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beloveds-embrace · 21 days ago

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(The awaited regicide addition! A huge thank you to @sun-daddy-yoriichi and @thegreyjoyed for reading this beforehand and giving me their thoughts and pointing out the typos I missed! To @nightunite and everyone else, I hope you all enjoy!)

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Dukedom masterlist

The halls of the Palace were as oppressive as they were grand, a suffocating testament to a monarchy that, to you, had long since lost its soul. Towering columns of alabaster rose toward impossibly high ceilings, their surfaces carved with scenes of divine rulers ascending to eternal glory. The frescoes above- gold-leafed and luminous- depicted gods bestowing crowns upon mortal kings, and with those crowns, the right for greed.

It was a vision of power untouched by humility, a stark and painful mockery of the kingdom that groaned under its weight. Under its own monarchy’s weight.

You moved through the opulence with the practiced grace, your silks whispering softly against the cold marble floors. The jewels at your throat sparkled, but they felt like chains around your neck. No amount of finery could shield you from the oppressive weight of those walls- or the eyes of the man who ruled within them. You couldn’t wait until you could leave at last.

King Edgar, on the other hand, sat upon his throne of carved ebony and gold, draped in garments that spoke of wealth beyond even your imagination. But the man beneath them was a creature of cruelty. His gaze was sharp, predatory, as though he were dissecting those before him for weaknesses to exploit. Edgar wielded his authority like a weapon, each word carefully chosen to cut deep.

And you had made the mistake of challenging him. You and John both.

When Edgar imposed brutal taxes to fund yet another palace wing for a Queen never satisfied, for the concubines he keeps, John spoke out in the council chamber. When he refused aid to the starving eastern provinces, you arranged for secret shipments of grain. Neither defiances were ever bold enough to be declared treason, but it burned like an ember beneath his throne.

For this, you both earned Edgar’s ire.

But it wasn’t just ire. You wish it had just been ire.

Edgar’s disdain for you, specifically, had taken a far more personal turn. At court functions, he would find reasons to draw near on the now-rare chance you weren’t close enough to John, his presence impossible to ignore.

His hand would rest on your shoulder, his grip firm enough to press a message into your skin: I am in control. His words were always mix of thinly veiled insults and mocking observations, the look in his eyes something that made your stomach twist.

This last court gathering had been the worst yet. Edgar had been in rare form, seated at the head of a long banquet table while nobles competed for his favor. You had been seated nearby, as was customary for a duchess of your rank, but unfortunately, proximity to the king was a double-edged sword not even John could outright protect you from.

“You look radiant tonight, Duchess Pricee,” he had said, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of the room. John’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing lightly, comfortingly. “Tell me, do you think your husband appreciates your beauty, or is it wasted on him?”

The comment was met with nervous laughter from the assembled nobles, their eyes darting between you, John, and the king. You forced a tight smile, keeping your voice measured. “The Duke has always been a man of great appreciation, Your Majesty. For beauty, and for substance.” You turned to look at John then, finding safety in him.

Edgar’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened. The conversation moved on, but the tension lingered like a storm cloud. Later, as the banquet ended and the guests began to disperse, Edgar found you near one of the towering windows while you waited for John to finish speaking with a Baron. The light of the full moon was beautiful, but there was nothing serene about the way he cornered you.

“You should know your place, Duchess,” he murmured, his breath brushing your ear as he leaned in far too close to be proper. The scent of his perfumes was so heavy it made your head swim unpleasantly. “Perhaps I’ll remind you of it one day. You’d make a good teacher, at the very least, for my other women.”

The implication behind his words froze you to the core. You felt his hand graze your arm- light, but too close-before he turned and strode away, leaving you trembling with suppressed fury and fear. Queen Vivian, the only witness to this encounter, merely cuts you a dark, nasty look before she leaves as well.

You hated him. You hated her. You hated both of them.

You tell your men as much later that night, after Kyle helped you shower and kisses every inch of your skin until you could no longer think about the way Edgar had touched you.

John’s face darkened as you spoke. He sat by the fire, his broad shoulders hunched, his hands gripping the arms of his chair like he was holding himself back. Across from him, Simon’s jaw ticked, eyes unreadable beneath the flickering shadows of the room. Johnny paced the room, his usual good humor replaced by a simmering rage, while Kyle stood in the corner, his expression calm but his hands tight while he held yours.

“He’s a bastard,” Johnny muttered, accent thick with anger. “I’d love ta wipe that smug grin awff his face.”

“He’s more than a bastard,” John said, low and dangerous. “He’s a threat. To her. To the kingdom.”

Simon leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “This isn’t just about his treatment of her. The people are starving, dying in the streets while he and the Queen feast on their labor. They are desperate, and will grow more desperate as winter fully comes…” he trailed off, but you had always been sharp enough to read between the lines.

And still, you hesitated. “…are you saying that-?”

John looked up, his eyes meeting yours. “We are saying it’s time for a change. If this continues, we are looking at a kingdom that will fall.“

He stood up, striding until he was pulling you into his arms and Kyle easily let you go. “But if we stop it now… we are looking at a kingdom that will prosper under new rule.”

And so, the plan was born in that room.

