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yan-lorkai · 2 months ago

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: platonic yandere content, implied child neglect, reader's parents are bad

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Day twenty eight: Running away from home

"Hi, little one!" You say to the tiny fairy. The sound of bells left her mouth and as usual you don't understand what she say, as humans can't really speak fairy language but you are used to it and smile at her anyway.

"Lilia said that if I ever needed, I could ask you to take me to him. So, can you show me the way, please?"

She made a face, pretending to think, while your heart was beating loudly as the seconds go by. She made another sound and then held your pinky with her whole tiny hand, making you walk quickly to follow her lead, as her little wings worked harder and faster.

Around you, the forest stretched out before you like a green and mysterious blanket, birds flying and chirping around you, along with squirrels who sometimes crossed your path to offer you some fruits and nuts.

Other people could only dream of getting to know the forest like you did, of discovering its most curious secrets and the best corners for picnics and playing hide and seek.

The winds welcomed you, gently caressing your face with its invisible fingers as you ran along a muddy path, your yellow galoshes stained brown. You had explored that forest since you were pretty younger, you had cried and laughed with your fae friends - especially Lilia. The older fae pretty much raised you when your parents were too busy fighting each other.

The almost setting sunlight hit the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Your fae friends, magical creatures you had known since you were a child, seemed to be hiding much deeper into the forest today.

This forest was like your second house and you were happy to be back each and every time. And this time, you would not go back. Things got too bad to bear. You couldn't handle it anymore.

You couldn't handle the screaming and crying, and the fights. You couldn't handle being ignored.

And sometimes, they hid themselves to tire you out and convince you to stay the night. They would never have to do this again, for you didn't plan to ever return "home" now.

Sometimes, they used to do that just to play games or take a nap without being disturbed by human presence - lazy faes, you used to thought, they could just cast some spell or something but they almost never did it. They liked teasing and scaring humans too much.

You stopped running when the little fairy did. She waved you goodbye as she flew away, the sound of bells echoing in the silent forest, a thin bead of sweat running down your forehead as you took a deep breath.

And Lilia really liked to spoil you to the point of being suffocating. You suppose it was because you were a human, a mortal and ephemeral being in his eyes.

And yet, a member of his little family.

Sometimes you would hear playful laughter or the sound of branches breaking, but when you turned around there was no one there. Lilia was definitely in the mood to tease you today and it didn't seem like Silver or Malleus were around to stop him from continuing. A soft smile appeared on your lips. For someone so old and wise as he claimed to be, Lilia could be so silly.

They looked like they hadn't aged a single day in the past five years. And you remembered the time when you were a young child lost in those forests, confused and afraid, and crying inconsolably about how no one would find you. You remembered Lilia's gentle touch on your head and his gentle smile as he wiped your tears with his fingers or the way he held your hand as he led you out of the forest.

In the distance, a soft glow caught your attention. Running in that direction, you emerged into a dark clearing. The sun had set very quickly or perhaps it was Malleus's powers acting to conceal their presence, the forest you were in, despite being beautiful, had a reputation for being haunted by dangerous and treacherous fae.

The same fae in front of you.

The same fae who taught you how to dance, how to escape making a deal with a fae. Who treated you so gently, like you were made of glass.

The next day you returned. After telling the story to your parents, they didn't believe it and said you were dreaming. But you knew it wasn't. You walked purposefully through the forest, trying your best to retrace your steps as you also forced yourself to remember the way back home.

That day, you met Malleus, tall and stern, and dressed in black and green, and you asked if you could touch his horns. He laughed so hard he cried. But in the end, he let you touch his horns while he listened to you chatter about his father, making a comment or two sometimes.

Somehow, you felt like he looked more fae than human, sometimes the necklace he wore around his neck glowed and he had such a gentle, comfortable aura. Instead of sharing the sweets with Lilia, Malleus and Silver, you ended up falling asleep with the platinum boy under a willow tree. When you woke up that day, you were at the entrance to the forest, covered with palm leaves serving as a blanket.

In the days that followed, you brought them sweets. Your mother had told you that if you made a friend, you should share food with them so you wanted to do so, you brought so many sweets that they kept falling out of your pockets and you had to bend down to pick them up. This time, the one who came to your aid was Silver, he was also a human, but he told you that his biological parents had abandoned him in that forest and then a fae decided to take care of him.

Humans can be worse than fae, he told you. And his tone was full of pain as if he was older than he actually looked like.

Sebek, you met after running away from home for the first time. Your parents were fighting for some stupid reason again and it made you so stressed. You kicked every stone you found on the way and grimaced every time the sun touched your face with its rays. Everything in the world seemed boring and cruel that day. You, however, took your mind off it as you were captured in a trap, steel wires binding your legs together and pulling you up until you were suspended in the air.

But the sweets were gone. That night, you dreamed of big red eyes watching you sleep in the dark, but they were gentle and protective eyes, as if they wanted to guard your sleep.

To thank you for the sweets, for making friends with Silver and Malleus.

To this day you don't remember what Sebek was hunting or trying to do, but the story still made you laugh, especially because he was more panicked than you, screaming and shaking. And when Lilia came to his aid, he was also laughing at the situation.

Five years later and it still feels like nothing has changed. Silver had in his hands an ancient and delicate lyre, his fingers plucking his strings in a peaceful rhythm as if inviting his listener to relax and let go of their worries. He once tried to teach you how to play, but you didn't have much talent for it, preferring to listen rather than play.

And it was always a beautiful sight to watch him play, he was ethereal in those moments, as if he was playing a secret song that the world has forgotten, a song that made your heart inside your chest spin.

That called you. That made you feel welcome.

Malleus and Sebek, however, had no such concern and danced arm in arm and spinning in circles. It was a silly and fun dance, and at that moment, you wished you had your cell phone with you so you could register it forever, but you had quickly left the house and forgotten it.

The music was addictive, your body almost moving to the beat. But you stopped yourself in time, knowing that Lilia would offer you to dance with him, he always did because he knew you couldn't accept it. Dancing with a fae is like a drug, one that you don't have a medicine for and that once you try it nothing else in the world makes sense.

And whenever you would agree to dance with him, he'd go on and on without ever stopping.

Well, you'd have to commit this entire precious moment to your memory then, you suppose.

They noticed his presence almost immediately and Silver nodded his head in greeting as he played the last notes of his song.

After finishing their dance, Malleus came to you and, as he always did, wrapped you in a warm hug that instantly makes you melt. Your face sinking into his chest as he stole any and all worries you might have been harboring within yourself to him. A long sigh left your lips and you looked at him fondly.

"Any news to tell us, Yuu?" He asked.

So many things. More things than you could think of at that moment. School, new friends, new changes, everything was new and completely terrifying, and you were abandoning everything. Because it wasn't worth it.

There in that hug that ended very quickly, with those beings that everyone had an irrational fear against, you were at home. You were free to be who you were without any fear of possible rejection from them.

"Too much to say, not enough time for everything." You replied, a little laugh present in your voice. You held onto his shirt, silently asking for another hug and giving him your best puppy eyes, and Malleus, laughing, enveloped you into another of his warm hugs.

"But... I ran from home, this time for good." Your voice was muffled against Malleus shirt.

Sebek was beside you in a moment, and your ears hurt from anticipation. "What do you mean by that, little human?"

You winced, your lips wobbling as you tried not to cry. You failed in getting your voice steadier. "Mom and dad were fighting again... They were screaming, and there was crying, and at some point, they were breaking stuff. And they blamed me for everything, even if i didn't have any fault at all."

Malleus’s eyes widened, and his hands tightened over your shoulders, not out of anger, but out of a fierce, protective desperation. His sharp eyes softened as he saw the tears brimming in yours, the way you were trying so hard to hold them back, to not show any sign of weakness.

You fell into silence, too afraid to cry to continue speaking. When you cried while your parents were fighting, they used to belittle and mock you.

Your mom used to say that her life would be better without you in it.

But to him, there was nothing weak about your tears. It made his chest ache to see you so small and fragile, curling into yourself like you wanted to disappear. He tightened his hug over your figure.

“They blamed you?” Sebek repeated, his voice low and dangerous, as if he could scarcely believe it. “How dare they? Those insolent—” He stopped himself, his fangs bared for a moment before he managed to calm down. He could feel his rage bubbling, but he knew that anger would not help you right now.

“You are not at fault, little human. You never were.” He said softly, through gritting teeth.

You glanced up at him, trying to find comfort in his words, but the hurt you ignored for so long ran too deep. “But they said—”

“They were wrong!” Sebek’s voice boomed, making you flinch, but he immediately softened, realizing he was scaring you. He lowered his voice, though it still held a fierce intensity. “You should never have to bear such cruelty. Your worth does not depend on their words, and I won’t let you believe it does.”

“You don’t have to go back to them,” Sebek said, and there was a finality in his tone, a vow that left no room for argument. “You can stay here, on the woods, where no one can hurt you.”

The forest was quiet, save for the sound of your shaky breathing, and you felt the weight of their gaze on you, unwavering and heavy with emotion. Sebek didn’t always understand humans, but he understood enough to know that you needed protection, and he would do anything to provide it, as would Melleus and Simver.

Anything to make you feel safe, even if it meant guarding you from the very people who were supposed to love you.

You blinked at him, surprised by how quickly he made the decision for you, but a part of you felt relieved, a part of you were afraid they would send you away. “But… I won't be a burden?”

From behind Sebek, you saw a shadowy figure approaching fast, and in the blink of the eye, you realized who it was. Lilia was walking faster, his presence filling the space, his eyes glowing softly in the dim light. He had heard everything, and there was a sadness there, but also a determination that made your heart skip a beat.

Silver's eyes flashed with something unreadable, almost offended by the mere suggestion. “A burden?!” he exclaimed, his voice rising again before he caught himself, this time gentler but no less insistent.

“You could never be a burden. We—” he paused, his words catching in his throat before he continued, “we care for you. Do you not see that? If you are in pain, we will be there to carry it for you. If you are in need, we will help you. You belong with us.”

“What Sebek and Silver says is true,” He spoke, his voice was commanding, as if every word was a decree. “You are no longer alone, darling. The forest now welcomes you as your home now, as I welcome you into my family and we will not let you face any more of that suffering.”

You instantly melt; the tension leaving your shoulders. Part of you wanted to tell them that you didn’t want to impose, that you didn’t want to drag them into your problems, but another part — a much smaller, quieter part — felt relieved, like you could finally breathe. Like you didn’t have to keep fighting alone.

Lilia appeared beside Malleus, a soft, knowing smile on his lips. “You poor thing,” he said, his voice as light as a lullaby, yet with a hint of sadness. “You’ve been carrying so much weight by yourself, haven’t you? It must have been exhausting. But you don’t have to anymore. We’re here for you.”

Silver's usually sleepy eyes were now wide open and he was fully awake. “If your family can’t see how precious you are, then they don’t deserve you. We’ll take care of you, and you won’t have to worry about going back.”

You felt the weight of their words, the way they seemed so sure, so unyielding in their determination to keep you safe. It was overwhelming, and for a moment, you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They spilled down your cheeks, hot and unbidden, and before you could even try to wipe them away, Sebek took you from Malleus’s arms and into his.

His arms were firm and steady around you. “There, there, little human,” he murmured, his voice gentler than you’d ever heard it. “Cry if you must, but know this: you are not alone anymore. Not now, not ever.”

Malleus stepped closer, placing a hand on your head, his cool fingers brushing against your hair. “We will keep you safe,” he said softly, his tone carrying a promise that echoed through the room. “And if anyone dares to hurt you again, they will face our wrath. As the fae king, I promise you this.”

It was a strange feeling... To be surrounded by so much protectiveness. They were intense, determined. And you had been aching for something like this for so long — to be wanted, to not be a burden.

You leaned into Sebek’s embrace, your sobs slowly subsiding as the warmth of their presence surrounded you. Maybe it was wrong to feel comforted by this, but right now, you didn’t care. All you wanted was to believe that, for once, you could let go and be cared for, without fear or hesitation.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but they heard it. And in that moment, you felt the unspoken promise between you and them solidify, a bond that was as fierce as it was unbreakable.

For better or worse, you were theirs now, and nothing in this world — or any other — would change that.

#yandere diasomnia #malleus x yuu #malleus x mc #malleus x y/n #malleus x reader #lilia x yuu #lilia x mc #lilia x you #lilia x reader #sebek x mc #sebek x yuu #sebek x reader #silver x mc #silver x reader #silver x yuu #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #tw yandere

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formulaforza · 1 year ago

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—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. winter, the first time. the start of the year, the start of it all. minors dni, nsfw warnings under the cut. 7k words part two part three part four part five

18+ because: brat taming, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling, spit, unprotected sex, overstimulation, booty call!, masturbation (f receiving), voyeurism, mad sass, fucking porn without plot basically.

There’s nothing special about the club scene in Monte Carlo. If you’ve been to a club in any major city, anywhere in the world, you’ve been to a club in Monaco. It’s all neon lights and kaleidoscope colors and poorly lit dance floors and mid-tier DJs who think they’re the next coming of Jesus.

Tonight is no exception. The air is thick and heavy with the scent of floral perfume and alcohol, the entire room shaking with the pulsating beat of the bass, reverberating off every single corner and shaking the liquor in your glass. Bodies move—yours included—half in sync with the music, half in step with their drunken stupor. Perched in the safety of Charles’s section, away from the swaying forms of laughter and shouting and screaming, your entire body thumps alone to the beat from the DJ booth a couple meters away.

Across the section, Charles sits stoic on a couch, taking up a seat and a half and frozen like some magnetic force. His eyes are stuck on you in a way that pulls goosebumps from your skin, makes you irrational angry at him. You’re feeling particularly bratty today, egged on by the tequila and his visible annoyance.

You’re on your way to interject into his pity party when your sister catches your arm, pulls you by your bicep to dance with her. Her palms are sweaty and cold and you hope that it’s the condensation from her cold glass that’s got her all clammy. The two of you have always been quite a sight after a few drinks. You get your tolerance from your mother, are both disastrous lightweights, feel the need to give any and everyone around you a show.

The two of you twirl to the music with little effort, laughing like you’re seven and the hazard littered floor under your feet is the old brown carpet from the family room you grew up hosting dance parties in. It’s all hair and giggles and hands in the air like you just don’t care. Everytime your glance catches his, he’s staring back, nursing his drink and half participating in a conversation with your brother-in-law and Jo.

“What’s his fucking problem?” you ask, leaning over to shout into your sister’s ear.

“He can’t dance,” she slurs. You snort. He can dance.

You whistle, loud and commanding and cat-call-ish even though he’s already watching you. “Charles! Get out here and dance, you fucking buzzkill!”

Your sister joins in on the fun, playfully swaying her hips to the music, tossing out an imaginary fishing line to her husband and reeling him over, calling along teasingly to Charles. “Yeah, show us what you’ve got, Il Predestinato!”

Charles rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I don’t dance,” he calls back with a soft chuckle. He tries to play it cool, like always, but everyone in the room knows you’re pushing his buttons. You always are. The reason he keeps you around is the same reason you stay around; your families’ relationship predates any animosity between the two of you. That, and the friend group was founded before you loathed each other and it would be too much work to try and split it up now. You’d probably never see Joris again.

You dance closer to him, putting on a dramatic show and a poor fight against the urge to continue challenging him. “Come on,” you tug on his arm, just out your bottom lip into a pretty little pout. “Live a little.”

