#several people were excited for this second part
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Truth or Dare, part 2
Continued from this post, inspired by a prompt by @kedreeva
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Eddie watches Robin jump up to chase after her best friend. Everyone else is left staring, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. It makes his skin itch.
He exhales into his cupped palm and takes an exaggerated sniff. “Guess I shouldn’t have had those onions for lunch, huh?”
It doesn’t get much of a laugh. With a shrug, he drops back down to his place on the floor, folding his long legs underneath him. He feels off-balance, caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting Steve to react that badly.
He plucks at his jeans, worrying the frayed edge of the hole over his right knee, and chances a glance at Gareth. His friend is staring at him with one eyebrow raised pointedly, as if to say See? I told you so.
Which is true. Gareth has been trying to convince him to stay away from Steve Harrington ever since the first day he walked into Eddie’s hospital room and found the other boy sitting by his bedside. Eddie slouches, shoulders curling inward as he looks away. The hole in his jeans starts to unravel a little wider.
Vickie looks uncomfortable. “Should we go after them?”
Gareth snorts rudely. Jeff, ever the peacekeeper, shoots him a warning look and says, “I think maybe we should keep playing. I’m sure they’ll come back when they’re ready.”
The only one that comes back is Robin, sliding into her place in the circle with downcast eyes. Vickie leans over to whisper something in her ear, and Robin shakes her head. She’s clearly upset.
“Steve just had a, uh… migraine. It came on really quickly, so he had to go home.”
She is such a bad liar.
They try to keep playing a few more rounds, but nobody’s heart is in it anymore. Claire is the first to leave, muttering goodbye to Vickie and ignoring the rest of them. It’s pretty clear she was only suffering their presence to try and get close to Steve.
Good riddance, Eddie thinks with a sneer. He’d barely restrained himself from dumping punch all over the presumptuous little flute player. She really had some nerve - allll the girls had a crush on King Steeeeeve…
Nauseating.
Vickie makes a show of checking her watch next. “I guess it is getting late. My mom wanted me home by 11.”
“Yeah, we should go too,” Eddie says. He waves goodbye to the girls and heads for the door at a fast clip, the rest of the guys following without question.
It seems cooler outside, away from the press of bodies and the stifling air – thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. Eddie takes a deep breath. Someone’s been smoking nearby, which makes him crave a cigarette of his own.
“I don’t think we should drive yet,” Jeff says. “That punch was pretty strong. Why don’t we walk down to the diner and get some fries?”
It’s a good idea, so they set off down the sidewalk. Gareth waits for Dave and Jeff to pull ahead a little before drifting close enough to nudge Eddie’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry about that man. I really hoped he would prove me wrong, but…”
Eddie nods, fishing the crumpled pack of Camels out of his back pocket. Steve’s not the guy Eddie thought he was – it’s disappointing, to say the least. If that was his reaction to kissing a guy on a dare, then god knows how he would respond if he ever found out Eddie’s gay.
“Yeah,” he mumbles as he clamps a cigarette between his lips, patting his pockets for his lighter.
“But hey, at least you know he’s not worth your time now, right? Better to find out before you fell ass over tits and got your heart broken.”
Too late for that Gare-bear… too late for that.
“Sure.”
Eddie smokes his cigarette, avoiding any further conversation. When they reach the diner, he orders some cheese fries, picking off the crispy bits of cheese before he starts shoving food around the plate to make it look like he’s eating. The guys chat about band practice and the summer D&D campaign, but Eddie doesn’t have much to add.
He keeps replaying the Truth or Dare game in his head. He’s positive he didn’t let anything slip. Eddie is an experienced DM – he’s good at controlling his expressions. He never gives anything away when his players do something to throw him off guard; and he’s sure he didn’t give anything away tonight. So it can’t be his inconvenient crush that made Steve uncomfortable.
Everything was lighthearted and casual… and Steve seemed okay with it at first. Shit, the way he was staring at Eddie’s mouth and licking his lips, it almost seemed like he was into it. Eddie nearly lost it at that point – he had to cover by pretending to swoon when he felt himself start to blush.
Then Eddie moved in for the actual kiss, and Steve pushed him away. He looked at Eddie with this… awful expression on his face and said he couldn’t do it.
Eddie assumed at the time that Steve lost his nerve and got grossed out. But when he pictures the look on Steve’s face in that moment, it doesn’t seem right. What was that expression?
The guys finish up and they all pay for their food. Gareth is clearly still concerned, shooting worried little glances his way as they walk, so Eddie stays between Jeff and Dave on the way back to the cars.
He appreciates his friend’s concern, and he knows Gareth means well, but he really just wants to go home and lick his wounds in private.
Eddie makes it to his van and takes off while Jeff and Gareth are debating whose turn it is to drive Dave home. He cranks the stereo louder than usual, trying to drown out his thoughts with some Black Sabbath, singing along until his voice cracks. His ears are still ringing a little when he creeps into the silent house, navigating by the light Wayne left on in the kitchen.
With the money from the government payout, his uncle doesn’t have to work nights anymore – which means for the first time in his life, Eddie has to be careful not to wake the old man up when he comes home late. He kicks off his Reeboks at the door and tiptoes up the stairs, skipping the creaky step.
He goes through his nighttime routine on autopilot: brushing his teeth, massaging lotion into all his scars, and braiding back his hair. To prevent split ends - a tip he got from Steve “the Hair” Harrington himself (Eddie can’t escape him – thoughts of Steve permeate every aspect of his life at this point).
He changes into an old pair of pajama pants and flops onto the bed, arms and legs stretched out like a starfish. Sleep, he thinks, shutting his eyes firmly. Sleep, sleep, sleep.
Thirty minutes later, he’s still staring up at his shadowed ceiling.
Steve looked… sad. That’s what it was. He looked sad and pained when he said, “I can’t do this.” And he said something else…
Not like this.
Not like this? But that… would imply it was the situation that was the problem. Right? Not the kissing.
“Holy shit!” Eddie yelps, sitting upright so fast his side twinges. He claps a hand over his mouth to prevent any further outbursts.
He assumed the worst, because that’s what he always does – better to be prepared then disappointed; that’s been his motto for years. But Steve didn’t storm off because he was homophobic.
He wanted to kiss Eddie! He must have – just not in front of all their friends. Not as part of a game, or as a joke.
Eddie jumps out of bed and starts to pace, filled with a restless, almost manic energy. He’s worried about Steve - wishing he’d gone after the other boy right away, at the party. Is he still upset? He looked upset.
Eddie considers the phone – he even picks up the receiver and starts to dial Steve’s number, before he gets a grip and hangs up. It’s 2 o’clock in the morning, he can’t call this late; Steve would probably panic and assume someone had been hurt.
When he can’t take it anymore, Eddie decides to go for a drive. He grabs Wayne’s keys instead of his own – the truck is quieter than his old rattletrap of a van, and less conspicuous. He drives aimlessly, taking random side-streets and circling cul-de-sacs; only to wind up in front of Steve’s house.
There are lights on inside.
Eddie pulls into the driveway and parks the truck. He contemplates the house for a while, nearly changing his mind twice before he finally gets out and makes his way to the front door. He knocks – not too loudly, just in case Steve is sleeping (even though the lights are on).
It takes less than a minute for Steve to come to the door; long enough for Eddie to realize he’s still in his pajamas – too fast for him to chicken out and run back to the truck.
Steve looks exhausted: his hair is messier than Eddie’s ever seen it before, and the soft skin around his eyes appears swollen and tender. It hurts Eddie’s heart to see it.
Steve watches him cautiously. “Eddie? What are you doing here – is everything okay?”
“You said… not like this,” Eddie says abruptly. He cringes at the blunt approach – he’s usually better at thinking on his feet than this.
“Eddie…”
“I just want to understand Steve. Please? What did you mean?”
Steve gnaws at his bottom lip before sighing heavily. “I like you Eddie. Like, romantically. I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks now. But I couldn’t do it… if it wasn’t for real.” He drags his hands roughly through his hair, mussing it up even more. “I’m so tired of being King Steve – pretending like meaningless sex and drunk make outs are enough, falling in love with people who don’t love me back… I can’t do it anymore.”
Eddie is reeling. He doesn’t know what to focus on first. Steve likes him? Romantically?! And he’s wanted to kiss him for weeks. Eddie might need to sit down.
Steve is chewing at his lip again – he’ll draw blood if he keeps it up. He looks so hesitant, so uncharacteristically insecure.
Because you’re standing here like an idiot after he spilled his heart out to you, Eddie thinks. Say something!
“Steve… Truth or Dare.”
“What?”
“Pick one.”
Steve looks like he’s thinking about shutting the door in Eddie’s face. Finally he says, “Truth,” in a grudging tone.
According to the game, Eddie should ask Steve a question. But Steve has been truthful enough tonight – it’s Eddie’s turn now.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you a lot longer than just a few weeks. Probably since I saw you tear that demobat apart. But it was in the hospital - when you came to visit every day, looking after me and Max and the rest of the kids – I think that’s when I fell in love.”
The tiniest little, “Oh,” escapes Steve’s mouth. Eddie has a few seconds to worry that the love confession was too much - and then a smile replaces Steve’s look of shock, dawning bright and beautiful.
There’s no more pretense required when they come together, lips meeting softly.
Eddie is so glad that Steve stopped him at the party. Because now they have this moment, this perfect moment – standing in the silvered dark, two souls alone together under the moon. He gets to enjoy the warm press of Steve’s lips against his without any prying eyes or teasing; gets to slide his fingers daringly under the hem of Steve’s thin sleep shirt.
Steve breaks the kiss with a gasp of laughter when Eddie hits a ticklish spot just below his ribs. They pause to smile at one another, foreheads pressed together.
“Truth or Dare,” Steve says.
“Well, truth has been a pretty good choice so far…”
Steve reaches up to press a gentle palm against Eddie’s cheek, scraping his thumb over the stubble. “I love you too.”
Truth or Dare is officially Eddie’s new favorite game.
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Tag list (I tried to include everyone that requested a tag - apologies if I missed anyone)
@manycoloureddays @vecnuthy @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @proficientatfreakness @sadcanadianwinter @farfaras @makewavesandwar @grtwdsmwhr @xwildangel @electrick-marionnett @swimmingbirdrunningrock
#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington/eddie munson#my writing#several people were excited for this second part#I really really hope I didn’t let anyone down#😬🫣
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i love people's willingness to get hype over dumb shit.
I was driving home today and pull up to a light. As i'm slowing down i 👁️👁️ lock 👁️👁️ eyes with the dude in the car next to me. I spring into action, this is the moment I've been waiting for.
Now, something you must know about me is I drive around with several small plastic 🦀crabs 🦀 on my dashboard, One: for the whimsy of it all and two: on the off chance i encounter another driver who i think could benefit from witnessing them.
This young gentleman was one such someone.
As i pull up, as previously stated, our eyes lock and I hold up
one☝️ finger☝️
Perplexed by my unprompted gesticulation, the young man rolls down his window, "what the devil could this perfect stranger be about to tell me?" he might have been thinking.
I present a singular dashboard crab, green and brown, homely but not without its charm.
I study his reaction, grinning encouragingly. He's nodding, obviously intrigued by my plasticine crustacean.
I wag my finger and shake my head, removing the crab from view. Confusion again, but he leans forward, invested. I have him now.
I grab my second dashboard crab, a rotund white and brown crab, easily the most beautiful of my crabs as it sports large discernible claws of an attractive size and silhouette.
✌️ TWO ✌️ i tell him.
He's cheering now, and rightly so, as these are delightful little beasts that anyone would be happy to encounter. But now comes the clincher, time to seal the deal.
My finger wags once more. He's awestruck, I have him completely enraptured. If a car had come and smeared us both into the pavement we would not have noticed, so wrapped up in my display were we.
I bring out my showstopper: a bright pink spider crab with delicately long legs the likes of which had never before nor since been seen in mid afternoon traffic.
As emphatically as i can express, I display all three of my dashboard crabs to this man, three fingers pressed triumphantly to the glass.
the guy is losing it in his car, mouth wide in what i assume to be a primal shout of crab derived excitement. His arms are pumping so vigorously its shaking his stationary vehicle.
We sit there, sharing in a moment of mutual jubilation, and then the light changes, and we move forward in line. He drives off, honking his horn in rapturous exultation,
and we part ways, exactly the same perhaps but changed nonetheless.
🦀
#nat chats#like i tell it very flowery but that's literally what happened#i wanna make a bumper sticker that just says “ask me about my crabs”#just so i can show people#og post
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cherry flavoured | sebastian vettel
sebastian vettel x reporter!reader
based on the video of iker casillas and his gf during the 2010 world cup
she’s a long one <3 this was finished at 2:30 AM so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes (please do not request for part 2)
Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2010
It was the last race of the season and you were nervous, especially for Sebastian. It was down to Fernando, Mark, Sebastian and Lewis, one of them was going to be them champion. It was your job to cover the race and conduct interviews before and after so this gave you a chance to speak with Sebastian and wish him luck. The media didn’t know about your relationship that had just become official a month ago.
Sebastian had asked you out before the Japanese Grand Prix. That day, you decided to make a deal with him. If he won, you would go to dinner with him. After 53 laps, Sebastian secured a win and a date with you.
While you finished up your interview with Lewis, Sebastian stood patiently to the side. He kept his eye on you, staring at how you talked with such confidence and passion. He loved how expressive you were, sometimes talking with your hands. After letting Lewis go so he could prepare for the race, it was Sebastian’s turn. He happily joined you.
“Hello Sebastian, how are you?” You asked, knowing already how he felt, but you had to do your job. The night before, you stayed in Sebastian’s room, that’s when he told you how nervous he was feeling.
“Good, excited, happy.” He replied, smiling at you.
“Well I won’t keep you here for very long—”
“Why not? I enjoy talking to you.” Sebastian interrupted. His smirk was making you weak and all you wanted was to drag him into a room and let him have his way with you, but you couldn’t at least not now.
Several questions later, Sebastian was still giving you that look making it hard for you to concentrate. It was the same look he gave you the night before when you and him were in his hotel room ripping each other’s clothes off.
“Alright, good luck Seb . . astian, sebastian sorry.” You apologized.
All Sebastian did was laugh at your mistake. Since nobody apart from Mark knew about your relationship, you couldn’t call him Seb. He nodded then mumbled an ‘I love you’ and left. You really hoped nobody could read his lips since you were still live.
