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hellfirenacht · 2 days

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Reader ==> Have Lunch With Hellfire Club

Isekai Chronicles Master List

START HERE <<<--- FIRST CHAPTER HERE

Fic Summery: Through no powers of your own, you end up in Hawkins 1985, in a tv show that you once saw on Netflix. Slow burn, Eddie Munson x Reader will be canon, choose your own adventure to a degree, monkey’s paw author.

Chapter Summery: You sneak into Hawkins High to have lunch with Hellfire Club.

Tags: Eddie and Reader, sfw, Reader is on her period, reader is also just a little horny and touch starved but nothing really happens with that.

Reader ==> Have Lunch With Hellfire Club

"Ow'' You hissed, laying your head down on the cool table. You had been doubled over for 10 seconds and most of the club looked at you with concern.

"Uh... You good, Lipton?" Jeff asked.

You winced, from both the cramp and what he'd called you. Why did no one at this school use first names? It was already hard enough responding to a false name to begin with, even after memorizing the information on your new kinda-fake ID card. Thanks, Murray.

"Just dying. It's fine, I'll live." You groaned, and forced yourself to sit up and look down the table at Eddie, passed Mike and Dustin. "Got any painkillers?" You asked.

"None that would help you." Eddie shrugged.

"Ah, lovely." You laid your head back down as another cramp shot through your uterus.

It was the last day of school before Hawkins High went on fall break. You had snuck over to the school to have lunch with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire Club. Currently, all of you were sitting outside, enjoying one of the last warm days before the cold set in. Out here, none of the teachers would see you all, and even if they did, they wouldn’t take note of one extra person who shouldn’t be on school grounds anyway. Besides, it’s not like it was your first time sneaking into the school, as it had become a habit over the past few weeks as you made yourself a part of Hellfire.

By this time next week you’d be set up in the small trailer on the opposite end of the same trailer park that Eddie lived. Just a few more days and you could finally move out of Benny’s and you could stop dealing with stupid jocks and bugs and all the other bullshit that came with being a squatter.

"What's wrong with you?" Asked Gareth.

"Alphabetically or chronologically?” your voice was deadpan and muffled from being pressed against the old picnic table. “And how much time do you have?"

You wondered briefly what “chronologically” even meant with you. Would you start chronologically in a direct timeline starting in 1895? Or maybe you’d start at the year you were born and loop back around.

"She can't be in too much pain if she's still a smartass," snorted Jeff.

"You're laughing. A party member is bleeding to death and you're laughing." The cramp subsided and you sat up again.

"Gross." Muttered Gareth.

"I bleed for days at a time and survive. Get on my level" you hissed.

"Level 5?" Jeff shot back. "You're still behind us, even with Henderson's help."

"Motherfucker I swear-"

"Hey now, no need to fight" Dustin piped up, looking between everyone with concern. "We're all stressed because of midterms, we don't need to take it out on each other."

You closed your mouth and backed down. You didn’t mind the occasional fight with Gareth, honestly you almost enjoyed it when he picked a fight with you because it meant you could blow off some steam. But Dustin was currently your only real friend, and you weren’t going to risk pissing him off. That kid was the only one to try and figure out how you ended up here anyway.

Plus, he’d been running some one on one adventures with you between Hellfire meetings. With Eddie insisting that all new players start at level 1 no matter what the party was at, Dustin had convinced him to let him do some smaller adventures to help you try and catch up with everyone else. Sometimes Mike and Lucas would even join in.

"Just ignore me." You sighed. "I'll live even if it kills me." You looked at the uneaten sandwich in front of you. The idea of eating it made you feel gross even if you were hungry. You grabbed it and tossed it down the table in front of Eddie who looked at you with a cocked eyebrow.

"Don't want it. You eat it." you mumbled, forehead against the table again. You were starting to feel like you should have just stayed at Benny’s until it was actually time for Hellfire.

"You gonna be okay to play tonight?" Eddie asked. "Or do you need us to find a sub for you?"

You shook your head. "I'll be there." You promised. "I'll just hit up Robin or someone for some aspirin before the game and I'll be fine. Might not be the most talkative-"

"That'd be a first." Muttered Jeff.

You flipped him off. "I'll be there. I can still roll dice as well at anyone here."

Eddie grinned. "Good, and I'm not gonna go easy on any of you tonight."

"Do you ever?" Mike laughed.

"Yeah, you've always been tough on us, but Cult of Vecna has been your most sadistic campaign yet." agreed Jeff.

"That's because this is my year." Eddie said. "I'm gonna graduate and I'm going out with a bang." Eddie drummed on the table with his hands, revved up now. The vibrations of his drumming echoed through your head and you sat up again.

He stood up, the sandwich left forgotten for the moment. You watched him, and the way he moved was like a full-on rainstorm. Eddie only ever seemed to have two modes, 'on' and 'off'.

He was very much on now.

There was a fire in his eyes that had burned you for the past month since you'd been invited to Hellfire. Your initial attraction to a fictional character turned coworker had burst into a full blown genuine crush. In the autumn air, his cheeks were flushed red from the cold and his natural excitement, and his hair was flying everywhere. Even with Eddie circling the table as he bragged about his campaign to the members your heart felt like it might leap out of your chest, distracting you from the other organs inside you that were ripping themselves apart.

A firm hand grasped you at the crook of your neck, and you tensed slightly at Eddie's touch, your mind blanked for a moment as he made physical contact with you.

Eddie was... Very handsy. He wasn't afraid to grapple, wrestle, grab, and generally put his hands on his fellow Hellfire members. Eddie had picked up Dustin and Mike by the shirt collars and pushed them more times than you had bothered counting.

This however, was the first time he had laid a hand on you. You held your breath as you tried to ignore the shiver that slid down your spine and into your core. You didn’t dare let anyone see that this had any effect on you.

‘Not the time, self.’ you scolded yourself.

Eddie gave you a shake, which changed that warmth in your core to a vague sense of nausea.

“Please don’t shake me right now.” you groaned. Your guts were not interested in physical movement right now. Your legs were already nearly constantly sore from biking everywhere.

To Eddie’s credit, he did stop. His hand was still firm against you though, and you could feel the cold metal of one of his rings against your skin.

“See this one,” he gave you one more shake, the asshole. “This one is so metal that even though she probably should retreat tonight she’s still willing to show up for us.”

The compliment made your heart swell and the air didn’t feel so brisk as your own cheeks warmed up. You tilted your head back to look at him with surprise; Eddie didn’t hand out compliments too lightly with the club. He was always so straight forward, firm. He wouldn’t say anything unless he meant it.

“I’ve always shown up when it mattered.” you said quietly, flashbacking (flash forwarding?) just a split second to a group of friends from the future. Not that it mattered, I guess. What was that??

The hand slid off of you, and a sense of emptiness echoed through your chest and at the loss of the warmth and pressure. You shoved down the lump in your throat by taking a long gulp of water. You had been here for nearly 2 months, and that had been the first bit of physical contact you had with anyone outside of a small scrap with Murrey or a handshake with someone, or your literal run in with Steve Harrington.

One small touch, and you felt like you were falling apart. You were really starting to be sick of this feeling.

Eddie sat back down and pulled out the sandwich you had offered him and you watched it disappear in 4 bites.

“Jesus Eddie, did you even taste that?” asked Mike, and to be fair it was a valid question.

“Didn’t need to, it was edible. Thanks, Lipton”

“Why do you all keep calling me that?” you asked, looking around the table.

“What, ‘Lipton’?” Mike asked. “I don’t know, it’s just something we do here.”

“Could... you please not call me that? Just call me by my name please. Or ‘Dipshit’. Or ‘Hey You’ or ‘That one girl in Hellfire’. Anything else.”

“You’re barely in Hellfire.” Gareth grumbled, flicking a chip crumb off the table and onto the dirt below. Gareth had been nice enough the first night you showed up for Hellfire, but then the more you hung around the less he seemed to like you. You’d deal with that later.

Eddie looked over at you, his wide brown eyes meeting yours and he said your name.

The back of your neck prickled at the sound of your name on his lips. You wanted him to say it again.

‘Not the fucking time, self’ You scolded yourself again. You had so many bigger issues than a guy with pretty brown eyes and a chipped front tooth that made your stomach explode in butterflies.

Oh, who the fuck were you kidding? You did not. In fact, he was absolutely the main problem that you were going to have to deal with in a few months. If he wasn’t planning on being a hero, maybe you could actually sleep at night.

You gave him a small nod, and wondered if you looked as tired as you felt.

“Sorry, it's an old habit.” Dustin said. “We’ll stick with your first name”

“Thank you.” you said, relaxing. You looked at the time, not long until lunch was over. Then two more hours, then school was over. Hellfire started at four, a half hour after school ended. That gave you a few hours to just wander around aimlessly until school ended.

You zoned out for the rest of lunch, poking at the food you had brought until it was all passed along to Eddie. He never did bring enough food for himself anyway.

When the bell rang you took your time gathering your stuff up as most of the club started back towards the school building.

As you were about to turn and head in the opposite direction towards the woods. something grabbed you by the shoulder and moved you behind a tree before you realized what was happening. Eddie stood in front of you, hands on your upper arms, head tilted with that look of intense concern on his face. You found yourself stiff under that gaze, thrown off by how he had suddenly grabbed you.

“Eddie....?”

“I meant what I said, earlier.” he said. “There’s no shame in retreating. If you feel like shit, you don’t have to come.”

“I want to.” you said. “I- I really do, I promise. I don’t want to let you down.” It took you three seconds to realize that you had said ‘you’ and not ‘everyone’ and heat burned your cheeks.

Eddie put a hand on your forehead. “You’re warm and you look like.. You look fucking tired.”

“....Thank you, Eddie. Just what every woman wants to hear from a man.” Your voice was deadpan. “I’ll be fine. I just need to take an aspirin and maybe take a small nap before Hellfire.”

His brown eyes bore into yours and you wondered how easily he could see through you. “Come on, you can take a nap in my van.” Eddie didn’t bother giving you a chance to answer before dragging you around the school, towards the parking lot.

It took a moment for his words to register in your brain as you followed him. "....Huh?"

"I have some spare blankets and a pillow back there. I crash in the back all the time. Might not be the... Cleanest or the most comfortable but it's safe. Not like anyone's interested in messing with the freaks van" He said, his hand sliding down your arm to grab your hand.

Eddie was holding your hand. Shit shit shit shit shit-

Your brain caught up to you. "Ah, yeah that would be really nice actually." you said. "I probably really need the short rest of I'm gonna survive you tonight."

You wondered if Eddie realized that he had given your hand a squeeze. "Get those spell slots back, you're gonna need them."

"Thank you, I really do appreciate it.” And you did, passing out in his van was definitely safer than passing out in the woods somewhere until Hellfire started.

Eddie looked over at you and smiled. "Everyone in Hellfire has crashed in that van at least once. It's basically a right of passage to help break in the newbies."

You couldn't stop your mouth from running. "You break in all the newbies in the back of your van?" You looked up at him with a teasing half grin. "Damn, this really is a cult." ‘Not. The. Fucking. Time. Get your head out of the gutter please.’

Eddie snorted and shook his head. "You'd be surprised what's happened in the back of that van."

"Sex and drugs and rock 'n' roll?" you offered. ‘What did I just tell myself??’

"Two out of three. I'll let you guess which ones."

The bell rang and you jumped. "Shit, you’re gonna be late to class.” You looked over at Eddie, worried about his getting in trouble.

“It’s just gym, no one will care if I’m late” he said. “I don’t like being the first in the locker room anyway. Are you sure you're okay?" Eddie asked, looking you over. "I'm not trying to be a dick but you really look rough."

"I feel rough. I'll be fine." You promised. "I just need a nap. You said it yourself, I'm metal. Can't exactly let everyone down when you called me that."

"You're either very brave or very stupid." Eddie said, opening the back door to the van, giving a sweeping gesture to motion you inside.

You tossed your backpack in first before crawling in. To your surprise Eddie hopped in with you and closed the door.

"Just need to move some things around. As a Hellfire member and your DM, you know that what happens in this van stays here." Eddie's eyes narrowed slightly and you nodded dumbly, wondering if he was aware of how some of the things he was saying sounded. "Good."

He pulled up a section of the floor where a spare tire should be, and pulled out a small box. You leaned against the back of the front seat, closing your eyes. Whatever Eddie was doing, it wasn't your business, not when he was being so nice. You really thought you had completely blown it a few weeks ago when you first went over to his home, but by some power he kept letting you hang around. Being coworkers probably helped.

With your eyes closed, you breathed in deeply and took in the scent of the van. There was a lingering smell of weed and cigarettes, mixed with the natural smell of him and a hint of some sort of air cleaner to mask the smells. It could have been much worse, you found that your tolerance for the scent of narcotics had gone up a lot since being here.

Your body was already starting to relax, knowing that rest was coming soon. You had been running around Hawkins all week between shifts and doing your own investigation work of the town, looking for anything that could help you come Spring Break.

Something soft hit your head and you opened your eyes. Eddie had tossed you two blankets and a pillow. "They were washed recently." He said.

"Eddie you- can you come wake me up before Hellfire?" You asked, feeling the texture of one of the blankets. It was worn and thin but nice against your hands. "I don't have a watch or an alarm." Your watch had died two days ago and you wouldn’t be able to get a new one until Bev paid you again.

"Don't worry, I'll need to come back here anyway. I'm keeping my notes for today in the front seat. Don't peek. I'll know if you do, and there will be consequences." Eddie's tone was serious as he tossed his Hellfire notes in the front seat. He put his whole being into this campaign, and you wouldn't dare betray that trust that was starting to form between the two of you.

"Wouldn't dream of it, I doubt I could read your chicken scratch handwriting anyway." you said and he grabbed the pillow from you and smacked it on your head again with a laugh.

"Stan tried once. Once. He learned his lesson after that. He didn't even read the right notes, he ended up with an attempt at my English homework."

Stan. Another name from his past that never was in the show. You had already accepted that Eddie was real, even if it had left you spiraling for a good two days. But there were still small moments to just how real he was. Hellfire Club existed before now. Eddie had friends before this version of Hellfire. Each new piece of himself that he offered you was tucked away in your mind, a reminder of what you were really working for. You wished you could offer the same.

It was comfortable in the back of the van with him like this. You could count on one hand the amount of times you had been alone together for longer than five minutes, not counting your shifts together at The Hideout . There was a part of you that was still nervous about being with him, this person who shouldn't exist with you.

Eddie looked at his watch. "Business calls. Get some rest, I'll be back for you before Hellfire."

"I'll try not to die in your van."

The van shifted as he scooted over to the door, opening it and letting in the late September air for a moment.

“Night" He said before closing the door behind him, leaving you alone.

Reader => Take A Nap In Eddie’s Van

You grabbed the blankets and started adjusting them. Thankfully there were no mysterious stains on any of them, but the pillow was very much a 'boy pillow' which was flat and old and offered zero support. But it was his and it smelled like him and it was... More clean than expected. Not like you had any room to complain.

You laid back and took a few slow breaths. You didn't expect to actually get any sleep but some time to just lay down and relax was enough for now. You were sure that Eddie would tire you out again tonight-

‘With the campaign you fucking pervert.’ You scolded yourself, trying to ignore the warmth in her stomach again from just his hand on your arm and shoulder. Hellfire was always very high energy, and Eddie's stamina was unwavering. As a Dungeon Master- no fuck, not that kind of dungeon master-!

What was wrong with you today? Being on your period and the stress must be catching up to you. You were starting to think you needed to get laid. Or maybe convince Steve or Robin to loan your their Family Video discounts to rent from the back room-

No. You were NOT going to hit up a jock and his lesbian best friend for porn. You didn’t even have a VHS player.

You were so fucking touch starved.

You shut your eyes tight and tried to clear your mind of any perverted thoughts. It was pleasant in his van in a weird way. Cool, and parked in the shade, and just dark enough to let your mind shutdown slowly. Maybe you’d get a contact high, but you didn't know enough about drugs to know and at this point you were too afraid to ask.

You tossed and turned for a bit, trying to get comfortable enough to just relax. The van's floor was hard, and it took a half hour to find a position (with doubling your backpack with the pillow) where your brain could shut down fully.

It felt like you had just closed your eyes when a knock came from outside. You jumped and sat up quickly, fumbling in the sheets to cover up before remembering that you were still fully clothed.

"Wake up, Sunshine, Hellfire starts in 15 minutes!" The van door opened and Eddie smiled at you. "Hand me my bag"

You reached for his bag and pushed it over, shaking your head to reoriented yourself. Right, Eddie's van. Naptime.

"Last chance to back out." Eddie said. "Say the word and I'll walk away and drive you home after Hellfire."

"I'm okay!" You said, not knowing if you were going to crash at Benny’s or in a basement. "I actually feel a lot better after laying down for a bit. Just let me use the bathroom and I'll be all good for tonight, I promise."

Eddie reached out to take your wrist and help you out of the van, and you stumbled slightly before readjusting. Eddie grabbed your arms to make sure you didn’t eat shit on the pavement.

"I'm good, you just threw me off. I'm fine, Eddie."

Eddie answered by letting you go and closing the van door. "You know the house rules. Anyone late gets a penalty at my discretion."

"Yes, Dad" you rolled your eyes and the two of you made your way back to the school. Once inside you stepped away and slipped into the bathroom to freshen up and readjust your clothing and pee. After splashing some cold water on your face and cleaning up you did feel a lot better.

"You actually showed up" Gareth said as you made her way down the stairs.

"Get on my level Gareth." you said, taking your seat at the table.

"Feel any better?" Asked Dustin.

"Yeah, much better." You pulled out your folder and set your mini fig on the table. "Eddie let me crash in his van for a bit."

The overhead light went out and with a click a single lamp that hung above the table flickered on. Eddie was now seated in his 'throne', his side of the table now set up.

"If we're done chatting now gentleman, lady" he nodded at you. "Last we left the party...”

Notes: I haven't forgotten about this series! I feel like I am constantly writing and yet have noting to show for it lol

So what would you like to see Reader do next?

Tumblr User ==> Leave A Suggestion

Dividers by @strangergraphics

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader

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rainofthetwilight · 1 day

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LEVI I WANNA GIVE YOU TRAMUA ABOUT ARIN

So, we all know that Arin is struggling to improve his spinjitzu and he feels useless and just wants his parents back.

…He feels jealous. And we know that he doesn’t have an elemental power according to Doc Wyatt.

