have to face the ride home with him in a carriage of close quarters, that wasn’t an option.

Her fingertip traces the seal and she sighs, shaking her head.

“What are you doing, (Y/N)?” She whispers to herself.

A swift knock on her door startles her and she jumps up, immediately shoving the letter into her coat pocket and stands to head back out with Laurie.

“The carriage is ready,” he grins, holding his hand out for her to take. She gladly places her hand in his and follows him to the front of his house, where the carriage was brought around for easy access.

The city wasn’t as busy as Laurie was expecting, maybe because it was an afternoon of a week-day, or maybe it was the clouds that had rolled in on their way into town that had everyone scurrying to seek shelter in case there was rain or any sort of bad weather.

The first stop was the bakery, Laurie getting a regular croissant and (Y/N) getting a chocolate croissant, her favorite. She then bring Laurie to the library, showing him what her usual job is of re-stocking books, taking the ones recently returned and putting them back on the shelves. It was simple work, but she enjoyed it.

As they continue walking along the street, catching up as they’ve been doing, a little jewelry shop catches (Y/N)’s eye, and they step inside for a little to shield themselves from the chilly breeze that picked up.

Laurie follows her close behind, examining every piece she admires.

“Oh, Laurie, look how gorgeous this is,” she gushes, walking over to a counter with a simple green amethyst necklace, a small emerald cut with a silver chain and silver details holding the stone in place. Her jaw was slacked in awe as her fingers cradle the precious stone.

“That is beautiful,” he replies, noticing the twinkle she has in her eyes as she admires it. But upon seeing the price on it, her shoulders deflate and she sighs.

“If only I could afford it. It’s quite a piece, though.” Laurie nods silently and grins at her. He quickly looks to the man behind the counter and nods his head towards the piece, silently telling him to take it.

Just as (Y/N) turns away, her dreams slightly crushed, she spots a friend walking right past the window of the shop.

“Priscilla?!” She shouts, running straight for the entrance to the shop, slipping out just as Laurie turns back around to talk to the man. Acting fast, Laurie hands the man the correct amount of money stated and takes the box that he packed the necklace in.

Laurie leaves after thanking him, making sure to hide the box in his pocket before finding (Y/N) still talking to her friend. He comes to stand next to her, not saying anything and allowing her to have time catching up with someone else.

“Oh, Priscilla, this is Laurie,” (Y/N) finally introduces him after a small lull in the conversation. “Laurie, this is a friend of mine at the library, Priscilla.”

“Ah, so this is the infamous Laurie that she always talks about.” (Y/N)’s eyes go wide with worry, not wanting her secret to be given away, but thankfully, she continues. “She’s told me many stories about how you grew up together, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well. We do have quite a lot of stories from when we were young,” he chuckles, glancing over at (Y/N) and smiling widely. She laughs along with him, her head tilting back with her laughter, a sight Laurie has always loved.

“Well, I have to get back home, but it was nice seeing you, and nice meeting you, Laurie,” Priscilla waves a goodbye to the both of them before dashing off. (Y/N) watches and as she does, she feels a single drop of water fall onto her nose.

“Do you feel that?” She asks, turning to Laurie, looking up at the sky. He joins her and flinches when a droplet of water hits his eye.

“Looks like we should get back,” he says, reaching for her hand and beginning to drag her away, back in the direction where their carriage was waiting for them to return. Laurie helps her step into the cab of the carriage, their laughter ringing out in the start of the thunderstorm.

The ride back for them was quite relaxing. (Y/N) stared out the small window, the rain hitting her face, Laurie watching her with admiration, knowing that if she turned around in a second and saw the look in his eyes, she’d be very aware of his feelings.

She ends up having dinner with him and his grandpa for the evening, enjoying being back in the house that she spent so many days and nights in, a place she hasn’t been to in so long because it felt wrong to be there without Laurie, especially with how their friendship kind of fizzled out towards the time of him leaving.

But Mr. Laurence welcomed her back with open arms, letting her know she was more than welcome to visit any time. He even invited her back over for dinner tomorrow night, also fitted with an evening of entertainment with her parents and a few others.

When the time came, Laurie walked (Y/N) back home, the rain still falling down from the sky, soaking into the ground to hydrate the dry grass and trees. She used his coat to shield her hair from the rain, Laurie opting to get drenched, as it doesn’t bother him.

They come up to her front porch, chuckling together as they are finally covered from the pouring rain. Standing there for a moment, (Y/N) looks at Laurie and smiles, not really wanting to say goodbye, but she was exhausted.

