#women in music part iii | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redclercs · 11 months

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

iii. one for the money, two for the show.

— the one where you were never ready, so you watched him go.

warnings: war flashbacks to the miami gp, more insight into y/n (look i have to give a lot of context for my own sanity), not really proofread sorry, 2.4k words.

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FROM “WHAT’S NEXT FOR AIDAN KIM?” POSTED IN THE US WEEKLY YOUTUBE CHANNEL MAY 2023

You are looking at the top comments.

aidanbabes nooo my baby😭 he looks so sad!

flowerbedkim I swear to god y/n better count her fucking days

halleyc don’t come at me but this sounds like he proposed

ynbby why is he talking about this though? y/n has been super private and he’s telling US WEEKLY THIS?

ynaidan i hate being a child of divorce😭

Miami, Florida May 6th

GRAND Prix number two with Elix, attempt number two by Mr. Stuart Schafer to get into your pants. Can it get any worse?

Yes, yes it can. Because as long as you have “a job” you don’t have to come to these sponsor events. Which sucks for you, not having an acting job for the moment has never felt more like a punishment from the universe.

Artists, from actors to singers are here promoting their gigs while all you do, again, is take pictures with men in jeans and loafers and try not to barf every time you consume Elix.

You’re watching your career crumble in front of your eyes and you can’t do anything to save it from burning when it hits the floor. Mildred has called you several times during the course of the weekend to inform you of canceled interviews, revoked invitations and “sorry we’re just looking for something else” calls from casting agents.

Part of you is in disbelief that a five minute interview from your ex-boyfriend is feeding the fire, part of you expected it all the same. Women are the preferred villain in the narrative, and if it means putting a man above them, the media has had the choice made for a while.

Did you really have it coming, though? There have been endless comments about how it was about time people realized the type of person you are.

But what are you? Who are you really?

You’re a coward. You tell that to yourself in the mirror first thing in the morning.

Many people have the luxury to say they can’t pinpoint the exact moment where they went wrong. You can’t afford the pleasure of such obliviousness, because the exact moment everything went wrong was when Aidan got down on one knee.

And when the question that left his lips went from "Will you marry me?" to "Why won't you?" You knew there was no turning back.

Marriage wasn’t a foreign concept to you, but while it is generally seen as a milestone, for you it was just another stepping stone. The roles of The Wife and The Mother were something you might eventually grow into, but on the night of your third anniversary, you realized you weren't even ready for that of The Fiancée.

Was it genuinely a surprise for Aidan that you had to close the velvet box he was holding in front of you, hiding the diamond ring from your sight, before he dropped his other knee to the ground and whispered 'Why?'

Never, in the three years you'd been together, had you seriously talked about marriage. It was another bridge you would cross once you got there, and in your mistaken calculations, you thought it would be around the time your relationship turned five. That's the limit for romantic relationships without a ring involved according to most women's magazines, and your own mom. At least neither know the ring was the cause of the breakup.

It's a little pathetic how lucky you consider yourself that the tabloids don't know you rejected an engagement. They're cruel enough as it is, things can only go further downhill, straight to hell.

"You good?"

Your best friend in the world, Victoria Presley, is able to join you in the VIP area of the Paddock thanks to a couple pictures on instagram where she tagged Elix. God bless the era of influencers. Or, family connections. Being the daughter of Sony Music executive Luke Presley and celebrity life coach Claire Walker can open many doors. Well it isn't Vic's fault being born into a rich and influential family, at least she's doing her own thing with her beauty products.

"Yes, I am," you shrug. Q3 is going on right now and although you try your best to keep your focus on the two red cars around the circuit, you find it hard to get out of your head. Plus it's so hot in here you feel sticky and gross.

"I lost you for a moment there," she insists, sipping her glass of champagne, the eyebrow raise she gives you after means she needs more info into what was going through your head just seconds ago.

"Not getting any call backs right now," you sigh, taking the flute from her although all it would take for you to get your own is a few steps. "I'm kind of frustrated."

"I'm sorry babe," Vic rubs your back, unbothered by your stealing. "You'll get something soon."

"And E! cancelled my interview, AND—"

Tires screech and an 'ooooh' goes through the grand stands before the screens show a red car embedded in the barriers. A groan of "It's Leclerc!" passes through the people around you in the VIP Lounge.

You grimace, focused on the circuit again as Charles leaves his car, shaking his arms before hitting the halo several times, frustrated.

"See everyone has bad streaks," Vic has gotten her own champagne again and is pointing to the screen, where the Ferrari driver is being followed on his way out. "It's his second crash, no?"

Other people's disgrace doesn't soothe your own, so you give Vic a stern look, causing her to shrug.

Q3 is done and Ferrari has mixed feelings about their two drivers' results. As for you, the faster you can get back to your hotel, the better.

─────────

Vic drags you to dinner with a couple of her influencer friends. Everyone and their mother is in attendance at Miami, and they’re here to have fun.

"They're here!" the girl to Vic's left whisper-yells, stretching her neck to look over at the entrance of the restaurant.

The place has been completely full the whole time you've been here, which has been a while, you're done with your dinner and have a few drinks on you, yet Vic has begged you twice to stay 'just a little longer'.

Of course Vic is having the time of her life, talking about promotion agreements and posting schedules, and although you hang out with lots of influencers and social media stars on your daily life, you're not clicking with any of them tonight. Have you become bitter? No, of course not.

"y/n knows them, she can just introduce us," another one giggles, and she cheers with her tequila sunrise to your own half-empty drink that's resting on the table.

"Hmm, what?" you chuckle, unsure of how you missed the part where you entered the story.

"The Ferrari Drivers," the first girl answers in that 'obviously' tone you hate when people use with you. "You're with Ferrari all the time lately, aren't you?"

"I'm with Elix," you clear up, best as you can as they're not really paying attention, their eyes following the group of men that are being escorted by a hostess to their table. "So you know, it's not really—"

"But you've met them,"

"Well, yes but..."

Yes but, you've seen them in scattered moments where they nod and smile at you passing by and the three times you've had to take pictures drinking Elix. You don't even get to the coworker level of knowing them.

"Well let's go!"

"Hold on Holly," Vic speaks up for the first time, "I mean, they literally just got here."

"Which is why we came here," Holly can't seem to get rid of that know-it-all tone, and it's frankly starting to annoy you even if she has a different target now.

It's time to use the angry eyes with Vic, again,in less than 24 hours. That's why she kept asking you to wait just a little longer.

"How did you know they'd be here?" you question, although you already know what a cleveage can do to get any information you want. Can't blame a girl for using her tools.

“I have my ways,” Holly says, and does in fact, fix her cleavage. Fair enough.

"Vic..." you whisper, as the rest of them regather in their own conversation. "What's happening?"

"I just– they said they really wanted to meet the Ferrari guys, y/n," Vic half whines. She's doing the most to impress the other girls, which is a very Vic thing to do, but still you don't like it. "And since you work with them, well it would be easier to approach them, right?"

Wrong.

"I- Vic, I don't work with these guys. We don't even work for the same people, and... it would be weird to approach them while they're trying to have dinner peacefully."

You are not a big fan of interruptions because you've heard enough of your coworkers talk about how annoying it is. As for yourself, sometimes you mind, sometimes you don't. It all depends.

You can barely distinguish their table with all the movement around the restaurant, but you manage a peek at Carlos' hair. Both of them are there, surrounded by a bunch of other Ferrari guys.

"So? Let's go," Holly is speaking again, downing the rest of her alcoholic Shirley Temple.

"I have to use the bathroom," you announce, dropping the napkin that covered your lap on the table.

"Right now?" the other girl—you feel guilty for not remembering her name— groans.

You refrain from replying, and try not to stomp to the bathroom like a toddler throwing a tantrum. If there’s anything that you hate is feeling used, and it hurts a lot more when it comes from Victoria.

It’s something else when she uses her doe-eyed stare and says “please, please, please” to get her way even with you, rather than set you up to impress her other friends.

You take your time to reapply lipstick in the bathroom and soothe your annoyance. You have told Vic before that she needs to ask for things, not just push you into awkward situations. At least she didn’t follow you to the restroom.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bathroom, wondering how to go on about this. It’s very likely that things get twisted and it is you who’ll look like she wants to brag about knowing the Ferrari guys, which you’re sure they’re used to—being bragged about. But you don’t want that.

There are many clichés that you have experienced, both as a character in RomComs where the biggest makeover that is done to your character is to apply a little mascara and remove the glasses (you hate that, what’s wrong with wearing glasses?). And in real life, with big romantic gestures like receiving a bouquet with a hundred roses and one is artificial… Blah blah.

This cliché is a little more ridiculous, though, as you crash into Charles Leclerc while leaving the restroom.

“Oh, sorry,” you half-smile back at him, he’s already smiling, showing dimples and everything. You see his appeal no matter how much you don’t want to notice it. Tall, green-blue eyes and those stupid dimples. Not to mention the fact that you suddenly find accents charming. Again, stupid.

“Hey y/n,” he says still smiling, “Did you just get here?”

“Uh, no actually we’re leaving in a few minutes,” you move out of the way of a lady that wants to get into the restroom, she eyes you both for a moment before continuing on her way.

“Are you here with your friends? Or is it with Elix?”

“My friends. Thank God I get to be away from Elix for a few hours.”

Charles chuckles and the moment runs long enough to become awkward. You’re still outside of the bathrooms and another guy has too given you an off look as he made his way inside.

"Let me walk you back to your table," Charles offers as a way of breaking the silence and you shake your head no.

"You don't have to, my friends are probably on the way out already, anyway."

Are you being selfish by keeping Vic's friends away from him? It doesn't matter to you, not really. But really a small part of you doesn't want things to go their way.

Charles doesn't listen to your refusal anyway, and asks you to lead the way with a gesture.

"I didn't see you at the Ferrari Suite after Quali," he mentions as he follows you a step behind.

"I was in the VIP Lounge with a friend," you explain, "I'll be at the Suite tomorrow, though."

You stop at your table, where the three girls are still doing their best to ogle at the Ferrari guys.

"Hey," you get their attention back and not one in the three of them even attempt to hide the pleasant surprise that Charles' presence gives them. "Are you ready to go?"

It's Vic's turn to give you a look. One that tells you to not be unfair, things have just started to go as they planned.

While you return the pointed look to Vic, Holly strikes a conversation with Charles. Lightning quick.

"Let's go," you repeat, "Gotta be up early tomorrow."

"Can we get a picture, though?" the other girl—lord, if you could remember her name you'd feel a little better —adds quickly.

"Do you mind?" you ask Charles before he can reply. You don't want to make a fuss and have half the restaurant acknowledging his presence and his disposition to take pictures and sign autographs while he's trying to have dinner.

"Not at all," he shakes his head and waits patiently for everyone to be camera-ready while you stare. "Aren't you getting in the picture?"

"I'll take it," you hold your hand out for an iPhone, and get Holly's bedazzled one. Charles frowns but you just say 'okay, ready?' before pointing the camera at them.

No one else argues the fact that you're not in the picture.

A chorus of 'thank you's' passes quickly as you return the iPhone and the three influencers start checking the picture. They're probably better photographers than you, you can accept that.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, y/n," Charles leans towards you, leaving the group to their own thing after he pleased their request. "Right?"

"I'll be the one drinking Elix," you joke, half-whining.

"I'll be the one in the red car," Charles jokes back, a wide smile spreading on his face.

You laugh, fighting against the sudden shyness caused by the familiarity.

"Goodnight," he calls quietly, and the girls wish him a goodnight and good luck for the race before he snakes through tables back to his friends.

Not another thank you is directed at you as your group leaves the restaurant to wait for the Uber back to the hotel.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! thank you for reading! I'm really grateful for everyone who has interacted with this story, I hope you're enjoying it so far ♡❞

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you

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lolamarlowe65 · 1 year

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Slash x reader

“𝓜𝔂 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓷𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓷 𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓮, 𝓶𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓾𝓫𝓵𝓮.”

“She can take my soul for the record, I don’t give a shit.”

one shot x reader

disclaimers : age gap (modern day slash), smut, thigh riding, unprotected sex, overstimulation, slash’s feral internal dialogue, cursing, smoking, rough stuff, grown girls stuff <33

4.6k words

AO3 link

iii];)’ .・• ✰ ⋆

y/n pov

I started to work as a staff member for Guns n’Roses a few months ago. Everything is great as fuck. The music, the job, the mood all around the band. In overall, everything is going well. My relationships with the band members were super friendly and they made me feel quickly as if I was part of the gang. But there is one thing. One person. Him. Slash. The moment I started my job here he immediately started teasing me. Nothing big. He tells me how much of a weird chick I am, he gives me smug smiles anytime he sees me as a way of saying “here comes the freak”. It has never felt as if he hates me or anything, it just amuses him to see me rolling my eyes to his puns. When I first discovered Slash, I admit that I developed a crush on him, you know the “rockstar crush”. I didn’t start to work here for that, but seeing him almost everyday was definitely a plus, well, if he didn’t drive me crazy with his provocations. It is a plus, yes, but I actually never thought of trying anything with him. I am a younger chick in whom he’d see no interest, apart from a way of having fun. I wouldn’t mind but that would be too complicated to manage with this job. Honestly, most of the time, his jokes make me laugh. I look at him with a pissed off grin and say “haha” or I stick out my tongue. It became a game between us. To the words of Duff “leave the girl alone man”. Apparently, Slash doesn’t listen to his best friend’s advice because he never stops. If we weren’t so different or if I knew him a little better I would say he’s flirting with me. “What a weird chick you are.” sounds like a love declaration coming from a man with such an attraction for creepy stuff. I do think about it as flirting sometimes. Mostly the days when I'm not in the mood for his jokes I imagine he’s flirting with me, helps me to not actually kill him. Being with a man like him wouldn’t bother me, actually, I would love it. He isn’t only hot and cool. He is interesting, passionate, peaceful but wild and genuinely beautiful. Beautiful on the inside and on the outside.

I am a person that’s pretty impulsive. When I feel frustrated, I will go for it, even if it means breaking my own promises. I try to hold myself back, but I have no desire to be perfect. I smoke, I have a high body count, anger issues, I keep doing the same shits over and over again and failing. But I also have skills that I don’t hide, I am strong minded and the way I see it : it has never really helped me with my relationships to people. Especially men. Labeling me “weird chick” is not original Saul. I’m sure most women are like me. But the world doesn’t see it I guess.

Today, I am not in the mood. We’ve got some problems with the gears, the venue isn’t ready and my hormones are working on me. Everything in me is boiling, every emotion. I can manage my emotions and impulses, hormones are not an excuse to be an asshole. But in this type of job, you have to take a lot of shit from people you don’t like so the band themselves don’t have to. Granted, they had to confront them in order to make their band what it is today but man, this isn’t easy. So, as for today, frustration will be my motto. One person pisses me off, I will send them to their grave.

As if it wasn’t enough, we’ve asked me to bring some guitar gear in Slash’s backstage room. I have purposely avoided him since the start of my shift, which is not easy when you are working for him. So far it seems to work, changing hallways last minute, not going to the crowded places and most importantly, his backstage room. From the glimpses of him I saw thorough the day I could tell you how beautiful he looked. He always does, but today it’s working on me. Which is frustrating me even more because I want to see him as much as I want to avoid him. His style didn’t change much from any other day, the sunglasses, the leather jacket, the hat and one of those shirts he has the secret of. It’s just that today is a day where my mind said fuck off to any type of morals I may try to have and I have to manage it as best as I can.

Before going into his backstage room, I made sure he wasn’t around. As I enter the room and leave his gear I can’t help but stop in front of the mirror before heading out. I contemplate my reflection, my eyes lingering over my body. The sadder part with those days is that I feel like I can’t and will never be understood or loved. This doesn’t bother me the majority of the time because it’s probably true and I have made peace with it a long time ago. My emotions are on the verge on days like those, so I let myself grief this fact. I wouldn’t say I look beautiful. I wouldn’t say I am satisfied with my life right now. Even if it is going slowly in the right direction. I let out a tear thinking of all this and whip it away quickly.

“- Looking good y/n, trying to cosplay a zombie?” Slash laughs.

Shit. Just what I fucking needed.

“- Not today Saul.” i answer, rolling my eyes.

He is standing right behind me, I can see his smug smile and I know his eyes are playful even if they are hidden behind sunglasses.

“- Wow, Saul? Did somebody give you food after midnight?” he jokes.

I turn around and look at him with defiant eyes. He needs to be teached a lesson. You don’t piss y/n off like that. Slash or not Slash. I don’t know what I am about to do, but that’s definitely going to be interesting.

“- Fuck you. Did it ever occur to you that your teasing game might piss me off?” i ask, sassily.

“- And what are you going to do about it?” he teases, again, big smile on his lips.

“- Well… I could do that.” i say in a provocative tone.

I slowly wrap my fingers around the sides of his sunglasses and remove them off his face. I let them fall on the floor. I want to stay defiant to his eyes, I want to keep holding his gaze. Being nice and clean, putting away his sunglasses nicely is not in my scenario today. There’s a look I have never seen on him before. A fire in his eyes. He holds my gaze as hard as I hold his. My breath becomes heavier as I approach my lips dangerously to his. I can feel his chest go up and down heavily. It’s working.

“- See. Pretty annoying right?” i smile.

Fuck. The swift of breath from his lips too close to my smile is actually going to drive ME crazy. What an ass. Making me feel this way. I must stay focused. He smiles back at me, hinting his approval. He understood that we entered a game and he is letting me play. Let’s see how much I can push him before I make him mad. He doesn’t say a word, waiting for my next move. I step back and close the door. I remark that Slash is studying me, looking at my body, his stare lingering over my ass and hips. At this instant, the teasing game turned into lust.

I breathe heavily, getting him to stare back into my eyes.

“- Careful where your eyes linger big boy.” i incite, biting my lower lip.

I approach him again, purposely making him take a step back in the direction of the couch behind him.

“- I could also do that.” i smirk.

I grab his crotch. His cock hardens immediately at my grip. My pussy gets wet at this simple touch. I didn’t know how much teasing and keeping a person on edge could make me feel that much desire. Or maybe it’s Slash. Probably both, this raw, pure, lustful desire. Everything in my head is torn apart and I question everything. Did he start teasing just for fun or was he trying to hold back everything I am about to unleash right now. Was it his way of making me a part of his life? And why didn’t he make me understand this obvious desire we have for each other earlier. Fuck. I need him.

I hear him groan and get even bigger in the cup of my hand. I push him on the couch. A big guy like him wouldn’t flinch from a light push from me. I’m not weak but I did not push him very strongly. He let himself be pushed, waiting for my next move. His legs are spread and I take a seat on one of his thighs.

“- I don’t know what you want from me Saul, but I will take what I want. Is that okay?” i ask languorously.

