#is we don't know for sure how much time there was

[viaviavie]

BLOT BATTLEMENT (100 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE)

in which he suffers watching you fawn over his overblotted copy who seems to be in love with you.

SUMMARY: after an experiment gone wrong, an overblotted clone of one of the victims has re-emerged. luckily for everyone, it's reasonably powerless and will eventually disappear. unluckily for him, the clone seems to reflect his true feelings towards you.

PAIRINGS: overblot gang x reader (seperately)

WARNINGS: suggestive (for jamil, vil, and idia), slight possibility of drowning (azul), projection for ob!vil

NOTES: this is in celebration of hitting 100 followers! thank you so much for following my work, and for all the comments you have left behind! i will also be rewriting malleus's section once book 7 is complete! on another note, pls invade my inbox if you immediately see that reference from malleus's section, mwah!

"That's enough. If one of you barks one more time, I will have to show you what happens to unruly puppies that won't obey." Crewel sighs and pinched his nose, another hand gripping his baton in irritation. "Unfortunately, we cannot fix this in an hour. You bad doggies need to get along until this entire issue is resolved."

The professor clicked his tongue, shoving the two out of his office. "I have already contacted someone to get you both. Surely, the Prefect has survived both of you once and will be able to do it again. So stay put, and be good. Or else."

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Seeing his Overblotted self summons waves of shame and embarrassment for Riddle. It was not his best moment at all, and that inky copy is a reflection of his worst flaws and traits. You could imagine how rushed Riddle was to collar his copy in fear that it would hurt others again, especially you who had already dealt with it once.

"Don't make me repeat myself, I demand that I see my King of Hearts, this instant!" It's very much like babysitting a spoiled child, and it makes Riddle so wracked with embarrassment. He cannot control his copy as it stomps and yells outrageous demands to see you. Riddle was really on the verge of collaring it and dragging it back to Heartsyabul when you turned the corner.

OB!Riddle's smile is so wide that it could be mistaken as sinister. "My rose!" Inky blot is smeared all over your uniform as the fake runs towards you. Just as Riddle was about to whip out his wand to stop it, you relax and return the embrace, albeit with a confused expression. Riddle manages to explain very quickly whilst trying to pry off his copy, but you suggest that it is best to let it do what it wants.

What Riddle doesn't tell you is that his copy reflects his desires as well, claiming he is uncertain why it insists on being so affectionate with you. However, it seems to be quite the blessing when OB!Riddle marches to the Heartslabyul dorm to resume its position as Housewarden. In fact, the entire dorm thanks you profusely for being able to manage that little tyrant with a bat of your eyelashes and a gentle voice.

"Trappola, have you not learned your lesson!? Rule #186, you shall not eat hamburg steak on Tuesday! OFF WITH YOUR HEAD—" Tapping lightly on its shoulder, you attempt to placate the copy with a weak smile. "Riddle— I mean, Housewarden Riddle, Ace has not been able to eat all day and the steak was the only thing left in the cafeteria. He did not have much of a choice." Suddenly, the copy's face softened before relaxing back into its seat.

"My rose, I mustn't bend the rules. If I bent them for one, I would have to bend them for all." It scowls, only sinking further into its chair as you rub gentle circles around his forearm. The entire table stares at you with looks of gratitude and relief, all in agreement that you just saved everyone a tantrum's worth of stress. You hummed at the copy, nodding softly. "I know, dear. May I remind you that rules are there to ensure everyone is happy and safe? If Ace hadn't eaten his lunch, perhaps he might have gorged on the tarts instead."

"I suppose you are right, my King of Hearts."

Riddle seethes from the other side of the table, arms crossed and face on the verge of turning red. It was hard for him to decide whether he was merely jealous, or upset at his own copy rampaging around as if he were the real one in charge. He pauses for a moment as an epiphany comes to him.

Is this what it looks like whenever the Prefect is here to calm me down from my temper?

Even though OB!Riddle cannot use his magic, Riddle is extremely watchful of his copy. It is perhaps the ugliest side of him, and the last thing he wants is an Unbirthday Party ruined and spoiled by ink. They only had to put up with it for a day, and surely, Riddle has enough patience to ride out this episode.

He does have to watch and hold himself back as his copy acts so familiar with you. A hand at your lower back, perhaps an inky kiss on the cheek, and you being referred to as 'his rose'? It should have been me!

When his copy disappears, Riddle takes the time to pull you aside and admit the truth behind the blot's behavior. His jealousy seems to have pushed him into confessing, and he makes it clear that he would rather earn your feelings properly instead of coercing you for affection with potential tantrums.

"Forgive me, Prefect. I apologize for my copy's behavior. I have to tell you the truth— it was reflecting my innermost feelings. Prefect, I harbor these affections for you and I yearn to be more than friends. You do not have to tell me anything else at the moment. If you wish for time, I understand as well. Allow me to be curt, at least just this once. I like you more than a friend should, and I would hope to hear your response soon." (So polite!)

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

What a drag. Does he really need to help monitor his own Overblotted self? If you were able to survive it once, you should be able to handle that huge lion on your own. OB!Leona appears to be nothing but a grumpy lion who answers to no one, only being forcibly dragged around by his original self.

It changes when you show up. Suddenly, the copy springs to life in your presence and is completely disobeying the original.

You are taken by surprise when OB!Leona backs you onto a wall, a clawed hand lightly brushing against your cheek. "Herbivore," He breathed as his green eyes zoned in on you. "You should be more careful when you wander these halls alone." You couldn't help but gulp as he grins, fangs glinting against the sunlight. "You never know who might just be planning to eat you."

But when Leona takes notice of his Overblot's sharp nails cut into your skin, his attitude changes as well. The original takes initiative to pull you away and stand between you both. Perhaps you don't understand the way they bare teeth at one another, taking aggressive stances as if one or the other would jump and claw at their target. It sets the tone for a very tense environment as you attempt to drag them both to Savanaclaw.

It was best to keep both lion beastmen confined in his room. Considering that OB!Leona was focused on getting your attention, it wasn't hard to manage him. It was all that his overblotted self wanted; attention and absolute adoration. Leona, on the other hand, was more so bothered by the fact you smelled too much like ink in his own room.

"Tell me, do you look at anyone else like this?" Having been kicked out of his own bed, Leona could only stare blankly from his couch as his copy kept you trapped against its chest on the mattress. It only served to annoy him further when you seemed to reciprocate the attention it was giving you. "No, only you." The copy smirks, its tail entangled around one of your legs. "Then tell me, why? What do you adore about me?"

You hummed, sighing while your hand began to play with his mane-like hair. "You're brilliant. You're the most cunning lion that I know." Leona swears you were teasing him as you take a quick glance at him, smiling slightly. "And you're the only one that can protect me." With a mocking grin, the copy cups your cheek and returns your gaze to his own. "Tell me more, herbivore."

When the copy finally reverts back to ink, Leona can't help but find some relief in having the bed (and you) all to himself again. The first thing he does is drag you to the mattress and keep you trapped against his chest. You still smell of ink and lion, and it's his job to fix that.

"Go to bed, herbivore... Ha? I don't have to give you an explanation. You're a smart cookie, haven't you figured it out yet? ... Even with all the answers my blotted copy gave you, you're still not satisfied? Hmph, that's not my problem anymore. You're mine now, is that what you wanted to hear? ... Good. Now if that is all, let's go to sleep. You reek of ink..."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

It had become priority to get Azul's overblotted self into the biggest Octanivelle tank, which also happened to be the most isolated one. While OB!Azul seemed to be temporarily human, he seemed more irate with each second spent on the surface. It only relaxes slightly when it spots you, but his grip on your arm never relents. "Prefect, please. I need the sea..." He's just so needy and in pain. You'd help him, would you?

Azul is absolutely livid. He doesn't want you to see his copy in such a pathetic state. He most certainly tried to get you to turn the other way and march straight home, but you had to hit him with, "Even if it's your overblotted self, I would still help you." It might have been just a small comment, but he takes it as if you would move mountains for him. You weren't making it transactional, and that's practically special treatment for him.

You thought that his overblotted self would settle once in that tank. The copy immediately sheds its human form in favor of his merform, much to Azul's embarrassment. The businessman ready to drag you out and leave that blotted mess to fend for itself when a tentacle had dragged you into the water. Suddenly, you're met with teary blue eyes just before you were submerged. "You didn't plan to leave me here alone, did you?"

And goodness, Azul is just torn between fuming and panicking as his copy drags you further and further down. To make things worse, you haven't even taken a breathing potion! That was more than enough to make the octomer shake off his anxieties and plunge down into the waters after you before you drowned.

"And then what? What exactly were you planning to do once you had the Prefect here?" Azul pinched the bridge of his nose as he crossed his arms, unable to even make eye contact with you. Clutching at the little potion bottle in your hands, you do your best to ignore the way that the copy's tentacles seem to latch onto every single limb of yours. Not to mention how they twitch and slowly coil against your skin, or the way that the copy buries itself into your neck with a whine while it ignores its original.

"Why? Why won't you give me an answer?" It murmurs, arms caging you into its chest. You can see Azul's jaw clench, but you cannot exactly tell if he's embarrassed by how pathetic his overblot can be or envious of how it got a chance to be so close. "I'll give you everything. You will never want for anything. All you have to do is say that you'll be mine." The copy grits its teeth as it tightens its grip on you, tearing a surprised gasp from your throat.

"Why won't you surrender to me?"

The moment that this entire fiasco ends, you never see Azul for another two weeks. Every time you go to the Mostro Lounge to see him, he's suddenly occupied with every single disaster known to man. It isn't until Floyd gets bored of the entire thing when you get the opportunity to be tossed into the tank again. It isn't until Azul jumps into the tank after you with another breathing potion to save you, again.

"Please don't speak of that incident, Prefect. I wish you never had to be witness to such a sorry display... W-What do you mean Floyd told you about that botched blot experiment?! ... Don't play with me, Prefect. You can't just say that you'll surrender to me, you'll hurt my poor heart! ... If you dare say it again, I am afraid that the contract can never be broken. Choose your next words wisely, Prefect. Not all agreements have to be in writing."

JAMIL VIPER

Of all the Overblots here, Jamil's was the most... unhinged one, surprisingly. It was also the nastiest, based on how it seemed to disregard everyone around him. Truly, it was the worst of Jamil's envy and wrath towards everyone around him for shaping him as a servant. No matter what Jamil did to snap some sense into his copy's head, it only served to tick it off even more.

When you came to assess the situation, however, you immediately got the sense that the Overblot will not be cooperative unless it gets what it wants.

"Master Jamil," Both copy and original froze, slowly turning their heads to you, who has knelt onto the floor with a small smile. "A frown does not suit such a handsome face. Is there anything I can do for you?" Jamil remains frozen, mentally screaming in his head while his Overblotted self smirks, sauntering towards you with desire swirling in his maddened gaze. "Rise, my diamond. You certainly may do a little favour for me..."

Thanks to Kalim and the coordination of the entire Scarabia dorm, everyone has tricked OB!Jamil into thinking it was the boss of the place (at least for a day, Kamil is super understanding of the situation!). At least someone expected the copy to see through this farce, but OB!Jamil's ego was so stroked by you and everyone around that it seemed to buy into the delusion.

Unlike Leona's copy which was super uninterested with anything that didn't concern you, Jamil's blotted self was extremely irritant with everyone else. Had it not been for you, Jamil would never be able to live down the embarrassment for having such an... unpleasant copy. So far, there have been no disasters while Jamil was occupied with keeping his copy at bay.

It's just that... Jamil has been watching from the sidelines as you are perched on his copy's lap, feeding it and attending to it's every beck and call!

Gripping his knee, Jamil's eyes narrowed onto your flushed gaze as your fingers combed through his copy's hair. If he had envied everything that Kalim ever wase, he certainly envied the abomination wearing his face as it rested its head on your lap. You didn't have to look at Jamil to know that he was seething, but it wasn't as if you could abandon the blotted copy either. It had only been a few hours since it had latched onto you, and this was not the best time to agitate it.

"It seems that I have not rewarded you." The copy sings. Its expression remains content, shuddering at the sensation of your fingers pulling gently at its scalp. "Do tell me what you desire most." Your breath hitched at the copy's purr. You do not react either as the fake Jamil sits up to caress your warm cheek. Biting onto your lower lip, you shook your head. "I desire nothing but to make you happy, master." You swear that you see Jamil's expression strain itself, and you already see how tight he grips his knee.

"Is that so?" You say nothing when the copy leans in closer to you, licking its lips with intent. You should be frightened, and most certainly be running away, but you don't. "You wish to make me happy, then? Is it me that you want?"

All the signs were there. That copy's hand was pressed against your lower back, the other hand was on your cheek, and his face was so so close—

Its lips are hot to the touch, and you melt immediately into his hands as he pushes and prods with his tongue. Against the candlelight, Jamil cannot tell if your cheeks were truly flushed red. He watches as your own hands crept up onto the copy's shoulders, pressing and digging nails into its shoulders until you have the strength to push yourself away for air.

You pant as your vision returns to you, meeting the copy's cruel smirk. It is looking down on you, and yet, you do not feel animosity towards it. You only feel disappointment once you recall it was only a fake.

"Or perhaps," A gasp is torn from your throat when the fake grabs your cheeks with a firm hand, forcing your gaze to fall upon a stunned, yet flushed Jamil. The copy smiles wickedly against your cheek, humming with absolute glee.

"Is it him that you want instead?"

You nod, and Jamil's heart skips a beat.

Yeah, no. Our boy Jamil ain't recovering from this. The moment that the blot disappears, you best expect that Jamil ain't letting you leave that room without an answer.

"I wouldn't act coy right now, Prefect. You may be clever, but I have no patience for your antics. Now, are you going to be honest with me? ... Why don't you tell me what you want, instead? What? But you were so honest with that fake only a few moments ago. Where have your words gone? ... You wish for me to force the truth out of you, then? ... As you wish, Prefect. I will give you everything you want."

VIL SCHOENHEIT

This was such an inconvenience for poor Vil, and he hates his copy to the same extent that Azul does. Just like Riddle, Vil feels a sense of shame when he looks at his doppelganger because it was a personification of his insecurities and selfishness. However, at least the copy was very calm and cooperative, perhaps even melancholy until it sees you.

Seeing Vil's Overblotted self again doesn't change the fact that the fake was still so beautiful. You are actually stunned into silence when you are brought before the two. Grim swears you have stopped functioning because being in the presence of two Vil's is too much for this world.

If you weren't watching yourself, you would've passed out the moment OB!Vil cupped your cheek with its inky hand and smiled down at you. "Ah, Prefect..." You gulped as it cooed at you, much to Vil's alarm. Its surely dangerous, but danger loves you so much and you can't pull away from it.

OB!Vil never lets you out of its sight after that. Wherever you went, the blot would follow. It seems to be fixated on being in your sights, which was not exactly a problem when you brought yourself to Vil's quarters where you would wait the entire thing out. It does concern you, however, just as the copy seems to grow more and more unhinged with each second that passes.

Vil is not exactly envious of how intimate the fake acts with you. Rather, he's extremely perplexed and observant of the way it pines for your attention and praise like a lovesick puppy. However, it isn't always so sweet. It isn't so sweet when the copy comes so close to scratching at your skin as it begs for your honesty. It certainly does not appreciate being lied to.

"Tell me, Prefect. Who is the fairest one of all?" It asks for the hundredth time.

Vil cannot exactly explain how he found himself watching his copy cage you into his own bed. It has straddled your hips, pinning your hands down onto the mattress without a care for the mess it makes. Ink drips and spills over his silk sheets, his pillows, you. Your neck has been smeared with ink, and so have your clothes. His copy is smiling with ink dripping from its lips and its hair, an obscure yet beautiful mockery of the original.

The original's breath hitches as your lips part into a breathy smile. You look like absolute art, and his fake looks like an absolute mess. "You, Vil. You're the fairest one of all." Vil shut his eyes at your quiet whisper, and he wishes that you stop bending yourself over for this pathetic imitation of him.

The copy snorted in dismissal, a sinister grin taking over its features. "Ha!" Even as it grips your wrists tighter, you know better than to believe that the copy would dare hurt you. Your heart pounds, however, as it leans in closely to your face with desperation on its breath. "Why do you say such, Prefect? Why do you say such when you feast your gaze on the ugliest part of me?" A choked breath stills the copy, its grin growing more crooked and maddened. Ink splashes against your cheek, and the copy pathetically takes a long finger to smear it away, only obscuring your features further.

"Are you trying to lie to me?" It croaked, maintaining that desperately smile.

Vil thinks you'll push it away. Vil thinks that you think of his copy so hideously, and so ugly. Vil thinks that you see him as ugly.

And you dispel all those cursed thoughts as your hand reaches out to cup the copy's cheek, dirtying your own hand in turn. "You've pushed yourself so hard, Vil. You've worked hard for everything you dreamed of." The copy's crazed expression remains, and more ink pours into you. Still, you return it with a gentle smile of your own. "Even when everyone complains, you're only pushing them because you care the most. Perhaps you act like the evil queen everyone makes you out to be, but that crown is yours by right."

Vil's heart stops. He still cannot bring himself to look at the sight. It's that cynical part of him that believe in your acting skills, that this was all a ruse to satiate his fake. The knife digs into his chest further as you hummed sweetly. "Your flaws are just as beautiful to me."

Only then does Vil bring himself to look at his copy. It is still smiling, eyes so wide as blotted tears fall upon your skin. You are covered in ink, covered in the ugliness that had consumed Vil, but you accept it all. You embrace the mess, just as you embrace the ugliness of Vil's heart. "Do you truly mean it, Prefect?" Its whisper shakes with hope, very much unlike the weariness and suspicion it held towards you the entire time.

Both you and the copy slowly glance at the real Vil whose eyes had widened at your softened gaze, filled with nothing but adoration. The heart in his chest ached, and he imagines that his entire body is melting into your hands. You are his weakness, after all.

"I mean every word, Vil."

When the situation died down, Vil takes the time to walk you back to Ramshackle Dorm. However, he makes a quick stop when the moon is set at the right spot, just to cast down light on your starstruck gaze.

"To think that the ugliest part of me revealed such feelings— you deserve an appropriate confession, at the very least. The affection that my fake expressed to you was no different to what I feel for you. I realize... that you meant more to me than you should have. I am not a benevolent prince, nor am I pure as the white snow. Still, I offer my heart for you to keep in a box. I only ask you to accept me, for all my beauty and ugliness... Ha, potato. My lovely potato, you're mine..."

IDIA SHROUD

Surprisingly, Idia got along the most with his Overblotted self. It wasn't as if he was driven by pride or competition— there was just some sort of acceptance when OB!Idia was first manifested. There wouldn't have been much issues.

At least, that was what he wanted to believe before OB!Idia set his eyes on you. It sent Idia into a choking fit when he saw OB!Idia approach you with such cool indifference, acting like one of those aloof protagonists from those dark otome games that he saw on a playthrough once. It's the way that OB!Idia leaned down towards your ear, muttering something about his boredom and suggesting to retreat to his dorm.

Idia took an hour to recover before sprinting to his dorm to ensure nothing has happened. All he found was you sitting on OB!Idia's thighs (it insisted!), and Idia swore that his copy was smirking at him.

OB!Idia was nothing to be concerned about. It wasn't as if it had the power to open up the Gate of the Underworld, which so happened to be far away. Other than the fact that the copy seems so... forward with you, Idia tried his hardest to ignore it.

"You look tense, Prefect." The copy smirked as it gently backed you against the wall. It places an arm right above your head, the figure leaning down at you. Behind the mask it wore, you can almost see it smirking down on you. "Don't I scare you?"

If this was the copy's attempt to intimidate you, ha! You got it covered! Idia is practically weak to any sort of romantic notion, it should surely send his overblot into a flustered fit! Boldly, you close in the gap slightly, crossing your arms around his neck and smiled at him. "Not at all, Idia." Much to your surprise, however, the copy takes its hand to cradle the back of your head, gently nudging your face closer until you barely a hair's worth away from kissing his mask.

"Are you sure about that?"

Suddenly a flare of red catches your attention as you glance to the side to see a fuming Idia who snuck over to your side. Wrapping a possessive arm around your middle, the original Idia glared at the fake and gritted his sharp teeth. "Listen here, bucko. You ain't getting more action than me, so buzz off!" He towers over you, hair threatening to burn orange if this fake continues to toy with you. "You wanna play, huh? Only one of us can have her, and you're nothing but a MagicMart knock-off!"