And he will *probably* fight Sora if he finds out that Sora “helped” his Object Spinjitzu.

What I see from Arin is that he is slowly getting traumatized..

And I have multiple questions from where Arin’s arc is going.

My biggest question is, is the ninja holding Arin him back or his parents holding him back? I think it both.

Not to mention that there is so much foreshadowing to Arin’s arc.

And why do I imagine Arin is just trapped in like, a cage full of insecurities, or trauma? And I can imagine that he can’t get out of that cage.

Ras said that Arin is not improving since the first time they met, Egalt said that Arin is useless, Sora is improving and might be able to learn spinjitzu, and most importantly, Lloyd’s and Arin’s relationship is slowly falling apart like Wu and Morro.

My poor Arin is just having one HECK of a trauma here. And I swear to the Fsm if the writers gives Arin has even more trauma in season 2 part 2 than part 1 I will throw a chair.

But who knows…? Someone said that it was a cannon event that every sunshine character has an angst arc.

Sorry for making you insane, Levi I just wanted to share this idea with you just for fun.

And also, do you think that Arin is going through 5 stages of grief or..? Idk, I wanted to ask you and tell me what’s your thoughts on this.

AHDHAJDBJAJDJAJSNANA YEAH I'M. I'M NOT OKAY RN 👍👍👍

also absolutely do NOT apologize for making me insane I am literally loving these asks so much bro SHDJAJDJW 😭 I love analysing silly lil lego characters w/ you all <333

the thing about the foreshadowing is that it actually feels very intentional, like obv I know foreshadowing is pretty much always intentional but like..you get what I mean?

they are constantly reminding us how much of a great person arin is, in s1 especially. he's a good friend, he's kind, he trusts people quickly, always has that hope in him and so much more. something is definitely going to happen, even if the whole sora helping him thing didn't happen, he is going to be put through the wringer whether if he actually gets an evil arc or not

plus, he already is traumatized. loosing your parents and neighborhood all in one day while navigating an entire new world with so many new places and people on your own (at first) , while only being atleast 10 years old, is pretty traumatizing all in itself. but even after all of these years, he still had hope, he still had hope that his parents and heros could come back. and guess what? his heros did come back, and what did he exactly say again?

''if I loose hope the ninja could come back, then I loose hope that my parents could come back."

even after the ninja came back, his parents didn't. all these years he relied on his hope for the ninja to come back to bring his parents back aswell, but their whereabouts are still unknown. add that to the extreme pressure of saving the world from ending and the amount of self doubt he has, that's when the shell of his hope finally began to crack

in s1, the return of the ninja gave him even more hope than he had before. he was still excited and animated, and finally got his dreams to come true (becoming a ninja). the thought of his parents holding him back didn't plague him as much as now, because that hope in him was still there and it only grew stronger each adventure. but now, even after a long while since the ninja had came back, his parents were nowhere to be found. and that just hurts

dude the insecurities part AGHDJS...the weight of being a ninja was finally becoming heavy on his shoulder and that only added to his frustration and anger of not being good enough. he sees his friends around him improve, and be useful in a way, unlike how he had failed time and time again without achieving results. and with egalt calling him useless and ras constantly reminding him how he still hadn't improved, and he feels jealous even tho he doesn't want to, and it just made everything worse.

I'm also thinking abt how sora accidently reminded him of how he didn't imporve aswell, by saying "your spinjitzu is just as good as when I met you!". and even though she meant it in absolute good faith, that's just it to arin. that's it, he was still in the same level he was the first time, he didn't improve. and with how he got angry at her when she was only trying to cheer him up after what happened, I can't even imagine what would happen if the news of that spinjitzu throw help thing comes out

ALSO. ARIN GOING THROUGH THE FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF. DUDE NOW THAT I THINK ABT IT..

anon had also sent an ask abt this too!!!

so like, now that I actually think abt it, what if that hope was actually just a cover of his denial? the five stages as we all know are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance in that order. so like...what if that hope wasn't really hope, but instead a disguise for denial?

whenever the topic of his parents came up, especially in s1, he kept denying the fact they wouldn't come back. same with the ninja, he still believed they were out there

and now in s2, we see his self doubt and his trauma catch onto him. we saw how angry he was at himself, even to the point of shoving lloyd away when trying to comfort him and almost snapping at sora when she was trying to do the same. we don't see much of that 'hope' like in s1 anymore. it's much more..sadder, more angrier even

and with all this, he's most definitely going through them, now on the second stage. first in denial of his parents and the ninja not returning, and now anger at himself and the world for hating him like this

when I tell you I am so so excited to see what they do with arin's arc w/ all of this going on for his character I am not lying bro, I'm so insane AHDJSKDJJW 😭👍

#ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago spoilers #dragons rising spoilers #ninjago arin #levi's asks #ty for the ask!#levi's analysis #also sorry it took a while to answer these asks!! school's been kicking my ass 👍 (and final exams r in like 2/3 weeks 😭)

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 2 months

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home from work

#if I speak…#one of the girls walked out yesterday #the best worker we have is on the verge of blowing up on this bitch’s leaders bc since he can do everything quick and efficiently already #they’re putting 3 to 4 ppl’s workloads on him to see how far they can extend his worth and then they’re over his shoulder the whole time #micromanaging him so today he almost lost it and was literally walking around mumbling about his disrespectful they all are (facts)#and how if they don’t think he’s doing it right then they can do it and I know for a fact one of the ladies heard him #bc he wasn’t even trying to hide it at this point and like this dude is cool he has a lot of patience and helps out any way he can #so if HE’S on the brink of snapping then the rest of us don’t stand a chance LMFAO #anyways today was a fucking mess those leaders know nothing about our store yet so they have us making less than what we need until we need #it so we get behind constantly and they made prep a disaster bc again they think they can just prep a bunch of stuff in the morning #and it’ll last the whole day and yes that works in theory but the reality of the situation is every day is different and today #we sold double what we did yesterday so they had to move me to prep to fix their mistakes bc we were running out of stuff 4 hours in lmfao #and I’m the only one left who knows how to do everything on prep bc the other girls had never done it before #we’re supposed to prep 20 mac n cheese trays in the morning for the whole day #we open lunch at 10:30 tell me why I go into the cooler at 12 put more in the oven and there’s only 5 left #it’s been less than 2 HOURS and you’re already running out of macs which means those idiots prepped barely anything just to try and save mo #*money to cut down waste but that gag if you’re losing money bc now you’re short on everything and customers are leaving bc they’re having #to wait a long time for their food #and macs take 40 minutes to cool LMFAO #I get over there they’re out of parfaits they’re out of fruit cups they’re out of kale salads the front is coming in and having to take #stuff as I make it bc they keep getting orders and it’s all just a fucking mess #I have to make a custom wrap and what happens?? those morons didn’t pull the flatbreads out of the freezer like they’re supposed to every #night so now we have no flatbread and I had to run back there and put them in the warming drawer to defrost and we lost an order bc I had #nothing to make the wraps with <3 #I go back there to get more cold chicken SPOILER ALERT they didn’t have anyone make any this morning so now there’s no chicken for the wrap #and salad and it has to be grilled and then chilled for 2 FUCKING HOURS before it can be used #they’re a fucking disaster like 😭#was the store perfect before?? ofc not but it ran quickly and efficiently as it should and now it’s literally just a mess #this bitch hasn’t even owned it for a full week yet and has already fucked it all up #womp womp!!!!!!

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dragonfly0808 · 11 months

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So my Batfamily brain rot is back (not that it ever really left) and I just had a thought like…

If you’re a henchman/criminal in Gotham, seeing your life flash past your eyes is gonna be a somewhat regular occurance but… what if like… the thing that truly made a henchman’s heart fall to his ass was when they hit Robin just a little too hard and this 10 year old kid just starts crying and goes ‘Daaaaaadddd!’

That’s the moment when they truly think they’re going to die because said dad, the kid is calling for is a 6’6 demon from hell who’s all muscle and shadows and vengance and a lot of Gotham still thinks he’s a cryptid

The henchmen all drop their guns and try to calm the kid down but it’s over in 5 seconds flat. Batman breaks several bones before speaking to Robin in the softest voice they’ve ever heard him use and the criminal world, who was already a bit hesitant to fight a kid have even more reason to take it just a little easy on Robin.

And like, I can picture different reactions with every Robin.

Like, for Dick, he’s ten and we all know he was the most violent Robin second only to Damian so maybe when he’s ten or eleven and has calmed down a little, a henchback who still remembers what a little shit he used to be decides to get back at Robin, slips on a pair of brass knuckles and BAM

And then, little Dick just stares for a moment in shock, cheek already starting to bruise, the criminals he’d been fighting all stay still because it was a nasty punch and then…

“Daaaaad!!!” He cries out in a whiny voice that reminds them that Robin really is just a kid and it all clicks into place.

Even Bruce wasn’t expecting that, Dick has just started calling him dad and he still isn’t used to being called that so to hear his kid calling for him in the moment where he is startled and hurt and a little scared… the henchmen don’t even have time to react and they wake up in the hospital with concussions and maybe a few broken bones.

It doesn’t take Dick long to calm down, it was mostly that the hit from a random henchmen really startled him and got him right in the cheekbone. But Bruce still finishes patrol early and Dick still hides under Bruce’s cape all the way to the Batmobile.

Then comes Jason and Jason was such a sweet kid, I headcannon he was the one that called Bruce dad the most often while being Robin. So one night during patrol maybe he finds himself fighting Penguin or Two-Face and it’s been a long night and he has an exam the following day and Bruce is fighting another villain at the other side of the warehouse

The point is, the henchmen and Two-Face start landing hits on eleven year old Jason in his gut and at some point he loses sight of Batman fighting on the other side of the room. Jason gets scared because he’s never really fought without Batman and while he knows that Bruce is still in the warehouse, he can’t see him and the handle of a gun hits the back of his ankle and he falls and he sees Two-Face or Penguin or one of the henchmen getting ready to grab the front of his uniform and beat him up and…

“Daaaaddd!”

The criminals freeze for a moment. They’ve heard the stories of what happened the last time a Robin called scared for dad.

They’re fucked.

They all drop their guns and try to get Jason to calm down, but he’s crying just a little bit and calls again, his voice breaking and despite having been at the other side of the warehouse just a second ago, Bruce somehow drops from the ceiling and it’s over before the criminals can keep pleading with Robin to calm down.

Jason tries to apologize for ‘acting like a baby’ but Bruce is having none of it and carries him back to the Batmobile and Jason is happy to just hide his face in Bruce’s cape because he knows his dad will always be there to save him.

Then comes Tim.

And Tim gets found out while doing reconnisance and somehow he finds himself face to face with Bane who manages to wrench away his bo staff and Tim is just eleven and he is scared because Bane doesn’t look like he’s going to hold back

All Tim knows is that the crack he hears must surely be his ribs either cracking or breaking and he can’t breath and he can only muster enough air for a single word… and he calls for his dad through tears and fear

And at this point… at this point Batman has already lost a Robin, Tim may not be his legally but he is his son just as much as Jason was

Bane spends a month in the ICU

Tim is embarrased that he reacted like that. He thinks it makes him less of a Robin to called scared for Batman… for dad.

So Bruce tells him of the other two times it happened. It’s one of the first times he’s spoken about Jason to Tim so bluntly.

Then comes Stephanie.

Stephanie never calls Bruce dad when she’s Robin. She’s not his daughter and he’s not her dad. They’re not sure what exactly they are to one another.

As far as Bruce knows, Stephanie’s version of Robin never called out to him when she was scared.

What he doesn’t know is that it did happen. Just once

It was the last time she was Robin. When Black Mask had her and she thought she was going to die

At some point while bleeding and feeling nauseous and so scared she could barely hear anything that wasn’t her own heart beating wildly against her chest… she called for dad. Not for Arthur Brown, but for Bruce

Black Mask laughed at her

Stephanie never tells Bruce

And finally… Damian

Now, we know Damian would probably never be startled enough to call for Bruce out of instinct, so I can see 2 scenarios in which this could happen.

First, he sees another kid do it. He sees a kid close to his own age laughing and playing, then tripping and staying quiet for a split second before crying out for mom and dad and he just… assumes that’s something kids do when scared and hurt and startled and does it mostly in an attempt to be a little more ‘normal’

Or, my favorite scenario… he hears of the other times it has happened. He overhears maybe Dick remind Jason of what Bruce did when Jason called out to dad as Robin. Tim maybe jokes that a Robin calling for dad is still the villains’ greatest fear

So Damian stores that knowledge away as a battle strategy just in case he ever needs it… and maybe a small part of him wants to put it to the test, to see if his father would protect him as brutally as he’s protected the Robins before him

So some random night during patrol, he’s up against several henchmen, a few of them grab him from behind, trying to hold him down. Damian is fighting against them when one of them swings a cylinder of metal that Damian thinks might’ve been meant for the plumbing and…

The henchman breaks Damian’s nose, there’s blood dripping down his chin and staining his uniform

Now… it is most certainly not the first time he’s broken something, he’s more than used to the pain, in fact, he barely feels it. However, it gives him a chance to put his little theory to the test

And so Damian allows himself to sound like the ten year old that he is and in a whiny, teary voice, goes… “Babaaaaa!” (Bonus points if it’s the first or second time he’s called Bruce baba instead of father)

What Damian didn’t take into account though, is that Batman and Robin aren’t the only ones on patrol that night. They made a big bust. The biggest part of the operation was over but they were still fighting a few stragglers. The whole fucking family is here.

And they all hear his cry.

Damian doesn’t think he’s ever seen a fight end so quickly. The henchmen only have a split-second of surprise before vanishing, being tackled or shot or having knives buried on their shoulders by his siblings.

The one that actually broke Damian’s nose is being beaten up by Nightwing, Damian doesn’t think he’s ever seen Grayson so angry.

A shadow kneels in front of him, father. Baba. He’s checking Damian and Todd is right at his side, both speaking in hushed tones, checking his injuries and wiping the tears that usually came with a broken nose.

And now… Damian is used to his father and Grayson treating him like a child, trying to be as soft as they can with him. Even Cain does it to some extent.

But… having Drake wrap an arm around him, calling him baby when knocking out one of the criminals that had hurt him ‘that’s my fucking baby brother!’ and continue to hold him later into the night on the couch, having Brown willingly give up all the snacks she keeps in her utility belt and promise to take him to Batburger the following day for milkshakes because he was ‘a champ’. And Thomas wraps his favorite blanket around Damian while they’re fixing him up.

Todd decides to stay the night at the manor. Which he never does. They all decide to spend the night at the manor when Damian still sniffles on the Batmobile and they have breakfast all of them together. Which Damian isn’t sure has ever happened before and Cain gets Alfred to make pancakes with chocolate chips instead of blueberries.

They call him baby in hushed whispers but for once, it doesn’t bother him even though it really should

But most of all, Bruce refuses to let him go for a good five minutes after he first cries for him. Smoothing down his hair and whispering that it’ll be okay and just being soft in a way Damian has never seen before.

He sleeps between his Baba and Grayson and he knows that Todd and Drake and Cain check in on them at least twice in the night for some reason.

And he realizes it’s… it’s nice. Maybe this really could be an effective battle strategy to be employed again someday.

#batman #batfam #batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batfamily headcanons #batkids #Robins

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dolene · 14 days

Text

GET BACK ON TRACK ; charles leclerc x reader

summary: after carlos's wedding announcement is everywhere and taking over your entire life, you decided to break the slump and getting back on track by moving on.

...★...

carlossainz55

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carlossainz55 Carlos & Rebecca. 5.5.25

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username fuck. yncarlos shipper we lose

username We've been losing since day one, there is no winning. Only losing 😔😔

username MY SUN????? MY MOON???? Okay what kind of torture are you guys gonna get me for this week

landonorris happy for you, mate!

yourusername Happy wedding to the beloved couple!! I wish you the best years of love and a great future together ever after 💗

username NO Y/N DON'T PRETEND

username i feel sick

danielricciardo Congratulations, and don't forget to spare the wine! 😄

alex_albon Lily and I wished you both a joyful wedding and a happy life! Don't forget about Lando, though.

username another day another cry (for y/n)

charles_leclerc Congratulations to the happy couple! Glad to be there and watch the sweet moments unveiled.

pierregasly The two of you were looking so sweet together. I hope I can make a good uncle in the future 😁🤣

carlossainz55 It's far still away from that and you're already thinking of that is insane

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username google, play no ordinary love by sade

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yourusername Rats street avenue

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username oh she's serving

sabrinacarpenter WOOHOO GOOO GIRLL

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alexconsani My name is not Alex Albon, but you know who could Thai-you-down-tnite😏

alex_albon I would never do that though 😂😅

alexconsani Understandable. if I had your girlfriend, I would never cheat on her either

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username SHE TURNED EMO 💀💀

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username No captions just a pure masterpiece

username after seeing charles liking this, my feelings said something so gossipy

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charles_leclerc 🤪🤪

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charles_leclerc added a photo to their story! · 2m

TWITTER, 10 MINUTES AFTER:

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yourusername Gossiping with my new friend

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chloe_stroll That red dressss 🫨🫨

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username girl it's over, she really going out with charles

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yourusername Feelin’ good

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username idk if i have to be happy or be depressed rn. but anyway congratulations for the HARD launch last night, enjoying it sm 💀🫶

alexconsani Ooooo Charles's gfffff

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#duhyork's artwork ৎ #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #danielle marcan #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x ex!reader

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lovifie · 3 months

Text

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 4: Midnight Snack

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

3.5K words

Warning/Notes: Soap x Reader, oral sex (m receiving), hair pulling, messy make out

This is the video from where the photo is, if you haven't seen it, You have to and if you have already, you are welcome.

The drive back to base seems neverending.

Once Price and Ghost managed to get you to stop crying and to breathe normally. The three of you pack the essentials, and by that, I mean you were hugged to Ghost like a koala while Price got what he could save from your house into a bag pack.

Most of your clothes were ripped or cut, so in the end, only some pieces of underwear, a couple of shirts, some pants and the pyjamas you were wearing were safe. Plus your jacket and shoes that were behind the door.

And that is how you found yourself now. Sobbing, sitting in the middle of the back seat, bag pack on your lap, Simon’s hand on your knee from the passenger seat as Price drives.

“Tomorrow morning, you are going to call your job, and tell them that you are going to take a couple of days off, okay?” Price asks looking at you through the rearview mirror. “And we will take everything you need, we will buy clothes, find you a better place to stay, anything you need.”