He doesn’t talk, he just bops his head with an audacious smile, answering affirmatively to my question.

“- Good.” i chuckle.

I dispose my lips on his neck. Biting slightly making sure to leave all the spots my lips went to stay wet with my taste. I start kissing his face, all the spots I can, expect his lips, leaving him on edge, teasing him. As I do just that, I start rubbing my clothed cunt against his thigh. I feel him gasp, both for the frustration on his lips and in his pants. I leave a mark in his neck, right under his ear only for me to go above and nip alternatively on both his ears.

“- Mmmh… Fuck.” i curse in between moans.

I rub against his thigh ruthlessly, my thrusts are short but harsh and my pleasure grows more and more. My back arch and I end up using my hands to support myself on his shoulders. I throw my head back and I hear Slash groan. A frustrated groan, making me even more thrilled. Knowing that at this right moment I own him just for my only pleasure makes me even more horny. His thigh is so comfortable, imagining how his pretty cock must be almost brings me to my release.

It’s getting harder for me to hold on. I don’t want him to touch me, I want to keep him on his limit so I take it upon myself and rub as good as I can on his leg.

“- Saul! Fuck that’s good!” i cry.

I pant heavily and I feel my jeans getting soaked with my cum. My legs shake and squeeze around Saul’s leg and my cheeks are all blushed with my effort.

I won.

Slash looks like he is about to explode. Good for him. He looks mesmerized and embittered. That’s what you get for being a little bitch like that. A wild mess lost in his thought. What a magnificent view.

I kiss his lips very quickly and lightly before smiling while putting myself together. Even if this kiss was quick, I had never felt such soft comfortable lips.

“- See. That’s what you get for teasing me.” i playfully say, getting off him.

Saul stays still on the couch, his eyes on fire and I walk toward the door, happy to have pushed his limit, ready to resist his game.

Slash pov

What a fucking bitch. A beautiful mess, out of breath and still taking away mine. She is lighting herself a cigarette. Like she is gonna get away with this. I can’t hold on anymore, I have to make her mine. I have to have her all for me, I have to fuck her and make her come again but this time around my cock. I have to make her my girl.

Truth is, ever since she started working here she drives me crazy. She is one of those women that don’t give a shit. She has no mind about being perfect, she’s completely detached from reality, she does her things and she doesn’t take shit. She’s a weird chick some might say, but I absolutely adore creepy shits. Her wilderness and emotions are always so honest. I have held back for the past few months because she’s much younger than me. I’ve never felt as if I was worth dating a chick like her and I was sure she would say no. I’d rather tease her and at least have some kind of interactions with her than avoid her all the time.

Before she could open the door I push her against the wall. Her eyes look like a lost puppy. I take the cigarette out of her mouth and throw it in the ashtray on the table. She had all the time she needed to get away, but she stayed here. Back against the wall still high on her orgasm. Watching her pleasuring herself on my thigh was both a torture and delight. I wanted to touch her and make her come with my hands. She refused and left me on edge. The only thought in my head was among the lines of “What a bitch, I want her.” I come back to her and put one of my hands on her waist pushing her more against the wall and the other in her neck, my fingers playing with her jawline. I breathe close to her mouth for a few seconds, teasing her as she did. She seems to take frustration way harder than me because she looks pissed and starved, and this makes me even more out of my mind. I take her lips hungrily, I kiss her, starving for her tongue. Fuck, I shouldn’t be so crazy about her but here she is, moaning in my mouth begging for my tongue to play with hers. Such soft lips. So tender and matching mine perfectly.

“- You shouldn’t have done that y/n. I will not let you get away, so if you wanna go, go now.” i say to her, drunk on her scent.

She moans as I take the back of her thighs and wrap her legs around me. Still against the wall, I wait for her answer while kissing her collarbone.

“- Hmmm… do it.” she almost whispers.

“- Do what?” i tease.

“- For Christ’s sake! Do it! Fuck me fuckhead!” she laments.

“- Your desires are orders madam.” i answer her playfully, smiling in the crook of her neck.

I go back to her mouth, mixing my tongue with hers while I tease her thighs with my hands. I can feel her wet cunt on my lower stomach and her laments desperate to deal with this ache. To hell with it. She deserves it. I rip her thin shirt away to expose her tits to me. She will take my shirt. Fuck it. She doesn’t wear a bra and I can access her perfect tits immediately. I lick and bite them mercilessly, teasing her more and more. I can’t wait to enter her but I just want to hear her beg for me.

“- Saul… mmhm… stop.. mmh… fucking around… mmhm… and fuck me already!” she pants, out of breath.

“- I fucking love the way you curse all the time.” i tell her, biting the skin around her nipple.

I remove her pants and underwear. What a pretty sight. What a pretty cunt. I could make this my meal for the rest of my life. I’d never starve. I put her back against the wall. I want to show her how bad I’ve wanted her for the last months. I want to show her what I wanted to do to her every time she’d pass over me in a hallway. How hungry, how bad I have been craving her. I unbuckle my pants and let my dick free. Her eyes got bigger and she opened her mouth to the view of my hard cock. She looks at it like she got to have a taste of her favorite meal and it drives me crazy. I give her no time to comment before I push her head against the wall kissing her lips as I bury myself deep inside of her. She’s so fucking wet. Fucking hell. I know I’m stretching her out. I can feel it. I love it.

“- SAUL!” she gasps, gripping my back. “It’s so fucking big!”

“- Shh.. I know you can take it. Scream if you need to baby, I don’t give a shit if we hear us.” i answer, moving in and out of her.

I pound into her fast and hard, making her moan each time I shove myself deep into her. She’s so damn hot. She feels so good. That’s it. I’m taking her with me. Her face becomes a mess as she cannot seem to catch her breath correctly. Between kisses, her mouth stays wide open, sometimes, she bites her lips, letting out small whimpers. I love it rough and she’ll love it too. I can tell she already does.

“- Saul… aahh.. that’s fucking good aaahh don’t stop.” she screams.

See? Told you. I give her one last hard pound and lift her up grabbing the back of her thighs. I’m still inside her, my cock hitting her deep every step I take. Her little whines are a melody I am more than happy to work on. She tries her best to hold onto me and makes my hat fall as she moves her arms around my neck. Whatever man, I have been wearing this hat since ages, her, it’s the first time. As I throw her on the couch my dick slips out of her, leaving me without her. What kind of fucking witch is she? Seconds out of her and my cock already misses her cunt.

“- Turn around.” i command, removing my shirt.

She smiles defiantly and executes herself. I waste no time and shove my dick back into her as I push as deep as I can. I keep her head buried in the couch as I mercilessly pound into her. I hear her whimper in pleasure. My mouth next to her ear, laughing, biting it slightly.

“- This is what you fucking get when you’re being a bitch.” i whisper in her ear.

I continue my rough pounding leaving trails of kisses all along her back. I know I’m about to come, how can I not when I’m banging her? Trust me though, I’m far from being finished with her.

“- AAH SAUL! I’M COMING! PLEASE! COME IN ME! FUCKING DO!” i hear her scream, muffled on the couch.

Just what I fucking needed. Hell yeah I will my love.

Not long after I come into her pussy still pounding as I feel her legs shake and her cunt getting tighter. She fucking came all over my cock. Just like I said I wanted her to. I grab her by the hair and bring her to my chest. She turns her head to me. She’s a mess with her hair all over her face, sticking with her sweat. Out of breath and panting for air. So beautiful. So fucking beautiful, as usual. I give her a wet sloppy kiss, removing the hair out of her face.

“- Good girl.” i tease into her ear.

I put her back on my side and lift her up again to sit her on the table. I still need her. I’m hard again like a fucking horny teenager. She makes me into this sex depraved slave succubuses love so much. She can take my soul for the record, I don’t give a shit. She can be the devil, a witch or an alien. To me, she's first and for all the woman I want, the one I desire and I want to be with. Bitch, witch, baby. Something like that. And in her eyes, I’m probably just the fucking dumbass who dared touching her. That’s okay. I’m cool with it. If she always looks at me the way she does now, I’m cool with it.

Sucking on her tits, I shove myself into her again, immediately pounding her hard. Her legs shake uncontrollably so I lock them up around my waist. She lies down on the table playing with her tits, moaning and biting her lips.

“- Oh my god that’s so good. Aaahh… Continue.” she cries.

Putting my hand around her neck I bring her back to my chest. Her back arches frantically at every movement I do inside her. So that’s why she was lying down. I slow down and move little by little inside of her to see how she moves her ass and back around on the table.

“- FUCKING STOP THE TEASING ASSHOLE… AAAH” she whimpers.

She puts her arms behind my neck and lets her nails sink into my back. With her head buried in the crook of my neck I laugh and go back to my hard pace. Hearing her little cries makes me the happiest man on earth. I hold her with one hand on her back and the other in the back of her head. At this instant, it’s like she is all mine. Like she could break if I let her go.

“- There babygirl, take it all, like the good slut you are. I know you love it, don't hold back.” i kiss her forehead before leaving her head to fall back in my neck.

“- AAH FUCK YES THAT’S GOOD! I’M SO FF-UUL IT’S SO B-BIG!” she whimpers.

Her fucking voice drives me crazy. She bites and teases my neck violently as a way to show me she is still holding on. I’m sure my back is all scratched and marked by now, but i’ll let her take everything off of me if it means I can get to fuck her brains out like right now. I groan, knowing I'm almost there, when I feel her legs squeeze around my waist and her back arch I know she’s also about to come again. I embrace her tightly as I screw her as fast and deep as I can.

“- AH…MHH… HAA… HM… SAUL… YES! YES! YES!” she comes screaming my name.

I come in her again. She stays like that for a few minutes. Panting, all naked into my arms. I hear her broken voice laugh slightly.

“- So that was it… all this teasing.” she laughs again.

“- You have no idea how much I wanted to fuck your brains out, teasing me back like that was not a good idea.” i answer.

“- Oh it definitely was a good idea. And I’ll do it again.”

“- No need to. I’m not letting you go. You’re mine now.”

She moves around to be able to look at me in the eyes. Her arms still wrapped around my neck and her cheeks still all flustered.

“- I am?” she smirks.

This smirk could make me fuck her again right now. Yes she is. I have been tortured by her presence for the past few months, now that she’s here I'm not letting her go. I move around to get a cloth to clean her up with. When I go back to her I catch her shy smile as she turns her head on the side.

“- Okay.” she almost whispers, smiling slightly.

I can’t resist taking her chin to turn her head to me to kiss her deeply. There was a chance it was a pure unique act of lust for her. A chance she’d left and say “never again”. A chance I’d taste her pussy only once with my cock, trying to forget how much I want to eat her out. A chance she’d realize I was older than her and she’d get away from me. Looking at the clock on the wall I realize it’s time for the show. What a great fucking day. Fucking the chick I’ve been thinking off non stop since months, playing on stage and then get back to fucking her. The two things I love the most. After the show, I’ll steal her away and get her back with me. What the fuck is the manager gonna tell me anyway? They don’t need her as much as I do.

“- Show’s gonna start baby. Let’s get the job done.” i wink, my hands resting on her waist.

I take my shirt and put it on her. God she looks so hot in my shirt. She should only wear that. She gives me a doubtful stare.

“- It’s okay, I’m hot anyway.” i smile.

Her gaze is playful as she goes down on her knees. She licks her lips and grabs my penis in her hand. She kisses slowly the tip of my cock. I take a deep breath and her smile goes feeble.

“- See you later big boy.” she brightens up again.

Bitch.

There she puts it back in my pants to only leave me my belt to put back on. Bitch. She’s lucky I can hide my bulge behind my guitar, she’s lucky we don’t have time. On the floor, I see her grab her thong that she slides into my pocket.

“- Eye for an eye.” she teases.

This isn’t fair. I give her my shirt, she gives me a piece of art. Putting her pants back on, I light her cigarette again and put it in her mouth.

“- Always finish what you started.” i say, getting her hair out of her face.

“- Whatever.” she rolls her eyes. “Go do your job.” she stops. “Play as good as you always do.” she smiles, cupping my face in her hands.

“- Coldness with a tinge of consideration, exactly what I love.” i kiss her neck, before letting her slip away to get out.

I hear her laugh evaporate as she disappears in the hallway. I know she’s playing around, she stays composed like her legs weren’t still shaking seconds from now. How fucking cool she is.

The show went great. When I get back backstage I see her there, cheering the end of this awesome show. She put on a leather jacket. After the show, we generally answer interviews and talk with some fans to end up having a little party all together. Not as wild as in my 20s, but still not very well-behaved. Tonight, I don’t give a shit, I have other businesses to attend. I greet the guys and let them know I’m going.

“- Where you going man, something to do?” Duff asks me.

I arrive in front of y/n and lift her up over my shoulder. She gasps and laughs.

“- Yeah man, something urgent! Might take me a long time, might kill me. Just in case, y’all can start looking for a new lead!”

“- Dumbass.” i hear her answer, which makes me laugh.

I fucking love her bitchy tone.

I admit. She won.

y/n pov

Here I am, being carried around like a sack of potatoes by the man I thought I could never have. I had the best sex of my life and something tells me I’m about to get it again. If I knew, I would have teased him back a long time ago. He said I was his.

In truth, he’s mine.

iii];)’ .・• ✰ ⋆

“Face of an angel with the love of a witch”.

A/N : i wrote that when i was horny as hell, clearly came from my delusions, i love the idea of slash having this feral internal dialogue because he just wants you so bad! enjoy loves <33 (slash if you read this i’m ready for your love ;))

#slash fanfiction #slash gnr #slash fic #slash smut #slash #slash x reader #slash x you #gnr smut #gnr x reader #gnr fanfiction #gnr fic #slash imagine #guns n roses #guns n roses smut #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fanfiction #velvet revolver #saul hudson

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pedgito · 2 years

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𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. iii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: you and eddie settle into a routine, but nothing good stays that way for long, and eddie hates the sight of you with anyone but him, it’s a shame he can’t admit it to anyone but himself

cw: 18+ (minors dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink, oral (f & m receiving), protected/unprotected sex (they can’t make up their mind), lots of teasing, jason is a grade a asshole, use of tie as bindings, naughty acts while others are around, one degrading word made by the reader toward themself, eddie is a jealous baby who doesn’t know how to handle himself, tense arguments, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 10k - part one, part two, part four

The prospect of sneaking around enlightened something in Eddie—you couldn’t say you hated it, but it was a lot to take in all at once. After the agreement was settled, you both dove in head first. Eddie really couldn’t get enough, but neither could you—it was an endless sequence of sneaky note passing that would, no doubt, end in a late night hookup—sometimes pressed up against the back of Eddie’s van if he was getting too impatient, other times laid out in the back, spread out over Eddie’s lap with your hands bound behind your back by his tie; which was always tied properly around his neck now, whether by himself or by you, sneaking into his class early in the morning to make sure it was perfect—it helped him feel like he had his life together, which wasn’t the case at all.

He’d also, by some stroke of luck, had kickstarted a string of shows on the outskirts of Indians, away from Hawkins population and their prying eyes, their notoriety being spread by word of mouth until he was spending almost every weekend playing his heart out with his band—it’s what he always wanted initially, but life had other plans.

He had to grow up, graduate, get a job and force himself through college; make something of himself—and maybe he had, but it was never what he wanted. He enjoys his life now, the stability and the ability to help others, even if momentarily. It’s why he chose the course of study he did—it wasn’t throwing darts at a board and picking the one it landed on, it was always intentional. But at this point, he felt stuck.

No one knew he’d enrolled himself into being a professor, surprising even himself that he’d enjoyed it as much as he did, even if the entire concept and uniform drove him nuts—it helped keep him afloat, and more recently, led him to you.

It’s like, after a lifetime of horrible outcomes, things were finally starting to turn around for him—even if it was all only temporary.

You also watch all of us shows, never missing a single one, not in the two months string that follows your initial agreement—school, Eddie, more school, and more Eddie—it was a cycle that you fell into easily.

He was highly insatiable on the nights after a show, more handsy and needy than usual, propping you up in the passenger side seat, legs hung over his shoulders as went down on you—it was almost too much.

“Eddie,” You pant, one hand forced behind you to keep yourself upright, the other cradling the back of his head as he licked into your cunt, the shlick sound of your wetness so loud against the dim rumble of the music coming from the bar, “—fuck, what if we get caught?”

“They’re busy,” His bandmates—his friends, buried in copious rounds of shots courtesy of some eager women who latched onto them the moment they stepped off the stage, Eddie could care less, though—he had more important things to worry about, “yeah—use my face, baby.”

Baby. It was new, too new—but it had your stomach twisting in knots, a gentle throb in your cunt as the words left his lips. It sounded so sweet falling from his lips, almost like he meant it.

You whine softly, gripping his hair gently to arch yourself further into his mouth, letting him suck at you greedily, the tip of his tongue sliding against your clit, pushing you further into the pleasure high you were drowning in, your underwear wadded into his hand as he gripped your thigh with the other, pulling you wider and wider, massaging at the soft flesh.

“Louder,” He comments, mouth molding around your clit to suck gently, a jolt of electricity running through you as you gasped loudly, pulling harshly at his hair, “that’s it, good girl.”

You nod idly, arm giving out on you as you fell back, grinding absently against his face, allowing him to do most of the work—Eddie knew just how to work you up until you were breathless and exhausted, willing to let him take over, and you were, so he did.

“Don’t have time to fuck you like I want,” He tells you, mumbling against your cunt in a way that has you clenching around nothing—the heat of his breath was enough to nearly send you over the edge, “so I guess this will have to work.”

You didn’t care—it couldn’t get better than this.

You moan outwardly as his pace quickens, bringing you over the edge quickly, cunt spawning against his mouth as you come, the faint, teasing laugh he lets out as you fall over the edge was enough to drive you mad.

“You’re too good at that.” You comment idly, chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” He points out, allowing you to slip your underwear back on, hands intertwining in yours to sit you upright.

“Oh?” You push, knowing who he was referring to, but only wanting to mess with him further.

“Yeah—“ His hands slide against the outside of your thighs, pulling your core flush against him, the hard line of his cock that showed through his jeans pressed perfectly up against your cunt, “she’s loud, the fucking mouth on her, and she tastes like honey—that pussy is so sweet, can’t get enough of it.”

“I think you’re drunk,” You laugh softly, letting Eddie pull you in for a light kiss that quickly turns into more, your thighs widening to let him grind up against you, his tongue diving into your open mouth, feeling you out, “or tipsy, at least.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, “Just wanna fuck you,” He pleads, nudging at you neck with his nose, leaving short, biting kisses against your skin, “gonna let me?”

You make a small noise of amusement, pulling him away to look at you, his head heavy in your hands as he bares the weight of it against you, “Not tonight, you remember the deal.”