You understood that Sebastian needed to concentrate before the race so you didn’t bother him. Soon, the race had started, almost instantly on lap 1, a crash happened. After the race restarted, you watched Sebastian keep his p1 position. When it came to the final lap, everyone was silent in the Red Bull garage where you were watching the race from. Sebastian crossed the finish line, but you still had to wait for the other four cars.
Lewis came in second then came Jenson. After confirming, it was clear that Sebastian had become world champion.
You and the team members of Red Bull made it to the podium ceremony. The German nation anthem played as Sebastian soaked in the moment. He had made history by becoming the youngest world champion. After the national anthem finished, he tried to look for you in the crowd. When he finally did, he winked at you. Again, he was making you feel all sorts of emotions.
After the podium celebrations and posing for photos, the three drivers had to do threat post race interviews. You were in charge of being the first to interview the new world champion.
In the media pen, Sebastian spotted you getting ready for your interview. When you were done, he walked up to you with the biggest smile on his face.
“Congratulations Sebastian. How was it up there on the podium?” You asked.
“It was a dream, but now it’s reality.” Sebastian replied. “I just wanna thank all the people that supported me and you of course, you’ve been there for me.”
You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Was Sebastian about to reveal your relationship?
“Well congratulations again, go celebrate this historic win—” Before you could finish your sentence, Sebastian placed both of his hands on your cheeks and brought you closer to him, placing a kiss on your lips. You could taste the champagne that had been poured of him by Jenson and Lewis. From the distance, Jenson cheered, making everyone turn their attention towards you and Sebastian.
Sebastian didn’t care that you were still live. All he wanted was to celebrate with his girlfriend. “I love you.” He mumbled against your lips. When he finally pulled away, he licked his lips. “Cherry, my favorite.” He smirked.
“You’re the worst.” You laughed. “I love you too, champ. Go, I’ll see you soon.” You practically had to push him away from you so you could continue with more interviews.
“I’ll wait for you!” He yelled as he walked away.
Then Jenson made his way to you since you were going to interview him next. “Do I get one as well?” He teased.
Of course you and Sebastian celebrated, how could you not? He had made history. After the famous kiss, you were sure that you were going to get fired, but nothing ever happened. You did get a warning to not do it again, which Sebastian reminded the FIA that it was his idea not yours resulting in him getting a warning too.
Over the years, you were there when Sebastian won, when he lost, when he moved to Ferrari. You comforted him when he realized he would never win a championship with Ferrari.
During the summer break of the 2019 season, you and Sebastian decided to get married. It was an intimate wedding with only close friends and family attending. The night of your wedding, Sebastian promised you that he would take you anywhere for a while so you could spend your honeymoon. Of course being an F1 driver and a reporter, it didn’t go as planned as a global pandemic hit. You assured Sebastian that you weren’t mad, you had traveled almost everywhere with him anyway.
After the 2020 season ended, Sebastian was now with Aston Martin. He had only secured one podium finish with the team, but you were still more than happy for him.
One day after media day had finished for the 2021 French Grand Prix, you and Sebastian were in the Aston Martin motorhome having lunch. You were talking about a new piece of furniture you wanted when your phone vibrated. You checked it and saw a picture of your friend’s baby that she had sent you.
“Look, remember my friend Jane? That’s her baby girl, aw she’s so adorable.” You showed Sebastian a picture of the baby. “I need to tell her to stop sending pictures or I might get baby fever.”
“It wouldn’t be such a bad thing, right?” Sebastian asked. “We’ve been together for eleven years, married for two.“
“I did always dream of being a mother. It would be fun to play dress up with our daughter or play with you cars with our son. Can you imagine that? They would call me mom . . holy shit.”
Sebastian thought about it. He was in his mid thirties, he already won four titles, that was enough for him.
“I guess this plays into what I’m about to talk to you next. . . I didn’t renew a contract for 2023 with sky sports.” You said.
“Are you going somewhere else?” He questioned.
“No, I didn’t sign anything with anyone. I just thought that it’s time for me to step back. Give someone younger their moment.” You replied. You made the decision a while ago even before the 2021 season started.
“But you love your job.”
“I can’t stay here forever, Seb.”
All day Sebastian had thought about your words. He couldn’t stay in formula 1 forever either. The younger generation had to have a go too.
At the end of the 2021 season, Sebastian had told you the news that he would be retiring at the end of the next season like you. You were sure him retiring was the result of your conversation, but he assured you that even before that he had considered retirement.
“So when are you going to announce it?” You asked.
“Soon. I want to enjoy winter break with you first.”
You and Sebastian spent the holidays in your home in Switzerland surrounded by family and friends. You weren’t even sure how it happened since you and Sebastian spent most of your time at home, but both of you ended up testing positive for covid. You assumed you contracted the virus when you went out for groceries.
The 2022 season had started and you and your husband were stuck at home quarantining. It wasn’t bad, it was just a normal day except you had medicine and empty tissue boxes scattered around the floor.
“Do you need another blanket, liebe?” Sebastian asked you. He touched your forehead feeling it not as hot as before.
You two were in your bedroom watching the Bahrain Grand Prix. You didn’t expect this to be the start of your last season, but at least you were with Sebastian.
“I’m okay, I’m thirsty though.” You sat up as Sebastian walked to the kitchen to get you a glass of water. Once he returned, he saw how sad you looked as you watch the race.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m going to miss it, but I’m happy that I get to be home with you.” You smiled weakly at him.
“We can visit whenever we want, liebe, and then one day we can visit with the kids.” Sebastian replied. “Here, drink.” He handed you the glass of water.
Soon enough, you and Sebastian were good to return back to the paddock. You felt refreshed and ready to officially start the season. You did your interviews, greeted your colleagues and then made your way to the Aston Martin garage where you were going to watch the race.
By lap 24, Sebastian was out. It broke your heart to see it, it was his first race back and he didn’t get a chance to finish it. He arrived back to the garage in a Marshall’s scooter making it a funny moment despite his dnf. He looked for you first.
“Are you okay?” You asked, running your hand through his messy hair.
“Good.” Was all that he said.
After doing some post race interviews, Sebastian waited for you in the Aston Martin motorhome. When you arrived, you noticed a plate of fruit and berries on the table. “I figured you didn’t get a break all day so eat. I made sure to get plenty of pineapple and strawberries.” He moved the plate closer to you.
“Thanks, it wasn’t that stressful today. Hopefully the next race is better for us.” You said once you sat down and started to eat the fruit. “No cherries today?”
“You and your cherries. Not today, liebe.” Sebastian grabbed a strawberry from the plate.
Eventually it was time to announce to the world of motorsports and media that Sebastian and you were retiring. You announced it first with a lengthy post on instagram with pictures of when you first started to now, you even posted the famous kiss that Sebastian gave you in 2010.
You received lots of comments and messages from family, friends and colleagues. It was nice to feel loved by them. The next day, it was Sebastian’s turn to announce his retirement. It started with him making an Instagram account then posting a video.
“I hereby announce my retirement from formula one by the end of the 2022 season.”
Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2022
You felt a giant wave of deja vu. Here you were back in Abu Dhabi only this time it would be the official last Grand Prix for you and Sebastian. You would still visit like Sebastian mentioned, but it wouldn’t feel the same.
You walked into the paddock with Sebastian holding your hand. You were greeted by photographers, fans that wanted to get pictures with Sebastian and several members of other teams that wanted to congratulate you and your husband on retirement.
First you went to the Aston Martin motorhome again since you were a bit tired. You sat at a table in the corner. For a couple of weeks now, you were keeping a secret from Sebastian. Your friend, Jane, was the only one who knew since she had gone through a similar experience.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sebastian asked as he noticed the tired look on you. “Want something to eat?”
“No I’m okay, I promise. It’s still too early for me to function I guess.” You dismissed it. “I’ll catch up with you later, I’m sure you have lots of people waiting for you.”
“They can wait. If you need me here then I’m staying, end of discussion.” He was about to sit down next to you, but you stopped him.
“Seb, no. I mean it, I am fine. Go.” You demanded.
Before he left, Sebastian placed a kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, he frowned. “Is that coconut? I thought you were going to wear the cherry one.”
“Change of plans.” You smiled. “Go, the team needs you.”
“Be careful, I’ll see you later.” He placed one more kiss on your lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” You reply as you watch Sebastian walk out. “I can just imagine how protective he’s going to be about you, baby.” You spoke to yourself as you looked down to your stomach.
You found out you were pregnant when Jane was visiting you in Switzerland. You had gone out to eat for brunch at a nice little restaurant. Immediately after arriving, the smell of eggs made you run to the nearest bathroom and vomit in the toilet. Jane had ran after you making sure you were okay.
“Fuck . . It’s the smell.” You confirmed.
“Babe, when was the last time you had your period?”
Jane’s question made you think back to your vacation with Sebastian a couple months ago. You and Sebastian couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.
After taking a pregnancy test, it was confirmed that you were pregnant. You called your doctor to schedule an appointment. Sebastian wasn’t home so you didn’t have to worry about him walking in on you holding a pregnancy test. You weren’t sure how you were going to tell him, but you knew that he would be the happiest man on earth.
You were assigned to interview Sebastian immediately after the race while on the track. You were told that it would be a special moment for you two seeing as you were both leaving. Apparently Sebastian didn’t know this so that was another secret kept from him.
Sebastian stood beside you as he got ready. You held his helmet, your name printed on the side in a small font. “Remember when I won back in 2010?”
“No, remind me again?” You joked. “Of course I do. It was the night you kissed me in front of thousands of people on live tv.”
“It would be a shame if we didn’t recreate that.” He teased. “You know . . . for historical reasons.”
“I don’t want to get in trouble on my last day.”
“You’re no fun.” Seb rolled his eyes playfully. “Kiss for good luck?”
You then kissed the top of his helmet and shoved it in his hands. “Good luck.” You were about to leave, but Sebastian grabbed your hand and brought you back to him. “Fine.” You kissed him as if your life depended on it.
“I was hoping you changed your lipgloss to cherry.” Mumbled Sebastian after pulling away from you.
“You’ll live.” You gave him a chaste kiss then waited for him to put his balaclava. “I love you and I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Soon, the race was starting. Sebastian had started from P9. It was an exciting and emotional race for you and Sebastian. You didn’t want it to end, but you knew that Sebastian’s time in f1 was over.
By the end of the 58 laps, Sebastian had scored his last point in formula 1. You were content with the result even if he only scored one point. You were then directed to the track with a camera man and microphone in hand. As Sebastian did donuts on the track, you took your phone out to record his last moments. When he finished, you put away your phone. You didn’t even notice you were crying until a marshal gave you a tissue.
You thanked him and cleaned up as Sebastian made his way out the car to wave at the fans. Eventually Sebastian made his way towards you without his helmet and his racing suit hanging from his waist. You couldn’t start the interview without hugging him first so that’s what you did. Like in 2010, the camera filmed you and Sebastian as you embraced. You could hear the crowd cheering.
“You did so well. You made me cry.” You mumbled as Sebastian kissed your temple.
“You look pretty when you cry.” He let go of you since you needed to start the interview. He fixed your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear.
“Sebastian, wow, first off congratulations on your incredible career.” You began.
“I don’t know what to say. I feel a bit empty to be honest, it’s been a big weekend.” He looked at the crowd who were sad to see him go. He gave a speech that made you cry even more, which you blamed on the hormones. “I can say that you were always with me in the bad times and good times. Thank you for sticking with me.”
“Always.” You said, completely forgetting you were holding the microphone so the whole audience heard you.
Sebastian then thanked the fans for the messages and support he’s been receiving. It only made you want to cry even more so thankfully your interview was coming to an end.
“Congratulations, Seb. You deserve it.” You said and with that you and your husband hugged once more. “You’re coming home.” You sighed.
“You don’t sound too happy.” He teased.
“I am, trust me. That means you can help move some stuff around and redecorate the guest room.” You let go of Sebastian, but you still held his hand.
“Why would we need to redecorate the guest room?” He questioned.
“Because that’s our baby’s room.”
“Our baby? Really? You mean it?” His lips turned into a smile that he couldn’t wipe off. “When did you find out?”
“Weeks ago. I’m letting you know right now that if you ever make eggs around me, I will vomit so let’s not do that.” You laughed as Seb brought you in for a kiss.
Again, Jenson was cheering in the background like he did in 2010.
When Sebastian pulled away, he smirked. You had changed your lipgloss after all. “Cherry, my favorite.”
#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x you#reporter!reader#sebastian vettel fluff#sebastian vettel x reader#sebastian vettel imagine#sebastian vettel#sv5
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Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader
Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!
Part Two: Carpe Diem
Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici
warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting
If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.
She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.
Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.
Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.
“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!”
“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.
“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”
She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”
“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”
“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”
“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”
She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.
Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place.
The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.
Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding.
As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.
And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.
All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.
In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.
The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.
It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.
What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.
Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.
Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.
So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.
She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.
She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.
It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.
The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.
The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.
Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.
She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.
“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.
She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.
“Not particularly, no.”
His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.
“Why's that?”
This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.
“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”
Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.
“So you're lurking about in here instead.”
He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.
He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.
“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.
She smiles lazily and shrugs.
“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”
He seems to consider her statement for a moment.
“Why come then?”
She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”
“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”
She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.
There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.
“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.
“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.
She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”
There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.
“Modern Languages.”
“Fucking hell,” he groans.
She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.
“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”
She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”
He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”
For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.
He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”
She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”
She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.
“Okay, okay, Michael.”
She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”
It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.
“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.”
The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.
“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”
He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.
“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”
She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.
It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.
“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.
They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between.
“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.
“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”
She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.
Was he checking me out?
As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.
“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”
He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.
“Can’t say there is.”
She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.
“And why not?”
He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”
“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”
He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.
“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”
The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.
Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.
“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”
He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”
She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.
A warmth swirls in her gut at that.
She circles the table, “what about in the past?”
He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.
“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”
The way he says it.
She wouldn't be surprised if he was…
Oh.
“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”
She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.
He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”
She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.
“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”
He seems to miss what she's trying to say.
“Have you been with a girl?”
At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.
She knows she has her answer.
“Well…I…no, I haven't…”
At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.
“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”
His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”
It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it.
“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.
This isn't normal in his world.
Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”
She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”
For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.
She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.
“What if what I want is…you?”
The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.
So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.
The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.
The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.
For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.
The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it.
One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.
He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.
Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.
“Shit - sorry-”
“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”
The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.
Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.
“If you don't want to-”
“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.
She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”
He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.
“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”
He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”
She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.
It's always the skinny white guys.
“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.
She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.
Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.
She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.
She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.
And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it.
Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.
He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.
When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.
The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.
It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.
“Fuck-”
It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.
His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length.