But still, plans and results take time. In that time, you still do your best to help your people:

The smell of smoke lingered in the air, heavy with the scent of charred wood and burnt houses. You stood at the edge of a village that had been reduced to rubble by one of the king’s careless decrees- his soldiers had come through a week ago, demanding supplies the villagers couldn’t afford to give. When they refused, their homes were set ablaze, leaving them with nothing but ash and grief.

And now, you were a witness to it. But you wouldn’t be a bystander.

John stood beside you, his face carved from stone. His shoulders and back were set straight, but his eyes softened when he turned to the group of villagers huddled nearby.

They looked up at him with a mix of awe and apprehension, as though they weren’t sure whether to trust the tall, battle-hardened man who had appeared out of nowhere with promises of help, and he couldn’t blame them. He likely reminded them of the same soldiers that ruined their lives, but he hoped your presence would soothe that animosity just a little.

Simon moved silently among the wreckage, not a Duke; masked and armoured, he had no identity in this moment. Yet, when a small child stumbled toward him, soot smudged across her cheeks and her eyes teary, he knelt without hesitation even when he could see her father and mother rushing towards them.

“Easy now.” he said, his voice low but gentle as he handed her a chunk of bread from his pack. The girl blinked up at him, her tiny fingers clutching the food as though it might vanish if she let go. Simon stepped back when her parents reach them, nodding his head towards them.

“Got the last of the grain sorted,” Johnny called, his arms loaded with sacks of provisions like the other servants. His coice carried a warmth that drew the attention of the villagers. “We’ll get it distributed fair and square- no one will be left hungry, aye?”

And Kyle was already speaking with the village elder, his calm, measured tone putting the man at ease. He had a natural way of connecting with people, one you were so fondly familiar with, and soon, the elder was nodding, gesturing to the scattered remains of what had once been homes. “We’ll help you rebuild,” Kyle said firmly. “But we need to know if any of the king’s soldiers are still nearby.”

They weren’t worried about repercussions or punishments; the King and Queen would just likely use this as an opportunity to boast about how they convinced John Price and his lovely little wife to help those in need.

As the men worked, you found yourself among the women and children, offering what comfort you could. You knelt beside an older woman who was cradling a young boy with a bandaged arm. “You’ve done well to keep it clean,” you said, inspecting the makeshift dressing. “But it needs proper tending. Let me help, please.”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding, tired eyes brimming with gratitude. As you worked, the boy looked up at you, his small voice breaking the silence. “Are you the Queen?”

The question startled you, and you glanced at John, who had overheard. He smiled faintly, his expression softening as he turned back to the villagers he was helping.

“No,” you replied, brushing the boy’s hair back gently. “I’m just someone who cares.”

Though you still heard the older woman sigh quietly. “… should’ve been you the Queen.”

Later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the village settled into an uneasy calm, the five of you gathered around a fire with the villagers, everyone now with coats and blankets to fight off the chilly night.

“They will likely not come back.” John told them, easing them more. “But even if they did- the Duchess and I will help. The Price and Riley duchies will never turn you away.”

You glanced at the men surrounding you, their determination. They were the hope these people desperately needed. Not a greedy King and an impassive Queen.

Your plans had to succeed.

Late at nights, you all sit together. Tonight, you were pressed to Johnny’s side, finding comfort in the soft smell of sugars and cinnamon and his arm warm and heavy around you.

John spoke, his voice a low rumble. “The army’s discontent is no secret. Edgar’s burned too many bridges, especially with this recent village raid, and Simon and I still have allies who’d follow us.” His blue eyes met yours, steady and unyielding. “But we’ll need more than soldiers to topple a king.”

Simon nodded. “That’s where Kyle comes in.” He said, squeezing Kyle’s hand. “His network runs deeper than the king realizes. Servants, merchants, guards and soldiers- they all talk. We’ll plant the seeds of truth, let Edgar’s reputation rot from the inside out.”

Kyle leaned against Simon, squeezing back. “I don’t need to do much. People are already whispering. About the taxes, the famine, the soldiers running unchecked. Give them a reason to believe the king can fall, and they’ll push the rest of the way.”

Johnny grinned, his usual lightheartedness sharpened into something fierce. “And that’s where I come in, eh? The common folk already hate him. They just need a spark. I’ll give it to them- allies, stories, newspapers, whatever it takes to light the fire.”

Then all eyes turned to you.

“You want me to be the face of this,” you said, more a statement than a question. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you… weren’t afraid. You trusted them fully and unabashedly.

“You’re more than the face,” John said firmly. “You’re the reason, beloved. The people already call you the People’s Duchess. They trust you. They have reason to trust you.”

Simon leaned forward, his gaze locking with yours. “They need someone they believe in. Someone who cares about them more than titles or power.”

“You don’t have to be ready,” Kyle added, gentler. “You just have to lead. We’ll do the rest.”

Johnny kissed your cheek, raising your hands to kiss your knuckles. “They see you as hope, lass. And hope’s a powerful thing.”

Such a big responsibility, and yet…

If they believed you could lead this, maybe you could.

Another night, weeks into the planning, spreading and investigating, John found you in your study. The room was dimly lit, the fire casting warm light over the worn leather of the armchairs. You sat by your desk, going over the latest reports from the villages who were slowly and steadily understanding, when you felt his presence behind you.