“I know,” He pouts cutely, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you, “not before semester finals, I remember.”

It was the one thing you both decided on—after the incident in his van, you knew it was better to hold off and keep things less complicated—not that this was much better, but it kept you focused, and Eddie would hang himself over you all day if you let him.

“Time to go?” You suggest softly, catching the faint smile that graced his face.

Part of you wishes he’d take you back to his place, but he never offered—you didn’t try to pry either, it didn’t seem like a good idea.

“Yeah, get in.” He suggests quietly, waiting until you’re seated inside the van fully to close the door, jogging quickly to the driver’s side.

Eddie knew exactly what was in store for him, it was the best part about his weekend drives with you, off the adrenaline of performing and wanting nothing more to sink himself inside of you—he settled for your mouth, which was just as good.

“You focused?” You ask, watching as his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, leaving enough room between his body and the front dash for you to fit—you know, if you wanted to.

You absolutely did.

He nods, rewarded with the gentle glide of your hand over the crotch of his jeans, fingers finding the zipper easily, and unbuttoning his pants just as quickly, a great relief from the pressure that was constraining his hard cock, sighing openly when you take him in your hand.

“Easy,” He warns, knowing that if he got worked up to fast he would have to pull over and you were on a tight schedule—because despite how badly you wanted to stay out all night, you both had responsibilities, “go slow.”

You nod dutifully, leaning over the length of the console to rest comfortably, his right hand pulling from the steering wheel to cover the expanse of ass, squeezing lightly until you were mouthing lightly at the base of his shaft—finally, exactly where he wanted you.

He hums softly, the quiet hum of the radio drowning out the rough sounds of rubber against pavement, but not enough to overpower the sounds that you made as you worked him over, your tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his dick, mouth closing gently over the tip to suck, earning a small grunt of approval, his fist clenching tightly against your ass, the cold sting of his rings biting at your skin.

“Uh—oh, fuck—more, baby. You can fit more, can’t you?” He asks encouragingly. He knows you can, looking down at you briefly with dark eyes, glazed over with pleasure and a familiar sense of dominance. He didn’t let it out often, or by much, but you knew it was there. It was thrilling, but still secretly terrifying—you wanted to know all about him.

You nod obediently, your plush lips sliding against his ruddy tip, tongue poking out to swipe at the slit, tasting the small bead of precome, his heady scent from the earlier performance only urging you on, wanting to make a mess of him.

His hand grasps the back of your head gently, settling into your soft strands, pushing and guiding until he’s nearly settled at the back of your throat, you eyes closing in an attempt to focus, breathing deeply through your nose—it’s the soft nudge of his cock that has you gagging slightly, pulling back to take a breath, before diving back in, taking him into your mouth fully, a small whine tearing from his throat as your hand moves to his balls, cupping them lightly. He’s never been one to care much for the attention, but you treated him like royalty, making sure he was just as satiated as you were after your weekly hookups—it was only fair.

“God, I wanna fuck that mouth so bad,” He sighs, his hand coming around to pull at the edge of your mouth gently where your cock is stuffed inside, “hold your hair back and make you take it, that sound good?”

You nod weakly, willing to agree with just about anything he says. But, the idea isn’t lost on you—you wouldn’t mind at all.

“Shit, sweetheart—“ He says, hand flying up to grip the steering wheel as you swallow involuntarily, you pull back for a short breath, tongue trailing up the length of his dick until he’s cursing again, hips bucking up into your mouth.

You hear the engine rev slightly, car jolting forward unexpectedly, Eddie’s quick to grab you, though—his hand soothing at the back of your neck in reassurance, “I said slow, remember?”

“Sorry,” You mumble against his skin, the words only half true, “couldn’t help myself.”

The van pulls to a stop at some point, interior illuminated by red light, Eddie shifts the car in park unexpectedly, giving him full range and motion to grab at you, fingers twisting in your hair wildly, groaning out at the overwhelming sensation of your mouth as you swallowed him down steadily, thoughts too cloudy to focus on the road—he’s thankful that the streets are so empty at this time of night, dick twitching as you moaned, letting him guide your head down his shaft willingly.

“Fuck—gonna come, sweetheart.” He warns tensely, jaw clenched. He’s pulling gently at your hair, hoping you’ll get the message, but you ignore it, bringing him right to the edge and letting him spill into your mouth, the guttural groan he lets out shooting straight to your core, “shit—you didn’t have to do all that.”

You pull back with a satisfied grin, swallowing what remained of him in your mouth, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth innocently, his eyes melting at the sight. You were a goddamn prize, the rarest of the bunch.

His thumb pulls gently at your lip, rubbing the pad of his finger against the skin, your own eyes lighting up, “You can never hold out, can you?”

“It’s just too good,” He admits shamelessly, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh softly, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against his lips—it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, tasting himself in your mouth, but the thought sends a tinge straight to his dick.

It takes another half hour to finally arrive at campus; Max is fuming when she has to open the door for you, key forgotten on the floorboard of Eddie’s van, unbeknownst to you.

☆.｡.:*

So, naturally, you wake up in a panic—thinking it’s probably lost on the dingy floor of some crappy bar out of town, never to be seen again.

“You two are ridiculous,” Max complains, rubbing at her tired eyes as she forces herself out of bed, “next time you show up after midnight with no key I’m ignoring you.”

“Max,” You plead, hoping she wasn’t as upset as she sounded, “I’m sorry.”

“No—next time: no key, no entry, you sleep on the floor outside.”

“You wouldn’t,” You counter, perched up in your bed as your eyes follow her around the room, her figure disappearing behind the bathroom door, “Max?!”

“I absolutely would,” She shouts back, “try me!”

And you know she’s capable, so it’s crucial that you find the key—rather than accepting your fate and begging her to make another copy. You just hoped that, by some miracle, Eddie might have it.

When you arrive at class, your usual seat is taken—it’s been nearly four months and not a single time has this happened, until now. You approach the individual hastily; despite the lack of assigned seating, it still felt like it was rightfully yours and you weren’t going down without a fight.

Eddie hasn’t even arrived yet, the classroom filled with the hushed conversations of other students. You clear your throat, tapping the boy on the shoulder, his thick letterman feeling sticky against your finger.

“Excuse me,” You chide, voice sounding a little harsh, “that’s my seat.”

He rounds on you, pale blue eyes staring back intensely, a small strand of his blonde hair falling over his forehead. He’s got the type of smile that would scare away who was shy, not willing to confront their problems, but that wasn’t you.

“I don’t see your name on it.” He smirks, leaning back in the seat, legs spread wide for good measure.

“Good one,” You say, forcing a smile, “move.”

“No.” He replies confidently, a smile turning into a tooth-filled grin, clearly enjoying how much it was bothering you.

“You’re new to class, right?” You ask, ignoring his scrutinizing gaze. “This is your first day?”

He nodded silently, eyes taking a noticeable glance along your body—he wasn’t unattractive or creepy, he was just infuriating and not at all the good kind.

“Then you don’t know that I sit there everyday,” You explain, voice calm despite that annoyance that flooded through you, “so I’d really appreciate it if you’d move.”

He laughs, head tilting up to make another snide remark, “Look, I—“

Eddie calls out to him, setting his bag on his desk, “Jason, right?” He asks curiously, staring down at the paper on his desk, “Up here.” He orders, fingers motion for him to move toward the front of the classroom.

You smile snidely, watching him remove himself from your desk, taking your rightful seat back.

Eddie only talks to him for a few minutes, handing him a small stack of papers, before Jason is returning to your row, claiming the seat beside you, much to your dismay.

“Actually,” He takes a moment, examining the desk, his eyes trailing over to your exposed legs before landing on your face, “I think I like this one better.”

“Sure, whatever.” You say nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze and you stared at the board, chin resting in your palm—at least there was your professor to look at, keeping your mind off of the constant gaze of your classmate, who despite being obnoxiously rude and condescending, still participated in the class.

He answered questions correctly, engaged in discussion, it was almost like he actually cared for the subject and wasn’t just forced here—still, you wanted to shove him flat on his perfect face, tired of the way he stared right through you; he was up to something, but you weren’t sure what. When class nears its end, he turns to you.

“Hey,” He calls out, your name lingering on his tongue weirdly—you hadn’t even told him, “hold on.”

His face contorts up in a look of confusion, almost like he’s battling with himself, confused on what he wants to say.

“Look—I wasn’t trying to be an asshole,” He admits, which falls on deaf ears, “I’m sorry.”

“Apology not accepted.” You snark back, arms crossed over your chest.

“I’ve seen you, around,” He states, “that’s how I know your name.”

Still weird, but you take the bait. Your eyebrow quirks up in question, urging him to continue.

“Your friend Max—I’m friends with Lucas, the guy she’s been hanging out with,” It makes more sense, but not much, “I just—I thought you were cute, so I was teasing, I didn’t think you’d take it so harshly.”

“You call that teasing?” You ask, amused at his horrible attempt to correct his behavior. “Gross.”

“I’m not used to, you know,” He does a back and forth motion between the two of you with his hand, “—girls usually just smile and laugh, they don’t really argue back.”

“What point are you trying to prove?” You ask desperately, tired of this pointless circle of conversation, “That you’re terrible at flirting? Is that why you took this class? For desperation, hoping that I would take one look at you and fall in love?”

“I mean—not fall in love, necessarily,” He says dismissively, “I am interested in the class, I just…thought it would be cool to get to know you.”

You were going to kill Max the moment you laid eyes on her.

You force a tight smile. “I don’t make friends easily, and I’m not nice—so it’s better if you just stay away from me.”

He doesn’t even get a word in before you’re scampering away, avoiding Eddie’s unknowingly heated gaze, averting right to Jason the moment you’re gone.

Unfortunately for you, Jason liked the challenge.

☆.｡.:*

“You did what?” You question tensely, eyes narrowing at your red headed friend.

“He asked if you were single,” Max explains, “I said yeah.”

“Why?”

Max throws her hands out in defeat, “I mean, you are? Aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then?” Max snarks back suddenly. “What’s the big deal?”

“Are we ignoring my complicated situation with Eddie?”

“You two are just screwing around,” Max points out, “who cares?”

You rub your hands over your face in frustration, allowing yourself a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. It was no better if you took any of this out on Max, who was just trying to help you out—her intentions were never meant with harm, but it had created a difficult and dangerous domino effect.

“He’s not that bad,” Max points out, “Lucas says he’s really cool.”

“He’s the captain of the basketball team—of course Lucas thinks he’s cool.” You point out obviously. “I’m screwed, Max—screwed.”

“Just go on a date with him,” She suggests, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head at the idea, “hey, don’t look at me like that—you might change your mind. Besides, you don’t owe Eddie anything. Didn’t he say that he wanted to keep things casual?”

You nod regretfully.

“So?” Max shrugs, “Fucking live a little, go on a date or two, you don’t have to sneak around at night with him, at least.”

“You are the one who pushed me toward getting closer to Eddie, don’t you remember?”

“I just want you to be happy, babe.” Max replies honestly. “Keep your options open, that’s all I’m saying.”

And you hated yourself for even considering it, but you definitely were.

☆.｡.:*

Jason propositions you the next morning.

“A movie,” He suggest, “just one, and if you hate it, I’ll never bother you again.”

It didn’t seem convincing, but you tilted your head, considering your options. You can’t remember the last time you’ve ever been treated to a proper date; doted on or showed off, engaging in genuine conversation or just being able to hold someone’s hand in public. Eddie always made you feel butterflies, but it wasn't because of gentle touches or sweet words of acknowledgment—it was the rough texture of his fingers as he pressed them inside of you, your cunt clenching around them like they were meant for you.

Eddie didn’t look at you out of love, it was all lust.

You’re startled out of your own thoughts by someone bumping the back of your chair—it was Eddie, unfortunately, forcing himself behind you to reach another student who was concerned about their assignment. His eyes didn’t linger on you, immediately tracking to Jason, who’s smile was beaming, inherently charming in a way that made you want to vomit.

“So,” Jason urges, voice covered in a saccharine sweet tone that made you sick, but you couldn’t help wanting to try it out—even if it went horribly, you could still rub it in Max’s face, “one date?”

Eddie’s head pivots immediately, eyes burning holes into the back of Jason’s head. You catch his scrutinizing line of sight, shooting him a confused look. He’s never reacted so openly in front of students, it’s almost startling.

Eddie catches himself though, reeling it back in like it never happened—but you knew it was going to emit something, you just weren’t sure what.

“I don’t know,” You say unsurely, watching Eddie’s shoulders shift uncomfortably, “let me think on it?”

“Can you let me know by tomorrow?” Jason asks, a small glint of hope in his eyes.

“Uh—I’ll try.” You tell him, turning in your chair to suffer through the rest of the period.

Eddie doesn’t glance at you once—but he doesn’t let you leave as easily, hand clasping around you arm after everyone has already departed.

Truthfully, you just wanted to leave—you weren’t even in the mood to be around him right now, not with his sudden, silent outburst at Jason’s question. You didn’t owe Eddie anything.

“Are you going to?” He asks, removing his hand after a moment, shuffling through a pile of papers on his desk to seem busy—watchful for prodding eyes.

“Going to what?” You ask dumbly, it wasn’t that hard to guess.

You feel the tension radiating off of him, a small tinge of jealousy in the way he laughs as a response, eyes flicking up to catch sight of your own.

“You know what,” Eddie decided, “you should.”

“Go on a date with Jason?” You ask.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to—you weren’t even sure if you did, either. It wasn’t a concern, but to Eddie, it clearly bothered him.

“Yeah, go,” He tells you, almost like he’s attempting to order you, which doesn’t sit well, “enjoy it.”

“Why are you acting like that?” You ask suddenly, slamming your hand against the stack of papers, the sound of it driving you insane, “Do you have a problem with it?”

You weren’t a thing. He shouldn’t have one.

“No,” He lies, “—but go, seriously.”

“You know what? No.” You decide, frustration flooding your body for the millionth time that day. “You don’t get to order me around, not like this.”

Eddie takes a step closer, face nearly inches from your own—it was dangerous, but he needed to get the message across.

“I’m telling you,” He orders, “go on the date.”

“And if I don’t?” You ask snidely, head cocking to the side.

“You will,” He says confidently, “you want to.”

It was pure curiosity really, a small bit of self indulgence—you didn’t even like Jason that much, but it still seemed harmless. And if that was what Eddie wanted, you’d give it to him.

“I’ll pick you up after,” He tells you, a reminder of your weekly weekend activities, “and you can tell me all about it.”

He’s got a smirk on his face, riddled with something you can’t quite put your finger on—it’s intriguing, sure; but his gaze is hot, like he wants to destroy you.

And honestly, you’d let him.

You rushed after Jason only a few minutes after leaving Eddie, still reeling from how intensely he’d approached you.

“I’ll go,” You pant out, grabbing at his crisp letterman jacket, “just once, that’s it.”

“Cool,” Jason nods, “Okay.”

“And I have to be back by nine,” Jason looks at you quizzically, “Max will lock me out of our dorm otherwise.”

And it dawns on you then, you’ve been so caught up between Jason and Eddie that you didn’t even think to ask Eddie about the key; but the day prior or today. It felt like you were losing your mind.

You didn’t need to be home by nine, either—Jason didn’t need to know that, but, like Eddie said—he still planned on seeing you afterwards, so it could wait until then. The chances were slim to none, anyways, so you tried not to focus on it too much.

“I can do that,” Jason agrees, his entire demeanor changing before you. He looked appreciative, happy—you didn’t know what to make of it, “I’ll pick you up at six?”

You nod, lips pulled into a tight smile.

It was worth a shot—what’s the worst that could happen?

☆.｡.:*

The date couldn’t have been worse if you tried—Jason, despite his valiant effort, didn’t have much to talk about, other than his feeble attempts at trying to make a move on you. You should have expected it, really—all those boys on the basketball team were always the same, with the exception of Lucas. There was one goal in mind—sex. Jason was no different.

“If you wanted to have sex, you couldn’t just asked.” You snark rudely, forcing yourself away from where he’d pulled you against him in the front seat of his car, “It makes you look less desperate for it.”

“Would it have worked?” Jason asks curiously, clearly annoyed by his failed advances.

“No—not a fucking chance.”

“You’re all the same,” Jason remarks, “just get the fuck out of my car.”

You didn’t even have a ride home, but you had no other options. You leave him without a word, slamming the door for good measure, desperately trying to think up how you were going to find a way back to your dorm—no one was going to drive you home at this time of night, it was pointless even thinking that someone would be willing to do so.

But it dawns on you soon after, digging in the pocket of your wallet that was stuffed in your back pocket—you’d kept his number tucked away, just in case you ever needed it. You didn’t think you ever would, truthfully, but there was no better time like the present.

And even if he was upset with you, you knew he’d drop everything to help you out—it was just the type of person Eddie was.

There’s a pay phone a half a mile down the road, barely in working order as you stuff the coins in the slot, dialing his number desperately—praying, hoping that Eddie picks up.

“Who is this?” He answers initially, his normal and calm timbre of voice gone. He sounds upset, almost—bothered or annoyed, you couldn’t place which one.

“It’s me,” You answer quietly, “Can you pick me up? I’m kind of stranded.”

Left behind, pushed to the side, it was all the same.

“Where are you?” He asks, voice still caring that intensity behind it. You tell him the address, rambling off some other noticeable landmarks in hopes that he’ll piece it together.

“I’ll be there in ten, don’t move.”

You weren’t even thinking about it, perching yourself against the curb of the street, knees pulled to your chest as you sat, waiting—Jason a distant, fleeing memory; that was too good to be true and you should’ve seen it from a mile away.

Your naivety always got the better of you—constantly giving people the benefit of the doubt.

Eddie rolls up slowly—he doesn’t get out or roll his window down, thankful for the dark tint of his car, for once. You knew it wasn’t safe, even in this area, littered with several students—even if they didn’t take his class directly, they would easily be able to spot him.

“Thank you.” You mumble softly, a simple acknowledgment of appreciation. Eddie doesn’t respond, his fingers white knuckling the steering wheel.

He was upset, that was fine—though, could it really be justified?

He drives for what feels like eternity, missing his exit, passing it up without a thought. “Where—where are you going, Eddie?” You ask softly, glancing over at him wearily. You didn’t feel unsafe with him, that wasn’t possible, but he’s never gone this way.

“My place,” He answers softly, glancing over at your fidgeting hands, pulling at the sleeves of your shirt nervously, “you can stay there tonight.”

“Oh—okay.” You try not to let him see how your eyes light up the prospect, seeing the inside of his place or just the very idea of being allowed that privilege—seeing a small glimpse into his life.