“It was so lovely to be with you again, Laurie,” she murmurs, worried about how he feels. But when a huge smile stretches across his face, she feels relief course through her body.

“I very much enjoyed it as well. I think coming back was the best decision I have made so far.” A smile slowly tugs at (Y/N)’s lips and she feels her cheeks heat up with a blush. Sure, it wasn’t her that he solely came back for, but she could dream, right?

“Oh! I forgot I’ve been wearing your coat all day,” she realizes just as she was getting ready to head inside her warm home. She removes it from her shoulders and hands it to him, a thankful grin on his face.

“It’s no worries. I think it suits you quite well,” he winks. Again, she gets all flustered and looks down at her soaked shoes.

“Well, um, I better get inside before I get sick, but I will see you again tomorrow night, for dinner.”

“Of course, get some rest and yes, I will be anxiously awaiting for dinnertime to come.”

With that, Laurie turns and trots down the steps before taking off in a sprint back to his home, his own jacket over his head now that he had it back. (Y/N) steps inside and sighs deeply, heading straight up to her room and untying her muddy shoes.

Once she gets dressed in her nightgown and gets all snuggled up under the covers on her bed, she grabs the book she has been reading recently from her nightstand, but something clicks in her head.

She doesn’t see the piece of paper that has been there for years. Her letter to Laurie.

Panic sets in and she starts to freak, checking her dress that was in a pile in the corner of the room to be washed at the end of the week, but nothing was in her pockets. She wracks her brain, trying to remember the last place she put it, until it clicks again.

Laurie’s coat pocket.

Her actions freeze as she thinks over the day, trying to recall when she put the letter there. Things finally fall into place and she falls to the ground, her knees hitting the wood with a loud THUD. Tears immediately spring to her eyes and she starts to shake, knowing that there was a possibility of him finding it now.

And unfortunately for her, this wasn’t to be dealt with tomorrow, as Laurie knocks on the front door softly but just loud enough for her to hear. Slowly, she walks down the stairs, trying to be quiet as to not disturb her parents.

Opening the door, she finds Laurie standing there, his hair drenched with rain, as well as his white shirt and black vest. She didn’t have to say anything, since Laurie was holding the letter up, the purple wax seal broken, a clear sign that he read through it. His breaths were heavy, filled with emotion.

The silence is thick between them, both too scared to start the conversation.

“Is it true?” Laurie asks, staring at her, waiting for her to explain. However, she says nothing and steps to the side to let him in, wanting him out of the chilly, rainy night. But that wasn’t what he wanted, as he heads right to the back porch, gazing back at her, silently asking for her to follow him out to the covered porch.

The two step back outside, and instantly realizing that she wasn’t dressed for it, he puts his coat back over her shoulders, bringing her over to sit on the porch swing together. Laurie opens the letter back up and reads over it again, although that’s all he did when he found it, was read it five times over just to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing.

A smile appears on his face and he folds the letter and brings it up to his face, chuckling to himself as he notices that she sprayed it with his favorite fragrance of hers.

“I’ve always thought of our friendship as different. Not in a bad way, but…a good different. I have always thought you were so very special, as in a beautiful person but also special to me, personally. And then five years ago, when we were seventeen, we were at an event together, with a few friends and family, around Christmastime. You ended up falling asleep on my shoulder, and that’s when I realized I’m in love with you.”

(Y/N) stares out at the backyard, getting lost in the rainfall, but listening to Laurie fully, taking in his words and everything.

“It felt so wonderful to have you beside me like that, even though we’ve been in that position before, and even closer, that moment felt different for some reason. I realized that you are all I wanted in my life. I didn’t want anyone else falling asleep on my shoulder, no one else in that room mattered by you. I wanted to fall asleep with you by my side every night.”

This admission makes (Y/N)’s heart race in her chest, and she finally looks over at Laurie, who also stares foreward, seemingly focused on choosing his words. She notices, even in the dark of the night, the slightly pink tint to his cheeks, though she wasn’t sure if that was from the cool temperature or the reveal of his feelings.

“But then things fell apart. You started acting strange and I figured I was reading signals wrong, that I was misjudging what our relationship was. That you were rejecting me in some way, even though I never voiced my feelings for you. That’s why I moved to Europe. To start new, to forget you, but I found that to be impossible. You were all I was able to think about. Everything I saw, I thought of you. Going to an art museum, I wanted to discuss a painting with you to hear your thoughts. Finding a little bakery and wanting to give you a bite of my pastry. Taking a trip through the French countryside and wanting nothing more than to run through the fields with you, your hand in mine, laughing, with no care in the world.”