“You shouldn’t have to carry this alone, my Duchess,” he said softly, leaning over you to brush a kiss across your bare nape, jewelry forgone for comfort.

You turned to face him, smiling. When he cupped your cheeks with such gentle hands, you leaned into his touch right away. “I’m not alone. I have all of you, no?”

John stepped closer, his fingers brushing your skin. “We’ll protect you. From him, and from anyone who dares to harm you.”

His words, the protectiveness that laced each letter, carried a weight that made your breath hitch. When he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair as the kiss deepened, his hand sliding to your waist to pull you up and closer.

When Simon walked in moments later, he froze. Then, with a low chuckle, he closed the door behind him and stepped into the room. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” John said, voice husky as he straightened, his hand still on your waist. You were trying to catch your breath, butterflies fluttering in your stomach and a slow, curling heat between your thighs.

Simon’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air grew thicker and warmer. Your dress felt like too much on your skin- you wanted to take it off. “You’ve no idea how much you mean to us, do you, darling?”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and when he stepped closer, his hand cupped your cheek with surprising tenderness. He leaned in, his kiss slower, more deliberate than John’s, but no less consuming.

When the door opened again, it was Johnny and Kyle who entered, their expressions shifting from surprise to something far more intense as they took in the scene. What followed was a night of you being adored, their touches and whispers a vow, a promise to make you Queen, a devotion that words could never capture.

Eventually, in due time, it happened.

The coup began with the precision of a blade, honed by months of preparation and carried out by hands both steady and ruthless.

Under the cover of night, John and Simon led their soldiers into the Palace, moving like shadows through the grand halls. Years of military training were evident in every step, every silent order given and every hand waved. John’s voice cut through the tense air as he directed his men, his commands sharp and decisive.

Simon reminded everyone why he had earned the respect he was given.

Kyle’s network of informants worked in perfect synchronization with the military strike, just as they’d predicted. Loyal (to the people) servants within the palace dismantled its infrastructure from the inside- locks were jammed, gates sealed, and secret escape routes collapsed.

What had once been a fortress of power was turned into a cage, leaving Edgar and Vivian trapped within their own walls.

Beyond the palace, Johnny roamed the streets, igniting the people’s fury like sparks to dry timber. His words were a rallying cry, weaving tales of justice and liberation that resonated with a populace crushed under Edgar’s rule. Crowds gathered in the streets, their anger swelling into an uncontainable wave and further encouraged by Johnny.

By dawn, the city was awake, and its people were ready to reclaim what had been stolen from them.

Inside the estate, you paced the length of your study, the minutes dragging by like hours. The room felt stifling despite the cool night air, your thoughts a cacophony of fear and hope. You had wanted to be there, to stand beside them in the heart of the action, but your men had insisted you remain safe and sound. The helplessness clawed at you, but you trusted them.

You had to.

The doors burst open, and Johnny stepped inside. His clothes were disheveled, streaked with blood and soot, but his grin was feral and triumphant and you could feel a matching grin forming on your face. The fire in his eyes was unshakable. “It’s done. The palace is ours, lass. It’s time.”

The throne room was a battlefield, its previous grandeur marred by the evidence of the rebellion. The alabaster columns still stood tall, but the golden trim was tarnished by smoke and blood. Soldiers that did not join the rebellion lay bound and defeated across the marble floors, their weapons scattered.

And at the center of it all knelt Edgar, expensive robes torn and stained, his crown discarded and dented, all glory stripped from him. Vivian clung to him, her once-perfect facade crumbling into a mask of fury and fear.

“This is treason!” she shrieked, her voice piercing the heavy air. “You’ll hang for this, all of you! Guards! Guards!”

Edgar ignored her, and raised his head as you entered, enraged. “You dare to challenge me?” he spat, blood his voice trembling despite his bravado. “You think you can rule this kingdom? You’re nothing but a woman playing dress-up, a woman with too much freedom-“

You stepped forward, the sound of your heels- Simon had bent down himself, kissed your ankles and placed them on your feet by his own hands- echoing through the chamber. The weight of your fury steadied your voice as you replied. “And you’re nothing but a tyrant who will be forgotten. You will not be remembered for your glory, or achievements. Just… a simple speck of dust.”

At your signal, Simon hauled Edgar to his feet with ruthless efficiency, his gloved hand gripping the torn fabric of Edgar’s robes.

Edgar’s sneer faltered as his gaze flicked to John, then to Kyle, whose cold, measured gaze spoke of a resolve that could not be broken. Finally, his eyes landed on Johnny, who leaned casually against the throne, his dagger spinning idly between his fingers, his grin sharp as the weapon itself.

“You’ve surrounded yourself with traitors, John-” Edgar hissed, but his voice wavered, betraying the fear he couldn’t suppress. “This bitch-“

“Watch your words.” John shoved his sword right in front of Edgar’s face, a scoff falling out of his mouth, while Simon chose to grip Edgar by the roots of his graying hair, pulling tight. “The mud at the bottom of her heels is worth more than you’ll ever do, Edgar. Do not speak of treachery when you, your wife, and your family had betrayed this kingdom first.”