“Besides, your key is there,” He adds, making the choice not to touch you, knowing that it would likely calm you and he wanted to keep you on edge, squirming, making you feel as anxious as he did about you date with Jason—even if it was for vastly different reasons, “I forgot to give it back.”

You nod gently, “I thought I left it at the bar last weekend.”

“It fell on the floorboard,” He admits, “—you okay?”

It’s a sudden inclination that he was still worried, even if he wasn’t trying to show it. And you were okay, in a sense, but you still felt off—Jason had managed to ruin a good night, something you had a lot of hope for, and now you were forced to sit in the car with Eddie, who seemed just as upset as you.

“I’m fine.” You settle on, wanting to melt into the seat and disappear, letting the silence overcome the both of you, riding the rest of the way without speaking a word.

Eddie doesn’t live far from campus, surprisingly—nestled into a small apartment complex on the edge of the busy, bustling college area. It kept him close, but not close enough that he’d run into students—plus, he’s never had a place to himself before, it was a weird experience for him.

You follow silently, up a couple flights of stairs, watching as he turned the key in the lock and slipped the door open, motioning you inside before him, the soft glide of his hand against your back as you brushed past—it burned like fire, but you tried to ignore it.

Eddie couldn’t not touch you, it was an inherent part of his nature now, but he can’t help the flood of jealousy that runs through his body at the thought of you being out with Jason tonight—entertaining the idea in general. You didn’t owe him anything, he knew that, but it drove him insane—you being with anyone else but him, regardless of how; it made no sense to you, but all the sense to him.

He needed to take his frustrations out the best way he knew how.

Eddie’s apartment is spacey but packed to the brim with tons of items he’s collected over the years and no doubt, probably brought with him from home—it fit with him perfectly; all over the place, but still managed to make perfect sense. You wanted to look around, familiarize yourself with the place in case you never saw it again, but Eddie doesn’t really give you a chance, his fingers coming to wrap around your wrist and pull you to him.

His hands roam the slope of your ass, gripping at your thighs until you wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to lift you to the top of his countertop, in the kitchen that’s squeezed just beside the entrance of his apartment. You squeal slightly, the squeeze of his hands on your soft flesh as he pulls you to him is enough to make you lean forward to kiss him in earnest, but you don’t make it.

Eddie leans away slightly, just out of reach. “What are you doing?” His time is accusatory, harsh. You frown slightly, confused at his words.

“Kissing you?” You say, “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“You’re supposed to tell me about your date.” Eddie tells you, his hands traveling up to grip your face gently, thumbs rubbing tenderly at the sides of your jaw, his touch gentle despite his mood.

“It was—boring, I guess.” You shrug, “That’s why I called you. I wanted to leave.”

“So—why didn’t you ask him to drive you back?” He asks curiously, eyes narrowing on you, a small tilt of your head as he adjusts his hands back.

“He—“ You hesitate, wondering how Eddie might react, “He kicked me out of his car.”

“That's all?”

You shake your head gently, lips pulling together in a tight line, contemplating your next words. “Uh—he wanted to have sex with me.”

“And what did you say?” Eddie asks, fingers tentative and careful against your skin—your legs squirm at his sides.

“I—I said no.” You tell him honestly, “Why would I want to?”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know—you went on the date with him, didn’t you?”

You pull back suddenly, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, thinking back to his earlier words. “You told me to—you didn’t really give me much of a choice, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs softly, a soft chuf through his nose. “Wasn’t what you hoped for it to be, was it?”

“Is that why you pushed me to go?” You asked, voice ticking up an octave, Eddie leans back with a faint smirk, enjoying himself too much. “You wanted me to feel like this?”

“You’re the one that entertained the idea, you know.” Eddie points out, pushing back into your space as you pull away. “I just had to make sure you knew it was a terrible one.”

“You’re an asshole.” Your words laced with venom, Eddie nearly laughs in your face.

“Yet—,” Eddie shrugs, tilting his head slightly to stare intensely, “you still called me.”

Your face scrunches up in frustration. “Fuck you.”

Eddie squeezes your face between his hands suddenly, cheeks squished until your lips are pushed out, the skin underneath his grip turning red. “Yeah, you should.”

Your cunt pulses at thought, despite your anger—it seemed like a horrible, running theme with Eddie. He was determined to fuck the hate right out of you, but you weren’t letting go that easy—if he wanted intense, you’d return it back tenfold.

“I thought we had an agreement,” You say tensely, voice muffled by the grip he had on your face, “are you giving in that easy?”

“We never agreed on sleeping with other people,” Eddie points out, but it seemed pointless; this wasn’t a relationship, “I guess you just couldn’t handle yourself, could you?”

“Are you trying to call me a slut?” You ask accusatory, shoving his hand away from your face. “Because one guy was flirting with me in front of you?”

Eddie stalks back slightly, hand curling at his side in a slow, rising flood of temptation and hate, wanting to put you both out of your misery—he just doesn’t expect to be called out.

“I thought you said this was casual, Eddie.” You remark, adding emphasis on his name as you step forward, shoving a single finger into his chest—he isn’t fazed, unfortunately. “I thought—well, I could fuck whoever I want.”

Your head tilts down, eyes narrowing in his direction.

“Does that bother you?”

Yes, he wants to say. But instead, he shakes his head.

“Prove it,” You challenge, slipping the jacket off your shoulders, throwing it directly at his chest, “fuck me like it doesn’t bother you at all.”

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could—he shoved that thought deep down.

Eddie wastes no time in picking you up, throwing you lazily over his shoulder, squirming against the tight grip he had on you, yelling from him to put you down—but he’s dropping you against the bed in his large studio apartment and it feels too intimate.

Maybe you should forget all of this happened—leave, close the door behind you and never look back, but Eddie’s pulling at your shoes, the edge of your jeans, panties disappearing with it until you're naked from the waist down, and his mouth is on you instantly.

You cry out at the contact, overwhelmed by the suddenness as he falls to the bed with you, spreading your legs as wide as they could go. “This what you want?” Eddie asks accusingly, voice a low rumble against your cunt. You shake your head profusely, mouth hung open on a silent gasp, hand fisting into the hair at the back of his head, using the leverage to grind against his mouth, his nose bumping against your clit in surprise.

“Want you,” You moan out, his mouth disconnecting from your cunt to bite at the inside of your thigh, sucking a deep, purple mark into the skin—he does it again, and again, until the inside of your thighs are nothing but a sea of reminders that he had you right where he wanted you, “—need you.”

Need you, he feels the internal tug at the words—how desperate you sound, how willing you were to let him destroy you, corrupt you; he could have his way with you and you’d let him.

He pulls away, eyes dark and intimidating—you almost can’t stand looking at him like this, his bangs flowing down over his forehead, slightly obscuring his view, mouth parted slightly but his lips flushed a beautiful pink from how intensely he was attempting to torture you, bring you to orgasm before he even had the chance to slip inside you—that wasn’t going to happen though, not if you had a say in it.

“What happened to your rule?” He teases, arms climbing up your body until he’s settled over you, the front of his jeans pressing against your bare cunt, grinding slowly, providing just enough friction to drive you mad.

“Fuck the rule, Eddie.” You retort, voice steady as you stare at him, tired of everything he’d put you through today, the past few weeks—and god forbid, making you start to like him, beyond the point of a meaningless hook up. “You wanted me to go on that date so I’d be miserable—you wanted me to come back here and grovel, tell you how much I hated it. You don’t get that—either fuck me or take me home, you choose.”

“Turn over.” He demands, leaning down to press his lips against the shell of your ear—he wasn’t sure if he could stand to look at you, right now. It wasn’t because he was mad or upset, but the idea of being able to look at you, willingly let him connect with you in such an intimate way, it was almost too much to handle.

He shouldn’t have brought you back to his apartment—he shouldn’t have, and even so, he didn’t want to accidentally cross another line—despite how badly he wanted to watch you fall apart underneath him; that was the part of him that wanted, so deeply, to keep from falling for you.

You flip onto your stomach, feeling his hands squeeze your legs, ass, settling on the dip in your lower back as he pulls you up, using one hand to wrestle with his belt, yanking at the front of his jeans until he could free himself, a small sigh of of relief as he slips his boxers down enough that he can palm his aching cock—you were getting impatient, rightfully so.

“Eddie,” You press, coming up on your hands to lock back at him—he presses you back down in an instant, face shoved against the pillow as his fingers slip inside of you, two fingers curling against your walls, an intense sensation that has you clenching around his fingers, desperate for him to be inside you, “—oh, fuck.”

“Be quiet,” He chides, “don’t say anything unless I speak to you, got it?”

It was all too familiar. You weren’t as good at following the rules though, unfortunately—if the situation you were in wasn’t already a testament to that.

Eddie doesn’t appreciate the silence, his hand fisting into the back of your hair to angle your head upwards—you grunt at the harshness of it, but it was far from uncomfortable, “I asked a question. Answer it.”

“Yes—yes, okay.” You stutter out, the mix of his fingers and his intense demeanor giving you whiplash, it was impossible to focus on one thing. He pulls again—he just wants to hear, even if it’s the last time. “Fuck—yes, yes sir.”

At this point, it seems like he’s doing it to demean you, humiliate you—but you weren’t even sure you cared anymore.

Eddie laughs softly, releasing your hair gently until your head hits the pillow, pulling his fingers away from you slowly, reaching over you toward his bedside, pulling at a long strip of condoms shoved into the drawer there—it made you wonder; how much sex was he really having?

Was it just you? Maybe it shouldn’t matter, Eddie could sleep with whoever he wanted—the thought crosses your mind, invades it, and you’re not sure why.

He tears the foil with his teeth, discarding the trash haphazardly on the bed, slipping the condom down his cock with ease, before pressing himself up against you suddenly, allowing himself to press against your aching center.

You want to beg, plead with him—but he can sense it, finally putting you out of your suffering and pushing inside of you, right to the base, your body remembering him perfectly, cunt molding to him like he was meant for you.

You muffle your moan into the fabric, the slight change of angle as he pulls your hips up, slamming into you in one quick, harsh movement—it was exactly what you needed in that moment. Quick, mindless, intense—you wanted to lose yourself in it.

Eddie’s groaning loudly above you, no effort to stifle how badly this was affecting him too, his hand traveling up to pressing against the back of your head again. He didn’t try to fist his hand into your hair again, the edge of anger he had in that moment had dissipated, replaced with need for release.

“And you wanted me to wait,” He laughs bitterly, “—that’s torture, sweetheart.”

You whine softly, his right hand gripping your hip roughly, aiding your hips in the desperate slap of skin and against skin, feeling useless against the hold he had on you.

“No one deserves this pussy like me.” He says confidently, “No one can take care of you like I do, right?”

You shake your head furiously, the small telling grip as he winds his hand into your hair is a warning. Answer, think.

“No, no—no one can.” You say brokenly, gasping at a sharp thrust of his hips.

“And definitely not some trust fund college kid,” Eddie spits back, “—you—you want to go out and find someone else to fuck, go ahead and try, but I guarantee you won’t find anything better.”

“Don’t want to.” You mumble quietly, low enough that you don’t even think he can hear it, but he does—it almost halts him completely, but he shoves the thought away.

He’s relentless in his thrust, attempting to fuck his frustration out through you—it’s almost too much, your hands griping at the sheets in desperation, begging for any type of relief, even a break, just a moment to collect yourself.

“Please, Eddie,” Your voice is soft, “slow—slow down, please.”

Eddie almost forgets what he’s doing, so lost in his own release of emotion that he doesn’t realize that you’re almost in tears, a hand flying back to grasp for his wrist, begging him to loosen his hold, slow down, or at least take a moment—and he feels horrible.

He hates how nothing you two ever do is out of pure enjoyment, always riding off of some estranged since of anxiousness or anger toward each other—and Eddie just wants to look at you, the softness in your face as you fall apart, even if he couldn’t admit to himself how badly it affected him.

He slows, almost to a dead stop, but that seems even worse.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks timidly, whatever emotion he was feeling earlier now gone, replaced with the Eddie you knew best, “I’m sorry—I just,”

“No, no—can I—maybe turn over?” You ask quietly, turning back to look at him. His eyes are soft, still dark, but less rough around the edges.

He nods, pulling away enough to help you roll over to your back—it’s almost a relief to see his face, void of everything but worry, his eyebrows furrowed into a tight line. “Better?” He asks, his hand pulling at your thigh until it’s settled high on his hip. You nod fervently, his head tilting down to aid himself as he guides back into you, the angle even more satisfying than before.

“Oh,” You sigh, feeling a sudden tinge of fear as you speak, remembering his earlier words, “shit—sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Eddie huffs a small laugh through his nose, his eyes scanning over your face, “I didn’t mean any of that,” He shakes his head, “I was just—upset, I guess.”

Your hand reaches up to touch his face, finger tracing over the curve of his lips, he frowns slightly, causing you to frown back. He can’t take the intensity of your stare, leaning down to tuck his face into your neck, forcing himself deeper inside of you, hitting a spot that can only be defined as euphoric, gut wrenching—you whined out into the quiet room, feeling him thrust into you once more, your arm coming to curve around the back of his neck, blunt nails scratching at his shoulders.

“I just—I just wanted to be shown off, you know,” You say with an immense amount of vulnerability, barely able to get the words out, “I know that isn’t what this is—I don’t expect that,” Eddie’s lips latch onto your neck, more careful about leaving marks, just admiring your skin and the sweet mewling noises you made in return, “it doesn’t matter, anyways.”

Eddie hates how you disregard it all, knowing it’s mostly his fault—filling you with unreal expectations, forcing you into a position, a situation; one that would ultimately end in flames. It was his own selfish indulgence that got you into this mess and he was fully responsible—but he’s stuck now, past the point of not caring, he’s fallen for you.

And maybe he had from the start, but none of that mattered.

“I didn’t know—that you wanted that,” He confesses, his voice even more wrecked than your own, building in the precipice of his own orgasm, “I should have—should’ve noticed.”

“It’s not your fault,” You assure him, forcing him to pull away to look at you, “this is all for fun, anyways. I don’t expect anything from you.”

It’s a painful reminder.

Eddie nods gently, moving his hand between you both to press against your clit, rubbing slow, heavy circles against the nub, “Oh, fuck—“ You sigh, mouth hung open in desperation. Eddie smiles, watching you fall apart by his own hand, the steady pace against your pulsing clit was overwhelming, but his gaze was even worse; nodding, almost egging you on as you keened against him, rutting yourself into his hand. “Please,” You beg for no apparent reason, “shit, I’m gonna come—Eddie.”

“You got it,” He encourages, slowing his own pace to focus on you fully, the slow grind of his hips and his fingers against your clit as you fall over the edge, “—that’s it, fuck—“ Eddie stalls at the feeling of you clench around him, orgasm hitting you unexpectedly.

His hand soothes you through, the soft praises of his voice as he watches you fall apart, mouth hung open, begging to be kissed. He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a deep, messy kiss that doesn’t feel casual; it reeks of love and wanting, but you can't find it in yourself to care right now.

“Good girl,” He coos softly, fingers brushing your hair away from my face, “So fucking pretty when you come, you know that?”

You laugh at the absurdity, a drunken giggle as your eyes fall shut, barely enough energy to keep them open. Eddie leans forward to kiss you once more, quick and chaste, trailing kisses down your neck as he speeds up again, hips snapping into your roughly, his desperate hands pulling and gripping your thighs as he rides through his own orgasm, groaning against the warm skin of your chest, lips dragging against the dip between your breasts, the shirt Eddie couldn’t be bothered to remove was shoved up under your neck.

“That was—“ You say after a moment, a faint smile spreading across your face, “intense.”

Eddie snorts softly, pulling himself out of you to discard the used condom, tossing it in the trash can near his bed.

“I don’t want you fucking other people,” Eddie says suddenly, your eyes lifting up to meet his own, hands slowly working your shirt back down your chest.

“I thought you wanted this to be casual?” You asked, remembering his words from the beginning of all of it.

“I do,” He lies, it’s entirely too unconvincing and you can hear it in his voice—you don’t try to question him on it, “I just—I don’t like the idea of you messing around with anyone else, not while I’m with you.”

“And if I meet someone?” You ask curiously, “What then?”

“Then we end this,” He settles on, even though the words pain him to say, “—you don’t owe me anything, okay?”

You nod gently, “Do you ever think—I don’t know, what would’ve happened if I wasn’t your student?”

Eddie pulls at the hem of his jeans until they’re settled at his waist, unbuttoned as he climbs on the bed beside you, mattress dipping as he sat, “I would’ve asked you out—probably.”

You smile at the thought, still aware of your lack of clothing, though—Eddie tosses you a blanket to cover yourself, his hands resting on either side of your curled legs, knees pulled to your chest.

“It’s unfortunate,” Eddie says softly, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face, “maybe if we’d met under different circumstances this would be easier.”

“We’re still here somehow, aren’t we?” You challenge, watching his face scrunch up in amusement.

“I’m sorry if that was too much,” Eddie apologized, hurt glazing over his eyes, “—part of me enjoys it—I just couldn't get the thought of you and him out of my head.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, face pulled up into a cheeky smile, “Eddie—I think that’s jealousy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, pulling away from you.

“It’s fine!” You console him, “I don’t mind—but you could’ve just told me you didn’t want me messing around with other people while we were doing this—it would’ve saved me a lot of trouble and humiliation.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He says softly, leaning forward to press a quick peck to your forehead, “I should have just told you.”

He should have told you he was in love with you, but it never came. You hated yourself for feeling that way too, knowing that nothing would ever come of it—it was impossible.

You yawn, stifling the noise into the blanket as you raised it to your mouth—Eddie laughs, forcing you gently against his mattress. “You can sleep here,” He offers, “I’ll drive you back in the morning.”

You smile tiredly, eyes gleaming with adoration for the man sitting in front of you. “Good—Max isn’t too happy with me and I don’t feel like making it worse.”

Eddie tilts his head slightly, staring down at you in question.

“She’s annoyed—all of our sneaking around. I mean, she knows—of course she knows.” You couldn’t keep this from her even if you tried. “But, she’s also the one who told Jason to ask me out—I don’t want to make her feel worse knowing that it was a disaster.”

“Red’s tough—and really fucking persistent, actually.” Eddie comments, laughing at a far, distant memory, “I’m sure she meant well.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You shrug, hand wrapping lazily around his forearm. “Will you sleep here? With me?”

“If that’s what you want.

“I do want,” You laugh, pulling him toward you, “I want it a lot.”

It doesn’t help when you wake up to his sleeping face the next morning, void of any stress, inclination of his bad days or worse night, he was calm. And as much as you wanted him to, he didn’t touch you the entire night—despite your lack of clothing, almost like he couldn’t bring himself to do it—like he was scared.