You shake your head feeling the tears come back and you hide your face behind your hands as you start to cry again. “I can't.” You cry. “What can't you do?” Simon asks turning his head to look at you.

“Miss more work days, I have already taken too many. I can't afford to lose more.” You mumble whining out of mental exhaustion.

“Hey, stop. Don't get carried away, alright?” Simon says rubbing your thigh. “Let's not think about that right now, tomorrow tell your boss the situation. Tell them that your house was broken into, that you need a couple of days to get everything in order. Depending on what your boss says, we'll work from there. Alright, birdie?”

You nod weakly as you focus on taking deep breaths. When you finally arrive, both men get out of the car and Price opens the door for you. You step out still holding your bag tight, either men try to take it from your hands and walk along between both men.

Their hands find their way to your back, Price to the bottom and Simon to the top, reassuring shielding you from the chilly breeze of the night.

“How about a cuppa?” Simon asks looking at you, a smile visible in his eyes, and you can't help it but to give him a weak smile back nodding. “Then, we will find you a room so you can sleep as much as you want.”

Sleep does sound amazing, taking into consideration that last night you had little sleep and you have been on the move ever since.

Price and Simon walk you to a lousy room, many recruits sitting together. The mess hall, you figure. In the middle of the room, there are a couple of sofas, and you quickly recognise Soap and Gaz, sprawled together in one of them looking at Gaz's phone.

Most of the soldiers that are finishing their dinner, or just enjoying each other company before going to bed look up when they hear the door opening. Their gazes linger for a second too long on you until you can feel Ghost throwing them a warning sign in the form of a look and they peel their eyes away.

Gaz and Soap look up when they hear the door open, and just for a second, they smile at you before they furrow their browns when they see everyone's expression.

“What happened? How come the wee lass so spooked?” Soap asks sitting straight and patting the seat between him and Kyle.

Price’s hand on your lower back softly pushes you forward to sit down before he answers: “She’s still a bit in shock, Soap. We’ll talk about it later.”

You sit down between Soap and Gaz, backpack still in your hands, and pull your knees up hugging your legs. Gaz points to your backpack and asks: “You sleeping over tonight? You should definitely sleep in Soap’s and my room. Ghost and Price have their own individual ones, but they snore.” He whispers the last part pulling a little smile from you.

You lean your head on Soap's shoulder when he lays his arm on the couch behind your back. The man is a living furnace and shortly after you find yourself seeking more contact.

Price sits on the second sofa in front of you and just a second later Ghost appears back, cup of tea on hand, as he gives it to you. You take it from his hands, yours still shaking just a little bit as you do, and you rest it on top of your knee for support.

Kyle's hand find its way to your other knee giving it a light squeeze. “How's your arm, luv?” You look at your elbow and shrug your shoulder. “I haven't even had time to check it, good I think, it hasn't bothered me.”

“You didn't get hurt today, did you?” Price asks focusing on your face after doing a quick check-up of you. You shake your head: “No, a headbutt on the ceiling if anything.”

Price nods, satisfied with your answer and shakes his head at the sergeant's questioning look. You look down to the tea, thoughts getting to you. You saw your neighbour get arrested, and if he had gotten free they would have told you. So it must have been someone who works for them, and if he wasn't arrested already is because they didn't really know who works for them.

“What are you thinking about, birdie?” Ghost brings you back to reality with just a question. “Am I safe here?” You ask, with a shake in your voice.

“Yes.” Price's answer is concise, full of trust in his own word, leaving no room for doubt. “As long as you are with us, nothing and nobody is getting to you.”

You look at his face, almost as if expecting him to burst laughing at you for trusting them. A voice in your head screams at you not to do it, you barely know them. But you thought you knew your neighbour and now he's trying to kill you, so.

You nod and take a sip of the tea. Warming you inside and letting you relax just a bit.

“How about a distraction?” Soap asks smiling at you. “Have we told ye aboot the time Gaz fell from a helo and was hangin’ from a rope like a yo-yo?”

“Fucking hell, Johnny. Shut up!” Gaz complains laughing next to you.

The time went a bit more smoothly when Soap decided to talk about everyone's embarrassing stories, you could still tell he wasn't telling everything, keeping the classified information for himself, but still telling enough to have you laughing, gasping and asking with interest as he told.

By the time you finished your tea, you were already in a greater mood, the attack from today moved to the back of your head. Price lends you a hand to help you stand up while Ghost takes the empty cup from you. Gaz and Soap keep their word to share the room for the night against Price and Ghost's complaint that they should let you rest alone. Until the words “I don't really want to be alone.” leave your mouth and that's the end of the bickering.

Soap and Gaz barracks are quite simple, two single beds against opposite walls, two desks, two little bookshelves and two closets. Almost as if there was a mirror in the middle of the room if it wasn't for the little trinkets and details on each side letting you know the right bed was Soap's and the one on the left was Gaz's.

After a quick rock, paper, scissor championship, it is decided you will be sharing Soap's bed. And since you are already in your pyjamas, you get inside the bed quickly, ready to be done with the day. Soap lays behind you, hugging your middle and dropping a kiss to your temple. “Sleep tight, bonnie.”

A ray of light erupts from the bathroom door that is practically closed, almost as if whoever closed was afraid the click of the door closing would wake you up. At first, you don't think most of it, Soap must have gotten up to pee. But then you listen, and it doesn't sound like that's what he is doing in the bathroom.

Little grunts can be heard as well as the sound of skin hitting skin. You stand up from the bed, curiosity taking control of your body and walking you to peak at the door. You shouldn't, you really shouldn't. But once you lay your eyes on him, you know you are fucked.

Soap is barechested, leaning against the sink with a hand supporting him while the other strokes his dick. He has his eyes closed, head low with his mouth open slightly, and small grunts and whines leave his lips.

The grey sweatpants slightly lowered, allowing you to see the curve of his lower back as well as what you trust is the girthiest dick you have ever laid your eyes onto. The tip looks red, hungry for release, pearls of precum dripping from it making your mouth water.

There is a turmoil of thoughts in your head, you keep repeating to yourself that you need to place some distance between yourself and these men. But the moment any of them show any skin or any emotion of want towards you, you throw yourself at them.

Three times have you gone through this, your mind telling you is a bad idea and your pussy pushing you at their arms. This time is not different, and before you know it, you are inside the bathroom locking the door making Soap jump.

“Steamin’ jesus, bonnie.” He says shoving his dick inside his pants and turning his back at you to hide his tent. “Knock before entering, lass.”

“Sorry.” You mutter, not feeling sorry and you slowly walk to him. “I just wanted to help…”

“What? What you me-” He gets cut mid-question when he feels your hand grazing his tip, pressing your chest to his back and surrounding his waist with your arm. You use a hand to feel his abdomen and the other to softly caress the length of his dick inside his pants.

“But I can go back to bed if you don't want…” You say looking at the back of his head. “Don't you dare.” He answers grabbing your wrist when you try to take it back and he looks at you over his shoulder.

“Ye dinnae have to do it if ye dinnae want… but if you want, I'll take anythin’ ye throw at me, bonnie.” He says turning around and cupping your face after lowering his pants again to free his erection. “I had to run to the bathroom cause ye were rubbing yer arse against me on yer sleep, I was about to explode.”

“Well then, I think it's only fair I fix it, right?” You ask looking at him cheekly. He leans down and kisses you smiling into the kiss. Little groans slide into your mouth as you stroke him and you can feel his hips thrust softly into your hand as well.

For the last two days these men have only but given to you, and as much as you have enjoyed every single second of it, it is about time you give back.

You pick Soap's hand from your cheek and push it up to your hair. “Make sure to keep my hair away from my face, all right?”

He looks at you confused but quickly gets the idea when you kneel before him. He quickly brushes your hair back with his finger, doing a ponytail at the back of your head and groans deeply when you give a kitty lick to his tip.

You pop his tip inside your mouth sucking softly as you circle it with your tongue. Stroke the rest with both your hands, unable to reach your thumb with your index because of the girth and slowly bobbing your head up and down.

Soap stays mumbling curse words under his breath, low enough to not be able to hear him and you wish you were not hiding in the bathroom and could hear him scream. You think back to when Price ate you out, did he get as turn-on satisfying you as you are getting doing it to Soap?

He opens his eyes to lock into yours and you look up to him through your lashes as you start to get more inside your mouth.

“Fokin’ hell, bonnie. Keep looking at me like that and I'm not gonna last a second.” He says struggling to keep his eyes open.

You chuckle inside your head, and keep getting closer and closer to his hipbone. You must praise Soap's self-commitment to not cum, even though you can feel the grip on your hair getting tighter. When you feel his pubes brush against your nose you pull back taking a breath and look at him. When you lock eyes with each other, you smile and say before opening your mouth: “Fuck my throat, Johnny.”

For a second you get scared that Soap will just cum as you speak when you physically see the shudder that goes through him. But then he grips your hair back making you look up to him and he kisses your mouth in a sloppy kiss. Spit, drool and precum all mixing between your tongues and when he draws back to talk a threat of spit connect your lips. “You are going to fucking kill me, lass.” He mumbles and stands up to full height.

He doesn't let go of your hair and when you stick your tongue out he slaps it with his cock. “Gonna fuck yer throat raw, bonnie. Bite if it gets too much.” He smirks before shoving his dick down your throat in a single thrust and beginning to fulfil his word.

“Fuck, bonnie.” He says slurring his words between moans. “Taking my cock so well, such a good fucking lass, so, so good, fuck.”

Your visions get blurry with the tears from fighting your gag reflex, your hands rest on Soap's thighs and you can feel them flex with each thrust. If it wasn't for your pants you know you would be literally dripping on the floor, never did you though it could turn you on this much. But seeing Soap becoming such a mess, not being even able to speak, just mumbles and curses leaving his mouth.

“Let me cum inside, bonnie, please. I wanna see you drink it, please, please, bonnie, please.” He begs looking at your face with a pained expression, and almost as if he was waiting for your answer when you slightly nod he grunts and you feel his spent travel down your throat. He stays like that for another second and finally pulls out, you open your mouth showing him your work and he smiles as he bends down to kiss you again. “Fucking beautiful, love.”

The next morning you are woken up by an alarm and just a second later a door slamming shut. “I call dibs on the bathroom!” Kyle shouts making you jump.

You turn around on Soap's arms, nuzzling your face on his chest and sighing satisfied. “Eejit” Soap mumbles with his chin resting on top of your head.

“Do we have to share the bathroom the three of us?” You ask against his chest.

“Ye didnae seem to mind sharing it with me last night.” He mumbles back and you feel his chest tumble with a laugh.

“Aw, shut up, Johnny.” You say chuckling and yawning. “What time is it, anyway? I feel like I slept just two hours.”

“0540, not too far off to be honest.” He answers and when your half-sleep brain processes what time it is you look at him as if he has just insulted you. “What?”

“Why the fuck are we up before 6 in the morning? Like, seriously, the fuck?” You ask grumpy as you sit up pulling your legs over Soap's torso. He caresses one of your calves and flexes his arm resting his head on his hand. If you were not so bothered to be awakened so early, you would admire his physique.

“This is the military, love.” He says smiling. “Ye look like an angry kitty.”

You pull the pillow from under his head and hit him with it making him laugh. “Do we need to be ready before six?”

“Yeah, actually, that's when we are supposed to have breakfast. We are meeting Lt. and Price there.” He says taking the pillow from his face. “Ye should get dressed.”

You groan standing up and picking your bag from the side of the bed. You pull your clothes out, and notice that you can barely form a full outfit; you sigh and sit on the floor looking at Soap who is now on his side, elbow on the bed and head resting on his hand. He looks at you with a confused expression and says: “That's all ye packed, lassie? I thought ye were staying more time.”

He stands up, walks to his closet and picks something from inside just to throw it to your head. An uf sound leaves your throat and you pick it up to see it, it is a sweatshirt with MacTavish written on the back. “It is cold this early in the morning, we don't want ye freezing up. Get dressed.”

He bends down to drop a kiss on your lips leaving you a bit stunned and enters the bathroom without knocking making Gaz protest from the inside. “Stop screaming, it's me. I'm just giving the wee lass some privacy, Gaz.”

You chuckle to yourself and quickly get dressed, putting on the only pair of jeans you have, and a weird t-shirt from some kind of ad you used to wear to sleep, feeling really grateful it is covered with Soap's sweatshirt.

“What are you doing here, luv?” Price asks standing up when he sees you enter the mess hall following Soap and Gaz. “Everything alright?”

The expression on your face must be portrait-worth because you can see even Simon's eyes twirl with a smile.

“What do you mean what I'm doing here?” You ask looking at Price, until you hear a little snickering coming from both Gaz and Soap and you finally put two and two together. You turn to Soap and when you finally make eye contact with him, he burst out laughing.

“I'm sorry, bonnie. It was just too perfect of an opportunity to waste it.” He says raising his hand in false innocence. He tries to side-hug you, but you move quickly raising your chin offended and walking up to Price. “I'll fetch ye breakfast as a peace offering, all right, love?”

“That's the minimum you can do!” You exclaim still offended and stick your tongue out to him as you sit between where Ghost is sitting and where Price was sitting, him following you.

“Sorry about that, love.” Price says rubbing your tight. “I told them muppets to let you sleep in today. Did you at rest good?”

Gaz sits in front of you with a smirk, and you don't know if he knows, but you are sure that if he does he will snitch on you so stay on edge making sure not to break eye contact with him.

“Yeah, I did. The bed was surprisingly comforting, and Soap was a weighted blanket so.” You answer still looking at Gaz. You can feel Price's questioning look and Ghost's smirk.

“So Soap was comfortable?” Gaz asks smiling.

“Yeah, quite comfortable.” You answer.

He knows.

He fucking knows.

You don't know how, but he knows.

“Is that why you followed him to the bathroom when he went in the middle of the night?” He asks.

Fucking Garrick.

“I don't know what you are talking about.” You respond looking at your nails.

“I'm talking about when you into the bathroom and helped-”

CLANK

Soap puts the tray of food in front of you just in time, cutting Gaz's claim and starts to enunciate the food he bought. “I got ye coffee cause it's obvious yer not a morning person, I brought ye toast, some fruits and a little cereal cause I didn't really know what ye wanted. And I bought ye chocolate pudding.” He says putting the little cup on your hands, giving you a kiss on your head. “For sucking my dick so good last night.”

Gaz bursts out laughing, happy that he didn't even need to tell anything, while Ghost chuckles under his breath and Price sighs rubbing his forehead.

“I think there is a conversation that we definitely need to have.” Price announces. “For everyone's sake.”

Hiii 💗

Hope you liked the new chapter, please please drop a comment if you like it or if there is any scenarios you would like me to include 💗

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yu-huuuu · 8 months

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𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶;; 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦

[ 🌸 ] uchiha version

characters: itachi uchiha; obito uchiha; madara uchiha; sasuke uchiha; shisui uchiha

genre: fluff

warnings: none, fem!reader

- - -

itachi uchiha

*cute boy *against all odds, his interest in you did not begin at the academy. *actually, you and him weren't even in the same class, lmao- it all started on a mission. *he didn't even turn to look at you when the hokage told him that you would be on his team lie, he did- he even turned to look at you twice

*things got a little crazy in the mission, and suddenly your team was surrounded by enemy ninjas. Quickly, four of your group members were injured, and itachi was starting to wear out. He had really forgotten about you

*and it is just at that moment that you manage to reach him after putting your injured companions in a safe place

*my boy let out the air that he had been holding after he realized that you were fine and that he was not alone in this, haha

*after the fight and reaching Konoha successfully, and after checking that the injured were okay and giving the report to the hokage he approached you

A quiet, yet soft voice spoke to you from behind you, "… I wanted to thank you for earlier"

*you smiled tenderly at his grateful words, assuring him that there was nothing to be thankful for

*obviously, you weren't aware of the little jump that Itachi's heart gave when he saw your pretty smile.

*the poor kid froze before mentally beating himself up to compose himself.

*just as you were leaving, he stopped you

“…would you like to go out some day?”

"huh?"

*although several months have passed, he will never admit his attraction to you, at least not for now.

*but you can rest easy… It won't take that long until Shisui or his mother encourage him to court you when they realize that he is feeling things for his pretty teammate.

"What's wrong? Is the whiz boy afraid of a pretty girl?" //proceeds to poke him in succession with his finger// “huh? huh? huh-?”

“Shisui… you have 5 seconds to run, and two have already passed”

- - -

obito uchiha

*obito swore that he would not fall in love again after what happened with rin *but it happens that nothing goes as he wants *especially after you walked through that door of the akatsuki hideout with your stupid and pretty smile *he found himself looking for you after that meeting under the pretext that he didn't trust you for being the new girl lying boy, he just wanted to see your smile *on the other hand you were beginning to feel harassed by the awkward boy with the orange mask *your partner and his friend-rival realized that

"but senpaaaaaaaaai-"

"tobi stop pestering!"

"but tobi just want to see how the new girl is doing!"

"i swear to God and everything beautiful in this world-!"

"…can I turn him into a puppet?"

"guys…"

*they pretend that they are not interested if something happens to you, or that tobi does something to you they are a couple of liars

*but you can be sure of something- obito will never tell you who he is

*although if you want something with him, you will have to go for it, girl.

*he won't accept how he feels about you unless you make him see it, lmao

*although he will protect you feverishly even if both of you are not something

*imagine that you are on a mission with Tobi, and suddenly you come across something that could put you in danger

*oh yeah, just ignores tobi's mood swing and strange aura while he deals with the bad guys

*don't worry, he will be your shadow, although you will never know it.

- - -

madara uchiha

*this intimidating man is a joke, pfff- don't look at me like that

*the man is a 10/10 when it comes to talking about politics

*but he's a 0/10 when it comes to confronting you, lmao

*you're not even from his clan to begin with, and his father only taught him to woo women from his clan, not outside women from the uchiha clan tend to expect certain behaviors when expecting to be courted

*anyway

*he started to fall in love when he saw your pretty eyes when you looked directly at him without any fear or shame

*he's not going to lie; it made him nervous

*because since his sharingan woke up, no woman dared to look him in the eye in the same way that you did, oh

*you make his stomach feel light and his mind spin

*and don't make me start with his face, which looks flushed and the fact that it feels very hot

*the man thinks you're some kind of magician or something, lmao

*because, my God, how is this event possible?