He’s never been able to turn down one of your challenges, however thinly veiled they might be. It’s his own personal sore spot, the one that you poke and prod as often as you can. Competition has always been the foundation of your mutual annoyance, it’s not going to suddenly change after some eighteen years of consistency. Finally, he relents, lets you think you’re pulling him to his feet, dragging him to dance with you and your sister.

His moves are stiff and awkward, almost hard to watch. You laugh, because he’s wound up so fucking tight in two weeks you’d have a diamond. “See!?” your sister laughs, the contagion of it spreading to even the brunt of the joke. “I told you!” she continues, slinking her arm around her husband’s neck sloppily. His arm grips her side to hold her steady. It makes you feel sick.

A smirk tugs on his lips, and for a brief moment, there’s a hint of something more in his eyes. Not annoyance or frustration. Something seven, something innocent and childish. It’s fleeting, and you take a deep breath because the music feels quieter now. You down what’s left of your cocktail to clear your head, to calm the sudden flutter of nerves.

The more he drinks and the longer he’s forced to dance, the lighter and more magnetic he becomes. “You know, Charles, I never thought I’d see the day,” you tease. He’s been in a near constant state of pity-party for weeks now, ever since his dumb ass got dumped by another girl wildly out of his league.

He rolls his eyes, but his tone is as amused as it is drunk. “Don’t get too excited. It’s the liquor,” he retorts, a piss poor attempt at downplaying how much fun he’s having. He wouldn’t dare to give you the satisfaction. You lean in closer, brush your body against his, fueled by the noise and the alcohol.

“The liquor doing the touching, too?” you ask.

He’s always been a touchy drunk. Since before you and your friends were allowed to drink, he’s been hands-on. And maybe it’s because this is the first time he’s grabbing your hips, the first time his broad hand is flat over your stomach, but you’d never noticed him as this touchy with his girlfriends or his girls that appear when he’s around. Whatever it is, the more he drinks, the more comfortable he is with his hands on you, and the less you find the nerve to care.

It doesn’t matter how many times he does it, though. Every touch burns your skin. It’s a sick little game you two play. Sick and twisted and so, so unlike the two of you.

Watch yourself—he warns, hand on the small of your back. You play with fire. Well established and well documented, though; you never back down either. No, the thrill of annoying him is enough to dive head-first, to push his buttons until they stick. “Am I?” you ask, as innocently as the tequila can muster, taking hold of his wrist and moving it so his arm is wrapped around your midsection, fighting to settle in the space between your waistband and shirt hem.

You respond to every one of his careful touches, ever lingering finger on your arm and your waist and your back. When you close your eyes, you imagine the nonsense patterns he draws on your skin like it’s on canvas in a museum, hung front and center just for you. Your inhibitions are slipping too, and you let yourself trail wandering fingertips over his body, too.

This isn’t the Charles you’re used to, the one you go head-to-head with every fifteen minutes. This is something entirely new, so far into uncharted territory you’re not even sure which way is north. There’s something particularly intriguing about the nerves bouncing around your gut.

Everything fades away into the dark and crowded club. You don’t know if your sister and brother-in-law are still standing there, if any of your friends are. All you know if the electric charge of this, of every teasing remark and touch that draws you closer, forces you to test the waters of the newfound layer of tension.

Everything is building, it feels like, to some grand crescendo of emotion and desire. Before there’s room to explore it, though, to dive deeper into the unspoken shift, the moment is interrupted by the return of the friends you didn’t notice leaving.

The night drags on, the lines between annoyance and attraction blurring into some chaotic muddle of intoxication. Nothing is clear, nothing except the sobering and unignorable pull. It lingers in the air above you, in the space between like a secret just begging to be unraveled.

You’ve got another drink now, because you can only think of one decision that would be worse than more tequila. In due time, you’re worried you’re a lost cause when it comes to that choice as well. His eyes stay on you, even from a distance, and you revel in the glory of his attention. Embolden by it all, you continue fucking with him. “Having fun yet, Charles?” you ask, knowing smile, voice dripping in subtle suggestion.

He raises a brow, the corners of his lips quirking up. You don’t think you’ve ever spent much time looking at them, the soft shade of pink and the softer skin. “I suppose I can tolerate it,” he replies with teasing eyes. He’s irritated by your laugh, by your proximity, by your lips brushing against his ear when you whisper; you’re not the only one here trying to have fun. His jaw tightens but he doesn’t take your bait. Instead, he pulls you closer, sways in rhythm with you and replies, “I’m here to enjoy myself, not entertain you.”

He sends your brattiness running full-tilt. Forces you to carefully consider every movement, every ounce of playfulness that you allow to seep into your demeanor and the proactive sway of your hips. You grin at him every chance you get, sly and calculated, daring him to resist.

You lean in close, brush against his ear and can blame it on practicality, on the bass and the music and the DJ if anyone were to question your actions. You rest a hand on his chest. “I know you love my attention.”

His breath hitches at your audacity, heart racing so quick you can feel it in your palm. He pulls you closer, dangerously close to your lips and says, “you talk too much. Maybe it’s time someone shuts you up.”

You scoff, low and teasing. “I’d like to see you try.”

[18 minutes later]

You step into the well-lit lobby less than a pace behind him. Your hands are interlocked, have been for every block of the darkened streets—since he grabbed yours and pulled you out of the club. “Admit it,” you giggle. “You love having me push your buttons.”

He remains stoic, jaw set as he pushes the button on the elevator. The tension is at a boiling point. You’re either about to kill each other, to be on the news for some grand double murder, or something so, so much worse is going to unfold.

He leads you to the apartment without a word, but as soon as the door closes behind him, all is lost. Your head is bumping into the drywall before you even realize what’s happening, his lips harsh against yours, the pent up frustration and desire snapping like a dried twig.

It’s fierce and passionate and while you never, not for a single moment in your life, imagined what he would taste like, you somehow knew it would be like this, cool and fresh and drunk. He licks into your mouth, messy and intense, teeth clacking and both of you fighting for some nonexistent upper hand.

Fireworks are going off outside. They shake the windows with explosive gravitas as you’re blindly led by his backwards steps down the hallway. You realize that in an entire lifetime of knowing each other, this is the first time you’ve been in his place. It’s not what you expected, from what you can gather—all clutter and red cars and a boy who never had to drop his dream. “They’re going to look for us,” you say between sloppy, open mouthed kisses.

He mumbles against your skin, strong hands on either side of your jaw. “Let them look.”

You walk through a doorway, into a bedroom clad with clutter and blue sheets. He would have blue sheets. There’s another firework, loud and booming, it makes you jump. You check your watch over his shoulder, pretend your hand doesn’t shake. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Okay.” Your knees bump into his and he sits on the edge of the bed.

You laugh, climb onto his lap, your arms strewn around his shoulders, broad and strong and you laugh again–this time into his mouth. What the fuck is going on. Seriously, what the fuck is this? “Happy New Year.”

He sighs, pulls his mouth from yours long enough to roll his eyes, to speak annoyedly into the hot air between your lips. “Yeah, whatever. Happy New Year.”

“Charles,” you mutter, hand on his chest. You think he’s going to regret this more than you will. People have always told you he’s the best kind of person. You’re not held in the same regard, and you know it. Some people are made to regret and others are made to be the regret.

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs, but it’s curt and passive. Annoyed, as always, even when he palms at your ass, traces his hands along the bottom of your hiked up dress and pulls you down against him with a bruising grip. “Shut the fuck up.” You tug at the hem of his shirt, pull it off over his head in a swift movement.

“You’re doing a piss-poor job at making me.”

He moves you like you’re a fucking doll, like it’s lightwork, tossing you down against the mattress and swapping your positions in a swift movement. The strength and agility of it makes your head spin. He’s not supposed to make your head spin, he’s supposed to make it ache.

But no, no. You do ache for him. All of you aches for him, for his calloused hands and the roughness of his jeans against your thighs and the soft contrast of his lips against everything else. It’s embarrassing. You can’t believe he’s got you like this, hands pinned above your head while he buries his tongue in your mouth, grinds his hips against yours. The coarse denim is almost painful on your sensitive skin, but the growing bulge pulling the fabric tight is more intoxicating than any cocktail.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he says, bites a bruise against the skin just above your clavicle. “Spoiled little shit.”

He sinks to his knees, big blue or green or whatever fucking color his eyes are today watching you intently, boring into you with blown, hungry pupils. His fingers trail along your underwear, pulling the thin, lacey fabric to the side, and then removes them all together. He gloats when he runs his thumb through your folds. “So fucking wet.”

“It’s not for you,” you goad.

“Oh?” He nods slowly, spreading your slick with the steady digit, watching you carefully for reaction. “For who then?”

Your eyes flutter shut when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, circles it slowly, teases you. He’s unfocused, his mind lapsing and giving you a much needed in, a clear shot to piss him off. “Your teammate.”

“Fuck off.” You first.

“You’re right, Charles,” you speak slowly, careful to control your breathing, to hide every tell you might have. “Someone should shut me up. Do you know anyone?” Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside you, curls them like someone had given him a diagram of your body. You gasp at the suddenness of it all. Yeah, he mutters, utterly delighted with himself. Yeah, I think I know someone.

You roll your eyes, push his head down, down, mouth onto your core. There, in the midst of licking a long stripe through your cunt, he fucking laughs, shakes his head with a subtlety you’d never perceive if it wasn’t for the tip of his nose bumping your clit when he does it. At least he can follow basic fucking instructions.

His dick must hurt pretty damn bad, all hard and swollen in his pants, because he’s unbuttoning his jeans and freeing himself from the constraints of the fabric while lapping at you, the other hand still fucking into you with steady pace and hazy curl. You can’t see it, view obstructed by the mattress and limbs and hair, but you can tell by the way his shoulders move that he’s trying to get himself off at the same time he works on you.

You’re not going to make his job that easy. You require all of his attention, pure and undivided and hopefully just as infuriated as you are. You reach down to the apex of your legs, pull his head up by his chin. “Just fuck me, already, you prick.”

He rises to his feet, shakes his head, “you’re a needy little thing,” he remarks. Needy? You haven’t fucking seen needy.

He guides the head of his cock through your folds, spreading slick and spit and smacking himself against your cunt.

Your lips purse into a sharp line. “Don’t tease me.”

“Why not?” He taunts, “you’ve been teasing for hours.”

“It’s different,” you grumble.

“How?” You could strangle him, him and all his questions. What’s a person have to do to get fucked properly around here? You already sacrified your morals by pulling tight against the navy blue sheets. A woman can only make so many sacrifices.

You groan, heavy and exasperated. He’s such a pest. “It just–oh, fuck you–” without warning, he plunges into you, buries himself in your cunt until he bottoms out, skin on skin and the sore sting of him stretching you. Your fingers bruise into his arms, nails scraping over his shoulder blades with a gasp. He gives you no time to adjust to him, rutting into you with deep, measured thrusts. What was that, he prodes. Somehow, you find the poise to stabilize yourself, to reply smugly. “it just is.”

His objective isn’t your pleasure, no. That would be his prerogative, a side privilege, a requirement in his quest to get you to close your mouth and stop pestering for once. Making you come is just another box to check.

You don’t fuck someone if you’re not going to finish, though. Sleeping with Charles might be a lapse in judgment, but being someone’s play toy, letting him reap without sowing, that’s a complete disregard of your dignity

Your fingers find your clit, circle it in just the right sequence, combining with the curve of his cock to push you closer, closer, closer to the edge of the fucking world. Your entire body burns, everywhere, all over, all at once you sweat. Tell me–he insists, voice short and breathy. Tell me when you’re going to come. “I thought you were trying to shut me up?”

“Just, fuck, just tell me.” He palms over your breasts, still covered by your bra and the fabric of your dress, however thin. “So many fucking clothes,” he grumbled, stalling inside you, hands slipping under your back, between you at the mattress to pull you off the bed. You hastily pull the dress over your head, toss it somewhere onto the clothing cluttered floor. Better? You ask. “Better,” he nods, bites your bottom lip roughly, licking against your teeth. One of the hands that explore the skin of your back make quick work of the clasp on your bra, dropping the straps from your shoulders and your back is against the sheets again, his hands groping at you, pinching your nipple between his middle and ring finger, working over it until you’re humming profanities and huffing into his mouth.

Hate and desire is such a fine, blurry line. Anyone who tells you differently is a liar.

“M’gonna,” you choke on your words. “I’m–shit–I’m coming.”

“Yeah,” He picks up his pace, maintains a steady, toe-curling rhythm. “Come for me,” his voice heavy and growled. “Come on my dick.”

You do. You come for him, hard and long, wrapping a leg around his hip in a failed attempt to still him, to just be full of him and nothing more. He’s stronger, though, and fucks you through the whole thing, faster, harder, big hands braced on your hips for leverage. You explore the idea that a person really could be fucked in half, forced right open.

“Good try,” you sputter, shaky and broken words leaving your lips before you’ve found a gravity that isn’t him. You lean up to kiss him, wrap your hand around the back of his neck and pull him to meet you halfway. Your fingers tickle the short hair at the nape of his neck, raise goosebumps to his skin. “Maybe next time,” you hum into his open mouth.

He spits a long string of saliva into your mouth when you move to close the gap. You laugh around it, down it in a single gulp and lick your lips, sticking out your tongue to showcase your empty mouth, big innocent doe-eyes watching his reaction, his eye roll and devilish smirk.

“Like I said–” you start, but he’s flipping you over, tossing you around like a ragdoll. You giggle, high on the teasing and the taunting and then he’s fucking your face into the mattress. He’s got your hair gathered up into a ratty ponytail, uses it like a handle, forcing your back into an arch, your ass to perk up into the air.

God, he’s so fucking deep, turning you into a mess of bruises and sweat stricken skin. Your hips bounce back against him, angle in any imaginable way in an attempt to feel him deeper, to feel him in your stomach and your chest and your head. To feel him everywhere that counts.

“Putain, taking me so good, baby” he groans, lets the praise and the pet name slipping past his lips in a moment that goes unnoticed by neither of you. He smacks your ass with a firm hand, trying to mask his words after they’ve already been spoken. Your eyes roll back into your head and you come again, without warning. You decide before you get to think about it that it was the stinging imprint of his hand that pushed you tumbling over the edge. Whatever the real reason, you’re up two-nothing, or, depending how you look at it, he’s the one winning.

That’s all any of this is, one big game. A power struggle. You’re always fighting to win, and this is not different. If there’s a way to lose at a game where everyone is supposed to win, one of you is going to fucking find it and force it on the other.

You’re the one doing the flipping, now. The pushing and the shoving so he’s on his back. You straddle him and he gives you this look like he’s fully pussy-drunk, sick and euphoric and floating somewhere far from here. You’re so winning at this. “Jesus Christ,” you poke, “wipe your fucking drool.”

His entire face contorts when you sink down onto him. Everytime you think you’ve reached a limit, he finds a way to hit a spot impossibly deeper than the last. His hips lift up off the bed to meet you halfway, rutting into pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had, hand moving to your cunt, thumbing lazily at your clit, leaving you fuzzy and drunk in a mess of mumbled moans above him.

When you come for the third time, messy and sweaty, nothing that leaves your lips is distinguishable, a mess of French and English and curses and nonsensical mewls. “Fuck you,” he moans, breath shaky when he pulls himself out of you. Your body clenches around air, aches for him to return.

He does, after he moves you back into the position it all started in. “So close,” he tells you, sinking slowly into you, his sigh hot and alcoholic on your shoulder. His pace is slow, then fast, then slow again. He’s as rapid as his breath is irregular. You better pull out–you groan, every muscle in your body strung out and exhausted and you’re coming again. It’s blinding white behind your closed lids, ears ringing and muscles flexing involuntarily. He’s wrecked you, finally, left you a mumbling mess.