You scoot closer, wedging your arm against his side and under his own, feeling the soft soothing warmth of his skin as he nuzzled against your neck, leaving a short peck against the column, mumbling, “Morning, baby.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s said it.

And it makes you breath catch, wishing that you could wake up to it every morning; the groggy morning voice, the tired and post-sex bliss in his eyes, it was everything.

“Careful,” You tease, “I might think you’re falling love with me.”

Too late, he wants to say. Instead, he changes the subject.

“Breakfast?”

It’s a wonderful way to kill the moment, but that’s what Eddie needed—and it gets both of you out of the bed without much complaint.

“You read my mind.”

Eddie turns out to be an amazing cook, a nice step up from the usual scrambled eggs and instant meals you indulge in on a weekly basis.

☆.｡.:*

He slips up again Monday, much to your own surprise and bewilderment, turning to point at you from where he’s leaned against his desk—Jason is a few rows back, thankfully.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Anyways, Eddie makes a small comment toward a student, turning to your raised hand, “Yes, sweetuh—ma’am?“

You choke on the dead air, scrambling to recover from his vital slip up, thankfully no one noticed—but, you definitely did.

And again a few days later—you almost think it’s on purpose, at this point.

It’s more intimate this time, Eddie huddled over your desk as you talked over the assignment—which truly was the entire reason he was here, but he just couldn’t help himself when he was this close to you.

You answer the question correctly, earning a soft smile from Eddie and a hushed, “Good girl.”

The sound you make disrupts the entire classroom, heads swiveling toward your direction—thankfully, Eddie is an expert at diversion, and you could live out the rest of the class reeling over Eddie’s slip up—though, that one was really just for his own amusement

You decide there’s only one way to seek revenge on him, punishing him for his endless teasing and antics—you corner him near the end of the school week, a Friday night. Eddie usually stays late to grade work in his office, which lends to a little too much downtime, and since your schedule was completely free, you ended up in his office that night—it was a first.

“We’re going to get caught,” Eddie says lazily, scribbling something down, “is that what you want?”

“Well,” You shrug, “guess I’ll have to hide, right?”

Eddie’s eyes pull up to yours, watching as you knelt and crawl underneath his desk, settling yourself in the space between his legs, feet curled underneath you. The rough, dingy carpet dug into your skin, but it was manageable.

“Are you serious?” Eddie asks, leaning back in his chair to stare at you from where you sat, looking entirely too mischievous.

In all fairness, Eddie is rarely interrupted during after school hours and spends most of his time in silence, getting his work done, and then leaving without much of a problem—unfortunately for him though, it wasn’t one of those nights.

A short, hard knock on his door has him scrambling forward, doing his best to seem casual—despite his student being tucked between his legs underneath his desk and—oh, that was definitely a hand pressing against his thigh. He slips his own hand underneath the desk, shoving yours away.

You let out a quiet laugh, ignoring his protests. Instead of going for his thigh, you go straight for the growing tent of fabric at his groin, squeezing gently. Eddie’s leg is bouncing nervously, his eyes trained on the Dean as he walks through the threshold.

“Edward,” He says curtly, attempting to remain a certain sort of professionalism, “hard at work?”

You smile at the double entendre, silently undoing the zipper and button of his pants, reaching into his underwear to pull his cock free, half hard and heavy in your hands.

“Just trying to get through these papers,” He replies calmly, “then I’ll be out of here for the weekend.”

A weekend spent with you, laid up in his bed.

“I just wanted to drop this off personally,” The Dean says, the sound of a paper hitting the surface of the desk. You lean forward to lick along the line of his shaft, the shaking in Eddie’s leg suddenly calming. It’s a small inclination to take things further, slowly fitting as much of him in your mouth as you could before pulling back slowly—you can feel the muscles of his thighs tense, rubbing against your shoulders as struggles to keep his computer, “it’s for my son.”

Eddie grabs the paper from his desk, looking it over, “Oh—Carver, yeah. He’s transferring out?”

You can’t see Eddie’s face, but his voice is all too telling. He was elated, relieved, excited—Eddie’s never hated a kid so much in his life, and he’s been around plenty of them.

“Yeah, he seemed pretty insistent about—that’s why I came here. I just need you to sign on the line to complete the paperwork.”

You lean down to mouth at Eddie’s balls, his cock still firmly in your hand as you stroked him—he clears his throat unexpectedly, gently kicking the side of your thigh.

He’s never been more thankful for the large radio shoved in the corner of the room, playing at a low volume—but still managing to muffle the ungodly noises you were making below him, silent to everyone but you and him.

Eddie doesn’t argue, signing the paper with ease, handing it back over.

“Thanks,” The Dean says, “Enjoy your weekend, Edward.”

There’s a few moments of silent footsteps, a closed door, before Eddie is pulling away abruptly, locking both of the looks on his door and pulling harshly at the string connected to the blinds on the window—you crawl out from underneath the desk slowly, coming face to face with Eddie’s shoes as they stop in front of you.

“Get up,” His voice is tight, his face even tighter as you finally look at him, “Are you fucking insane?”

You smile devilishly, “Oh, Edward,” Eddie hates it, hates how it falls from your tongue, “Yes—I am.”

Eddie crowds into your space, shoved up against the edge of his desk, ass hitting the edge as he moves up against you. He grabs at your face gently, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says seriously, “I mean it.”

You pout, eyes soft, “Fine,” You settle on, Eddie didn’t seem to be lenient on the idea and if it made him uncomfortable, you weren’t going to push it any further, “Can I leave, then?”

“Leave?” Eddie laughs, “You’re not leaving yet.”

You move to push away from the desk, but Eddie holds you there. You didn’t have anywhere to be—you wanted nothing more than to be here right now, but it was all a part of the game, riling Eddie up the best way you knew how.

“Oh?” You ask, voice lilting up, “So, you make a big fuss about me being in here and when I want to leave, I’m not allowed?”

Eddie’s face pulls up into a smirk, his thumb trailing along the line of your, squeezing at the base of your neck. He yanks roughly at his tie, losing it in one swift movement until it’s grasped in his hands.

“That’s exactly it,” Eddie answers, “—give me your hands.”

Your eyebrow raises in question, but you don’t make much of a fuss, offering your hands to him willingly. He smiles like he’s got a secret to tell, but he doesn’t want you to know—he moves your hands behind your back, leaning over to bind your wrist with the silk material of his tie.

“What’s this for?” You ask curiously.

“This if for,” There’s a soft tug, making sure your wrist are secured, “thinking it would be a good idea to come into my office, during work hours,” He leans back slightly, his lips a mere inch or two away from your own, “and put that filthy fucking mouth around my dick.”

You laugh in his face softly, tugging against the restraints—they weren’t for show, that’s for sure.

“I guess I really worked you up,” You tease, watching as he palm himself openly, he hadn’t even bothered to tuck himself back into his pants, still open for your earlier activities, “didn’t I?”

“Oh, baby,” Your heart jumps at the word, “you have no idea.”

Eddie leans into you, grinding himself against your core, his fingers slipping over the hem of your underwear to pull them down, pulling away long enough that he can toss them to the floor, his hands gripping underneath your thighs to pull you toward him, as close as humanly possible.

“Fucking me in your office?” You question with a sweet tone to your voice, “Sir, that’s against the rules.”

“Oh well,” He says offhandedly, taking no time to sink into you in one steady thrust of his hips, your hands settled behind you are the only thing managing to keep you upright, gasping at the sudden but welcoming intrusion, “I’m already breaking enough of them.”

Eddie didn’t care, anyone—he’d break all of them if that meant having you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #my writing #1kfic

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saturnville · 5 months

Text

in the dirty south, III.

pairing: cowboy!coriolanus snow x black fem oc. warnings: old slang, sexual innuendo, flirting, sorta forbidden infatuation if you blink. shy!oc. content: while at a town fair with her family, delilah finds herself heavily infatuated with the new face in town. an: last part! I just realized I was heavily inspired by Romeo and Juliet when I wrote this (in the sense of immediate connection with someone).

tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim @cherry2stems to keep your spot on the tag list, you are expected to interact!

The night draped itself over the small town, casting veil of darkness upon the fairgrounds. A myriad of colored lights twinkled above, painting the scene in hues of red, blue, and gold. The once lively fair had transformed into a dreamscape, a place where reality and enchantment danced together.

Delilah stood at the edge of the fairgrounds, where the glow from the string lights met the shadows. The rhythmic laughter and distant carnival music were the background symphony to her contemplative thoughts. She couldn't shake the lingering sensations from the day—the warmth of the sun, the taste of poundcake, and the unexpected connection with Coriolanus.

Just as most young women her age, Delilah dreamed of experiencing an instant connection with someone. She longed to bask in the serenity of adoration that came from another. To be cloaked in desire was a wish of hers, and as the nightsky blanketed the sun, and the stars made an appearance, she knew that her wishes were grant.

In the midst of a sea of people, she spotted him. Coriolanus. A solitary figure, his silhouette etched against the radiant backdrop of the fair. A sense of anticipation filled the air as he turned, his gaze meeting hers. A subtle smile played on his lips, and he gestured for her to join him in the dance of shadows and light.

With a deep breath, Delilah stepped into the enchantment of the fair once more, the echoes of laughter and the distant melodies guiding her toward an unforeseen future.

Delilah's voice was soft as she muttered her pardons to the strangers who were engrossed in carnival games and deep conversations. The aroma was thick with beer, ice cream, and apple pie. As she approached Coriolanus, the bustle of the night seemed to quiet.

"Quite a sight, ain't it?" Coriolanus asked, his eyes trained on the artwork etched in the sky. His voice was filled with warmth, and Delilah couldn't help but to smile in agreement.

"It is." The stars were beautiful. The stage was big enough for them to dance without their shine being stolen or dimmed by another.

Coriolanus extended his hand, inviting her to join him in exploring the fair's wonders. As their fingers intertwined, Delilah felt a surge between them, a connection forged in the shared moments of the day.

They strolled through the fairgrounds, exploring pockets of quietude between the lively attractions. The game of ring toss to their left, and the stage with a blues band on their right.

Amidst the whimsical glow of the fair, they found a secluded bench. Coriolanus pulled Delilah closer, and they sat in a comfortable silence, watching the flickering lights and the shadows they cast.

"Delilah," Coriolanus began, his voice carrying a sincerity that echoed in the quiet night. "I wasn't planning on staying in 11."

Delilah turned to him, curiosity etched in her expression. She looked so stunning beneath the rays of the moonlight. Her lipstick was long gone and only a faint tint of red remained on her full lips. A thin layer of sweat adorned her forehead and loose curls stuck to her face. Breathtaking, he had to admit.

The night seemed to hold its breath as Coriolanus continued.

"I found something unexpected—someone unexpected," he confessed, his gaze steady. He sighed softly and caressed her bare shoulder with his thumb. "I was granted the option to go back to the Capitol within six weeks. I'd been spending time with the boys 'cause I made up in my mind that I was leaving. Until today. Until you and I crossed paths."

Delilah felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of surprise and joy. The carnival around them seemed to celebrate their connection, the lights flickering in unison with the beating of their hearts.

The revelation hung in the air. Coriolanus's words lingered, and Delilah found herself momentarily lost in the depth of his gaze. He had decided to stay—his path no longer leading him away from District 11 but winding through its fields, its people, and, unexpectedly, into her life.

Delilah blinked.. Her eyes traced the contours of Coriolanus's face, searching for any signs that this might be a jest or a fleeting decision. Yet, sincerity lingered in his expression.

"You're staying?" Delilah whispered, a mixture of surprise and curiosity coloring her words. The thought of him becoming a constant in her small town, a familiar face amidst the fields, stirred something within her—a quiet joy that unfolded like the blossoming of a rose.

District 11 was overlooked often. It was the last place anyone would consider finding something they'd been searching for. Except Coriolanus. He found exactly what he longed for. Away from the gltiz and the glam of the Capitol. In a town where everyone felt like family, where the was warmth in every smile, where not everything was a competition of wealth and fame. Life in 11 was simple. He enjoyed simplicity.

"I am," Coriolanus nodded. "Can't lose the opportunity of getting to know the prettiest woman in town. But again, that's only if you let me."

There is was. That charm. The corners of Delilah's lips tugged upward to a smile. Slowly, she brought her lips to his cheek, taking note of how they reddened like the beets in her Mama's garden. "I'd like that."

She rested her head on his shoulder and together, they embraced the radiant glow of the fairgrounds, that had witnessed the birth of an unexpected union.

#saturnville #black!reader #original story #fic inspo #black reader #coriolanus snow x black reader #original characters #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x black fem reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x black oc #coriolanus snow x delilah mae by saturnville #in the dirty south by saturnville

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lightscamerabitchsmileee · 5 months

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Choose your fave, reblog & share your thoughts and even let me know some of your faves even if it's outside this list in the tags I would love to hear it ❤️😊

This part of a new series I'm doing there's an Adele poll as well if you want to vote there too thank you and have fun 😊😊

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sinon36 · 15 days

Text

Ghost x undercover!reader (HC) Part II

Warnings: blood, violence, kidnapping, mistakes hehe, a bit of fluff

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

- the second time you meet you don’t even recognize him

- you are sent to meet up with a freshly assembled team, a few hand-picked men and women with various skills, the most capable, for a new sensitive covert mission

- with your experience and prone eye to details, you’re quickly made team leader alongside an S.A.S. Lieutenant

- he wears a skull mask sewn on a black balaclava, 6’4 wall of hard muscle, and the most intimidating gaze you’ve ever seen in someone’s eyes

- you don’t back down when you are introduced to one another, handshake firm, brown eyes meeting your own for a long time, as if caught in a duel of gazes

- you learn his name, in fact his callsign ‘Ghost’

- you deem it fit for his choice of gear and his mannerisms

- he rarely speaks and when he does it is short and to the point, making astute observations or asking good questions, the rest of his time is spent in silence, sharp eyes scanning the room full of people or the files handed to him

- for how big he is he sure likes to disappear unnoticed acting just like his namesake

- nothing is known about him, in truth no one on the team knows much about the others, no more than the essentials: their callsign and specialization, the rest is redacted

- you are not a curious person and you leave him be, but you can deny that he’s intriguing

- you find out you work well together; you plan and scheme for the operation, making up fictional scenarios and coming up with backup plans for every backup plan there is

- you don’t socialize much outside your work, but the silence between you two doesn’t feel awkward, more like understanding, a silent pact to not disturb the other from mental preparations and other thoughts regarding the near future danger that awaits you

- the plan is quite simple: you’ll pose as an ex-military expert in explosive devices, who just got dishonourably dismissed for having slept with a superior office at the base, and with no pension and a wish for revenge on the government that failed you; you get recruited by a terrorist cell via dark web that wants a large amount of explosive for a big hit on London;

- the buyer wants a meetup in a couple of days and a live demonstration that your devices work and do the desired amount of damage

- you’re the main piece on the chess board, the rest are there to support you and extract you in case the meetup goes awry

- and you prepare accordingly, mastering the art of explosives in just a few days, you are a fast learner, you work very clean and organized which make you look the part

- one day before the expected meetup, everything is ready, all the plans have been poured over, every detail accounted for

- it’s the calm before the storm as they say, you’re more quiet than usual, mentally going over every possibility and carefully repeating answers to possible questions

- Ghost notices this and in a small gesture of kindness or maybe just good fellowship he brings you a mug of tea, your favourite Earl Gray with a splash of soy milk; you’re surprised to find out that it’s perfect, from temperature to ratio to taste; he’s been watching you and taking notes of your methodical way of making tea; you can’t help but appreciate that and the attention to details; a man after your own heart

- you thank him and he smirks under his balaclava at your reaction of pleasant surprise that you quickly school with a small nod focusing your gaze to a fixed point on the coffee table in front of you

- the last few hours before the mission starts is spent in the lounge room; you read your notes for the final time and he listens to music on his headphones, so loud you can hear the rhythm

- he sees you absentmindedly bouncing your leg to the music, not once asking him to turn it off; he smirks again noting that you probably have similar tastes in music as well, he’ll have to test that theory

- when you carpool together to head towards the location sent to you by the target, he senses your tension and tells you a joke, a dark one that makes you smile a bit; he seems to be smirking a lot at your interactions lately

- he pulls the SUV a few blocks further away and before you make your way out of the passenger seat he grabs your upper arm making you freeze entirely, he’d never touch intentionally until now

- you make eye contact and reminds you to pull out if something feels wrong and you nod in agreement

- he reminds that he won’t be able to listen to you because you can’t take a wire with you (you’ll surely be patted down), but he’ll be close, and he’ll have eyes on you on all times through the scope of his sniper rifle; the bravo team will be close by to provide back-up; this time you’re not alone

- that thought is a lot more reassuring than you thought, you trust him completely, having seen his marksmanship skills at the firing range

- with that your mission begins

- you walk towards the alley you’re suppose to meet your target and you’re not surprised to see a black van pulling over, two brutes climbing out of it grabbing you and putting a cowl on your feet while dragging you inside the car

- your plan included this situation and you know that Ghost will follow the car at a safe distance until you reach the final destination

- you feel hands on you, patting down hard and pulling your shirt up looking for any hidden device; it makes your skin crawl but you manage

- you count around 45 minutes of driving and when the asphalt ends and gravel begins you know you are close to the actual destination

- when the car stops you are shoved out of the car and they drag you somewhere inside

- when the cowl is ripped off you find yourself in a hangar with windows on both sides and a thick concrete wall in the middle that’s only connected to the floor

- you are surrounded by men in dark clothes, faces covered by shemagh scarves and in the middle a man dressed in a suit beckons you forth greetings kept to a minimum

- you are brought to a table where explosives and an array of electrical components lie in a heap

- his voice is deep, not as deep as that of Ghost and is laced with an eastern Asian accent

- the instructions are simple, make an IED with what’s on the table in under 20 minutes, it has to work and it has to take down that wall

- a timer is set before you and you get to work

- 16 minute and 54 seconds later you’re done and you mount the device in the middle of the wall

- every one gets as far as possible, turning away from the blast

- when the dust settles the buyer claps impressed that little remains of that wall

- you begin negotiations; you push for £1.000.000.000 he refuses, you argue that you need to buy supplies and they’re not cheap; he proposes a lower fee and that he’ll provide what is needed; you agree on the condition that he brings you to his supplier arguing that you want to do a quality check first, eliminating all and any error in the manufacturing process; he takes a moment to think about it; you argument that he can be double crossed and buy useless crap at huge prices and that you can lower those prices based on what the seller has to offer; he agrees and tells you that soon you will be contacted the same way you were today; you hum and ask for part of the payment now ‘for the trouble’ you say as you nod towards his brutes; he accepts.