*The great madara uchiha in love? What a lie

*anyway

*do you have patience? good, you will need it to wait for the man to gain confidence

*because he may be confident and headstrong when it comes to the battlefield, but he's a cinnamon bun who doesn't know how to pose for the audience when it comes to the dreaded ✨romance✨

“come on, big brother… you can do it!”

"wait…- no izuna!"

"hey Y/N, my brother wants to ask you something!"

"izuna-!"

*God, please help him

- - -

sasuke uchiha

*a disaster

*a complete disaster

*he can handle hate, you know?

*but he can't handle these beautiful emotions and sensations, oww

*make his stomach flutter and his legs shake unnaturally

*he's already a teenager, he thinks… he's too mature for this, he thinks!

*poor guy

*if he only knew

*anyway

*try to avoid you

*like, if you're on his "renamed team every chapter" he'll just ignore your existence

*He won't be rude, though!

*it will be more like a "good morning" in the morning and a "good night" at night, and that's it

*those will be your only interactions 💀

*ah, but don't let him see you in danger, he'll run to where you are without hesitation, pfff

*in the end, everything stops thanks to the intervention of Suigetsu and Jugo who couldn't stand the two of them

*somehow they manage to make sasuke bring up his feelings for you

*so they decide to help him at the end of the day with motivating words

"you just have to talk to her"

//jūgo nods//

"you shouldn't be afraid of her, she won't bite you"

//jūgo nods//

"don't tell me that the great sasuke uchiha is afraid of a girl-"

"…suigetsu shut up"

//jūgo nods again he can't decide who to support//

*in the end, he's just a soft guy who doesn't know what to do at the end of the day

- - -

shisui uchiha

*you were his cousin's classmate, and somehow you managed to be friends with itachi

*and one day he finally met you

*shisui takes everything with humor, you know?

*he is a fun person who likes to enjoy little things

*like, he's the guy who's always in a good mood

*but when you're around him, his mind goes blank

*his funniest jokes suddenly forget, or he doesn't know how to explain them from one moment to another, and suddenly they are not funny anymore, they are embarrassing 💀 even itachi makes a subtle grimace on his stupid stoic face that he charges whenever he opens his mouth to deliver a “joke”

*he doesn't know what to do or how to react

*and for some reason, he stutters a lot when he tries to explain his joke again

*itachi is there luckily to comfort him at the end of the day, but: "no, itachi- don't give me love advice when you haven't even had a girlfriend!"

*somehow he will overcome this historic moment in his life and be able to woo you properly

*when? Uhh… someday, I don't know, I'm not psychic-

"You just have to talk to her-"

“You say that like it's easy, itachi!"

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto scenarios #itachi x reader #shisui x reader #madara x reader #sasuke x reader #obito x reader #itachi uchiha #obito uchiha #sasuke uchiha #madara uchiha #itachi headcanons #obito headcanons

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gay-dorito-dust · 27 days

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How high on the clingy/protective scale these boys are …

Dick: a solid 8.5/10.

A very clingy bean.

Dick would be attached to your hip 24/7 if he could but he couldn’t answer that makes him sad.

In the wise words of @obsessedwithromance on one of my recent posts; ‘if Dick was a dog, he’d be a husky.’

And he’d make a very vocal husky at that with how often he whines and whinges whenever you tried to move from his grasp, acting as though every attempt in removing yourself from his arms were an attack against his character. So he will take personal offence to you wanting to leave him out in the cold and desolate place that was your bedroom. 💀

‘Stop trying to get out of my arms.’ He moans, tightening his hold on you as he buried his head into your neck, locking legs with you for extra measure. ‘Dick, I love you but you’re being too clingy for me right now.’ You reply and had just noticed the error of your ways almost immediately and were about to explain yourself but it was already too late, for you had set Dick the human husky off.

‘Me? Clingy? I thought you liked it when I was clingy? Why the sudden change? What did I do wrong? Why don’t you love me?’ Dick began his tirade and you could only lay there and let him talk your ear off -and loudly might I add- about how you apparently didn’t love him enough, which was a bunch of bullshit, but dick was too in his feelings to listen to reason. You’ll have to kiss him to shut him up, there’s no other option.

So once he’s settled down, he’ll go back to cuddling against your back,smiling dopily while you could only congratulate for a job well done at defusing the situation form getting any worse. You love your dramatic human husky and you wouldn’t change anything for anyone.

Jason: 7.5/10 or a 8/10.

The only time you’re seeing this man be clingy as all hell if he’s in a particular mood and want your affection, which might as well be all the time with this man, or after a not so great nightmare.

He would wake up in a cold sweat and immediately look for you and hold you against his chest as though you were his personal teddy bear, only just until his breathing evens out and not so tense in the muscles. Until then he holds onto you tightly and familiarises himself with you in anyway that he could, whether that be counting your eyelashes, noting the different shades that make up your eyes and much more.

At least just enough to help him gain some sense of self and awareness that he was safe and sound from all harm.

Like Jaime, Jason would watch over you like a hawk as Red Hood without a shadow of a doubt, and Jason has his reasons to do so as he knows the type of people who litter the streets of Gotham at night like the back of his hand. He doesn’t want to subject you to that sort of life of constant fear of having to look over your shoulder in hopes that there wasn’t someone following you home.

For in his minds eye, he’s your sole protector and the one thing that stands between the scumbags of the street and you. Jason doesn’t take this position he’s given himself lightly, it’s unlike him to anyway, as your safety is his top priority and he’d do anything to obtain it; whether they way it’s obtained was morally questionable or not, he doesn’t care for as long as your safe, he’ll live to learn with having permanent blood on his hands.

Damian: 5/10 on a good day. 2/10 in general.

He’s not an overly clingy person. Protective? yes. Clingy? No. It’s just not in just nature and he can be very awkward going about it too.

Damian knows he doesn’t have to constantly survey you 24/7, he has more faith in you and your abilities then most. He knows that you won’t call upon him if at all when faced with a situation that you could easily resolve yourself.

However if you were to get hurt on his watch or otherwise, that’s when he gets slightly clingy and will attempt to be within any space with you possible. Damian shows care in a completely different way than most and will more or less act like a guard dog when it came to you.

This little dude will point his sword at anyone that comes into close contact with you while glaring at them, meanwhile you’re having to push the blade of his sword down and away from the poor victim, only for Damian to raise his sword back towards their throat once more.

‘Pack it in.’ You’d hiss.

‘No. You’re practically useless when hurt, so let me deal with this one.’ Damian said.

You purposely ignored the fact that he had just called you useless and instead pushed the blade of his sword down until it was pointing at the floor again. ‘He’s not even a threat, just a regular citizen. So you can stop it with the fear attics now.’ You told him in a hushed tone. Damian meets your eyes with a glare of his own. ‘How you can be certain he’s a harmless civilian? What if he’s a low life thug of an underground drug syndicate on the rise? You can’t allow yourself to trust every face you meet.’ He replies, not one to back down for anyone, not even you.

You sigh as you rubbed the sides of your head. ‘Well at least try not to cause more issue for your dad. I swear between you, Jason, Tim and Dick I don’t know who gives him the most grey hairs.’

Jaime: runner up for Dick’s crown with also a 8.5/10

He’s clingy in a sense that he fears of loosing you constantly.

Khaji-Da doesn’t make the situation any better as it only encourages Jaime’s Innate clinginess tenfold, and now Jaime can’t go a couple of minutes without offering to join you on wherever your going.

He just cares about you very deeply and wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he’d ever lost you despite having the ability to stop any harm from coming your way. So needless to say that you spend most of your time with him and his family is a severe understatement.

It’s not as though he doesn’t trust you, he wholeheartedly does, but that trust doesn’t extend to potential outside threats. Hell, he would even go as far as to watch over you as Blue Beatle, much to the behest of literally everyone that isn’t Khaji-Da because the scarab is just as clingy over you in a sense that you were Jaime’s mate and there for should be within close proximity to him at all times.

It’s endearing but I think it’s about time you told Kahji-Da to cool it on the whole threatening people you talked to with plans to eliminate them…

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 7 days

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Shivers - Max Verstappen

Summary: Max's girlfriend is always cold unless bundled up in 5 layers (sometimes with a hot water bottle wedged between the layers), lying on a hot beach minimum of 30 degrees(c) or Max's top choice when she tries to latch onto him.

The gif isn't relevant to the story, but it is important to me for reasons it feels inappropriate to share 🥵

ANYWAY, this is for the cold girlies who know the struggle of never being warm (it's me, I hate it. Literally waited to exit the womb 10 days late purely to be born on the hottest day of the year 😉)

No part 2 requests please

Wet races at a form of torture for y/n and with Spa being famous for it's wet weather. Even if it's not really that cold, it's definitely not a place she wants to be.

"Are you sure this is enough?" Max asks as he zips up her jacket as the final layer making her smile and nod. "Are you really sure?"

"You've already got a hot water bottle between the second and third layer. I promise I'm definitely warm." Y/n nods though they both know as soon as she steps outside she'll be shivering. It's actually like there's something wrong with her but really she's just naturally in need of constant warmth.

Admittedly 5 layers is not exactly the wisest for stability and balance but y/n manages to shuffle following Max out the hotel and to the awaiting car where he does lift her up into the car before moving around to the other side.

Max always makes sure the car is well and truly heated before they get in it so she doesn't have to worry about being cold because of the car.

When they walk through the paddock, Max and y/n do end up in conversation with Daniel who looks at y/n and offers her a hug since the world is aware of her inability to maintain any body heat.

"You're shaking a little." Daniel comments with a pout in pity for her while rubbing her back while Max frowns.

"I hate rain." Y/n mumbles before sighing when she's released and pouts looking at Max.

"I'll see you later, mate." Max smiles with a small laugh, wanting to get y/n inside for more warmth.

"No problem, bye y/n." Daniel smiles waving at y/n.

"Bye, Daniel." Y/n smiles returning the gesture.

Usually Max prefers to just go home and spend time with the cats and on the simulator. But every so often, especially when he knows it's not going to be the warmest weather in Monaco. Since it's the summer break, they've got plenty of time for him to be on the sim and hidden away in Monaco.

So they're away in Hawaii.

Their villa seems to come with a slightly more private bit of beach which gives Max the privacy he's always hoping for.

"You look warm." Max smiles as he finds y/n sitting very much in the heat of the sun.

He's really let her relish but the nurturing side of him can't help but need to apply and reapply sunscreen on her to make sure there's no sun damage since he knows she still cares about the health of her skin.

"I am...you brought me food?" Y/n gasps with a smile.

Max places the tray of food down in front of her since he knows it's been a while since either of them ate so when he went inside to use the toilet, he also decided to grab them some snacks.

Seeing y/n thrive in the heat and sun is actually a very comforting sight. The glow around her in the sun is just something that he doesn't get to see nearly as often as he'd like. She always struggles so much in the ever-changing weather that they face in Europe but just being in the warmth in Hawaii in the depth of summer is really a perfect and y/n is so happy it makes the travel worth every second.

Especially since whenever y/n is happy, so is Max.

Not to mention seeing her body so completely exposed is never a sight that Max wants denied from himself, but usually he does only get to see her completely naked in the shower, bath, getting changed or during sex and even then sometimes she manages to keep a t-shirt on just as a layer of warmth.

With that in mind, before applying the new layer of spf, he leans forward and kisses as much surface area of her skin while he can.

"Maxie." Y/n laughs not quite used to being ravished by such physical attention, especially not out in the open for the rest of the world to see. Though admittedly, Max never actually shies away from physical affection so maybe she shouldn't be so surprised by it.

Max staying up late with his e-racing team isn't uncommon when they're home. Y/n tends to try and keep herself busy during those hours, allowing him to sleep. On this occasion she decided to restock the house with plenty of food, especially for the cats since Max gets them the best food they can buy in store, along with buying extra stuff online.

But she definitely was deceived by the sun, because it's certainly not as warm as she would've liked so after making the quickest possible job of unpacking the food. She tip-toes to the dark bedroom, her body a shadow as she strips down, hating the cold air wrapping around her body before she lifts the blanket and eases herself down onto the bed.

"Y/n?" Max mumbles as she feels his body heat practically burn her in comparison to his body.

"Sorry." Y/n whispers hoping not to disturb him anymore than she already has.

Max doesn't even need to guess as to why she's climbing back into bed with him, all he does is shift and move till her cooler body is lying underneath his own.

He has to smile a little at the feeling of her skin against his own as they lie together.

"Talk to me." Max mumbles knowing she won't fall asleep till she's completely warmed up and even with him lying on top of her like a bear, and if there's one thing he loves, it's hearing her voice. So getting her to talk is definitely something that will add to this moment.

Y/n tells him about shopping and how she spent the morning, including buying them both some expensive cake purely motivated by the fact it looks so good that she passed it 5 times before caving into the urge.

"You're so pretty, you know that?" Y/n whispers suddenly and while Max doesn't quite have the energy to open his eyes, she feels his smile before he turns his head just enough to kiss her skin as she runs her hands through his hair. "I love you."

"I love you too." Max hums noticing the weight of sleep beginning to appear in her voice.

It's not long before they've both dropped off from being awake, Max still exhausted from his late night and y/n successfully lulled back to sleep from the heat of his body. They'll probably spend the whole day like that if they go undisturbed.

Max is more than happy to waste a day cuddling with his girlfriend and y/n is more than happy to waste the day completely smothered under Max's body. It's not like they get that many days to spend like this, so on the rare occasion it's certainly not going to be something they deny themselves from enjoying.

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pickingupmymercedes · 2 months

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Ways to say "I love you" - Lewis Hamilton

I'm back with more Lew ❤️

warnings: mostly fluff, bit of angsty

wordcount: +3k

important: each drabble was writen as a snippet into different moments with Lewis. There's 10 more of those, but this was getting huge, so this is part 1.

With a hoarse voice, under the blankets

Life had been hectic, as it tended to be around the weeks before the final couple of races. You and Lewis had been on the road since mid October, not really going back to Europe since the US GP in Texas. The week off between São Paulo and Las Vegas the perfect opportunity to take a few days off in California with his friends. It was tiring, but you’d never complain of having a full passport as a down feature for your job.

The week of the Las Vegas GP was packed of events and promo for everyone, and to top it off a quick impromptu meeting with the board in the media day of the GP turned into a 5 hours long debate, that went well into the night.

You got back to your suite almost at midnight in serious need of a shower and some sleep. What you didn’t predict was Lewis already tucked into the bed, sound asleep.

You tiptoed around the room to try and find your things, not being lucky in the slightest you settled for a shirt Lewis had used in the road trip from LA to Vegas. The quick shower, only meant to decompress, had you engulfed in Lewis’ perfume, from both his shower products and shirt.

Lewis soft breathing guided you to the bed in the darkness of the room and when you got under the soft covers a pair of arms guided you to his chest, the one place sure to get you blacked out in minutes.

“They're in serious trouble for keeping you for so long” his horse voice an indication he had been in deep sleep already

“Sorry, took longer than we expected”

“Can’t wait to have you all to myself. Gonna have to lock you up at home during winter”

“No need, I’ll always find my way to you”. You mumbled into his neck, already nestling closer to him, ready to drift off.

A scream

“I love you” You screamed when you realized you’d never catch him, mid airport track, hoping the wind would somehow carry your words. His head turned abruptly, his face had confusion written all over his features, he was stuck in place, too stunned to comprehend the sudden confession you were hollering to the world but couldn’t say aloud to him just hours ago. You ran to him, security, people and restrictions be damned, that was your one chance.

“I love you, Lewis. I have loved you for longer than I care to admit, I have not stopped loving you even when I said I didn’t, even when hating you was all I wanted.” within arm’s reach you admitted breathlessly, doe eyes looking at you with such intensity you were sure he could see into your soul. His hands cautiously outstretching towards yours, waiting for you to take it, waiting for your mind to catch up to the feelings you had just admitted, waiting to see if you’d finally let your heart take over.

You didn’t take his hand though, going instead for the back of his neck, caressing the soft skin at the base of his hairline with your fingers, his overwhelming gaze waiting for your next move, for you to fully give in, looking from his eyes to his mouth until his scent and his touch were all that you felt. His hold on the lower of your back, the brush of his eyelashes on your cheeks and his taste on your lips were all you could ever want. The decision of a lifetime, one that after that day you would make every day, over and over.

On a random Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair

The thing with Lewis was he was too much of an Capricorn for his own good, the earth in him urged for stability and trust, and in the familiarity and serenity of home he urged for security, not that he wanted a predictable life, but he wished that no matter what, he had someone he could fall back on.

“Move in with me” He blurred out of nowhere causing you to lightly laugh at him, scotching closer to his chest as if there was any space left between you, both laying comfortably tangled in each other in his house in London. Pillows and blankets around you on the floor, the late afternoon sunlight hitting the glass on the dining table and reflecting up at the ceiling, a movie on the tv neither were paying attention to.

“I mean it. I don’t see myself without you, I don’t want to anyway.” he almost whispered in your ears, the low volume to his voice amplifying the seriousness in his proposal. Turning your head to look at him you held your gaze into his for minutes, almost daring him to call off the offer, but he never did. His warm smile spreading onto his features when you crocked your head and smirked, specks of the late sunlight glowing where they hit your hair.

“I’d love to” you murmured, straddling him and pushing his chest so he’d lay back down on the blankets, hovering your face over his, leaving ghostly soft kisses on his lips, coming back up to look him in the eye, time and time again. Convincing yourself that it was okay to finally let your walls down for good.

“I love you; you know?!” a statement so surely presented to your, so pure. He didn’t wait to hear it back before pulling your to his chest and his lips, he didn’t have to.

When baking chocolate chip cookies

“We’re baking chocolate chip cookies!” You exclaimed as you entered his home gym in London mid-winter break, supplies in hand already anticipating half of the ingredients wouldn’t exist in his fridge.

“Excuse me?” He questioned as he set the weights down and reached for the towel to get the sweat dry from his forehead

“C’mom, vegan chocolate chip cookies” you rushedly told him already half way back inside, leaving a confused Lewis searching for any meaning to what had just happened.

As he approached his kitchen, he could hear the soft music playing in the speakers in the background while you danced around arranging the things you’d need.

“Care to explain, love?” He leaned at the stool just under the glistening spotlight and the couple of trays spread at the kitchen island.

“Your niece and nephew are coming over tomorrow” She retorted, almost a duh expression on her features as she chopped the vegan chocolate bar.