He pulls out almost in sync with your orgasm, jerks himself no more than twice between your legs before he’s coating your stomach in hot stripes of cum, loud, guttural moans leaving his lips in a way that looks and sounds practically pained. “Christ,” he heaves, watches on as your fingers dance through his orgasm, spreading it over your skin and coating your fingers. You don’t break eye contact when you stick two of them into your mouth, swirl your tongue around them tauntingly, sucking them clean and pulling them from your mouth with a pop. You hold the clean hand up for him to see, palm facing him. When you turn it, you pull down all but your middle finger, flip him off cockily.

He swats you hand away, “Never fucking again,” he tells you.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” you scoff. “I never want to see the inside of this apartment again.”

“Why are you here, then?” He remarks, turning the corner into what you assume is the bathroom, tossing a towel to you from across the room. You clean yourself up before anything dries, before coming up with a quick rebuttal.

You don’t come up with one, mind as tired as the rest of you. This game has been exhausting. “We’re never talking about this,” you say, pulling your dress over your head, stuffing your bra into your handbag because you aren’t sure you have the strength to clasp it closed. “Ever.”

“No shit,” he says, tosses your underwear in the general direction of you.

You bend over to pick them up, step into them with the snap of the elastic. “Promise me.” You have no idea where your shoes are, but he’s already ushering you out of the room, herding you down the long hall with wide, swooping waves of his arms.

“I promise.”

“Pinky,” you say, spot your shoes haphazardly stepped out of in the entryway. You don’t have any memory of them ever being on.

“Absolutely not.”

“Charles,” you lean against the wall to slip your heels on, hook up at him with a sober glare. He closes his eyes like you won’t be able to see them roll behind his lids, pinches the bridge of his nose and squints before dropping a heavy breath, holding out a pinky to you. You interlock it with yours. “Thank you.”

He pulls his hand from yours, turns the lock on his front door and swings it open, fingers wrapped around the edge, other hand gesturing out into the hallway. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“With pleasure,” you say, stepping past him and into the well-lit hallway of sprawling marble floors. You stop in front of the elevator, press the button and wait for his inevitable comment.

“The whole brat-schtick you’ve got going on isn’t as believable when your leg shakes underneath you,” he calls down the hall. You don’t turn your head to face him, just extend your arm in his direction and flip him off. You hear his chuckle as he latches the door shut behind you.

Everything about today has been dreary–from the near constant mist that falls over the city, to the chilly temperatures, to the poor excuses for men that grace the screen of your dating app. This is not how Fridays in your twenties are meant to be spent, sulking in the dark of your bedroom after a miserable day at work.

You’re supposed to be out, partying with friends and making drunken decisions that have you waking up in a stranger’s bed after a good night you hardly remember.

God, you need to get fucked. It’s been months. Two months and ten days–not that you’re counting. Because you’re not. Counting. You aren’t.

You’re just restless, basking in the loneliness of the night, unable to shake the weight of your thoughts, of two months and ten days ago. Of Charles and how infuriatingly good he’d made you feel. The complexities of your relationship, the shift in the very DNA of what you know, it makes your heart race–a messy muddle of annoyance and desire that yearns to be untangled.

You give up on the dating apps, know that even if you do match with someone, there’s nothing that can be done to solve your problem tonight. You opt instead to scroll through social media aimlessly, searching for any distraction from the ache in your gut. Your hand unconsciously slips under the hem of your shirt, cups your breast while you scroll and scroll and scroll. It does little to quell your struggles. In fact, the game is over the moment you become conscious of your hand’s placement, the moment you start to massage your breast, to run your fingers over your nipple until it’s hard and perky.

You switch to the other breast, fingers gently tracing over the skin, sending chills up your arms, pinpointing the ache in your core. Your hand slides down your stomach, dips below the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear. You’re so worked up–pent up, reaching a boiling point.

Your middle finger glides through your folds, grazes over your clit, teases the slick at your entrance before dipping in, collecting enough to spread it around. Your clit is swollen, needy like the rest of you, and the pad of your fingers do little to relieve the pressure. Your fingers move clockwise, then counter. Vertical and horizontal and every combination of every direction and even though you can’t remember the last time you were this horny, this desperate to come, you can’t.

You slip in a finger, and then another, try to find the right curl and the right spot–to no avail. Now, you’re thinking about his fingers, about how much bigger his hands are, how his nimble fingers pumped in and out of you with sheet-gripping, whimper-inducing pace.

Your phone taunts you, his contact behind the locked screen just waiting to be messaged.

You try to resist. You hate him. He hates you. God, he knows how to fuck you, though; veiny hands and thick cock leaving you a writhing mess. Fuck. Fuck, why can’t your fingers move the way his did?

You cave, reaching over to grab your phone and text him. Hey. What are you up to tonight? It’s a mistake, you know that it is. He’s so damn annoying, there’s nothing about him that doesn’t drive you up a wall. Frustration makes the heart go fonder, you suppose, or maybe the cunt ache harder.

Within moments, your phone is buzzing against your palm with his reply. Chilling at home. You coming over?

You roll your eyes. No.

Ok.

You bite your bottom lip so hard you think you might accidentally draw blood. It’s phantom, almost, the way you can so perfectly imagine the sting of him stretching you out, the soreness of his bruising kisses, the swollen, wet head of his dick slapping against your clit. Come over.

You couldn’t pay me.

Door’s unlocked.

Give me 20.

You’re in the bedroom when he knocks. Three times, you wonder why he isn’t just walking in. You ignore the banging, let the universe decide for you if he’s meant to turn back and walk his happy ass out of your building. The universe decides he won’t be doing that, though, because he knocks again. Louder this time.

You pull yourself out of bed, feet creaking on the hardwood floors as you move to pull the door open. “I told you it was unlocked,” you grumble.

“Eh,” he shrugs, dumb fucking grin on his face. “Wasn’t up for your games.”

You internally debate just how bad you need him here, if it’s worth all the trouble that is him. It’s not, almost certainly it isn’t. You invite him in anyway.

“So, what’s the deal? Can’t get yourself off, so you call me?” He teases. Your frustrated blush gives you away before a witty comeback can slap the smirk off his face. “Oh my god,” he chuckles. “I was fucking around, but really?”

There’s no point in trying to lie now, not when your face has already betrayed your trust and revealed the truth. “Calm down,” you groused. “The last thing this world needs if your head to get any fucking bigger.”

He continues laughing like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. You want to smack the smile off his face, dimples and all. “The last thing this world needs is for this–” he gestures between the two of you, “–to become a thing.”

You mock his movements, the dumb look on his face. “This is not a thing. It’s just two friends–”

“–We aren’t friends.”

You sigh through gritted teeth. “Two not friends helping each other out.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, chews on the inside of his cheek while his eyes trace your finger, head to toe and back to head again. “You do know how ridiculous you sound, right?”

You breathe out in resignation, heading down the hall towards your room. “Can we just get on with it?”

“No.”

You stop in your tracks, turn on your heels. What the fuck is he here for, then? “No?” You close the gap between the two of you, plant your hands firmly on either side of his jaw and kiss him, all tongue and spit and rough lips. You knock him off balance, falling out of step when he kisses you back with a matching intensity, hands hovering over your hips. He doesn’t rest them there, you can feel the warmth in the space between your skin and his, the force that pulls you together.

When he does settle his hands, it’s not to deepen the kiss, to swallow any more frustration. It’s to put distance between your mouths. “I want you to–”

You nibble on his earlobe, cut him off with your hushed words. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, I want–”

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he commands, voice failing to waiver to your hushed level, an air of snugness to him.

“Charles,” your voice cracks with his name, a hint of your under the surface insecurity peeking through, putting themselves on display for him. Here! Here! Look at me!

“Show me, or I’m leaving,” he says, and it’s all throaty and husky.

(Eleven minutes later)

Legs spread for him, two fingers moving busily against your core, circling your clit, teasing your hole.

He stares at you like he can see your fucking soul, watches from his spot across the room, leant against the old wooden dresser, arms folded and ankles crossed. You stare back–harder, maybe–like if you win the little contest your cheeks won’t burn so bright, you won’t feel so exposed, so vulnerable, so embarrassed.

Those feelings fade, they do, with each flick of your wrist. With every glance of his hungry eyes to your fingers, to your cunt, tracing their way up and down your body, you feel calmer and calmer. And when he runs his hand over his mouth, along the stubble of his jaw and off his chin, you’re closer and closer.

It pulls whimpers, soft and slow and sweet, from your lips. There’s a sick thrill to it, to him seeing her like this, all needy and open and sensitive. It’s empowering, almost.

He breaks no more than twice, watches every brow quirk, lid flutter, and lip twitch with raw, intimate eyes. He’s less interested in what you do to yourself, the curve of your fingers or the noises they create, than he is in the way you react to the movements.

“You’re not even fucking watching,” you say, the letter sounds falling to your breath, hitching as your fingers angle just right.

“Watching what matters.”

“Oh? And, uh–” you huff. “What’s that?”

He laughs, dimples digging deep into his cheeks. You’ve always thought they made his smile so childish, like you can’t take anything seriously when it comes from someone with primary-school dimples and giddy eyes. You don’t struggle to take it seriously, now. “You’re thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh parting your lips. “Says who?”

He pushes himself off the dresser, saunters over with heavy feet, stopping at the foot of the bed. “What are you thinking about?” He humors.

Your eyes roll. You’re thinking about a lot of things. Half a dozen, atleast. About your fingers, the way they move against your swollen cunt, sticky with creamy slick, and how his fingers are that much longer than yours. About how loud he walks, how his heavy feet stand at the end of your bed, crossed arms that pull his t-shirt tight across his chest. About the fact that you’re not sure you locked the door behind him because you were so distracted by the way his sweatpants hung from his waist. About how he doesn’t bother to adjust or hide the protruding bulge under the fabric right now. About the curve of his cock, about how pathetic and full it makes you, utterly unable to spend time thinking about anything but how well he stretches you out. About his hair, flat and straight and wholly unstyled, how your hands would mess it up so nicely, tug and twist until he has something smart to say. Beyond frustratingly, he’s right. As you quickly approach a high, breath quickened and movements desperate, all you’re thinking about is him. “Things.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, ever the rake, unsatisfied with your response.

You add a third finger, steady pace and a held stare. The muscles in your leg twitch. You’re so fucking close. “What are you thinking about?”

He sways, rocks his weight from his left foot to the right, runs his tongue over his teeth. “Things.”

A coy smile upturns the corner of your lips. “Mmhmm,” you mock.

He moves around the bed, trails his fingers over your skin; from your ankle, along the bone of your shin, a bruise on your knee. They stall on your thigh, trace small, soft circles on the inside of your leg. “You really want to know?”

He’s such a tease, keeps moving up, up, up, over your stomach and through the valley of your breast. “I–ah– I,” you stutter through your words, fingers working tirelessly to push you over the edge. Restless, further irritated by his delicate touch, his fingers up to your jaw now, slotting themselves there, you nod. “Yes.”

He leans over you, your lips inches apart, open and hot breathed. “Too bad,” he whispers into the space between, closing the gap and kissing you with an insatiable kind of fervor. Your fingers still, your other hand reaching to grip the back of his neck, to pull him deeper into the kiss. It’s a kiss that’s half as good as the sex, the breaking of the unbearable tension that’s filled the room while he’s watched, the promise of what’s to come. A lustful implication. His hand leaves your jaw when you pull apart for air, moving over your stilled hand. “Let me?” He asks, and it doesn’t feel like much of a question, the way he’s already slipping his fingers under yours before you can even squeak out an answer.

There’s something entirely different about his fingers, like the way that you can’t tickle yourself. You can’t predict his moves, every movement of every ridge of his fingerprints is something entirely surprising. “Yeah, fuck, you make, ah, make yourself…” You give up on the sentence, your body failing your mind in its ability to spit out a comeback. Yeah, you wish you could tell him. Yeah, make yourself fucking useful.

He laughs, slides his long middle finger inside you, pumps it twice and slips in another. You gasp at his sudden movement. “You’re embarrassing yourself, baby.”

Your back arches off the sheets. “Don’t call me that,” you seethe.

“But,” he curls his fingers against the spot you’ve been trying to reach all night. A moan tumbles from your mouth and he smirks. “It makes my job so easy.”

“Fuck you.”

“I was going to let you come first, but,” he chuckles. He’s so proud of himself it makes you ill. “If you insist.”

His hand stills, threatens to pull out of you entirely, but you’re covering it with your own, holding him there when you look up, hips instinctively grinding against him. “I’ll kill you. I will.”

You’re pushing him out of your apartment by the end of night, locking the door behind him. Your leg shakes when you slide down the door onto the floor. This is the last time, it has to be. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence. Thrice. Thrice would be a pattern. You won’t let it become a pattern.

You wake up at seven-thirty and your hair is still in knots, your body still aching from him. You find a new bruise every time you look in the mirror. You can’t shake the image of his messy hair, of the feeling of the brown locks between your fingers and the sound he’d make when you’d tug on them.

It won’t be happening again.

#oi #this is getting me sent to hell.#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #ferrari

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thewritersaddictions · 3 months ago

Text

Day Sixteen: Aaron Hotchner + Dirty Dancing

The shoes and clothes are stuffed away in a box in the garage. Your life is diffierent now, there's no need for the six-inch heels or the lace like outfits when you're now a mom of two beuatiful kids.

Every now and again you think about your past, how Aaron had met you. The lap dance that had turned into your talking more about your past, and where you wanted your future to go.

It was nice then just as it is now to talk to Aaron about the things that make it hard to go to bed at night. The kids are off at school, Aarons off at work, and well you're a stay at mom.

You tidy up, keep the house warm and light all, make dinners (Which Aaron tells you that you don't have to do). Tonight you're thinking of following his words. You pull the box down from the top of the shelf in the garage. Slipping the garage door close as you breath in.

The walk up to your bedroom is quiet. The alexa in the kitchen isn't loud enough to make it upstiars and into your bedroom. The box isn't heavy by any means, but the weight that it holds is immense. The black heels and the sparkly clothes is what catch your eye first.

Among other clothes. Like a red lacy set of bra and panites, mesh tights that you remember leaving imprints on your skin. It all comes flooding back, that night you met Aaron is so burned into your memories that it's hard not to want to recreate it again.

A plan is set and you can't help but grow excited. The afternoon you go pick up your kids from school, asking them all sorts of questions about what they learned and how they liked what you packed them for lunch. A few hours later your darling husband comes home.

Drops his bag by the door, and comes over to you first. Kissing your cheek sweetly before giving each kid a hug. Your heart beats faster as the night goes on. all through dinner which was take out by a good mexican resturant not far from you.

A good movie on the tv that has your two children giggling and then falling asleep without a single peep.

Aaron takes your son, lifting him up and into his arms. "I got her baby." He says sweetly to you as you go to lift your daughter up into your arms. You hum, and nod. Before following him up the stairs.

You press a sweet kiss to your sons head, before rushing into your room while Aaron gets your daughter up to bed. The rush to get into the bra, and panites with matching garter belt as you feeling a few years younger.

You don't except Aaron to come to bed just yet, he's got work and always leaves that for after you, and your children go to bed at night. So you quielty walk to his office. The light on the desk is on, giving the room an earthy mood. A perfect mood you might add, you as crawl on all fours to the side of Aarons desk.