“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.
If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.
Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.
His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.
When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.
“Fucking hell…”
She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.
And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.
“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.
“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.
“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”
His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.
She bites back a grin.
“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”
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Who's the goose... (2)
...that's on the loose? GOOSETARION! The adventures of Astarion being turned into a goose continue. Will he behave or annoy someone so much that his delicate goose neck will be in danger?
PART 1 | MASTERLIST | AO3
Author's Note: So, here we are... with the second part to this unhinged little idea - I had a lot of fun writing this, although if I gotta write someone honking one more time... Well, I'd do it... This beautiful BEAUTIFUL artwork is once provided by the wonderful, beautiful and incredibly talented @azaani-art (you bless us, love! Thank you for allowing me to use this!). And also @the-littlest-raindrop - if you wanna read you'll know why I tagged you! Please all enjoy! I'm excited to hear what you all think!
Pairing: Goosetarion(Astarion)/GN!Tav (You)
Rating: Still stupid
Warnings: ankles in danger (you guys didn't think I'd be serious about this, right?)
Wordcount: 5k
~~~
The next morning the whole group sat around the giant wooden table in the main room of the inn. You were pretty sure you looked like you had slept in the gutter last night.
Beside you sat the goose, craning its neck at everyone at the table but for once pleasantly un-hoking. Even Goosetarion must have realised that honking the house down at this time of day would have probably gotten him his neck wrung faster than he could have jumped off the bench and waddled away. Or maybe it was lingering humiliation from when he had tried several times to jump up on the bench, fluttering his wings as if desperately trying to take flight. It had taken several more tries – and serious hissing from his side to bar you from just lifting him up onto the bench. And even when the goose had managed to get a high enough jump, it had face-planted onto the table nearly knocking itself out because it hadn’t anticipated the physics of the unfamiliarly long neck.
The others had to make a serious effort to not burst out laughing, but the violent threat in Goosetarion’s red eyes had shut them up quickly. Nobody really wanted to feel the goose’s wrath – or teeth for that matter.
Now you softly and absent-mindedly petted the animal with strokes from its head down to its back. Trying to make up for his hurting ego. The rump was very busy wiggling again.
You hadn’t slept awfully much last night as could have been expected. Of course, you had taken Goosetarion to your shared room. The staff at the inn had at first protested. But the fact that the others had quickly jumped in to declare the animal your “emotional support goose” and the fact that you really almost had started crying right then and there had been convincing enough to allow the goose in your room. Although you were of course given some serious side-eyes. But you couldn’t care less about people’s opinions at the moment.
You had sat down Astarion in your room, removed your armour and had sat down on the bed, sinking down against the headboard, face buried in your hands. Your feelings had still been very much on the verge of overflowing leaving you in a state of emptiness and tension all at the same time.
Only when you had heard some rumbling and strained croaks did you realise that you kind of had forgotten Goosetarion. But when you had opened your eyes, you already saw how the goose was hopping up on the bedframe and dragging itself up on the mattress with its wings, making what would have possibly been laborious groans normally. It wasn’t exactly graceful, but you were impressed, nonetheless.
Astarion wandered over to where you sat with drawn up legs and then jumped onto your lap without hesitation. Some struggle followed in which the two of you tried to get comfortable on the bed. Which resulted in you getting whacked in the face by Goosetarion’s splayed wings several times and him face-planting onto your chest about an equal amount of times while trying to move around, losing balance.
Finally, when you had all settled down, Goosetarion had been all cosied up on your lap and made a small honk while looking at you.
You had started stroking him again.
“I’m so sorry this happened, Astarion, but to be honest, you really had it coming.”
“Honk!?”
“Because you don’t just go around trying to steal from anyone who looks at you funny!”
“Honk!”
“Let’s just… hope this will all be over soon. I promise I’ll protect you and take care of you – no matter what.” You had embraced the goose, burying your face in its feathers for a moment and deeply wished that soon it would be your vampire again.
Goosetarion had carefully placed his small head on your shoulder and given a very soft little honk. The weight on your shoulder had been so light it had barely been noticeable at all.
And that is how you had slipped into your dreams sometime: Sitting up against the headboard, goose on your lap. Your head had fallen back in an awkward angle that probably hadn’t been healthy for your neck. And the goose had been mirroring you with its long neck and head fallen back on your shoulder. Surely a sleeping position no real goose had ever occupied.
But now you sat at the inn table having breakfast and talked with the others about what your plans for the day were. It was to be more walking and talking to people.
You were rather relieved because that meant that you wouldn’t have to think too much about how to take care of the goose. You’d just have him tag along and try your best to stop him from biting anyone’s ankles or getting his neck twisted.
The group set off once everyone had finished eating. You swung your legs over and got up. Astarion eagerly jumped down from the bench and honked at you demandingly, immediately earning a hush from Gale and a tchk from Lae’zel. The goose wasn’t bothered by it, just kept looking at you, now spreading its wings a little. He honked again. It was obvious he wanted to be carried and was very demanding about it.
“Is that your definition of asking nicely to be lifted up? Because if yes, you need to work on your attitude”, you scolded him while deep down you were surprised how the vampire so blatantly dared to hold on to his desire to be petty and sassy.
Another honk – challenging now. The goose glowered at you, for lack of a better description, and you glowered back.
Then you just walked off, following the others which had already left the inn. And you were swift. Leaving no choice to the goose but having to waddle behind you as fast as his rubbery feet would go or risk being left behind.
You gave in pretty quickly afterwards. And if only because Lae’zel was almost already losing her mind about how slow you were going to be with the goose walking beside you.
Goosetarion willingly and humbly let himself be lifted and carried around then without another complaint. Actually, you got the feeling he was getting a bit too used to that already.
“Enjoying the luxury of being carried around by your loved one, Astarion?”, Halsin asked the goose a while after you had left the inn and walked around the city. Goosetarion had stretched out his head and looked at his surroundings curiously and cautiously from his privileged position.
At the question the goose’s head – which was comically staying in place despite the walking movements – had swung around and the question had been answered with a short honk that you could only describe as sassy. Then Goosetarion had angled his head in a way that was way too much Astarion in nature than should have been possible. The druid laughed while you saw that Gale shook his head disapprovingly.
You squeezed the goose just a little: “Well, don’t get used to it, Astarion, this is a once in a lifetime occurrence.”
In reply you got a honk that sounded like a pout.
The first half of the day then was spent just like yesterday: tiresomely walking around, trying to strike up conversations with strangers to get some information without being too suspicious. Which was kind of a challenge when you were carrying around a goose that had to comment on almost everything despite no one fully knowing what it wanted to say.
Around noon you decided to take a break. You picked out what seemed to be a market place in full swing and settled down around the fountain in the middle. Each and every one of you had grabbed something from the market stalls to eat – pies, fruit, Karlach had even gone for a portion of spit roast.
At one of the stalls a huge-bellied man in a very grimy apron had way to keenly asked for how much you would sell the goose. Goosetarion’s head had yanked straight upwards, and he had immediately started to scream bloody murder (in goose) while you had turned him away in your arms – away from this shady looking merchant. Panic immediately had shot through you and your eyes had widened as you yanked the goose away and as far out of reach as possible.
“The goose is not for sale”, you had screamed hysterically in response.
“Unfortunate, how much good does it do if you’re only carrying it around? You all a bunch of leaf-eaters or what? This could be a nice dinner for my whole family!”, the man had yapped, obviously angry by your unwillingness to negotiate. You’d had your doubts about the family claim. Especially since you had seen the very suspicious looking dishes he seemingly had had to offer at his stall. They had all looked rank and the longer you’d stood there you’d also smelled their foulness. You hadn’t even dared to think about how old these must be.
“Istik, the bird is not for sale!”, Lae’zel had entered the conversation and drawn a dagger, taking a threatening step towards the huge man.
The other companions each all had taken up readied stances too – hands not too casually wandering to their weapons and stepping in front of you and Goosetarion in protection.
And thankfully, it had been left at that. The man lifting up his hands in defence as he had mumbled something incoherent and turned around again. Astarion had honked once more in victory (as if he had contributed to anything) and waved his head that would have normally swept his white curls back. As a goose it had just looked a bit delusional.
Now you sat on the cobblestone ground with Goosetarion on your lap. You had already gotten into a routine it seemed, it was awkwardly comforting. But somewhen when you were still nibbling on some apples and cheese, the goose wiggled off your lap. It seemed he was bored by just sitting around. Or maybe it was also that all of the group happily munching away had made him think of his own hunger that he was currently unable to satisfy.
He eyed the rim of the fountain suspiciously while everyone was busy chatting and eating. Only out of the corner of your eye did you see how he spread out his wings, his neck stretched out and started swinging – almost like a cat preparing to make a big leap somewhere.
Was he… was he trying to fly?
The goose made a leap, desperately flapped its wings and just for a tiny moment actually seemed to gain some air. But the moment passed as soon as it began and Goosetarion full on crashed into Lae’zel who had just gotten back from also buying a portion of spitroast. The githyanki had only just sat down when the goose fell onto her, almost causing her to drop her food.
Lae’zel immediately had her dagger out that - not so long ago- had been used to protect the same goose it was threatening now. The githyanki cussed out the animal that darted back to the safety of your lap much faster than you could have imagined. With desperate honking the goose jumped on your lap and tried to even climb up onto your shoulders. Lae’zel was still cursing and stepping closer, dagger in hand.
“Astarion! Lae’zel!”, you both called them out.
Goosetarion gave self-righteous honk while the fighter reluctantly sheathed her dagger again and went back to her lunch.
“And you are getting off my godsdamned shoulders, you silly goose, you’re too heavy!”, you added with some anger as Goosetarion was just about to figure out an even more privileged position. You shoved him off, causing him to croak in disappointment. And you made a point to ignore the annoying goose for some time after that, joining the conversation of the others – parenting measures.
So, Goosetarion got bored again with simply sitting around, waiting for you lot to get going again. He started to waddle around you and the other companions – as if he was deep in thought and tried to sort them out by wandering back and forth.
At one point a small child came by and interrupted him by pointing at him, loudly screaming “DUCKY” and then toddled away again. Goosetarion looked taken aback, honked in confusion and annoyance and then went back to his wandering.
Jaheira and you were discussing an action plan as to where to go next since you had the most knowledge of the city. Actually, Astarion would probably have had valuable input. But getting that input across was a bit difficult at the moment. He tried nonetheless.
The goose loudly honked when Jaheira proposed something and shook his head in a comical way then started to flail around his wings. The flailing and honking really did nothing though to get his point across. When Goosetarion noticed that you were all just staring at him in confusion he even looked like he was attempting to perform a face-palm. Then he gave up with another defeated honk.
The small child from before chose this particular moment when everyone was still staring at the goose to return. It was carrying quite a large piece of bread and from a few feet away hurled it at Goosetarion whose back was towards the child. “FOR DUCKY!”, it screamed while putting all its power into the throw.
Apparently at this young age the child was not yet very proficient with improvised throwing weapons because the throw went absolutely awry. Or rather, the child was in fact a prodigy because the piece of bread hit the goose squarely in the back of its head, making it squeak and lose balance.
The kid just laughed giddily and clapped its hands, hopping up and down. Obviously, it was expecting the “duck” to happily devour the generous offering of food now.
Goosetarion regained his balance quickly and turned around. He was dangerously silent.
You immediately felt the tension radiating from the small body, so you carefully got up. To be ready for whatever.
The goose stared down the child who was still jumping around cheerfully. But the longer “DUCKY” just stared at it, not moving, just with a lot of fury in its tiny red eyes, it realised that something was wrong. The kid calmed down until it looked downright frightened. You saw the child’s bottom lip starting to wobble, ready to start crying at any moment.
And then Goosetarion stormed towards the child, big wings spread wide, neck stretched out as far as possible and screaming as loud as his lungs allowed.
The kid started screaming as well and desperately tried to run away, almost stumbling over its own feet in the attempt to not get assaulted by the vicious goose.
You rushed after the murderous animal, trying to get to it before it could brutalise the child’s ankles. And thankfully Astarion was still not very adept to running around as a goose and you could easily catch up to him and grab him.
He desperately flapped his wings trying to free himself from your arms while still honking like mad. Your ears almost immediately started ringing. Incredible how much anger could fit into such a tiny body.
The child was already long gone and probably traumatised for life by this oversized duck trying to hunt it down. But Goosetarion was still livid even when you picked him up while holding him as far away from you as possible to avoid getting whacked by him again.
“Astarion, will you calm the fuck down?”, you yelled in between angry honking. You yourself were getting more than just annoyed by his behaviour – first he got himself into this pickle and now he caused even more chaos instead of sitting it out. There definitely was something to be said about the chaotic nature of geese and the vampire rogue fitting very well together.
The rest of the group had been watching the scene. Gale had his face buried in his hands. Most of the rest was at least silently snickering while Karlach was just very openly losing it again.
You sat the angry goose down on the stone rim of the fountain in an attempt to force him to calm down. “Time out, Astarion, godsdammit! Either you behave or I might be thinking about selling your poultry ass off, yet!”, you gave him the ultimatum and pointed a finger at him angrily.
He tried to snap at it. You could barely believe the audacity.
“For someone with so much neck to wrangle at the moment you should really be careful about who you piss off, Astarion”, Wyll said who was casually leaning against the fountain.
The goose stared at him. But Wyll just shrugged.
“Are we going to be nice now?”, you asked Goosetarion. The gaze of the red button eyes wandered back to you. The goose gave one more, curt honk, then settled down in a manner that made you think it would have crossed its wings over its chest in annoyed defeat had it been able to do so.
You stared at him angrily for a moment longer then went back to eating your scrawny lunch and talking with the others. You kept talking about different possible ideas on how to go forward. The goose meanwhile was brooding while sitting on the rim of the round fountain.
After a while, it seemed Goosetarion had enough of being well behaved and only listening while not being able to throw in his snide comments. He hopped off the fountain wall, specifically choosing Gale’s lap as a landing pad and making the wizard wince while the goose jumped off him and sauntered away.
He wandered around a little and honked dismissively when you told him to not to go too far. But for the moment you were already so fed up with him you really couldn’t care less.
The group finished up their lunch and decided on their plan. Then you all packed up your things and were ready to leave. And only then did you notice that the goose was nowhere to be found.
“Astarion?”, you asked and looked around. Some of the others had already started walking again.
“Was he not just wandering off towards some of the market stalls?”, Halsin asked. You simply nodded as you started looking around with rising panic.