“Y/n, they know I’m preparing for the season” He lovingly replied, getting closer to you.

“Oh, they’re not exactly for you, Lew. I mean, they’re still vegan if you want to try them.” You turned into his embrace, leaving a kiss to the corner of his lips before wiggling back to where the many food items were.

“You show up at my house midafternoon, fully stacked, to bake vegan cookies for kids that aren’t coming until tomorrow and don’t really expect to eat anything but fruits ?!” He crocked his head, smirk fully on display as his eyes gleamed.

“That’s like half the reason I came. Apples and bananas are fine, but they are kids.” You shrugged as that was the most obvious thing.

“We’re really baking cookies then, I guess?!” He reached to you and grabbed the flour off of your hand, pouring it into a bowl.

“Chocolate chip cookies” You corrected him, laughing as he stole a few of the chopped chocolates still sitting on the chopping board

Not said to me

You jolted up from your sleep when you heard a loud cry, frantically looking around the room you remembered you weren’t home when your eyes found the luggage in the corner, yours and Lewis’s belongings neatly tucked in the adjoining closet, a stark contrast to the baby clothes and toys scattered around the floor and armchairs. Slowly coming to your senses, you realized the crying was in your dreams when you heard a happy babble, followed by your husband’s low voice coming from the balcony of the hotel room.

“Sshh love, we don’t want to wake mamma up now do we? She’s taking a nap so we can go for a walk down the beach later.” The little girl instantly responding with a babble at the word she knew all too well.

Getting up you didn’t have the heart to interrupt the scene that played out when you peaked from the opened French doors of the room, deciding to quietly watch from the threshold as he kept blowing raspberries onto your daughter’s tummy, the chunky toddler in nothing but her diapers, in the hot afternoon summer breeze of Italy in July, excitedly clapping her hands for her dad while sitting on his legs.

“Oh, I miss her too baby, even when she’s just in the other room… I’ll tell you a secret though, even if momma tells the world we’re twins, every time I see your eyes, I see hers, the same one I’ve been in love with for a long time. Everyone says you are my hard carbon copy, but I love that I get to look into a piece of your mommy whenever I look at you".

When we lay together by the sun

The sun in your skin felt divine, a stark contrast to the wintery end of year you’d been having back in Europe, the heat and humidity in the air bringing to your senses the familiarity of northeast Brazilian weather in the hottest months of the year. His touch on your shoulder blades providing even more warmth, big hands massaging your whole back with sunscreen.

“By all means I’m the biggest fan of your back massages, but I put on sunscreen just a couple of hours ago” you giggled looking at him over your shoulders, sunglasses on the tip of your nose.

“Just making sure you’re protected, will you do mine?” He asked after tying the strings on the upper part of your bikini and giving your bum a checky light smack.

“Yeah… come here you Briton” grabbing him by the arms you sat up on the lounger and guided him to sit in between in your legs, his back already hot from the sun exposure.

“Thank you for coming here with me, I know we made it a 4 times header not going home to rest for a bit after Mexico.” You told him while spreading the white content of the Brazilian sunscreen you’d bought, throwing away the british one, not properly suited to sun in the tropics from your past experiences.

“Any time, love.” turning to face you he pulled you by the waist, his signature smirk and relaxed eyes scanning yours. “Especially when it includes this little paradise.”

“Have I told you I love you yet?” You questioned, the toothy grin he loved so much splattered on your face, his strong arms around you, the sounds of crashing waves in the background, white sand in your toes and his skin smelling just like your favorite childhood memories did.

“Not today, I don’t think so. Eu te amo” a questioning look as he tested his Portuguese around you, crushing his lips in yours while you giggled, raising you up to his body so he could hold you in his lap, his touch also how home felt to you.

Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble

He felt the first little droplets of rain hit his skin as soon as she screamed “run”, laughing while holding her oversized hat to her head. He sprinted towards her, grabbing her waist, effortlessly stopping them both and turning her body to him, her eyes holding the warmth that lately he could only find there, his face adorned with adoration, her dimples fully showing as her lips plastered the sweetest of grins.

“I love you” He couldn’t help himself, those 3 little words coming out as easily as breath, the thought of how hard it’d been to get them out in the first place long forgotten. She held his gaze as if trying to eternalize those memories, the afternoon summer rain falling hard around them whilst rays of sunlight hit the concrete, their clothes drenched, drops of water running down their tangled bodies.

“I love you; I love you; I love you” senseless babbles that professed his utmost emotion, holding her up to him and kissing in the pouring rain like they were teenagers in a cheesy movie.

A whisper in the ear

Being back to Europe always took you some time to get acclimated, and it didn’t help that that particular winter had been the coldest in years, so much colder than what your body was used to, so you wrapped yourself up in blankets waiting for your boyfriend to get out of the shower and join you in bed, hopefully helping you to warm up.

His parents, siblings, niece and nephew were gathered for an impromptu 5 days getaway in the mountains, in the middle of wintery January, snow everywhere and days filled with winter sports, fireplaces and laughter from the people that had welcomed you as family.

“Hey gorgeous, I thought you’d still be down there” he smirked his way to the open luggage on the little sofa by the bed, towel low on his hips and another in his hand for his face.

“Everyone went to bed, something about getting some sleep to beat you on the slopes tomorrow” You giggled the last part, knowing how competitive they could get. He chuckled and made his way towards you, getting under the blankets and bringing you over to his side, just his presence enough to soothe away the tight muscles from the cold.

“How come you’re always running so cold?” he whispered in your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist and hips and bringing you to his chest. His skin radiating warmth and the smell of your body wash, since he’d forgotten to pack his. Fingers absentmindedly tracing random patterns on your thighs, your eyes lazily trying to focus on the news on the tv but failing miserably, the world could wait until the next morning.

“I love you” was the last thing you heard he whisper, his hoarse voice heavy with sleep, his arms scooching your body closer to his while making sure the blankets covered you both before he let his own sleep take over.

As we huddle together, the storm raging outside

Sundays after races would always be busy for the both of you. The rain was falling hard as you entered the small RV as quietly as you could, founding Lewis ingulfed in his own thoughts and feelings when you finally cleared through your duties, way past the time you wish had.

Taking in how his arms and back looked tense while he rested his head on both his hands sitting in the small sofa, you brought yourself to stand right in front of him, softly running your finger on his neck until he looked up offering a sad side smile and tugged you to his lap. You hadn’t spoken to each other since before he got in his car, well over 4 hours prior, but you didn’t have to.

He needed time to process what happened, he always did. Lewis could always come to interviews looking like he had it all together, always with the right words, but you knew, from the crease in his forehead and the way his shoulders dropped whenever he breathed a little deeper, that his calculating-looking actions and words were just knee-jerk reactions.

“I love you” you said into his neck, a consolation of sorts, huddling together, sitting on his lap with his head resting on your chest and his arms holding your waist tightly. At least in that small room, neither of you had to think about the storm brewing outside, not yet anyway.

Over the shoulder

The championship had, yet again, came down to the last race and the doom could be felt even from outsiders. The last time it happened Lewis wasn’t even a Ferrari driver, but everyone remembered.

You had tried to block the subject from your conversations with him, warned everyone he had enough of the comparisons, made sure he had all the space to breath, concentrate and shield all the noise from the outside. Yet, in the apparent serenity of the hotel bedroom, the quietness would scream back at him.

“What if it’s not meant to be?” He snapped you out of your thoughts as you finished some reports on your computer. His eyes a mix of something you couldn’t quite pint point, his walls up even for you.

“Then you’re still a 7 times world champion, a driver who’s won for McLaren, Mercedes and Ferrari, a trailblazer in the sport, entrepreneur over a variety of assets, founder of Mission 44, British knight, Brazilian honorary citizen, Anthony and Carmen’s son, Nicolas’ brother, my mom’s favorite son-in-law… oh and Roscoe’s dad, of course.” He smiled as you got to his family, scootching over to be by your side on the balcony sofa and laying his head on your lap.

“I would hate to be an almost champion… twice”

“Yeah, we would all hate that too. And it’s okay to feel all kinds of way about possible results, but we’re not gonna known until we know, right?!” You felt him humm in response, your fingertips going through his braids, trying to sooth the tensions away from him.

It wasn’t until the soft humming of a phone in the bedroom that you realized you had fallen asleep in the balcony, his body moving almost automatically to get him up while his features revealed how he too had dozed off.

“Will you still love an almost champion?” He prompted suddenly, almost like he had just remembered he had to know, eyes twinkling under the lights.

“Babe, I stayed even in the timbs phase, didn’t I?” You smirked back earning a full soundless chuckle, those that had him reach for his diaphragm and shake his head left to right.

“You’re lucky I love you; you really are.” You heard as he looked over his shoulders just as he got back inside.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1

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azsazz · 2 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 24)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,511

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Part 22] [Part 23] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

Things slowly begin to enter a new normal.

You go to class, see your friends, and spend most nights with your boyfriend, licking, teasing, tasting each other on every available inch of skin you can find. The five of you hang out as a group and you’ve never been happier.

You’re even passing art history, thanks to Azriel’s fool-proof system of studying; a sexual favor in exchange for every correct answer you give.

For the most part, everything seems like a dream. Compared to the beginning of your year, it is. There's still that niggling feeling inside of you that you just can’t seem to get over, though. As you sit in the art building working on your project for Alis’ class, you’re not entirely sure what to do. It’s the last assignment before the semester ends and you’ve started and restarted the drawing three times already, all of your attempted creativity fizzling out within hours.

Now, with only two days to go before it’s due for critique, you’re on the cusp of tears. It’s not from lack of trying, but because you’ve been forcing yourself to tap into your inner creative and find your muse. You want to create something that you’re proud of, but there’s nothing for your heart to grasp onto, no genius ideas that make you want to pour your soul onto the paper.

You’re starting to think that you might fail this class.

Feyre had offered to tag along, but she’s already finished her project fairly quickly after the assignment was given out, and things have been a bit awkward between you and Lucien since he found out that you and Azriel are officially dating.

Naturally, the event had occurred after one of your drawing classes. It almost felt like deja vu, with the way Azriel was waiting outside of the building. This time, you were more than happy to see your boyfriend, who was leaning up against the side of his motorcycle, helmet tucked under his arm with a second one perched beside him.

You could admit that you’re starting to enjoy riding on his motorcycle with him. He’s even taken you to his favorite spot where he often goes to draw or think, escaping the stressors of his life back on campus such as his father pestering him about the buying building he lives in. He hasn’t responded to a single text message.

“(Y/N), hold up a minute,” Lucien said, stopping you from going down the stairs of the building to meet your boyfriend with a hand on your shoulder. Feyre continues downward after you gently wave her on, but you don’t miss the way Azriel’s eyes narrow.

“What’s up, Luc?” you ask, although you already know what he’s wondering. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that whatever you and Azriel had started out as is now the complete opposite. He’s no longer your infuriating neighbor, but the boy you you’re slowly starting to fall—

Thankfully, Lucien interrupts the thought before you can dwell on it too long. “What’s going on with him?” he asks, jerking his head to where Feyre and Azriel are talking quietly. The latter watches you and Lucien’s exchange intently. “I thought you two hated each other, but now you’re hanging out with him all of the time? Did I miss something?”

A pang of guilt gnaws at your stomach. You feel bad for not telling Lucien about your newfound romance with Azriel, but you’ve been wanting to tell him over lunch or coffee, but with the end of the semester projects and tests coming up, the both of you had been too busy to properly hang out.

Your cheeks heat and it’s hard to look him in his eyes when he looks so confused. “Yeah, um, Azriel and I are sort of dating now.”

Lucien frowns, “Sort of?”

“We are,” you shake your head, answering more solidly this time. “We’re dating.”

You don’t miss the hurt that flashes through his eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You sigh, kicking and digging the tip of your shoe into the concrete for something to focus on. You don’t like the way that Lucien is looking at you, like you’re no longer his friend, which isn’t the case at all. Sure, you know that for whatever reason he and Azriel don’t see eye-to-eye, and you can admit that you’ve only fed into that storyline by spending most of your time these days with Azriel and not taking the proper time to check in with your friend, but right you feel like you’re the one at blame for not reaching out.

It seems as if Azriel has had enough, pushing up from his motorcycle to ascend the stairs. His strides are long, sure, and his spine straightens with each step closer he takes, shoulders widening and chest puffing.

“Hey, princess.”

“Azriel,” you greet with a nervous smile, accepting the way he tucks you into his side and presses a kiss to your cheek. His hand is firm against your hip and you enjoy the way he feels, the way he allows you to siphon some of his strength for this conversation. “This is Lucien. Lucien, this is Azriel.”

The two boys stare at each other, sizing one another up. It makes you shift on your feet but Azriel’s hold only tightens, showing you off, staking his claim.

It’s awkward, to say the least. Neither of them greet each other and it's as if they’re both waiting for the other to look away first so the other can snap at their neck like a rabid dog. You shoot a look towards Feyre but her head is buried in her phone, an enormous smile on her face, completely oblivious to the pissing contest that’s happening up the stairs.

A muscle ticks in Lucien's jaw before he rips his gaze away from Azriel to settle back on yours. He gives you a single nod, and you’re not sure how to feel when his throat works around a swallow, his normally honeyed voice coming out rougher. “I have to go, actually, before I’m late. I’ll see you around, (Y/N).”

“Lucien,” you call, but he’s already turned down the stairs and is brushing past Feyre, whose eyebrows furrow with concern at the sight of your friend. She tries to speak to him but he brushes her off gently, and when her heavy blue-gray eyes settle on you, you deflate into Azriel’s side.

You feel similarly to how you did then, defeated and glum. The piece of drawing paper before you is filled with the darkness from your charcoal, your fingers coated in the chalky substance, and the shapes you’d been sketching stare back at you, taunting you, because no one is going to be able to finish this except for you.

It’s a fairly simple task, to draw yourself as some sort of hybrid, but as you look in the mirror hanging to your left, you can’t seem to figure out what kind of creature resonates with you. Feyre had drawn herself as some sort of beast, her true self, she claimed. When you had asked Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel what they had done when they took their drawing classes, Rhysand said he drew himself with dragon features, Cassian morphed himself with a grizzly bear, and Azriel had drawn himself with the bat wings inked across his back.

The last time you spoke with Lucien before your relationship became strained, he’d been drawing half of his face as a fox, and you’d seen one of the other girls in your class, Vassa, you think her name is, drawing herself as a phoenix. Everyone seemed to light up with their ideas immediately when Alis had announced the final project, and you had only ducked your head, unsure of what to do.

Voices trickling down the hall startle you from your thoughts. You set your chalk down as you recognize the tenor, the laughter echoing around the silent building. Azriel and Cassian appear in the doorway to the classroom. Cassian’s splattered with clay from having been working on his own final project of the year, something he’s been boasting about but refuses to tell anyone what it is, and the smile that lights Azriel’s face when his eyes connect with yours is perfect.

You hadn’t realized how tense your shoulders had been, but the way they deflate at the sight of him makes you realize just how tired you are. There isn’t much time left until your project is due, and you’re sure to remind yourself that once again, you need to focus.

But the way Azriel’s eyes drag down your hands, coated in soot from the charcoal, flaring with heat, you’re forgetting your deadline and the project you’ve barely started completely.

“Hey, princess,” Azriel greets, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your mouth. You can’t help but to slant against him a little, your energy from your long night sapped. His hand caresses your cheek and he frowns a little, examining your exhausted and frustrated state.

Your heart flutters at the warmth, at the care he shows you. How he isn’t afraid to hide his hands from you because you’ve spent night after night showing him just how much they mean to you.

“Hi,” you reply with a soft yet strained smile, you turn to Cassian next. “Hey, Cass.”

“Hey (Y/N). How’s the art project coming along?”

You sigh, leaning further into Azriel’s warmth. “Not amazing, if I’m being honest.”

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asks, “It looks like you have a solid start.”

You crinkle your nose, examining your paper. It looks more abstract than anything, and you wonder for a moment if Azriel’s just being nice about it. But you know him better than that, and he would never tease you about a craft so dear to both of your hearts.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you groan.”I’ve started over three times.” All you want to do is throw your head in your hands but you don’t want to get chalk all over your face, unless Azriel is the one putting it there. Naked.

Maybe having sex will help get your creativity flowing?

Your boyfriend frowns for a moment, examining your work. You can see the cogs turning in his head, how he might help you figure out what to draw for your project. Of course, you could easily draw any animal mixed with yourself, but you really want this one to have meaning behind it.

“Why don’t you take a break and we can all grab something to eat?” Azriel suggests. “A break might do you some good, and Cass and I were going to head over to Ritas.”

A hot waffle and a large milkshake sounds absolutely superb right now, to be honest.

You stare at the paper before you. You really should stay and put in a few more hours of work, but at the same time you can’t stand to stare at it any longer.

Two more days. You still have two more days.

“Yeah, I could use a snack,” you agree, picking up your pencil box from the floor and tossing your sticks of chalk into it. “Give me a few minutes to pack up.” You stand from your art horse, eyeing the mess of black. “You should too, Cassian. You’re covered in clay.”

He only grins and you—once again—regret saying anything to him. “The ladies like it dirty, (Y/N). But you know a little something about that, don't you?”

You try to force the warmth from your cheeks as you think of just how thorough Azriel had been the last time he drew you. How up close and personal he’d gotten with his stick of charcoal, how up close and personal he let you get with some paints you’d bought.

Sometimes you love being an artist.

“Fuck off, Cass,” Azriel gripes, flipping your large sketchpad shut. He helps you pack your things while Cassian snickers, and his eyes are hot when you rub your hands together, trying to dispel the dust from them. He slings your backpack over his shoulder and your sketchpad under his arm while you dart off to wash your hands before Azriel can get any ideas.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Rita’s is…bustling for a Friday night.

It looks completely different from when you’d been here last. No sign of the irritable waitress, no sign of anything really, you’re unable to see through the mass of the crowd, stuffed in booths and gyrating in whatever open space is left.

The lights are low. A colorful disco ball spins in the center of the diner that you hadn’t even noticed your first time here. Spots of color percolate around the room, seeming to guide the students on the little dancefloor as they sway their bodies, the tables lined up against the walls for this purpose.

“Rhys and Feyre are on their way,” Cassian says, reading a message on his phone before swiping at the screen. You don’t see the way that his eyes darken at whatever notification pops up because Azriel’s tugging you through the crowd.