- you’re taken back to the alley you were picked up from, the ride played in reverse, once again the cowl is thrown over your head

- Ghost picks you up from the park nearby, your established pick-up point

- once inside the passenger seat he notices the small exhale of relief you try to mask as yawn

- he drives in complete silence eyes front; he breaks it asking for the deal; you summarize; not only did you manage to meet the buyer and impress him but you managed to convince him to bring you to his supplier; he whistles in appreciation

- you feel your cheeks warm up; shock: you never blush, never, not at compliments not ever; you hate it but also like it a little.

- you ask him in return, and he clarifies that he had you in his sights all the time, ready to drop anyone that dared as little as breathing wrong in your direction, just as promised; you hum in a show of respect and appreciation, he nods in return; you are amazed how easily you can communicate non-verbally with one another - you make a great team

Next part here.

Previous part here.

#cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost fluff #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick

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howlingday · 4 months

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Lancaster Labor VIII

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Jaune: How do you feel, Ruby?

Ruby: I... I guess if I had to describe it with one word, I'd say it was shocking. Like, I didn't think my vagina would be able to stretch that big, but it did.

Jaune: I... guess I can understand that. The placenta was also really big, huh?

Ruby: It kind looked like that liver you cooked the other night.

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Ruby: It's still amazing to me. I gave birth to a baby. Women's bodies... We're so amazing that our bodies can even do it at all! Mysterious, yet so amazing...

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Nurse: Miss Rose, Dr. Oobleck is here for your next procedure. I must warn you that it might be a little painful.

Ruby: Um... Okay?

Oobleck: Good evening, Miss Rose! I am Dr. Oobleck, and I am here to sew the tear in your perineum.

Ruby: My what?

Jaune: It's, uh, the place between your butt and your vagina.

Ruby: HUH?!

Ruby: (Thinking) SO IT WASN'T BIG ENOUGH AT ALL?!. I KNEW IT!.

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Ruby: After that, I spent the rest of the day resting in my room away from the baby. I finally got to play my gacha games, and it's a good thing, too, because tomorrow was the big day; my first day as a real mom.

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Ruby: First task; breastfeeding! Alright, nipples! It's your time to shine~!.

Ruby's Nipple - Lv. 200

Ruby: ...WHOA! Y-You're sucking a lot harder than I imagined!

Nurse: Hm... It looks like she only drank two ccs.

Ruby: ONLY TWO?!

Nurse: Don't worry! This is just the beginning! Some mothers aren't able to produce milk at all on their first day!

Ruby: Oh, uh, right! Just the beginning!

Ruby: (10:00) Ow...

Ruby: (13:00) Ow!

Ruby: (16:00) OW!

Ruby: Geez!. I had no idea my nipples would hurt this much from all this breastfeeding. AND THERE'S A BLOOD BLISTER, TOO?!. WHAT THE HECK?!.

Ruby's Nipple - HP: Critical Baby Rose used Suck! IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE!

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

Ruby: My first night alone with the baby was obviously going to be nerve-wracking for me. And the fact Jaune went home to get it ready for the baby that night was just all the more aggravating for me. At one point, she started crying for no reason at all! I just fed her, her diaper was clean, and I was a first-time mom alone with her! What could I do?!

Ruby: Then I got an idea! I could play the music from my game and that should calm her down!

Ruby: ...But then I noticed I was playing a video game in front of my crying baby. I was the worst mother in the world.

Ruby: I didn't sleep a wink at all that night. When the nurse came in, she said it was time to breastfeed, so I was kinda stuck to try. After I barely got any out, my three hours between were spent eating so much, my belly felt like it was going to burst! It was an endless cycle of eating and feeding.

Ruby: Then it was time to be discharged, and Jaune was there to pick me up. I was finally home, and Jaune did an amazing job getting the house ready!

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

Jaune: Here, I put a swing in our room so we can both be here when she's asleep.

Ruby: Oh, thank you! Thank you~!

Jaune: I'll keep an eye on her while you rest.

Ruby: Oh, thank you! My nipples are KILLING me! (Taps scroll) Maybe there's some advice online that can tell me what to do. Hm... I could use a cream safe for babies and cover my nipples in plastic wrap.

Ruby: Wait... WHY IS THIS SO FAMILIAR?!

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

Ruby: Unfortunately, I couldn't keep up with my baby's feeding schedule, so I had to use a formula to replace my breast milk until I was ready. But it's still so scary, because her neck is so wobbly! And sometimes, after she's done eating, she doesn't burp right away! AND- And when she sleeps, she's so still that I think she might be dying!

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

Ruby: (Sobbing into the couch) I'M THE WORST MOM EVER! It feels like the only thing I can do is worry and freak out over the most tiny insignificant things!

Jaune: (Carrying dinner bowls) There, there. Just think, this is only the beginning, and she won't be like this forever. (Hands bowl) And don't forget that I'm here, too. We'll figure this thing out.

Ruby: ...Yeah.

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Ruby: Oh! Look! I made 15 ccs!

Jaune: Great! (Licks lips) Blech! Yeah, this stuff tastes terrible.

Ruby: Hey! Don't just drink my breast milk!

Ruby: Okay, sweetie~! Time for your first taste of warm water... Haha! Look how silly you look~!

Ruby: (Doing squats) Up and down, one! Up and down, two~! (Giggles) You're smiling~!

Ruby: Hah... You look so peaceful sleeping. (Taking pictures, Sniffles) Wah~! You're so tiny, but so strong and so brave~!

Ruby: (Sighs) I wish I could have heard your first cries, but I was so out of it after the birth, I barely noticed when they put you in my arms.

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

Ruby: To be honest, I don't really know what it means to be motherly, and the only thing I really felt about her was how much responsibility I was going to have taking care of you, but day by day, I fell more and more in love with you, my baby girl.

Ruby: Maybe someday, I'll feel like a proper mom.

#rwby #ruby rose #jaune arc #lancaster #bartholomew oobleck #I don't know how to give birth!#I don't know how to give birth

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the-hottest-band-tournament · 4 days

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Round one

Men Without Hats

Formed in: 1977

Genres: New wave, synth-pop

Lineup: Ivan Doroschuk - vocals

Stefan Doroschuk - guitars

Colin Doroschuk - keyboards

Allan McCarthy - keyboards

Albums from the 80s:

Folk of the 80's EP (1980)

Rhythm of Youth (1982)

Folk of the 80's (Part III) (1984)

Pop Goes the World (1987)

The Adventures of Women & Men Without Hate in the 21st Century (1989)

Propaganda:

Wham!

Formed in: 1981

Genres: Pop, dance-pop, post-disco

Lineup: George Michael – vocals, arrangements Andrew Ridgeley – guitars, arrangements

Albums from the 80s:

Fantastic (1983)

Make it Big (1984)

Music from the Edge of Heaven (1986)

The Final (1987)

Propaganda: Two words: George Michael

#round 1 #men without hats #wham!#ivan doroschuk #Stephan doroschuk #Colin doroschuk #Allan mccarthy #george michael #andrew ridgeley #the hottest 80s band tourney #The hottest 80s band tournament #tumblr polls #poll

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phoeebsbuffay · 5 months

Text

Imagine Star Wars special edition: movies (III)

• The Lake House.

Imagine this is a modern world where you are a teacher trying to get some peace of spirit after a very long year, so you rent this house whose locations places you next to no other than…Anakin Skywalker. Part I.

Warnings: fluffy; drama, long post.

Recommendations: “Champagne Problems” by Taylor Swift.

***

“I think you should rest, my dear”, so advises you the recently incorporated to the docent body Obi-Wan Kenobi, a retired academic teacher whose past—if rumours ought to be taken with careful consideration—is linked with the rise of the Sith Mafia that rules the country nowadays. He’s been your advisor ever since he was admitted at school due to common tastes, which got you very good friends. “You’ve been working too hard.”

It’s one of these days where there is no one at school—every student is gone to enjoy the winter break—but you must be there because the principal said so. Few meetings already occurred, so you honestly don’t get why you and your fellow teachers are not released off your duties.

“I cannot, and you know why.”

“You can, missy. Don’t be so headstrong. I can talk to the principal and the secretary”, says Obi-Wan. “You are exhausted. You barely have any shine behind these y/c eyes of yours.”

It does occur you that you haven’t been out with your friends since final exams started. You sigh, ceding to his insistence.

“You know me too damn well”, you grumble with a smile painting your lips.

He smiles back at you.

“I’ve been there, done that too. Hence why I’m here after all.”

You feel tempted to ask that question and perhaps Obi-Wan waits for it, but you swallow your curiosity, dismissing it as being a business not yours to mind.

“I appreciate it, Ben. But where might I go? I have no idea where else I could rest.”

You watch as Obi-Wan strokes his ginger beard, thoughtful.

“Have you considered renting a lake house?”

***

Anakin tastes the bittersweet flavor of silver bubbles of his glass, dissociating again as another feast is offered by President Palpatine. Men dressed in their fancy robes surround the older man in search for further favours all the whilst many women tried to attract the attention of his closest—and certainly younger—advisors, Anakin included.

He refuses any attention, finding champagne a more suitable company for his unresolved issue concerning his broken heart.

Jokes here and there roll from men’s lips, flirtation coloring the illusion scene he’s now in. Music is too melancholic to dissipate the attempts of the group of the mafia to amuse themselves.

Another champagne glass is offered. Anakin promptly takes.

“Lord Vader”, Lord Maul comes at him. “Are you not finding this feast of your liking?”

“I would rather be somewhere else where I am not considered fucked in the head for people who do so constantly”, so is his bitter, nearly rude but crude response.

Maul smiles awkwardly.

“I suppose even you deserve a rest, my friend. We’ve worked too hard. If you feel like resting, I shall cover your shift. Pretty sure he won’t find out”, the Sith Lord says in reference to Palpatine.

Anakin knows alcohol is taking the reins of his reasonable and, using his ex’s own words, ambitious self, therefore he shrugs his shoulders and says:

“Yeah, I might do that. Thanks, my dude.”

Again, Maul smirks uncomfortably. Grabbing another champagne, Anakin leaves discreetly, rewinding in his mind the moment he would propose Padmé.

They were both aligned in thoughts and expectations, but the night he booked a train to meet Palpatine, a choice, albeit unconscious, was made. And when they were meant to dance in celebration for his promotion, she dropped his hand and left him in silence threat.

Another sip.

But memories came. When Anakin met Padmé’s family and shared their plans. But there was a skeptical reaction, and his speech died before reaching his bride.

One more sip.

The flavor would not dismiss from his mind her words, calling him names that, funny now, he could not remember.

And suddenly in the car, Anakin yells. The driver doesn’t look nor checks at him, aware he has his moments when drinking.

Of course, he left her standing. He dropped her hand one last time, taking with him his mother’s ring.

And now he drowns in endless champagne glasses, not willing to admit the path he took was one no sensible individual would take.

***

The region suggested by Obi-Wan is one very quiet with few houses. The lake is clean, with no wild animals to scare you. Luckily for you, unwilling to interact with neighbors, it appears most of the lake house’s owners are absent: winter is hardly the season for the usual gathering in such places.

As someone who is very fond of nature and the silence that comes with it, you instantly smile and promptly write a message to Obi-Wan.

“It’s perfect. Thanks- Y/Nickname.”

You cross a small entrance that leads the way to the house. Atypically, it’s made of glass—which might mislead to an idea of exposure, but you know this is easily fixed by the use of courtins—and has two floors. It’s simple and practical, and the view to the lake is just… perfect.

You are quickly getting your stuff inside when you hear a male voice nearby:

“Do you need any assistance there?”

The voice comes to your ears in a crawling, husky whisper that makes a shiver running over your spine. As you turn with a heavy box in your hands, you spot a handsome stranger standing not too far from you, respecting the limits that divide your house from his.

He is taller than you and his eyes are painted with such charming blue irises that you are speechless for a moment. You promptly clear your throat, hoping the man doesn’t notice his presence impacted you, but judging by his smirk it appears he did notice.

“I’m all right, thank you”, you think prudent to dismiss his good will in helping you, after all you two are strangers.

Anakin sees the distrust in your body language. After the whole thing with Padmé, he’d normally stay away and never again you’d see him, but these are other circumstances. He certainly is sober anyway and is eager to be around a new face after all those years with the same old ones.

Not to mention he thinks you are too beautiful to waste an opportunity in having a glimpse of your pretty features.

“I insist”, he says gently. “I’m Anakin, by the way. Anakin Skywalker.”

Somehow his name rings a bell, but you don’t know where. You carefully stand a hand for him to take and shake.

“Anakin, nice to meet you. I’m Y/N Y/LN.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N. What brings you here?”, he asks as he helps you with two heavy boxes that you brought to the house. “And my God, what did you put here?”

You chuckle, appreciating his help.

“Thanks, Anakin. I needed some time to rest, honestly. I came from Y/C. And these are only the things I judged necessary to bring here. I intend to spend just two weeks.”

“Hmm. Big city, of course I’ve heard about it.” He tilts his head, scanning your moves as if he’s studying you. “Running away from something, eh?”

Anakin chuckles in turn and you join him.

“Oh if you call enjoying a break running away, then it’s only momentarily, I’m afraid.”

Leaning against the wall that stands as a division between kitchen and living room, Anakin watches as you simply sit down.

“What do you work with, if I may ask?”

He observes as you make a bun with your messy y/c locks. By how you smile shyly he can tell how introverted you are.

A curious contrast to Padmé, he cannot help the comparison.

“I am a teacher. But enough about me”, you stand and head to the kitchen, aware his eyes follow you. “What about you, Anakin? What do you do for living? Do you live here, by the way? Or…”

And here, when you turn your gaze to meet his, the next words rolling out of your tongue would impact greatly in the next greetings between you two.

“…are you a fugitive like me?”

***

Each night, this stranger named Anakin Skywalker comes by. You and him share experiences and memories, all followed by a beer. A bond is starting to form, but you are somewhat bothered by this mystery aura that surrounds him.

“I sense your hunter’s eyes judging me”, Anakin smirks to himself.

You and him are sitting together before the firepit, chairs close, short distance from one to the other. His eyes are closed and yet he is very observing. You chuckle, relieved at last that he is not seeing you blushing.

“Not judging.”

“What then?”

You don’t know what to respond, so silence is your best defense. Anakin opens his eyes and stares at you, noticing you are hugging your knees, the very embodiment of innocence he’d not seen in years.

He senses what’s behind your thoughts. However, he opts to make it about you instead.

“Have you ever had your heart broken?”

You side eyes at him, with an expression he cannot read well, though there is something attractive in how the shadows of the flames dance in your face.

“I have”, you admit. “Not beautiful like the songs want to portray in melodramatic lyrics.”

“It is painful”, Anakin agrees. “Yet have you considered we may the reason why our hearts are broken in the first place?”

You ponder what he wants to mean but, not reaching to anything satisfactory, you shake your head. Not noticing how your fingers are subtly intertwined with his, your eyes are now glued in Anakin’s.

“We project what could have been in the objects of our affections. There’s so much expectation that leads us into this madhouse where we want to feel every inch of it. But shadows are, like certain philosopher pointed out, our worst doom.”

“That is deep”, you muse with no thinking. “What happened?”

“We were not ready to move forward, I suppose”, and just like that he drops your hand, much to your silent consternation.

You don’t say anything. Anakin waits for a response, but when looking again at you he knows what to read in your serene semblance. Two weeks and a little more, and an attachment has flown.

Fear leads to suffering. And hasn’t he been plagued by his own champagne problems? Yet, where has his champagne gone for the last couple of days?

“I don’t like your silence”, says Anakin, sounding more anxious than he cares to admit. “Have I disappointed you, Y/N?”

“I was merely wondering”, you flee from the question posed, “how hard can be picking up the pieces left by somebody else. But one must be ready to glue each by each.”

“You are the poet now”, he side smirks. “You sound convicted.”

“And you lack convictions, it appears”, the words come in a burst.

“Perhaps you are not entirely wrong.”

Something about his words annoy you. Quietly as usual, you make your leave and even before the fire, Anakin is left to the cold.

***

He knows where to find you. In mute steps, Anakin crosses the divisores from your house to his. You are sitting with your feet on the cold water with a cup of coffee in your hand and well dressed up.

Anakin hesitates at first. Never comfortable with crowds or awkward silences, never too friendly with his own pain, he finds in you something better that his wrecked conscience is unworthy for.

Every speech dies unspoken when you seem to stand.

I cannot let you go.

He knows you are about to return to your daily life. Your routine awaits.

“Y/N”, Anakin comes to you at long last.

You are startled by his presence, clearly not expecting his arrival.

“Ani”, you stand.

As the wind howls around you two, your remaining coffee instantly gets cold. But the warmth between you two only grows.

“I was a coward. I forgot my convictions for a moment, a wrong I intend to amend. Fear leads to anger and anger leads to suffering. We both, I dare say, have been in pain.”

He takes a moment to breathe. Your lips are already curling upon a gentle smile when he presses over them one finger.

“And before I amend, I must say I haven’t been entirely honest with you. My sweet Y/N, you don’t know my whole story. I am known as the Sith Lord, Darth Vader.”

(To be continue)

#star wars #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker #imagine star wars #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #Anakin Skywalker x female reader #Taylor swift #champagne problems

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trafalgarlogy · 1 year

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☰ LAST DANCE - SHIVA

TW !? Obsessive Behaviour, Forced Relationship, Abusive & Toxic Relationship, Fem!Reader, Gore

How Did You Meet !?

i. since childhood, you were passionate about dance, "dance didn't take you anywhere but seduce strange men" as for what your parents and relatives said... ii. society never gave chance to women to do great things, growing they were taught to bear kids and be gentle and caring figures to them. iii. if none of that, women would become toys that men could play with and throw anytime, and following those footsteps you became what your parents warned you the most about iv. you regretted your life decisions and remembered those words of your parents, who now refused to even recognize you as their daughter and even look at you v. you danced in many functions including the royal court/ceremonies where men would look at you in a certain way that made you feel uncomfortable, you tried to ignore those gazes full of lust and desire pinned on you, but for how long....? vi. until on one shocking day, an order came for you to perform in the heavenly court of svarga, how was this possible?...an order to perform in heaven?... vii. the gods gathered to see a mortal's dance, thought of it disgusted them but Brahma insisted on telling them it was worth the while, especially to the lord of svarga, Shiva who was said to be passionate about dance as well viii. entering the court, you were nervous standing in front of the gods all alone, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, you knew if you messed up or failed to satisfy them you will be sentenced to death, Brahma sitting on his throne clapped his hands once signaling the music to start. ix. as music played, you started dancing following the rhythm, you danced gracefully in front of the entire court, as the gods gasped, they had to admit Brahma was right, their gaze focused on you and your moves, or was for your body x. especially the pair of eyes of those of Shiva, who was fascinated by this human, it seemed that he already had made plans to make you his wife... xi. as the music finally stopped with your dance, you bowed down, as the gods clapped and Brahma raised his head proudly looking at you xii. "the court is dismissed" Brahma said, as you nodded and walked away with the musicians who showered you with compliments, after that day you became well known around your area and heavens for your dance but there was something else that bothered you now, you felt someone was following and looking at your every action.