The weight of John’s words hung heavy in the air as Edgar’s sneer crumbled, and for the first time, you saw fear in his eyes.

It made you… happy.

It made you happier to know what their fates were, watching Simon and Johnny drag them away. You’d have to kiss them extra hard later… including some other things, of course.

When the throne room was finally cleared, John ordering the soldiers and Kyle speaking to the palace servants, you lingered near the grand windows overlooking the celebrating city. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, leaving you trembling.

The men found you there, the tension of the night giving way to a quiet that was almost more overwhelming.

Johnny reached you first, his usual teasing grin tempered with a softness you rarely saw. “You were bloody brilliant in there, sweetheart,” he said, warm and fond. “Never seen a tyrant look so small.” His hand brushed your arm, and his voice dropped, the edge of his accent rougher now. “You’ve got more fire in you than half the men I’ve known.”

Before you could reply, John stepped forward, his presence grounding you. He cupped your chin with surprising tenderness, tilting your face. “You’ve had more done tonight than Edgar’s done in all his miserable life.” He’s quiet, filled with pride.

Simon appeared at your other side. His gloved hand settled on your waist, unyielding. “You’re ours now,” he murmured, low and rough. “Our Queen. And no one- not a king, not an army- will ever lay a hand on you again.”

Kyle joined you last. His fingers brushed yours, as gentle as a whisper. His eyes were on the celebrations and songs, then on you. “You’ve given them hope,” he said softly, admiration shining through. “You’ve given us all hope, love. Let us retire for the night, hm? Everything else can wait until the morning.”

“For now,” Simon cut in, shaking his head, and his eyes were alight and alive. He looked at you in such a way that made you shiver, cheeks warm. His hands settled on your waist, squeezing. “I’d like to see our Queen on her rightful throne.”

No disagreements rang out.

And in the morning, the sun rose on a kingdom reborn.

Standing on the palace balcony, a crown on your head, you looked out over the gathered crowd. Their cheers rang out, echoing through the city with a fervor that sent pride up your spine. The people had come not just to celebrate the fall of a tyrant but to welcome the dawn of a new era.

As the golden light bathed the kingdom, you felt the weight of your new crown. It was heavy, but you were not alone; you had John, your King. Simon, Kyle, and Johnny. All of them were with you, supporting you.

You’d never want for anything else.

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dwuerch-blog · 2 years ago

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More of You and Less of Me

Back to my face-plant coming into the final yards of the 5K that I walked/ran/jogged on Saturday. Yesterday my blog included the beauty of the 18 of us taking on the Alamo Run to raise funds for the EMwomen Hope House. It was a complete success with many sponsors kicking off the efforts. However, complete success doesn’t describe my “run” efforts. Mine wasn’t a pain-free, accident-free run. I…

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momentsbeforemass · 2 years ago

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It takes both

You and I are all one thing.

When it comes to you and me, there’s no wall of separation between our insides and our outsides.

That is, what happens inside of us influences how we understand things and what we do. And what happens outside of us influences how we understand things and what we do.

Because of this, some of the least helpful approaches to faith (and to life in general) are those that pit the mind against the body. Or that set the material against the spiritual.

As if one was superior to the other. As if we aren’t 100% both.

Need a practical example? Ask someone who’s battling depression how much good being able to complete a task they’ve been struggling with can do for their mindset. And then ask them how much good being able to think about something that brings them joy can do for how they feel physically.

The effect maybe more easily seen in someone who is battling depression, but that dynamic is present in all of us – whether we’re battling depression or not.

It’s how all of us are built. You and I are 100% both.

And both are critical to our health, to our well-being, to becoming who God made us to be.

Which is why sometimes we work from the outside in. And sometimes we work from the inside out. But when we can, the best approach is both.

Our Maker knows this about us. Which is why Jesus always speaks to both the inside and the outside. As in today’s Gospel, when He reveals what it really takes to be great in the eyes of God.

It takes humility, in both the spiritual and the material. Humility in both the inside and the outside.

This is why all the spiritual practices of Lent have a physical component.

And why all the corporal works of Lent have a spiritual component.

Because it takes both to become who God made you to be.

Today’s Readings

#Both #Spiritual #God #Jesus #Catholic #Christian #Church #Material #Depression #Outside #Inside #Humility #Who God made you to be #Moments Before Mass

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lmaowh-at · 4 months ago

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To teach me humility, the gods have condemned me to watch you waddle about wearing that proud lion that was my father’s sigil and his father’s before him. But neither gods nor men shall ever compel me to let you turn Casterly Rock into your whorehouse.

#asoiaf #tyrion lannister #tywin lannister #idk what i did here i just wanted to draw Tyrion! and i really liked this quote #a song of ice and fire #a clash of kings #asoiaf art #🧩

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scripture-pictures · 2 years ago

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#pat robertson #the 700 club #before honour is humility #dragon ball super #beerus #we learn to fight so we wont have to #daily bread #nightly bread #god is love #bible

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eddiesxangel · 11 months ago

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The Kissing Booth | E.M x G!N!Reader

Cw: flufffffff, mild angst on Eddie’s part. Smooching. Reader wears lipgloss. No use of pronouns.