The air is hot with bodies and laughter and as you make your way through the throng of people, you’re glad Azriel had talked you into a quick pit stop at the apartment to put your things away, as if he had known the diner would look like this tonight. He must spend more time here than you thought because he eases through the crowd, shoulders lax, letting the clubby music pouring from the jukebox wash over him.

“Are you sure this is Rita’s?” you call over Azriel’s shoulder, genuinely confused to how the dingy daytime diner has turned into this delightful nighttime dance party.

He tosses you a smile over his shoulder that makes your heart flutter.

“It’s where all of the cool kids go before and after the bars,” Cassian teases when Azriel finally finds an empty spot for the three of you to stand. He’s scouring the restaurant as if he’s looking for someone and returns his hazel gaze to you with a lazy grin. “C’mon, (Y/N), it’s like you don’t even go here.”

You roll your eyes, grumbling a little as Azriel pulls you to his front, settling his hands on your hips. The music is surprisingly loud but it’s good, causing you to roll your hips a little with the rhythm. Your boyfriend’s grip tightens, pulling you closer, and you can feel the interested bulge in his pants as his breathing turns heavier with your motions.

“Spent most of my time at house parties last year,” you answer, shouting over the volume of the bar. “I’m hardly of drinking age, lest you forget.” You lean towards Cassian so he can hear you, pressing your ass further into Azriel’s cock. His thumb sneaks under the hem of your shirt, brushing against your exposed skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

As if he isn’t the one that brought you here, he seems to have changed his mind fairly quickly.

“In that case, allow me to buy you a drink, my lady,” Cassian bows a little, taking his time eyeing the lower region of a girl that passes by. “What are you having?”

You shrug, no longer in the mood for a milkshake. You scan the crowd, flickering over everyone on the dancefloor as you mull it over. “Something with rum,” you answer, and you don’t even think he’s listening anymore as the girl gives him a salacious smile over her shoulder and he starts chasing tail.

“Think he’s coming back?” you ask over your shoulder. Your squeal is eaten up by the changing of songs as your boyfriend spins you abruptly in his arms, plastering his hips against yours in a slow grind that matches the heavy bass that makes the crowd cheer in excitement.

“Don’t care,” he breathes into the shell of your ear. He follows his words with a nip at your lobe and you bite your lip, winding your arms around his neck.

“Azriel,” you tut, but you can’t stop looking at his lips. His stare is hot and his hold is demanding, keeping you glued to his front as you grind your hips against his teasingly. “Cassian is your friend.”

“I don’t want to hear another man’s name on your lips right now, princess,” Azriel all but growls, golden eyes igniting.

“What do you want?” you ask breathlessly, your nipples tightening into pebbles beneath your shirt.

You’re thankful no one’s eyes are on you right now, all lost in their own conversations or dances with their partners. You don’t think it would matter if they were looking anyway, because you’re so focused on Azriel and the way his body reacts to a simply press of your body against his, warmth flooding you the way it always does when he’s around, that you might need that drink poured over you to pull your attention from him.

“First, I want to take you home,” his hand strokes a long line up your spine and he buries it in the hair at the nape of your neck. You gasp at his firm hold, arousal dripping to your core when Azriel uses that hand to guide your head away from him to suck at your neck. You arch into him, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Then, I’m going to strip you of all of these clothes,” his free hand grabs a handful of your ass and your approving hum sounds more like a moan. “And I’m going to ask you to ride me, princess. I want you to guide my cock into your tight, drenched pussy and take what you want, because you’re my needy girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” your nails rake down the back of his shirt.

“And when you’re cumming on my cock, squeezing me tight, I want you to—”

“Your drinks,” Cassian says gruffly, shoving a cup between you and Azriel. It forces him to stand straight, glaring absolute daggers at his best friend but it seems to bound off of Cassian’s shoulders easily, because he looks just as pissed.

You’re still a bit dazed, so it takes you a moment or two to figure out what’s going on. Azriel won’t let you leave your position, can’t let you leave your position because his boner if full on fucking raging right now, but he does allow you to turn around again, taking the drink from Cassian to quickly take a sip, trying to quench your parched throat.

“Thanks,” you say but Cassian hardly acknowledges it, passing a beer over to Azriel. He had two still clenched firmly in his free hand but he takes one and slams it back quickly, emptying its contents before Azriel’s even had a sip of his own.

“You okay, Cass?” Azriel asks, his hand sliding protectively over your hip. There’s no need to protect you from Cassian, but even you can admit as you shift from one foot to the other, that it’s weird seeing him like this. Not as carefree as he normally is.

“Fucking dandy,” Cassian grunts, hazel eyes grazing down where you and Azriel are still pressed tightly together. He looks away just as quickly and you think you see his lip curl a little.

Azriel stiffens behind you.

What the hell is going on with him?

Before you have the chance to ask or Azriel has the chance to bait him, Feyre’s pushing through the crowd, towing Rhys behind her. One girl glares at her as she passes but Feyre doesn’t seem to notice, eyes lit with happiness when they finally reach your little group, unaware of the clouds of tension bubbling around the three of you.

Cassian makes an effort not to choke down his entire second beer but it’s all too tempting. He takes a deep sip so he doesn’t have to speak.

“Hey,” she greets, cheeks a little flushed already. Rhysand and she must have been drinking before they came out. Or had sex.

“Hi,” you respond, trying to keep your grip on your cup relaxed. Cassian is acting strange. You glance up at him again but he’s avoiding eye contact with everyone right now, glaring into the mass of people. Yup, definitely avoiding looking at any of you.

“Rhys,” you hear Feyre say as you share a confused look with Azriel. His brows are pulled tight as he examines one of his best friends. He’d seemed fine back at the art building, his normal cheery and cheeky attitude threatening to drive him up the wall, so what happened between then and now? “Will you go get me a drink, please?”

“Of course, Feyre darling,” he agrees, but Cassian’s already shoving past him, muttering how he’ll get them drinks. Rhysand’s mouth parts but Cassian has already disappeared into the crowd. Well, as much as any six-foot-five man can disappear. “What’s his problem?”

Azriel shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer. “If we only knew.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumebrs @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakura-frost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel/reader #tattoo arstist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au

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munson-blurbs · 6 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

Summary: A trip to the thrift store becomes overwhelming for Harris, and you and Eddie have to work as a team. But the real test of your relationship's strength is the crisis that unfolds days later.

Warnings: financial insecurity, school lock-in, missing child, police presence, mention of kidnapping, mention of drug addiction, blood (no gore)

WC: 8.5k

Chapter 19/20

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie has already been awake for two hours when the phone rings. One part of parenthood that he hadn’t anticipated is that children do not understand the concept of weekends. Harris had flung himself out of his racecar bed promptly at 6:30 in the morning, crawling under Eddie’s sheets and poking his nose until he woke up.

“Har, go back to sleep,” Eddie had grumbled, the last word extended in a whine. One cheek was smushed against his pillow, muffling his complaint. “It’s Saturday; you don’t have school.”

In response, Harris pursed his lips into a perfect pout and used his thumb to peel Eddie’s eyelid open, getting as close to his face as possible. His morning breath was tinged with the scent of chocolate; Eddie groggily made a mental note to better supervise his nighttime teeth brushing routine.

“‘M hungry.”

That’s how Eddie finds himself pouring his third cup of coffee while his son keeps his eyes glued to the TV screen, watching Doug stutter and stammer in front of Patti. Eddie smiles, a blush creeping into his cheeks when he realizes that that’s probably what he looks like around you.

“‘Lo?” He cradles the receiver between his ear and his shoulder, wincing as he clumsily clinks the carafe into place. There isn’t enough coffee left to slosh over the side, a small miracle in and of itself, although he’ll have to brew some more if the caffeine doesn’t kick in soon.

“Hey, baby.” Your voice is sleepy yet sweet, smoothing all the creases of the morning. “Did I wake you up?”

Eddie laughs and takes a sip from his favorite mug, the one that proudly declares #1 Dad. It’s stained and chipped, but he’ll never throw it out. Wayne had bought it for him on his very first Father’s Day; ironically, Eddie had bought him a #1 Grandpa mug that year, probably from the same kiosk at the mall.

“Not even close,” he says, tongue flicking to the corner of his lip to catch the drip of coffee that’s pooled in the crevice. “Someone was up bright and early this morning.” His gaze flits over to the bowl of Cheerios snug between Harris’s criss-crossed legs, mostly uneaten despite his earlier protests that would make an outsider believe he was starving. “How was your sleep?” he asks, swinging back to your conversation.

You switch the phone from one ear to the other. “It was good. Would’ve been better if you were next to me, though,” you add, twirling the cord around your forefinger. If you could, you would capture the safety of his embrace and bottle it, releasing a bit each time you craved his gentle touch. “I might’ve even let you be the little spoon.”

He balks at this with a playful scoff, nearly spilling his coffee with the sudden movement. “Yeah, right,” he chuckles, licking the side of the mug before the bitter liquid can slide off and hit the ground. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Admittedly, his skepticism is rooted in truth; whenever you do get the chance to cuddle in bed, he’s always the one wrapping his arm around your waist, often taking the opportunity to snake a hand up your shirt and let the pads of his fingers brush over your breasts. It isn’t always a display of sexuality or desire–though you can’t say you mind that–but a connection, a way of ensuring that you stay close.

“Just a few more weeks until we get to find out for ourselves,” you tease, though he needs no reminding. Only sixteen days remain until you officially move in together, and he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s counting down. “Speaking of which,” you continue, glancing at the clock, “I was wondering if you and Harris wanted to do some furniture shopping for his new room.” You knew that he would be keeping his racecar bed; it’s unlikely he’ll part with it until he’s outgrown it completely. “Y’know, a new dresser or nightstand or something.”

There’s an extended pause on Eddie’s side of the line. You think the call dropped and are about to hang up and redial when you hear him say, “I, um…I don’t get paid until next week…” He nervously scratches the countertop with one fingernail.

“Oh.” You grapple with a response, trying to strike a balance of empathy without condescension. “Well, I was going to surprise you, but I sold some of Grandma’s old—”

“No way,” Eddie interjects, firmly but not harshly. “I’m not having you spend your money on me. We can just wait until payday.”

“I want to buy this for Harris. I…I probably should have cleared out Grandma’s room months ago, but I couldn’t. I mean, I could, but it felt wrong because I had nothing to put in its place.” You don’t care that you’re babbling on, forging ahead with your impromptu monologue. “It would’ve been too empty, but with you and Harris here, it won’t be empty anymore.”

Eddie tucks his thumbnail between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he prods, not wanting to sound ungrateful.

“Positive.” You’re much more assured in your reply. “If she knew Harris before she got sick, she would’ve spoiled the hell out of him, anyway.” The moment she saw him happily digging into the Oreos, she would have ensured that the cupboard remained stocked with Double Stuf. “In a way, s’like she gets to spoil him now.”

You can sense Eddie’s resistance tempering with an audible exhale. “He’s an easy kid to love, that’s for sure,” he muses, buying time to process the influx of emotions flooding his body. There’s the obvious gratitude that you’re so eager to take care of his son, but it’s cut with the insecurity of him not being able to do so. If you’re going to buy Harris furniture, it should be because you want to, not because he can’t. What if you hold this against him? What if, in the future, there’s an argument and you fire back with a retort about his shortcomings as a father?

Except…you have never done that. Ever. Not that night in the emergency room, or when you’d found out about the CPS report filed that evening. Not even when Eddie had made it his personal mission to tear you down, pulling insults from the depths and hurling them at you with reckless abandon.

You hadn’t brought up the way he’d helplessly panicked when confronted with the possibility of Harris’s learning disability, or how he’d let anxiety overtake him when he officially received a classification. With everything the two of you had endured, you’d never once echoed his anxieties about his parenting abilities; it was quite the opposite. With you by his side, he feels as though he can take on whatever challenge life chucks at him.

“Eds? Is everything okay?” Your tone is thick with concern; Eddie realizes that you probably think you’ve upset him. “We don’t have to go—we can do something else, or—”

“Sweet girl,” he says in one exhale, both to reassure you and to remind himself that you’re his, and he’s yours. Love surges through the phone lines when he speaks. “We can pick you up in an hour, if that works? I should be able to wrangle Harris by then.”

“Y’sure?” And, Christ, how his heart sinks when you shrink inward, reflexively making yourself smaller when you’re worried that you’ve offended someone.

Eddie doesn’t answer you directly, instead, calls out his son’s name. “Hey, Harris?” He frowns when Harris completely ignores him in favor of watching the cartoon. Using his free hand, he cups his mouth in a makeshift megaphone, amplifying his voice. “Harris Wayne Munson!”

The sudden sound jolts him out of his TV-induced stupor. “Huh?”

“Go get dressed and brush your teeth; we’re gonna go shopping with Ms. Sweetheart!” Eddie grins as Harris turns to him with a wide smile of his own. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Harris jumps up without further hesitation, inadvertently tossing his bowl from the makeshift table of his legs. Milk splatters, instantly soaking into the carpet, and the Cheerios topple out and land in a soggy pile. “Nooo, my bref-ist!” His big eyes well up with tears. “Daddy, you made me drop my bref-ist!”

“You, uh, wanna deal with that?” You can’t hide your amusement at the usual Munson chaos.

“Probably should, huh?” Eddie jokes back, stretching the phone cord as far as he can and reaching for the paper towel roll. “I love you, babe. See you in a bit.”

“I love you, Eds,” you tell him. “And Harris, too, of course.”

Some more static and shuffling; then, an energetic voice greets you. “Hi Ms. Sweetheart! Daddy made me drop my bref-ist,” the little boy reports.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Har.” You’ve perfected the art of mustering up sympathy for children’s not-soearth-shattering issues, a skill that every preschool teacher must possess. “Why don’t you help him clean up? That way, I can see you even faster.”

Harris pauses, mulling over his options. “Yeah, okay! Gotta go! Bye!”

You hear the clunk of him struggling to replace the phone on the hook, followed by Eddie saying, “Let me say good-bye before you hang—” click.

Pulling your own receiver from your ear, you stare at it with mild amusement. Never a dull moment with my boys.

Your boys drive up to your building just over an hour later. You stand up from the bench outside the entrance and smooth down your shorts where they’ve creased.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” Eddie lets the pet name roll off of his tongue. He wants to kiss you as you slide into the passenger seat, but he withholds his affection for Harris’s sake. It seems silly, considering you’ll all be living together, but he doesn’t know how his son will react to the romance aspect of it. Will he be happy? Excited? Disgusted by any display of affection?

You give his hand a subtle squeeze, turning around to greet Harris. “Ready to shop till we drop?”

“Till we drop?” Harris wrinkles his nose, glancing between you and his dad. “Why would we drop?”

“It’s just an expression,” you explain, catching a glimpse of the smile tugging at the corners of Eddie’s mouth. “Just means that we’re going to shop until we’re too tired to shop anymore.”

“I never get tired,” Harris declares, sticking his legs straight out so his flexed feet push up against the back of the driver’s seat, nudging Eddie slightly forward. “Grampa Wayne calls me an ‘Energizer Bunny.’” He bounces up and down in his booster seat to prove his point.

Eddie reaches his right arm around, keeping his left firmly gripping the wheel, as he moves Harris’s feet from where they’re planted into his lower back. “So, Har,” he starts, easing his weight onto the brake as he approaches a red light, “we’re gonna look for a new dresser for you, and maybe a nightstand.” He takes a deep breath as he delivers the news: “That means we’re not making any pit stops for toys. Got it?”

You want to interject, to let Eddie know that you don’t mind splurging on a small treat for Harris, but you bite it back. Whether or not you have the spare funds is irrelevant: this is the boundary he’s set for his son, and you have to respect it, regardless of your desire to spoil him.

Harris, however, does not accept the announcement as readily. “Not even, like, a little one?” he presses, holding his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. “Even if I’m really, really good?” He gives a hopeful smile, eyes blinking expectantly.

Eddie looks at you, serving as your cue to provide your input. You nod your approval, trying to hide your delight in being asked to make a parenting decision, regardless of how menial it may seem. He peers up through the rearview mirror at his son’s waiting face. “If you’re really, really good,” he acquiesces, features pinching into a grimace when Harris’s exuberant squeal echoes through the sedan. “You have to use your inside voice and stay next to us the whole time. Deal?”

“Deal,” Harris confirms. “Deal, Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Deal.” Laughter bubbles up inside you and you let it spill out uninhibited. You know that telling a child he can get a toy is an easy part of parenthood, but you silently swear to never take for granted being included in that choice. Harris joins you, though he’s not quite sure why he’s laughing, but your joy is contagious.

You lean your head against the car window, listening to the buzz of the radio filling the silence. Harris hums along, more on-key than the average five-year-old, which you can safely attribute to him having a musician for a dad.

“I’m not getting a new bed, right?” Harris says with sudden urgency. “Because I wanna keep my racecar bed.”

“Mhm,” you affirm, smiling when Harris relaxes back against the headrest. “Your racecar bed will be in your new room, don’t you worry.”

“Okay.” That response satisfies him until he thinks up another question. “An’ you’re bringing your bed, Daddy?”

Eddie chuckles as he pulls into the Goodwill parking lot. He picks a spot close to the store, right next to a green Ford with a faded “Clinton ‘96” bumper sticker. “Um, no. I’m not bringing my bed.”

“So are you getting a new bed?” His eyes dart from side to side as he assesses the size of the car. “Where’s it gonna fit?”

“I’m, uh, not buying a new bed, either.” Eddie kills the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt, swiveling to face Harris, who is more confused than ever. “Ms. Sweetheart and I are going to share her bed.”

Harris kicks his feet, processing this new information. “But you didn’t get married yet,” he points out, “so how can you share a bed?”

You rest your palm on Eddie’s forearm in quiet reassurance. “Some people share a bed before they get married,” you explain simply, knowing that less is often more when talking to young children.

“When are you gonna get married?” he asks, more curious than meddling. “Because it’s taking forever. My friends’ mommies and daddies are already married.”

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge the fact that Harris essentially referred to you as his mommy; instead, he slowly exhales. “I’d like to marry Ms. Sweetheart someday, and I think she’d like to marry me, too.” He looks over at you with a sheepish grin, and you give his hand an agreeing squeeze. “But, for now, we’re just going to try out living together. How does that sound?”

“I guess that’s okay.” Harris isn’t completely thrilled with his dad’s response, but he relents anyway.