“Yes, but I… I mean he wouldn’t have just left, right?”, you said as you ran from side to side and hoped to spot a feisty goose somewhere. You screamed his name again in hopes to get a honk in response. But nothing.
“You don’t think he would have wandered off just to spite us, right?”, you asked Halsin again. The druid in the meantime had shouted to the others to stop and come back.
“As much as I think that he likes to get on people’s nerves deliberately… I don’t think he would walk off and jeopardize his own safety – so no”, Shadowheart replied as she came back and caught on to what was happening.
“Well, then where could the little rascal have gone?”, Karlach asked in response.
A thought raced through your mind when she said that, and it hit you as you looked at Karlach.
“The suspicious merchant!”, you exclaimed and panic reached new heights within you.
“Let me just”, Gale started when he connected the dots and immediately started murmuring an incantation. Meanwhile the group had reassembled at the fountain and quickly was informed about what was happening. You stared at the wizard as he had gone silent and impatiently awaited the result of whatever it was he was doing.
The wizard’s eyes had lit up and he was focusing. Then his eyes flashed back to normal, his eyes found yours, worry flashing in them: “I feel him, he’s moving – quickly. And I’m pretty sure that is not goose speed.”
Your eyes widened when Gale confirmed your suspicion. You looked around at the others who mirrored your expression and without out a word you all readied to take on the pursuit.
“This way”, the wizard exclaimed with an outstretched arm, and you all started running.
You ran through the market and then through the streets of Baldur’s Gate, following whatever direction Gale gave you who was quickly out of breath but did his best to carry on.
You were already almost back at Wyrm’s Crossing – the houses a lot smaller and simpler here than the townhouses in the core city. And surely after a few minutes you could make out desperate honking somewhere in front of you. You closed in on the goose-napper!
When it seemed, you were only a corner away you already reached for your dagger – ready to do whatever it might take - but Wyll grabbed your hand. “Let’s be clever about this, let’s not risk that delicate goose neck being broken”, he said to you with a sympathetic glance. Reluctantly, you put back your dagger, at least for the time being.
You peeked around the corner and sure as all Nine Hells you saw the full-bellied man from earlier with a wiggling, struggling and screaming goose under his arms turn another corner. From there on out you followed the villain with some distance to avoid him noticing your little rescue party.
You followed him up to a little free-standing wooden house. It was old and shabby and made you further suspicious of him. What kind of shady business could someone possibly be up to in there?
You saw how he was putting some stuff down in front of the porch of the house, then went inside with the screaming animal still under his arm.
Again, you were ready to just go and immediately tear this house down. You were almost blind with your fear and worry for Astarion and with white-hot rage. But again, Wyll grabbed your arm and made a motion that conveyed that you should walk around the house.
Very impatiently you nodded, and you all snuck around the house which was barely a step up from a shack. From the inside you could actually hear the excessive honking of the goose now. Your heart almost broke and your body was tense with rash panic.
On the rear side of the house was a scruff garden fenced in by a rundown fence and a small wooden stump. It was almost an insult to even call it a garden; it was more of an abandoned plot.
It looked like the stump there was used for chopping wood. An axe was planted in the ground beside it. But there were also dark stains on it that could only make you horridly guess what else might be chopped there.
Wyll – taking over the role as tactician right then and there – made you wait while you were almost ready to scale a wall. At least by the excessive continued honking you still knew that Goosetarion was alive.
Wyll’s patience and insistence paid off because after mere minutes, the man came out of the house again, carrying the goose, some stuff in a basket hanging from his arm and of course – a ginormous cleaver.
Your heart dropped and the goose too now looked just very scared and helpless with how it hung from the goose-napper’s arm. Head hanging low, seemingly having given up all hope of being saved. You drew an arrow and readied at on your bow as Wyll waved the others to get in position.
The man slammed the cleaver into the wooden block and then with both hands placed down the goose on its back. The animal was barely even struggling anymore, just fearfully squeaking and noticing that almost broke your heart completely in these frightful moments.
The villain then ripped out the cleaver from the wooden stump and lifted it up high. You could see the sunlight glint on the shabby silver.
Wyll was still motioning everyone to hold but your strings snapped.
“GET AWAY FROM THE GOOSE!”, you screamed at full lung capacity while loosening the arrow from your bow string simultaneously.
The man hesitated and had only started to turn to you as the arrow struck him squarely in the shoulder holding the cleaver.
He immediately dropped the lifted knife with a guttural scream, letting it fall. It land on the wooden stump again – missing the goose’s head by mere inches. You only saw how the goose’s head dropped back with a small relieved honk, almost as if it had fainted shortly because of the shock.
Then absolute chaos broke out.
You all rushed towards the man who was screaming in pain and was already pulling at the arrow in his shoulder. Your eyes were solely on the goose but then Halsin, Karlach and most of the others overtook you and you lost sight of the animal as your friends stormed onto the man.
Coincidentally, some other shady looking folk came out of the back of the house, alarmed by the commotion. Your suspicions and gut feeling were confirmed then. You didn’t need to know anymore at this point, you had no mercy in your bones for them in this moment.
The thugs engaged your group in combat. In the meantime, you were desperately trying to spot the goose while your friends easily managed to keep the enemies in check.
Finally, you spotted Goosetarion! He had jumped off the wooden stump and seemingly had gotten into the basket the man had been carrying. And obviously the basket had contained some more knives because the goose was now firmly holding one in his beak. Astarion certainly had gotten out of his stupor and was now flailing his wings and threatened everyone with the blade he was carrying – everyone’s ankles were definitely in grave danger. Almost no difference from the usual rogue.
Your group easily fought off the thugs as you sneaked through the chaos of the battle towards the goose to grab and secure it. When the goose saw you, it hopped happily and dropped the knife to honk joyfully at you. You rushed over, kneeled down and wrapped him in your arms as he kept honking and jumping – obviously very relieved that you came to his rescue.
The fight was very quickly turning to your favour. But then as you kept holding onto the poor little animal you heard something else. You couldn’t quite discern it at first, but you heard loud screaming. And as you tried to peek through the legs of everyone around you, you saw some people in armour coming closer.
“City watch”, you whispered to yourself. Goosetarion’s head swung around as well and he gave another honk as he saw what you saw.
“CITY WATCH”, you yelled louder so everyone would hear.
That made almost everyone stall. You quickly got up and wildly gestured at your friends to just get going. So they did – and the fight turned into running from city guards way quicker than you thought it possible.
You didn’t even take one look back at the assailants and the goose-napper. You were just completely happy with running away with your goose soulmate safely in your arms. The adrenaline of the fight and the panic before almost awarding you wings. The only reason you took a look back was to make sure that all of your group were safely with you.
When you had brought what you thought was a safe distance between you and your pursuers, you just sank to the ground with Goosetarion wrapped securely in your arms. You nuzzled your face into his feathers and started crying.
The last day had literally been too much for you. You were in desperate need of a break and some strong alcohol. Someone put their hand on your shoulder as you cried into Astarion’s feathering. You softly slid down against the rough brick wall you were leaning against until you were laying on your back, completely dissolved in your tears. You were still burying your face when even through your closed eyelids you could see a purple flash of light and suddenly the weight laying on top of you was much heavier than before.
You opened your eyes and almost didn’t believe them when you saw Astarion – the real elven Astarion lay on top of you. Reflexively your arms and legs wrapped around the man to hold him as close as possible.
“Oh gods”, was the only thing you managed to mutter as more tears kept coming. The vampire in turn wrapped his arms around you as well. He was panting and coughing – surely a response of straining his voice with all the excessive honking. You rolled around in your forceful hug until you were laying on top of the former goose.
And then you just stayed like this for a long moment while your friends watched out for you and gave you two a moment of just holding each other. Making sure everything was fine and letting the realisation settle in.
You buried your face at Astarion’s shoulder and held him as tightly as your body allowed.
“Hello, my love”, Astarion whispered hoarsely to you as he started to softly caress your shoulders, arms and back.
You sobbed and lifted your head from his shoulder. You saw how he softly smiled at you and that his red eyes were dangerously wet as well as he kept holding onto you.
You didn’t know what to say nor did you trust your mind enough to form coherent sentences yet. You were just unbelievably happy that you had him back with you. So you just stared at the humanoid vampire again and didn’t let go of him.
“Honk?”, Astarion made in an attempt to stop you from crying by cracking a joke. You whacked his arm and pulled him in closer again. Then you whacked his arm again.
“If you’re ever going to honk at me again-“, you started making a threat.
“I’ll happily promise you not to”, Astarion immediately replied, pressed his forehead to yours and cupped your face with one of his hands – graciously reminding you that he was fully back with you again.
And then he pressed his lips to yours, confirming the promise he had just made to you.
Tag list:
Tumblr taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @bloopthebat @dark-star-exe @sleepydang @spooniefulofsugar @shadowserpent4444 @mei-simp @shiningneedlecastle@indestructeible @catching-fire-in-the-wind
#astarion#astarion x tav#baldurs gate#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#astarion x reader#astarion x mc#baldurs gate astarion#astarion x oc#astarion x you#fanfiction#astarion ancunin#bg3 spoilers#tav#bg3#goosetarion#neil newbon#halsin#bg3 companions#wyll#wyll ravengard#bg3 wyll#lae'zel#shadowheart#jaheira#karlach#gale#gale of waterdeep#goostarion
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pt IV good omens but all i know is i watched three episodes on a stream with you all
Three hours being in a server with good omens fans in the wild *insert random emojis to sound like optimum clickbait youtuber except this ain't clickbait*
Okay I woke up. Before everything just WASHES out of my brain, I'm gonna describe whatever happened last night best as I can, because that's what I do.
Some of you were unable to attend the stream, and were sad. But don't worry I got you guys here's the rundown:
people joined the server. people were confused. i was afraid. i was assured that i should be, which was meant to comfort me.
people introduced themselves. someone said they had worked in a brothel as a bartender, which was cool, they said they had many stories. they did not elaborate for fear of scaring the newcomers. The newcomers, aka, me, were already scared, and it was not of the brothel stories.
I brought an emotional support orange with me. It looked uncomfortable. I thought it would be rotten. It was not, but we would not know that until later.
@thescholarlystrumpet entered fabulously, and started the stream.
i didn't realise the show had started for a good two minutes because there was a random voice over that was telling us about Earth's star sign (Libra) and somehow that didn't compute in my brain as being part of the episode. I thought we were checking audio.
It turned out, the episode had begun, and everyone was acting like this is a completely normal way for a show to start.
We time-jumped from the fall of man to modern day society so fast that I got whiplash.
There were a lot of orgasmic noises. I asked why. I was told in no uncertain terms that those were screams of labour. I'm sorry to everyone who has given birth ever.
There were three babies. I tried to keep track, it was hard. I thought the Antichrist won prizes for tropical fish. I was wrong.
I fell in love with Crowley and his hips and was very gay on the chat. This was heartily applauded.
I didn't realise an hour had passed when the episode ended, which it seemed was to be a common theme. I said nothing happened which everyone found funny for some reason.
I was very concerned about Armageddon. Everyone assured me that it would take place over the course of the season. I asked why we'd speedrun through millennia in five minutes but eight days took several episodes. I was a naive fool. Time is a social construct and this show cares not for social constructs.
They fucked up the mission. This was also to be a common theme.
I begged for a break and had to shake my head to try and get the brain rot out. I did not succeed.
The second episode commenced. The intro concerned me, because the cartoon Aziraphale looked pregnant or like a chicken. I asked if Crowley had impregnated him. He had not.
The pornography scene had to be replayed because I was so lost and had not relished it properly.
There was a lot of crying on the chat. Every few minutes someone would say a normal sentence in English and everyone would respond with crying emojis. Needless to say, I was concerned. This was also to be a common theme.
I asked why we were talking about random children. I was told it was The Them and they were the Antichrist's friends. I liked the hellhound.
I wanted to adopt the Antichrist, and grew more thirsty for Crowley every time he was a casual accessory to murder. I'm relying on this fandom not to use this as evidence with the cops. The chat was not reassuring, they said maybe.
I thirsted for Crowley more. This was also to be a common theme.
Aziraphale was very cute, I realised. That was nice. It was not nice when he had gay panic and said mean things to Crowley and they broke up. This was also to be a common theme.
I got so gay for Crowley that I ate the emotional support orange. It was gaseous. The chat was concerned, and everyone got excited every time oranges were mentioned after.
The third episode was a fucking roller coaster. Crowley and Aziraphale were your average high school couple but biblical for 6000 years.
Both were casual accessories to murder, and sometimes the cause of the murders, before going out for a date. Crowley got horny and he stopped listening every time Aziraphale ate. This was also to be a common theme.
The chat was keeping count of the husband breakups. This was not nice.
The Bentley was silver in many scenes, and people were forced to concede that they saw it. I was smug.
Crowley was sexy. She served gender, or as some people in the chat said, she served cunt. Her hairstyles got better and better. No one liked the 60s one. I did. I like everything she does. I love him.
Things happened. The fandom infected me. Someone mentioned how the book said Crowley felt lonely. I was near tears.
Crowley walked down the aisle for Aziraphale. We all were happy.
The book case, the thermos, the bandstand. I was broken.
Everyone said very emotional goodbyes.
I made a post on tumblr that was absolutely incomprehensible but accurately conveyed my love for Crowley. I fell asleep.
Same time next week, I believe.
I hope this was an adequate summary of the livestream for everyone, I am broken irreparably and if anyone mentions the bandstand I will have to start drinking and not stop till I get a happy ending. I cannot afford alcohol. I will ferment grapes myself if I have to.
#good omens#good omens mascot#good omens summary#good omens livestream#go livestream summarised#episode 3 good omens#good omens 1#crowley#crowley serving gender#aziraphale#aziracrow#azirowley#aziraley#the j was just a j#weirdly-specific-but-ok#yall adopted me and broke me thanks#david tennant#michael sheen#good omens fandom#you all need therapy#i need therapy now#gay#queer#lgbtqia#queer tv shows#is this my life now#the good omens mascot#whom you have traumatised#is here to serve
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BG3: Reader is Kidnapped/Tortured
This one started as a Shadowheart oneshot, but I decided to expand it to include Lae’zel, Karlach, and Minthara as well.
Let me know your favorites! I’m looking to expand more of my stuff into one shots, so it’s good information to have!
Content Warning for torture (obviously)
Shadowheart
When the days adventuring party returns without you, her blood immediately runs cold. They didn’t just come back without and leave you out there right?
When they inform her that you’ve been taken by the cloister, her face goes pale.
It takes Karlach and Wyll on either side of her to get her eased down onto a bedroll and breathing regularly. You were gone.