Cocking its head to the side, the copy snorted. It didn't seem to relent its hold it had on you. Instead, it leaned in towards Idia with a taunting stare. "Yeah? Why don't you ask the Prefect, hm? Seems like our little guest is enjoying all the attention." Both of them glance down at you, who seemed to be busy turning red to even give a proper response.

The blotted copy takes its hand to cup your cheek gently, but it was only a ruse as it forces you to look at Idia, eyes hazy with want. The way your breath shudders makes the original itch to steal you away from the copy.

"Don't you?"

Take that ending however you will. Idia does end up confessing to you once his copy is reduced to ink once more.

"Don't give me that look, Prefect. You totally loved seeing me get all riled up. And don't you dare deny you hated the idea of getting sandwiched by two of me... Please don't make me say it. I ain't good at the 'asking out' part, but I don't wanna skip over to straight up dating. Ugh, fine. I actually liked you for a really long time, and oh Great Seven, I just hope that I'm saying the right stuff to get onto your route. You're the only route that I wanna pursue."

MALLEUS DRACONIA (Book 7 is incomplete at the time of this posting)

Had it not been for the lack of potency in the blot, OB!Malleus would have been the end of NRC. Lilia was not a stranger to Malleus's ability to change the environment based on his mood. Even when this was a mere fake that they were dealing with, no one really wants to find out the consequences of upsetting the copy.

Malleus looks down on his Overblotted self. It was a flawed part of him, but nonetheless, a part of him that he was most disappointed by. The Fae Prince should know better than to act so wickedly, but the original understands. He tries to be as sympathetic as he can be for the copy, but it was only indifferent to what the original demanded of it.

Being the concerned friend that you were, you went to see them both despite all warnings from Sebek. Admittedly, Malleus would rather you be as far away from this poor imitation as possible. He does not want to see you hurt, let alone be at the mercy of his copy. Alas, it is too late now. The blotted copy will not allow you to leave.

Malleus hid his frustrations and anger underneath that collected demeanor. The only thing keeping him from doing anything rash was the fact that you were cradled against his chest. With a protective arm holding your waist, you were seated upon the fae's lap. The copy is forced to look up at him as he sat on his makeshift throne, and the fury behind its eyes is most evident, based on the way its hands grip your knees as if it were the only piece of you left.

Alas, it is only a stalemate now. With each tug that the copy made at your lower half, Malleus would simply pull you closer to him in turn. The fae hummed, glaring down at the copy who seems indifferent to intimidation. "Prefect, you may only say the word and this fake will be no more." He grunted, and you resist the urge to whimper as the copy's lips turned upwards into a smile. "If you wish for it, Prefect, I will disappear." It cooed, and the glint in its eyes reflecting the madness of blot.

Hesitantly, you shake your head and only feel Malleus's nails brush against your waist. "I don't want you to disappear." You whispered meekly, uncertain of what to think of the fake's lovestruck gaze. "Prefect, do you know what I can give you?" Even as the fake is forced down by the original, it still has the nerve to reach out and cup your cheek. "I can grant your dreams. I can make your fantasies a reality. I can give you everything."

Malleus lets out a breath of warning, leaning down to your ear as he narrowed his eyes at the fake with restraint. "Do not listen to this mockery, Prefect." His words are tinged with a hint of desperation, as if he had something to hide, something to shield you from. No matter how much he attempts to intimidate the fake, his blotted self presses on with a cruel smile.

"Prefect, all you have to do is love me, fear me, and do as I say. I will be your servant to will, to rule, to ruin." You are frozen as Malleus loses his temper, swinging out his staff to dispel the fake once and for all. Much to his dismay, his blotted self backs away just in time as its glowing green eyes lock onto yours once more.

"All you have to do is stay with me, forever."

The campus lets out a collective sigh of relief when the OB!Malleus disappears. However, suddenly, the entire campus is holding its breath again when Malleus doesn't immediately let you leave his room.

"Prefect, I beseech for your forgiveness. I fear that the fake has reflected my most selfish desires... You have nothing to fear, for I shall never withhold you against your will. How could I do such a thing when I am already so weak to your whims? ... Perhaps you do not have to stay forever to render me your servant. I pine for you, Prefect. My heart has already been yours long before I noticed. Please, grant me your forgiveness, Prefect, lest you cast me aside and I shall let my feelings fade with time."

[beautifullilacsky]

"Will you overthinking this?" He asked as we were walking hand in hand in the park.

Me, fully aware I have already started overthinking the moment he mentioned that her friend broke off her relationship: "....... juuup"

"What are you overthinking about? Lets discuss it together, let me help"... I explained how, maybe, now that she is single, she might try to get over a guy by getting under another one. Or maybe, since you guys tall about problems and are pretty close, she turns to flirting now that she is single. "Okay and? Why would I get into that while I have my girlfriend at home? I would say no thank you. Also, I don't think she is the person to do that. I have met her before she was in a relationship, and she also wasn't like this then". Okay, well, .. maybe she will have heard bad things about me and will not like me or she will think I am not good enough for you, or too much, and tell you to break up with me. I mean, I'm in a relationship with you, not with her, but ja, well... He put his arms around me and stopped us from walking on, hugging me from behind. "Sometimes I forget how insecure you can be. Do you really think I'll just break up with you because someone tells me to? And besides, I think you should meet her. She is really kind and everytime I mentioned something, she was always more on the reassuring side." Well, I also thought your other friend was kind.. "..... true. ..... I don't have an argument against that."

"So... if she were to still be in a relationship, would it be okay? .. meh, I feel like that's a bad excuse. "Yeah she is in a relationship anyway" , as if that changes anything. Doesn't that sound like a bad thing to you?" Hmm. Well. Honestly, I felt better when she was in a relationship, assuming it wasn't an u know who typa relationship. It's always a 2 people's decision. And that way, I am at least sure that one side is on the no side (as I said it out loud, I realized how fuckedup it sounded.) "Shouldn't you trust me to already be on the no side?" .... I should, yes. I just don't know what to make of the fact that you told me that you can't promise me that it won't happen again. "That was a year ago" .... "back then I wasn't super sure, and before that I was def not sure. Also, I did not want to force you to trust me (def different exact words from his, buthey, u get the point.). It's been a year." Would you get back to it and say something different now then? "Yes. I am sure that it will never happen again".

And there it was. I know he is a firm believer in actions over words, but sometimes I need words to be sure. He told me that he tells me the truth, and I know he does. Thus, if he tells me, I believe him. So. Maybe this is what I needed to truly get to trusting him again. His word. It's not a signed contract, I know. I can't sue him if his words turn out to be false. Though, I needed this. I needed his faith in himself to make sure it won't happen again. Fuck damn hey. I needed him to believe in himself. If he doesn't believe he will stop it the next time, who am I to believe so? Well well well. Before he left, if our roommate wasn't sitting right next to me, I would've said after he asked me if I'm still okay (for like, the 3th time): "if you say it won't happen again, I trust you." Fuck. And I'd mean it. I feel like I have entered a new reality. One in which it is safe for me to have faith in him. In which, sure, maybe a girl will flirt with him, but I can laugh about it. I can be proud to be with that hotstuff that she can't help but talk to. I can make jokes about it and raise my eyebrows up and down. I can do it all, and enjoy the situation, knowing. Truly knowing. That it doesn't matter at all if the other party is on the "yes-boat". He isn't, and he won't get onto it either. Even if a chance presents itself, he won't even see it as one. He has the set in stone plan to come back home to me. Even if she would get him drunk and touch him all over, ... he will say no. Even if it scares me more with booze, he is still himself. He doesn't get into a crazy trans and turns into a different person with different values. He is still the same person who held my hand as we walked in the autumn colored park, and said that it would never happen again.

It feels like something in me has been freed. As if trust was a fluffy creature within me, which was tied down. His words freed it. It still can't believe that the tiny trust guy is free. That it's safe to stand up now and run and smile and truly trust. It's astonished, grasping for those words that set it free. Wanting to hold them and craving for them to invade its veins with its lightning energy and brightness. May it no longer feel the need to stay on the ground; the ties have been undone. Fuck.

[writingwithciara]

could be -jack hughes-

summary: y/n and jack are as inseparable as real best friends should be. so much so that even though they're not dating, she is considered a 'wag' anyway

word count: 4.6k

pairing: jack hughes x reader

notes: jack is just precious and so wholesome istg.

masterlist

growing up, jack was always taught to treat women with respect. he was also told that he should pay special attention to the girl in his life that meant the world to him.

and that's what he did with y/n. she was his best friend & had been since the 6th grade. ever since they met, they were completely inseparable.

even when jack went straight from high school to being a professional hockey player, y/n went with him. she figured she could take a gap year then enroll in school in jersey once she found one that was right for her.

it was obvious to everyone that their close friendship bordered on a real relationship but nobody could be bothered to bring it up. especially not when they saw how much they both cared about the friendship and would do nothing to jeopardize it.

jack's rookie season in the nhl was not as great as he expected it to be. he lost more games than he could count and felt like he wasn't living up to his full potential. but he was reminded every night when he came home that no matter how bad he played, he would always have his favorite girl cheering him on.

and given how close they were, most people had a feeling that something or someone would come along and cause a rift in their friendship. and when jack got his first girlfriend since going pro, they were all proven wrong. turns out that the girlfriend didn't like how close he and y/n had been and she gave him an ultimatum. of course he chose y/n, leading people to believe that there was definitely something going on between the pair.

and no matter how many times people put that idea out there, they always shut the thought down and insisted they were always going to be just friends.

but those closest to them knew that was most certainly not true.

everything they did was something an average couple would do. they could deny it all they wanted but it was clear they were destined to be together.

----------

"hey, y/n. are you coming to the game tonight?"

"do you want me to come?"

"always." jack smiled, but immediately became concerned when she didn't smile back. "of course i want you there. do you think i don't?"

"i was just messing with you, jack. of course i'll be there."

"okay good." he kissed the top of her head and smiled. "you almost gave me a heart attack. i can't play without you there."

"no need to worry, darling. i've never intentionally missed a game since the second half of your rookie season and i'm not going to start now."

"i know. i don't know why i thought you weren't coming tonight though."

"you'd miss me too much if i wasn't there." y/n smirked.

"you know me too well." jack chuckled and grabbed his gear. "i'm late for practice. but i'll for sure see you later tonight, right?"

"absolutely. wouldn't miss it." y/n walked with jack to the door. he looked at her bracelet and smiled.

"you're gonna need a whole new bracelet if we win tonight."

"you mean after you win tonight?" y/n smiled and moved the bracelet around. "who picks out the charm this time?"

"i believe it's jesper's turn again."

"oh, sweet. i love the charms he picks."

"what about mine?"

"i love them even more than jesper's. you know that."

"yeah, i know." jack smiled again and grabbed his keys. "alright. see you in a few hours."

"bye." y/n shut the door and examined her bracelet again. jack had bought it for her after he scored his first career goal and told her that every time his team won, he would buy her another charm because he considered her to be his personal good luck charm. after the 10th win, his teammates started taking turns picking out the charms, as they not only believed that y/n was jack's good luck charm, but theirs as well. they never lost when she attended a game so the belief stuck.

a few hours later, y/n grabbed her jack hughes jersey, put on her black jeans and slipped on her red converse. she threw her hair up in a messy bun and didn't bother with any makeup since she never really wore it much anyway.

before she got in the car, she sent a text to both jack and luke, wishing them good luck on the game. luke's reply was just a thumbs up while jack's reply was an entire paragraph. y/n left it open and drove to the arena. when she arrived, she put her phone in her purse, completely forgetting to respond to jack's text.

in the locker room, luke was finishing adjusting his skates when jack sat next to him.

"y/n left me on read, luke. do you think she's okay? what if something happened to her on the way here?"

"i'm sure she's fine. she's the most careful driver i know." he finished lacing the right skate and pulled the left one tighter. "have you tried calling?"

"no. we never call before games. it's a rule."

"you might have to break a rule every now and then."

"okay, fine." jack pulled his phone out and quickly dialed y/n's number. it went to voicemail and jack sighed. "right to voicemail, luke. this is not good."

"relax, jack. she probably just turned her phone to do not disturb so she could focus entirely on the game tonight."

"okay. maybe you're right." jack stood up. "thanks, bro."

"no problem." luke chuckled. "you gotta learn to never doubt me."

"yeah, yeah. whatever." jack rolled his eyes and grabbed his stick. "we got a game to win."

as the boys came out onto the ice, y/n's gaze immediately landed on jack. he looked at her and smiled, thankful that nothing happened to her on the way to the game. he skated around and that's when the thought hit him.

she didn't respond to his pre-game text like she normally did.

the game went on like it normally would, but with jack distracted, he wasn't playing his best. y/n watched as jack took a hit at the end of 1st period. it never should've happened and she was beginning to worry.

she pulled out her phone and went to send him a text, knowing he was gonna check his phone during the break. and that's when she realized she never replied to the paragraph he sent before the game. she felt guilty, as if she was the reason jack was having a bad game.

she typed as fast as her fingers could go, rattling off an extra long apology text, hoping it would make up for earlier.

and when jack was back out on the ice for the second period, he seemed to be playing a lot better than before. the text seemed to have worked.

halfway through the last period, the devils were up by 2. as jack scored, he turned to look at y/n. when he saw her, he smiled.

he was distracted and the other team knew it. so they took this opportunity to slam him in the boards as hard as possible, taking jack out for the last 10 minutes of the game.

as the ref escorted jack off the ice, y/n hurried out of her seat and down to the tunnel. she rushed to the medic's office and watched as he did his routine checkup on jack. when he was finished, he turned to y/n.

"take good care of this one. he's showing signs of a possible concussion and he may be out for a game or two. we have to make sure he'll be okay."

"don't worry. i'll make sure he's fine." y/n smiled as the medic walked out of the room.

"that was a terrible game." jack shook his head slowly. "i screwed up."

"no you didn't, jack. you played great." y/n squeezed his shoulder softly and smiled.

"you and i both know i didn't. i was a mess in the first half of the game and-"

"i know. it was my fault. i should've answered your text."

"what? no. that's not why i wasn't focused. okay well maybe a bit. but i wasn't mad. i was scared. the last text i got from you before the game was that you were on your way here. and when you didn't reply to my text, i thought something bad happened to you. i wouldn't know what to do without you."

"don't worry. i'm right here."

"good." jack looked up at her and smiled. neither of them knew why they began to lean in but when their lips were about to touch, luke walked into the room, causing them both to jump apart. luckily luke didn't see anything.

"hey. we won the game but i wanted to come see you. how are you doing?"

"i'm alright. might have a concussion and may have to sit out for a game or two. but i'm fine."

"do you need me to stay tonight and keep an eye on you?"

"no thanks, luke. i appreciate the offer but y/n is gonna be there. she lives with me, remember?"

"right. are you sure there's not another reason she's living with you? like, say, maybe you guys are more than friends?" luke raised his eyebrow.

"oh yeah. i sleep with jack every night and he's sooo good. and oh my god. the size is just-" y/n smirked when luke interrupted her.

"i was kidding. i really didn't need to know any details. gross." he shook his head and left the room. jack couldn't help ut laugh at his brothers reaction.

"you know he's gonna tell the rest of the team, right?"

"let them believe what they want. only we know the truth." she winked at him and grabbed his stuff. "now let's get going. i hear my bed calling me."

"you're so dramatic." he chuckled and followed his best friend out to her car. "it's a good thing i got a ride here with luke this morning."

"yes it is. now you can be my little passenger princess this time, instead of the other way around."

"ha. ha. very funny."

"i know i am." y/n smiled and started driving back to their apartment. "how's the head feeling?"

"little rough. but i'll be fine, i promise. you don't need to worry." jack reached over the center console and squeezed her leg gently.

"i always worry about you." y/n kept her eyes on the road but when jack moved his hand, she felt like her leg was on fire.

"i know. and i appreciate it. a lot." jack smiled and got out of the car when she parked. he hurried over to her door and opened it for her.

"thanks, jack. but i could've done that on my own."

"i'm showing my appreciation."

"jack, there are other ways to show your appreciation." y/n smiled and walked to their door. jack was frozen in his spot as he watched her walk inside. before the door shut, he rushed in behind her.

"hold up. just wait a second." he sat down on the couch and looked at y/n. "what other ways can i show my appreciation?"

"by getting me a new charm for my bracelet since your team won." y/n smirked. "did you think i meant something else?"

"what? no. of course not." jack shook his head rapidly, causing y/n to continue smirking.

"oh my gosh. you totally did!"

"well, i kinda thought that we could talk about what almost happened back in the medic's office before luke walked in."

"jack, it was a slip up. heat of the moment situation. it never should've happened."

"it didn't happen. but i agree. heat of the moment." jack sighed and looked at her. "you're my best friend and i love you. but what didn't happen is not going to change us, right?"

"of course not." y/n smiled and headed to her room. jack watched her close the door and let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

it was going to change everything.

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

over the course of the next few weeks, the dynamic between y/n and jack had shifted. everyone noticed immediately but it took jack and y/n a little longer to catch on.

it wasn't drastic enough where y/n felt like she had to move out. but she no longer felt like jack wanted to spend every minute with her like he normally had in the past.

his attitude changed and he slowly became less of the happy guy he always was, and more of a moody one instead. he was getting into fights more often than not & he was bringing girls home with him almost every night.

he would ignore y/n when she would greet him and each time he did, y/n felt like he was chipping away a piece of her heart. it was starting to become an issue for her and she didn't know what to do.

until an 'angel' knocked on the apartment door one afternoon.

y/n was home alone, getting ready for the last regular season game, when she heard the knock. she got up and looked through the peephole.

"nico? what are you doing here? shouldn't you be at the arena practicing for the big game?"

"i should be. but i think we need to talk."

"what about?" she held the door and looked at her friend. "what's going on? is everything okay?"

"with me? yeah. with jack? no."

"what do you mean?"

"you've noticed the changes recently, yes?"

"of course. i notice a lot." she shook her head. "what about his changes?"

"it's messing with his playing."

"meaning?"

"he used to be the best player on the team but for the last 4 weeks, he's been different. his points haven't gone up and his skill level has declined. he still ranks fairly high in the league but it's nowhere near where he deserves to be." he sighed. "i need to know what happened between you guys."

"why do you assume something happened?"

"because i know you guys better than you think i do. and the dynamic between you has shifted since he got the concussion a month ago. so what happened? did jack say something to upset you, or vice versa?"

"no. at least, i don't think so. and to be honest, i have no idea what really happened. the night he got the concussion, we came home and things were fine. but when i woke up the next morning, it was like the jack hughes i know and love was replaced by someone else."

"so jack is the only one to know why he's been acting so weird?"

"i guess so." y/n looked at her phone. "you should get going. the team's gonna need their captain before the game."

"yeah, you're right." he went to walk away but stopped. "are you coming to the game?"

"yeah. i'll be there. there's just something i need to do first. see you later." she shut the door slowly and walked into jack's room. it looked pretty much like it always did. it was a little bit messier than normal but that's how jack tended to keep it.

as she was about to walk out, she saw a gift on the floor by his bed. there was a tag attached to it that had her name printed neatly on it in jack's handwriting. she picked it up and took it with her to the car. she needed an explanation and was determined to get one, even if jack didn't want to give it to her.

when she parked at the arena, she climbed out of her car and ran inside quickly. there was still a little while before the game started but the fans were already filing into their seats. the team was skating around the ice doing their warm ups but jack was nowhere to be found. and neither was nico.

y/n was about to send nico a text, telling him she had arrived, but when she looked up, jack and nico were skating onto the ice. nico waved when he noticed her but jack hadn't seen her yet so she would have to wait to talk to him.

the first half of the game was brutal for the devils. they were down by 3 at the end of the second period, not having scored a single goal yet, and they were looking at a complete shutout,

y/n watched the team skate off the ice and sent a text to nico, letting him know she was on her way down to the locker rom to talk to jack. she couldn't wait another second.

as she got to the room, the rest of the team was walking out slowly. nico was last and he stopped her.

"um, just a heads up but he's not in a great mood and he's blaming himself for what's happened so far in the game. hopefully you can work your magic on him like you always do."