Wc 1.4K

Eddie could not believe this was happening to him.

“Nope, nope, no way, man. Over my dead body-“

“What my boy means is he is grateful he is not being suspended and will graciously accept his punishment of volunteering at the school fair.” Wayne looks at his nephew with a glare in his eyes that Eddie hasn’t seen in a very long time.

“Great, then it’s settled,” Ms. Laughlin, the guidance councillor, smiles.

It was happening. Eddie was being served the most gruesome punishment, and all because he skipped P.E. of all classes.

Eddie Munson was being forced not only to participate in the school fair but to work the kissing booth, of all things.

How on earth would he survive this? Not only would he be the laughingstock of the school, but he would also have to endure the absolute embarrassment of having no one come up to his booth, and he would also have to be forced to participate in extracurricular activities.

“Just wait until Hellfire hears about this boy,” Wayne laughs as he drives him and Eddie back to the trailer.

All Eddie could do was roll his eyes; he could never show his face again.

“You’re not going to believe the rumour I heard today.” Nancy looks at you from over her shoulder. She is sat at your vanity.

“What?” You asked, intrigued, as you got dressed and got ready for tonight’s festivities.

“A little birdy told me that a certain someone is working the kissing booth tonight.” She smirks.

“Who?” You challenge her back.

“Who, what?” Robin walks into the bedroom from the bathroom.

“Nancy knows who is working one of the kissing booths tonight, but who’s telling me” you pout.

“Ohhhhhhhh,” Robin smirks knowingly.

“Oh, not you, too! Come on, who is it!”

Robin and Nancy give one another a nod of the head before Nancy speaks.

“Eddie Munson.”

“Ha ha, very funny; you think I’m going to believe that? How gullible do you think I am?” You snort.

“No, it’s true! Shelly from the student council told me when we were working on the student paper! Instead of detention, this is his punishment, to help out at the fair tonight.” She wiggled her brows at you suggestively.

“Who else’s working it?” You try and ask casually.

Your friends knew about your crush on Eddie. It had been about a month since you confessed to one of your late-night sleepovers.

“Um, I’m not too sure what other guy, but I think Chrissy is working the girl's booth. Nancy shrugged.

“Cool…cool…” you turned to the closet, now faced with a sense of anxiety to find the perfect top.

Eddie was actually dying on the inside. Ten minutes until his “shift” at the booth, and he wanted to book it.

Running away would solve his problems, right? He would much rather be suspended than have to endure this humiliation. This was a cruel and unusual punishment.

He watched from the sidelines as Josh was at the booth currently. He was the senior star quarterback on the football team. Everyone wanted him. He could just see now the long line disbursing once he stood there.

"Hey man, you're up next in 5." Eddie was snapped out of his internal monologue when he felt a hand resting on his shoulder. He wasn't sure how long he had been there stewing with his own thoughts. "Don't worry, it's not all bad. Some customers are cute," Josh smirks.

Oh god. What if he actually had to kiss someone tonight? He hadn’t thought of that option. Like, what if some actually came up? What would he do? Are they expecting tongue?

“You have some gum or something?” He asked quickly before Josh left.

He smirked and tossed him a pack of icy mint.

“Thanks.”

Eddie peaked around the corner to where the booth was set up. The fair was set up on the school football field. There was a small sign that said be back in 5 and no lineup to be seen.

That made Eddie feel a bit better; no one was there. That took some humility out of it.

Before Eddie could back out and run, he felt another hard hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Munson, your time to shine.” Jeff and Gareth practically dragged Eddie to the booth, kicking and screaming.

“You’re the worst friends ever,” Eddie huffed as they backed away from the booth. Watching him so he won’t run away.

“You can't serve the time and shouldn’t do the crime.” Jeff laughed.

“That’s not-“ Eddie was cut off mid-sentence as he saw Robin and Nancy pushing you towards the booth just like he had been moments ago.

“Don’t make me do this,” you plead with your best friends.

“You have to do it,” “It’s now or never,” “He’s right there. Just have him your ticket and pucker your lisp. It’s not that hard,” Robin and Nancy whispered in your ear as they dragged you towards Eddie.

“You guys, please, I can’t!” You say a bit too loudly as you fight back your friends from pushing you up to the booth.

You can see the look on Eddie’s face as you are pushed up the step of the booth. He looks disappointed? Disgusted? You’re not too sure.

You let out an embarrassing squeal as you stumbled in front of Eddie. “Um hi”

Despite not being well-acquainted with Eddie, you couldn't help but notice him whenever he walked by. You only exchanged a few words in passing and learned about him through your friends. Although you never had the opportunity to spend time together, you found him to be irresistibly charming and incredibly good-looking. Whenever you caught a glimpse of him in the cafeteria, he never failed to bring a smile to your face with his silly antics and infectious laughter.

“Uh hey,” he spoke back, clearly uncomfortable.

“Busy night for you?” You ask, trying to delay the inevitable.

“Uh nope.”

“Good,” you smile; the thought of Eddie kissing anyone else made you want to vomit.

“Good?” He cocks a brow at you. “The thought of nobody wanting to come up to the freak of Hawkins High is good to you?”