“While, we’re, uh, on the subject,” Eddie continues, the tips of his ears flushing pink as he carefully considers his words. He chews on the inside of his lower lip. Is he really doing this? Is he opening his son up to this relationship? “You know that Ms. Sweetheart and I love each other very much, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Sometimes,” Eddie continues with only some trepidation, “sometimes, when grown-ups love each other a lot, they hold hands o-or kiss. Would that be weird for you? If Ms. Sweetheart and I held hands, or kissed?”

You avert your gaze, partly from bashfulness but mostly so Harris doesn’t feel any pressure from either of you.

The little boy looks at the car’s ceiling, centering his focus on the overhead lighting. Finally, with utmost certainty, he declares, “just no tongue-kissing.”

You snort out a laugh while Eddie goes bright red and sputters, “where did you learn about that?”

“Young and Restless,” Harris reports nonchalantly.

Eddie rubs his eyes, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his lids until his vision blurs. “Remind me to tell Wayne to stop letting him watch the soaps,” he grumbles to you, turning back to his son. “Yeah, no tongue-kissing.”

You easily lace your fingers with Eddie’s as you walk through the front doors of the Goodwill. Harris starts making a beeline for the toys, but Eddie uses his free hand to pivot him in the direction of the furniture department. Harris huffs but complies, trudging alongside you.

There’s a bright blue nightstand on display that immediately catches his eye. “Look!” he points, smiling so wide that all of his baby teeth are on display, “can I get it? Please?”

Eddie smiles warily, flipping over the white tag hanging from one silver drawer handle. He breathes a small sigh of relief when he sees the price is within the range of what he’d like to spend; rather, what he’d be comfortable asking you to spend.

“Looks like we’ve got a winner,” he says, posture straightening with the announcement. He runs his fingertips over the surface, checking for any chipping paint or splintering wood, but the finish appears to be intact. “I’ll go tell someone to set it aside for us.”

He sets off in search of an employee, leaving you alone with Harris. You swallow the nervousness building in your throat. You spend nearly every day taking care of children, but you’re suddenly inundated with the memory of losing him at the flea market. Those few minutes when you couldn’t locate him were some of the scariest of your life.

And yet, it hadn’t prevented Eddie from giving you another chance.

“Are you excited to move in with me, Har?” you ask, reaching out to ruffle his curls.

He nods, then looks straight up at you so that you’re staring at his nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart?” The position of his neck changes his voice’s pitch so it’s froggy. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Can you marry my daddy?” His eyes shine with potential. “And then you can be my mommy for real?”

You crouch down to his height, heart melting at his request. “Harris, I love your daddy very, very much. And I love you very, very much, too.” You poke his nose gently, and he giggles. “Being married is a big responsibility—”

“‘Sponsibility?”

“Mhm. Responsibility. It means a really important job.” You slide your heart pendant across the chain on your neck anxiously. “And your daddy and I want to make sure that we’re ready for that kind of responsibility before we do anything, okay?”

Harris nods, but you can tell from his crinkled nose and furrowed brows that he doesn’t fully understand. You can’t blame him; it’s an abstract concept, one that even you often have trouble comprehending. “But I can tell you one thing: whenever your daddy wants to propose, I’ll say ‘yes.’” You smile at the thought of Eddie asking you to be his wife.

“Is that where he gets down on one knee and asks ‘Will you marry me?’” You’re about to respond when he adds, “and then someone runs in and yells about being their long-lost ‘dentical twin?”

Yeah, no more soap operas for Harris.

Finding a dresser proves to be a much more difficult task than picking out the nightstand. Everything that Harris likes is out of budget, and everything within budget is too worn down or small. There’s one that’s in good condition and isn’t too pricey, but it’s covered in hand-painted unicorns.

“That’s for girls!” Harris groans, stomping his feet. The last word is stretched in a whine. “I can’t have girl stuff!”

“We can paint over it. Whatever color you want,” you quickly jump in, trying to avoid a meltdown, but your efforts are fruitless. Fat tears stream down his cheeks; he’s already determined that the dresser is tainted.

“No! No, no, no!” he howls, throwing himself on the floor. He smacks down on his tailbone, fanning his tantrum’s flames. He quiets for a moment, too shocked to cry, but then he’s screaming louder than before.

It’s as though he’s lost control of his body, arms and legs knocking into the lower shelves without care. You can’t block him in time before he knocks over a lamp—a Nickelodeon-themed one that would have been perfect in his new room, ironically—and it shatters on the ground. Ceramic splinters, scattering across the linoleum like roaches in the light.

People start to stare, some with sympathetic looks, and some glare angrily at the child daring to interrupt their shopping. Eddie’s face blazes, vision swimming as he wracks his brain for a solution.

You’re faster, slapping a few bills into Eddie’s palm and jolting him from his thoughts. He watches you scoop Harris off of the floor, trying to avoid his flailing limbs.

“Go get the nightstand and pay for the lamp,” you tell him, straightforward and precise. “I’ll get him to the car and calm him down. Keys?”

Eddie blinks, the information swirling around him but not quite penetrating the surface. It’s when you hoist Harris onto one hip and balance his weight in one hand, using the other to make a ‘gimme’ motion that it registers.

“Y-Yeah, sorry.” Eddie fumbles for the car keys and tosses them to you, the two of you working in tandem. A well-oiled machine. You nod gratefully, wincing as Harris’s foot makes contact with your thigh. “I’ll be right out.”

You’re able to bring him to the car, struggling to unlock it and hold on to Harris. After a few failed attempts, you manage to open the passenger door and sit him on the seat.

“Harris, hey, Harris?” you start, keeping your voice soft and even while trying to pull his attention. His sobs are slowing down but he’s definitely breathing too rapidly for your comfort. “Hey, bud. You’re okay, all right?” You extend your hand and he tentatively places his own palm on top of it. “You wanna give my hand a squeeze?”

He does it, the motion grounding him enough that he can focus on your body in front of him. You don’t want to touch him, knowing that his senses are already overstimulated from the tantrum. Instead, you relax as his squeezing grows stronger and his breaths gradually even out.

“There ya go, Har. Just like that.” You smile warmly. “That was a really big feeling, huh?”

“Uh-huh.” His voice shakes and hiccups. He swipes at the tears on his cheeks, smudging them into his skin.

You reach into the center console and grab a tissue, wiping the mucus from his nose and lips. “Good as new.” With no trashcan nearby, you shove the used Kleenex into your pants pocket. “Can you tell me what made you so mad in there?”

“D-Don’t want girl…girl st-stuff,” he stutters through ragged breaths.

There’s a time and place to discuss the optics of categorizing interests into ‘boy’ and ‘girl,’ but you know better than to have that conversation now. “Oof, that’s why you were angry! That’s a lot to handle.” You gingerly tuck a curl behind his ear. “But, Harris, did you see what happened when you started hitting and kicking?” He shakes his head. “Well, you knocked over a lamp and it broke. You could have gotten hurt, or someone else could have gotten hurt.”

Harris’s face falls as you speak, absorbing what you’re explaining. “I-I didn’t mean to,” he sniffles. “‘M sorry.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you sigh, “sometimes, when we have big feelings like getting angry, we do things we shouldn’t without even realizing.” You pause for a moment, biting your lip as you consider your words. “Do you want to hear what helps me when I have really big feelings and I can’t scream and cry?”

“Mhm.” He nods again, little tongue peeking out to swipe up the tears above his mouth.

“I take a deep breath and close my eyes,” you start, demonstrating both actions. Inhale for three, exhale for three, and repeat. “And then I picture myself being in my favorite place in the world.” You smile at him, blinking back the sadness that comes with memories of holidays at Grandma’s. “Wanna try it together?”

Harris responds by closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. “Good job, Har,” you softly praise him. “Now breathe out; make sure you’re thinking of your favorite place, okay?”

“Thinkin’ about the zoo,” he whispers, voice raspy from shrieking for so long. “Daddy taked me there and we saw so much animals.”

“Zoos are a lot of fun,” you agree with a laugh. “I’ve never been to the one in Hawkins. Maybe we can go over the summer?”

“Yeah! I wanna show you the flamingos!” His grin stretches across his cheeks “Do you like flamingos?”

Like most people, you don’t have a strong opinion on flamingos, but you respond with an enthusiastic, “I love them!”

“Love who?” Eddie’s voice breaks into the conversation. He’s rolling out the nightstand in a cart, keeping one hand on top of it to hold it steady. “Me?”

You laugh, opening up the back door so he can wedge the furniture next to Harris’s booster seat. “Yes, Eddie. I love you very much, don’t worry,” you tease, seizing the opportunity to inconspicuously check him out. His biceps flex as he maneuvers the nightstand, and you have to tear your gaze from his denim-clad ass when he stands up and triumphantly wipes his hands on his pants.

“C’mere.” He pulls you in, pursing his lips in an exaggerated pout and planting a smacking kiss on you.

While you giggle, Harris is not as amused. He claps his hands over his eyes and groans.

“No tongue-kissing!”

You’re wrapping up storytime, your students fidgeting with their shoelaces—some fidgeting with their friend’s shoelaces—eager to move onto the corresponding art activity Will has planned.

“Okay, we’re going to use our walking—” Your announcement is cut short by Principal Sinclair’s voice coming over the loudspeaker. Her tone is typically warm and excited, but the way she speaks so sternly sends chills through your entire body.

“This is a lock-in. All staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified. I repeat, all staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified.”

You breathe out, though you’re still concerned about the cause of the lock-in. It’s usually some kind of medical issue that requires emergency services to have unblocked access through the halls. You hope that whatever it is isn’t life-threatening.

Will locks the door wordlessly, and you repeat your directions to the class. The kids walk to their seats, asking non-stop about what a lock-in means.

“We just have to stay in the classroom,” you find yourself repeating, losing patience with each iteration. You’re thankful for small miracles; your class has already gone out for recess, which means you don’t have to break that news to them.

Will is helping the kids glue multicolored strands of crepe paper in the shape of a rainbow, complete with cotton ball clouds. You’re unclogging a bottle of Elmer’s when the classroom phone rings, startling you. You place the glue bottle on the table, promising Joshua that you’ll be right back, and answer it.

“Hello?”

“We need you to come to the office immediately,” the secretary’s clipped voice informs you. “Bring your personal items. We’ll send someone to assist Will.”

Stupidly, you nod before remembering she can’t see you. “Y-Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.” You hang up, tell Will the plan, and bolt out the door.

What the hell is going on? Why are they having me break the lock-in to go to the office? You hike your purse higher up your shoulder, trying to ignore the dread pooling in your stomach and creeping up your throat.

Something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong.

Your feet can’t carry you fast enough. You nearly stop breathing when you see Eddie pacing in the lobby, Marion and Paula standing off to the side and speaking with Chief Hopper. The two teachers wear matching worried expressions.

As soon as Eddie spots you, he’s charging over. “Oh, thank God,” he murmurs, throwing his arms around you and hugging you tight. You can feel the tears falling from his eyes, wetting the crook of your neck. His hands squeeze against your back and your shoulder blades as his body is wracked with sobs.

You weave your fingers through his hair, holding him as close as you can. You’re desperate to know what’s going on, but you doubt he could explain if he tried. Instead, you continue comforting him while Principal Sinclair walks over.

Her strides are long and purposeful, and she meets your own terrified gaze with her own. “Harris went missing during recess,” she says quietly, “and Mr. Munson let us know that you might be an asset in locating him.”

Harris went missing. Bile inches up your esophagus and you swallow it, wincing at its burn. “Why would he—” You stop mid-sentence; his motive is not important right now. All of your focus needs to be on finding him.

Chief Hopper approaches you and Eddie, tapping your boyfriend on the shoulder with two fingers. Eddie looks up, wipes his face with the heel of his palm, and clears his throat, but a fresh batch of tears threatens to spill over anyway.

“We’ve just collected statements from his teachers,” Hopper reports, looking down at his notepad. “They said that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, that Harris was just playing with his friends one moment and then gone the next.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “No, something had to have happened.” Harris had wandered off plenty of times, like at the flea market. The difference was that he was easily found. “If you haven’t found him, then he’s either hiding, or someone…” The thought is too painful to finish.

Hopper looks over at the principal. “You’re certain that the playground is secure?” He asks her, not accusing, but waiting for confirmation.

“Yes, absolutely secure,” she affirms, nodding her head. “The gate can only be opened from the inside, so no one can access it off of the street.”

You know this, of course, but it doesn't bring you closer to finding Harris.

“We’ve taped off the playground,” Hopper continues, “and we’ve got a search squad going now. Considering that Harris has been diagnosed with a disability, we’re beginning this investigation right away.”

“Mr. Munson,” a second officer chimes in, “is there anyone who would be inclined to take your son? Perhaps a non-custodial parent or an estranged relative?”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “His mom, um, isn’t in the picture. Never has been.”

Hopper cocks one brow. “Never?” he asks disbelievingly. “How soon after he was born did she relinquish her rights?”

“She, um,” Eddie swallows, rubbing his nose in embarrassment, “she never did. Never relinquished her rights, I mean. She just kinda split.”

“So there was no formal agreement that she could no longer be involved in Harris’s life?”

“N-No,” he stammers, shame seeping from every pore. He’d always meant to start the legal proceedings, but that takes time and money…and maybe a small part of him had always hoped she’d come around and do the right thing.

He looks over at you now, the way you’ve stepped into a mothering role like a puzzle piece. Like any parent, you’d made some mistakes, but you’re also the most compassionate person Eddie has ever known.

He thinks of the times he’d tried to make his ex get clean, to want to get clean, and to be there for Harris. The weight of disappointment caused his chest to ache every time she’d mumble, “I’m gonna, but not right now” or “I don’t need help.”

Perhaps it’s unfair to compare the two of you; after all, you hadn’t struggled with addiction. But Eddie can’t help himself. You’d loved Harris before you’d even loved him, he realizes. And he’d never had to ask you to.

“Do you have any contact information for her?” Hopper taps his pen against his notepad. “Nine out of ten times in these situations, the child is with someone they know.”

What about the ‘one’ time? What happens then? Heat pulses in Eddie’s cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. He doesn’t need Hopper to answer the question; he already knows what that means.

“It’s from five years ago, so I don’t know if it’s still accurate.” He stumbles over his words, thinking about the last time he’d called her; it was the invitation to Harris’s birthday. “I don’t know it by heart, but I have it in my address book at home.”

Hopper gives a brusque nod to his colleague and to your boss. “We’ll give you a lift. And, uh, it’ll be good to set up your place as a home base.”

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Eddie mumbles, simply going through the motions without processing them. He’s on autopilot, a robotic version of himself. If he was able to fully absorb his surroundings, he would note the irony of him sitting in the back of the cop car because they’re helping him instead of escorting him to the county jail.

You don’t let go of his hand the entire ride there, your thumb rubbing the soft hairs on his knuckles. “We’re gonna find him,” you whisper reassuringly, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

But Eddie is too embroiled in his own thoughts, imagining every possible tragedy that could have befallen his son. As soon as Hopper pulls up to the apartment complex, Eddie is flying up the stairs, two at a time, unlocking the door as fast as he can. You run in behind him, watching as he flings loose papers and pens from a kitchen drawer. He’s kicked over the boxes he’s already packed; clothes and some of Harris’s toys are scattered across the floor like a poorly-designed booby-trap.

He holds up the tattered black book, flipping through it until he lands on the right page. “Here. Right here.” He frantically points to an entry at the top, fingertip jabbing into it over and over.

Hopper takes the book from him, careful not to rip the already weathered materials. He dials the digits and frowns when he’s greeted by the automated we’re sorry, this number is no longer in service, far too chipper for the circumstances. He tries once more in case he dialed incorrectly, but he gets the same message.

“Disconnected,” he says gruffly, hanging the receiver with a clank. “Is there anyone else?”

Eddie can only shake his head somberly. If Wayne got Harris from school early, he would have told him. He wasn’t even sure how much of Harris’s maternal family knew of his existence, let alone his location. If someone took his son, it was more than likely a complete stranger.

Hopper’s walkie crackles with static; you and Eddie stiffen with anticipation. “Hey, Chief?” comes from the garbled voice on the other end.

“I’m here.”

“We’ve got a kid here at the school who says he spoke with Harris Munson right before he went missing today.”

Eddie stands up, walking closer to Hopper. Part of you expects him to grab the walkie and try talking straight to the other officer, but he doesn’t.

Hopper presses the small black button and speaks. “Copy. Does he know where we might locate him?”

There’s a deafening silence for a few moments; no more than ten seconds pass, but it feels like a lifetime. Finally, there’s some information: “No known location; just says that Harris told him he was having ‘big feelings’ and needed to go to his favorite place.’”

“The zoo,” you murmur aloud, drawing confused looks from both men in the room. “When he got upset on Saturday—at Goodwill—I taught him to do some deep breathing and picture being in his favorite place, and he told me it was the zoo. But I…” you swallow, furrowing your brows, “I told him to picture it, not actually go there.”

“Zoo’s too far for him to walk, and no bus driver is going to let a kid that young ride by himself,” the chief points out.

You nod, biting your lower lip. “He might not be at the zoo, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to get there.”

Hopper thanks the other officer and turns to you and Eddie. My guys are deploying the search party as we speak.” He takes a deep breath and makes direct eye contact with you and Eddie. “We’ll do everything we can to bring your son back safely.”

Eddie buries his head in his hands, collapsing back against the living room wall and sliding down to the floor.

You look over at the police chief. “Can we help? Join the search…or something?” Anything besides sitting around and waiting for answers.

“Absolutely. We’ll keep an officer stationed here in case Harris comes home.”

You nudge your foot against Eddie’s. “C’mon, babe.” You try to keep strength behind your words, to be what Eddie needs right now, but it gets harder with each passing second. “We’re gonna go look for him.” He looks up and notices that you’ve extended your hand, and he takes it, pulling himself up.

He doesn’t say a word, but he follows you and Hopper out the door. He’s gnawing on his lips so violently that some skin peels off between his teeth; flecks of blood dotting his usually perfect mouth.

“We’ve got some time before sunset, so that’s on our side,” Hopper says as he drives back the way he came. “We’ll start in the woods near the school, and we’ll move from there.” He peers back at the two of you through the rearview mirror with a determined gaze.

“My uncle,” Eddie says suddenly, no certain expression on his face. He’s practically catatonic when he talks. “I want Wayne to wait at the apartment. I need to tell him…” If Harris does return home first and sees police officers surrounding the place, he might get scared and run off again.