When he turns to look at you, his jaw draps and thers something behind those pretty brown eyes. "What are you doing?" He asks leaning back into the leather desk chair. "I found some old things in the garage today." You answer.

"Hmm I can see." He swallows hard, his adam bobs in his throat and his bottom lips turns a little red between his teeth. "What are you looking for, sir?" You say in sultry voice, a smirk planted on that beautiful face of yours.

A quick quirk of Aarons brow and he pushes the chair back even further. "How about you come up here into my lap and show me what you go babygirl!" You don't remember it going this way the first time, but the way your body grows with heat inbetween your legs and your heart beats a bit louder, and a bit faster in your chest as you loving every fucking minute of walking into the garage this morning.

"There are rules here." You say to your husband as you sit in his lap. "Hmm like what darling?" He asks playing along with you. "Theres no touching the merchandise." You giggle a little inwardly of course, but the groan of frustatrion is so gratifiting that leaves Aarons mouth.

"Do I get to fuck the merchandise at least?" He asks, maybe after two kids you think he'd look at your differently, but he doesn't. You hum, and think about it for a second grinding yourself into his tight slacks.

"I think that can be arranged for the right price of course." You mutter when you press your lips into his. Sealing whatever game you've started.

Completed on: 10/19/24

Posted on: 10/20/24

Kinktober 24'-

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 5 months ago

Text

Part V

Word count: 3000+

Warnings: none

Autumn themed divider by tsunami-of-tears

Part IV | Part VI

You woke up carefully tucked under warm covers in the bed even though you were certain you fell asleep on your usual spot. Soft light of the early morning filtered through the open curtains, changing every glass surface into kaleidoscope of colours. Maids drew curtains every evening, but you liked to watch the night sky and count stars, so after maids left for night, you always opened them again. Seeing those blinking lights, you didn't feel so lonely.

When your eyes got used to brightness, a clear blue sky without a single cloud greeted you, accompanied by colourful leaves dancing in a gentle breeze. For a while you just lay there and watched the show. It was comforting. Your thoughts were wandering until they stopped at a certain one.

Sighing heavily you rolled to the other side. You didn't want to get up. Maybe if you said that you didn't feel well, they would let you be. Just imagining that you would have to go to the garden today as well, made you feel sick. You were sure that you were supposed to take a walk and not to train for marathon. The other day you had to run for hours after the maids, so as not to get lost in this great labyrinth of corridors and winding paths. You didn't even have a chance to look around or stop to catch a breath. In the evening you were so tired that you fell asleep as soon as maids were gone.

With a groan you sat up, your entire body protested in pain. Whether you wanted or not, you had to get up. It was your husband's order. You couldn't ignore it, if you wanted him to notice you more in the future.

As soon as you limped to the vanity and with hiss took a seat, someone knocked. The doors opened and two maids walked in.

"Good morning, my Lady. How did you sleep?"

Astonished you looked up. Those were clearly not the maids who had been taking care of you until now. They were always very reserved and talked with you only when it was necessary.

"We are new here, madame. I'm Ellen."

"And I'm Irene. We are so happy to be able to serve you."

They bowed with wide smiles. You gaped at them, eyes wide. You weren't sure how to respond to such friendly greeting.

"I-.. It's nice to meet you," you blushed.

Their smiles only grow wider and they immediately got to work.

"You are so pale, madame. Are you sure you feel well? Should we send for healer?" Ellen asked as she carefully combed your tangled hair.

"That won't be necessary. I think I'm fine," you answered shyly.

Irene emerged from the closet with comfortably looking shoes that matched with the dress that they helped you to get in. "Hopefully the walk on fresh air will make you feel better, madame," she smiled kindly. "The weather is really nice today, it certainly will be a warm day."

It was hardly thirty minutes since they appeared, yet you already felt so good in their company that you dared to do a small talk with them. You were sure that the thing you were about to suggest, wasn't common and at home you would be severally punished for even thinking about it, but you felt uneasy every time these two lovely girls called you madame. There was also a chance that they would laughed you out. Nonetheless, you wanted to give it a try. You gathered courage, took a deep breath and let the words out before you could change your mind.

"You can call me Y/N," you whispered almost inaudibly.

Their eyes widened so much that they threatened to fall to the floor and roll away. "Are you sure we can, madame? Won't you mind it?"

You shook your head and they squealed happily in unison. They started chirping merrily about anything that came to their minds, trying to engage you in conversation even more than before. You, on the other hand, peeked at them curiously whenever you had an opportunity.

They both looked young, around your age, but they could be already century or two old. Ellen had dark brown hair that in waves fell to her shoulders and heart shaped face with soft green eyes. Irene was a bit taller than her friend, with light reddish brown hair combed into a ponytail, big brown eyes and a few freckles on her nose. They both were real beauties and seemed to be kind-hearted and cheerful.

Unlike the previous maids, they weren't in hurry once you left the chambers and made sure you get to know your surroundings and learn way back to your bedroom. Slowly walking down the hallways, they pointed out in different directions, naming and showing you the rooms and ballrooms that you passed by. It helped a great deal and you didn't feel so lost in this enormous castle anymore, even though you doubted you would remember it all on the first try.

As the huge glass double doors to the garden came to view, soldiers guarding there, friendly winked at girls, moved from their stances and opened them wide for you. The brisk air filled your lungs and cooled down your hot faces. Inside of the castle was nicely warm, but as you were walking around it became too hot and you almost started sweating. However now, you were grateful for the extra layer in form of cardigan that maids found for you.

"What a beautiful day," Ellen chirped with arms spread wide. "It's so nice to be outside and not have to worry that someone gets mad at me for that."

"And the smell," Irene sighed taking a deep breath. They seemed to be happy that they could get out of the castle. "I have aunt in Spring. Air there is sweet and full of scents of all kinds of flowers that bloom there, but nothing beats the smell of Autumn."

Imitating Irene you stopped and inhaled deeply. You didn't have time to notice it before, but the air was really fresh here, the earthy scent with pinch of sweetness calling you out. Maybe it wasn't a punishment after all.

"Hmm," Ellen pouted. "You are so lucky that you can travel to other courts. I'd love to see the world, too."

Stepping onto a narrow path between the flower beds, loose strands of your hair danced in the gentle breeze that brought a familiar scent of apples. With a hope you looked around finding nothing just flowers, trees and bushes, and your two maids discussing which Court they would like to visit and why. Shaking head at your naivity you looked up at the windows of the castle with a sad smile.

'Which one could be his,' you wondered. It'd been weeks since you saw him for the last time. If he didn't carry you to the bed every night, you would think that he even wasn't here.

You turned back to your companions who patiently waited for you with knowing smiles. You didn't even notice that they stopped talking. Caught in the act, you blushed fiercely, but they didn't tease you, only gave you a sympathetic look.

Irene and Ellen weren't in hurry like the other maids. They matched their steps with yours, letting you look around as long as you wanted, often stopping you to show you something they found.

"Y/N, look here," Ellen called you and pushed away the twigs of the bush. There was a bunch of delicate flowers blooming on long leafless stems in shades of pink and white. They were so lovely, sparkling as if dusted with glitter powder. Irene came closer, too.

"I didn't know that we have some nerines here, too. They are blooming mainly in southern garden."

"I discovered them by chance last week. I was looking for my favourite hair clip that I dropped somewhere around here. I haven't found it though," Ellen pouted sadly.

"Nerines?" you asked, studying the flowers and committing them to your memory.

"Yes. Do you have them in your Court, too?" Ellen was curious.

"I'm not sure," you flushed. "I wasn't allowed to go out."

"Oh," they both said in unison and looked at each other with raised brows. You tried to ignore their reaction. It was already quite embarrassing to admit your lack of knowledge about.. well, everything. They nodded as if they had just agreed on something even though they didn't say a single word. With kind smiles they turned back to you.

"They are also known as cliff lilies," Irene said and caressed one petal with a finger. "Every flower has some meaning. These, for example, symbolise connection, joy, freedom and security."

"And the affection," Ellen added with laugh. "The flowers are beautiful, but otherwise useless. It's pity."

"Useless? Why?"

"You know. Some plants or their parts can be used in medicine or cooking. However, this one is good only for decoration."

"I see," you bit your lower lip.

Useless.

Good only as a decoration.

You were called useless your entire life. And the worst was that it was true. You knew nothing about the world, you were lucky to at least be able to read. You were taught how to behave, how to serve to male, not how to live or actually do something useful. Your father raised you to be a decoration of a husband, a porcelain doll with nice face to be showed off and then destroyed behind the closed door. In a way you were alike. Only difference was that you could never be as beautiful and magical as this flower.

You smiled to yourself and stood up, leaving the beautiful nerines behind. Maybe your reasons weren't right, but it became your favourite flower. A tiny florets with layers of delicate, ruffled petals and radiant colours immediately caught your eye.

"What are these called?" you pointed at them.

"Those are marigolds," Irene answered in an enthusiastic voice. "My favourite."

"They are your favourite only because they remind you of a male you like. Even his hair colour is similar to these," Ellen teased her laughing and Irene stuck her tongue out at her, but she laughed, too. You watched them amused.

"Well, what if even so? I like them mainly because they represent power, strength and light inside of a person," Irene countered.

Ellen giggled. "Are you describing him or the flower? And don't forget about feeling of despaired love," she sang. "He is too important to notice you."

"Hush," Irene blushed. "I know he will never think of me in a romantic way, but girl can dream."

That day you learned a lot of new things and had so much fun. Your maids who you already liked dearly, taught you names, meanings and uses of flowers that bloomed in the garden and in the end you spent entire morning outside. When you returned for lunch, you were tired, but in a good way and not because you had to run.

The following morning you woke up with a bright smile and it grew even bigger when you found a pink nerine on a pillow next to you.

Joy and security.

That's what you had been experiencing since coming here. And you felt that all only thanks to your husband, Eris. You couldn't be more grateful. You'd never thought that marriage could give you this much of a freedom and allow you to experience new and especially nice things. You used to think that it would be just another horrible prison for you, one you would have to suffer in for the rest of your life. Just like your mother.

Your heart flipped as you remembered that this fairy-like flower symbolised also affection. You wondered whether Eris had left it here for you because of what it symbolised or just because he heard that you liked the flower. Whatever was the reason behind this surprising present, now you wanted to get to know him and spend time with him even more.

You carefully picked up the flower and nuzzled it to you chest right over the heart, tears stinging your eyes. This gesture however insignificant for others, meant a world to you. Now you missed only one thing - the person who gave it to you - and you would be completely happy.

Maids beamed when they found you playing with the flower later that morning and immediately knew exactly where it came from. Ellen gently picked on you with kind smile while Irene disappeared for a moment and returned with a small crystal vase for your treasure. You placed it on a coffee table between ottomans where you could keep an eye on it.

The delicate petals sparkled in the golden rays of sun as if they were enchanted by magic. It was such an spectacle that the three of you just sat there in complete silence watching it for a good hour.

After another interesting and very instructive walk, you were excited when servants appeared with the lunch on silver trays. You were so hungry that you ate more than ever before.

After the meal was over, Ellen had to leave to take care of something, so you were left alone with Irene. She was trying to teach you how to embroider some simple pattern when a knock sounded on the doors. Irene peeked out and blushing, backed back to the room. On the threshold stood Killian with wide grin and a package tucked under his arm.

Small flames danced in his amber eyes as he watched Irene to shyly smile at him, holding the doors opened.

"Hey, dove," he cooed as he walked past her and winked at her flirtatiously.

Irene flushed even more fiercely. It looked like she was about to pass out any moment now.

"Hey, sweet sister. How do you do these days? I hope you didn't miss me too much," he greeted you merrily and bent down to hug you and peck your cheek. You almost fell off your feet in surprise.

"I'm fine," you stuttered. "Thank you for asking. And you?"

"Your husband keeps me busy, you know, but it could be worse," he laughed and gestured to you to sit down. Then he took a seat next to you, his knee touching yours. You slightly jumped up, shocked. Unaccustomed to such closeness, you sat a little further, making a gap between you. He smiled at you apologetically, but didn't say anything.

"So," he dragged out the word, "what are your little strolls like? Do you enjoy it?"

"I have to admit I like it very much. The garden is full of interesting flowers," your gaze flew to Irene who couldn't take her eyes off of Killian with dreamy expression plastered to her face. You couldn't suppress it and had to chuckle. Now it was clear who she was in love with.

Killian's eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Good to know you are enjoying it. I'm sure all the flowers are green with envy when they see such beauties like you two," he winked at Irene and she giggled like a little girl.

You couldn't help the laughter that bubbled to the surface and tried to stifle it with a hand. Your brother-in-law raised brows at you, but then he joined you. Hearing that rich, contagious sound, you started to laugh even more. His expression softened.

"I'm very pleased to see that your new company has a good influence on you and you are finally opening up," he leaned closer to whisper to you, his hand brushed over yours. "Your smile is the best reward for all my hard work."

"I guess that now, when you have seen at least a bit of your new home, you are fascinated with its beauty," he joked, but he couldn't be more accurate.

There was something about Killian and his easygoing, good nature that made you feel at ease and so you dared to tease him back a bit.

"You are right. I'm absolutely captivated."

He gaped at you, mouth slightly opened. It took him a few seconds to collect himself and then his trademark smile was back. "Well.. Was that a joke just now? Dove, did you hear it too? She joked with me! Mother's tits, I can't believe my ears! Eris won't believe me either when I tell him you joked with me." His eyes filled with pride.

You blushed but smiled nonetheless.

"Now that you are finally peeking out of that damn shell, I'd even more love to stay longer and chat with you, but unfortunately, I can't. Eris will kill me for real if I'm again late for meeting. I was supposed to only drop by to deliver you this and return. It's from him," he winked, handed you a parcel that he brought and he was already at doors.

Before he left, Killian quickly whispered something to Irene. She giggled and nodded. At threshold he turned for a second to wave you with a beaming smile and he was gone.

Even though the parcel was small it was quite heavy. Your fingers trembled as you untied the bow and carefully opened the paper. You'd never received a present.

Inside was a new looking book bound in leather. You took it out and read the title. Almanac of Plants of Autumn Court. You flipped through it frantically, noticing all the beautiful, detailed drawings on every page.

You gasped in surprise, your eyes lined with silver. With trembling hands you took the book and pressed it to your chest, allowing the tears to roll down your cheeks. How did he know that you would like to learn more about the flowers in the garden? How could he know you so well? Your heart squeezed painfully, its sound louder than any other one and even than your own thoughts. If you knew where to look for him, you would immediately run there to thank him.

At that moment you decided that you would stay up no matter what and wait for him to come to check on you that night. You wanted to see him more than anything else.

#ghost of love #gol #eris fanfic #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #high lord of autumn #autumn court #high lord eris #eris fluff #eris angst #acotar #eris acosf #acosf

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ratridingaskateboard · 1 year ago

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Always See Your Face

Chapter Two

Link to Chapter One here

Summary: Eddie is beginning to find solace in an unfamiliar face.

Warnings: Sexual innuendos, mentions of drugs, Y/N is described!