“Oh I didn’t mean it like-“

“Why are you even here?”

“Oh- well- I um-"

“No, I get it. You’re just here on a dare, or you lost the bet, right? I really thought better of Nancy and Robin; I thought they were my friends… You know I heard you say you can’t do this. I understand the thought of kissing me is so terrible that-“

You couldn't help but cut off Eddei from his intrusive thoughts. You held his face with both hands and smushed your lips together. The thought of Eddie thinking that about you was far worse than the fear of kissing him.

It wasn't everything you had dreamed of. However, the kiss was still nice. You felt the eruption of butterflies fill your stomach as Eddie deepened this kiss himself. You kissed him until you could no longer breathe. Only then is when you pull away.

“Woah”

“I hope that was okay.” You shy away.

“Yeah.” Eddie sighed as he took you in.

As he gazed upon you, he was struck by how pretty you were, which he had overlooked until now. The sweet aroma of strawberries wafted from you as the strawberry lipgloss lingered on his lips, just below his nose.

“Um, here,” you jut out your hand with the crinkled ticket you hadn't yet paid with.

“Oh no, no, the house,” Eddie said without thinking and that made you giggle.

“Well, I really only bought a ticket for this, so I might as well cash it in.” you flirt.

“Ok, yeah, sure. Two for one.” Eddie took the ticket from your hand and brought it back to cup your cheek before kissing you again.

You could hear the giggles and cheers of your friends from behind you in the distance, but your main focus was on Eddie. His soft, plush lips. His minty taste, the way his soft hair tickled your cheeks.

“Ok, lovebirds, that’s enough.” the supervising teacher returned with an unimpressed huff.

You begrudgingly pulled away, but with a smile nonetheless.

“Can I get your number?” Eddie’s mouth was moving before his brain could catch up.

“Come find us later, lover boy.” Robin giggled while snatching your arm and pulled you away before you could answer.

“Dude!” Gareth clapped his hands, having witnessed the whole thing.

“Maybe we should sign up for this,” Jeff laughed. A little jealous of what he just witnessed.

After you, Eddie didn’t care if he got another customer for the rest of the night. Maybe this whole kissing booth thing wasn’t too bad after all.

#eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x male reader #Eddie Munson imagine

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gemviews · 3 months ago

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[ RAFE CAMERON ] ― OH , LITTLE MISS KOOK PRINCESS ! ━━━ PART ONE !

pairing: kook princess!black fem!reader x postseason3!rafe cameron.

summary: another party at the country club—one of your favorite spots to frequent. rafe, as usual, is there too, but this time, he’s fed up. your attitude, the one you always throw his way whenever you cross paths, has finally worn thin. but something’s different tonight. the usual playful banter between you two stops abruptly, and it pisses you off more than you care to admit. little by little, you start realizing it’s not just silence—it’s a game, and without even knowing it, you’re slowly playing right into rafe’s hands.

warnings: just pure sexual tension from rafe, craved attention from the reader. bratty x ignoring asshole.

"he’s with his coke whores again," y/n muttered, grimacing as she swirled the crystal tumbler filled with tequila and a hint of orange juice.

her two-toned, glossed lips parted slightly as she brought the thin black straw to her mouth. rafe hadn't even glanced her way after stepping into the island club, his focus elsewhere as he strode past her at the bar without so much as a nod. she had glared at him, and he had seen it—but chose to ignore her.

he did it on purpose.

now, rafe was lounging in the open seating area, his laughter echoing across the room as the usual crowd of kooks girls fawned over him, each one desperate for his attention.

they gathered around him, preening and giggling, all except y/n—the one girl who hadn’t fallen at his feet the moment she arrived in the outer banks.

that defiance had earned her the nickname "kook princess," a title once reserved for his sister, sarah cameron, before her relationship with john b. routledge became public knowledge in figure eight.

y/n, however, never seemed to care about the label, though she certainly lived up to it. her grace, her effortless elegance, and most of all, her humility—it was almost as if she hadn’t come from money at all.

and that’s exactly what infuriated rafe. how could the so-called "princess" be so kind to everyone else, yet reserve all her icy indifference for him? he wasn’t used to women turning away when he spoke to them, let alone ignoring him entirely. it gnawed at him in ways he didn’t want to admit.

rafe could feel the icy glare from y/n long before he turned his head in her direction. when he finally looked at her across the room, her bare back was to him, her posture tense, almost defiant.

what began as a passing glance quickly turned into a locked stare.

after downing her tequila sunrise, y/n moved away from the bar and drifted toward the catering area. she picked up a small slice of tiramisu, her fingers delicately wielding a plastic fork as she cut into the cake and brought a bite to her lips. she slid the fork into her mouth slowly, savoring the taste.

in rafe’s eyes, everything unfolded in slow motion. his gaze followed the curve of her toned brown legs, up to where her skinny heels wrapped around her ankles. the light pink dress she wore flared just above her thighs, its puffy hem contrasting with the way the fabric hugged her slim waist. the dress dipped low in the back, held up by thin straps—straps rafe wanted to slip off her shoulders so badly.

as y/n licked the frosting from the corner of her mouth with the tip of her tongue, rafe’s breath hitched. every bratty remark that left her mouth only made him angrier, but god, how he wanted that mouth on him.