Tears were filling (Y/N)’s eyes as he speaks, he was still staring forward and refusing to look at her until he’s said everything he needed to.

“Reading this letter just…brought so many emotions and confused feelings back.”

There’s a pause in the conversation as (Y/N) tries to collect her thoughts before speaking, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

“I love you, Laurie. I do. Everything in that letter is the truth. I didn’t mean to distant myself, but I was scared. I know that is not a good excuse, but I realized I was in love with you too. I took it far differently than I should have because I’ve never felt this way for someone. And I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.” She pauses to take a deep breath, turning her head back to look at the backyard, some parts of it beginning to flood a little due to the amount of rain that had fallen all afternoon.

“But in you pulling away, it made it worse. It ruined it anyway.”

“I know. Believe me, I am well aware of that at this point.” She looks down at her hands, disappointed in herself, and hurt. She was scared of this conversation going south, and things were going to end terribly. “But I would have rather kept you around and yearned for you in private than confess my feelings and lose you. And I got far too in my own thoughts and fear and thinking you wouldn’t feel the same. So I distanced myself. And I know I should not have, and I’m so sorry.”

Laurie takes her words in, nodding along as she apologizes. Opening the letter back up, he reads over it and lets the silence hang in the air for a few moments. His fingers run over the dried ink on the paper, remembering the feeling he got when he read it for the first time, only a little while ago.

FLASHBACK

Laurie enters his room and slips his coat off, hanging it up on the rack right next to his door. He reaches on the inside to grab the box with the necklace out, but also makes sure to check his other pockets just in case he left anything in there. To his surprise, he feels a piece of paper in one, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

When he realizes what it is as soon as he pulls it from his coat, he freezes, not sure what to do with it. But then he gets the idea that maybe (Y/N) put it in there for him to find. So, does that mean she wants him to read it? It must…right?

Going against his better judgement, he breaks the wax seal and opens it slowly, pausing to close his eyes and take a deep breath. His eyes scan over the writing, some words still scribbled through as she changed it last minute.

Dear Laurie,

You have just told me you are leaving for Europe at the end of the week. I hate feeling as though I have caused this, why would you go when you’ve always been by my side for years? So, I am writing this note as a way of getting out all of the feelings that I have, with no repercussions of any. Laurie, you are the most wonderful man I have ever come to know, you love with your entire heart and everyone you meet is like a friend to you. I have fallen so deeply in love with you, so much that it hurts. I yearn and I long to be yours, but fear that would ruin what we have right now, or had once. So I have stayed silent. And in my silence, I have distanced myself, to shield myself from the pain. But I have to say, this is far more painful, knowing you are leaving and will find a woman to love, a love that I dream of. A love with you. A life with you. It has always been what I’ve wanted. Not this. Not distance of thousands of miles and so many hours away. I will miss you, and everything that we shared. But I will never stop loving you. No matter what.

Love,

(Y/N)

PRESENT

Laurie gently traces the last few sentences of the letter, a small grin back on his face as everything finally settles in. He looks over at her, folding the letter back up and shoving it inside his coat.

“I have something for you as well,” he murmurs, his hand remaining in the pocket and producing the small, black velvet box, a slight shake to his grip as the nerves set in. She stares at him, wondering what he has, and when he finally clicks open the box and hands it to her.

She gasps in shock, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, in surprise.

“Laurie…” she whispers.

“I noticed how much you were eyeing it, and knew I had to get it for you. Can I…?” His voice trails off as he motions to her neck. He carefully removes the necklace from the box and turns her slightly so that he can set the necklace around her neck, clipping it to secure it.

She looks down at it and smiles widely, the gem perfectly resting above her racing heart.

“This is too much, it was so expensive,” she tries to reprimand him.

“It is no issue, I wanted you to have it, you deserve to have pretty things.” Her cheeks heat up at his words and she sighs, looking down at her hands.

“Listen, I really am sorry for the way things went.”

Laurie, being cautious of his actions, tilts her chin up just slightly so that she can look into his eyes.

“How about we put it behind us and start a little bit before where we left off,” he offers. “Forget everything that happened months before I left. Like old times, but…no more hiding our feelings.” She softly smiles at his offer and takes a hold of his hands, squeezing them gently.

“I like the sound of that. Can I ask of one thing as well?”

“Of course, of course.”

“Kiss me.”

Laurie takes no time to think about her request and presses his lips to hers, his hand cupping her cheek and holding her close. The two get lost in their own little world, every single feeling they’ve had for each other coming to a boiling point and spilling out, both being unable to control their actions any longer.