Tag list: @daisyridleyyyy @silky-luxe @bl00d-puppy @ttsbaby01 @kennedy-brooke @sadbitchfangirl @abzzz3 @josephquinnschesthair @aislinnclifton

A/N: OMG I was not expecting the amount of feedback I got from Chapter 1 thank you so so much!! Like in Chapter 1, different character perspectives will be marked with: --. I know y'all will like this chapter since Eddie's pov is in it :)

The days have seemed to be dragging out longer these past weeks for Eddie. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t jerk off, couldn’t play his guitar. Even the campaign had several hiccups because he couldn’t focus. He would think about possible reasons for this feeling: repeating senior year, not having a girlfriend, and not being able to secure a job. Out of all the reasons he had conjured in his head he seemed to find that the best definition for this feeling was loneliness. His parents were not in the picture and his uncle Wayne wasn’t exactly the best company. Don’t get him wrong he was a great guy and a better man than Eddie’s father ever was but Eddie wouldn’t consider him close to Wayne by any means.

‘86 was supposed to be Eddie’s year and he had begun to lose hope.

Today was no different than any other day. Eddie had found himself stuck in trying to figure out tricks for his Hellfire campaign that would be able to mess up friends. His mind still couldn’t focus and he noticed himself repeating familiar tactics that he had done in the past. He rubbed his palms against his face, trying to drown out the laughter and conversation of his friends around him.

“You okay, Eddie?” Dustin asked.

Suddenly, there was silence. Eddie placed his hands down and looked over at Dustin until a voice rang out.

“Hey, I know you showed me around and I might be asking for too much but is it alright if I sit with you?”

It was such a sweet voice. Not an inkling of insincerity, pity, or ill intent. It seemed so warm. He had been wanting to hear a voice like that for a long time.

He looked up to see her. Was he in a dream? Had he been looking at that picture of Demi Moore in the swimsuit he had cut out and pasted in his makeshift porn mag for too long? She looked so similar to her yet she adorned the clothes Eddie would wear except for the skirt, of course. Her hair was a dark brown, long and straight which went down to her mid-back. Her bangs were whispy and thinner than many of the other girls who had teased theirs beyond recognition. Her big brown eyes stared so kindly at Dustin as if she was seeing an old friend again.

Eddie went stiff. His friends around him looked to her then back at Eddie then back at her. They were amazed to see their lord and savior Eddie Munson be so frigid around a girl. Normally, he was as boisterous as usual with a touch of chivalry for the ladies. But he was never noticeably nervous like he was now.

Eddie wondered to himself; Was some divine being sending him this girl so he could get through his last senior year? Was she an angel? He needed to take advantage of her sitting at their table before she left. This could be his only chance to speak to his dream girl.

She had looked over at Eddie and he gulped. Her lips were so plump and red they were practically begging him to kiss her. Stop it, Eddie! Fuck, He needed to get laid. She seemed to be analyzing his face and he let her. He would let her do anything as long as he got to keep staring at those eyes. Her eyes quickly shifted over to Mike once he entered the table. He felt his body relax once her gaze had changed.

"Jesus, that line was long!"

Mike's exclamation had broken the silence and Hellfire erupted into an uproar of questions.

"What's your name?"

"So where are you from originally?"

"How are you liking it here?"

"Are you single?"

Eddie was silent, watching her like a hawk to see what information his friends could attain from her. But she didn't answer any of the questions, she just started to laugh.

"I'm sorry! I laugh when I'm overwhelmed." She smiled. "All of you are so sweet for wondering about me."

Well, Eddie wasn't expecting that response but he had a feeling she would continue to surprise him. Dustin's once bewildered face began to soften as everyone spoke. He still seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet but at ease nonetheless. Eddie could tell he was plotting something since Dustin was not one to stay silent at the lunch table.

"Oh!" Gareth seemed to remember something as he reached into his bag. He pulled out a Geometry textbook and began to flip through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

"Do any of you guys- Oh, sorry, I mean guys and lady- understand how to do this? I can't figure any of this out and if I fail another test, I'll fail the class."

"Hey man, I don't know anything about Geometry. I barely passed Geometry when I took it."

"Yeah dude, no one at this table would be the right person to ask."

"Can I see?"

Gareth stared wide-eyed at Y/N as she began to walk over to him, leaning over his shoulder to look at the question. Eddie had sat right beside Gareth and he couldn't be happier with their current seating arrangements.

She was so close to Gareth and he could tell that Gareth had stopped breathing the second he felt her warmth. They could both smell her; She smelled like clove cigarettes and vanilla. Suddenly, Eddie started to care about Geometry.

"Alright, lemme see here..." She leaned further into Gareth, her breasts accidentally touching his shoulder. Gareth's face began to turn bright red. Eddie swiftly moved the book over to his side of the table.

"Oh Gareth, this is super easy!" Eddie exclaimed. "All you have to do is- uh... umm..." Eddie flipped through the pages trying to understand the math his mind was beginning to read as a foreign language. His friends began to laugh at his confusion.

She put her hand on Eddie's shoulder and he felt a bolt of lightning crawl down his spine.

"Hey, you guys didn't know how to do it either." She scolded. Eddie's hands still rested on the book and she put one of her hands over his left hand. Her other hand she used to flip through the pages.

Eddie had to stop every muscle in his body from kissing her at that moment. He barely knew this girl, yet, he felt as if she was doing these things to get a rise out of him. Whether innocent or guilty of this, it was working. He imagined turning her face with his hand on her chin to face him. Tucking the piece of hair out of her face and feeling the softness of her lips. What did she taste like? Vanilla like her perfume? Clove like her cigarettes? Whatever it was he wanted to taste her, every inch of her.

He silently adjusted himself in his pants, trying to make sure no one had noticed. Thankfully, no one had. Eddie's presence had been upstaged by the girl, bending over the table to look at Gareth's Geometry book.

"Fuck baby, why don't you tutor me after school?"

A football player's voice rang out as he passed behind her. Before Eddie had the chance to get up and teach this douchebag a lesson, he heard a loud thud behind him. He turned to see her standing above said football player, Eddie couldn't give two shits about remembering the guy's name, her knuckles bruised and a red imprint forming on his face.

"What the fuck, bitch!"

She surprised him again.

A/N: sorry this was kinda short but I felt like this was a good place to end. Please lemme know if you have any suggestions and I will keep you guys updated on new chapters :)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things

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beausmom1214 · 22 days ago

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Today (December 14th, 2024) was your birthday, you would have been 5 yrs old today. It has been half a decade since God welcomed you into Heaven and made a special place there just for YOU, my sweet baby boy….and someday I hope you will be showing it all to me with nothing but excitement and joy, as I join you and all our loved ones in that special place. When the time is right I can’t wait to get there, wherever it is, simply bc it means I will finally get to meet you, little one. You are my first born son, the only child of mine that I’ve ever held in my arms and the only soul I’ve ever met that I’ve ever loved so much, even before I got to hold you. And saying goodbye (for now) was the single most difficult life experience I’ve ever, ever had. It was so devastating to lose you, to finally get to see you but knowing your gorgeous little eyes would never get to open and see me. It’s been 5 yrs and I still think about you every single day, son….i wonder about the little man you would be growing up to be, & dream of what your future on earth could have held in store for you. I know in my heart you would be making me so very proud, and would have lived your life to the fullest, & loved with all you had in your great big heart…and the world would have loved you so much. I know because I love you so much, more love than I’ve ever felt for anyone before, and my love for you is so strong and runs so deeply through me that I know I will love you with my whole heart for the rest of my entire life (and even after that, always and forever). I know that God made a special spot for you, and I am so proud to know without a doubt that my son is sitting right there beside Him and helping Him in any way he can. I know your heart, because I made it, & helped it grow, beat by beat, right here next to mine. I know how much love you have to offer the world, and I know you are using that love and intense passion to help others, even from the other side. I know you are making me so proud and helping others find happiness as much as you can bc it is what you would have loved to do. You have a heart of gold and are so blessed to be in the presence of God and all of his Grace, fulfilling your noble purpose right there amongst all of the angels. I miss you so much, every single day. Losing you left such a huge wake of emptiness and sorrow in my life. Everything would be so different if you were still here, my sweet boy. I hope you had the best 5th birthday today in Heaven that any little boy has ever known. I hope you are happy, and I hope you are looking forward to the day when we will finally be reunited as much as I am looking forward to it. I am so proud to be your Mom, and I love you with all my heart. Happy Birthday, Beau Maverick, my sweet little angel in Heaven. Take good care of Brown Doggie and Miss Gaia, and Rosie the snake. Love them with all your heart, and care for them as best you would care for any of God’s creatures, and they will love you immensely right back, and someday we can all be together again. I’ll be here waiting for that day.

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marivoid · 8 months ago

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Entry 25

Day 200

I think I nearly avoided death by not sticking around this guy.

While I was busy clearing out a gas station today, this guy popped out of nowhere! I swear on it! That gas station was as dead as dust and then he just shows up out of the blue! (Or brown? The sky doesn't exactly look blue really.)

He seemed decently friendly while I spoke to him. Rambling on about how he's completing these "Zedvancements" (I still haven't figured out what qualifies for one of those things) and that he needed help on this next one.

Then came the change in attitude.

"You know you could be a really useful person! It's just a second." It started off casual.

"No thank you."

"Come on man! I haven't seen anyone in what? Five, six days? My Zedvancements are boring without anyone to complete them with!" He got a bit louder around here.

"I am sorry but I really can't! I have to go speak to a man about a horse, you know? Can't dilly dally!"

That eye of his... He didn't seem all too happy when I told him no at that time.

(As I'm writing this down, I feel so stupid! He probably just wanted my head on a spike or something!)

"Who are you trying to meet with?" He had started to walk a circle around me then. Like I was prey (AND I SOMEHOW DIDN'T REALIZE. WAY TO GO PAST ME WHAT THE FUCK! WELCOME EVERYONE TO THE NUMBER ONE DUMBASS OF THE YEAR) "There can't be anyone that important that you can't stay a day or two!"

"Well, actually there is. I'm trying to find the Doctor!" And I had turned. Away. Just turned away and walked to the door like there wasn't a single damn in the world. "My arm here needs work to be done. Keeps glitching out!"

I distinctly remember just how shocked he was when I looked back at him. How that golden-yellow eye was fixed on me. How his weird pupil dilated several times over in just the span of seconds. He was getting angry and I hadn't known it at the time.

"You can't be serious! THE Doctor?? The madman?! Are you insane?"

"I am!" I had to of been stupid to keep talking to him, let alone to just crack open one of the last pop bottles that lingered on the shelves (I'm still fine as of writing this. I'm not hurting or sick because of that drink.) "He's the only one who can fix my arm. It's Watcher Tec and Admins were never trained on how to fix that kind of stuff."

"YOU'RE FROM A G.U.I.D.E?!" I swear to you his scream could have scared off a Night Stalker. "That's genuine Watcher Tec?? You have Old Metal??"

"I wouldn't call it that." I had let him see the complex steam system wiring up my arm to my stub. "It's titanium, not the stuff that the G.U.I.D.E.s were made from. And even then, good luck trying to pry that stuff off the walls. Once it's molded, it's stuck for good!"

I hadn't realized he had been staring at me like I was a fool. No, I was too busy chugging my soda. (Still really good by the way!)

"I know a couple of people that could melt it down." He had said oh so casually. (No I did not do a spit take here, shush.) "One's a few days South from here. The other, West. Find one of those guys and they'll help melt down some G.U.I.D.E. metal."

"I'll see what I can do for you. No promises though. Do you have a number or however these things work?"

Annnnd that's how I suddenly have three new contacts in my wrist thingy. (From here on out I'll just call it a Comm, since it's a Communication Device of a sorts, but not exactly like how those old phones worked back in the day.)

Person one (South) is called "The Demon" in my phone. I don't think that's a very trustworthy name, but it could be worse. The second one, however, is called "Heavy-Body Builder." What's a Heavy-Body Builder? Is it important? Dangerous?

And the third...

"Zedaph"

I'll have to make sure to contact that number as little as possible. Leave it alone unless absolutely necessary. That guy was NOT safe. But at least he showed me how to take photos on this thing. Got a reference for the journal though, so it was kind of worth almost dying.

Just got to find The Doctor.

-MLW

-G.U.I.D.E 67

#hermitblr #hermitcraft #hermitaday #zedaph #void art #original art #mcyt fanart #The Crash #martyn itlw #martyn inthelittlewood

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artificial-transmutations · 1 year ago

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Transformation Letter: Noah

Hello. My name is Noah and I would love transforming into anything or anyone. I'm an single 20 years old bisexual, who is annoyed by long work days as a german nurse. I would most likely describe me as the boring white boy with brown hair, brown eyes and nothing special. Would love to get out of germany.

It is way after ten in the evening after a long day of work. You are sitting in Ilkan's flat and enjoy a beer with your Turkish friend when he suddenly announces that he will have to return to Turkey soon because of family matters and there's a good chance he won't be able to get back for at least a few years.

For the last years, Ilkan has been a close friend to you, and a welcome opportunity to complain about work - the news is devastating. You even have a bit of a crush on the burly Turk, but since he is straight you kept that a secret. Of course, you can hardly say anything against him leaving, so, you just say "Tja."

You continue to sit there, sipping beer when suddenly, Ilkan appears to remember something.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I got this really strange letter today, do you know what's up with that?"

He fetches a letter from a company named "Artificial Transmutations" and shows it to you. It's just a QR code and a single line of text below it: "If you want to accept Noah's request, please install the app above."

Of course, you recognize the company - there had been an online ad and you decided to write a letter to them. Apparently, there was some kind of a raffle for a cruise or something, you didn't have a closer look at the ad back then.

"I think it's some kind of competition or draw or something where you can win a trip." You reply.

Ilkan nods and just as you are about to go on about data privacy, he has already scanned the code and started the download. Ilkan is refreshingly carefree with all of that.

The app installs quickly, and you are both looking at Ilkan's phone. Besides the logo, there is just a single green button labelled "Claim".

"So, does this mean you have won?" Ilkan asks.

"I don't know. Go on and press the button!" You answer, wondering why Ilkan has gotten the reply letter and not you. You are pretty sure you didn't mention your friend in your letter.

As soon as Ilkan taps the button, you feel very strange all of a sudden. Your dick grows stiff and strains against your jeans, flooding your system with arousal. You absolutely cannot think straight as you look at Ilkan, who is sitting next to you on the couch, legs spread slightly as usual.

Without further comment, you reach over and undo Ilkan's fly and greedily pull down his boxer shorts to expose his ample, but soft cock.

Ilkan is way too surprised of your sudden action to react and just starts to say: "Noah, what ahhhh..."

You interrupt him by closing your mouth around his soft cock, breathing in the sweaty groin and tasting the flavor of his unwashed dick, with all the traces of piss, sweat and dirt that have gathered during the day.

Almost immediately, you feel his hand at the back of your head, but to your big surprise, Ilkan doesn't pull you from his groin. Instead, he pushes you further in, with quite some force actually. Your nose is being pressed into his untrimmed bush of pubic hair, intensifying the manly smell even more as his hairs tickle your face. You cannot see anything since your face is in Ilkan’s groin, but you feel two things: First, Ilkan's cock is slowly raising and second, Ilkan stands up while still having his hand on the back of your head and positions himself right in front of you.

Your arms explore his big hairy legs that are spread widely in front of you, and you pull down his jeans and boxers for good. There is a slight movement as Ilkan steps out of them, all the while your tongue is busy teasing his cock.

Ilkan increases the pressure once more, and for a moment, your nose almost hurts since it is pressed into his groin with so much force. That passes quickly however, and you feel your face jumping forward a few centimeters more. It is like your nose has been flattened against his groin, but you didn't feel pain or hear a noise that would indicate it being broken.

Your mouth is full with Ilkan's increasingly erect cock now and he is bucking his hips lightly into your mouth. You hug his hips with your arm in order to press yourself even further to Ilkan, who now uses the hand on your head to face-fuck you, slamming your face into his sweaty privates with more and more force.