Hopper scratches at his beard. “We’ll let him know, all right? Don’t worry about that.” He radios the instructions to a colleague, who confirms them and signs off, before pulling into a grassy area and killing the engine. “Let’s go. If Harris is going to come out for anyone, it’ll be you two.” He slams his door and then helps you and Eddie out of the backseat.

Before you can even begin, you hear a group of people shouting Eddie’s name. You look over to see Jeff, Jess, and Robin waving and walking towards you.

“We came as soon as we heard,” Robin says, giving you and Eddie a hug. “We’re gonna help you, and we’re not leaving until we find him.”

Jeff offers a tight smile, one hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We’re here for you man,” he promises, sincerity in its purest form. “Viv is gonna stop by later and I’ll take care of Ettie.”

It’s a kind gesture, but Eddie’s stomach sours at the thought of still searching later. He needs to know that his son is safe now.

Harris’s name is echoed over and over, bouncing off of trees and shaking the leaves as you and your friends call out for him.

“Harris!” you cry out, throat raw from your constant shouting. “Harris, it’s Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Harris!” Eddie’s voice is even louder than yours; the power behind it is palpable. “Harris, it’s Daddy! Please come out! You’re not in trouble!” he adds, cognizant of the little boy’s fear of making people mad.

Every squirrel that darts across the forest floor has you whipping your head around, heart leaping at the prospect of Harris emerging from where he’s hiding.

He has to be hiding; your mind won’t let you imagine what could happen if the wrong person saw him walking by himself, determined to get to the zoo…

“Harris, Aunt Robin and I will buy you any toy you want!” Jess yells. “And all the ice cream you can eat!”

The five of you take turns making promises to nobody; they’re secrets shared with the wind. Each unanswered call leaves you feeling more defeated, especially with the sun hanging lower in the sky. It will be dark soon, leaving Harris even more vulnerable than he already is.

Will joins the group a few moments later, bringing granola bars, water, and flashlights. You can only stomach about a quarter of your snack, having completely lost your appetite. Eddie doesn’t even bother to eat, fueled by adrenaline rather than food.

“Principal Sinclair is also looking,” Will tells you and Eddie. “She’s with Lucas and Erica over at Merrill Wright’s farm. It’s closer than the zoo, but he’s got some animals, so they wanted to check there.” He pauses, casting his eyes down for a second before looking at Eddie. “Everyone’s helping out with this. They all want to find Harris.”

Tears well up along Eddie’s lash line; he blinks them away to keep his vision clear. “Thanks, man.” He coughs to clear his throat, emotions forcing their way through. “That means a lot.” For a moment, he sees Will as he was when they first met: an overwhelmed little freshman, unsure of his place in high school, let alone in the world.

What if Harris never gets the chance to find himself? What if he doesn’t get to grow up and learn new things, make his own mistakes, figure out who he is?

You put an arm around Eddie, unknowingly pulling him from his intrusive thoughts. “Can you try to drink some water? Please?” You know better than to nag him about eating right now, but the last thing he needs is to get dehydrated.

He cracks open the bottle and takes a few sips, not realizing how thirsty he was until the liquid covers his tongue. He downs it all without taking a breath, the plastic crinkling as he siphons out every last drop of water.

“Take mine,” you tell him, offering it with the best smile you can possibly muster, but he shakes his head.

“You need it, too.” He’s not wrong, but you have no issue letting him drink from your bottle if he’s still thirsty.

You take a sip and pass it to him. “We’ll share.”

Another hour passes, the pink and orange hues becoming deeper purples and reds as the sky darkens with night. Some people start to call it quits, returning home to their own children, breathing secret sighs of relief that they have children to return home to. Your group remains intact; no one is even considering leaving until they physically cannot move any longer.

With just overworked flashlight bulbs illuminating your path, you continue trudging through the woods. Hopper’s shift was over hours ago, but he’s steadfast in his pursuit to find Harris.

Eddie’s exhausted physically and emotionally, feeling like every part of him has been drained and can never be replenished. His son is missing; he might have been kidnapped, and he doesn’t know if or when he’ll see him again. All he wants is to hold him again, to hear his little laugh as he tells a cheesy joke he learned at school, to watch him sound out new words or draw a picture or just fall asleep in his own bed.

Hopper’s walkie crackles; he clutches it tight and holds it so he can hear it clearly.

“Chief, we may have a sighting.”

A light flickers behind Eddie’s eyes; he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he can’t help himself. He listens intently as the other officer relays the information.

“Doris Driscoll just went outside to let her cats in for the night, and when they didn’t go inside, she went looking. Found them behind a bush, eating crackers out of a little boy’s hands. He told her his name is Harris. Matches the descriptions the father provided.”

Eddie grabs your hand, gripping it with whatever strength he has left. You feel a surge course through your veins as Hopper motions for you to follow him to his car. He turns on his siren and guns it down the road, swerving in and out of traffic to get to the old woman’s house as fast as he can.

Please, please let him be here, you silently pray, subconsciously screwing your eyes shut and holding your breath. The only thing worse than not knowing where he is might just be a false alarm that he’s been found.

Hopper slams on the brakes behind an ambulance parked in front of the Driscoll residence, their open doors allowing the fluorescent lights to stream through. Eddie watches, wide-eyed, as an EMT wheels a stretcher over to it.

A stretcher carrying Harris.

“Harris!” Eddie cries in simultaneous relief, exuberance, and fear. He instinctively reaches for a door handle, quickly remembering that he’s in a cop car and had to wait for Hopper to let him out from the outside.

You’re already crying; everything you’d been holding back to maintain a solid resolve for Eddie is crumbling as soon as you’d seen his son. You scramble out of the car, right behind him, and run to where the emergency technicians are treating Harris.

He’s awake and alert, and he spots the two of you right away. “Daddy! Ms. Sweetheart!” He tries sitting up, but a technician gently guides him to lay down again. “No, that’s my daddy and my almost-mommy!” he protests. “I gotta see them!”

You and Eddie reach him at the same time. He’s covered in dirt; it’s smudge along his cheeks, his arms, and his legs. He’s even managed to get some on the tip of his nose. Some blood is smeared on his right knee where he’s seemed to have scraped it, and the EMTs spray some antiseptic on it and apply a bandage before he can even feel the sting.

“Oh, thank God.” The words rush out of Eddie’s mouth, and he puts his palms on his son’s cheeks and presses kisses all over his face. “You’re okay, you’re okay…” He turns to the technicians, worry pinching his brows together. “He’s okay, right? There’s nothing wrong?” He pushes some of Harris’s damp curls from his forehead. There aren’t any visible bumps or bruises on his face, which eases a bit of his nerves.

One technician nods. “Right now, it seems like he’s just got some minor lacerations, but we’ll run the gamut of tests to rule out more severe injuries.” She looks over at the police chief, who stands a few yards behind you. “We’ll take it from here.”

Hopper gives a small, sad smile; it’s then that you remember that his own child had passed away nearly twenty years ago. She was only a little older than Harris is now.

Eddie follows your gaze with red-rimmed eyes, the realization setting in for him, too. “Thanks, Chief,” he says, just loud enough so Hopper can hear him. Hopper nods, placing his hat atop his head before walking away.

The EMTs check for any broken or sprained bones, shine lights into Harris’s pupils, and ask him a few simple questions to assess for a concussion. “We’ll have to take him to the hospital, just to be sure,” they say to you and Eddie, “but barring any extenuating circumstances, you should be able to bring him back home tonight.”

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Eddie breathes, crouching down a bit so he’s eye-level with his son. “Har, can you tell us why you ran away from school? You’re not in trouble; I promise.”

Harris looks down at the blanket draped across his lap. “I had really big feelings, and I tried thinking about the zoo like you told me,” he glances at you, “but then the feelings didn’t go away, so I decided to go there.”

You take his small hand in yours. “What were the big feelings?” you ask gently, free of judgment and filled with concern.

He thinks for a second, then states matter-of-factly, “Mad and sad.”

“Mad and sad?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, wiping at his nose with his free hand. “‘Cause of Ms. Marion and Ms. Paula.”

You freeze, trying to regain your composure before Harris can pick up on your uncertainty. “What happened with your teachers, Har?”

“They were saying mean things about you and Daddy, and it made me mad and sad.”

At the sound of his title, Eddie speaks up. “Mean things about us?”

“Yeah, like, that Ms. Sweetheart is probably teaching you how to read, too,” Harris explains, “and I said that they’re lying, that you’re really smart and read to me all the time. And that Ms. Sweetheart isn’t your teacher; she’s my almost-mommy.”

Eddie clenches his fists, veins prominent as his body goes stiff. His anger isn’t at the insult, but at the way they could speak so brazenly about a child’s family, disregarding the hurt it causes. He doesn’t care what those women think of him, but he’s furious that they upset Harris.

“They keeped laughing and telled me to go play,” Harris continues, getting choked up at the memory. “I tried to do my breathing and my favorite place remembering with Charlie, but it didn’t work. And I got lost going to the zoo–the real zoo, not the one in my imagination–so I hided with the cats until the nice lady found me.”

You and Eddie share heartbroken looks, pushing aside your respective emotions as you tend to the little boy laying in front of you. “Get some rest, Har Bear,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head. “You had a long day.”

He falls asleep after a few minutes, constantly checking to make sure that the two of you are still by his side. As soon as his breathing steadies and his eyes remain closed, Eddie turns to you, exhausted and running on fumes. Wet brown doe eyes pleadingly gaze at you, lids heavy with sleep. You wrap your arms around him, unable to get close enough. He moves slowly, every action a delayed reaction, but he gradually embraces you, too.

“Stay. Please.” The words are muffled by the way his mouth is mashed into your scalp, but you hear them perfectly fine. “And if we get to go home tonight, come back with us. I need you both close to me.”

“Of course.” Your own lips press against his perspiration-soaked shirt collar. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” You pull back ever-so-slightly, brushing tears from his cheeks. “He’s safe. He’s safe, and he’s here, and we get to keep spoiling and loving him.”

Eddie absorbs this as best as he can, mind still spinning as the adrenaline crash hits. There’s so much he wants to say, but for right now, he just carves out space in his body for yours. Your light whisper keeps him grounded, pulling hi away from the spiraling that usually overtakes him in times of crisis.

“I’ve got you.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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hellsslibrary · 1 year

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Hi...um oh shit. This's my first request, so sorry if it's bad... Anyway, can you write headcanons on the demon brothers going into their first heat with their alpha(Male reader)?

(If you can't it's not a problem😁)

❀Headcanons about the demon brothers and their first heat with Alpha!Male!MC❀

DNI: minors.

!!Warnings: omegaverse, heat, breeding kink, implied poly!Mc, breeding kink, praise, Dom!Lucifer, possessiveness, lactation(Lucifer), pet play(Satan), P*ss kink(Mammon), Marking, somnophilia(Belphie), Beel want to be a mother, demonic form(Levi, Belphie), Masochist Satan, Chest play(Asmo), kind of Daddy kink(?) (Asmo).

Lucifer

Probably the rarest and fastest heats in the family. Like, he just drinks pills and forgets about these heats, without even paying attention to it. But sometimes he gets too much work or stress from his brothers and forgets to take those pills and then the heat starts (literally and figuratively).

Also, probably someone who wouldn't want you to impregnate him. That's why he always takes birth control pills. He already has 6 children who annoy him every day, he doesn't need another one.

Crazy possessive, like CRAZY. He gets so clingy and jealous, he won't let you out of his nest for more than 10 minutes. And thank God, his heats lasts only 3-4 days...

Get ready to leave his nest after his heat, covered in hickeys, bites, scratches, bruises and, in general, in the marks of Lucifer. (He certainly apologizes, but not sincerely)

I guess he's very dominant in heat, so if you wanted a sub Luci ... In heat, no way.

He will just ride on your cock until he squeezes all your cum out of you and then he will keep your knot inside, not letting you out.

In general, his behavior is not much different during heat, except that he becomes even more affectionate than usual.

For example, does he see that you are hurt by his prints or are you tired? He will immediately stop doing it and calm you down (Though he won't get off your cock, nah).

I also think he's lactating during heat and his breasts swell for obvious reasons... If you're into lactation, he might even breastfeed you, lol.

Mammon

So... Probably the second most frequent and longest heat after Beel. Like, they happen often and last about a week, sometimes two.

You know right away that he's in heat when he starts texting you with whining requests, and if you're lucky, even naked photos of him.

In general, ready to let you out of his nest, but only if you come running after his first message with a request like "Mc, I want your cock again, so get your ass over here."

Becomes extremely whiny and sensitive, he can come even through some kind of petting. Literally every touch you make drives him to hell(or heaven,idk).

Probably would like you to impregnate him, but would not want children, because he is simply not ready for this, he is too insecure.

Wants you to mark him. It doesn't matter how. Just do it, he loves your marks, smell, whatever. He must know that he is yours.

He also becomes extremely honest as his tsundere nature is washed away immediately by the fact that he can't think straight and he just keeps praising you and telling you how good you are.

(Piss kink!!) Probably starting to get into piss kink, yes (if he wasn't into it in the first place, which I'm not sure about). You just know... His smell on you or your smell on him, no matter what, turns him on, and if it's such a strong smell, even more so.

Leviathan

His heat is not frequent and not fast. In general, they are quite stable and he even adjusts his game mode for them.

He becomes even more submissive than he is. I don't know how that's possible given it's literally canon, but... Just imagine having a handsome, shy, whiny boy for about 5 days that you can do whatever you want with as long as you fuck him.

He is 999 percent for fertilization. There's something so exciting about having your sperm in it, but knowing that it's literally your child/children in it... It's just awesome.

I think the sins of all the brothers in general just go to the peak during their heats, so... Damn it, he won't let you out of it, your knot MUST be in it and only in it... For a maximum of 5 minutes if your natural needs play out.

Mmm, more likely he'll be in his demon form because he's more comfortable in it and he just can't contain it, so... Pull his tail, bite and pull back his scales a bit, pet/pull/scratch him horns or stroke his double cock, he'll explode from it, hehe.

Satan

The most stable boy. Heats are about 4-5 days and always start on schedule, just wonderful and cool.

Becomes an extreme masochist during his heats, he wants you to be extremely strong and hard dominating as much as you can be.

He will also probably allow and even offer to put him on a leash and fuck him, pulling on it, ahem.

His pet play skyrockets, he becomes extremely helpful to you. You are his master and he is your GOOD kitten, so why shouldn't he follow your every order, hmm?

He will calmly let you out of the nest during heats, without even worrying, but only if it is no more than a couple of hours, it becomes difficult for him without you.

As for fertilization, he has a neutral opinion. Of course, driven by instinct, he can and will want your sperm in him. But, if you ask his sober opinion, he does not feel anything for the children. Do you want kids? Okay, fertilize him. Do not want? Okay, he'll take birth control.

Also, I suppose he is very quiet during sex or some hot moments in general, even during heat, but if you still agree to be a hard dominant for him ... Oh, Mother of God, buy earplugs for all the brothers, but better take them on vacation.

He doesn't tend to nest too often, by the way. It's just that, given how messy his room is, cleaning it all up would be such a torture.

And a random thought in the end. Loves when you eat it before you insert it. Of course, he's already wet, but he just loves the feel of your tongue in him, it just drives him crazy.

Asmodeus

Well... The most unstable heat. They always happen differently. Sometimes often, sometimes not. Sometimes it lasts a long time, sometimes it lasts a very short time. In general, everything is difficult.

It has the strongest smell of all. So strong that it can be felt even outside the home. Its sweet, floral scent is simply mind-blowing.

And it also releases an extremely high amount of natural lubrication, like seriously. By the end of his heat, the sheets will be just soaking wet.

He is flattered by the idea of babysitting his and your common children, but he completely rejects the idea of pregnancy. Stretch marks, a huge belly, a fatter build, pallor, nausea, and so on, he will just look unattractive to himself.

Also, calmly let you out of his nest. He could easily go a few hours on his own without your cock in him, although he would certainly prefer it to be you.

He has the most sensitive chest of the brothers. He just squeals with pleasure when you suck/lick/nibble on his nipples or massage/squeeze/rub his chest.

He will probably post a photo after heat, where he will be with his face fucked up on wet sheets with marks on his body and with a caption under the photo like "You know, it's so good to have a daddy in two ways." If you don't understand my chic humor, I'm sorry.

Beelzebub

Oh, in general, the most frequent and long heats. They last about 2 weeks, by the way, so good luck, mate. And usually they occur at the same time with Belphegor.

He is the biggest fan of breeding kink, on par with Levi. It's so sweet to have kids by you that he can take care of and eat with or play sports with (or whatever, he's not a picky boy)!

His appetite increases even more (And somewhere in the distance, one Lucifer sighs heavily due to the increase in food bills). Well, it's true that he also has an increased appetite for sex, so he'll just keep doing it until he squeezes all the juice out of you.

His chest swells, by the way, during heats. So... Man boobs, my kittens, man boobs.

He praises you very much during heats, and sex in general. He just loves everything you do and it brings him such great pleasure, he can't help but praise your actions.

In general, praise him in return. He's going to be so embarrassed about it, it's just a miracle.

Releases you during his heat from his nest freely. Although, after that, you will probably immediately jump into Belphegor's nest and start working with him.

In general, he has a strange thing about the fact that you call him something that is related to motherhood Mom/Mommy/Mother and so on, he blushes and is shy from this, imagining that he really can become a mother.

Belphegor

All his heats passes in a dream, like real. He wakes up for about two hours a day to eat and that's it.

So, if you have somnophilia, this is the right time for you, sir. You can just fuck him in almost any position and no one will tell you in denial.

He's in his demonic form, one hundred percent sure of it. So you can play with his horns or tail, maybe he will purr (or even moo like a cow, lol).

He doesn't really care if you impregnate him or not. He doesn't want to deal with all these pregnancy-related issues, but he'll be happy to have kids with you if you want.

He moans funny during heats. Some kind of hoarse and high moans and whining, when he lazily shakes his head in a dream, but still does not wake up.

Well, there's actually a chance he'll wake up. He just might want to eat, which is logical, and if you catch that moment and don't fuck his twin at that moment, you'll hear the most wonderful moan you've ever heard.

Also, if he wakes up, he'll get extremely territorial and leave his fingernail scratches on you to let everyone else know you were with him (and Beel, of course).

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