"yeah, hopefully. good luck out there." she smiled and stood in the doorway to the locker room. jack was pacing back and forth with his head down so he didn't notice her and he was mumbling to himself. she knocked lightly on the door to get his attention. "jack?"

"huh?" his head shot up and they made eye contact. "w-what are you doing here?"

"i came to see my best friend play kick some ass and make it to the playoffs tonight."

"that's not gonna happen so you can go home if you want. i don't want to disappoint you when we lose."

"you're not going to lose, jack." she took a step into the room and the air felt thick.

"we haven't scored once this game and there's 20 minutes left. i highly doubt we're coming back from this." he shook his head. "and it's all my fault."

"no it's not. it's a team game, jack. it doesn't depend on just one person. you know that."

"if i hadn't played so badly this last month, we'd already be guaranteed a playoff spot. but this game is the make or break one."

"what's gotten into you? where's the best friend who is always full of spirit and determination? the one who never wants to give up, no matter how hard a task may be?"

"he's a total mess who can't get his shit together. he's lost hope for a lot of things in his life and he doesn't know how to get back to his normal self again."

"when did things change?" y/n took a seat beside him on the bench. "was it before or after the concussion?"

"the same night." he sighed. "i felt the change after we got home."

"was it something i did that maybe upset you?" y/n looked at him but he didn't answer. "jack, please talk to me. i want to help you in anyway that i can."

"do you really think that our almost kiss was just a slip up? a heat of the moment thing?"

"what?"

"just tell me the truth, please?"

"i've known you since the 6th grade and not once did i ever think about kissing you. you've been my best friend since i met you so yeah. it was a heat of the moment thing." y/n looked up to find jack staring at her.

"i feel the same way. or at least i thought i did." he sighed. "i had never thought about kissing you before and have had no romantic feelings towards you since we became friends. but that night, when you didn't answer my pre-game text, i was scared something happened to you. and you already know that. but as i was freaking out, i started thinking about why i was reacting that way. i realized that i never wanted to experience life without you. and then when i saw you and saw that you were alright, my heart nearly exploded with happiness. i thought i lost you but you were there, in front of me, and these brand new feelings became overwhelming for me." jack took another breath. "that night when you told me it was a slip up, it hit me that you didn't feel the same way about me. so i started giving you space because it felt like what was best and i realize now that it was a mistake to do that. because without you by my side, i fell apart real fast. i screwed up by almost kissing you and if it was possible, i would turn back time and stop myself. i never intended for things to end up this way. and i am so sorry i disappointed you."

"you could never disappoint me, jack. you're my favorite person in the entire world. and yes, i thought it was a slip up that night because i had never thought about kissing you before. but when you were giving me that 'space', it gave me time to think about what almost happened and i have come to the realization that it wasn't a heat of the moment situation. i realized that i can't live my life without you. truthfully, i love you jack. i never really thought about it before but now i know."

"so all that space was a dumb idea, huh?"

"of course, dummy. but maybe things can be different now. we can get back to how things were before the concussion." y/n took his hand. "but with an added bonus of love."

"that sounds like a good idea." he went to kiss her but she stopped him.

"wait. i almost forgot the main reason i cam back here."

"what's that?"

"i found this in your room." she pulled the gift out from her purse and handed it to him. he turned it around in his hands and smiled. "what is it?"

"as ridiculous as this might sound, it's a book." he let out a chuckle.

"a book?"

"yeah. but not just any book." he smiled. "this book is special and i was intending to give it to you for your birthday but i didn't know if things would be back to normal or not." he looked up at her. "go ahead. open it."

y/n carefully unwrapped the book and stared at the cover. a little cartoon version of herself with jack stared up at her with the title my best friend written in shiny silver letters. she flipped through the book and smiled with every page she read. it was a story book of her life, before and after she met jack. it was illustrated so perfectly and each hidden detail throughout the book made her eyes water. "jack , i love this so much."

"i figured you would. but i'm glad you do." he looked at her. "did you see what was taped to the back cover?"

"no." she flipped to the back cover and taped to the inside was a little swan charm. y/n carefully pulled it off and smiled. "seriously, jack. you didn't have to do this."

"well i wanted to. i needed to show you how much you mean to me but with everything you've ever done for me, the book and the charm are not going to be enough."

"jack, they're more than enough. they're perfect." she looked at him. "you're perfect."

neither of them hesitated to place their lips together. they fit perfectly together, just like everyone knew they would. jack held y/n's face as he deepened the kiss. her hands held his wrists as they slowly pulled apart.

"okay, my team is waiting for me. i've got a game to win." he stood up quickly. "i love you."

"i love you too. now go out there before they start to worry." y/n laughed as jack rushed out to the ice. she slid the book back in her purse and made her way back to her seat just in time for the final period to start.

30 seconds in, jack scored a goal and the fans went nuts. his teammates all hugged him and nico looked up to where y/n was sitting, knowing she really did work her magic on him.

there was 5 minutes left in the game when nico passed the puck to jack, who scored another goal, putting the game at 3-2 for nashville.

with 2 minutes left, it was looking like they were going to lose. but luck must've been on their side because curtis somehow got the puck to jack. he took it and sped down to the other end of the rink, shooting it right into the net to tie the game.

and when the buzzer went off to signal the end of the game, everyone on the team was excited. they were congratulating jack as they made their way to the bench.

"whatever you're doing, keep it up. that was an excellent third period." curtis high-fived him and walked down the tunnel. both jack and nico shared a look and their eyes went to y/n in the stands. she waved to them and they smiled.

"she must've worked her magic real hard on you to get such a turn around like that."

"yeah. something like that." jack smirked and took a drink from his water bottle before spraying some down the back and front of his jersey. he knew he was a great player but even he was impressed with how fast he shifted the game.

overtime started not long after their conversation and even though nashville was playing hard, new jersey was playing harder. their team dynamic was so much stronger than it was before.

with the clock ticking down and jack with the puck, the win was in sight. but the nashville players were not letting it go that easily. all the players on the ice chased jack and nearly cornered him. one slammed him into the side, causing him to lose his balance and fall. they all looked for the puck, believing that he would've given up the possession when he hit the ice.

but he did that before he went down. he passed the puck to jesper, who was not being defended. luckily nobody saw that pass. jesper took off back towards the nashville net and hit the puck as hard as he could, sending it flying towards the goal.

everyone watched with baited breath as the puck moved faster and faster towards the net. when it hit the back and the buzzer went off, everyone cheered. the devils were going to the playoffs.

y/n made her way down to the tunnel to wait for the team. nico had a feeling that's what she would be doing so he made sure jack was at the end of the line.

as they passed by, y/n congratulated the guys on the big win and continued to wait for jack. when she saw him, she couldn't help but throw herself into his arms. he was shocked but he held her tightly.

"that was incredible, jack. i told you you were going to win."

"i couldn't have done it without you and our talk."

"well, you could've. but i'm gonna take the credit where i can get it." she smiled. "go get changed so we can go home and celebrate."

"yes ma'am."

things were going to be okay. they were gonna make sure of it.

[harrystylesfan2686]

Confession

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warning: nothing much just kissing

A/N: I'm going to start writing and post regularly again.

Masterlist

○●○●○●○

"I love you."

The words leave my mouth before I realise it. I can see him get tense, pausing his writing. Tears well up in my eye as the realisation slowly sinks in of what I've done. I've let out my deepest secret, the one I've kept for so long, not telling anyone else, knowing that nothing good can come out of it. I focus on the wall behind him, trying not to break down right here.

Come on, telling him I love him and then crying to him bout how he doesn't feel the same. That's just embarrassing.

I feel him stare at me as Azriel slowing gets up from his chair and walks up to me. Still not ready to face him, my eyes fall shut as he stands in front of me.

I want to say something! Say sorry or that it was just a prank but my mouth doesn't open and my fingers curl not a fist in anger at myself. He let's out a sigh and I brace myself for the rejection that's surely to come. The sofa dips a little as he sits in front of me.

Gentle finger tips graze my cheek and I gasp in surprise. "Open your eyes." The request clear in his deep voice. I carefully do, and then my eyes widen in surprise.

His face is so close to me.

Our noses almost touching. Our lips mere inches apart. The color of his irises is so radiant, with the sunlight hitting the waves in them so perfectly. A deep blush spreads across my face as my skin heats up. He too can surely feel it with his hand cupping cheek like so.

"Say it again."

"What?" I say, baffled.

"Say that you love me, again." There a flash of desperation in his eyes and it leaves my mind in a scramble. His eyes look at me, silently begging, and there nothing I wouldn't do in this world for him. No matter how much it hurts me, I would do whatever he told me to in a heart beat.

"I love you."

And his lips are on mine.

Softly at first and I gasp at the seer need I feel from him. He moves his mouth to mine with pure wildness, as if he's been wanting this for a long time. Our noses touch and he angles my head to kiss me deeper. My eyes fall shut and a tear runs down my cheek. I'm not sad, I'm surprised and happy and scared and god knows what else.

His tongue moves in my mouth and a low moan escapes my throat. I feel his lips curl up into a smirk and he pulls back a little. I whimper at the loss of him and chase after his lips to pull him into another, wilder kiss.

Our lips move in a rhythm, both of us desperately feel every part of each other's mouth. We kiss as if we were lost in a desert without any means of survival, and have finally found water. We kiss as if the world is going to end and there will be no tomorrow. We kiss as if this will be the last time we do so.

I don't know how long it has been when we finally pull back. Bruised lips and desire clear as a day in our eyes. We are still so close, I could easily kiss him again if I wasn't breathing so hard.

His kiss emptied me of my thoughts and air.

His eyes scan my face once more, red lips streching into a grin. He watches me for a second longer and then leans forward to gently kiss my cheek and pulls back.

"If it wasn't obvious, I love you too."

And I smile too, genuinely feeling the happiest I've ever felt.

[buddhistmusings]

Why do you care so much?

I've been asked this question a few times in the past year - why I spend so much time thinking, reading, and reflecting on antisemitism, especially because I am not Jewish myself. There are a few reasons, really. One of them is that I think antisemitism is a hatred that spawns other hatreds, but even if it did not, it would still be worth studying, because the fact that it is a hatred at all is enough. The fact that antisemitism impacts Jewish people is enough of a reason to oppose it.

It's also because it's important to oppose because of the way it damages the thinking habits of people who believe it. I saw somebody say, "Jew-Hate makes you dumb," once. And though I think it was probably an off the cuff statement for them, it stuck with me, and I think they're right. In my religion, we say hatred is one of the three poisons - it can seriously harm your mental well-being in a way that deepens your suffering in all aspects of life. Often, hatred can also be spread like a contagion. It's something that destroys social harmony and causes severe social dysfunction. And right now, I think antisemitism is the most contagious of hatreds - I've seen people in my life fall off the cliff, I've been able to talk some back from it, and I've seen how so many people wander towards it without any idea that that's what they're doing.

Part of the problem is that antisemites consider themselves righteous in a way I think most racists don't. Often, you'll see "I'm not racist but" I almost never see that with antisemitism. They don't add that qualifier. They just say it. Most racists I know will make a tacit acknowledgment of the racist implications of what they're about to say - antisemitic people don't. They often even engage in anti-Jewish racism while invoking anti-racism.

I don't really know any Jewish people in real life, perhaps only two. But I don't need to know them to know that hating them is wrong. I think I also have a debt of gratitude to many people in the Jewish community because of the advances in Buddhist Studies made by Jewish people, which sounds strange - but it's true that many leading voices and researchers, both in academia and within Buddhism itself happen to be Jewish. I'm not sure why this is, but it's absolutely true. The most prolific translator of Pali into English that I can think of is Jewish. The most impactful Vipassana instructor in America I can think of is Jewish. The most impactful voice in Deity Yoga, for Tibetan Buddhism, is Jewish. People who are Jewish, for some reason, contributed probably more than ex-Christian Americans or atheists combined to the proliferation of Buddhism in the United States.

Buddhists and Jewish people are known to have a close relationship. There are a lot of different reasons for this that I would suggest, but none that add up to explain the amazing contributions to Buddhism made by American Jews.

I think another reason I have for being so interested in antisemitism as a non-Jew is the kind of... political disillusionment I've been experiencing? It's been a disturbing few years, and I haven't seen many people elaborate very well on this feeling of abandonment and horror, witnessing people who you thought shared your values become hateful and deeply violent in their beliefs. The only people I've seen consistently speak about it happen to be Jewish.

I think all of this has helped contribute to a feeling of closeness to Jewish people as a group, despite that I don't really know Jewish people in my real life, and only have one or two Jewish friends online. This year has been a horror show of watching people's minds become twisted - it's so scary in a way I can't quite capture with words right now.

I also sometimes have a back and forth with myself about when and if to mention I'm not Jewish when I talk about antisemitism, because I do think it's totally necessary to explain the perspective from which I speak, but to be honest it feels kind of icky to be like "I'm not Jewish, but antisemitism is bad", because antisemitism is bad whether or not the person saying so isn't Jewish, and I think it might be a negative for people to think "not being Jewish" is something which makes it any less valuable to be against antisemitism, and talk about how against it you are. It's very real that people who talk about antisemitism are perceived to be Jewish, and obviously, it's important not to lead people into thinking you're Jewish when you're not, but adding an "I'm not Jewish" qualifier to statements about antisemitism I worry might contribute to the perception that those against antisemitism are Jewish.

Antisemitism is such an insidious ideology. And it's everywhere. I see it daily in so many different spaces. It has the largest impact on Jewish people, but it also impacts non-Jewish people at times. I distinctly remember being mocked throughout school for "looking Jewish." I think about that Greek restaurant which was attacked because they were thought to be Jewish. Or that man in the Amsterdam violence who tried to help and was then accused of being Jewish himself. It's so deluded, violent, and manages to consume people's thoughts like a parasitic worm in their brain.

Anyways, I planned for this post to be more organized. Oops.

[yan-randomfandom]

Hii! Could I request a yan! Jinx with a darling who is on hunger strike? (Bacically, darling got kidnapped and so she decided to stop eating till she gets freed...is that even a word?)

Anyways, ty 4 reading my request and I would be really happy if you were to fuffil it <3

Make sure u drink enough water!

Yandere!Jinx x GN!Starving!Reader

a/n: thank you for your kind words anon! 😺 i just realized how much energy i gave mc here omg 😭🙏

tw; starvation, kidnapped MC ermm

💧 ;

Stubbornness is something both you and Jinx share. It's built into your very core. She knows this, and yet, here we are.

You're tied to a chair, looking away from her with a deep frown on your face—unwilling to eat.

"My sweetest," Jinx groans, dragging out her words. "Darling, baby, angel..." She places her hands on the back of your chair, her breath brushing the tip of your nose—"beloved."

...

You roll your eyes. "It stinks."

With an offended gasp, she recoils from you, her eye twitching. "I— You— Come on! At least I had dinner, but you? You haven't eaten anything for days!"

As if the Gods have a sense of humor, your stomach lets out a loud, drawn-out rumble. It goes on for a few moments... like her hideout wasn't quiet enough already. You have half the heart to glance at Jinx, who's watching you with an unimpressed expression.

Against your better judgment, and despite the deadly stomachache, you don't say anything.

Jinx pushes the bowl of food in front of you. "...Your, uh, stomach's hungry. Please. I just want you to eat—"

"I want you to let me go," you snap, glaring at her. You emphasize your point by rattling the chair with your frail limbs in frustration. "It doesn't help that you tied my arms and legs up. Honestly."

She returns your look, almost clueless. "It didn't have to be that way! You kept trying to escape!"

"I wonder why!!"

An annoyed groan. You can't even tell if it was from you, or her. Maybe both.

...

...

"...I told you I can't," she mutters softly. Not when she started a war.

You scoff and turn away. "Not that you can't. You won't."

Jinx does not reply.

Then, she chuckles. "Still amazin'. All this energy, even in starvation."

...

You press your lips together. Truth be told, you're barely holding it together. You're simply not giving up. Even if it's out of spite. Especially.

She starts walking. The sound of her booted footsteps grows fainter and fainter until, finally—the exit closes.

Jinx left you.

Nothing else accompanies you but the quiet humming and faint lights in her hideout.

Your body seizes the chance to collapse, eyes closing in one blink.

...

The next time you wake up, you grudgingly rub your eyes. A yawn escapes you.

You stretch your body. Your joints pop, relief spreading all across—

Wait.

You sit up from the softest surface you've ever been on in a while. It takes a moment to clear your vision, but once it does, you fall in disbelief.

Lifting your hand, you eye your wrists suspiciously. The patterns of the rope is still visible. But faint. It must have been a while since they were removed.

The chair you've been stuck in for days is gone. Your limbs are untied, finally fucking free from the numbness. A small fan offers a refreshing breeze next to you.

Your heart starts racing.

A whiff of your favorite scent. You perk up.

There's a glass of water filled with ice on the table. Beside it, an irresistible array of food. All your favorite types.

You don't even think twice.

either u try to escape or eat the food—your choice. do both tho cuz u might idk die

[loudclan-clangen]

Cut for Time - Moon 31

Hey guys! New things! Sometimes when we have long moons, there are scenes that I want to show you guys but I just don't have room to do so. With the suggestion of @snailstep-and-her-clan and the help of the loudclan discord I was able to bring some of these scenes to life in written and illustrated form! Enjoy, and go follow the talented artists if you don't already!

art by @mammoth-clangen

“I’m sorry.” Peakpatch tries to look down at his paws shamefully, but Jaggedtail places a paw under his chin, gently urging Peakpatch to look him in the eye.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“But it’s stupid-” tears prick at Peakpatch’s eyes.

“It’s not stupid. Don’t be sorry.” Jaggedtail’s voice is solid and comforting, Peakpatch fights the urge to melt into it. It feels wrong to seek comfort in his friend after rejecting him. It feels selfish.

“It is stupid. I like you, you like me, we should be mates! I just… I'm not ready…” Peakpatch’s tears begin to drip, and he doesn't have the will to fight it when Jaggedtail pulls him into his chest. 

“I understand, Peakpatch. You don’t have to explain it. It’s okay. I’m here as your friend for as long as you need me to be. And when you’re ready to become mates- if you’re ever ready, I’ll be here then too. I’m not going anywhere. I already promised you that.” Peakpatch let out a shaky breath. He couldn't imagine a life without Jaggedtail. If keeping him at paw's length is what Peakpatch needed to do to keep him alive, then he would be happy to. He could find a way to be happy to.

art by @lurking-in-windclan-camp

Hushed voices echo out of the healer's den, but with the majority of the clan at a gathering there's no one to notice two mischievous apprentices hidden in the shadows of the cave.

“Ah! Shoot!” Dancepaw recoils from one of the piles of herbs, cradling an injured paw, “This one stings!”

Erminepaw peeks over at Dancepaw’s pile. “Hm, that must be nettle, then,” He pauses for a moment, before reaching over and gingerly sweeping it into another pile “Songpaw said that fireweed cures stings, so we’ll put those together. Oo, and the stinkweed too, since they’re both ‘weeds’!”

"What about the berries? They all look the same, so how are we supposed to tell the difference? Taste?" Dancepaw hooks a berry with his claw, raising it to his mouth before a sharp smack from Ermine sends it flying into the dark recesses of the cave.

"No! You never eat a berry that you don't know the name of! Don't you pay attention at all when Songpaw talks?" Ermine's scolding earns him an offended glare.

"Well if you know so much then you do it!" Dancepaw sulks around to the other side of the ledge, shouldering Erminepaw over to the berries.

Erminepaw bristles at the shove, but after a deep breath he begins to hesitantly sort berries, too proud to admit that the task is a bit above his level as well. Besides, Erminepaw assures himself, he's watched his mother do this a thousand times, how hard could it be?

“Songpaw better be grateful that we’re helping him out like this.” Dancepaw grumbles.

“I’m sure he will be when he finds out!” Erminepaw pointedly chirps back, trying to push the creeping feeling of unease back down his spine. If he makes a mistake the healers will fix it. What's the worst that could happen?

Art by @featherfrond

“Hey! Wait up!” Rosehiptree trots up to Kingfur as he slips past the jagged rocks that mark the camp entrance, their pelts brushing as she squeezes through the narrow gap alongside him.