You don't even use your tongue even more - Your mouth is more like a pouch now, a place for his dick to be in, as your head becomes thinner and thinner - and more fabric like with every thrust. Your hands have fused behind his back and turned to an elastic rubber band, fixing yourself to his waist.

Suddenly, Ilkan closes his hand and warps your face - or what's left of it, around his erection. He grips his cock through your fabric face and begins to jerk himself off, warping your pouch that seems to be almost all that is left of you in the shape of his ample erection.

Finally, he cums a thick load of cum into you, which you absorb quietly as the jockstrap that you are now.

"Phew. I didn't know that was what you wanted Noah...". He pauses for a moment before continuing. "Although I suppose I shouldn't call you that any longer. You're just a jockstrap after all, and I'm gonna treat you like the thing you are, my possession."

You feel a warm feeling of agreement as your owner acknowledges your inferiority. Soon you're going to leave Germany wrapped around your best friends junk. You don't have to worry about your job anymore and you couldn't be happier.

Don't forget: If you, too want to send a transformation letter and want to be transformed, consider joining my riot page today!

#TransformationLetter #inanimate transformation

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sunnynwanda · 9 months ago

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Something Blue

Warnings: I assume none, but if you notice something, let me know! Light angst romance, basically. Heavily based on/ inspired by VOILÀ - Something blue.

The wind is harsh against Villain’s face, prickling his skin with each cold blow. The crisp air bites into his lungs, filling them alongside the deep-settled tightness. When Villain reaches the central square, the sun is high in the sky, but the air lacks the warmth expected from a spring day. She hates it when the noons are this chilly.

The square is already full to the brim, a good half of the city there to witness Hero’s wedding. She’s always been a crowd favourite, and the groom being the mayor’s son only brought more publicity to the event. And Villain… Villain would never be good enough. He hisses at the annoying voice in the back of his head to quiet. The same voice that prompted him to leave before she could, to let her go before he got hurt. He takes in the grandeur of the cathedral, its enormous oak doors decorated with flower arrangements. It looks magnificent. She hates big weddings and magnolias.

It doesn’t take much time to round the square and sneak into the cathedral through a back door. The reality of it all seems to hit Villain much harder once he steps inside. Coming here today was a bad idea. Villain’s fingers curl into fists, his breathing coming out in frantic huffs as he climbs the stairs. A part of him considers turning around right this instant, but he doesn’t allow himself to. Not today. He won’t be a coward again.

He walks past several ajar doors before coming to a halt in front of the only closed one. With a deep breath, Villain pushes it open. Hero is standing in front of a full-length mirror, and she looks stunning. His breath hitches in his throat, every single thought leaving his mind the second his eyes lock onto her form. She doesn’t seem to notice him yet, so he shuts the door behind his back, careful not to make any noise as he steps closer. She keeps fidgeting with the hair framing her face in soft brown waves. She hates having her hair up.

Villain stops behind her, his mind racing. He rakes a hand through his hair, brushing the dark strands back from his forehead, and before his brain can comprehend what he’s doing, his arm wraps around her middle, pulling her back against his chest.

“You look beautiful,” his voice murmurs against her ear. Hero shudders, her eyes flying up to meet his gaze through the mirror. Her lips press into a thin line. Don’t do this to me. Villain’s arm tightens around her. “Absolutely ravishing.”

“Don’t lie,” Hero leans back into him, allowing her head to rest against his shoulder. “White was never my colour. Good thing I don’t own this dress.” She shrugs, her tone a tad too impassive for his liking.

Villain lets out a light chuckle, yet his sharp eyes remain pained. He wouldn’t give a damn what she wore if only it was him with her. “It’s something borrowed then?”

“What?” Hero tilts her head to look at him, still wrapped in his arms. Her eyebrow raises quizzically, when he doesn’t loosen his hold. She hates the way his body fits against hers so well.

“You know how that thing goes? Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” Villain lists, not registering when his thumb starts rubbing soothing circles into her forearm.

She laughs, but it doesn’t reach her hazy brown eyes. Villain’s chest tightens as he watches her expression. He loved how her eyes would shine, and her nose would scrunch when she laughed with her full heart. How she laughed with him.

“I'm the old, and he's the new,” he explains, pausing to swallow the lump of emotions in his throat. “And since he gave you the borrowed dress, I figured it should be me that gives you something blue.”

Hero’s heart slams against her ribcage with a savage force. She wants to push him away, to yell at him, to demand for him to leave and never show his face again after how he abandoned her for idiotic reasons. Instead, her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek. “Oh?”

“Remember the time when I bought you a locket in the flea market?” Villain recalls, watching her breathing pattern go from frenzied to still. Hero goes rigid in his arms, her irises blown wide, not daring to take a breath in for fear of losing it entirely. “Where did it go?”

“I- I must have lost it,” her voice is small, words tumbling off her lips almost unconsciously.

“Feels symbolic, don’t you think?” Villain’s hands leave her body as he pulls the locket with a blue stone embedded in its ornaments out of his pocket. He moves her hair to the side and fastens the clasp, his fingers brushing against the side of her neck in a tender touch. He gulps, his darkened eyes locking onto the reflection of her watering ones. “Like losing your love and having to watch it.”

He can’t stop himself as his head dips into the crook of her neck, eyebrows furrowing when his lips leave a lingering kiss against her bare shoulder, sending a chill of goosebumps along her spine.

Hero lets out a shaky exhale, averting her eyes from the mirror. She hates that he is here. She hates that he’s wearing a black suit with a white shirt. She hates that he looks dashing, too. She hates how perfect they look together. She hates how he could… “It’s cold for a wedding, isn’t it?”

Villain withdraws despite his reluctance, his fingers twitching to take hold of her again until he wraps his arm around her waist. “Are your feet getting cold?” He attempts to sound lighthearted, but the quiver of his voice gives it all away.

Hero shakes her head, her dejected expression wrenching Villain’s heart in a way he didn’t think possible before. “They were never warm in the first place.”

He doesn’t know how to take that. He doesn’t know how to take any of this anymore. It feels like the sky is shattering over his head, burying him alive.

“There's something I must confess,” Hero whispers as if saying it louder would mar the sanctity of the cathedral walls. She disentangles from Villain’s arms, stepping towards the door as Canon in D begins playing. “I wish it was you instead.”

She offers him one last glance before stepping out the door, a trembling hand clasped over her mouth to keep the sobs raking through her body from escaping.

Her words echo in Villain’s mind like a tocsin as he rushes through the doors, only to catch a glimpse of her as she begins walking down the aisle. He walks in, remaining at the doors as she reaches the altar. He knows he should wait on the priest to give him the time to speak, but his stomach is in knots, adrenaline rushing through his blood like a fire ready to burn the damn church down.

Dearly beloved, we're gathered here today…

“To watch a big mistake,” Villain’s voice booms through the nave of the cathedral, reflecting off of the vault and spilling down onto the guests’ heads, which snap to stare at him as he steps forward.

“I'm not gonna hold my peace,” Villain meets Hero’s tormented gaze, her throat closing in as she sees his face contorted in a mixture of pain and desperation. “I’m not gonna…” He pauses, his breath hitching when the flames reach his chest, burning a hole through his lungs. “What I mean to say is, my feelings haven't changed.”

Hero’s blood runs cold. She’s frozen in place, watching him approach her with an unreadable expression while her groom growls something in her ear with a displeased expression. For better or for worse, Villain can’t hear what he’s saying to her.

He knows coming here today was a bad idea. Watching Hero today was supposed to desecrate whatever was left of his heart, to wreck the shrine of her in his chest, to utterly and wholly rip him apart.

But...

But then she takes his hand, meeting his pleading gaze as tears brim her eyes. Villain brings her hand up, pressing it to his lips before pulling her towards him as they sprint down the aisle. He leads her out through the same back door he came through and along narrow sidestreets away from the crowded square. By the time her groom stops throwing a fit, Hero is in Villain’s car as he drives them out of the city, his hand still clutching hers tightly. He brings it up to his lips again, turning to look at Hero, cast in the afternoon sun. She looks otherworldly with her hair down, playing in the wind.

“White is absolutely your colour,” he mutters softly, his eyes darting down to his shirt on her, her dress left somewhere along the road.

Hero snorts, shaking her head as she shifts closer, leaning her head on his shoulder, her hand in his tight hold. He still can’t wrap his head around the events of the day, but he can lace his fingers through hers. He can kiss the tip of her nose and make her scrunch it as she giggles. He can kiss her smiling lips over and over again. He can pull her into his chest and hold her close to his heart.

Villain will be damned if he lets go again.

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

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heyidkyay · 1 year ago

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Four

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: IT'S TAKEN A WHILE BUT IT'S HAPPENING, MATTY AND MOUSE ARE SO CLOSE. Hi:) Hope you enjoy this part, finally throwing them into the same building!! Lot's happening in this one!

Warnings: Mentions of rehab, struggles around body image

Masterlist

🐭 @/petitesouris 13m Early start, hoping it's a good session today!

The next week rolled around slowly and it had been one of the most agonising waits of my life.

I’d constantly been emailing with the Primary Talent Team for the last few days, back and forth, just trying to work out which date and time would best fit both our schedules. It’d been gruelling. And the entire exchange would have gone a whole lot easier if it hadn't been for the fact that it had all been centred around them and based on their terms and conditions. Not forgetting the mile long list of Do’s and Don'ts they had also attached to their most recent email, which had been oh so fucking thrilling.

To be honest, I might not have minded it if my whole life had only revolved around the radio show. But as proud of it as I was, and as incredibly hard as both Adi and I constantly worked, I had other priorities that took precedence. I loved the show with all my heart but it could never be my entire life. Not with Teddy waiting for me back home at the end of each day, relying on me alone to raise and feed and clothe him.

Not that Healy’s management could comprehend that, or the fact that I had a schedule and a set routine. They didn't know when to stop and pushed and pushed to get what they wanted. And I could only fight back so much. Which meant that I’d ended up dropping Teddy off at Finn’s place a whole two hours earlier than usual just so that Adi and I could prep for the dated interview.

So, with that in mind, it was safe to say that I wasn't in the perkiest of moods when Adi bounded breathlessly into the studio that morning, a lot later than expected.

"I know, I know, I'm late!" Adi immediately squawked as she hurried on over, the door behind her slamming shut in her wake. "But I have good reason! I hardly slept last night, too excited for all of this!" She added as she threw her knitted tote bag down in its customary corner, the one I’d brought her the birthday last, and tossed her phone and throng of keys down with a clatter onto her paper-filled desk.

I rolled my eyes, but was unable to negotiate with the amused smile that pulled at the corners of my mouth. “Still had time to post a quick photo though. Don't think I didn't see it, Adeline- you tagged the show."

Adi’s smile was blinding when she spun around to meet me, brown eyes wild and full of mirth.

“Figured since you still haven't a clue about how Instagram works that you just wouldn't see it, my love!" She retorted whilst throwing herself down into my desk chair and kicking her Doc clad feet up onto the table. She shot me a smug smirk.

“Cow. And oi, I’ll have you know I’ve caught on since Circa ‘18!” I defended, but relented upon seeing Adi’s arched brow. “Fine, I had Finn explain it all to me one night after a bottle of wine. But the point still stands.”

Adi’s raucous laughter bounced around the loft and I could only roll my eyes once more before huffing. 2018 had been a rough year for many, but mostly me, seeing as I’d accidentally posted a quick shot of me in the tub for the group chat to my story, exposing a little more than I’d like to our show’s following.

Adi stared back at me in disbelief, loosening the bun of unruly curls that had been strung together by a silk bandana, which also seemed to match the colour of the very short shorts she was wearing.

"He'd had to have been a saint in another life to have dealt with an indisposed you for that long."

I scoffed at that, but couldn't help my own trickle of laughter. “I sent Teddy round to his the next day with a box of chocolates- you know, those fancy ones he’s always banging on about?” Adi hummed her assent. “Felt proper bad about it all. Took him ages to teach me how to stop going Live.”

We both laughed.

“Waste of time that was, should’ve just brought the chocolates here! Knowing Finn, he only helped ‘cause he found the entire sodding thing hilarious.” Adi supplied, pulling a pack of chewing gum free from her jacket pocket.

Snorting faintly, I denied her offering of a piece with a wave of my hand, and went back to fidgeting with my phone, distracting myself again from my plume of thoughts. I spun the device round and round, slowly enough so that each edge made contact with the wooden desktop.

“You alright there, babe?” Adi queried after a while, and I glanced over to see her eyes now trailing the movement. “Ted doing alright?”

I stilled and then hummed, watching as she turned and went about fumbling her way through an array of wires that sat on my desk, most of which were already hooked up to the monitors. It was a task Adi did most mornings, even when I’d already ticked it off the list, ever the perfectionist, wanting to double check that nothing would go wrong with the day's show.

“Oh yeah, all’s fine. Teds is already obsessing over Halloween, ranting about what costume he wants to get this year. But August has only just passed, Ads.” I groaned, thinking back to the previous evening when Teddy had spent a good portion of his bath time rambling on about what every other kid in his class was going to be.

Adi peered back at me, the extremity of the grin she wore wrinkling the corners of her eyes. “Just kids, ain't it? We were the same, you'll miss it in a couple of years.”

I supposed she was right, but only because I didn’t have much of an experience to look back on. Halloween had just been me and mum in the woods up by the creek, collecting flowers and eucalyptus for the wreaths we’d make, then reading old stories by the fire.

“Don't remind me, please. I don't want him getting any bigger!” I sighed all too dramatically before standing to head on over towards the printer, picking up everything I’d sent off earlier from out the tray.

“It's the way of life, babe. So, when do you reckon Teds will end up towering over you?”

Adi simply chuckled when I stuck a finger up at her from over my shoulder, not even wanting to pay that idea any thought at all. Teddy was my baby, I couldn’t picture him all grown up.

“I should mention that I saw your tweet, by the way. Guessing you're nervous for today?” Adi added after, her tone a little softer than normal, catching me off guard enough that I actually stilled in place before I turned to face her.

“And you’re not?"

Adi’s mouth quirked upwards when she shook her head, dark ringlets moving with it.

“Why would I be? This is fucking huge for us, M! The exposure that we'll receive alone could really give us the big break we've been searching for- I honestly can't even begin to believe it.”

I gnawed on my bottom lip as I lingered over her words, then pushed back the thought of me having been the one to deal with the stress that was Healy’s management team to the back of my mind. Adi didn’t deserve that, I’d always been the one to deal with all the crap happening behind the scenes, and besides, Adi had a right to be excited. I only wished that I had the ability to join in on it.

“I just don't want to start up any more unnecessary drama, Ads.”

Drama was the very last thing I wanted, knowing that this whole thing with Healy could easily blow up in our faces if we didn’t go about it the right way. And if shit actually does end up hitting the metaphorical fan, then… I wasn't sure I'd be fit enough to handle it. Handle the backlash that would surely follow and affect the show, the only source of income I had. And without it, both Teddy and I would be royally fucked.

Apparently my lack of response had Adi rolling her eyes, adding an extra flare of dramatics to it by flicking my ear as she passed me by. “Don’t be such a worrier, babe. It’ll all work out, always does with us, don’t it? Besides, how can it not when I have a face as gorgeous as this?”

She winked, flashing me her famous grin.

“Tart.”

“Slag.” Adi easily countered.

A breathy chuckle escaped me and I shook my head before returning to the wad of papers I’d been rifling through. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’s the radio, babe. No one will be seeing that gorgeous face of yours, or the way your arse is currently hanging out of those shorts.”