And to make matters worse, Viconia DeVir had you in her grip. Even with her amnesia, she could recall just how cruel the woman was.
The party had made great strides in passively finding clues about the location of the House of Grief, but they were still yet to find it.
Finding it had now jumped from a passive priority to the single most important thing they could be doing.
Shadowheart spent most of that night weeping in frustration at her inability to remember. She had grown up there for gods sake. The past 40 years at least had been spent in that damned house.
In the end, it was actually Astarion who finally discovered the sanctuary’s location. It was decided that he and Shadowheart would be the two best suited to sneak in and retrieve you.
When they found you, you were lying on the house’s marble floor, chained up to rigs that came out of the ground. The chain around your neck only barely allowed you to sit up to look at your rescuers.
“Shadowheart? Shadowheart is that you?” You whispered into the dark room. You could only see two silhouettes, but the quaffed elven hair of Asterion and the pointy crown of Shadowheart gave it away.
You instinctively tried to rush towards her, only to be stopped by the strain of your restraints. It didn’t much matter though, because Shadowheart was at your side in a matter of seconds.
She stroke your cheek, paying special attention to cut that stretched across your face. She was quick to move around to other parts of your body, stopping to carefully examine each of your wounds. Your restraints left you unable to reach out to her in anyway.
“Shadowheart, please, you have to get out of here, now,” you nearly cry. “They’re looking for you.” Astarion joins the two of you on the ground, getting to work at picking the several locks that held you in place.
It takes her a moment to register what you were saying. Her first thought is an obvious refusal, she’s not going anywhere without you.
But then the implications of your words dawn on her. They took you because they couldn’t find her. All of this torture you’ve endured, you’ve done it to protect her.
“Please Shadowheart,” you beg. “I swear I didn’t tell them anything. You’ll be safe at camp, just please go.”
Her head spins with newly uncovered memories of the torture she inflicted before the Nautaloid. She remembers how the Sharrans go about getting information from people.
“Astarion, how are coming along on those locks?” she ignores your pleas in favor of getting you free. Your upper body is now free, but he seems to be having trouble with your ankles.
“Patience, darling,” he quips, nearly earning him a slap across the face from Shadowheart.
Within the minute the shackles drop from your ankles, leaving you free to stand up on shaking legs. Shadowheart gives you a quick healing spell before asking “do you think you can make it back?”
You nod, following her and Astarion back the way they came in.
You had never been more excited to see camp than you were in that moment. You laid down face first on the plush Elfsong mattress. You hadn’t slept at all the previous night, and being tortured really took it out of you.
Shadowheart sat on the bed next to you. The fact that you laid down on your stomach did not bode well for the condition of your back.
She tugged gently at the hem of your shirt. “Arms up, love,” she cooed. You whined and crossed your arms over your chest. You didn’t want to show her what they had done.
“If you truly will not show me, I will get Jaheira to look after you,” she reasoned. “But, please, let me take care of you.” The second part was more a plea than anything.
Reluctantly, you lifted your arms and allowed her to pull the shirt over your head.
She did her best to remain stoic. She had seen endless wounds like this. She had inflicted endless wounds like this. But against her will, a sob choked its way up her throat.
The same back she had spent so many nights tracing and trailing with kisses was now so raw and bloodied, she wondered for a moment if you had any skin left.
She used every last bit of energy healing the wounds. By the time she was done she had exhausted herself too much to even make it back to her own bed.
She spent the night curled up around your legs, resting her head on your lower back. Viconia was going pay for what she’d done, she’d make sure of it.
Lae’zel
Lae’zel isn’t the usually the tactical planning type, but when you’re captured by Vlaakith’s army, she realizes this isn’t a kick-down-the-front-door type of mission.
This does not, however, make her any more patient during the planning process. The githyanki could have you floating halfway through astral plane by now.
Luckily, the gith as a whole aren’t known for their subtleties, so you’re not hard to track down.
Protection is thankfully slim enough that the party can pretty much strong arm their way to you.
When Lae’zel finds you are bound by some magical device that was, as loathe as she was to admit it, beyond her level of expertise.
You were at least conscious, which was truly remarkable given your condition. All your clothes were torn and bloodied, but the most concerning and blatant wound came for the side of your head.
Almost the entire left side of your face was completely covered in dried blood, all leading back to the gash on the side of your head that was once your left ear.
Lae’zel cursed, pointlessly kicking the arcane barrier.
You could see her shouting at Gale. Presumably she was impatiently rambling about freeing you, but you couldn’t make out what she was saying through the barrier.
All you saw was a long dagger that she pulled from her belt before storming off in the direction of your now dead captors.
Lae’zel was still gone when the party finally figured out how lower the barrier around you.
You stumbled out onto your knees and immediately found yourself surrounded by the party’s healers.
Lae’zel came stomping back moments later, carrying a small wooden bucket she didn’t have before. Likely she just found it somewhere around the gith camp.
She dropped the bucket at your feet without a word, leaving you to examine the contents for yourself.
You looked down into the bucket to find a dozen or so fleshy green ears.
You look back up at her, not sure whether to be honored or disgusted.
The smug look on her face let you know that this was certainly a gift she was proud of, so honored it is.
“Thank you. It’s nice to have plenty of choices when it comes to choosing my replacement.”
Karlach
Karlach really does try to be tactical most of the time, but you’ve been taken by none other than Lord Gortash himself.
And the idea that you are gone and she is here, at camp, while the others make a plan of how to rescue you? She can hardly contain herself.
She paces around camp, leaving a thick line of charred wood beneath her as she walks the same path over and over again.
Chewing her nails isn’t usually a nervous habit of hers but at this point she’s liable to chew her fingers off.
She logically knows it would do no good to come out guns blazing when you’re probably locked up behind the entirety of the steel watch, but worry and adrenaline nearly get ahead of her.
It is Shadowheart and Halsin who finally pull her from her thoughts. They have a plan, and much to Karlach’s relief it involves her. She was terrified they might agree upon a stealthier approach and ask her to stay behind.
She would have done it, if it were truly what was best for you. She might have burned up the entirety of the Elfsong Tavern by the time you finally got back though.
Luckily, since Karlach was mistaken by the steel watch as a defective watcher, she was actually best equipped to break in.
The plan, in whole, ran pretty smoothly. At least until the moment Karlach actually set eyes on you, bruised up and unconscious in the middle of a cell.
All bets were off after that. There was one thing that mattered and it was having you, safe with her again.
The minute it took Astarion to pick the lock was the longest of her entire life. She was nearly burning hot enough to melt through the bars herself.
The moment the door popped open, she was beside you, on her knees pulling you into her chest.
Shadowheart whisper-shouted behind her, reminding her to watch your neck and be gentle with your head. She carefully situated her large hand to cradle your head.
She rocked back and forth, trying to soothe her own panicked heart. “Hey bub, it’s me. I came to rescue you. I… please wake up. I’m here now. You’re safe.”
When you didn’t ever stir, Karlach looked up at Halsin and Shadowheart, eyes brimming with tears and worry. “They aren’t waking up. Why aren’t they waking up?”
Halsin joined Karlach on the ground, leaning to put his head on your chest. “Their heart continues to beat and their lungs draw breath, but they are weak. We must get them to camp.”
There was an incredibly brief argument about who was best fit to carry you, given that your skin was already starting to redden from Karlach’s heat, but her bottom lip quivered at even the mention of you leaving her arms.
When they managed to get you back to the Elfsong, Karlach was reluctantly convinced to lay you down on your bed.
She winced when she saw the small burns starting to form on the side of your body she had held to her own. Your left cheek was already starting to blister. Maybe she should’ve let Halsin carry you after all.
The healers came by to try and figure what had happened to you. You had no visible injuries, aside from the minor burns, yet you were still unable to be stirred.
It was actually Minthara who suggested they may have inflicted mental torture rather than physical, similar to what was inflicted on her at Moonrise.
The idea made Karlach burst into uncontrolled sobs. “You think they may have been erased?!”
Minthara looked sympathetically down at Karlach, but didn’t have an answer for her.
The party collectively decided that the only thing they could do is wait and let you rest.
Afraid to burn you with the fire that courses through her veins, Karlach restrained herself from crawling into bed with you. Instead she knelt next to the bed, resting her head on the mattress and reaching up to stroke your body.
She couldn’t sleep at all that night, only stroke your burned cheek and cry softly into your mattress.
She started to talk to you, talking about all the things she’s like to do with you when all of this was over.
“Maybe we’ll get a little place in Lower City, next to the water so we can watch the sunsets with all the boats ‘n stuff floating out in the distance. Oh! And we can go on little picnics in Bloomridge Park, and feed our leftovers to all the stray cats and dogs. Oh who am I kidding we’re taking all of them home with us. We’re gonna have a whole farmhouse if you can’t stop me.”
When you finally do wake up, Karlach wraps her arms around in a hug so tight you nearly suffocate. She eventually settles to sit in your lap while you gently stroke her hair.
Gortash better start counting because his days are dangerously numbered.
Minthara
The moment Minthara finds out you’ve been taken by Orin, her heart nearly stops beating.
One moment it was you, the love of her life, standing before her. Then, through the breaking of necks and cracking of bones, she finds herself face to face with one of her few fears. Orin the Red.
How could she fall for this again? Her head spins with the thought of all the things Orin may be doing to you. She knows you could hold your own, but Orin had a way of breaking the unbreakable.
Sometimes, with how loyally she followed you, it was easy to forget that Minthara was used to being the one in charge. A lot had changed since you met her as the Nightwarden.
But it all comes back quickly as she barks out orders to the now leaderless party. They were marching on the Temple of Bhaal, now. Minthara was prepared to take on the god of murder himself if it meant saving you.
As tempting as it was to charge straight into the temple, it left you all with little hope of survival. She decided the party’s presence near the temple would be enough to lure Orin out, leaving her an open opportunity to slip in.
Orin’s tactless blood thirst made the plan go over all too well. She couldn’t resist the smell of fresh unspilled blood at her doorstep.
By the time Minthara got to you, you were weak but still painfully conscious. You were hanging over an alter like a sacrifice by meat hooks that cleaved into your skin.
You had been tortured in true Bhaalist fashion. While your body displayed clear evidence of the slicing and cleaving, your mind was even more clouded by the things you had been forced to do and endure. It made you even more sympathetic to Minthara’s past.
Minthara climbed onto the unholy alter and began to remove you from the cruel hooks. She ignored your weak protestations, refusing to even look you in the eyes.
She resisted any urge to comfort you, pushing all the softness from her mind until the mission was complete and you were safe. She did not speak, fearing she may distract herself for the task at hand.
She only allowed for a brief moment when she picked you up and felt your throw your arms around her neck. You curled into her stomach with a choked sob and cried “I’m so sorry.”
“I know you better than to think you are foolish. Orin is cunning, persistent, and full of deceit. I do not fault you for what has happened.”
Escaping the temple was easier than getting in. She wordlessly worked her way back to the Elfsong with the ease of someone who wasn’t carrying a bloodied body.
She did what she could to heal you herself, given that none of the others had returned yet. A mildly concerning tidbit that seemed not to faze Minthara in the slightest.
It wasn’t until she was positive you would be okay that she allowed herself to soften, running her hands through your blood crusted hair and gently cleaning you with a dampened rag.
She paid little mind to the rest of the party, who returned looking a little worse for wear. She was disappointed but not surprised to hear that they had failed to kill Orin.
She recruited Jaheira to assist in your healing. She trusted her more than Shadowheart. She never let go of your hand, even when you squeezed so hard you thought you may have broken her fingers as Jaheira patched wounds with a variety of burning liquids.
She laid next to you on the bed, resting her head gently against your stomach and allowing you to stroke her head. She wasn’t bothered by the filth and blood that covers nearly every inch of you.
“We will make her pay for what she’s done to you. What she’s done to us. We will match every scar she’s inflicted tenfold until not even Bhaal with recognizes his own blood,” she swears, placing a gentle kiss on your stomach.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 tav#bg3 minthara#minthara#bg3 karlach#karlach#minthara x reader#minthara x tav#bg3 shadowheart#karlach x reader#karlach x tav#shadowheart x reader#shadowheart x tav#Shadowheart#cw blood#cw: gore#cw torture#tw torture#bg3 x reader#bg3 lae'zel#lae’zel x tav#laezel x reader#lae'zel#bg3 x you#bg3 x tav
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tiny prancer || alanna kennedy x reader ||
you talk to alanna about your feelings after watching her play with harper.
"higher! higher!" your eyes drifted away from the interviewer once again as you heard harper's shrill shrieks of delight. she had been devastated whenever she saw you on the pitch, but had been immediately told that you were busy by gorry. luckily, alanna had swooped right in and picked the girl up before her pout could dissolve into a fit of tears. and now, you were swooning while trying to complete your media stuff for the day.
"sorry, sorry. this has been a hard comeback, but i'm grateful for my manchester family. i'd hate to give united their props, but those girls have also been so supportive. for our rivalry to be put aside, it means a lot. i'm very thankful for so many of my fellow players in the league from teams all over the country," you said. it was a good answer, one that people could tell came from the heart.
you had been away for nearly a year after a huge injury and bigger setback. it had truly been a freak accident, your knee giving out on you and the subsequent fall breaking your leg as you fell. there hadn't been any dirty tackles, and aside from alanna, the first person who had been at your side had been a manchester united player. some of those girls had really become some of your best friends when you needed a break from your teammates.
"well, everybody is excited to see you come back on the pitch this weekend. it has been overdue, and if the practice footage from this week is anything to go by, you're definitely in top form." you thanked the interviewer for their kind words before both of you were dismissed. almost immediately, you turned and jogged over to where alanna and harper were playing.
"do you have room for one more?" you asked. as into playing with alanna harper had been, she was quick to go to you. it had been hard for you not being able to play, but still going to practices over the course of the year, and harper was a big part of that. gorry had joked that you and alanna were like her other mothers, something that had always caused alanna to tense up a bit. although, you had noticed that she had seemed more okay with the joke, occasionally having a longing look on her face for the next week or so.
"of course we do, don't we harper? we always have room for prancer, don't we?" you rolled your eyes at the nickname alanna had not-so lovingly given you back at youth camp in australia. truthfully, the two of you had legitimately hated each other a little bit back then, but both of you had done a lot of growing up since then.
"we love prancer," harper said. you knew that she had probably been working on that for a while. harper had never called you that without alanna being directly beside her. alanna nudged her side, and harper stood up to give you a hug. "do you get to play at the game?"