“Everything alright?” Kingfur questions, on edge at the unusual attention. Rosehiptree was his sister, Sockeyepelt's, friend, it wasn't often that she paid him any mind. Perhaps his prank had inspired the pair of them, the thought sent a shiver down Kingfur's spine. His sister didn't exactly know where the line was when it came to practical jokes. He swore that he still had thorns lodged under his skin from the time she decided he needed to go swimming in a pit of devil's club. It was in his best interest to deflect for now. “Sockeyepelt is sunning back in the camp if you were looking for her.”

“I know that. I’m not looking for her.” Great, Kingfur thought to himself, watching Rosehiptree glance around at their surroundings. Had Sockeyepelt slipped out of camp ahead of them when he wasn't paying attention?

Satisfied with her sweep of the area, Rosehiptree turned her attention back to Kingfur, a wide grin slowly taking hold as ice blue eyes sparkled with delight, “I’m looking for the genius who got Juneaucliff to walk around camp puffed up like a ptarmagin with all that junk smeared on his stupid face!”

Kingfur felt pride well in his chest, but quelled it, not about to let himself fall for such blatant flattery. "You didn't seem to find it all that genius from where I was standing. I didn't think you even payed enough attention to notice."

Rosehiptree rolled her eyes, playfully bumping shoulders with the tom. "That's just cause that's what I wanted you to think. I'm not blind!" Their gazes lock for a moment, before Kingfur glances away, his will power crumbling by the second. Had her eyes alway been that blue? Was that some kind of trick to make him let down his guard? Is there some kind of herb that makes your eyes bluer?

Kingfur takes an instinctive step away from the she-cat, and she hesitates, her gaze dropping as she continues dejectedly, "Juneau's a good guy, don't get me wrong, I'm sure he'd make a great mate, but we're just not on the same page, you know? He deserves someone who's gonna make him happy, and that's not me. It's never gonna be me. But, when I say 'never' he just hears 'not now'." Her eyes flick nervously between her paws as her voice trails off.

This isn't a prank. The realisation washes over him all to late, as Kingfur searches for something to say to her, but caught off guard he comes up empty. Rosehiptree clears her throat and flicks her tail, raising her head once again, and summoning a polite smile. "Well I just wanted to uh, say thanks for getting him off my back for a while." She steps to the side, turning back to camp, and Kingfur's stomach twists.

"Hey, uh-" Having her attention turned back to him once again made some childish part of Kingfur wish he had just let her walk away. But he steeled himself, plastering a confident grin on his face to make up for the fact that his stomach seemed to be trying to climb up out of his throat. "I'm glad I could help, and..." Kingfur's brain was working overtime to find something witty. He wanted to make her laugh again. "I'm glad that you were entertained. That'll make it worth it when he slits my throat in my sleep later tonight."

Rosehiptree grinned again, circling back to his side. "Well at least you'll have died for a worthy cause." Kingfur was going to die right here if she kept smiling at him like that. Would that count as a worthy cause? The tip of his tail flicked rapidly as she approached.

Bolstered by his reciprocated playfulness, Rosehiptree stepped in front of him, brushing the length of her body across his chest, "Of course, if you needed some protection I could always sleep in your nest tonight." Her tail flicked under his chin as she started back to camp once again.

Every fur on Kingfur's pelt stood on end. If he had any brain function at this moment he might worry over his resemblance to a porcupine, but even if he had the mind to do something about it, he couldn't have, as despite feeling like his blood was being heated over a flame, his muscles suddenly seemed to be made of unmovable stone. Perhaps this was a prank, intending to leave him frozen in the middle of this trail for a returning patrol to discover.

"Catch me something while you're out. A puffed up ptarmagin prefferably!" Rosehiptree called to him over her shoulder.

“Y-yeah.” Kingfur stuttered, praying to starclan that his lungs would remember how to work before he passed out. Or at least that he wouldn't topple over before Rosehiptree was out of sight. Mediator heirs weren't supposed to do that, but Kingfur figured that starclan would understand the extenuating circumstances and take pity on him.

That's all for today folks! If you enjoy this I'll do it more! It's a great way for all you background character loving freaks (affectionate) to get some more time with your poor forgotten gays. And it also lets me expand on some ideas that are hard to fit into the comic, like Rosehiptree's complicated feelings about Juneau, which is really fun for me! She's just a heart throb idk what to say. Every man of appropriate age is falling for her. (Except Cave he's too busy being poisoned)

[chocoqtelle]

inner child pac reading

🦀 pile one,,

I know we're used to being super helpful, but it's good to help yourself too. you should always make sure you're okay first. It's important for us to be okay, even if other people don't think so. we should think so. things are gonna be okay for us. they always are. I want to do the things we like. I don't understand why you care about what people think now. I think we should try doing what we like more, even if it's embarrassing. it doesn't have to take a lot of time. it's just good to have fun sometimes. maybe you can get back into some of our old interests if you want?

it seems like this pile had to mature quickly and was overly generous in childhood. this likely led to some people pleaser habits. when the world said "be nice" and "care about others" you took it to heart, but it felt like you were the only one who did. you felt like you had to be the adult in your childhood and care for other people around you. for some of you, you may have had to care for a parental/older familiar figure or your siblings. you're used to changing your words and your personality to be more digestible and gentle because this strong fear of conflict. you were scared of people being mean to you, so you avoided making anyone mad. it was like you were always tiptoeing over eggshells. now, you don't have to, so there's no point in worrying about people who don't worry about you. you'd be doing yourself and your inner child a favor by doing what you want. it might feel wrong to be yourself, but at least try. I won't delve too much into this part, but I believe some people in this pile also dealt with being oversexualized or being hyper sexual at a young age. I think it's important to know you're more than what you can give others for this pile. please also take a break for the love of god.

🐸 pile two,,

It's hard to feel loved if nobody shows you. at the same time, i don't think I'd want to be loved. it seems weird and uncomfortable. I'm not used to it so it's scary. I still wish that someone would care at least. it feels like nobody else cares. I'm really tired of things being silent and boring all the time. I want to do something fun. I want friends but I want to be by myself. people think I'm weird, but I think they're the weird ones. they can avoid me but I wouldn't wanna be friends with them anyway. it doesn't matter if it's lonely, I don't feel less lonely around people anyway. some people think I'm mean. I don't think I'm mean. i heard I look mean or I act mean sometimes, but what if that's just who I am? I don't try to be mean to people. I just don't want people to hurt me.

holy neglect trauma... there's a lot to unpack here 😓 first off, I hope you're alright. it seems like this pile never really learned how to interact with people and is probably still a bit of a people hater. this pile has had to keep strong boundaries and walls on to protect themselves from unfamiliar experiences (being spoken to positively.) if you've never experienced something, it can be scary but you have to stop thinking every little thing is gonna go wrong in your life. it's fine. separate note but I think someone's ancestors are very present here, might want to connect with them if you don't already. you can try to shut down the feelings of loneliness and pretend connection won't help but it does. you're probably not connected with your inner child or you're ashamed of yourself for some reason. trying to be cold won't undo anything or save you from the feelings you're hiding. you'll have to acknowledge them at some point. escapism and forcing ignorance wont help forever. hopefully it'll be sooner than later, but that's your choice. it's okay to be soft, btw.

🐕 pile three,,

I know what I'm talking about. I'm serious. I wish people would take me more seriously. i get good grades, I study hard, I always prove how smart I am. for some reason, people still act like I'm too young and stupid to have opinions or that what I say is just silly, especially with emotions. they act like having emotions makes you a less rational person. some people look down on me for who I am, too. it's not something I can change. whether it's gender, age, or whatever, people always want an excuse to ignore how I feel or what I have to say. I know I'm right though. I don't want us to stop expressing ourselves. I wanna share how I feel to the world.

this pile is extremely opinionated and knows how to share their emotions. this pile is for the "bossy" kids who "should have been lawyers" or "a CEO" according to every adult around them. you were emotional as a child and it was always ignored or joked off as if your feelings were invalid. this pile is definitely natural-born leaders so if you aren't/never have been aspiration-driven or "extra" this pile probably isn't yours. the most healing thing you can do for yourself at this point is speak up. continue to speak about everything. share your opinion more, it's safe now and people will actually take you seriously. be emotional, be too much, be annoying, be talkative, be over-opinionated, be everything you feel like being and don't let anyone talk you out of it. lead your life how you want to. call everything out, even if it means being weird. I definitely feel like some people in this pile had the gifted kid experience or liked to read a lot when they were younger. there's also some unresolved anger that might need to be taken care of. I think speaking up more instead of bottling feelings up will definitely help that, though. you're not stupid or weak for being emotional. just be yourself unapologetically and that's the best thing you can do for your younger self.

[nathaslosthershit]

The Main Event (Multiple Pairings) Part 1

Can be read as a standalone but also (Part 8 in the Blind Items AU A/N: Its my nineteenth birthday 🥳 I wanted to write about adults being happy in different stages of their life because I am so scared of growing up and the thought of not being a teenager next year makes me nauseous. Enjoy! Each pairing has a Blind Items backstory which is linked at the start of their section (You don't have to read the backstory, though) Multiple (separate) Pairings: Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!reader, Oscar Piastri x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader, Lando Norris x reader, Lance Stroll x reader, Lewis Hamilton x reader, Alexander Albon x reader in the next part Summary: A wedding between Logan Sargeant and the youngest Leclerc child means a very interesting guest list, in which all previous victims of the F1 Blind Items account are included.

Oscar Piastri

“Dude, how come you are more nervous about my own wedding than I am?” Logan asked.

Oscar rolled his eyes and scoffed, pretending what the American was saying was ridiculous, as he nervously picked at his nails, trying to hide his trembling hands. Logan just laughed at his friend's failed attempt at nonchalance.

“It’s just- I’m nervous about the media inserting themselves in the events today. I mean I don’t want to have my toddlers in the spotlight any more than they already are.” Oscar explained. After being forced to reveal his kids to the world before he nor his fiancée were ready, and after just a few interviews and racing events the kids attended, Oscar didn’t want to give the media much more for the time being.

“Wow, way to make my wedding about you.” Logan teased, trying to relieve the utter look of anxiety and despair on Oscar’s face. But the Mclaren driver just shot him an unamused glare. “Look, I have told you time and time again if you don’t want them as flower girls- or kids, I’d gladly make my brother frolick down the aisle throwing petals. As much as I love my honorary niece and nephew, nothing would make me happier than making Dalton do that.”

This finally got a laugh out of Oscar. “They have been practicing too much to do that, we would be in for a shit storm if you tried to take away their time to shine.” It had been a big thing in the Piastri household for the past few months. Every second of every day, Frances and Hudson had been asking their parents questions about what weddings were like, how they should walk down the aisle, and if they had to see uncle Logan kiss his wife (they were not amused by the idea of having to see that). Not to mention the hundreds of times they forced their parents to watch how they would walk down the aisle, asking what they thought and ignoring any criticisms given to them (they saw no reason as to why they shouldn’t be allowed to dance and sing while throwing petals). 

“Then calm down. If all goes well there won’t be any media there, I mean I think we have done a pretty good job at making sure no one outside the event knows about it. Plus, no offense but there are plenty of people with far more interesting stories and scandals than your family. The tabloids are bored with y’all now that there isn’t anything new to expose.” Maybe a harsh way of putting it, but it was true, there were plenty of Formula 1 couples who had been exposed by the media for various reasons in attendance today. 

“Right. Got to say, Logan, the guestlist is impressive. I mean could you imagine telling your 13 year old self that the Lewis Hamilton would be attending your wedding?” Oscar asked. Even after a few years racing against the guy, the shock from being around him never wore off. He just had that ‘greatest of all time’ energy.

“I can’t even take the credit for much of it though. It's the bride who brought all the biggest names.” Logan rolled his eyes playfully. It was true though, his wife-to-be had made friends with all the biggest names in the world and they weren’t half assed friendships either. She could make even the tiniest of acquaintances feel like longtime companionships. She could make everyone feel so unbelievably loved and cherished in such a short time.

God he couldn’t wait to marry her. 

Oscar laughed at the lovesick grin on his friend’s face. Usually he’d tease him, but he decided maybe he should just cut the man some slack on his wedding day. 

But the urge was too great he couldn’t let Logan go unteased, before he could do so though-

“Dad! Dad! Dad! Look, me and Fran match!” Oscar’s son, Hudson, ran into the room, his sister following after him.

The two seemed to light up in their soft blue outfits.

“Don’t you two look awesome!” Logan said from behind the twins, making them turn around. “You guys look better than me on my own wedding day.”

The toddlers shouted in excitement as they ran to their favorite honorary uncle (much to Lando’s chagrin. He fought hard for that title).

“You two ready to be the stars of the show? Throwing petals ain’t easy work.” He said as he crouched down to hug the toddlers.

Oscar rolled his eyes. Leave it to Logan to make his own children completely uninterested in him. Fortunately, someone who was actually interested in him entered the room after them. His wonderful fiancée.

“You look gorgeous, honey.” Oscar said awestruck.

“You saw me in this earlier.” She deadpanned. 

“Let a man compliment his fincée, will you?” Holding her close to him, kissing her deeply. It was only when the two weren’t cut off with toddler “ewws” and “stop grossss” that they looked back at their children, currently in a… dance competition with the groom. “Glad to see how much they care for us.” Oscar sighed, feeling childish jealousy. 

“Let him entertain them, he’ll get some more practice for when he has his own kids.”

“He’s too young, honey. He is about to get married, he doesn't need to think about that right now.” Oscar scoffed, feeling offended for his children that Logan would ever dethrone his honorary niece and nephew from being his favorite kids.

“Says the man who had two kids by 18 and has been engaged twice, but not married, by 23.” Honey amused.

He blushed at the reminder that their relationship had been done a bit… backwards.

“They already have an officiant and audience, maybe we can just jump in with the bride and groom, two birds with one stone.”

“Nope! I already have two Piastri’s taking the spotlight today, I don’t need more.” Logan said while both twins climbed all over him.

Charles Leclerc (And the Leclerc Co.)

Normally, hard launching your child was not something a bride would encourage on her wedding day, but as the youngest Leclerc child, Charles’ sister loved the drama. Hence why her nephew was making his debut to the public as the ring bearer. Only a month old, the media hadn’t gotten to meet the cutie as he was born right at the start of winter break. It brought tears to his eyes, how insistent his baby sister was on having her nephew involved in her wedding. It was already an emotional day for Charles, who felt like he was losing his first baby as he walked her down the aisle and sent her off into her future, but he truly couldn’t be happier.

And doing it with his son by his side just made it all the more memorable. 

“Honey?” Charles’ girlfriend called as she popped her head into the room he was getting ready in. In her arms was their newborn who, while still so small, broke everyone’s heart at how big he was getting. “Oh, my love, are you seriously crying again?” she asked as he tried to inconspicuously wipe away his tears.

Being reminded that he had just been crying only made him start to cry more.

“Charlie, you are more emotional than I was while pregnant. What is going on with you today?”

“It is stupid, I’m sorry. It's just- it was yesterday my sister was in my arms, having just been born, and now she is getting married and the American is taking her away.”

If there was one thing the Leclerc brothers loved to do, it was make fun of their soon to be brother-in-law. They truly did love Logan, but it was so easy to pick on him and he was far too polite to try anything with them yet. If you asked them, they would say they are just treating him like the brother he is, but they also just really love how much it pissed their sister off, who will certainly be defending him. 

“Oh, sweetheart, she isn’t going anywhere. They are still going to live in Monaco, and you race with her husband almost every weekend. If anything now that they are married you will see more of her.” 

It was true. Even if the Leclerc brothers had a strict ban on dating drivers, they had to admit that their sister had found a good partner in Logan. A man who was driving alongside Charles, had been on the same team as Arthur in the past, and knew just how important and difficult the sport was on family. 

Giving her boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek after wiping his tears from his face, Charles’ partner went on to try and fix the mess of hair that her lover was currently fighting. 

The Leclerc’s had terrible bed heads, something that unfortunately had already been seen in the first grandson, even at just a month old his hair was thick and unmanageable. 

Fortunately, Charles had calmed down enough that he was no longer a complete mess when his brothers entered the room. If Charles knew anything about his brother’s (and his sister) it was that such tears would have led to him being teased for the rest of his life about it. 

“Have you seen her?” Charles asked Enzo, hoping for any indication on how their sister was doing, having been too busy setting up for the wedding and taking care of his son to check on the bride thoroughly.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “When we tried to see her, Maman wouldn’t let us in.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” Charles’ girlfriend asked, the same level of concern in her voice displayed accross Charles’ face. 

“No, no, the bride said she wanted to have a little moment with the four of us before the wedding, so she didn’t want us to see anything before.” Enzo explained. He had understood her sentiment, Arthur… not so much.

Letting out a breath at the confirmation that nothing was wrong, Charles sat quietly while he got his hair tamed, his brothers playing with their nephew in the back.

It was a sight that almost brought tears to Pascale’s eyes, but she had already cried so much and she knew she needed to save the rest of her tears for the ceremony. Her three boys, all in different stages of their lives, all dressed up and ready to support their baby sister on her big day. 

There was a sense of love and excitement in the air, reminding her of when her daughter had first been born, her older brothers hardly able to sit still while they waited in anticipation. Though everyone was calm now, having gotten most of their childish impatience out of their system, those feelings hadn’t changed. 

“Someone wants to see you all.” She spoke up, getting the attention of her boys. Charles’ girlfriend pressed a kiss to his cheek and took their son from his uncles, wanting to give the Leclerc siblings a moment alone. 

“My goodness, you look stunning.” She said to the bride as she walked through the doorway before leaving. This made all the brother’s perk up, losing the rest of their patience as they waited to see their baby sister.

The second she stepped into the room and tears welled up in everyone’s eyes, the Leclercs knew it was going to be a long day full of bittersweet melancholy, but also one so full of love.

Lando Norris

“Have I told you how wonderful you looked?” Lando asked, grabbing his girlfriend’s hand as he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

She rolled her eyes, “Only a thousand times since we got in the car. Not to mention when I was getting ready, when I was trying on dresses, or when I was simply speaking to you about what I was thinking of wearing.” She teased.

He knew it was overkill, but he also knew how stressed she was. Not about the wedding, she was excited to attend and celebrate, but of the fact she knew she’d finally be identified as Lando Norris’s “unremarkable” girlfriend the tabloids have talked about for a while. 

The media knew he was dating not a model, or heir to a fortune, or an influencer, but a “simple” teacher, one who had a private instagram account with hardly 100 people on it. They had seen what pictures Lando posted of her, maybe a few posted by friends, but they never showed her face. They didn’t even know her name.

Even though their words were harsh, even though it hurt they thought she was undeserving of him when they didn’t know her, the anonymity at least came with the sentiment that all their judgements came from one simple fact, that she was a teacher. Now, they would have more to criticize, more to know, and she hated the thought.

Despite the public not knowing about her though, she had still been able to become good friends with many of Lando’s. Had been present for many arguments between Logan and Lando as they defended their individual titles of being “the best honorary uncle” to the Piastri twins and had been there to help watch the toddlers so Oscar’s fiancée could get a bit of a break during races. 

She loved so many of the people there, and she knew they all had her back. Because of this, she felt more ready to face the music. She shouldn’t be ashamed of who she was, she loved everything about her life, and she wouldn’t be made to feel bad for loving Lando. 

In the end, it was what the two of them thought and felt about their relationship that mattered. 

Lando smiled as he watched her take a deep breath, ready for what was to come. He’d move heaven and the earth for her, and he for sure wasn’t going to let some idiots online ruin something so good.

Lance Stroll

“You must have the worst heartburn, huh?” A mutual friend of a friend, Marie, asked.

“Oh, well actually-”

“Ugh it was so bad! And the indigestion, that really sucked. Oh! Reminds me of this one awful stretch of time when I was pregnant. I was actually also at a wedding…” Marie started on a tangent about some pregnancy horror story. One the currently pregnant woman she was talking to, didn’t appreciate hearing at the moment.

Lance looked over at his wife, stuck in conversation looking pained. Fearing that something was wrong with her or the baby, he quickly made his way over with an excuse to whisk her away.

“Are you alright?” He asked once out of earshot of Marie. 

His wife opened her mouth to answer, but was unable to when a choked sound made its way out first. The sound attracted the eyes of several wedding guests, who upon seeing that she was pregnant, turned back to their conversations, finding that as the excuse for such an outburst. While she was embarrassed when all eyes turned to her, the lack of interest in her wellbeing after seeing her belly just made her start to sob even more.