Aftermath

i. It was Shiva all along, who followed you and observed your every action, even secretly attending the performances you made. ii. things started to get too intense when he started "borrowing" your stuff by sneaking into your room when you were not around and taking your belongings. iii. it was nothing cause at times it went unnoticed, so he started sending creepy notes written in an ancient language, and disturbing gifts like someone's heart, the note beside it "it's the heart of the man who looked at in a wrong way, no one dares to look at you the way I do" iv. these events disturbed you terribly, that you canceled all the performances you were supposed to make, you were scared, and you wanted to run away but you couldn't cause you had a hard time achieving the life you had now v. Shiva enjoyed the fear he had caused you. after it was all part of his plan to enter your life and make you fall in love with him vi. He ordered his servants to bring you to him, and when you arrived he hugged you tightly with his four arms as you tried to push him away, you failed cause he was too strong vii. he forced you to marry him and forcingly ascended you to become the goddess of music and dance.

How Would He Treat You !?

i. Shiva, is a sadistic yandere, who doesn't hesitate to make a pool of blood when it comes to you... ii. Including those who bad-mouthed you iii. He'll order you to perform for him anytime, anywhere iv. He gives you special treatment compared to his wives, giving you the title "Shiva's favorite wife" by the other gods v. He will most likely lock you up in a room and allow only servants and maids to enter vi. He'll try to win your heart by giving the best of the best things coming from the corners of India, the only thing you have to do is ask vii. He won't tolerate you talking rudely to him, as he expects you to treat him nicely for what he has done for you. viii. Calls you: Meri Jaan(My Life), (Name), Love ix. If you do something against him, he would pull you by your hair(ouch), and drag you to a special room he made for "punishment/saza", he'll tie you up and use a heated metal rod but not one but four!! to burn you, in the portion that are weak that does not include vital cause after your his love. That's why you have many wounds on your body that you have to cover with clothes and foundation(did it exist at that time? Idk man don't mind it) x. the day he gives you punishment, he'll come to your room after 2-3 hours later and kiss you gently on your head and hug you, or make out with you which is also forced(rip your virginity).

Happy New Year Everyone!, Enjoy this year like never before, and keep smiling cause you look beautiful in it!

#Spotify #ror shiva #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok x reader #ror #snv #itssimpforeternity #happy new year guyssss #nyxxcore

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anjaelle · 1 year

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White Light | Part II

Characters: Ghost!ATJ + Black Female!Reader Rating: T+ (For language. Again...pretty tame so far) Word Count: 2.8K Summary: You've learned three very important things: 1) Ghosts are apparently real. 2) They can touch you if they're determined enough. 3) They will live with you for months and not pay rent, but reap all the benefits. A/N: Thanks for everyone that read part one. It would be super encouraging if people who read my story actually reblogged/commented on it, as it's hard to gauge what I could improve on or add more of without feedback.

[PART I] | [PART III] | [Masterlist]

The year was 2002.

He'd just moved to the city from England, eager to make his mark in the US with his band, Crimson Zombie. It was a shit name, admittedly--they had a plan to work on it. They'd heard from friends of friends that there was a bubbling underground music scene, and a couple of pretty damn good venues with well-known patrons. They were a group of four incredibly over-eager Uni dropouts who jumped first and asked questions later. The housing market wasn't too bad, considering the fact that everyone was trying to get the hell out of the downtown area after 2001. They had to couch surf for a couple of weeks before finding a space they could all live in on a budget. It wasn't much, but it was something.

He wasn't the lead of the band, a fact he was perfectly content with. He preferred standing in the back with his bass guitar, getting lost in the noise of the crowd and the melody without the pressure of looking perfect while he did it. That responsibility was left to his best mate Gavin, who had the looks, charisma, and talent as the frontman to make the band memorable in a sea of guitar playing white guys.

It took six months for them to gain a small following. And as they transitioned into the new year, they began getting a ton of attention they hadn't expected. Maybe it was the novelty of their Britishness. Maybe they were finding their sound. By the winter of 2003, they were well on their way to signing with an indie label and finally releasing a record.

That's when he met Talia.

Aaron was genuinely surprised when she initially approached him at a gig, since Gavin was usually the one women flocked to, the other guys were way more outgoing, and Aaron was more reserved. She was fresh out of college and working at a coffee shop, but making art on the side. The band tapped her to design their EP covers and merch, and then gave her a cut of the profits. Aaron and Talia grew closer after a few late nights of brainstorming and no-strings-attached fucking. He was beginning to catch feelings, and began to notice the growing animosity Gavin had towards their relationship.

"You don't fall for the groupies," he once said over a bottle of Jameson, "You're fucking mad if you think you'll survive touring. She'll cheat on you the minute your back is turned."

Aaron defended her which led to a shouting match. Gavin didn't speak to him for over a week, but he didn't care. He just knew that he loved her.

It was an unseasonably warm night in March when he plucked up the courage to finally ask Talia to be his girlfriend. They'd just finished an opening set at a sold out show, and were celebrating in their apartment with booze and some assorted party favors the other band mates called in. Ordinarily, Aaron would be right alongside them. But that night, he'd been nervously chain smoking out the living room window as he waited for her to come to the party after her shift at the shop.

He remembered Gavin giving him the cold shoulder all night, and snorting every last bag of coke off of their coffee table well into the evening. He remembered their band mates telling him to slow down before he OD'd. Aaron could hear them arguing from the kitchen, but he kept his eyes trained on Talia's silhouette crossing the street to their apartment building. The arguing moved into the living room. Aaron was about to call down to her from the window. There was a shout, a shove, immense pain in his head.

And then he died.

-x-

"JESUS FUCK!" You screamed, jumping out of bed and rushing to the door. With shaking hands, you managed to pull your front door open and scream out into the hallway, "SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!"

Then you ran out, clad only in your pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks.

He sat frozen on the bed, completely unsure of what to do or say to right the situation. From your perspective, a random man just showed up in your apartment and started touching your hair. Admittedly, he was being creepy. He couldn't blame you for being afraid. But he didn't know how to tell you that you were about to look absolutely insane for your accusation. When he came back to his senses, he found himself cradling the hand that touched you. Like it was sacred. It might as well have been.

In your haste to escape the danger of a dead guy, you left your front door wide open. For a moment he contemplated closing it--if he had the strength to anyway. But then he decided that it'd be better to just leave it alone in case you returned.

And you did! Eventually. It took several minutes for you to come back with your neighbors and the building's security guard in tow. He felt immediate guilt when confusion crossed everyone's face, as they peeked around the corner and saw no one there. But you stared right at him with fear etched onto your features. You parted your lips to speak, but nothing came out but a slow shuddering breath.

"They can't see me," he admitted, holding up his hands in an attempt at reassurance, "They can't hear me. It's just you...for some reason."

"No, no, no this can't be fucking happening." He heard you mutter to yourself, holding your head in your hands and turning your back to him. Your neighbors flurried around you to ask you questions about whether you wanted to file a report, and what the perp looked like. Several minutes of babbling passed, and you disappeared into the hallway again, closing the door tightly behind you without passing another glance his way.

It was odd. For the most part he couldn't really recognize anyone, and he was hit with the realization that everyone he knew from the building probably moved away. The feeling of the world moving on without him was still something he had trouble accepting.

Despite the initial shock of being seen, Aaron decided to play it cool. He felt around for his one loose cig that never seemed to disappear, no matter how many times he smoked it. He couldn't taste or smell a goddamn thing, but the fact that he died with one last cigarette in his pocket gave him an ounce of hollow comfort.

"Okay," he sighed to himself, propping his chin in his hand and tucking his cigarette behind his ear, "So...assuming she doesn't immediately move out, I need to figure out a way to explain this to her."

He snorted. He could barely explain this phenomenon to himself, let alone a living woman he's been mildly enamored with for months. He became hyper aware of the fact that the tingling in his hand disappeared after you left, and he wasn't sure if he missed you because of it. Or maybe he just missed you because he could finally talk to you and had so many questions to ask.

In fact, this was the first time he'd spoken to anyone. He instinctively grabbed the phantom cigarette and lit it with the phantom lighter, choosing to enjoy the illusion of relief it brought him.

Would you smell it? You smoked, too, but only rarely. And never cigs. Could you smell his smoke this whole time?

If you could, he decided he was a massive dick.

It was approaching dawn when you returned, and his heart leapt into his throat. Like he was an eager dog awaiting his owner.

Disgusting.

He had to remind himself that he knew you, but you knew nothing about him. Instead, he remained silent, choosing to stand close to the living room window far across the room. Your eyes met, and he noticed that you didn't look so afraid anymore. Instead, he noticed the exhaustion. He had to fight the impulse to voice his concern.

"You don't look so good," he plainly said, scratching the back of his head, anxiously.

You licked your lips and squinted at him, shutting the door behind you.

"You and I need to talk."

You explained to him that you spent hours speaking to your grandmother to make sense of things. You weren't a stranger to the supernatural--your family was full of spiritually sensitive people. But you were convinced that it skipped you. That you wouldn't ever have to deal with the craziness that seemed to follow every woman in your family. Yet here you were, sitting at your dining room table across from a guy who died in your apartment. Despite the slightly nervous nature of his demeanor, you were surprised at the level of calm you were both exuding.

He tucked his cigarette between his teeth and you clocked how unnaturally bright it was, and how slow it burned. You could faintly smell it. But it smelled like someone was smoking in a room down the hall, not right across from you.

You took a deep breath and he licked his lips.

"Ok...what do you wanna know?" He asked, resting his chin on the table.

You didn't expect him to seem so real. So human.

"Do you know you're dead?" You asked. It was a dumb ass question, but he smiled patiently at you and shrugged.

"Yeah. I kinda figured that when I couldn't leave out of the front door anymore. For like a few years."

You swallowed hard at the intensity of his eyes on you and looked down at your hands.

"Have you been watching me this whole time?"

There was a pregnant pause and he hummed to himself.

"I didn't...mean to," he admitted, "But, as you can see, there's not much room in here to avoid you."

"Avoid me?"

He shook his head, "I wasn't trying to get in your way. I was just...here. Can't really be helped, you know? What was I supposed to do?"

You considered this for a moment, then thought back on the conversation that you had with your grandmother a few hours before.

"Why are you still here? Why didn't you move on to the other side?"

He shrugged again, choosing to ruffle his curls in thought. "Fuck if I know. I might be dead but I don't know anything about death and spirits and shit. I was just...a guy. I had a band. I hate being stuck here--or, I used to anyway," his eyes flickered to you for a moment before focusing on the table again, "I just thought I was being punished or something."

The entire time you spoke to him, you had your cell phone on the table recording the conversation. You hoped that it was catching his voice as well as yours, but it was an absolute shot in the dark.

"Punished for what?" You gently pushed.

"Beats me. I was pretty boring when I was alive." His eyes glanced up at you again, but he didn't look away. Instead a slow smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and you felt your face warm up.

"What?"

"Nothing," he chuckled, "It's just nice to have someone to talk to."

You didn't even think about that: How lonely the last few decades must have been before you moved in. How much he missed before he even hit 30. How angry he must have been about his situation.

You sighed deeply, "Do you know what year it is?"

"2022." He stated, plainly. You were surprised.

"How do you know?"

He motioned to the window, referencing a billboard propped on the roof of a building across the street. At the moment, it had a fading image of a thin, blonde woman modeling a pair of very expensive pink stilettos, with a bottle of perfume propped on the heel.

"The time and date are at the bottom," he explained, "I think that's the only thing that's been stopping me from going mad. That, and being able to see life happen outside on the street. That's about it."

You sat in that for a moment, allowing you both to indulge in the comfort of new company and much needed silence. You kept noticing him stealing glances at you, like he was studying your face. You briefly wondered how often he did that before you noticed him.

"Why were you touching me? HOW were you touching me?" You suddenly questioned. He blinked rapidly like he was being pulled out of his own deep thoughts, and you could swear that you saw a blush creep along his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

"It--I...didn't, like--I wasn't really TRYING to touch you. Like, I-I thought...I don't know what the fuck I thought, really."

You blinked at him, but couldn't help the chiding grin that formed on your face by how flustered you seemed to make him, "You know I find that hard to believe, right?"

He blushed a deeper red and rubbed the back of his head again, "I've never been able to do that before. Bloody fuckin' hell, I'm sorry. I promise I wasn't...I'm not a creep. I swear I'm not. I just--fuck me."

You quirked a brow at him, but remained silent as his wide blue eyes seemed to exude a mild panic. He deserved it, since he apparently watched you for months without you knowing. Though you understood that some of it couldn't really be helped, you still wanted to make him squirm a bit.

You should've been madder. Maybe. But taking into account how sweet and anxious he was made you a little more lenient.

It took a moment for him to catch on to the fact that you weren't that angry, and he squinted at you, which made you giggle.

"Are you fucking with me?" He asked with a slight sigh of relief.

You scrunched up your nose at him.

"A smidge. But you and I both know that you deserve it."

As the conversation progressed, the sun began to peek through your window, letting you know that you'd been speaking for hours. Of course, you were exhausted. He obviously didn't need sleep. But concern crossed his features as you rubbed your tired eyes.

"You should get some rest," he said, propping his chin in his hand to watch you carefully, "You've had a long day."

Though you shook your head, you yawned, earning a laugh from Aaron.

"I think you're in denial," he said, standing from the dining room table, "C'mon. Get to bed. I'll be here when you wake up, obviously." He crossed his arms over his chest, and you were suddenly aware of how muscular he was. Or maybe your sleep deprived mind was playing tricks on you. Either way, you blinked your tired eyes slowly at him and pursed your lips.

"Fine, you win, I'll take my ass to bed."

As you dragged your feet across your living room, and collapsed face first into your pillow, a thought occurred to you which had you prop yourself up on your elbows to speak to him.

"I just realized that I asked you 1000 questions, but I never really gave you the chance to ask me anything." You yawned again and rested your head on your folded arms, "You get one question from me before I pass out for good."

At first, you thought he'd reject the offer. He seemed reluctant to ask of anything from you. But then he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking of what to say.

"Can you look up something for me on your cell phone?"

He sat beside you on the bed--an eerie experience, considering you couldn't really FEEL him there, though he looked just as real as a normal, living person. As Aaron peeked over your shoulder at your phone screen, his eyes widened in wonder.

"Well shit, that's--wow," he ran his fingers through his hair, "So you just touch the screen part? Like, there's no buttons? At all?"

"Not really."

He whistled, "This is like some Space Odyssey shit."

You were charmed by his enthusiasm and made a note of his nerdiness for a later date.

You typed the name out in google.

As the results showed up, you watched from the corner of your eye as Aaron's jaw worked. A few pictures popped up of the man he knew on stage singing to a massive crowd in Leeds, on a red carpet beside a beautiful, pregnant dark haired woman with sleeve tattoos, and a portrait of him from when he was a teenager.

Gavin Kensington Roth was an English singer-songwriter, producer, and musician who was the lead singer of the band MARCOS.

Born: May 8, 1980 Died: December 31, 2018 Children: Daisy Kensington Roth, Lola Kensington Roth, Brody Kensington Roth Spouse: Natalia "Talia" Jade Kensington Roth (2004-2018)

Before you could finish reading the results, Aaron shot up from the bed, and disappeared into the void.

#jaelle writes #aaron taylor johnson #atj x black!reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson x black!reader

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 5 months

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november with you | kylian mbappé (part iii/iii)

kylian mbappé x original female character [+18]

synopsis: alice has been living in paris for a year, she found a perfect job and a perfect boyfriend in this city, but the cold of november is bringing back old memories she wishes she could forget. warnings: established relationship; smut; domestic fluff; i have never been to france; minors dni.

(this is a sequel to the french exit, but can be read as standalone)

previous chapter | masterlist |

Part III — Put A Little Love On Me

“I've still got so much love hidden beneath this skin.”

Caroline, Alice’s mother, was opening a new store in Paris. The launch party was an intimate event, exclusive to a select few. The venue – adorned with chic, modern decor – screamed sophistication. The store itself was a vision of elegance, filled with racks showcasing Ficher’s incredible designs; you could feel Caroline’s fashion genius in every stitch. Soft jazz music was playing in the background. It was a sight – and sound – to behold.

Alice is wearing the Helen Dress, embodying the essence of sophistication in her mother's brand. Crafted from mesh with thin straps delicately hugging her shoulders, leading to a sensual V-neckline. A front slit and long length, along with the meticulously stitched finish, completed the ensemble.

With an air of femininity and grace, the dress was tailored to Alice's form, transforming her into a living embodiment of her mother's design philosophy. The dress wasn't just clothing; it was a statement, and Alice wore it with the natural confidence of a woman who knows the power of elegance.

Alice had her hands full helping her mother with the event. From organizing the guest list to coordinating with the caterers. At the party, there was a quiet satisfaction exchanged between mother and daughter, an unspoken acknowledgment of a job well done. For Alice, the store opening was an important milestone. The little nods and smiles from her mom were like medals of honor, and Alice cherished them all.

On top of that, this time things seemed different between Caroline Ficher and Fayza Lamari. Even though they have crossed paths on multiple occasions before, the two matriarchs, usually restrained in polite conversation, now seemed to be genuinely interested in each other’s company. For Alice and Kylian, it was almost comical how much their mothers resembled each other personality-wise. They were amusing themselves observing the duo.

“I have to be honest, knowing my mother, I didn’t see that coming.” Kylian points out. “They do have a lot in common. They’re both business women…” He looks contradicted when he says it, as if he can't believe his own words. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy. It’s good that they are friends. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so…”

“Weird.” Alice says, chuckling.

“Yes, weird.” Kylian smirks. He stops to think for a moment. “It's a good weird, though.”

As Alice continues to watch their friendly interactions, she wishes for a similar acceptance from Fayza. Fayza's politeness towards her was always tinged with a protective edge, as if she was assessing Alice's role in her son's life. Alice understood the maternal instinct; after all, she shared a similar protective shield around her own family. The struggle to let someone new into the inner circle was a sentiment that resonated deeply with her.

But Alice’s family, while protective, had become more lenient with her dating choices. They had reached a point where they valued her happiness over rigid expectations. Yet Fayza seemed to embody a more intense form of protection, making Alice feel uneasy. Like she was walking on a tightrope.

“I want to get used to this.” She says, eyeing the easy vibe between their mothers. “Seeing the two of them like this.”