"i do for a little bit, so i can't sit with you on the bench at first, but they don't want to hurt me again, so i'll probably be there for the second half," you told her. harper pouted a little, but she understood. there had been several long talks about you going back on the pitch where you belonged.
harper wordlessly handed you a doll to play with, explaining much better than alanna tried to what was happening. that game didn't last very long due to alanna's antsiness. the three of you played a game of tag, which ended with alanna and harper ganging up on you. alanna picked you up in her arms, gently placing you on the ground where she peppered your face and neck in kisses while harper tickled at your sides until gorry came to get her.
"i was nervous when we got here," you admitted. alanna knew it already, but you had been stubborn in insisting that you were fine. "everybody always says they can't wait for someone else to make their return, but i know what they weren't saying."
"don't think about it like that, okay? think about other things like how harper and i kicked your ass at tag," alanna joked. you punched her in the shoulder, earning you a bite to the thigh. "be nice. if harper sees you being mean to me, she'll think it's okay. i swear that kid loves you more than anybody else sometimes."
"we've become bench buddies, that's all. i bet when we have a kid, they'll love you the most. you'll get to be the fun parents, and i'll have to be strict," you sighed. alanna shot up and stared down at you, a confused, yet hopeful look on her face. "what?"
"what did you say?" alanna asked. you shrugged as you moved up onto your elbows. "you said 'when' not 'if' we have a kid. d-do you want to have kids with me?"
"kids? someone is getting ahead of themselves, but yeah, of course i do. i've been thinking about it, and seeing you with harper confirms it. before you came along and fucked everything up for my little 14 year old self, i was going to accept a promise ring from a boy. who knows how many kids i'd have now?" you said.
"i like the idea of a bunch of little prancers running around, but only if they've got the last name kennedy," alanna said. she leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. you kissed her back, smiling into it a little. "how long have you wanted little kennedy babies?"
"alanna, don't," you tried, but it was too late. she was on something trying to get this out of you. truthfully, it had been before you were even injured, but you knew that you had been lucky then if alanna wanted to admit you were exclusively together at that point. she had fancied herself a player, something that only got worse whenever leila arrived at the club and they became friens.
"come on, i deserve to know. maybe if i've kept you waiting, i'll be sweet," alanna offered. you knew that she would be extremely sweet, but you'd have to get through the annoying phase first.
"fine, the first camp that i said we were together and harper was there. all the girls kept making fun of me because trying to tie you down was still a 'lost cause' or something," you said. alanna did the math in her head. you could tell whenever she had gotten there because a smile broke out on her face. "please don't be an ass about this, okay?"
"you thought i'd be a good parent back then?" alanna asked. you shrugged, unsure of what you had really thought. you just knew that you trusted alanna and wanted to do something special with her. "wow, maybe you really did love me back then too."
"of course i did. alanna, i've never been someone who could sleep with anybody i didn't love." you looked away from her, slightly ashamed of yourself. the girls had teased you a lot about your body count, which was the girl you made yourself fall for to forget about alanna hating you, and alanna herself. they had sort of thought you were joking, especially alanna, until you blew up at them for making fun of you.
"well then, i feel honored to be your person. and as much as i'd love to go to the doctor now and try to get you pregnant, your parents, gorry, and macca would kill me if i did," alanna pointed out. "so, what do we do?"
"let me play this season, and if things don't physically feel right in that way, we can look to starting a family sooner. we don't have to do this any other way than the one we want, remember that." you cradled alanna's face and pressed a kiss to her nose. despite the fact that you wanted a baby then and there, you were fine with waiting until alanna felt more comfortable.
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Is there anything out there yet about a Nika worshiping cult trying to capture Luffy. Because there should be.
Maybe the crew comes a cross an island and the people are way to friendly. It’s giving Zoro flashbacks of Wiskey Peaks and he’s already starting to warn the crew not to trust these people.
But they’re so nice. Offering the crew food (Luffy’s sold)
and taking about a treasure hidden on the island (Nami’s all in as soon as money is brought up)
There are beautiful women who are more then excited to watch Sanji cook (Sanji’s suspicion is gone instantly)
Usopp’s with Zoro, always be cautious. But then they start complimenting the Sunny and Franky is proud to tell them about his baby and Usopp gets roped into talking about his inventions and then people are complimenting him(“come on Zoro-bro lighten up.”)
Brook is entertaining while Sanji cooks, both wrapped up in the tasks and the women around them.
Chopper’s been distracted by all the people complimenting him
The only people still on guard are Robin, Jinbei, and Zoro (no matter how much sake they put in front of him he’s not going to drop his guard. Not when the people seem really focused on his captain.
Robin is indulging the crowd but her eyes are sharp waiting for the Betrayal to come. It’s how she survived for so long and she’s not losing her crew.
Jinbei’s been around for a while and while he starts to drop his guard. (His captain and crew seem content to enjoy themselves, relaxing might not hurt) he hears some whispering of Nika in the crowd. He can’t pin down who is talking or what is being said but he’s not letting his guard drop until he knows their intensions.
Zoro is staying pretty close to Luffy as he watches over the rest of the crew. One of the villagers hands Luffy a drink and he downs it without thinking. And then he starts choking.
His hand goes up to his throat and he can’t breath. There’s no air making its way in. Zoro’s attention is immediately on his captain. Holding him up and trying to figure out what is wrong. The crowd starts to push in towards them and Zoro is quick to draw Wado Ichimonji holding Luffy close with his other hand and calling for the crew.
He can’t draw Sandai Kitetsu yet, she’s screaming for blood and he is to but he can’t give in to that impulse until Luffy is safe with another crew mate and they know what’s going on. It’s the same reason he doesn’t draw Enma who calling for the death of anyone threatening their king. Wado Ichimonji is protective of Luffy, loyal as Zoro and while she also wants to kill anyone who harms their captain she’ll wait until Luffy is out of harms way before demanding blood
The crew quickly gets between the crowd and their captain. Chopper quickly realizing the Luffy’s been poisoned.
Robin demands the antidote, already holding several of the leaders with her devil fruit ability. But the leaders laugh and tell them that there isn’t one. Why would they give him something with an antidote when they were trying to free Nika.
The crew starts to spiral at the first part, there has to be a cure! But then the second phrase registers. What do they mean free Nika?
Jinbei asks, more demands an answer. He can hear Luffy’s struggling gasps getting weaker and weaker and the whole crew is ready to burn the island down if they stop.
The leader smiles and goes on a tangent about how they have waited for Nika and they know he resides with in their captain. And that their prophecy says that to free Nika they need to kill his host.
Right now Nika is suppressed by his hosts consciousness but if the host life is put in danger, if he is about to die Nika will come forward and keep the body alive. They want to bring Nika forward. If they wounded Luffy then Nika would only stay in command until the wound healed. But an incurable poison. Nika will be in control for the rest of time. The sun god will return. And all it will cost is the life of their captain. They should be honored that they get to witness this glorious moment.
The strawhats are losing their minds. They can’t be serious. That’s not how devil fruits work. If they don’t give them the antidote right now they will all die!
Jinbei cuts through all the yelling and tells them they are wrong. He’s seen Luffy at deaths door before and Nika didn’t awaken.
But just as he finishes his sentence. Luffy’s body spasms and he goes rigid before his body goes lax and he fall deathly still. Zoro still has a hold of him and has to witness/feel the whole event as he called out “Luffy!” Alerting the rest of the crew.
For a moment everything is still. Then Luffy’s eyes snap back open but they are a different color. His hair turns stark white, his clothing changes as well. But it’s not like Wano. There is no laughter, no Joy. And isn’t it haunting to look at joyless Joyboy.
He rise up out of Zoro’s hold. He barly looks at his crew and when he does there is no warmth in his eyes.
This is a god that is furious at his host just being taken from him.
This is my base idea. From here I think I would have the crew go on a quest to find a cure for Luffy.
All the while Nika is standing there in Luffy’s place once they leave the island Nika is back to being Joyfull but it’s different from Luffy. They have to stop the god from running off (how do you contain freedom?) he’s laughing and bouncing around but he’s not Luffy. He knows all of them because Luffy thinks of them none stop but it’s that second degree of knowing someone, like meeting a friend of a friend. All of the warmth and love Luffy shows his crew is missing because Nika isn’t Luffy.
#one piece#monkey d. luffy#straw hat pirates#roronoa zoro#one piece zolu#zolu#nami#usopp#one piece brook#Jinbei#vinsmoke sanji#black leg sanji#sanji#nico robin#one piece franky#tony tony chopper#sun god nika#Nika cult au
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sinners
Pairings: Priest Mark x afab Reader
Summary: You’re a sinner. Lucky for you, Father Lee is willing to help you repent.
Genre: smut
Warnings: unprotected rough sex (be safe!), church sex, oral sex, priest/religion kink, masturbation, degradation, fingering, dirty talk, spanking, squirting, boot worship, overstimulation.
Word count: 5k6
a/n: this could be the part 2 every angel sinned but not actually because there's literally no plot, just filth.
Cool fingertips stroked the delicate line of your jaw and the action was innocent enough but it melted your heart into a flash of dripping radiation. Father Lee circled you slowly, his movements reminiscent of a predator calculating the most effective way to pounce on its prey. Those smoldering eyes, veiled beneath the narrow squint and framed by dark lashes, held a magnetic allure that was impossible to resist.
“I reckon you've been a bad girl,” he drawled, his voice dripping like thick honey, saturating the air around you.
His knuckles grazed the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck, their touch leaving a trail of shivers in their wake as they slid over the curve of your shoulder. A chill slithered down your spine, making you tremble, as his fingers hovered just above the tempting expanse between your breasts. You could feel the steady thrum of your heart beneath his touch, as if he were stealing your very essence and claiming it as his own.
“I could smell your cunt from the second you stepped inside this building.”
His voice had dropped several octaves, and you shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath on your skin. The vulgarity of his words had caused you to gasp, but you couldn’t deny the way your mouth watered at the sound of his velvet-smooth voice forming the word 'cunt'.
“I could smell it when you came inside the booth, when you heard my voice.“ His eyes flickered as he paused to take a breath. “When you said my name.”
He spoke almost condescendingly to you now, and you were frozen in place as he pulled down your lower lip, running his thumb over the inside until it was slick with your saliva.
“Most people are afflicted with desires of the flesh,” he said. “But you- your thoughts were remarkable.”
“Father…” you mumbled, looking down to your hands as they fidgeted aimlessly over your lap. Your cheeks were hot and had flushed bright red- from the way Father Lee regarded you, with a predatory hunger woven into the perfect features of his face, you could tell that your shyness only excited him.
“Never have I come across a woman who wanted to be fucked as badly as you do,” he said, so close to you now that his lips brushed against your cheek, sending a surge of electricity through your body. “And as you can imagine, I’ve encountered a myriad of sinners in my day.”
“So what are you gonna do about it?” You breathed, surprising yourself with your sudden bout of bravery. He seemed pleased with this response, raising an eyebrow wryly before standing up straight to look down on you.
“The first sin you’ll repent for will be lust,” he said, and you found yourself biting your bottom lip at his commanding tone. “On your feet.”
You did as you were told, standing up from the pew and presenting yourself for him. Then he circled you, never once allowing you to evade his sight, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he moved; finally he took a seat where you had been seconds before, splaying his palms over his muscular thighs.
You bowed your head respectfully as he observed you from his sitting position, skin burning under the weight of his pale-eyed gaze.
“Take off your clothes,” he said abruptly, crossing his legs and leaning back. “Now.”
Your mouth fell open, but you know better than to protest; there came that feeling again, sharp and prominent, and you quickly worked to pull off your cardigan and discard it on the ground behind you. Next came your sweater and loose-fitting jeans, your hands shaking as you unbuttoned them and tugged them down your thighs, the dark denim pooling at your ankles. Once you’d bent down to take off your boots, you kicked your jeans behind you to join your discarded jacket and sweater.
You wrapped your forearms around your stomach self-consciously, all at once becoming hyper aware of the way your nipples had stiffened, poking noticeably through the thin, un-padded cup of your bra.
Father Lee leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and settling his chin in his palms before shooting you a venomous stare. “All your clothes.”
You nodded, reaching behind yourself to unclasp the hooks of your bra, slipping the straps down your shoulders with a timid reluctance. Pulling away the lace fabric from your breasts, you averted your eyes to the ground as he took in the sight of you.
“When atoning for our sins,” he said softly, stretching his arm out to reach your face, gently guiding your chin to look at him. “We aren’t granted the luxury of modesty.”
He patted your cheek before hooking his fingertips into the waistband of your underwear, which wasn’t much more than a flimsy scrap of black lace. He inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering back into his head as he seemed to be basking in something, though you couldn’t be quite sure what. He pulled them down a few inches, exposing the smooth skin of your pelvis, and impatiently you hurried to meet his hands with yours, helping him tug off the garment altogether.
You were about to toss the underwear alongside the rest of your clothes when he shook his head and held his hand out expectantly.
Furrowing your eyebrows slightly, you handed him the bundle of fabric. You watched with slight embarrassment as he began to level it between his palms, working the material between his fingers as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “They’re drenched,” he remarked finally, lips curling into a disgusted sneer. “You really are a whore, aren’t you? Walking around with soaked panties, mind plagued with vile thoughts- and regarding a man of the cloth, no less.”
Despite the biting nature of his words, you could still see a mischievous sparkle behind his eyes as he pocketed your underwear.
“It’s despicable, really. Pitiful.” His tongue danced over his bottom lip until it gleamed with spit, and with a quick glance downwards you saw that he was hard. “You’re lucky I’m here to help absolve you.”
You ignored the natural impulse to try and cover up, the degrading nature of the situation arousing you far more than you cared to admit. Your center was throbbing painfully now, so intense that it was beginning to distract you, your thoughts roaming without abandon.
“Show me how you touch yourself at night when you’re alone with all those filthy thoughts,” he ordered, reclining again in his seat and casually tucking one hand behind his head. In this position, his erection was impossible to ignore, and your mouth nearly fell agape at the massiveness of the protrusion.
“Y-yes, Father,” you whispered, dizzy with lust as one hand crept towards your inner thigh, easing yourself into the task. You widened your stance, moving your hand to the warm, padded flesh at the top of your thighs, wincing when you discovered the abundance of your juices that had built up there.
“Go on,” he said, sounding as though he were calling a dog over to him. At this your fingers made contact with your neglected, pulsing clit, spreading your wetness as you formed tight, firm circles over it. You whimpered lowly, partly from the pleasure and partly from the thick humiliation blooming in your throat, and he smirked.
“Come on now, we both know you can do better than that,” he chided. “I want to see you fuck yourself.”