Knowing his wife was in distress and clearly the crowded room was adding to the discomfort, Lance led her to an unoccupied hallway. 

“Come on, hun. How can I make this better?” Sweetness, with a bit of helplessness, in his tone.

“You-you can’t!” She cried. God, how was she ever supposed to explain what the hell was happening with her. Especially when each second, she felt differently.

Maybe that was the problem. 

 “I’m- I am so tired of being the pregnant lady.” She managed to get out.

Lance frowned at the confession. “I know, love. I can’t imagine what it's like to be pregnant, and I wish I could help. I know it sucks, but you can get through-”

“Stop! That's the problem. Every single issue I have is written off as something that just happens with pregnancy. Like they are just side effects that can’t be helped! Like I just need to deal with them alone because “I signed up for this”. Maybe it sounds stupid or childish but I don’t give a fuck anymore, Lance. I don’t want to be treated like some pregnant lady, I don't want to be treated as if every single emotion I have is just because of hormones or because all women are just expected to suffer through this! Marie just came up to me and started talking about her own horror stories from when she was pregnant! I don’t want to hear that, not when she isn’t giving actual advice, just trying to laugh about things I, as the currently pregnant person, don’t find funny! I don’t want to talk about how I am so hungry and have people laugh and say ‘oh that's just what happens’. I want to get food! I want to be able to be upset without people losing interest the second they realize it's just the pregnant lady crying. I want the things I'm going through to be taken seriously, Lance.”

A beat of silence as he took in her words. 

As the silence stretched on though, she found herself with an apology forming on the tip of her tongue, feeling bad for yelling at her husband during her tangent when, even if he had contributed to the problem, he didn’t really do anything wrong. 

Just as she opened her mouth though, he got on his phone. 

She started to not feel as bad as she watched her husband seemingly ignore all she said.

“Are you-” She began, just to be cut off by him putting his phone in his pocket, and kissing her deeply.

Most of her anger seemed to disappear at that moment. He hadn’t kissed her like that in what felt like forever. Since she had told him she had been pregnant, he had been unsure of how to go about doing… well, anything. 

After a few passionately blissful seconds, he pulled away, still holding her face between his hands and stroking her cheek with his thumbs. “I ordered a car to take us to a crappy fast food place.”

She stammered, “What do- why?”

“You said you are hungry, the ceremony hasn’t even begun yet, we are going to be here for a while before we can eat and while I’m sure the bride and groom have an amazing set up, there isn’t a point in making you suffer any longer when we can fix it.” he explained.

She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to agree, but she also wanted to support their friends and knew she probably shouldn’t skip out on their wedding day. But she really needed something to eat and her feet were killing her already- 

“No, Lance, we shouldn’t it- it would be rude.” She answered.

Lance laughed at her attempt at trying to convince both herself and him. “As much as I’d love to stay, I’d much rather watch you eat a disgusting amount of fast food in an impressively short amount of time all the while dressed to the nines. Plus, we both know the bride and groom would be understanding.” He said as he grabbed her purse and opened the door for her. “After you, my love.” 

She sighed, realizing he was right. 

“Oh how gentlemanly of you,” she teased in a posh accent. “Is it often you whisk away distressed damsels to fast food restaurants?” 

“Only the gorgeous ones. I did earn my nickname of Sir Lancelot from my wife for a reason.” He teased back.

“It seems you have.” She replied with a kiss on the cheek.

Lewis Hamilton

“Oh, sweet pea. You look stunning!” Lewis said as he facetimed his daughter, currently at home with her mom.

The young girl giggled at the compliment, asking her dad about the wedding. She had been more than curious about weddings lately after hearing that her dad was attending one. 

“-and the bride wears a beautiful white dress”

“Like the one mommy is wearing?” she asked her dad, pointing to the oversized t-shirt her mom was wearing with paint stains on it from when she and her partner had painted the nursery for the 1 year old currently asleep in said room. Lewis laughed at the image.

“While I am sure your mommy could wear that and still be the most beautiful girl in the world. A wedding dress is a little… different.” Lewis answered.

“Mommy! Can I see your wedding dress?” her daughter asked.

Both parents froze at the question, realizing they might have not told their child a pretty important detail about her parents. 

“Oh- honey. Daddy and I never got married.” She answered. Her daughter looked back at the phone, at her dad, confused.

“Dad? Why didn’t you marry mommy? Don’t you love her?” 

Harsh. Lewis didn’t know how to answer such a question, but he eventually found the words. 

“Sweetheart, you know I love your mom very much. You are all my most favorite girls. Some people just don’t get married, they don’t feel the need to.” He answered. It wasn’t that the two of them didn’t want to, they had planned on it. But their first daughter had been unplanned, then their second had been too, and eventually, as they became everything to one another, they didn’t have a wedding so high on their priority list, knowing the proof of their love was evident in the two girls they were raising, in the life they had built together despite many unwanted opinions trying to ruin it. 

“Let me talk to your dad sweetie. Can you grab my water from the living room?” His girlfriend asked as her daughter handed her the phone and jumped off the bed.

After the sound of the young girl’s footsteps softened in the background, she spoke up, “Sorry about that, Lew, she saw a photo of some celebrity wedding today and her interest in the topic was reignited.”

“She is a curious kid, I get it. She is a smart one too, she gets it from her mother.” He watched his girlfriend blush at the compliment. Even while tired having to take care of the two young children alone, she seemed to be glowing. “We never did get around to marriage, did we?” 

She sighed, “I guess we got too busy. I hadn’t even thought about it in a while- not that I don’t want to marry you still!”

He laughed at her realization she may have chosen her words wrong, “No, I haven’t either. Two kids is a lot, and we both know how we feel about each other. But I will always be ready to marry you, the second you say so.”

“Well, I’ll always be ready to marry you, after you properly propose. You already got two kids out of me, I at least deserve a big flashy ring.” She teased.

“And you shall have it my love.” Lewis suddenly heard his daughter coming back. He spoke up when he saw her pop back up on screen, “What do you think, love bug? Should mommy and daddy get married? I think your mom would look beautiful in a big white dress, right?”

The little girl perked up at that, “Yes! But, will it be hard for mommy to wear a dress with the baby in her tummy?” She asked, pointing to her mom’s stomach.

Both adults froze. 

Slowly, Lewis’ girlfriend let out a deep sigh. “Baby, I told you not to talk about that with daddy till we could tell him…”

If his eyes opened any wider, they would have popped out of his head. “She’s serious? We are having another baby?”

“Surprise? I wanted to keep it a secret till you came back and make it all special but she was so sad when you left I told her to cheer her up.”

Lewis’ heart softened at the thought, “Well, I guess a wedding might have to be postponed for the time being” He amused.

They’d get around to it, maybe after this next kid, maybe after the next few.

Part 2 coming soon featuring: Alex Albon x reader, Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!Reader (Its 1 am and I have work in a few hours)

[acourtofchaos]

I SWEAR THE DAY I DON'T HAVE HEART PALPITATIONS AND WITNESS MY SOUL ASCENDING OVER YOUR WORK IS THE DAY I HAVE PASSED FROM THIS WORLD.

HOPE YOU'RE READY FOR MY MANY SILLY RAMBLINGS UNDER THE CUT

FIRSTLY THIS,

So when you pushed open the door to the room of requirement a little over ten-minutes later, you hadn't been sure what you were expecting to find. Something darker, maybe. More foreboding. But when the room revealed itself before you—silent, draped in soft moonlight that pooled over the bed with a window wide and open, spilling that pale silver fog across the floor—you almost laughed.

IS GORGEOUS. I LOVE THE EXPECTING OF SOMETHING DARK AND IT BEING SO LIGHT INSTEAD. AND LIKE IT BEING A PERFECT MIRROR OF MATTHEO AND HOW THE EXPECTATION OF THIS NIGHT BETWEEN THEM COULD BE. JUST HONESTLY BEAUTIFUL.

SECONDLY, YOU KNOW I ALWAYS ADORE YOUR CHARACTERISATION OF MATTHEO AND THIS IS NO DIFFERENT.

He turned, finally. His eyes met yours and you saw it—the hesitation, the way his gaze moved over you, slow, cautious. He took in the way the light draped itself over your shoulders, moving lower—and it was as if for the first time, he allowed himself to see you fully, all the details he had so tried to ignore, now right in front of him. He drank them in.

AND

He moved closer, but not close enough. Not yet. His breath was tight, chest rising and falling too fast. The space between you felt like a chasm, though it was barely there at all.

I LOVE THAT HE'S NERVOUS, THAT DESPITE HIM BEING ESSENTIALLY IN CONTROL OF THIS SITUATION GIVEN THAT HE HAS THE EXPERIENCE, HE'S NOT ACTING CONFIDENT OR SMUG. HE'S UNSURE AND I LOVE THE SENSE OF VULNERABILITY.

"I'm not hesitating," he muttered, though the roughness in his voice betrayed him. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this with you. His best friend's little sister. He wanted to give you every chance to stop this, to walk away. "Just trying not to rush this—rush you."

I JUST WANT TO HOLD HIS PRETTY FACE. I LOVE PATIENT MATTHEO.

His hand caught your wrist, intending to stop you, but his fingers lingered against your skin. Frozen.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, the words thick in his throat. "Your first time should be—"

"My choice," you interrupted, pressing closer, your body flush against his, your lips brushing his jaw as your hand slid lower, teasing the edge of his belt. "My virginity is mine to give, Mattheo. And I want to give it to you."

He shuddered, your words settling, sinking into the dark space that held you both captive. His hand found your hip, the other threading through your hair, gently tugging your head back to expose the soft skin of your neck."You’re not thinking straight," he rasped. "You'll regret this..."

But even as he said it, his hands tightened, pulling you impossibly closer.

I AM OBSESSED OVER THE WAR WITHIN MATTHEO, THE WAY HIS BODY AND HIS ACTIONS DISREGARD HIS WORDS AND HIS FEAR. I LOVE HER CONFIDENCE IN HER DECISION AND HOW MUCH IT EFFECTS HIM TO HEAR IT.. AAAAAAA SLDKFJDJS GOD I WANT TO MARRY YOU'RE WRITING (and you)

—his brain was struggling to catch up, like he couldn't believe the sudden shift, couldn't quite fathom the boldness with which you undid him.

Until—his hands were on you, spinning you around, your back hitting the desk with a thud.

THE FUCKING SWITCH HERE OMG

You shuddered—you'd never seen him like this before—there was something feral in the way he moved, now, something sharp in the way his hands worked.

His presence consumed the room, and for a moment, it was all you could focus on—the intensity of him, the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes.

FERAL MATTHEO. FERAL MATTHEO. FERAL MATTHEO. I'M SCREAMING. HOWLING. CLAWING AT THE WALLS. I'D LET THIS MAN TEAR ME TO PIECES WITHOUT HESITATION.

"That's all you think about, isn't it?" He smirked, lips falling to your neck, tongue tracing the places he knew would wreck you, each soft, wet press making you whimper despite yourself. "You don't care about anything else..." his fingers slipped lower, dipping between your folds—and you cried out, shameless, the sensation unlike any other you'd ever felt. "…not the consequences, not the risk...you just want me…”

I FEEL CALLED OUT.

"You—" you panted, trying to find your voice. Blinking through the haze of lingering bliss. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" He chuckled your name against your neck, lips brushing a path to your ear. "Because you might fall in love with me?" His teeth grazed the sensitive spot under your lobe, along your jawline. "Oh wait...you already have."

DAMN FUCKING RIGHT I HAVE YOU SEXY BITCH. GODDDD I KNOW I'VE ALREADY SAID IT BUT YOU JUST WRITE MATTHEO SO PERFECTLY. TO HAVE HIM BE SO FUCKING COCKY DURING SUCH AN OVERWHELMING MOMENT. HE'S A LITTLE SHIT AND I LOVE HIM FOR IT.

His face was a storm—flushed, eyes half-shut—but at your voice they opened and flicked down to yours, and for once, there was no arrogance, no mockery in that stare. Just raw, primal need, burning so fiercely it made you ache. His hips rocked, desperate for more. Painfully. A hole in his chest torn wide open for you to see, and he didn't care. Couldn't care.

THIS!!!!!!! THE IMAGERY!!!!! JUST ALL OF HIS DEFENCES BLOWN AWAY, I LOVE IT SO MUCH

His voice dropped, eyes dark and soft at once as he pushed another finger inside. "You know you’ve always had me wrapped around your fucking finger. You know I care about you—“

His words were too much, pressing on something fragile inside you, and you pulled him into a kiss to shut him up—deep, desperate, drowning.

I'M SOBBING, THE INTENSITY BETWEEN THEM. I CANT BREATHE.

"You've got me," he rasped, hips grinding involuntarily against your hand. "Just—fuck—don't hate me after this."

JUST PUNCH ME IN THE HEART WHY DONT YOU.

His eyes were locked onto yours, all that self-assurance gone, melted into something more human—something raw, unguarded.

You could feel it; the vulnerability of this moment stretched between you both—the distance you'd maintained for so long, the careful walls you'd built, were nothing now. He was in too deep, and so were you.

"Stop me at any time," he whispered, his voice a raw rasp, eyes meeting yours. "Just breathe.”

He leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, and you kissed him like the world might collapse if you didn't.

EM WHAT THE HELL, I DIDNT EXPECT TO BE AN EMOTIONAL WRECK OVER A VIRGINITY LOSS FIC AT 11AM. GOD THE SOFTNESS IS MAKING ME ACHE.

It was overwhelming—the fullness, the ache that felt like it might split you in two. And yet, beneath the pain, something else stirred. His words, soft and rough all at once, made the sensation bearable, turned the hurt into something else. You focused on his voice, on the way he stroked your hair, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

OKAY I'M GOING TO STOP THERE OTHERWISE I'M JUST GOING TO BE PUTTING THE WHOLE FIC IN THIS REBLOG WITH MY SILLY LITTLE ANNOTATIONS. I'M OBSESSED WITH THIS, I LOVE THAT DURING IT HAPPENING THERE'S BARELY A SENTENCE WITHOUT THEM NEEDING TO GASP FOR BREATH, THE INTENSITY OF IT IS JUST PORTRAYED SO WELL. YOU REALLY ARE A MASTER OF YOUR CRAFT AND I'LL BE WORSHIPPING THIS FIC IN MY HEAD FOR WEEKS.

LOVE IT AND LOVE YOU 🖤

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th. mattheo - virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART TWO | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

summary: pls read part one first for a lil buildup. also. im laughing at myself bc there was a perfectly good bed…right there…

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, virginity loss, PIV, so much dirty talk, so much patience from mattheo, (more of a realistic virginity loss bc it’s not always easy), praise!!!!, slight degradation, fingering, multiorgasm, handjob, best friends lil sister trope.

Mattheo Riddle was so accustomed to this. The pulse of adrenaline in the dead of night, the quiet hum of anticipation stretching every second longer than it needed to be. You weren't naive to that, not to him, nor the danger he carried so effortlessly in his stride. He wore it like a second skin.

But you—you were not accustomed to it. Not to any of this.

So when you pushed open the door to the room of requirement a little over ten-minutes later, you hadn't been sure what you were expecting to find. Something darker, maybe. More foreboding. But when the room revealed itself before you—silent, draped in soft moonlight that pooled over the bed with a window wide and open, spilling that pale silver fog across the floor—you almost laughed.

Too perfect. Too on the nose, like the castle itself had been watching you both for months and had decided this was the moment it would indulge you.

"You're late." Mattheo's voice cut through the quiet.

His back was to you, suit jacket discarded on an old oak desk against the wall, dark curls falling just above his collar as he stood by the window, eyes fixed on the lake. The moonlight made the ripples dance, just like the tension in the room.

You took a step toward him, silent.

He turned, finally. His eyes met yours and you saw it—the hesitation, the way his gaze moved over you, slow, cautious. He took in the way the light draped itself over your shoulders, moving lower—and it was as if for the first time, he allowed himself to see you fully, all the details he had so tried to ignore, now right in front of him. He drank them in.

You gave him a small, nervous smile, hoping it would ease the weight of his stare. "I didn't realize you were the type to keep track of time."

He moved closer, but not close enough. Not yet. His breath was tight, chest rising and falling too fast. The space between you felt like a chasm, though it was barely there at all.

"You've a lot to learn, little girl," he teased, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it did nothing to mask the conflict in his eyes. It was meant to disarm you, but it only made the air heavier. His jaw tightened. "You're sure about this?"

"Quite sure," you breathed, stepping closer, close enough to admire the sharp line of his jaw, the soft stubble. "You're the one who's hesitating."

"I'm not hesitating," he muttered, though the roughness in his voice betrayed him. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this with you. His best friend's little sister. He wanted to give you every chance to stop this, to walk away. "Just trying not to rush this—rush you."

You let out a small huff, your hand moving up to find his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Mattheo Riddle was nervous.

"You've been making me wait for months," you whispered. "I don't think a little rushing would hurt."

He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on your hand as it trailed over his chest, lower, teasing. Every touch was a flame against his skin, every breath between you a match struck in the dark. He wanted you, more than anything, but the weight of it—the wrongness, the danger—clawed at his conscience.

His hand caught your wrist, intending to stop you, but his fingers lingered against your skin. Frozen.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, the words thick in his throat. "Your first time should be—"

"My choice," you interrupted, pressing closer, your body flush against his, your lips brushing his jaw as your hand slid lower, teasing the edge of his belt. "My virginity is mine to give, Mattheo. And I want to give it to you."

He shuddered, your words settling, sinking into the dark space that held you both captive. His hand found your hip, the other threading through your hair, gently tugging your head back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

"You’re not thinking straight," he rasped. "You'll regret this..."

But even as he said it, his hands tightened, pulling you impossibly closer.

"I'll regret nothing." Your fingers slipped lower, grazing his crotch, moving with nothing but instinct and need. Biting your lip, you felt the outline of him, hard and aching under your palm, and squeezed—he grunted, snapping his hips, and you throbbed. "Shit, Mattheo..."

"You are—fuck..." Mattheo's voice was a ragged breath, the words drawn out like he'd been holding them back for months. "...such a little tease."

You let go as quickly as you'd squeezed, and he growled against your skin, fingers tightening in your hair. Your hands found his face, pulling him in, crushing your lips to his. You moved with intent, pushing him back until his thighs hit the edge of the desk, and he groaned again—this low, guttural sound that sent a thrill through you.

You smirked into the kiss, tasting his frustration, savouring the way his defences cracked open. When you pulled back, his chest was heaving, lips swollen, eyes dark with want.

"I learned from the best," you whispered, teasing as your fingers slid down, finding the buckle of his belt. He watched you, every breath uneven, as you worked at the latch, pulling the leather free. "You've had months of fun tormenting me," you continued, moving to the button, the zipper. "Kissing me, only to say it was a mistake. Grabbing my ass every chance you could. Talking sweet when my brother wasn't looking..." your smirk deepened, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "...it's my turn now."

His pants sagged around his hips as you undid them and he cursed under his breath—his brain was struggling to catch up, like he couldn't believe the sudden shift, couldn't quite fathom the boldness with which you undid him.

Until—his hands were on you, spinning you around, your back hitting the desk with a thud.

"You think you're in control here?" His fingers slid up your hips, dragging your dress along with them, baring your skin to the cool air. "You think you have any goddamn idea what you're doing?"

You shuddered—you'd never seen him like this before—there was something feral in the way he moved, now, something sharp in the way his hands worked. His thumbs hooked around your panties and in one swift motion, they were gone—torn down your thighs before he urged you back onto the desk, parting your legs with his torso.

You were breathless, chest heaving, pulse thrumming wildly. His presence consumed the room, and for a moment, it was all you could focus on—the intensity of him, the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes.

You stared up at him, mind empty, until—

Smack.

His palm came down on your inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a jolt of sensation straight to your cunt. Your skin stung from the contact, but that wasn't the part that made you gasp. It was the heat, the way it surged through your veins, flooding your abdomen in a slow, aching pulse. You liked that.

"I asked you a question." His lips brushed against your ear, breath warm as he leaned in. "Two, actually."