Which is why the kiss lasts for minutes, making up for all the lost time that was spent yearning after each other in silence, for the two years that he was gone, everything. Their hands explore each other’s bodies, (Y/N)’s hands going to Laurie’s hair, and his hands running up and down her back and resting on her sides, his thumbs tenderly rubbing her hips.

When the kiss finally ends, he rests his forehead against hers, their breath mixing together in the chilly, rainy night.

“That was everything I’ve dreamed of,” Laurie whispers, moving his lips over to kiss her cheek. “And so much more.”

“I feel the same way. Staring at your lips every time you spoke, wishing I could kiss them all night. Wanting them…all over me.” Laurie blushes and giggles at the suggestive comment from her.

“Well, we now have all the time in the world, mon amour,” he whispers, kissing her once more and cradling her face again. “The rest of our lives, even.”

#laurie laurence #timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #laurie laurence imagines #laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence imagine #timothee chalamet imagines #little women #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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mellowsadistic · 3 months

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The Magician's Game - Chapter 13

Becky’s New Life

Becky awoke from her midafternoon nap, and was immediately assaulted by the strong smell of baby powder, pee, and something yuckier. Every time she woke up, she prayed that everything she’d gone through with the Magician had all been some terrible dream, but when she opened her eyes, it was to see the white bars of her crib in front of her face, and the daycare’s naptime room beyond. It was a sight she’d become very familiar with over the last few months.

She got to her hands and knees, her bare breasts dangling beneath her, and felt her diaper droop heavily between her legs, almost brushing the plastic mattress cover of her cot. She screwed up her face in disgust and shame. She felt as though she was trapped in a nightmare. This was who she was now; an overgrown baby who filled her nappies in her sleep like a one-year-old. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. In fact, some of her former colleagues at the daycare had even made sure to capture it on video, so they could force her to watch her sleeping self lift her bottom into the air and start packing her oversized Pampers while they tittered. None of them liked her – they remembered how dismissive she’d been of their careers, the ones for whom it was more than just a Summer job, and how haughty and harsh she’d been with the children. In their minds, she was getting exactly what she deserved.

Becky got awkwardly to her feet, seething with anger. She hated all of them! How dare those stupid bitches treat her like this just because she hadn’t wanted to spend the rest of her life wiping poopy bottoms! Tears welled up in her eyes. At least it would’ve been better than spending her days getting her own poopy bottom wiped by somebody else… Even after months in diapers, she still hadn’t got used to them. She was starting to think she never would.

One of the daycare staff came over once they saw her standing up in her crib. Erica. Becky felt her spirits sink even lower. They were around the same age, and they’d hated each other when they’d been colleagues. Erica was nothing short of delighted at Becky’s fate. “Finally up from your nap, hmm?” she smirked. “We thought you might stay asleep all day, Beckers! It’s one of your favourite things to do now, isn’t it? Napping? Right up there with going to the toilet in your pants.”

Becky clenched her fists in fury, but did her best to keep her expression blank. She was desperate to get out of her messy nappy, and Erica wouldn’t change her if she was rude. “Please…” she began, but then she saw Erica’s raised eyebrows and realised her mistake. “I mean, pwease Miss Ewica! Baby Becky made a boom-boom! Can I have a clean nappy to poop in?”

Erica laughed nastily. “Oh no, Becky-poo, I don’t think so,” she cooed, her eyes glinting maliciously. “That was very cute, but you’ve only just made a stinky while you were napping! That diapee can hold an awful lot more. What was it you always said? What’s the point in changing the little brats when they’re just going to crap their pants again in a few minutes anyway?”

Becky whimpered.

“Come on, baby-butt,” Erica said, lifting her out of the crib with a grunt of effort and carrying her out of the naptime room and over to a corner where all the daycare’s other charges, her equals, were playing with blocks and dolls and toy cars and stuffed animals. “It’s playtime now,” said Erica. “You can have a nappy change later.” She plopped Becky down on her full diaper, making her groan in disgust.

Another daycare worker came over, a slightly older woman. Harriet was kinder than Erica, but she was no less pleased by where Becky had ended up. She looked down at the twenty-year-old woman on the floor with a patronising smile. “I see this little one’s done naptime potty-poos!” she chuckled. “You’re such a little stinker, aren’t you Becky?”