You swallowed thickly, pressing a finger undecidedly against your slit. Sensing your hesitation, his demeanor shifted from somewhat playful to completely unamused, and his hand shot out to grip your wrist. He let out a bitter sigh before he spoke, eyes boring so intensely into yours that you shivered.
“I said fuck yourself.”
Your breath hitched and you scrambled to obey his commands, immediately slipping two fingers through your folds and past your entrance. You groaned at the feeling of your walls stretching out, wasting no time before you began to thrust upwards into yourself, struggling to keep yourself balanced as your knees weakened with your impending orgasm.
“You don’t really expect me to believe that slutty cunt of yours can only take two fingers, do you?” he said, and with a labored breath you shoved a third finger inside, gritting your teeth at the intrusion.
The sound of your fingers pumping in and out of your pussy was nothing short of vulgar, and you shut your eyes tightly in an attempt to ward off the shame that was rapidly engulfing you.
“Harder,” came his harsh command, and you tried your best to comply, curling your fingers and pushing roughly against your spongy inner walls.
You were a panting mess, forehead shining with perspiration and lips bitten red and swollen, when he finally stopped you. It was cruel, the way he’d waited patiently until you were on the brink of release, but you couldn’t bring yourself to complain; this was a punishment, after all.
Wiping your glistening moisture across your thighs, you pulled your fingers from yourself; then, looking over at Father Lee, you wrapped your lips around them and sucked off the remaining wetness.
He stood up, casting you over with his shadow as he towered above you. Stepping around to face you, he used the back of his sleeve to wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed by your hairline, a look of sincere tenderness on his face as he did so. That tenderness, however, was short-lived, and within seconds he’d returned to his unforgiving stance.
“Kneel.”
You did without having to be asked twice, knees instantly making contact with the faded, discolored carpet.
“I suppose it wouldn’t be entirely necessary to have you repent for the sin of pride. It’s quite clear just by looking at you that you have none left. Void of any dignity, on your knees, writhing in desperation like a bitch in heat.”
You blinked at him with eyes as wide and innocent as a doe’s, pressing your legs together as a fresh wave of arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach. You knew that he was merely teasing you, hoping to convince you that you were exempt from his punishment, but you knew better. There was no way he was planning to grant you any mercy- you could see it in his eyes as he leered coldly upon you, his pretty mouth pressed into a thin line.
“But,” he continued, just as you’d expected. “Just to be certain that you’ll be absolved, you will repent anyway.”
He lifted one leg and planted his foot on the seat of the pew, presenting you with a well-shined, expensive looking shoe, the toe of which formed into a dangerous point. “Clean it. With your mouth.”
You raised an eyebrow at the man but did not argue, fearing that he’d punish you more severely if you disobeyed. His shoe looked clean enough, not a single scuff to be seen in the shining leather, and, scooting yourself closer to the pew, you ran the tip of your tongue along the side of it experimentally. It didn’t taste like much, which helped to ease your worries, and it wasn’t before long that you were flattening your tongue and lapping at the stiff material like your life depended on it.
“Good girl,” he praised, but there was little kindness behind the encouragement. He rolled his heel back so the sole of his shoe was in your face, and with a nearly inaudible huff you began to lick up and down the patterned grooves.
Cringing at the thought of all the germs you were letting into your mouth, you were relieved when he pulled away and jutted your chin up towards him with the tip of his shoe.
“Turn and face me,” he said, taking a step back and folding his hands behind him. You shifted away from the pew so that you were eye-level with his crotch now, eyes falling to the straining bulge in the front of his dark, immaculately pressed slacks.
A ray of red-tinted light spilled through the stained glass window behind him, bouncing off the black stone of his ring as he trailed his fingers towards his belt. At a teasingly slow pace, he freed his belt from its hold, the room silent save for the soft clinking of the metal buckle.
“Most often overlooked by humanity is the sin of gluttony,” he said. He tugged down his zipper and unbuttoned his pants, taking a moment to palm at his bulge obscenely before reaching inside to retrieve himself.
“What do you hunger for, hm?” he asked, hissing as he cupped himself inside his pants. You could see his hand sliding up and down his length just out of your sight, and you stifled the sudden compulsion to reach into his trousers and grab him.
“Do you have cravings that can’t ever seem to be satiated?” His words flowed rhythmically, tone so soft you could almost swear he was singing to you. “Do you take all that’s given to you only to find that you’re still starving?”
You bobbed your head up and down, frantic and needy, parting your lips when at last he revealed himself to you. Though you’d been acquaintanced with his cock before, you couldn’t help but be taken aback by how big it was, thick and flushed deep pink at the tip. He ran his thumb over the swollen head, smearing a bead of precum across the toughened skin around his slit.
You felt lightheaded, overwhelmed at the pure, erotic beauty of this man, whom you’d so willingly allowed to defile you (and in a fucking church, of all places).
“You’re a ravenous little thing, aren’t you?” he mocked, fucking his hips into his loose fist with a throaty grunt. You kept your hands on your thighs, awaiting further instructions, growing restless with each passing second that his cock wasn’t in your mouth or hand.
God, you really were gluttonous.
He looked ethereal from where you knelt, full lips curved into a perfect “o” shape as he jerked himself over your face. It was fascinating to witness such a man allow himself to come undone like this, chest rising and falling and sweat forming on his brow with each stroke of his thick cock.
Tilting his head back towards the ceiling, he let out a guttural moan, quickening his tempo and bringing himself closer and closer to the edge. You were so turned on that you were fairly sure your juices must’ve dripped onto the carpet by now, a filthy proclamation of your desire; the uncomfortable throb of your cunt only intensified as you witnessed him nearing his orgasm, breaths strangled and raspy.
He peered down at you, wetting his lips. “Open your mouth.”
You unhinged your jaw, angling your head under his cock like you knew he wanted. He pumped along his shaft a few more times before releasing a silky stream of hot, salty cum into your open mouth, an animalistic bellow of pleasure floating from his lips like music.
“Don’t even think about swallowing it.”
You felt his thick load begin to settle on the back of your tongue, but you ignored the instinctive urge to swallow. He tucked himself back into his pants, fastening his belt before sitting back down on the pew. He patted his thighs, eyeing you sternly, and obediently you approached him and settled yourself on his lap.
His warm thigh pushed against your core with little mercy as soon as you sat down, and you found yourself grinding down against it, chasing the pleasure that he hadn’t yet allowed you to obtain. At this, he landed his palm sharply against your thigh.
“My personal favorite sin is wrath,” Father Lee said, placing his hands on your hips to keep you from wriggling around on his leg. “It’s both fascinating and amusing to see all the horrible things people can be pushed to do, all because of a little bit of rage.”
He lifted you up slightly and pulled your upper body over his lap; you complied with his adjustment, situating yourself so that you were laid fully across him, your hair falling in your face as your head hung forward- you clamped your jaw shut as tightly as you could manage, terrified of what might happen should you let a single drop of his load fall from you. His hand grazed the tender junction between your ass and thigh and you shuddered, whining when he wedged his knee back between your legs.
“I can feel the rage that’s burning deep inside you, my child,” he said, gathering your hands behind your back and holding them together at the wrist. He used his other hand to push down on the small of your back, in turn applying pressure to your soaked cunt with his knee; you cried out, the sound muffled through your closed lips.
“Do you ever wonder when your grip on your own sanity will spiral and you’ll finally snap?” You stiffened your jaw, praying you wouldn’t mistakenly let anything drip, the texture of his load seeming to become denser the longer it sat on your tongue. You couldn’t afford to be disgusted by the way it’d grown bitter and cold, coating the inside of your mouth with each minimal movement of your head.
“Answer me,” he growled, kneading your ass cheek hard enough that you felt his fingernails cutting into your delicate skin.
A pitiful “M-mhm,” was all you could muster.
“Such an angry girl,” he stated, voice dripping with faux-sympathy as he circled his fingertips over your thighs, preparing you for what was to come. “We can’t have that, now can we?”
Without warning he slapped your ass so hard that you nearly forgot about the cum inside your mouth, your body surging forward before he caught you and brought you back. He allowed you no time to recover from the blow, administering a second hit to the opposite side of your ass. You ground your teeth, eyes watering in both pain and focus as you fought to keep your mouth shut. He hit you again with even more sadistic aggression than the first two times, and inadvertently a tear dropped past your waterline and down your hot cheek.
He continued his ruthless assault on your ass, each smack harder than the last, until he landed a particularly intense one that you were sure would leave a red handprint on your skin. The force was almost enough to cause you to scream, and for a moment your lips parted, unable to bring one hand to stifle yourself given his bruising hold on your wrists. In turn, a small stream of cum dribbled from the corner of your mouth and down your chin.
You hoped he hadn’t noticed, but realized you’d had no such luck when he released your wrists and instead grabbed a fistful of your hair. Yanking your head back, he lowered himself so that he could speak gruffly into your ear, tracing shapes over the irritated skin of your ass.
“Make a mess and I’ll have no choice but to extend your punishment,” he warned. He waited for you to nod in understanding before releasing your hair, straightening himself again and promptly making contact with the swollen expanse of your backside.
Taking deep breaths, you kept your eyes squeezed shut while he beat down on you over and over; you probably would’ve enjoyed the spanking had it not been for the added responsibility of keeping a load of cum in your mouth, and you were beginning to fidget. His knee was still being held unyieldingly against your crotch, his slacks no doubt slick with your arousal, the friction sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body each time you twitched.
It was clear that the act of punishing you had gotten him hard again, the rigid length of his cock pressing into your side as he hit you.
“This aroused you,” he said flatly, as though it had only been just now that he’d come to that conclusion. “But I shouldn’t be surprised. It doesn’t matter how you’re being touched, does it? You’re so needy that you’re just grateful you’re being touched at all.”
He let out a taunting laugh, running his fingers through the back of your knotted hair. “You may swallow now.”
You followed his instructions right away, gasping in relief once his load was all gone. The inside of your mouth still tasted like him, the vaguest hint of savory sweetness on your tastebuds. After spending a few seconds stroking your raw ass in steady, soothing motions, he grabbed your sides, manhandling you until you were back in a sitting position on the edge of his knees. For the second time during your encounter, he unbuckled his belt, shimmying his pants and boxers partly down his thighs and allowing his cock to spring free.
You knew better than to succumb to your desires, stomach churning with want at the mouth-watering sight of his erection. All you wanted was to feel him- pump your fist along his veined shaft, wrap your lips around his warm skin, glide down his length until you were convinced you could feel him deep in your belly. He was right- you didn’t care how he chose to touch you. You just wanted to be touched.
“It’s time for you to repent for the sin of sloth, my child,” he said, massaging the tip of his cock with his thumb. “Spoiled little sluts like you are always far too accustomed to being given everything they want without ever having to lift a finger.”
He took hold of your upper thighs, pinching the curves while he guided you so that you were straddling him. Your breath caught in your throat; you were so close to what you wanted you could almost taste it.
“Is this what you desire?” he asked you, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist and moving your hand to his cock. Instinctively you grasped it, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you traced along the prominent veins adorning his shaft.
“Yes,” you said breathlessly. “God, yes.”
“You should know better than to use the lord’s name in vain in the presence of a priest,” he teased, his breath hot on your neck. He ghosted his lips against your jugular, just barely placing an open-mouthed kiss against it, erupting your body into chills.
“Please,” you all but whimpered. You were subconsciously rolling your hips down on his lap, desperate for any sort of release, and he reached forward to firmly hold you still.
“Work for it.” He placed his hands down on either side of him, lips just slightly curling upwards at the corners as he resigned to resting with his back against the pew.
You eased yourself forward, holding his cock upright by the base. Lifting yourself up, you grazed the flushed head along your slit and dipped it past your entrance, jaw already unhinging at the slight penetration. Heart pounding, you slid down onto him, tears springing to your eyes at the sheer intensity of his thickness stretching out your narrow walls.
“Oh fuck,” you grunted, eyes rolling back into your head when all at once he filled you to the hilt. Father Lee remained motionless, but you could see the way he sucked his lower lip into his mouth at the feeling of your pussy enveloping him, and from the back of his throat came a low hiss.
“That’s it,” he said encouragingly, clearly unable to contain himself as he began kneading your tits in his hands. You squealed, just barely rocking yourself, still trying to get used to having something so massive inside of you. “I want you to fuck yourself on my cock. Can you do that for me?”
“Y-yes, Father,” you said, reaching over his shoulders and gripping the edge of the pew with both hands to support yourself. He repositioned his hands so that they cupped your abused ass, latching his mouth onto your sensitive nipple and swirling his tongue over the peak as you hoisted yourself up.
You brought your ass back down, losing your breath all over again as he nibbled at your hardened areola. You were already beginning to work up a sweat, but still you continued to fuck yourself as you’d been instructed to, gaining momentum with each bounce of your hips.
The lewd sound of slapping skin rang throughout the empty room, melding with the strangled, depraved moans escaping your throats. Never before had you experienced such unadulterated ecstasy, and you weren’t sure that you ever would again. You were insatiable, slamming your hips down at an almost painful rhythm, knuckles turning white over the edge of the pew. The head of his cock reached your cervix and you saw stars, unable to think of anything but your impending orgasm and the beautiful man beneath you.
“Fuck, oh fuck, Father, please-“ came your incoherent cries, burying your head in the crook of his neck to more closely listen to his own sounds of pleasure. He was far less vocal than you were, being the composed man he was, but it was obvious that he, too, was coming undone by the way he was clutching your ass, forceful enough to leave bruises.
He growled, bucking his hips up to meet you, sending streams of tears flowing down your cheeks. It hurt, but you loved the pain, craved it, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to forget this for weeks.
“Fuck- I-I’m close,” you croaked, blinking away a bead of sweat that had fallen into your eye, heart hammering violently in your chest.
With that, he pushed you up off of him with such power that you stumbled back and fell onto your ass, his cock leaving you just as you were about to unravel. You sniffled pathetically, watching with glassy eyes as he rose to his feet, cock shining from the wetness of your cunt.
“Envy,” he said, glaring down at you, “Is the most laughable of the cardinal sins. Desiring what others have while ignoring your own blessings is truly humanity’s biggest flaw.”
He leaned down to thread his fingers through the hair at the top of your head, yanking you upright by the root so you were on your knees. “I know what you desire, pathetic girl. Release. Unfortunately for you, though, I’m the only one getting any of that today.”
He was taunting you, enjoying the distress evidently plastered across your face as he coerced open your jaw. Then he thrust his cock into your mouth, forcing you to taste your own arousal coating him, quickly deciding on a rapid, merciless pace to fuck your face with.