“rafe?” one of the girls’ voices broke through the haze, snapping him out of his daze. she held up a small ziplock bag filled with a white, powdery substance, grinning. “wanna turn this club up?” she asked, her smirk full of suggestion.

surprisingly, rafe had been sober for two weeks. he sucked his teeth, battling the familiar itch crawling up his spine before waving off the offer. “not tonight,” he muttered, excusing himself from the group with a forced smile.

meanwhile, y/n, having noticed him staring earlier, mentally rolled her eyes. with unnecessary force, she stabbed her fork into the middle of the tiramisu, leaving the plate behind on the catering table before spinning around with attitude, as if anticipating rafe’s approach. she knew he was creeping closer, just like always.

there he was. rafe wore that same cocky smirk she’d always wanted to slap off his face. “nice dress,” he teased, letting his fingers graze the puffy hem of her dress. “didn’t know you were attending an elementary school graduation.”

before he could pull away, y/n swatted his hand, her glare sharp enough to cut. “oh, mr. cameron,” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “shouldn’t you be on your third line of coke by now? or are we saving the overdose for later?”

rafe’s jaw clenched at her words, his jawline sharpening as he swallowed down the sting of her remark. she always knew exactly where to hit, and he hated how much it got to him. “okay, princess,” he bit out, the usual arrogance in his tone replaced with something heavier, something resigned.

y/n’s perfectly arched brows furrowed in confusion. usually, rafe would fire back with something about her mother marrying into money or call her a skank in front of everyone. but this? this felt different. and for a moment, it threw her off her game.

her eyes darted around him, tracking his every movement as the tall frame of his body loomed over her, casting a shadow that seemed to shrink the space between them.

without breaking eye contact, rafe reached behind y/n, effortlessly grabbing the tiramisu she had abandoned on the table. the subtle scent of his expensive, woodsy cologne filled the air as he leaned in closer, brushing the edge of her personal space.

despite the intimidating stance he held, y/n refused to back down. “okay, princess?” she repeated, her voice laced with a dry laugh.

“don’t tell me you’re getting tired of me already,” she teased, her eyes glinting with challenge.

rafe responded with a low, sarcastic laugh, running a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. before y/n could brace herself, he did something unexpected—he picked up the tiramisu she had been eating, calmly cutting off another piece with the fork and taking a bite from the very same utensil she had used. his eyes never left hers as he chewed, the audacity of it all catching her completely off guard.

she couldn’t believe it. rafe was deliberately toying with her. he had gone from ignoring her to refusing to engage in their usual back-and-forth, and now this? he was pushing her buttons, and it was clear what he wanted.

he wasn’t just teasing her—he wanted her to crave the attention he was withholding. he was determined to make her fall at his feet, and he wasn’t going to stop until she did.

“tired of the kook princess? hm, never.” rafe smirked as he set down the plate after indulging in her tiramisu. “that’s good tiramisu. you should finish it.”

he turned as if to leave, but stopped just beside her, his presence lingering like a shadow. her tightly curled bundles cascaded down her back, and without hesitation, rafe reached out to push a strand away, his fingers lightly grazing her skin. he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to her ear.

“this little thing? it’s done. so watch your mouth from now on,” he whispered, his voice low and edged with warning, before casually strolling away, hands slipping into the pockets of his tailored slacks.

y/n stood frozen, the warmth of his body still lingering in the space he left behind. her gaze flickered from the half-eaten tiramisu to rafe’s retreating figure, watching as he effortlessly melted into the crowd of the country club.

she scoffed under her breath, momentarily dumbfounded. had that been a genuine threat? she couldn’t be sure, but something about his tone lingered in the back of her mind, like an itch she couldn’t ignore.

one thing was clear—y/n didn’t know what game rafe was playing, but if he thought he could intimidate her, he was wrong. whatever this was, she was determined to come out on top.

y/n felt a rush of embarrassment wash over her, even though only a few familiar eyes were watching. she needed to escape, to find a moment alone to process what had just happened. her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor of the country club as she made her way back toward the entrance.

motioning to one of the staff, she requested her coat. the luxurious white mink slipped over her shoulders effortlessly, providing a brief shield against the chilly evening air that greeted her as she stepped outside.

her reliable mercedes benz was in the shop yet again, leaving her with no choice but to summon ubers one after another. not exactly fitting for the kook princess, was it?

standing on the concrete sidewalk, she forced polite smiles at the members passing by, whether they were arriving or departing. “where the hell is this ride?” y/n muttered to herself, tapping her phone screen impatiently as she checked the app for updates.

as the minutes dragged on, the unmistakable roar of a high-powered motorcycle engine filled the air. without even looking, she knew who it was.

there he was—the same buzz-cut brown atop a sleek black motorcycle, his arms flexing beneath the fitted v-neck polo he wore. a small gold chain glinted against his exposed collarbone.

he pulled off his tinted helmet, revealing the all-too-familiar smirk. what other kook would ride dangerously on a motorcycle if not rafe freaking cameron?

“c’mon,” rafe said, his tone short and demanding.

y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned her gaze back to the parking lot, hoping her uber would appear at that very moment. the last thing she wanted was to be roped into another one of his games.