She doesn't explain why exactly, she figures it's not wise to get too hung up on her relationship with his mom. But like clockwork, Kylian catches the unsaid, giving her a nod that says he gets what she means.

"It's all a matter of time, baby, you'll see," Kylian reassures her, his arm encircling her waist.

His gesture triggers a wave of nostalgia, taking her to another party they attended, not together but still, not far apart. Back then, she had doubts about the possibility of them ever being together like this. The memory feels distant in the past.

A warmth envelops her, contrasting sharply with the uncertainty of that moment. A sense of pride swells up within her – pride in both of them for having faith in their love and creating the beautiful relationship they now share.

alicemwebber

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working girl 💄💎💕

chiaraaraujo u just always so cool !!!!! ⤷alicemwebber babyy 🖤

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The slam of the front door echoes through the hallway as Kylian chuckles, his words slightly slurred, "Wow, that was something." They both wore coats over their fancy designer party clothes, the chill of the outside world clashing with the warmth of their home. Closing the door seemed to intensify the effect, and for a moment, they felt even drunker.

They stumble into the living room, still holding glasses of champagne that had miraculously made their way from the party to the cab and finally to the apartment. The soft glow of the lamp highlighted the remnants of the evening – a discarded purse and a pair of high heels.

With a playful grin, Alice plops down on the couch, patting the seat next to her. "Join me."

Kylian obliges and sinks onto the couch beside her. They clink their glasses and the sound echoes in the quiet room.

“To mothers and champagne!” Alice declares, taking a sip and grinning.

"Cheers!" Kylian says, lifting his glass in agreement. “But let’s not talk about mothers anymore.” He has a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Alice raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. "What should we talk about, then?" She says, teasing him.

Kylian, looking like he was planning something, slowly wraps his hands around the Burberry scarf Alice was wearing and begins to take it off. The smooth, deliberate motion draws a surprised expression from Alice.

The scarf joins their coats on the floor, thrown in the general direction where Alice had discarded her heels and purse, and Kylian continues his mission. His tuxedo jacket, the suit pants – all removed. He’s careful when taking off her dress, still sober enough to understand he’s not allowed to damage this one.

Finally, she’s naked in front of him. It always feels like forever ago, even when he had this view this morning – or every morning. He stares at her, her hair is messy, loose strands framing her beautiful face. He runs his fingers through her hair and lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him.

Kylian is standing in front of the couch, still in his boxers, looking down to her with obvious desire. Alice’s knees go weak as she’s completely at his mercy – and she loves being at this position.

He kneels down in front of her and kisses her roughly, enjoying the taste of expensive champagne on her tongue. Her heart beats faster and he goes on to kiss her neck, then whispering in her ear. “Do you know what I want right now?”

His hand touches her tight and his palm moves up slowly until he reaches a part of her that’s burning for him. Alice gasps and arches her back, her hips moving against his hand. Her breathing is heavy and she lets herself be guided by him. She closes her eyes and moans as Kylian caresses her wetness.

Kylian takes the time to admire the sight before him – the naked woman on his couch, legs spread open wide while her eyes are closed, lost in pleasure.

She hears him laugh, softly.

“This. Right here.” He says, entering a finger inside of her. “This is what I want.” Another finger. “Everyday.” He pushes it in and out, slowly. “I can’t get you out of my mind, Alice.”

He keeps thrusting his fingers inside her, preparing her to receive him, and her body starts convulsing, she grasps the edge of the sofa and moans loudly. He will never get tired of the noises she makes when she comes. Kylian smiles at the intensity of her reaction.

Still kneeling on the floor, he brings her to his lap. “I’m going to fuck you now.” He promises her, whispering in her ear as he holds her. “Such a good girl.” He praises her, making her blush furiously. “Look at me, baby.” It’s an order, and she obeys.

Her eyes flutter open and Kylian loves how lewd she looks in that moment. He presses his forehead against hers. “You’re mine.”

“Yes!” She says, eyes filled with lust, body flushed with arousal. “‘M yours…”

Kylian grabs her waist and enters her in one swift motion, pounding her hard against the couch. Her head rolls back and she groans; they move together, sweat covering their bodies. He takes her, uses her. They lie together on the living room floor, Kylian lifts her leg over his shoulder and keeps thrusting into her.

Her arms wrap around his neck and he leans forward to kiss her harshly, but lovingly. Alice struggles against her second orgasm but it doesn’t take long and he follows her.

Their skin is drenched in sweat, mixing their scent. Kylian thinks he would never get tired of seeing her beautiful body underneath him, his cock buried deep inside of her.

When they regain their breath, Alice and Kylian are still sprawled on the floor. They stare up the ceiling, lost in their own thoughts but somehow still connected. The world outside fades away and the only thing on their minds is the certainty that there will be countless moments like this in their future.

#kylian mbappe #football fanfic #football fic #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian fanfic #kylian mpabbé #mbappe fanfic #mbappe imagine

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xxrainshadowsxx · 2 months

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New Elite Chapter 3

The music from the previous dance has just ended as you make your way to the dance floor, and an elegant waltz has begun. That’s good. You could dance a waltz in your sleep, even with your nerves as frayed as they are. It will be one last thing to have to worry about as you try and decipher Mr. Onceler’s motives in asking you to dance.

You’d thought the man was completely disinterested. During your brief introduction before, he’d hardly even bothered to look at you, let alone speak with you. Every other person you’d met that evening at least had the courtesy to acknowledge your presence. But to him, you might as well have been part of the wall… up until the moment he stole the first dance with you.

You settle into hold, one of your hands in his, the other placed delicately on his shoulder. His free hand was light as a feather on the small of your back; you almost didn’t feel it. The music starts properly and your feet methodically go through the steps you know by heart, while you wait with bated breath for him to say anything, anything at all.

For the first minute or so, there’s silence, and it’s nigh unbearable. Finally, he asks a question. “Your family… how long have they been in New York?”

The question is so bizarre it very nearly throws even your precise footwork off. “Um, four generations,” you murmur. “My family has been in the United States longer than that. We moved over from England before the Revolutionary War, but we originally settled in Philadelphia. It was during the Jefferson administration that we moved to New York.”

“And how far back can you trace your family lineage?” he presses, though you can’t fathom why he’s so obsessed with your family line. He’s looking at you intently now, waiting for your next answer. You almost preferred being ignored by him. This intense scrutiny was almost too much for you to bear. You swallow heavily and clear your throat before you manage to find your voice.

“My family made a name for themselves during the War of the Roses,” you explain, and miraculously, your voice doesn’t quiver. “An ancestor of mine was an ardent supporter of Henry VII, so when Henry won and took the throne, my family was given a place in court. We were favorites until coming to America. Reportedly, my great-great-great grandfather disliked George III, and didn’t enjoy the same privileges we were once afforded. He decided to try American society over British society, then helped efforts during the war.” You were probably revealing too much about your family line at this point, but it was a subject you knew rather a lot about. Your father, when he was still alive, was obsessed with his ancestry, and ensured you knew exactly where you had come from.

“You know quite a lot about history,” he remarks with a smirk. “Pray tell, is this an actual passion of yours, or is it just yourself you’re interested in?”

You narrow your eyes at him. You could be vain about your looks, you admitted that, but you didn’t find your worth through who you were related to. He asked the question, and you gave him an answer. “History is fascinating, sir,” you say, choosing to answer his question instead of lashing out just yet. You would take him down a peg, but you’d do it like a lady. If this was anyone else, you wouldn’t dare do this, but he was infuriating you, and you didn’t need or want his good opinion anyway. “If one doesn’t learn from history, one is doomed to repeat it. It’s necessary for women to know this, for I’ve yet to see a man who understands this lesson.”

Oh, your mother would scalp you if she could hear you. She hates it when you unleash what she calls you “razor tongue,” and society would be scandalized by some of the things that come out of your mouth, but you couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment. This man had lost the opportunity for your good opinion, and if he wanted to insult you, you were more than happy to let him have your razor tongue.

You expect him to get quiet, perhaps offer you a glare, and drop you as soon as possible. You’re not expecting him to throw back his head and laugh, but that’s the reaction he gives. “A socialite with a mouth? I do believe a call to the Vatican is in order to report a miracle,” he chuckles. His mirth just vexes you further, and you’re left as the one glaring at him. Being annoyed that he insulted you isn’t a cause for a miracle, it’s basic logic.

“Tell me, do you enjoy being a tyrant?” you hiss. “I don’t know what I’ve done to earn your ire.”

He raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t. If you’d earned my ire or my scorn, trust me, you would know, and you would know exactly why. I’m not in the habit of playing the mind games society seems to favor.” His mouth twists even as he says these words, as if to leave no room for doubt. Yet his words and his actions hardly match up.

“You say you dislike mind games, yet you delight in playing one with me, sir,” you accuse him.

Yet again, his reaction confuses you; instead of denying it or even admitting his guilt, he simply looks even more amused. “Please, tell me how I’ve been playing with your mind,” he says, his eyes sparking with the challenge. “Because I assure you, my dear, I’ve been quite upfront with you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You don’t particularly want to whine about how he ignored you; it sounds petulant even in your mind. Instead, you decide your best course of action is to play coy. “You know very well what you did. I shall not give you the satisfaction of spelling it out for you,” you say, lifting your chin just slightly. You would not allow him to think he had damaged your pride.

The hand on the small of your back twitches for a moment, and you think you might have finally succeeded in throwing him off of his game. However, before you can revel in your victory, he pulls you closer to him, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “A socialite with a mouth and wit to boot. I think that is a miracle indeed,” he whispers just before the orchestra plays the final note of the song. His hold on you almost releases, though he still keeps one of your hands in his. “Thank you for honoring me with that dance,” he smirks before bending to kiss the back of your hand again. It couldn’t be more different from the last time he did this–he keeps eye contact with you the whole time and his lips linger. Surprisingly, you find you don’t mind much (which in and of itself is concerning).

You dip into a hasty curtsey as he finally releases your hand, then make your way back over to your table, looking straight ahead but seeing nothing. You can feel his piercing blue eyes staring at you from behind, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to look back at him.

Of course, there’s another formidable force waiting for you back at your table–your mother still sits there, and her expression is ice. There was nothing you could have done differently, you’d only shared one dance with Mr. Onceler, but you hope she won’t find a way to place the blame for his sudden interest on you. You had done your very best to express your disdain for him, though why it only seemed to make him more interested, you couldn’t fathom. But you had sincerely tried.

Before you can take your seat again, your path is intercepted by Thomas Hunte. “I wonder if I could have the honor of the next two dances with you, milady?” he offers with a somewhat charming smile. You don’t particularly want to, seeing as your feet are already beginning to ache, but you have a shrewd suspicion that the rest of the night is going to consist of getting passed between various men for dances with very few chances to rest. So you force a smile on your face and accept, allowing him to lead you back to the dance floor.

It was supposed to be easier this time around. It was supposed to be better this time around. You’d accepted that you had to look for a husband, and as far as your options went, Thomas Hunte was definitely a good choice. He was a good conversationalist, pleasant enough, and there were no glaring flaws that you could detect. He was a bit older, yes, but he wasn’t a decrepit old man. He also fit all of your mother’s qualifications, and seemed interested in you. By all rights, you should be pursuing this with your whole heart.

But for some deranged, unknown reason, you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing into a corner, where Mr. Onceler had joined other men to drink brandy and smoke cigars. You didn’t even like Mr. Onceler. So why did you keep staring?

What was worse, no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t help yourself from comparing Thomas Hunte and Mr. Onceler. The former, though he kept a good conversation going, spoke almost solely about himself, whereas Mr. Onceler said very little about himself and asked about you instead. You knew you shouldn’t blame Thomas for this, it was expected for men to make themselves seem important, but secretly, you thought you liked Mr. Onceler’s way better. You’d felt heard, which was a feeling you’d only ever experienced with Nellie before. Insulted, yes. But still heard. And for a woman, that was a rarity indeed.

There was also the physical aspect. While you knew the most important thing was personality, and that would ultimately be the most important factor if you got a say in your future husband, you were still a young woman and you weren’t immune to liking attractive men. Thomas wasn’t bad looking. Far from it. But you preferred Mr. Onceler’s dark hair to Thomas’ sandy coloring, and the former’s height was also an advantage. And of course, there was also those striking blue eyes that Mr. Onceler possessed, which Thomas’ brown ones could never hope to compete with.

But you must stop these thoughts. Personality was the most crucial thing after all, and Mr. Onceler’s was atrocious. He’d belittled you and refused to give you a reason for his hot and cold behavior. Even with the desperate times your family was in, you deserved better than that.

It was all a moot point anyway. Your mother would never agree to that union even if you were interested. Mr. Onceler was New Money, and that fact was his death knell.

He didn’t ask to dance with anyone else, however, which you found odd. There was no shortage of young women there, who your mother regarded as your competition. He stayed with the other men for the most part. The only other woman he spoke to was occasionally Mrs. Ryan.

You didn’t have too much opportunity to scrutinize his behavior, though. Just as you predicted, now that dancing had started, you hardly had a free moment. You managed to plead exhaustion once or twice, but for the most part, you were on your feet, being passed through so many partners it was impossible to keep track of all their names. You could tell some of them had more preference for you than others, but by the end of the night, you knew you should be focusing your attention on Thomas. You could tell your mother liked him too, which was a boon. It meant an easier time if it came to a courtship.

Finally, Governor Dix called for peace and quiet as he and Mrs. Dix took center stage for speeches. You took a seat next to your mother, almost out of breath from the hours of dancing you’d put yourself through, and you did your best to look as though you were paying attention.

But out of the corner of your eye, you spot Mr. Onceler on the other side of the room again. He’s nursing a drink and not bothering to even pretend to be paying attention. Instead, he’s staring directly at you, his expression unreadable.

You try and train your focus back on the Dix’s, but the intensity of his gaze makes it impossible for you to stop your own eyes from flickering in his direction every few seconds. You're sure he notices since he never stops looking at you, and the smirk that appears on his face all but confirms that.

He was insufferable. Utterly infuriating. You hated that he was occupying so much of your thoughts. You were being stupid, you were painfully aware of that, but try as you might, you couldn't seem to expel him from your mind.

Therefore, it's a relief when the Dix's finish their speeches. That means the ball, as well as your never-racking debutante, has come to an end. You're sure your mother will want to linger a bit to offer people she considers important a farewell, but the time to leave was so close you could almost taste it.

You stand, and sure enough your mother grabs your arm and immediately makes a beeline for the Hunte's, though she's waylaid by Mrs. Ryan. You almost giggle at the stone-cold look on her face, and only just stop yourself in time.

But as your mother's distracted, for the second time that night you feel a hand on your shoulder, and this time you instantly know who it belongs to. You force yourself to remain stoic instead of flying into a panic as instinct is telling you, then turn to face him.

Mr. Onceler stands there, as you knew he would be. He makes a short bow to you, and you incline your head back, being mindful to hold your tongue, but to also appear aloof. Even though your mother was distracted, she was still within earshot, and wouldn't be happy with you being too rude or seemingly interested. You would have to play this carefully.

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance tonight, my lady,” he says, though his eyes are still sparking with mischief as he takes your hand to kiss it for the third time that night.

“And yours, sir,” you say coolly, pulling your hand back as soon as you're able. As you close your hand, however, you feel something in your palm that wasn't there before. Covertly, you glance down and find he's managed to put a slip of paper into your hand.

You almost unfold it, but he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and at the same time, you hear your mother manage a goodbye to Mrs. Ryan. You quickly shove the paper underneath the hem of your glove just before your mother turns back to you.

“‘Bye, ladies! I'm sure I'll be seeing much, much more of you,” Mrs. Ryan calls with a twinkle in her eye before finally taking her leave. Your mother has a near permanent grimace on her face now.

“Oh, I loathe that awful woman,” she despairs. “Hurry now. We must catch the Hunte’s before they leave. If we’re lucky, Thomas Hunte will be calling on you within the next few weeks. You did well to make an impression on him.”

You simply nod, and follow her lead to say your farewells to the Hunte’s and the Dix’s. The whole time, the note Mr. Onceler gave you is burning a hole in your skin, giving you even more of a reason to want to get home. Your curiosity to what it says is simply eating at you.

After the eternity of the evening, the buggy returns, and ten cold minutes later, you’re home, where you nearly collapse into Nellie’s arms. You expect a scolding from your mother for that–it’s not at all proper behavior–but she manages a small smile. “You must be tired. I know I was after my own debutante. But you did well tonight. You managed to capture the interest of the Hunte heir… even with that awful Mr. Onceler trying to steal your time.” She suddenly pulls a face. “I hope you did nothing to encourage him to pursue things further with you?”

“Of course not,” you assure her with a sigh. “I was polite but very cool to him, Mother, I promise. I tried much harder to gain the affection of Mr. Hunte.”

“Good,” she nods in approval. “That would be a highly advantageous match, as I’m sure you know. Well, get you to bed. You need to recover; I expect young Mr. Hunte will be calling on you soon, and we must get you ready for that.”

You have no arguments there. You feel nearly ready to pass out where you stand. However, you allow Nellie to lead you to your room, where you collapse at your vanity. She starts undoing your hair and removing your jewelry, letting you sit in silence for a few minutes before speaking up. “So, I hear you managed to catch the eyes of a few gentlemen tonight,” she smiles warmly. “You must tell me all about it. Who is in your favor?”

You’re about to say Thomas Hunte’s name, but the words stick in your throat. Though you’d spend the night convincing your mother, and indeed, yourself, of your interest in the man, telling Nellie the same suddenly makes you feel sick to your stomach, like you’re lying to her.

“I-I’m not sure,” you say instead. “It was only one night, and I think I need more time to process everything, so I can really comprehend all that happened.”

“Well, I suppose that’s fair,” Nellie acquiesces with a little hum. “Can you give me your arms, please? I’ll take your gloves.” You wearily do, but as Nellie removes the right one from your arm, the slip of paper from Mr. Onceler falls out, surprising the both of you; you’d nearly forgotten about it. Nellie leans down to pick it up, but for once you’re faster than her. You snatch it up from the ground quick as lightning, your sleepiness quite forgotten.

“I think you might’ve had a better night than you let on if you’re already getting secret love notes from gentlemen!” Nellie trills, but you ignore her as you open the note to an elegant script.

I expect I shall see you quite soon. Until then, I hope I can occupy a part of your mind, my lady.

What on earth was that supposed to mean? He would see you soon? He couldn’t possibly be planning on attempting to court you, could he?

Only one thing was certain. He had absolutely cemented a place for himself in your thoughts. And you couldn’t decide whether or not you were happy about that.

#fanfiction #onceler fanfiction #onceler x reader #the lorax #the onceler #also on ao3 #onceler #period fanfic #edwardian era

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