Adi cut her eyes at me from across the room, but they gleamed under the studio’s lights. “Don’t be jealous. We both know you love it.”

“Jealous? I’m a mum!”

“A fit one.”

A laugh bubbled up out of my throat at that and I couldn't find the energy to deny it, so I just shook my head.

“Anyway, you’re wrong.” And at my confused look, Adi continued on, grinning wickedly as she waved around one of the large devices she’d since picked up and cradled in her hand. “We are working with the camera’s today. Sort of why I'm here setting them all up. See?”

“Wait, we’re filming?” I gawked, and my eyes felt like they were just about ready to bulge out of my head as I sat up further to shake my head at her. Mouth already dry. “Non. No, Adi. No one ever mentioned that! I can’t.”

“They called yesterday demanding it. Just as you left to pick up Teds- it must've slipped my mind. I'm so sorry, hun.” Adi revealed sheepishly, her face scrunched up in an apologetic wince as the camera rig dropped to her hip. “But don't worry, yeah? I promise it'll all be sound and then we'll be well on our way to becoming the UK's biggest radio show!”

I reverted back to worrying at my bottom lip, chewing on it as though I hadn't eaten for days whilst I tapped an anxious rhythm into the arm of my chair. I couldn’t do the cameras, not today at least.

“Trust me, Mouse. It’ll be alright. You’ve done it before and you can do it again. No one will say a thing.”

I wished I could fucking believe her.

***

The Sun @/Thesun 16m Matty Healy spotted out in London today! The singer has been relatively quiet for the past few days- somewhat strange for the wayward frontman- but will this all change now that he's been seen? (Link) H @/user1 18m um, what? he’s where?? Adi @/AdelineWells_ 19m Long day ahead but we're very excited for today's show! Big surprises in store for you lot, so who's looking forward to it?? @/petitesouris @/Mouseonamic Indie @/user2 21m @/AdelineWells_ AHHH hope it's another Adi's All-Knowing segment!! Urmymedicine @/user3 23m Did anyone else see Jamie’s ig post?? He says to keep an eye out- AN EYE OUT FOR WHAT?? Talk! @/user4 11m I feel like I've been hit by an unnecessary amount of information

***

Matty’s bleary stare made an attempt to focus on the blurring buildings that passed them by as the car cut through the paved streets of London. Grey just melting into another varied shade of grey.

It was still far too bright for the beginning of September, the remaining weeks of summer only just tittering away now, and Matty couldn't help the scowl that had long since settled into his hollow features.

One of the very few things he liked about the city was the fact that it was almost sure to be gloomy during the colder months. But it seemed as though the sun was shining a little brighter today, much to his chagrin.

A dull pain throbbed at either side of his temples, it’d been there since he’d been forced awake, and so he'd had to wind the window all the way down as soon as they'd set off to keep the nausea at bay. He silently regretted not turning in early last night, but it couldn't have been helped. It was hard to stay asleep without his usual nightcap, and even then, it was harder to dismiss the memories that plagued his mind without downing half a bottle of something or other.

A frigid wash of air wound its way down his throat as he took a long breath, his mind slowing a tad as the afternoon breeze trickled across his skin. But soon enough Matty’s calm was broken and his attention was then caught by Jamie, who sounded just as thwart as he felt.

“You even listening to me, mate?”

Jamie’s undeterred voice filtered through the back of the car, a short lived sigh following in its wake.

Matty merely rolled his eyes from behind his darkened sunglasses and proceeded to slump further in his seat, lolling his head to the side so that his focus was now within the car instead of on the distractions of the outside world.

His gaze trailed its way across the dark leather seats and blacked out windows before it finally ended up landing on his manager, who was kitted up in one of his many sharp shirts and a pair of formal fitting trousers. A right snazzy twat.

Matty could appreciate their pattern though, Jamie hardly ever ventured too far into the world of fashion, so the burgundy tartan was a sight to behold.

He soon fixed Jamie with an apathetic stare from across the backseat, fingers already itching for a fag, or maybe something stronger. He couldn’t be arsed with the mindless bother he’d been sent to complete today, really didn’t want to be dealing with a roomful of people that were there to assault him with an extensive range of hard-hitting questions, or have any more unwanted cameras shoved in his face in truth.

But here he was, doing it.

Following orders because that was what it took to be a puppet. He was too tired to be tugging on any strings today though, simply wanted to get the afternoon over and done with, hopefully without any repercussions, so that he could fall back into bed.

“Matty, mate.” Jamie huffed, his face having fallen into a pitiful expression that Matty didn’t quite like looking at, but couldn’t seem to look away from.

For a while, he'd been fearful that he'd pushed his luck all too far with Jamie, as well as the rest of the band too he supposed. But it seemed as though the guy had a thing for redemption, because he was trying his fucking hardest to annoy Matty into growing the fuck up.

“Look. I know you don't like this anymore than I do, but it's your job, mate. You ain’t got much of a choice here. But think of it this way, right. It's better you being here, doing this, than drowning away in your own fucking sorrows- thought you'd given up drinking since rehab, anyway.”

Matty’s jaw clenched involuntarily at the reminder. Rehab. What was it with everyone and always bringing it up? He’d been too fucking gone on painkillers to have given a second thought to the little amount of alcohol that particular shit show had provided. Could hardly call it a rehabilitation centre either, not when you were constantly surrounded by other abusers who were practically there on a getaway, just finding other means to entertain themselves with.

Jamie broke the silence just as Matty’s mind began to spiral, and Matty couldn’t help but be rather thankful for it.

“You just gonna sit there then?” Jamie snorted, obviously trying to fill the tense quiet now, “Normally you’d have told me to piss off by now.”

“Piss off.” Matty murmured, turning his focus back to the window.

The car seemed to be slowing down now and Matty furrowed his brow when they came to a gentle halt outside a block of buildings.

“Where are we?”

“Outskirts of Islington, I think. Not too far from the studio.”

Matty didn't get much of a chance to reply- not that he'd had one, Islington never did manage to bring up the most fondest of memories with him- because Jamie had all but jumped at the chance to exit the vehicle, opening up the sliding backdoor to escape into the stream of daylight.

With a tired sigh, Matty ran a hand through his mussed hair before he made a move to join his manager, clicking his neck slightly as the bottoms of his leather, heeled boots clacked against the cobbled pavement.

There was the usual musty scent that lingered throughout the city as he took a breath, but the smell of petrol was somewhat stronger here. Hardly anyone was wandering down the backstreet they had pulled into though, and those that did didn't linger too long on either him or the extravagant hired car that he'd been sanctioned with since having been struck with yet another driving ban.

Craning his head up, Matty could tell that there wasn't much to the building they were standing outside of. A commercial unit, three stories or so. Its brick exterior worn and dotted with timber sash windows. It was quaint enough, but not what he was used to when it came to things like this.

"Alright. A quick debrief before we go in." Jamie started, already fixing the faint creases in his otherwise pristine shirt, caused from where he’d been sat working in the backseat. “This is the same show that you had a bit of a spat with earlier this week, alright? So you'll be meeting the same girl that spoke out about your, um… Well, your image and publicity, and all that crap, generally speaking."

Jamie’s eyes flitted around them before he was back to typing away on his phone again. Fucking thing was practically attached to his hand, made Matty wonder how the hell he managed a wank.

But then he caught onto that last bit of his sentence and furrowed his brows, throwing Jamie another quick glance, not quite comprehending.

“Why we even here then? Thought your lot had a right mare dealing with all that.”

Jamie had the decency to look a tad bit sheepish as he started to lead them over towards one of the heavy-duty doors that adorned each of the surrounding units.

“They think that by doing this, it will clear up any allegations. They just want you to right your wrongs, I ‘spose. Make it known that what went down was just a 'misunderstanding' of sorts.”

“Right my? For fucks sake, Jamie! I was shitfaced! And if I remember fucking rightly, this supposed presenter spoke some actual truth. How the fuck am I meant to deny that and clear this whole fucking mess up?"

Matty was quite close to fuming now. It was always the same thing, again and again. The lies were never ending. So much so that he could hardly even recognise them from the truth anymore, everything had seemed to mould into one.

Jamie had since paused, his hand resting on the door's brass handle whilst he gave Matty the best smile he could possibly muster up. "Matty, mate, I'm sorry. Listen, I thought I could-"

Matty cut him off with a throaty scoff.

"Don't make out you're sorry. Not when you're just here ‘to do your job’. The only thing you're sorry for is the fact that you've got to be here at all, to suffer through all this shit with me and put up with the added drama. Just do me a fucking favour and keep your half-arsed apologies to yourself, mate."

Jamie looked genuinely taken back by his vicious rant for once, and somewhat hurt too, but Matty paid it no mind. He knew where to hit where it hurt, and he often didn’t stop until he tasted blood. The band knew that better than most.

"You act like you're here for me, when all you really care about is goin’ by the book and following the rules. Fucking grow a pair and apologise to me when there's an actual ounce of sympathy behind it." He spat back, teeth grinding as he clenched his jaw, glowering at the man standing before him.

Matty shoved past his startled manager before he could linger on his words and pushed his way through the door. Fisted hands already making their way into his pockets as his nails dug crescent shaped moons into his palms in a desperate attempt to take the edge off of his vibrating anger.

"Ah, good, you're already here then! Thought we'd heard voices!" A cheerful lilt called out just as Matty rounded the short hallway, Jamie hot on his tail, and came face to face with a girl, who was leaning heavily against the metal rail lining the steep stairwell.

Matty winced at the brashness of her greeting, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses at the very force of her presence. She had a mane of thick curls bundled atop her head, lips lined red and lashes winged with a heavy liner. She was definitely younger than him, but not by much, and he could only guess as he approached her, that she stood at a similar height to him too when she wasn't prancing about on metal staircases.

His fingertips trailed across the paperboard carton he had stowed away in his jacket pocket as Jamie hurried on over to meet the woman- a beaming smile now replacing his previously dejected look. Matty bit into his cheek at the sight of it.

"Yeah, sorry if we're late! Hey, it's great to meet you, I'm Jamie and this is obviously Matty." Jamie greeted with an incessant smile Matty couldn't bring himself to look at, before his manager was gesturing towards him- the disgruntled singer he was always stuck babysitting- and then reaching out a hand.

"Adeline, but my mates call me Adi." The girl, Adi, chirped as she took Jamie’s palm in her own, her eyes flitting towards Matty long enough to get a good once over. A gesture Matty returned. "It's great to have you both here."

She wore a grin so large it practically surpassed the honey brown eyes that brightened her face. Her teeth were white, if not a little crooked, and the force of her smile showed off the metal piercing that sat against her front teeth.

"We're honestly really excited to have you on the show! We'll have a proper laugh and just chill, so there's no pressure or anything. Mouse is upstairs, by the way. Still have to set up the final bits and bobs." Adi added, her enthusiasm somehow never faltering. "You'll love her! She's the main man round here, the one who started up the show and all that. You'll be speaking to her once we begin, but depending on how everything goes I'm hoping to join the two of you at some point."

Matty merely hummed in reply, which earned him a slight jab to the ribs from Jamie, one he tried not to lash out at. And Adi’s eyes slitted a tad as she followed the gesture, though Matty noted she gathered herself rather quickly.

"So, is that all of you then? No one else to meet?" Jamie wondered politely and Adi chuckled in retort as she began to lead them up the shifting staircase, giving them both an eyeful of her long legs.

"Nah, you're in the clear. It's just the two of us running things around here."

Matty worked his jaw at her response, whilst the sound of his boots hitting each metal stair reverberated around them.

"And that works?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.

Adi's head snapped back to find him, eyes peering over her shoulder as she rounded the first small landing and started on the next set of stairs.

"Mouse was on her own for a long while before I came along. We cope fine on our own though. We might not be as big as some other radio shows at the moment, but we've got a good relationship that works well within this industry. She can be stubborn, whilst I can be pushy, and even when we butt heads over things, we're able to make up in the end for the sake of the show. I don't know how it would work, throwing someone else into the mix."

Matty gave her a curt nod.

"So, Mouse?" Jamie questioned just as they bypassed the second floor, continuing up the staircase. Matty could hear the curiosity that lined his voice.

Adi flashed them another grin. "Mouse. It's what she goes by."

"Oh?" Jamie prodded, prompting her even further. He had a right thing for nicknames, loved hearing the stories behind them or something.

"Don't know how it came about, in all honesty. You'll have to ask. But it's been her pseudonym ever since she started as a kid."

Matty’s ears perked up upon hearing that, but it was Jamie who quizzed her.

"She's been doing this since she was a kid?"

"Technically. But no, it started out as a Twitter account, just her venting her thoughts and opinions on the music she loved. And trust me, teenage Mouse was just as cut throat and sarcastic as she is now- maybe even more so- but people loved it, still do. The idea for the radio show came about a couple years later, and that was that."

Adi stopped talking just as they reached the very top. The staircase had led them straight into an open plan room, where a large leather sofa separated the sitting area from the tiny kitchenette in the far back corner, and where half of the living space had been overtaken by a recording booth.

Matty blinked. It wasn't at all what he had been expecting.

"God, this is insane." Jamie suddenly crowed from beside him and Matty followed his manager’s wide eyed gaze to where a skylight had been fitted overhead, giving them a clear view of the bright blue skies they'd just escaped from.

"I know." Adi spoke through a breathy exhale, her eyes twinkling as she grinned up at the oversized window. "It was what sold us on the place, honestly. That, and the access we have to the roof."

She gestured over towards the closest window to the stairs then and Matty found a fire exit hatch sat just on the outside of it.

"Don't think the other tenants renting out the spaces below even know about it. Well that, or we've just been lucky enough to never to catch one another up there." She chuckled and Jamie joined her.

Matty’s hand tightened around his pack of cigarettes, eyes lingering on the hatch. But before he could ask if he could get a quick look at it, Adi was waltzing her way across the room and over towards the kitchen.

She waved them closer and gestured towards two sofas and a vintage looking armchair that should have looked somewhat out of place, if it hadn't been for the rest of the mismatched furniture that littered the space. From the mint green fridge shelving a chaotic range of mugs, to the wearing Victorian coffee table, which was hilariously similar to the one Matty’s grandmother had preened over whenever guests had gone to visit.

"Tea, coffee?" Adi asked and Matty dipped his head as he took a perch on the edge of an armchair facing the tele box. It looked well over two decades old and he questioned the last time he'd seen one that'd had a DVD player built into it.

"Coffee. Black."

Adi raised an amused brow but didn't comment, looking towards Jamie. "And you, Glasses?"

Jamie only chuckled at the name referring to the thick rimmed frames he often wore. "Tea, please. Milk, two sugars."

"Be with you in just a sec!" Adi winked in reply and pulled four mugs down from the fridge.

"Cheers." Jamie thanked her, smiling all the while, before a look of remembrance crossed his face. "So where's this famous Mouse of yours then?"

And as though someone had answered him, Matty looked up to find the door to the recording booth opening and watched as someone stepped out to join them.

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bogmonstergeneral · 1 year ago

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One of my favorite things in the whole wide world is an ultra-accurate cosplay. I’m talking exact name brands. Obviously, this can be tough, because media in question will very rarely go out of their way to tell you what the character is wearing. Shoes, in particular, are very difficult.

I really like shoes. More so, I really like good leather shoes. The kind that last you your whole life. Currently, I’ve been hyperfixated on Metalocalypse, and today, we’re talkin boots.