You couldn't think, mind swimming—the press of his body, the rough timber of his voice, the weight of his hands as his fingers teased, climbing higher, brushing closer to the ache between your thighs. You sucked in a breath, trying to recall what he'd asked, trying to focus anything but the fire he was lighting in you—

But then, his fingers slipped further, closer, just barely brushing your slit, and your hips jerked involuntarily, chasing that touch.

"No—I don’t—“ the shame in the answer barely mattered. His fingers were so close, so close. "Gods—I just know I want you—"

"That's all you think about, isn't it?" He smirked, lips falling to your neck, tongue tracing the places he knew would wreck you, each soft, wet press making you whimper despite yourself. "You don't care about anything else..." his fingers slipped lower, dipping between your folds—and you cried out, shameless, the sensation unlike any other you'd ever felt. "…not the consequences, not the risk...you just want me…”

Your nails dug into his back and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, wetting his fingers in your arousal before gliding back up to your clit and tracing over it.

"Oh—Gods—" you whinged, moaning into his shoulder.

Mattheo’s hands were experienced—that much was certain. Those fingers knew exactly how to move, precisely how to trace light, delicate circles over your clit that made you twitch, squirm— nerves stripped as you took in the new sensation. It wracked every inch of you, and you could feel him savouring your helplessness, drawing out every ounce of tension that had been building between you for months.

“You’re soaked.” You could hear the disbelief in his voice. “...filthy little thing for me, aren't you?"

"Gods, Mattheo, yes—" your eyes rolled, thighs twitching against his hand. "I am—ohh—"

"Yeah?" His tongue traced a slow, wet path up the side of your neck, teeth dragging over your pulse. "You like this?"

His words were enough to make you want to scream, but no sound formed—just a low, broken moan that spilled from your throat, raw and shameless.

"Answer me," he murmured. "You ever orgasm from this before? Hm?"

"No—" your voice choked, trembling as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at him, something like shame pooling in your stomach. "Oh, fuck—"

"No, what?" His fingers pressed harder, circles growing faster, more insistent, and his voice—Christ, his voice— "I asked you two questions, little slut. Keep up. You wanted this."

"Yes—mmf—I like it—" you whined, the words a desperate spill from your lips, too flustered to form anything coherent. "And no—Gods—you're the first to...to touch me like this..."

He figured as much but the admission tore through him nonetheless, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a groan—not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, a bruise, a reminder. His hand dipped lower, a finger pushing inside you without warning, pressing deep into your slick heat, and you cried out, your body tightening, pulsing around him, vision swimming.

"And this?" His voice was a smirk against your skin. "You let anyone else inside you like this?"

You knew he already knew the answer. You both did. He was reveling in it—the way he had you, trembling, helpless. You'd never heard him like this, never heard him so crass, so unfiltered, and the way he spoke made your whole body flush with heat.

"No." The word was a strangled moan, barely a breath. "Gods—Mattheo—you already knew that—"

He crooked his finger inside you, and your back arched, the stretch unfamiliar yet mindnumbing, his thumb working your clit. You felt teeth nipping at your earlobe, a hum into your eardrum—his body thrumming with the satisfaction of finally, finally letting himself have you where he wanted.

"Perhaps I did." He added another finger, curling them inside you, his teeth scraping along your neck in a smile. The groan that slipped from your lips was desperate, pained in its pleasure, your body reacting to every new inch of him. "Fucking hell—you can barely take two..."

Your head shook, words failing you. "Gods—Mattheo—I...fuck..."

A low grunt rumbled from his chest, his fingers moving quicker, slick with the evidence of your desire. "Feels good?"

"Yes—" you moaned, breath hitching, vision blurring as he pumped his fingers in and out, building something inside you that you couldn't name, something new, something overwhelming. "I feel—oh, gods—something...happening—"

"You feel something?" His voice was mocking, drenched in that innocent, teasing tone that had you falling apart. "Yeah? What's happening, princess?"

You couldn't find breath, couldn't form the words to answer him. The pressure inside you was mounting, intensity unbearable, your body tense and straining toward an edge. You clung to him, breathless, desperate for more, desperate for something, anything—

"I don't—" your voice broke as his fingers curled deeper, wetness flooding between your thighs, his thumb relentless. "Pressure—fuck—so much—"

He nodded. "Yeah? Pressure in that pretty stomach? Feels fucking good, doesn't it?"

"Fuck—yes, yes," your lids fluttered. "S’good—"

"You're so close." He watched you, drunk on your downfall, and smirked as you neared the edge. "You're going to cum for me."

Sanity shattered in your throat—words trapped, swallowed by the tension, leaving only the soft, unbridled whimpers you once might've once found embarrassing. But there was no shame now, not when you were this close, the pressure coiling tighter in your core, ready to burst.

"Ohh—" you managed, lungs sputtering, head tipping back. The sound of your voice, the way you moaned, was foreign, unfamiliar to your own ears. "Gods—oh fuck-"

"I know," he cooed, sweet like sugar. "I know."

You were a mess. Too close, too overwhelmed—everything was him. His scent, the heat of his skin, the feel of his fingers working that magic that had your body convulsing before you could even cry out, before you could process the way your vision blurred with the force of it. The climax hit like a wave crashing over you, and your moans were swallowed by his kiss, his lips on yours the second your body tightened, shaking against his hand.

He was relentless, rough and insistent, kissing you like he wanted to devour you whole—drowning out the world as your body pulsed around his fingers. You’d never felt such an intense sensation, lava coursing, replacing the blood in your veins. His breath stuttered against your mouth, a low groan vibrating through him, the sound making your spine tingle.

"F-fuck," he muttered, pulling his fingers from you, glistening and wet. "Messy little thing."

The words sent a shiver through you, not just from their meaning but from the way he said them, like something perverse, intimate. Your chest tightened with the warmth of them.

"You—" you panted, trying to find your voice. Blinking through the haze of lingering bliss. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" He chuckled your name against your neck, lips brushing a path to your ear. "Because you might fall in love with me?" His teeth grazed the sensitive spot under your lobe, along your jawline. "Oh wait...you already have."

"Shut up," you whispered, stomach flipping at the way he said your name, the way it dripped from his mouth like honey. "Have not."

"I've known for a while, you know," he mused, his voice so low, so quiet. "Don't think I haven't seen it—the way you look at me." He kissed your skin again, working his way up, each press of his lips something sacred, moving closer to your mouth. "The way you can't get enough of me."

You could kill him for it, for the way his words sunk into your bones, making all the feelings you've buried rise to the surface, pulling you under. He just had to go there—had to milk every inch of your composure out of you, because it's not enough for him to have you disarmed physically—sexually—he needed to have you disarmed emotionally, too.

Perhaps the worst part of it all is how right he was. Arrogant bastard.

"Stop talking," your hand drifted down, grazing the bulge in his pants, your fingers slipping under the waistband, rubbing him through the thin fabric of his boxers. It was reckless. You've never done this before, but God, you wanted to. "Stop talking and teach me."

The room tilted—the world off its axis. His breath caught, choked in his lungs as he grabbed your face and pulled your lips to his—his kiss wild, his tongue insistent, running along your gums and wrestling with yours for control.

"Fuck," he groaned into your mouth as you tugged his boxers down, freeing him, your hand wrapping around him. Hot. Hard. "Wrap your fingers around it, princess. Gentle strokes. Just like that."

Your heart stumbled at the sound of his voice, thick, raw and open. You tightened your grip, stroking him slowly, experimentally, and he hissed through his teeth, a groan vibrating through his chest.

"You're so big," you murmured, forehead against his, the words spilling out without thought. "So thick..."

"Fucking minx," he moaned. "Stroking me and telling me how big I am—fuck—you're not as innocent as everyone thinks."

"Only you know this," you whispered, your hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes, pulse soaring as he groaned. "Does it feel good, Matty?"

"Fuck—Christ—" his breath was jagged, words ripped from his throat like they barely wanted to come out, hips jerking mindlessly. "Tighter, mm—little tighter—"

Your cunt throbbed—each whispered invocation of a god not his own, of something he didn't believe in, forced a shudder through you. That's how you knew. Knew how lost he was. He’d no mind left at all if he was muttering muggle gods.

"Like that?" Your fingers squeezed around him, your gaze burning into his as you looked up through fluttering lashes.

His face was a storm—flushed, eyes half-shut—but at your voice they opened and flicked down to yours, and for once, there was no arrogance, no mockery in that stare. Just raw, primal need, burning so fiercely it made you ache. His hips rocked, desperate for more. Painfully. A hole in his chest torn wide open for you to see, and he didn't care. Couldn't care.

"Yeah—shit—just like that," he gritted out, grip on your hips bruising, but you welcomed it. Needed it. "Fast learner, aren't you?"

"You're a good teacher," you whimpered, a sound that was barely yours as his fingers slipped between your thighs, finding your slit, teasing you open again. "Oh—"

"You've always been a little teacher's pet," he groaned, thrusting into your hand as he slipped a finger inside you. The stretch made you wince, pleasure and pain blurring into something that sent sparks behind your eyes. He watched you, gaze molten. "Fuck—it’s gonna hurt, you know that, right?"

The ache spread through you, but you didn't flinch. "I know," you whispered as his thumb found your clit, making you gasp. "I trust you."

"I know you do." His voice dropped, eyes dark and soft at once as he pushed another finger inside. "You know you’ve always had me wrapped around your fucking finger. You know I care about you—“

His words were too much, pressing on something fragile inside you, and you pulled him into a kiss to shut him up—deep, desperate, drowning. Your hand tightened on his length, the heat between you flaring, and you moaned against his mouth, shaking with the need for more.

"I want you," you breathed, each syllable shivering on your lips as you clenched around his fingers. "I've wanted you for months—"

Months? No, it had been years. Years of wanting, needing, watching from afar, heart in your throat. Years of avoiding anyone else because no one was him. You knew he’d felt the same and it killed him. It wasn't logical, wasn't supposed to be like this—not with you, not now, not his best friend's little sister, not him whispering sweet, dangerous things while knuckle-deep inside your virgin cunt.

It was as if you both shook those thoughts from your minds at once. You’ll think about the implications later.

"You've got me," he rasped, hips grinding involuntarily against your hand. "Just—fuck—don't hate me after this."

Hate him? The very idea was laughable, absurd. You could never hate him. Not even in those moments you tried, not even when he deserved it.

"I could never hate you," you murmured, drawing him closer, lips trembling against his. "Just—please—"

Something shifted in his eyes, and he knew. Knew what you needed. What you both needed. You were vulnerable, trembling, but you trusted him—completely. You’d been in his life for so long. You knew he’d never hurt you. He could see it your eyes, the trust, the in the way your body bent to his touch.

"Alright," he said softly, a hand running up your body to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "Alright."

His fingers slid out of you, leaving you bare and breathless, and you swallowed. This was really about to happen.

"Lay back," his voice cut through your haze. "Legs to your chest."

The command wrapped around you like a vice, tightening the anticipation, and you fell back on your elbows, staring up at him as you raised your legs. Vulnerability crept in, making your thighs tense, but Mattheo was there, spreading you open with firm hands, pressing himself against your slick. His eyes were locked onto yours, all that self-assurance gone, melted into something more human—something raw, unguarded.

You could feel it; the vulnerability of this moment stretched between you both—the distance you'd maintained for so long, the careful walls you'd built, were nothing now. He was in too deep, and so were you.

"Stop me at any time," he whispered, his voice a raw rasp, eyes meeting yours. "Just breathe.”

He leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, and you kissed him like the world might collapse if you didn't. He guided himself against you, the press of him at your entrance an unbearable ache. He was hot, hard, huge—and despite the wetness slicking down your thighs, your body resisted, too tight, too unsure of this.

You whimpered, instinctively trying to pull away, but he stayed, pressing kisses to your hair, your temple, whispering something that sounded like comfort but burned like fire. It hurt more than you expected, more than any of the fantasies you had dared to entertain.

Doubt curled through your chest, what if you couldn't take him? What if—

"M-Mattheo..." his name broke in your throat as you clutched his arm, nails digging into his skin. He tried to push in again, but your body resisted. "It—you—you can't fit..."

"Shh," his lips ghosted over yours, his hand slipping through your hair, trying again, moving slow, controlled. "You're just—so goddamn tight—"

The way he said it sent a spark through your veins. It was filthy, shameless, and it lit you up from the inside, despite the pain. No one had ever spoken to you like this. You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears pricking as he tried to work you open.

And then—he was in.

"I-it hurts," you hissed—pain lighting up your spine as he worked his cockhead inside you, pushing against the resistance of your walls. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, each inch a battle. The pressure was unbearable, the sting so sharp it was paralyzing. "Oh, fuck, Mattheo—"

He groaned, a sound from deep within his chest, his head bowing, sweat creeping over his brow.

"Shhh, I know—I know..." he murmured through shredded cords, fighting to maintain control as his hips paused, barely halfway in, just enough to make you feel like you might break. "S'okay...you're doing so good..."

It was overwhelming—the fullness, the ache that felt like it might split you in two. And yet, beneath the pain, something else stirred. His words, soft and rough all at once, made the sensation bearable, turned the hurt into something else. You focused on his voice, on the way he stroked your hair, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"Why—mmff—gods..." you could barely speak, the words tangled in your throat. "Why do you have to be so big—"

A strangled laugh escaped him, though his eyes stayed shut tight, his jaw clenched—cock twitching inside you.

"I don't—fuck—know." His fingers brushed your lips, covering your mouth gently. "Don't go talking like that—not right now—"

You might have laughed, too, if your body wasn't so taut, strung tight with tension and pain and something far more profound. He was barely inside you, his words making your insides clench, drawing another groan from his lips at the squeeze.

His hand held your jaw, palm pressing lightly over your mouth, enough to breathe, to speak—

"Why—" you knew what he meant, knew the warning in his eyes, but you couldn't stop yourself. "—not?"

His breath hitched. "Because—" he swallowed hard, words coming through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening around your jaw, a warning in his grip. "Because—fuck—your mouth will get you in trouble."

Oh. That was what he meant.

"But—oh fuck—you're so...big..." the words slipped out before you could catch them, a disgruntled moan falling from your lips as he sank all the way in, filling you so completely it was dizzying. The pressure, the heat, the sensation of being pried open—it was all too much, and you cried out, unable to stop the sound from spilling out. "Ohhh—so big—"

"I said, fuck," he cursed, hand clamping firm over your mouth now as his body shuddered, as he ground his hips gently into yours. "—don't say that."

It was too late. You didn't need to say anything further. He could feel it—he could feel everything in the way you clenched around him, barely letting him move—so goddamn tight it was almost painful—he could feel it in the look in your eyes, in the trembling of your body beneath his.

"I can feel you thinking it," he grunted as you squirmed beneath him, every movement making him twitch inside you, drawing another choked groan from his throat. "Merlin sakes—"

You knew he wasn't used to this. To slowing down, to drawing out the tension like this, to the maddening slowness of every motion. He wanted to lose himself, to break you open hard and fast, to take and give and take again until both of you shattered into something unrecognizable. But he couldn't—not with the way your eyes glistened, not with the way you gasped and whimpered as he filled you.

"No talking," he sucked in a breath against your neck, his hips rolling into yours in slow, unbearable waves. "Only if you need me to stop."

He was breaking. So were you. Every thrust was an exquisite kind of torture—an ache that twisted and stretched, dulled only by the flick of his fingers against your clit. His lips pressed along your neck, kissed along the line of your jaw, groaning with each deep, patient push, carving his way into you as you clung to him, your mind floating through the fog of pain into something different—something overwhelming.

Your head fell back. “Oh—Oh gods—“

Each gasp felt like it might be your last as that something built deep inside you, tight and unfamiliar, an ache that didn't hurt but begged to be released. And he felt it too—Mattheo felt it, the way your body pulsed beneath his, the way you tightened around him like you couldn't bear to let him go.

"Bloody fuck—are you—are you going to—" his words were ragged, broken. He couldn't finish the thought, couldn't hold himself together. "Are you—"

“Mattheo—” your voice trembled, a breathless moan as your back arched, pressing into him, your body seeking more. The pain was null now, replaced by an overwhelming pressure, something tight and aching and good—you felt every inch of him inside you, every pulse of his cock as he moved, slow but relentless. “Mattheo—oh gods—”

"Fuck—" he bit down, teeth sinking into your neck as his fingers swirled your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. "You're gonna make me—"

You choked because there was no space for words, no breath for anything but the raw sound of your bodies—moans, gasps, ragged inhales tangled together as you both hurtled towards something inevitable. The light of the moon radiated the man above you and that was all you could register other than the rising crescendo of your climax—something so intense it scared you, almost broke you apart—your body seizing, trembling, as his fingers pressed harder against your clit, as he thrust deeper.

And then, there was only one more blink until you shattered beneath him, the orgasm tearing through you in oceanic motion, muscles clenching around him so tightly he could barely move—and then he was there, too, his body jerking as he groaned into your skin, his release ripped from him in jagged gasps as you milked him without mercy. He slumped on top of you, fingers digging into your skin, the two of you pulsing together in the aftermath, the room spinning, your bodies still trembling from the force of it.

The world was slow to return, the roar of sensations fading into something quieter, softer. The weight of him on top of you was grounding—his forehead pressed against the crook of your neck, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Neither of you moved for a long while, just basked in the silence, kind that settled in after something irrevocable had passed between two people.

And then, Mattheo pushed up, enough to meet your eyes. Your chest ached at the softness inside his own.

“Are you—” he swallowed as he drank you in, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the flushed cheeks. His words hung in the air as if he didn’t know how to finish the question.

“I’m okay,” you nodded, voice hoarse. “I’m good.”

Mattheo nodded too but didn’t move, still buried inside you, just taking you in. Then, gently, he shifted, pulling back with a slow, careful movement that made you wince slightly. The second he’d pulled out, you felt different—more aware of the vulnerability you’d just laid bare, more aware of the line you two had just obliterated into absolute shambles.

“You sure?” he asked, a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—

You nodded again, the smallest smile pulling at your lips, though your heart was still racing, the enormity of it all sinking in.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m sure.”

His jaw tightened, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” His voice was barely audible, like he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Of course he was thinking it too—how could he not? This was no longer something you could pretend didn’t exist, no longer something you could hide behind banter and stolen glances and secret kisses.

“Yeah,” you breathed, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there, the heat still radiating from his skin. “It does.”

[miioouu]

Ghost's New Neighbour pt2

I wasn’t planning on making a second part of this, but since you all like it and asked for it, here we go, i guess. Tw: Smut, Oral (male receiving), no gender used for reader (but a little feminine?), mean Ghost (sorry, i tried many times to write a sweet simon fic but i just can’t!!) Wc: 842 

“Come over later, 8:30 pm sharp, I don't appreciate tardiness” His words ring in your ears, distracting you from your tasks. How are you supposed to focus on putting your plates away when you can still feel the ghost of his lips against your skin? 

You know it’s a bad idea; first of all, he’s your neighbour, it’ll be awkward later on, you’ll definitely regret it, and what if the word comes out; do you really want to be known as the building’s resident slut? Second of all, he’s a stranger, you don’t know anything about him. Even the doorbell doesn’t have his name on it, paper white without even an initial or anything to give you a clue about this mysterious man. You’ll regret it, you definitely will. 

So why are you smoothing down your clothes? Rechecking your lipstick for the nth time? Why are your fingers hovering above this damn ringer, throwing all morals away?

It’s 8:30 sharp when the ding echoes in his rather empty apartment; he chuckles, part of him certain that you’d come over, the other held hope that you’d be a little wiser than this, a little more modest than this; but you weren’t, of course not, else you wouldn’t have let you touch him like he did in the elevator, wouldn’t have shivered when his words tickled your ear, wouldn’t have gotten wet at the feather-like brushing of his cock against your ass. No dignity, he thinks as he lazily makes his way over to open the door for you, internally laughing at the sight of you making yourself all pretty for him, what a nice shade of lipstick. 

He liked it so much, that pinkish tone that made you look a little more glowy, a little more flushed, not that you needed that enhanced. He liked it so much on your lips, and even more when it left a mark around his shaft. Honestly you don’t remember how you got here; one moment you were shuffling in his doorway, struggling to greet him without stuttering, the next you were in the middle of his living room, on your knees, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth languidly. His hands find your hair, guiding you back and forth around his length, setting a slow pace at first, wanting to relish in the feeling of your warm mouth, the tightness of your throat constricting as you gag whenever he pushes a little too deep. 