“Yes, Miss Hawwiet,” Becky lisped. She didn’t have much choice but to answer. Ignoring their questions was the fastest way to earn her a red bottom. The daycare didn’t normally allow corporal punishment, but they made a special exception for her, and most of the staff were constantly looking for any excuse to take her over their knees and spank her to tears. She didn’t know who was worse; Erica, who taunted her constantly about how far she’d fallen, or Harriet, who treated her like she really was just a silly little two-year-old.

Becky played with the stupid toys for what felt ages, closely supervised by Harriet, doing her best to keep her mind off the load in her pants. At last, lunchtime came around. The horrible baby food was nothing to look forward to, but at least it was a break from the monotony of playing with mind-numbing baby toys, and every second was a step closer to getting out of her messy nappy. Harriet led her over to a row of highchairs on one side of the room, where she was lifted up and crammed into the seat.

“Miss Hawwiet, pwease can I have-” she began, but Harriet interrupted her, anticipating her question.

“You can have a change after num-nums, Becky,” she said firmly.

Becky hung her head meekly and allowed herself to be fed spoonful after spoonful of mashed up peas and carrots.

“There’s a good girl!” Harriet cooed in a high-pitched, stomach-churning baby voice. “That’s a good baby! Little miss stinky-bum loves her nummy-nums, doesn’t she? Yes she does! Yes she does!”

Once she’d gone through several jars of baby food, the nipple of a large bottle was popped into her mouth, and Becky started guzzling down the milk within. Harriet held her bottle for her – she was considered far too immature to do it by herself. She hadn’t even held a knife and fork in months, not that they would have been much use to her when all her food went through a blender before it touched her lips.

Becky was halfway through her bottle when she started to wet herself. Instinctively she tried to clamp down on the flow, hoping that this time, somehow, her continence might have returned. But nothing happened. Warm pee soaked her already wet naptime diaper. Her oversized Pampers were now full of so much wee-wee that she could feel it pooling beneath her, unable to be absorbed by the thoroughly sodden padding. It felt almost as bad as the disgusting mess squishing against her bottom.

Finally, with her stomach full to burst with baby food and formula, Becky finished her lunch. Harriet lifted her out of her highchair and carried her over to one of the many changing tables that lined one wall of the room. “Erica!” she called, depositing Becky on the changing table. “Would you mind changing Becky’s nappy? I need to see to the other babies.”

“No problem!” Erica called back. She came over with a sneer on her face. “Hi, Becky-wecky,” she taunted, once Harriet had left. “Somebody definitely needs a diapee change,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “What a yucky little girl you are, Becky! Always pooping your pants. You used to hate changing messy nappies so much. How does it feel wearing them yourself, knowing that you’ll never use a toilet again?”

Becky couldn’t look her in the eyes. She could feel tears welling up inside them.

Erica pushed her onto her back and started undoing the tapes of her diaper. She gave the front a quick little rub as she did so. “Crinkle, crinkle!” she teased. “Do you remember what it was like to have a man touch you down here?” She laughed. “Do you even remember what it was like to wear panties? You are quite pretty – I bet you had no trouble getting guys. But those days are over now, aren’t they Becky? No more boyfriends for you. The best you can hope is for a handsome daycare worker to change you!”

Becky started to cry.

“Awww,” cooed Erica, her tone mockingly sweet. “Poor wittle thing. Does baby Becky-wecky miss being a gwown-up? Does she miss wearing big girl clothes and eating adult food and having people talk to her like she’d not two years old? Does she wish she could use the potty again instead of doing all her pee-pees and poo-poos in her pants?”

Becky cried even harder, until Erica took a large pink dummy out of her apron pocket and shoved it into her mouth.

“There we go!” she said happily. “That will shut the baby up.” Then she pulled down the front of Becky’s nappy and lifted her legs into the air by her ankles. “This is where you belong, Becky,” she said, wiping at the woman’s messy bottom with one wet wipe after another. “On your back, legs up, getting your dirty diaper changed. I can’t think of a more perfect way for you to spend your life!”

Becky wailed like an infant as Erica finished wiping, powdering, and changing her bottom into a clean, dry nappy. Once the final tape was in place, Erica picked her up once again and carried her back through to the naptime room to deposit her in her crib, this time for her afternoon nap.

“Night-night, Becky-poo!” Erica said, patting her firmly on her padded bottom before she left. “See you when you wake up!”

Still sniffling, Becky buried her face in her pillow and quickly felt herself drifting off. She’d taken so many naps now that her body was used to it. Her eyes fluttered shut, and just as she drifted off to sleep, her bowels lurched into life once more, so that she could go through it all again. And again and again and again, until her adult mind finally broke forever, and she was left as a drooling, pants-filling baby for the rest of her days.

#mellowsadistic

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