Welcome to:

Bog’s Boot Basics: Metalocalypse Edition

I think people are scared of leather. I’m here to tell you that leather will not hurt you. You will not save the planet by buying a pleather boot. Actually, not only is pleather horrible for the planet, it’s also gonna cost you more in the long run because pleather isn’t built to last.

Say it with me: Leather is more sustainable than pleather.

I’m serious. Stop buying pleather boots off amazon for your cosplays. Stop buying pleather, period.

Most of the boots (and sneakers) I’m showing you today will not only elevate your cosplay, but also last you for the rest of your natural days. If you buy them secondhand, they have probably lived longer lives than you. Leather fucking rocks if you take care of it.

This all being said: These are not super budget-friendly options. Good new boots are an investment, and sometimes you have to pay a little more. If you’re not able to do that, these can often be found on ebay at lower prices, and very often at second-hand stores.

Ok, that aside, we can jump in.

I’m stealing a pic from the comic because it shows all their shoes. Although Skwis and Toki’s boot colors are actually reversed here - Skwis wears black boots, Toki wears brown in the show. Blah blah, anyway.

Nathan Explosion

Nathan wears some sort of single buckle, black tall boot. For our sake, we’re calling them biker boots.

Single buckle, slightly slouchy at the ankle, low heel. No laces or visible zippers.

Nathan does, in fact, ride motorcycles. Because of this, I’m going on a limb and saying these are actual biker boots. Nathan also, in fact, has money, and Harley Davidson boots are a fantastic choice for this.

Here’s a pair of Harley Chalmers with an extra buckle - no foul there, these are cunty as hell and I’d totally wear them anyway.

Pro: Fucking brutal

Con: Brutal fucking price tag at $200 new.

Honestly, if you’ve got the money and you want a sick pair of boots… buy em. Harley’s last forever.

The Harley double-zip riding boot is a slightly cheaper option, sitting around $100-$120.

Honestly, these are gonna be easy to find. Your keywords here are “Tall biker boot with buckle” or something along those lines. That’s doable. I also see a lot of secondhand Harley’s going for really reasonable asking prices, so always check all your thrift stores and ebay (depop and mercari are kinda a crapshoot, but always worth looking.)

Skwisgaar Skwigelf/Toki Wartooth

These are the boots that made me make this post, because I saw them and immediately thought “there’s no fucking way they’re walking around in those 24/7,” because those are old school field boots.

Ask any person who’s ever ridden a horse over the age of 30 if they can take a look in the backs of their closets, because they most definitely still have a pair of these boots. Every equestrian had at least one pair of these torture devices, and they will outlive you.

Here’s an example of a black pair and a brown pair:

Pros: You can get these on ebay for anywhere between $20-$100. Facebook market place is full of them too.

Cons: These were made for you to wear while sitting on a horse all day, heels down. When you walk in them, they will pinch the everloving fuck out of your heels, and this leather is too thick and stiff to soften. If you’re gonna walk around in these on a convention floor, please bring a change of shoes because you will fucking need them.

But these are so easy to find and they usually shine up really well. If you don’t have leather conditioner (which you should if you own leather shoes) olive oil works in a pinch.

You also usually have a couple different calf options here, so you can tack on “wide calf” or “tall calf” or “slim calf” etc etc depending on your needs.

Your keywords here are “Old school equestrian riding/field/hunt boots.” So fuckin easy.

William Murderface

It pains me to say this. But that dildo fuckhead is wearing Demonias.

Look at him. He knows what he’s doing. I use the term Dildo Fuckhead affectionately btw, please don’t mistake me for a Murderface hater. I love him.

Honestly, I think you could get away with calling these mid-calf’s, but they’re probably technically tall boots.

Obviously I hate Demonias. These plastic fucking emo Barbie boots are worth approximately $8 and a cup of Kraft mac n cheese. They will cost you well over $100. Fuck that.

I’ve heard that older New Rocks are good alternatives? I have a friend that backs that claim up, but I don’t have a pair to confirm that. I’m sure there’s some Doc Martens you could sub in but I couldn’t find any matches under $400.

These are a pair of New Rocks. They’re… that I guess. Kinda cool. He’s probably not even really wearing Demonias but like, that’s what they are. To me. In my heart.

Here’s a pair of Demonia Riot-18BK. I guess. They’re about $133.

Murderface somehow has the most difficult boots for me to find. Plenty of cheapo Temu options, but I’m not here to show you those. Please let me know if you buy a pair of Temu boots so I can come to your house and break every fucking lamp you own.

Your keywords are “Tall boot with buckles” or “tall biker boots with buckles” or anything along those lines.

I feel like you’ve got a little more room for interpretation on Murderface’s boots, so long as their tall boots and they’ve got the buckles, you’re golden.

Wild Card Round: Pickles the Drummer

Man is wearing adidas!!! Pickles cosplayers are the comfiest motherfuckers in the convention hall.

Campus 00s, Samba OGs, Handball Spezial, Superstars, and Racer V 2.0 are all going to get you extremely close renditions of his shoes. The racer’s are my everyday shoe when I don’t wanna wear boots and those fuckers are. So comfy. Wear em without socks, who fuckin cares. I bet Pickles doesn’t even own socks.

If you’re going for Snakes N Barrels Pickles, try looking up “red Justin cowboy boots.” Justin’s are my go to brand because they last forever (I have a pair from the 70s) and they’re pretty comfy. They’re work boots, so they’re made to be worn/worked in all day.

If you’re made of money, buy yourself a pair of Tecovas. Those are the nicest cowboy boot you’ll ever own.

Blam! Bootboard moodboard! I probably should have done this with all of them.

Anyway. Have fun, remember that inaccurate pieces don’t make or break a cosplay, this is just for fun and to elevate whatever you’ve got going on. Wear your shoes until they fall apart (that’s what i do. get your moneys worth), be kind to your feet, be kind to your shoes (actually you can be pretty harsh to leather so long as you do a little aftercare. this is an innuendo, but also please clean and condition your leather pieces.) and be kind to the planet. Leather is better than pleather. You are paying a premium for plastic. Don’t do that.

(Lemme know if this is cool/useful btw. I would be so happy to find boots/brands of clothing for your cosplays. I think my inbox is open.)

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse cosplay #cosplay tutorial #cosplay help #bog blab #nathan explosion #william murderface #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #pickles the drummer #dethklok #dethklok cosplay

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samkat10423 · 3 months ago

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Mayumachi

Remember how I've told all of you that I have the attention span of a gnat? Well, it's true. Lately I've been following @lifeofsims3 who has been sharing the lots that she's made for Mayumachi. (https://simsrepublic.blogspot.com/2015/05/) And since I played in this world over a year ago, I decided to revisit it. Anyway, for those of you who've never heard of this world, it was created by SimsRepublic back in 2014. The last lot she made for it was in 2015, and then she just gave up on it. It's a fun little world to visit, but OMG!!!!! There are like a gazillion 10x10 lots. For real! She did make some 10x15 and 10x20, but they're all little. And since CAW hates me - and she never shared her CAW files even though several peopled begged - it is what it is.

Anyway, today I'll show you some of the lots in my town. Some are by @lifeofsims3 and some are ones I found. And some are ones I made. Who knew!

This is one of the bigger lots in town - a 20x30 - and it's where I placed the town community garden. It was created by HystericalParoxysm. The hardest part about using this lot, was finding Gosik's Mansfield Planters. But they were worth the search. Anyway, the only thing I did to this lot, was add that canning station in one of the builds. To the left of it, is the new town playhouse - a live show venue lot I found over on My Sims Reality. I changed the roof up a bit. And rearranged all the furnishings inside to make it more like a small town playhouse. And added some graffiti.

These 2 lots are part of the Simopec Corporation. They also own the old Bottling Plant, which they purchased for a song after forcing the original owners into bankruptcy, but they don't talk about that much.

Anyway the one on the left came from Mod the Sims. It was on a smaller lot and I just added stuff to it - like that car from Roaring Heights and some new landscaping. The other lot - which you can hardly see - is just the business rabbithole I slapped together. Nothing special.

The brown brick building is the town firehouse that was part of the original lots offered for download by SimsRepublic. Her Academy lot's link no longer works, so I built a new dojo on a 20x20 lot next door. It's the light gray one.

This is some of the housing. I know the apartment building came from SimsRepublic, but I can't remember about the single-family house. (It's been over a year, after all).The building in the background is an internet cafe that I whipped up. It has that store garden set grow station on the roof. Why? Because I'm nuts.

This is the local police department created by SimsRepublic for a smaller lot. This was another 20x20, so I had room for some landscaping. I did partially furnish the inside with @aroundthesims police stuff. So, thank you, Sandy!

And this is the local hospital/science research facility. I think this is a 25x25 lot - so BIG!!!! Anyway, right now, it's just a shell with the 2 RH rugs. I'll probably use Sandy's sets to furnish it eventually, but for now, it is what it is.

Across the street are 2 apartment lots. I think I got the originals from Mod the Sims, then just tweaked then to work here. After all, have to get those stupid NPCs off the streets.

And the final lot I currently have along Main Street is one I found over on TSR a long time ago. I think I zoned it as a fusion lounge.

And now I have to take my Devil Dog outside because she says she has to go NOW!

#sims 3 #Mayumachi #thanks to all the people whose lots I've used

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natriae · 2 years ago

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Most beautiful woman ♡

ushijima fic

a/n: this is a ver self indulging fic. I normally try and characteristics of y/n out, but like i said this is very self indulging. It's just a little drabble i came up with while tryna stop be so insecure abt my hair. Also this was supposed to be posted yesterday but i forgot :)

background info:

you and 'toshi met while he was playing volleyball in poland and recently you guys just moved back to Japan (you are not from japan). Also, Kiyoomi is a single dad.

Since moving to Japan life has been full of seeing new places and meeting 'Toshi's friends and family. It was a fresh start for you considering you have never been to such a foreign place, but you always felt comfortable when you were with Wakatoshi.

It was his idea to move back and you could see how his eyes lit up at the thought. Since coming back 'Toshi has tried to regularly keep in contact with his friends and plan hangouts. Today was one of those days. 'Toshi was going to be going out with his friend, Kiyoomi, for the night and you would stay in and watch his beautiful baby girl. She had the biggest dark brown doe eyes and perfect curls surrounding her face. While the two men were out. Your night was filled with cartoon toys and a very energetic five year old.

You always heard how smart the little girl was through texts and pictures shared between Wakatoshi and Kiyoomi, but you didn't realize it went pass just academics. While pausing the movie to use the restroom Keiko, kiyoomi's daughter, decided to share something.

"y/n chan... do you like my hair?" The little girl asked. Her eyes got bigger beginning to fill with tears. Getting down on your knees you immediately hugged the small child to comfort her.

"ofc i do. Why wouldn't i," you responed. You couldn't believe these thoughts were coming up, and were worried what they would lead too.

"w-well people at my school have been commenting on it. Saying that it's much different then their hair, a-and my papa has hair like me so he wouldn't get it," You hugged the sniffling girl tighter in your arms as she explained. Your heart felt a little tighter hearing her explanation. "i wish i could just have straight hair like you and everyone else,"

Her final sentence is what hurt you the most. For years you have been straighting and doing everything in your power to keep your hair straight. Even keeping it pulled back and braided when you and 'toshi went to the beach. It hurt to hear the little girl having the same thoughts as a grown women like you. Tears started to pool at your eyes but you wanted to appear strong for the little girl in you arms. Leading down to kiss the top of her head you whispered to her, "oh baby... can i tell you a secret," at that her red eyes peered up at you like whatever you said could make of break her whole night. "my hair is actually a lot like yours. more curly then wavy. i'll show you. Come with me."

The little one trailed behind you to the bathroom. Wiping her eyes every once in a while on the way there. You could tell she was skeptical on you, but she would stay silent because she trusted you. She trusted you. The guilt was already beginning to settle in. "do you have a spray bottle," you asked and you placed her on the white counter.

"yeah, papa keeps one in there when he does my hair," she says as she points to the cabinet below the sink. Low and behold there are plenty of hair products made specifically for those with curly hair. You picked up the pink bottle filled with water and began misting your hair. Make sure to get all of it.

"i have very thick hair so you have to be patient okay," Keiko nodded at that and patiently watched you wet your hair as she kicked her feet gently off the counter. "now im gonna separate, brush, and start putting in the curl cream," Taking the brush you began section your hair, putting the cream in, and begin making small tight curls with the brushes handle. In the corner of you eye you could see the little girl watching in awe. It took much longer then you expected after not doing you hair in such a long time. Finally you finished it off with the curling moose, and showed her the final product.

To say Keiko was happy would be an understatement. Her smile was huge and you could see her missing front tooth as she looked at you like you put all the stars in the sky. "you have to pinky promise me that you will never hide your beautiful curls from the world, okay." she nods st your words and begins to hold out her pinky for you to link with. Both of you kiss your thumbs to seal the deal. You spent the rest of the night playing with Keiko and making sure she didn't have any bad thoughts. You on the other hand made sure Keiko couldn't see that you were just as insecure - maybe even more- then Keiko was about your curls.

You felt like a hypocrite. You spent so much of your time straighting and making sure your hair was dried a certain way so that no one could tell your hair was any different from theirs. You hoped that Keiko would never have to experience the things that were said to you. And a little part of you wished you had someone like yourself when you were younger to tell you how pretty your curls were. Sadly, you couldn't bring yourself to accept your curls and planned to wash and redo your hair before the guys came back. You just weren't ready for such a big jump. 'toshi probably wouldn't think you were as beautiful if you showed him your natural hair. He probably would break up with you because they made you ugly, and find another girl with better hair. After moving to Japan your insecurities skyrocked seeing that the standard was to have straight hair. Very rarely did you see a girl with curly hair.

Lost in your thoughts you hadn't heard the front door begin to open untill it was to late. Two six foot tall men came walking into the small home. It was dark and you were frozen in your spot. Keiko immediately ran to her father happy to see him home early. You on the other hand glued to your seat on the floor and kept your back turned from your boyfriend. "y/n...hey" 'Toshi deep voice traveled through the home to were you were seated on the living room floor.

Slowly turning round you saw your boyfriend with his standard expressionless face, but you knew this wasn't his ordinary deadpan look. He was thinking.

a lot.

Beginning to get worried you stood up and began walking over to him. Ready to explain that you did your hair with a curling iron (toshi knew that those curls could not be made easily with an iron). His mouth opened and closed and then open and closed again like he was trying to say wow. "'toshi it's-"

"you are the most beautiful women i've ever seen, and somehow you just became more beautifuler"

smiling at his response you couldn't help but tell him, "toshi i dont think beaurifuler is a word" giggling a bit at your boyfriend's vocabulary.

"well idk how else to describe you," he responded still with a shocked look on his face but his eyes told you that he was in awe of what he was looking at. "i-is this your natural hair. It's so pretty." You slowly nodded at that pulling in you lips in as you could feel your body heating up. 'toshi made you shy a lot but never this much. looking down you slowly wrapped your self around his waist and pressed your head into his chest. He was your safe place. He always knew the perfect words to say to you, and he definitely had the key to your heart.

Later Kiyoomi came back downstairs after putting Keiko to sleep. "thank you so much. She said you made her really love her curls. Idk what exactly happened, but im glad she's happy with you." Your happy to be with Keiko too. You may have taught her a valuable lesson but she in turn taught you one. You would never hide you curls again, and especially not from your wakatoshi.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #ushijima imagine #ushijima headcanons #ushijima fluff #ushijima x reader #ushijima fic #ushijima wakatoshi

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