But Simon was never a patient man, sure he learned how to dismiss his frustration on the field, learned how to manipulate himself into being more forbearing, but he will not use those tricks now, not when he has bright, glossy eyes looking at him, begging him to use their mouth. Who was he to deny them anyway? He thought about warning you, but where’s the fun in that, right? In a swift motion, he pulls you closer until your nose nuzzles against his pelvic, his pubes tickling you but you don’t have time to adjust because he’s already pistoning his cock in and out your warm cave. He lets out a groan, his head falls back as he feels your nails dig in his thighs, holding onto him like a lifeline, creating bloody crescents on his skin, just some other scars to add to his collection. 

The once always empty, always eerily silent apartment, now feels suffocating, loud with groans and hisses from the tall man, mixed with your gagging echoing through the room. “Slut” that whispered word is what broke the chaotic symphony. Your pride is telling you to pull away, glare at him and defend your honor, but you can’t do that; not with his hands clutching at your hair and keeping you in place as he fucks your mouth, not when your thighs are pressing together, imagining, knowing, just how soaked the pretty panties you were wearing became.  

You can feel him getting closer to the edge with the way his thrusts became messier and more erratic, with the way his grip on your hair keeps tightening and getting loose over and over again, with the way his eyes are fluttering, cheeks are getting redder and his chest is heaving, letting out mumbled curses under his breath. “Fuck…come on make me cum, pretty girl” The demand alone made your thighs clench, a whimper escaped you, vibrating around him and sending goosebumps all over his body “Fuckin’ slut” he groans, accent heavy, as he finally stills, reaching deep as he releases ropes of hot, sticky liquid, painting your throat white. 

You’d think this was only the beginning, the way his hand loosens around your hair, massaging your scalp where he was pulling too hard, making you melt and whimper, heart skipping a beat at his gentleness, only to be broken the moment he pushes you back, adjusting his sweatpants properly before turning away. “Tomorrow at the same time, don’t be late. Now leave my house, it’s not the place for a desperate whore like you.”

Tag List: @blkmtllvr @curtaindiver4000 @moozinomoto

[shadyr4m]

REWATCHING SEASON 2 EPISODE 7 OF ARCANE

+ some of my highlights and notable moments that I enjoyed bc people can’t understand media anymore

This is mostly an infodump of stuff I can fit into a twitter thread/didn't rly want to make into a thread. I'm not great at words so I apologize in advance, I am sure there are many people much better at analysis than I.

I want to start off by saying I am heavily invested in timebomb so this is very much going to be a ship analysis. If you're looking for someone unbiased i am very much not the person for that 😭

FIRST OFF:

The disc on the music box is adorable!!! It features au Powder (who I am going to refer to as just Powder for the duration of my analysis) and au Ekko

Compared to the normal Disc

This is very obviously because it takes place in a different universe, one without Vi or "Jinx".

The first scene starts off with AU Ekko writing in his notebook. (Cute mention is Powder's doodle in his notebook!!) Then we see flashes of the wild rune. This is when AU Ekko switches to canon Ekko.

Also one of my favorite silly images from this episode is this one.. Powder is being so adorable and Ekko is just scared out of his MIND. it's so silly.

In the Last drop, Powder asks Ekko. "What is up with you? You've been out of it all day?". One thing I noticed in my rewatch is that i think Powder is aware this Ekko isn't HER Ekko. This is just one instance of many that makes me think this.

This hideout seems so much more vibrant and loved, similar to Jinx's hideout after Isha. It's colorful. There are guard rails that I like to think was pushed by Vander. We can see Ekko's art scattered around. It just shows how much more support and family Powder has compared to Jinx, which i mention a lot.

Id also like to note Ekko being shocked au him went to powder for help. In his mind at this time he believes Jinx to be all that is left, no more Powder. Through out the episode we see that change.

Notice how Powder gets upset at Ekko in this scene. However, she doesn't react explosively like Jinx would've. She handled it in a way that shows she had support. She told him to leave instead. Again, the main difference between Powder and Jinx isn't only Vi but also the existence of multiple support systems that Jinx simply didn't have.

THIS FLASHBACK! Oh my god this flashback. The fact it happened after he upset Powder? I think it shows just how much he truly cares about Jinx/Powder. He remembers VIVIDLY the day that he thought he killed her. Jinx was his childhood best friend, and I don't think that kind of feeling ever truly goes away. He doesn't want to hurt any version of her, not even the alternate universe her. We see that showcased more later on. Also, random probably insane note. He is interrupted by small children playing, having fun. This isn't a coincidence, it shows he does miss the moments from when they were kids.

While talking with Heimerdinger, we see Ekko look at Powder multiple times. Watching her laugh and be expressive, he smiles. When she doesn't return it we see him get upset. Once more this brings me to my point that he doesn't want to hurt her. Considering he hasn't known this Powder very long you can see where I gather my point that he doesn't want to hurt her in GENERAL. Any version of her.

THIS SCENE!! He is such a bad liar it's adorable. This brings me to my earlier point, Powder knows what's up!! She suspects something 100%. He is talking about this dream her like it was real.

"You aren't the kind of person who helps other people with their projects. Your ideas change the world. I can't shake the feeling that that's who you're supposed to be."

Are you LISTENING TO THIS? He is obviously talking about Jinx. You can tell this by the first sentence because obviously Powder IS that kind of person. He's starting to see that Jinx is just a part of Powder, one that is unavoidable and that he unknowingly appreciates in a sense. Like two sides of one coin he can't see Powder without Jinx and that is good. I think it is here he realizes truly just how much he cares about Jinx.

This whole montage is beautiful but I want to zero in on two things. Powder's reaction to the notebook and how she looks at Ekko after. NOW THIS. This is the nail in the coffin for her. She knows that this is not her Ekko. She has fully gathered that he isn't from this universe.

Also heimerdinger totally knows how Ekko feels you cannot tell me otherwise. Pushing him to go to the party? yeah he knows what you are.

THIS WHOLE SCENE. I AM NOT ANALYZING THE WHOLE THING HERE BUT IT IS GORGEOUS. I saw someone talking about how it was animated on 4's to signify the way Ekko can only go back 4 seconds and I honestly shed a tear. THE SONG TOO? I encourage everyone to look at the lyrics because they're beautiful.

Okay now for my favorite part of this episode so much to dissect and i'm totally going to mansplain but yk..

"I used to dream the undercity could be like this" — That sets the tone for the whole conversation and just what world he is talking about. The canon one.

"But somewhere, I got consumed by all the ways it wasn't. I gave up on it. Gave up on YOU." — Heavy emphasis on this line. Once more he is talking about Jinx. He is talking about how he got so consumed by the way that Jinx wasn't good, and he gave up on her. Believed she was irredeemable. Powder showed him that Jinx is capable of love and happiness, it's just under that tough protective shell. The undercity in the metaphor is Jinx, from my interpretation.

"I promise i'll never forget this." — Now time for my insanity. He doesn't forget this. That's why he saves Jinx from ending her life in the first place. He remembers Powder and knows that with the right support Jinx doesn't have to be the way she is. It's not that she "needs to be fixed" she just needs to be LOVED, like Powder. He sees that now. He sees how in the au the love that everyone shares for one another shaped the undercity beautifully, and made everyone in it much healthier mentally despite going through hardships. That is beautiful. People with mental illness are not unlovable they just need more support, it can't be cured, or fixed just healed. Mental illness is always there it is how you DEAL with it that matters.

Nothing too major to talk about with the kiss. It's sweet I love it, but nothing too notable for me to say about it.

Finally, Ekko leaves the au. I have seen people say that this is a sacrifice, he could've had everything he wanted and he gave it up to save the people at home. But i take insanity to another level. I see this as him appreciating his home. He knows he can never truly love this Powder because she isn't the version he fell in love with. He learned to appreciate Jinx even through her flaws, and that while this world has everything he could want and more he can have that home too.

I am experiencing HEAVY timebomb brainrot if you can’t already tell. I was tired of people taking things in the complete wrong way with this episode, if anyone has different views pls tell me I love hearing how other people took certain scenes. there are a few scenes I love but I would’ve made this post way too long..

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 8

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +4.1K 🤫

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, no smut (alluding to sexual situations), heavily dialogue-centered, use of Daddy, Mama, and other pet names (lil' mama, pretty girl, etc.), spanking, FLUFF, kinks mentioned

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 5 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 6 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 7 => 🦋

*Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

“Terry, can you move? Damn. You don't have to be in my skin 24/7,” I laughed, hitting Terry through my moo-moo. He was underneath my nightgown and resting his face on my belly since we were both lying on the couch.

“Leave me the hell alone, woman. I’m comfortable,” he said, squeezing the back of my thighs.

“Too fuckin’ comfortable, and that's the damn problem. Get up!” I said, attempting to push him. I tugged the nightgown from over his head.

“Hell, no! Move again and see what happens. I dare you!” Terry said, tightening his grip.

“I would be wrong to whoop your ass. Wouldn’t I?” I asked. Terry smacked his lips and pulled the nightgown back over his head.

I leaned up on my elbows and pushed Terry on the floor. “I’m hungry! I’m hot, and you won’t leave me alone!” I pouted.

Terry looked at me from the floor. “Now, if I whooped your ass, would I be wrong?” he asked while standing.

“Yes. Yes, the hell you would. Would you really whoop your baby?” I said, batting my eyelashes.

“Hell yeah. Now, come on!” Terry said, lifting me off the couch. I was cradled in his arms like a baby. “Spoiled ass. I can’t even be mad. It’s my own damn fault,” he said as he carried me to his kitchen.

He leaned over to place me on my feet. “You cooking, or am I?” he asked, kissing my forehead. I pointed towards him. “Aight. Whatchu want?” he asked, crossing his arms.

This was a no-brainer for me. I turned towards the counter and grabbed the loaf of raisin bread, holding it up in front of Terry. “French Toast, again. Really, mama? You ain't tired of it, yet?” he asked, grabbing the bread.

“Nope. I can eat it a million more times as long as you make it,” I said, hugging his abdomen.

“Aight. It’s whateva you say, love. Extra cinnamon, right?” he asked, looking down at me.

I smiled while shaking my head yes. If there was ever a moment that showed how much I had Terry wrapped around my finger, this would be it.

30 minutes later

“Do you want eggs, mama?” Terry asked while standing at the stove.

“Yes, scrambled. Oh, and with cheese!” I said, sitting at the kitchen island.

“I know, baby girl,” Terry said, cracking the eggs into a separate pan.

“So, what are we gonna do today? It looks like it’s gonna rain,” I asked, rising from the chair.

“Hmmm… I don't know. We’ll figure something out,” Terry said, shrugging his shoulders.

I walked to the fridge and looked around for the ingredients to make my iced coffee. I pulled out the coffee concentrate, almond milk, and creamer.

“Can you make me one? Same as last time. I liked the syrup you used,” Terry asked, looking over at me.

“Sure. Just so you know, I used two syrups— white chocolate and sugar cookie. Oh, and thank you again for buying them,” I said placing everything on the counter.

Walking around the kitchen, I opened the cabinet to grab two glasses. “Where are the syrups?” I asked, biting the inside of my lip.

“Cabinet by the fridge,” Terry said, nodding his head.

I opened the cabinet and saw the syrups on the third shelf— the shelf I couldn't reach. I reached towards them to see if I could knock them down. I leaned on the counter and tried to get closer, but nothing worked. I hoisted myself up so that my thighs were on the counter.

As soon as my knees were on the counter, Terry’s arm looped around my waist. “No, ma'am. I think not,” he huffed.

“I could've reached them. I almost had it,” I said while Terry grabbed the bottles from the top shelf. With me still cradled under his arm, he placed the syrups down and closed the cabinet.

“You know I'm not a kid, right?” I said, crossing my arms.

Terry put me down and looked at me before speaking, “Yeah, but that doesn't stop you from bein’ clumsy. Now, does it?” he asked frankly.

I stood there in shock. “Move!” I laughed, pushing past him to grab the syrups. Terry walked around me to go back to the stove.

“Watch ya’self. You playin’ wit’ fire, mama,” Terry said as he continued to make breakfast.

“Try me,” I mumbled under my breath.

Terry’s head snapped to look at me. Our eyes locked in a playfully tense gaze. We both began to smirk at each other. It was clear we were both in a goofy mood. I fought to hold my gaze but couldn’t. I was never going to win a staring contest against this green-eyed bastard. I looked down at the ingredients for the coffee, fighting the urge to laugh.

“That’s yo’ one free pass. Next time, it’s me and you, mama. Understood?” Terry grumbled continuing to cook.

“Maybe,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I don't know. I'm feelin’… feelin’ a little…,” I mumbled while making the base for our coffees.

“A little nothing. Havana Rose… You skatin’ on thin ice, girl. Watch it!” he said without looking back at me.

I could hear the smile on Terry’s face. Honestly, this wasn't doing anything but putting me in a playful mood. Terry moved all the finished food to the opposite side of the kitchen island. I stopped making the coffee and walked to the cabinets where the plates were. I opened it and pulled down two large plates. I walked back over to Terry. I could see him tense up a bit because he immediately knew I was up to no good. I wanted to play, so I slid in between Terry and the island, letting my butt rub against his groin. I pushed my hips back, making sure to press my ass against his dick.

“Here you go, Daddy,” I said, putting the plates in front of us.

As I began to slide from in front of Terry, his hand came down on my left ass cheek. It felt like like my ass was on fire.

“Ow! That fuckin’ hurt!” I screamed while holding my hands over my butt.

Before I could turn around, his other hand came down on the back of my uncovered thighs.

“Havana! Language!” he said, turning back to the food. He picked up a spatula and began plating the French Toast and eggs. His ability to just continue doing shit like nothing happened always pissed me off.

I walked back over to the unfinished coffee, sporting a full pout. I loved hated when he did that. I was only joking with his overly serious ass. Sometimes, I wished Mr. Ex-Marine would lighten up with his mean ass.

“Cute,” Terry laughed, clearly picking at me pouting.

I wanted to cuss his ass out, but I knew better. I chose to hold my tongue and say nothing in return. I just continued to finish the coffee.

15 minutes later

“You almost done?” Terry asked, reaching across the island to stroke my chin.

“Yeah,” I said, finishing the last pieces of strawberries on my plate.

I looked up at Terry. His elbows were propped up as he ate while scrolling on his phone. His mouth was doing that cute little twitch when he was thinking. Damn, he was even fine without trying to be. Ever since that night, I’ve been getting caught up over the smallest things— the way his chest flexes and jiggles when he moves, the way his ears wiggle when he's laughing too hard, the way he… Aw, shit. Here I go again.

“Havana! Mama! Hey, you listenin’?” Terry said, getting my attention.

“Huh? What? I was…” I said, biting my lip in embarrassment.

“You were lookin’ at me, but I felt like you were lookin’ through me. You good?” Terry asked, leaning to stand up straight.

“I’m fine. I was just thinkin’,” I said, pushing my plate away. I was honestly fighting the urge to jump across the island and fu— let me chill.

“Just checkin’ on you, mama,” Terry said, smiling at me. He grabbed our plates and put them in the sink.

“Don't worry. I got the dishes,” I said, sliding off the stool.

“You sure?” Terry asked, watching me closely.

I nodded my head yes. I stood at the kitchen sink and began quickly doing the dishes. I could feel Terry’s eyes lingering on me. I didn't want to turn around and look. As if he could sense the tension, Terry walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“You look so cute, but I know that face. Where’s your head, ‘Vana?” he asked, leaning down to kiss my neck.

“I don't know. Daydreamin’, I guess. I wanted to go out, but…” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“We can always go out later, mama. It’s just after 10 in the morning,” he replied.

“I know. I’ve been in the house for days— baking and getting out orders. I wanted to be anywhere but inside today,” I pouted.

Terry began kissing me repeatedly all over my face. “I know. We'll just try later. I promise. Alright?” he said.

“Okay,” I said, huffing in slight frustration. Terry tapped me on the butt before walking off.

I silently finished washing the dishes and cleaning the rest of the kitchen.

I turned to see Terry sitting on the couch, staring out the window. The rain was pouring. I knew it wasn't going to slow down any time soon. My mood was instantly dampened.

“You know when we were kids the rain used to ruin our whole day. Now, I can stare at it for hours,” Terry said, leaning back with his arm over the couch.

“Didn't we all? I used to hate it because of my hair. Well, that and I couldn't run fast enough. I always got wet no matter how hard I tried,” I said, leaning against the counter.

“What you mean?” he asked, looking over at me.

“Terry, I been big my whole life. Imagine my thick, clumsy ass running through the ran. I got so tired of getting my ass beat for ruining school clothes because I slipped and fell somehow. After a while, I just stopped trying. I'd rather be wet than dirty,” I laughed.

“Damn. So, you really have always been clumsy? Here I was thinkin’ it was me making you nervous. That's kinda disappointing,” he said, pouting and sticking out his bottom lip.

“Terrence Richmond, I know damn well you aren't pouting. So, you really don't like the fact that I'm not swoonin’ over yo’ ass. Get the fu—,” I said before Terry's eyes cut to me. He raised his eyebrow as a warning. I raised my hands as a sign of an apology.

“I see we still got some work to do when it comes to that mouth of yours,” Terry said, glaring at me.

“What?! I caught it. I didn't even say the last one. How are you still mad? I’m a work in progress, remember?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Roll’em again. Go ahead! You really been tryin’ me today, love. You want Daddy's attention, huh?” he asked, laughing at me.

“Nope, I could care less. Sorry,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Terry instantly rose from the couch. I knew better than to stay where I was. He was much faster than me, in every aspect of the word.

“Don't even think about runnin’!” Terry commanded.

I took off towards the hallway, sprinting into his bedroom. I slammed the door behind me. I locked it right when his hand began twisting the doorknob.

“Ah ha! Gotta be quicker than that!” I yelled, giggling like a child. I stood in the middle of the room, holding my stomach from laughing so hard.

Before I could even celebrate my small victory, the door swung open. Terry's large frame came around the door like a prowling lion.

“You gotta remember I'm an ex-Marine, love. This silly lil’ lock ain't stoppin' shit,” he said, turning around to lock the door again.

“Oh, come on. There's no way. You couldn't let me win this one time?” I said, folding my arms. I began to walk backward into the room.

Terry was quiet. His posture resembled a stalking predator, and I was more than prey. I had unknowingly trapped myself in a fuckin' room with a damn savage— a deviant. The back of my thighs hit the bed.

“Terry…” I whined, sitting on the bed. I began scooting to the center of the bed.

“Nahhh, what's wrong? Scared?” he asked standing in front of me.

He climbed on the bed and positioned himself between my legs. He used his knees to push mine apart. He grabbed the back of my thighs and pulled me closer to him. I squealed out in content.

“Would you stop? You psychopath!” I yelled, trying to push Terry away.

“Nah, let's have fun!” Terry said, sliding his hands under my gown.

I instantly thought his hands would go to my breasts or pussy, but they didn't. This fuckin’ bastard was tickling me! His hands were all over my body, torturing me and sending me into a fit of laughter. Tears were prickling my eyes, causing my vision to blur. Terry’s large frame became nothing more than a shadow as he hovered over me.

“You done?” he asked, gripping the collar of my gown in a closed fist.

I looked away from his face. I was trying to buy myself time to breathe.

Terry gripped my collar tighter, “Oh, you don't wanna talk?” he said, leaning on top of me.

His hands were back on me as his lips kissed my neck. My laughing was the only thing that could be heard throughout the apartment. Besides low muffled grunts and shallow breathing, Terry wasn't making a sound. His sole mission was to tickle me to death. I don't know what was worse, his hands or lips, but unbeknownst to him, this was setting off a fire that I wasn't sure we could stop. With every kiss, I craved more. Luckily, the intensifying yearning for more than a quick kiss was fizzled out by the enjoyment of the present moment. I felt like a kid— a happy one.

I screamed as loud as I could. Terry's hand flew over my mouth. “That's not nice! We have neighbors,” he said, kissing my cheek.

“Please!” I yelled through his hand.

Terry removed his hand from my mouth. “What you say? I ain't hear ya’, mama,” he said, kissing my lips.

“Please! I have to pee! If I piss myself, imma make sure I piss on you. Then again, that might be a kink for yo’ nasty ass!” I said lifting my leg between us.

“We don't kink shame in this house, ‘Vana, especially considering what you had me doin',” he said, grabbing my leg. He pushed the back of my thigh so my knee was in my chest.