“i wasn’t asking. get on.” rafe’s blue eyes bore into y/n, an unwavering intensity that made her heart race. still feeling bratty, she tossed her clutch at him, expecting him to catch it. slipping her phone into the pocket of her mink coat, she grabbed the helmet, fitting it onto her head with a huff.

with a cautious movement, y/n swung her leg over the seat behind rafe, settling down but keeping her hands stubbornly behind her. she refused to wrap them around him, even as the tension hung in the air.

rafe noticed her defiance, shaking his head with a low chuckle. he tossed the clutch aside, watching it sail into the parking lot, where it probably hit a nearby car. y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief. “you asshole! what the hell is your problem?”

she contemplated jumping off the bike, but before she could voice her anger, rafe revved the engine. he gripped the handlebars firmly, pulling back on the throttle as the motorcycle roared to life. y/n let out a startled yelp as they shot forward, the rush of speed immediately silencing her.

as they sped out of the country club parking lot, her arms instinctively wrapped around him, clinging tightly. rafe couldn’t help but chuckle at how quickly she capitulated.

“you have plenty at home. now be quiet, princess,” he teased, the thrill of the ride clearly delighting him.

“you’re a fucking psychopath! i want to get off!” y/n shouted over the roar of the engine as rafe swerved recklessly around cars, earning angry honks from irritated drivers. he ignored her, as usual, pushing her closer to the edge of her patience—and sanity.

y/n whimpered, her plump lips trembling as her arms tightened around him out of sheer fear. she hated motorcycles, and the way rafe was handling his made the experience unbearable.

rafe noticed the shift. her sharp remarks had faded into silence, replaced by the desperate grip around his torso. he felt the weight of the helmet pressing against his back, a clear sign that she had softened—fear had taken over. surprisingly, he didn’t want her like that, so he eased off, slowing down to drive more like a regular civilian under the night sky.

the rest of the ride around figure eight, leading to the y/l/n estate, was quiet. no more banter, no biting remarks from y/n. for once, the tension between them was replaced with an uneasy calm.

but deep down, he knew better. y/n wasn’t scared enough to lose her fire. the craving for attention still lingered beneath the surface—he could feel it. she just needed a moment to catch her breath.

rafe steered through the iron gates as y/n punched in the code, guiding the motorcycle up the long, empty driveway. her parents weren’t home—when were they ever? y/n exhaled in relief, grateful to have survived the wild ride back.

“ugh,” she muttered under her breath in mock disgust, realizing her head was still resting against rafe’s back as the bike came to a full stop right at the granite doorstep.

with a soft sigh, she straightened herself, pulling off the helmet and running her perfectly manicured fingers through her bundles to smooth out any potential frizz. “thanks,” she said, her voice quiet, almost as if the word was dragged out of her unwillingly.

rafe glanced over his shoulder, his fingers idly playing with the gold rings that adorned his slender hands. his eyes followed her carefully as she swung her leg over the motorcycle to stand, nearly catching a glimpse of the delicate white lace panties peeking beneath her dress. he quickly turned his head away, pretending not to notice the fabric, but a sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"you like white, rafe?" y/n teased, catching his gaze the second he turned away, having been caught in the act of sneaking a glance.

the sly smile faded from his lips, replaced by a casual shrug. "depends on who's wearing it," he retorted smoothly.

y/n smirked, shoving the helmet into his arms as she stepped closer. "so, me," she answered for him, her confidence palpable.

this time, it was rafe who had to look up. y/n leaned against the bike's handle, the scent of her signature ysl perfume swirling around him, intoxicating. his eyes trailed down to her chest, noticing how her breasts were perfectly pushed up beneath the fabric of her dress. finally, his gaze lifted to meet hers-soft, inviting, and utterly captivating.

for a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind-he could take her right there, out in the open, letting the entire gated community witness that rafe cameron had finally tasted the kook princess. while others begged for her, here she was, close enough for him to claim.

pushing aside his exotic thoughts, rafe smirked. “in your dreams, princess,” he shot back, effortlessly dismissing the confidence y/n was radiating. her lips twisted into a soft pout.

that face—that fucking pouty look—it was driving rafe into a mental spiral. the image of her beneath him with that exact expression was quickly taking over his mind, clouding his resolve.

y/n began to think that maybe he was serious about withholding his attention, but she had no idea—this was exactly what rafe wanted. he wanted her to crave it, to realize that he wouldn’t make it easy for her. she’d have to earn it, and he was going to make sure she knew just how hard that would be.

y/n refused to let her ego show any cracks. turning on her heel, her heels echoed loudly against the grand staircase leading up to the entrance.

“you owe me a new clutch, cameron!” she called out over her shoulder, before swinging the door open and slamming it shut behind her. in a final act of defiance, she flicked off the exterior lights, leaving rafe standing in the darkness of the driveway.

rafe ran a hand down his face, stifling a groan as he glanced down, noticing his helmet conveniently hiding the growing bulge in his slacks.

he needed to hurry—taking down little miss kook princess was becoming more urgent than ever.

part two coming soon — comment to be in included in the taglist!

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