“Oh, stop it. You act like that was the wildest thing ever. You sure weren't complainin’ when you had me on that barn floor wit’ my ass in the air,” I said, squirming underneath him.

“Oh, you wanna be a smartass. Unh unh, stop movin'!” he said, pressing me deeper into the mattress.

“Terry, I have to pee! Please, we can continue this lil’ game right after, honey. Just give me a break,” I begged. If I didn't get up in the next minute, I was going to soak this bed and not in a “good” way.

“Fine!” Terry said, letting me up.

“THANK YOU!” I said, flying off the bed. I ran to the bathroom, feeling like I wouldn't make it.

After relieving myself, I entered back into the bedroom. Quickly scanning the room, I realized Terry was nowhere to be found.

“Terry?!” I yelled.

“I'm in here!” he yelled from the living room.

I walked out of the bedroom and into the hallway. As I rounded the corner to the living room, Terry stood in the doorway. He was leaning to the side with his shoulder pressed against the doorframe.

The smell of rain flooded my nostrils— salty and fresh. I've always loved the smell of rain, especially when I was a little girl. It reminded me of the summers I spent in the country.

“I remember when I was younger, my brothers and I would get suited up in our raincoats and boots just to play in the rain. Mama hated it with a passion. She used to complain about how hard the mud was to get out of our clothes. Daddy, on the other hand, he’d just say we were boys bein’ boys. Hell, he’d even encourage it. I miss those days. Days when we didn't give a damn about how we looked or what we were doin’. We just did the shit— without a care in the world,” Terry said.

Terry’s shoulders dropped as if his memories began to weigh him down. I walked up behind him, letting my hands wrap around his waist. I hugged him tightly. I felt his body shake softly from a silent laugh.

“You know… sometimes, as adults, we care too much. Who gives a fu.. I mean, who cares what other people think?” I asked, pressing my body into Terry’s.

“Mama, we too grown for that kinda stuff, now,” Terry said, laughing somberly.

I paused for a minute, falling victim to my own poignant thoughts.

Had we really become that displaced from happiness? Why was it so hard for adults to indulge— in joy, playfulness, and excitement? Grown-ass adults who were so afraid of being called childish that we were denying ourselves the simplicity of pleasure and gratification through laughter and smiles. We were victims to the parameters of supposed “free will”— an idea of free will that was bastardized by the voices and perceptions of others.

Fuck that! If Terry wanted rain, Terry was gonna get it!

I released my arms from around Terry, grabbing his hand. I pulled him towards the top of the stairs.

“Havana Rose!” Terry yelled.

“Don’t… Just trust me,” I said as we slowly descended the wet stairs. (Apartment exterior)

Rushing from the second floor to the first, I didn't want to give Terry any time to overthink. I pulled him into the rain, praying he would enjoy this moment.

“Babygirl!” Terry said, attempting to shield himself from the pouring rain.

“Just enjoy it, baby. Who gives a… who gives a fuck, huh?” I said, spinning around in the rain.

Terry let his head fall back on his shoulders. I stopped to watch this moment. He raised his arms above his head, reaching for the rain. Finally! He was letting himself be a kid again. His head slowly dropped to look at me. The biggest smile I had ever seen was plastered on his face. A smile so wide that it caused his eyes to close.

“That’s my baby,” I whispered to myself. I was seeing Terry through a completely different lens.

Terry lunged towards me, picking me up. He tossed me over his shoulder and began spinning me around. His laughter booming through the air around us.

“Terry!” I yelled out in laughter.

“WHO CARES, REMEMBER?!” Terry yelled back through the rain.

Putting me down, Terry pulled me into his body. My chin rested against his chest. He grabbed my face in his hands, drawing me closer to him. His gaze was piercing and intense.

“I love you, Havana Rose. Do you understand me? I love you with all my fuckin’ heart, and don't you ever forget that!” he avowed passionately.

I stood there, taking in every word like my life depended on it. Terry would have seen the tears streaming down my face if it wasn’t raining. I wish he could see how much his words were affecting me.

“I love you, too!” I said, jumping into his arms.

My legs wrapped around his waist. Our eyes were locked into a gaze that encompassed a million emotions— love, happiness, passion, lust. My hands went to the back of Terry’s head. His lips met mine in what felt like a kiss orchestrated by Cupid, himself.

We stayed right there in the rain and in love, for what seemed like hours. Kissing and loving on each other like two naive children, unaware of the world around them.

“Y’all gone be sick as dogs out there!” yelled Mrs. Geraldine, Terry’s next-door neighbor.

We pulled away from each other, laughing at her statement. Terry slowly put me down. My feet sloshed in a small puddle beneath me.

“Alright, babygirl. I think Mrs. Geraldine is right. We need to head inside and get you warm, mama. I don't want my baby sick,” he said, picking me up bridal style.

“Oh!” I squealed.

Terry carried me to the bottom of the stairs. I tried to get out of his grasp.

“What you doin'? I got this, lil’ mama. Sit tight,” he said, ascending the stairs carefully. He took his time with each step, handling me like a delicate flower or a small child.

I looked into Terry's eyes, getting lost in the different hues. I had looked in his eyes many times before, but none of those times ever felt like this one. It was as if I was committing every detail to memory. I never wanted to forget how his eyes looked right now— sparkling and wild.

Terry's eyes looked down to mine. “I can't focus wit’ you lookin’ at me like that,” he chuckled.

“I can't help it. You look so… so… so damn pretty. You're one gorgeous man, y’know?” I said, playing with his ear.

He moved his head away. “Ah, here you go with that! Leave my damn ears alone!” Terry rasped through gritted teeth.

“No,” I said stroking both of them.

“Get down! I'm not finna play wit’ you!” he said, putting me down at the doorway.

Walking into the apartment, I was hit by a harsh chill that sent a shudder down my spine.

“Go get out of those clothes and warm up,” Terry said, pushing me on my behind. I swear this man treats me like a child.

“What about you?” I asked, turning back towards the door.

“I'm coming right behind you, mama. I promise,” he said, grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it.

“Better be,” I said, taunting him as I turned around.

And once again like clockwork…

smack

His hand lands right across my ass. How didn't I see that coming?

“Ow, I'm starting to think you just like spanking me,” I said as I rubbed my stinging ass.

“Yeah, I do. It's something ‘bout that recoil and the sound. Ouu… dear sweet Jesus, it drives me crazy,” he exclaimed with joy.

“You're a sadist. You're a fuckin' sadist. Terrence Richmond is a goddamn…,” I started before Terry picked me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

“That's it! That mouth is too loose today. You don't know when to quit, huh?” he asked, rubbing me on my ass. I was beginning to anticipate another spanking.

Unfortunately, his phone rang. He turned around suddenly with me still over his shoulder, thrashing me around.

“Whoa! I don't think I like this ride anymore,” I said through laughter.

“Sorry, love. Here,” he said putting me down. “Go ahead. I'll be right behind ya,” he said, kissing my forehead.

I simply nodded my head yes and began to walk towards the room. Once I was in the bedroom, I walked over to the laundry basket and began pulling off my wet clothes.

“Babygirl, change of plans. I gotta make a quick run to the site. They’re havin’ a problem. I’m sorry!” he yelled from the living room.

“Okay. Be safe. Love you!” I yelled over my shoulder.

“Love you more, mama. I’ll be right back,” Terry said as I heard the front door open and close.

With that, I decided to take a hot shower to warm myself up and relax while Terry was gone.

Taglist: @brattyfics @persethegawd @kimuzostar @avoidthings @5headsupremacist @insidefeelingofanadult @creartivefairy @kirayuki22 @nayaesworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ariiijestertheklown @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @jimmybutlrr

@gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo @skyesthebomb @blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @keyaho @pocketsizedpanther @sageispunk

@charismablu @4ftwonder @4pfsukuna @writingsbytee @babybratzmaraj @pinkpantheris @honeytoffee @talkswithdesi

@onherereading @blyffe @beenathembo @helloncrocs @thiccc-c @lovey-3

@curvyambitions @iburias @geee3bayyybeee3 @episodes-ff @ineedmyaccountback @rebelrel0987

[multific]

Saved Him

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: When news came to you about Chrissy's death, you wondered just why she was with your boyfriend at the time. You knew he had a crush on her a while back but Eddie swore he was over her because he liked you.

A Satanist?

A cultist?

A murderer?

Your Eddie?

No.

These people were just blinded by rage and fear. 

Jason was also blind.

And fucking dumb.

He claims he saw things. Which you don't deny, but it wasn't Eddie's doing. And you knew that better than anyone.

You have been his friend since middle school, and his girlfriend for the last 2 years. You knew him better than anyone. 

You knew about his struggles, hobbies, friends, and favourite places. You knew everything.

And you also had a feeling about where to find him.

Skull Rock.

You followed the kids there and surely enough, there he was.

"Eddie?" 

"Y/N!" he rushed to you, hugging you. "I didn't do any of that."

"I know." you hugged him tighter. "I know you didn't." you smiled as you pulled back and he kissed you. 

The same kiss he always gave you when you felt bad, to calm you, to encourage you, to show you that he loves you.

But this kiss was also filled with fear.

You heard the others groan as Dustin spoke. 

"We don't have time for this."

You had a lot of catch-up to do. And you couldn't wait for an explanation. 

But now, for now, you were just happy to have your Eddie back.

Later, as everyone was getting ready, you watched Dustin and Eddie bond before he came over to you.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked and you looked into his eyes.

"I understand the nightmares come from Vecna, I understand how miserable it must be to have such nightmares. What I don't get is why was she at your place?"

"Is that really all you can think about when we are heading to death?"

You looked at him with no emotion on your face, but your eyes said every word your mouth refused. 

He let out a sigh and grabbed your hands into his.

"I do not, did not love Chrissy. She wanted to put her mind at ease because of the nightmares. I only wanted to help her."

"But you get it how it looks? Do you know how many times I have Jason tell me that his girlfriend was with my boyfriend when she died? Do you know the whispers and looks I got?"

"Why do you care so much about what people say?"

"Because they are telling me that you cheated on me. That you don't love me and it fucking hurts, Eddie." you tried your best not to raise your voice, the others don't need to hear your argument.

"But I do love you and I would never cheat on you, Darling."

"I know. This is why I feel like I'm being pulled into two pieces. One part of me understands and knows that you love me. The other is extremely jealous and furious."

"No need for you to be jealous, My Love." he lifted and kissed the back of your hand. "I promise, I only love you."

"I love you too Eddie." the sincere look in his eyes helped you calm down the rising storm.

---

Eddie was being attacked when you let out a yell. To save his life, you needed the attention of those flying things.

"HEY YOU DUMB THINGS FOLLOW ME!" you yelled and it got their attention. "Dustin! Help Eddie!" you yelled as you ran away. 

You managed to lock yourself into a car hoping those things would give up.

But as they banged on the windows and doors of the car, you weren't so sure you would survive.

One moment later, it all stopped.

All banging, all screaming, everything just stopped.

It took you a couple of minutes to get out of the car, you looked for Eddie and Dustin and you soon found them in the trailer. You rushed over to Eddie and hugged him.

"You saved me." he said. "Thank you." he tightened his grip as you let out a long sigh of relief.

He was alive.

He was fine.

He was holding you.

"I love you." 

He loved you.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[httpiastri]

drivers as the type of boyfriends to…

f1 masterlist || f2/f3 masterlist || blurb masterlist

a/n: to celebrate f2 race week <333 guys we made it! we survived 284947 weeks without f2!!! hope you enjoy 💓

…wash your hair for you

you're either tired from a bunch of long days at work, or you've been sick for a while now, and you just cannot find the energy to properly wash your hair. don't you worry – your perfect boyfriend is here to save the day! telling you to just sit back against the tub, lean your head against the edge and relax, and he'll do the rest. you still have to instruct him about which products to use, but he listens carefully and makes sure to do everything exactly as you say. except for the fact that he adds some extra scalp massages, since he's very aware of how much you love it when he plays with your hair.

paul aron, marcus armstrong, clement novalak

…help you with your makeup and skincare after a night out

it's been a long night at some motorsports gala, and although he had a lovely time and loves these kinds of events, there's nothing he'd rather do than just jump into bed and cuddle his dearest. especially when you clearly feel the same way, having fallen asleep on his shoulder in the taxi on the way to his apartment. but after carrying you inside and placing you down gently on the bed, he realizes – you've still got your makeup on. he knows how important it is for you to be careful about your skincare, how much you complain about breakouts and such if you don't remove your makeup before bed, so he knows he has to help you. he knows how to use the makeup wipes, and he rubs your skin so gently as to not wake you up, but for the rest of the products… he kind of has to freestyle. some cleansing toner, some kind of serum; he really tries to rack his brain to remember everything you've told him – but he's a little too drunk to do it perfectly. however, it's the thought and effort that matters.

pepe marti, jak crawford, arthur leclerc, alex albon

…learn every little detail about you

he may seem carefree or like he's too chill to care, but in reality, there's no one as attentive as him. he knows precisely what you need for every day of your period; when you need a heating pad, when you need chocolate and ice cream, when you need extra cuddles and caring, when you need the chores taken care of, etc. he knows how you want to be treated after a long day at work/school, he knows your schedule inside and out, and he knows what you want for your birthday or christmas way before you realize it yourself (he figures it out because he knows you so well). he knows your twenty coffee orders – the morning coffee, the pre-work order, the friday special, and so on – and he knows how happy it makes you when he orders coffee for you in surprise, so he never forgets to do just that. he knows how to soothe your worries, ease your anxiety, calm you down. and he knows exactly how to make you the happiest you've ever been – and that's his goal for every day he spends on this planet.

oscar piastri, jack doohan, dennis hauger

…fall so easily for your jokes and pranks (only because he cares so much about you)

this boy is the most gullible person ever; he falls for everything you try to pull on him. try to joke that you're upset that he spends a lot of time with a female coworker? he won't leave your side for the next week, always holding you close and pressing kisses to your cheek whenever she's around so you know who it is he loves. pretend like you're sick so he'll cancel his plans with his friends? he will stay home, cook you his mom's special soup, buy you all of the sweets in the world, and then stick by your side for the rest of the night. pretend like you forgot his birthday and ignore him on it so you can throw him a surprise party with all of his friends and family? he gets heartbroken, thinks he's done something terrible and just wants to make up with you (and forgets about his own birthday, just wanting to reconcile with you). he will do anything you trick him into, and will react like everything is a huge deal, just because he loves you too much (and thinks you would never lie to him – "they love me too much to trick me", he assumes).

lando norris, franco colapinto, luke browning

…learn everything about your hair so he can help out

no matter your hair type, he's learning everything there is to know about it. if it's naturally straight, he learns how to make heatless curls so you don't have to hurt your neck doing them on yourself. if it's more wavy, he knows how to bring out the natural waves in them and how to make it look extra good – or tone down the waves if that's what you want. and if it's curly, he knows just what products you should use and when, and he doesn't mind even the slightest when you ask him to help out. he learns to brain your hair, dye it, style it; you often find him watching youtube tutorials on how to do certain things, or he comes out of nowhere to give you tips on things he just happened to read online. all just to make you feel comfortable and bring a little weight off your shoulders, because he understands how exhausting it can be for you to have to tend to your hair every single day.

jak crawford, ollie bearman, liam lawson

...encourage all your passions and obsessions

every one of your obscure hobbies and hyperfixations, he too automatically loves too. doesn't matter if it's about collecting vinyl records, crocheting little animals, cosplaying – he's all in. he helps you look for supplies, listens when you ramble, and just helps out in any way he can (or you'll let him). it gets to a point where he too gets really interested in it, no matter what it's about. when he sees a certain thing connected to your passion at the paddock or when out with friends, he instantly stops and gets so happy – before he realizes that it's your obsession, not his. he can't help but to squeal a little on the inside nonetheless.

franco colapinto, marcus armstrong

...be the best listener ever

this guy loves to listen – especially if you're the one who's talking. it doesn't matter what time it is, how tired he is, or what it's about; he's all ears. if you're upset, whether a frustrating situation at work/school, a deep existential crisis or a nonsensical tangent about a fictional character, he will be there to listen. he sits next to you on the couch, makes you some tea, cuddles up real close under a blanket and listens with genuine interest. not only is he a great listener, but he also gives real good advice if that's what you need. but if you just need to vent, he's the perfect place, too.

pepe marti, oscar piastri

…dance with you in the living room for no reason at all

he may not be much of a dancer, but when a song he loves (or he knows you love) comes on, he grabs your hand without a second thought. it doesn't matter if he's clumsy, if he can't find the rhythm or if you were both busy with something prior to this – his only goal is to make you laugh and feel loved. goofy routines to some up-tempo pop hit, or a slow sway to a romantic ballad; the living room floor is your very own dance floor. and even if you don't particularly enjoy dancing by yourself, you will learn to love it with him, since every spin and twirl is a way for him to communicate just how much he adores you.

clement novalak, daniel ricciardo, charles leclerc

...turn everything into a competition

brushing your teeth? he will need to find out who can finish faster. cooking dinner? he must chop the vegetables quicker and more perfectly than you. folding laundry? he'll be done first (but probably mess it up a bit). (texting each other when he's away racing? he must be the last one to say goodnight every night, and he insists that he loves you more than you love him, that's just the way it is.) it isn't only to make the mundane tasks more fun – it's also because he really wants to see you laugh, to see your eyes light up with joy at the way he makes a fool of himself while trying to take a super quick shower. he definitely lets you win sometimes, but only to see how happy you look (even though he adores the pout you put on when you lose).

paul aron, arthur leclerc, lando norris

…want to be a part of your family so badly

oh, there's nothing he wants more than to be loved and accepted by your family. it's his biggest wish. he wants to be like an older brother to your younger siblings, always playing around with them during the day but also making sure to be the responsible one and help out at night, tucking them in and reading them bedtime stories. with your parents, he does his best to always be completely respectful and proper – though he does find it a bit of a relief when he finally reaches that stage when he and them get comfortable and close. he adores the way your aunts and uncles treat him just like anyone else at family parties, and he's obsessed with the sound of your grandparents telling him what a "sweet and perfect young gentleman" he is. all of this just because he believes that if he one day is going to start a family with you, he needs to first be a part of the one you already have.

jack doohan, ollie bearman, luke browning

[sleepyowlet]

Ah, yeah! That makes a lot of sense! The Grimm collection is pretty German-centric. There is some French and Italian influence, but since they couldn't really be arsed to credit their sources (we know some people who told them fairytales but individual stories often aren't credited to individual people), we will never know if they re-wrote some French and Italian Kunstmärchen (I have no idea how to say that in English, basically, those stories with a specific author rather than oral tradition) or if those Kunstmärchen were inspired by pre-existing oral-tradition tales, or if people got a hold of those Kunstmärchen and re-told them and in doing so, changed them ("Cinderella" is such a case - we just don't fucking know). The French influence might also come about because one of their sources, one Dorothea Viehmann, came from a Huguenot family.

It's a bit of a chicken-or-egg problem.

There is also quite a bit of condescension going on in how they treated the material - sure, they thought it was worth preserving, but they sure did a lot of cleaning up of the sex and the violence to make them palatable to polite society. Which is why I would also really like to know where the fuck OP got that take from!

It's difficult to talk about this in English because I find that people generally don't differentiate between Volksmärchen (oral-tradition fairy tales like "Snow White"), Kunstmärchen (authored fairy tales like "The Little Mermaid") and Sagen (legends with a fixed time and space).

Also, OP probably never heard of Wilhelm Hauff - now he wrote some grade-A nightmare fuel! There is also an entire genre of folk song called "Küchenlieder" (songs of the kitchen) which are just plain gory and blood-curdling more often than not. But because they're full of sex and violence (and sexual violence; "young girl gets violated and then tragically dies" is a very common trope), they remained very much a lower-class thing.

And yes please, I'd love to have the link to the paper! I find the history of storytelling as a window into the human condition deeply fascinating!

I enjoy a joke about fucked up German fairy tales as much as the next nerd, but it's genuinely striking how often the source for the really fucked up stuff turns out to be "yeah, this is only in the Brothers Grimm version and doesn't appear in any extant oral tradition, and we're like 80% sure they added it themselves". To a large extent it's not German fairy tales that are fucked up, it's two specific German dudes.