You couldn’t do much more than gag, taking shallow breaths through your nose as he pushed himself into your throat, using your hair as reigns to direct you.
You felt his cock twitch, and then your nose was pressed flush against the neatly trimmed blond curls surrounding his pelvis, one hand keeping you in place as warm spurts of cum shot down your throat. When he was sure that you’d consumed every last drop of his load, he let you go, tossing you onto your side like a rag doll.
Sobbing softly, you drew your knees to your chest, too humiliated to lock eyes with the stoic man who had reduced you to this. You were nothing more than a sniveling mess, defiled and debased, throat aching and lips trembling.
And yet still, somehow, your cunt was pulsing, screaming to be touched.
“Please, Father,” you mumbled in a daze, unsure if you’d even spoken at all once the words had left your mouth. “Please.”
He looked sinfully delicious from where he stood, towering above you as you lay sprawled across the floor, and with disappointment you watched him put away his dick. Using what little energy you had left, you tugged at the pristine hem of his pants, and he tilted his head inquisitively, a small smile creeping across his lips at your hopeless state.
“Please. I don’t know what you want me to do. Just— please.” You got onto your knees, nuzzling your cheek against his thigh like a cat begging to be fed.
“Please what, my child?” he asked, voice dripping with condescension. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, wiping away your partially-dried tears in the process. “Was this not enough for you? My cock filling your mouth, your cunt? You’re asking me for more, when I’ve given you so much already?”
You lowered your eyes, ashamed.
“How fitting, then, that your last sin to repent for is greed.”
He gripped your upper arm and jerked you to your feet, casting you haphazardly onto the pew. He licked his lips, admiring the view of your naked body strewn across the wood, your chest splotchy and red.
“You want to cum? Is that what you want?” he demanded, sinking to his knees and prodding apart your thighs. When you didn’t reply, he gave your inner thigh a hard slap. “Answer me.”
“Oh god,” you sighed, melting at the tantalizing feeling of air blowing against your pussy when he spoke. “Y-yes.”
“Hm,” he hummed, entwining his arms with your thighs so he could keep them apart, “Very well, if that’s really what you want.”
He lunged forward unexpectedly, burying his face in your cunt, lapping vigorously between your folds and gathering your sticky secretion on his tongue. You moaned wildly, one hand tangling with his flaxen waves, unintentionally rolling your pelvis against his face. Drawing his tongue between your outer lips, he met your bud at the very top and enclosed his lips around it, adding just enough suction that you were overwhelmed. Writhing helplessly against him, you screamed out as he dropped one of your thighs and impaled you with two of his fingers.
He was cruel, the way he pounded his fingers inside of you unrelentingly, his mouth working fervently at your clit. The edges of your vision blurred, and it wasn’t long before your stomach was dropping, indicating your approaching climax.
“I- I’m- fuck!”
He flicked your bud once more with the tip of his tongue, and then you were cumming, head thrown back in euphoria as your orgasm consumed you.
Your cunt vibrated as Father Lee snickered against it, and it was then that you registered the truth of the matter: you were well and truly fucked. He had no intentions of letting you breathe, instead continuing to toy with your throbbing clit, a third finger pressing inside you with a filthy squelch.
“Shit-“ you sobbed, his tongue forming brisk shapes over your bundle of nerves, fingers effortlessly working you open. You had no choice but to take it; the pleasure coursing through you was so potent that it was becoming unbearable, but you were sure that had been his goal, to punish you with the very thing you’d been yearning for.
He turned his fingers inside you, angling them to hit the deepest spots that nobody else had ever been able to reach. He curled them, brushing against something spongy and sensitive, and for a moment all you could see was white as you came for a second time.
Just as you’d feared, he didn’t stop; now he was sucking so ardently on your clit that you could hardly move, falling limply on the back of the pew, legs weak and numb under his iron grip. He continued to drive his fingers deep inside you, your body shaking feebly each time his fingers grazed your cervix.
“Father- please, no m-more,” you pleaded, but he only laughed, spreading apart his fingers inside you to stretch you further. He retracted from your clit with a noisy pop, and you were about to breathe a sigh of relief, until he removed his fingers from your core and used them to replace his lips.
“N-no, it’s too much, please!” You were crying now, struggling against his mouth as he moved his head downwards to lick stripes up between your folds, his thumb forming circles over your defenseless clit.
He sucked one of your outer lips into his mouth before delving deep into your entrance, starting to fuck you with his skillful tongue. You could feel that well-known dip in your belly yet again, and the muscles of your thighs tensed and contracted when he pinched your clit between two fingers.
The coil in your stomach snapped without warning, and then you were cumming; this time, however, was different- a wave of clear liquid shot out from your overstimulated cunt, soaking his face and the front of his shirt.
He backed away, finally, lips pulling into an evil grin as he examined the mess you’d made. You were wide-eyed, shocked at your newfound ability, sweat-stained chest rising and falling. You were sure in other circumstances you’d have been embarrassed, but right now you were far too exhausted to care.
“You’re a messy little thing,” he laughed, wiping his mouth off with the back of his sleeve and licking his damp fingers clean. “So what do you think? Have you learned your lesson?”
“Y-yes, Father,” you said, shutting your legs protectively just in case he decided to go for one more round.
“Good.” He returned to his feet, looking just as pristine as he had when you’d first seen him, save for his gently tousled hair. “And what do you say, after I’ve gone through all this trouble to ensure your absolution?” He questioned you as though you were a petulant child, resting his hands on his hips.
“Thank you, Father.”
#mark lee smut#mark smut#nct smut#nct 127 smut#nct u smut#nct dream smut#kpop fanfic#nct fanfic#mark fanfic#mark lee fanfic#nct 127 fanfic#nct dream fanfic
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He Hung Up
Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader
Summary: “Ooh,” you said excited, jumping up from the couch. You reached out making a grabby hand already. “Give me the phone, I’m great at pissing people off.”
Warnings: Violent Threats
Word Count: 3k
Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
You and your friends trudged up the many many steps to the Carpenter sister’s apartment. You were at a party with your girlfriend and her friends when a drunk frat guy decided to get a little handsy. Luckily for you or more like lucky for him Sam showed up. Sam tasing him was generous because if you had gotten your hands on him for what he was about to do with Tara you would have beaten the shit out of him.
Sam also showing up meant Tara had been caught. Meaning you were now all in trouble for going to the party. Chad and his roommate Ethan took up the rear, while Mindy and her girlfriend Anika, held hands giggling and walking as close together as they could get as if they were in their own little world. You were in front of them while your girlfriend and her sister led the way, arguing, like usual.
You had been holding Tara’s hand, but she really liked gesturing wildly when she got into it with Sam, so she eventually dropped your hand. You tried intervening a few times but after Sam stopped, turning her furious glare onto you, you quickly shut your mouth and dropped your eyes to the ground. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan of you already and as much as you wanted to stick up for your girlfriend, even though you agreed with her sister to an extent, you didn’t want to add any more reasons for Sam to hate you. You knew Tara didn’t care about Sam’s opinions when it came to you, but you still wanted the older Carpenter to like you, at this point you were grasping at anything to win you points.
When you got to the apartment you all piled in, you and Anika dropping onto the couch, Ethan shuffling himself into a chair off to the side. Sam quickly locked the several locks on the door before moving into the kitchen with the other three. You could hear the core four as Chad had stupidly nicknamed them all whisper arguing about the night’s events. Quinn slipped out of her room after hearing the commotion you all must have been making and plopped herself down in the other chair.
Your eyes had drifted to the TV that Anika had turned on though she kept the volume muted. You weren’t paying attention until you noticed it wasn’t just a normal boring news report.
“Hey guys,” you shouted getting the others’ attention. “You need to see this.” You reached for the remote, turning up the volume as the others re-entered the room.
Everyone was silent as the story played. Some college students were killed and a Ghostface mask was left at the scene.
“Oh, hey it’s those weird guys from class,” you commented when the news threw up a picture of the two students who were killed. “That one,” you pointed to the picture that had the name Jason under it, “is the creepy one that always stares at you.” You turned to give Tara a I told you so look.
“He didn’t stare at me,” Tara weakly defended.
“He paid more attention to you than to the class.”
“How would you know?” Tara raised a brow. “Unless you weren’t paying attention either.”
“I’m your girlfriend,” you put a hand to your heart. “When I stare at you it’s adorable.”
Tara didn’t say anything more, she just playfully rolled her eyes.
Tara had turned her attention back to the TV, but you couldn’t take your eyes off her. The class you shared with the weird Jason kid was where you first met Tara. She sat next to you and despite it being the first day you were completely unprepared, you had asked her to borrow a pen then ten seconds later asked for a sheet of paper.
After that first class you slowly started trying to talk to her during quiet moments of class or if you were lucky and she got there early enough before class. You could listen to her all day discuss the deeper meaning of her ‘elevated’ horror movies.
You were sitting in the very spot you were now on her couch a few months ago. You had come over to Tara’s place to work on a paper for class, she was hesitant because her sister didn’t like unknown guests, but she said since her sister would be at therapy it would be fine. And you were fine, quietly working on your paper, stealing subtle glances at Tara.
You had been crushing on her hard since you first saw her but didn’t have the courage to do anything about it. With her history you weren’t sure she wanted anything more than friendship. During one of your subtle glances though you caught Tara openly staring at you. You dropped your pen, turning with the intention to ask if everything was okay when she leaned forward, grabbing you by the back of the head and pulling you into a kiss.
You instantly reciprocated the kiss, turning your body to fully face her. You brought up both of your hands, running them through her hair. You could feel her smile into the kiss as she pulled you closer, deepening the kiss even more.
You broke away, lightly laughing when you needed air. You shyly looked at Tara, despite the fact that you had just been making you, you saw her wearing the same smile as you.
“Sorry,” she said. “I waited so long, and it didn’t seem like you were ever going to make a move.”
You silently laughed, nodding before pulling her in for another kiss. You repositioned so you were kneeling on the couch, Tara doing the same. She started to slip your jacket off, neither of you breaking the kiss. You were both so caught up you didn’t hear the door open. You didn’t break apart until someone angrily cleared their throat, followed by a loud door slam.
You both jumped apart. You pulled your jacket back on, clearing your throat as if you hadn’t just been caught doing what you were about to do. You glanced towards the door to see Tara’s sister fuming.
“Sam,” Tara said, trying to sound casual. “You’re home early. How was therapy?”
You didn’t move, you didn’t say anything, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Sam. You had just been making out with Tara and now her sister was home and blocking your only path out. She hadn’t acknowledged her sister in any way, she just continued to glare at you.
“Get out,” is the only thing Sam said.
You quickly shot to your feet, throwing your stuff into your bag, and swinging the strap over one shoulder, not bothering to zip the bag up. You turned to Tara, smiled, and gave a thumbs up, then quickly scurried out of the apartment as Sam stepped out of the way, opening the door for you. You didn’t turn back but you could feel Sam’s burning gaze in the back of your skull. She hadn’t stopped glaring at you to this day.
You were brought back to the present when you heard Tara gasp and saw her eyes widen. You turned back to the TV and saw it.
“Holy shit,” you said, leaning forward to make sure you were seeing correctly. “That’s our film studies professor.”
The news reporter continued, saying how your professor was found stabbed to death in an alley. Then went on to say that the knife used was found in Jason’s apartment with his prints on it.
“Damn, I guess class is cancelled next week,” you said. You turned to say something else, but Tara was giving you a deadpanned look while Sam was once again glaring at you. You really needed to learn to shut up sometimes.
“We’re leaving, pack your stuff,” Sam announced, breaking her silence for the first time.
“Wait, what?” Tara asked. “We don’t even know if this has anything to do with us. It’s Halloween, there are thousands of people dressed up.” Tara tried to find any excuse to not leave. She turned back to you with a worried look. “Quinn!” she quickly turned to her roommate. “Call your dad, see what he knows.”
Quinn nodded, pulling out her phone. Before Quinn could start the call though another phone rang. Everyone in the room froze. All heads turned to Sam as she fished out her phone from her back pocket.
Tara moved closer to her sister, looking down at the phone. They both just stared at it in Sam’s hand as it continued to ring, no one moving to answer it.
“Ooh,” you said excited, jumping up from the couch. You reached out making a grabby hand already. “Give me the phone, I’m great at pissing people off.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Sam mumbled. You pouted but took the phone. She didn’t hand it to you, but she made no move to stop you.
“Hello?” you asked, a smile playing at your lips.
There was heavy breathing on the other end before, “You’re not Samantha.”
“No, sorry, she can’t come to the phone right now. May I take a message?”
“Put Samantha on the phone. I want to play a game with her.”
“Really?” you scrunched up your nose, looking towards Sam. “Have you met her? She’s not much fun.” Sam glared at you. “However, I’m much more fun. I love playing games, especially with her sister.” You winked at Tara who switched to glaring at you as well. You smiled, trying to keep in your laugh.
“Give Samantha the phone or my knife will find a home in your heart.”
“Sorry, my heart is already taken.” You winked at Tara again. She stopped glaring at you but only to roll her eyes at your antics.
“Don’t worry I’ll make sure to carve it out and deliver it her.”
“Well, I have always said the best presents come from the heart.”
“Stupid girl, do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”
“Let’s see, late night phone call, death threats, ominous creepy sounding voice,” you mumbled off. You tilted your head as if you were thinking really hard about who could possibly be on the phone.
“You really have a death wish, don’t you child?”
“Wait wait wait,” you said excitedly. “Wait, am I talking to the one and only Ghostface?” You paused, furrowing your brow as your eyes left the group of friends and drifted up to the ceiling in thought. “Well technically there’s usually two of you and technically you’re like the,” you started silently counting, using your fingers to keep track, “the tenth one? Whatever, anyway, it’s an honor.”
“I will gut you,” Ghostface growled out.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure. Can I make a request about my death?” You turned to your friends who were watching you with curious looks, waiting to see what you’d do next. “Just make sure I suffer. I don’t want to go out easy.” You started pacing, your friends now going from curious to concerned. Even Sam seemed concerned, it brought a small smile to your face, maybe this was how you won her over.
“My knife will carve out your insides.”
“Oh my god,” you whispered shyly. “Who told you I was into knife play?”
You turned back to your friends when you heard a cough only to see Chad choking on his water. Mindy was smacking her brother on the back to help him out. He seemed to be trying to keep the water in his mouth through the coughing, but he was clearly failing as the water finally sprayed out of his mouth. You rolled your eyes as Chad doubled over in a coughing fit. Sam and Tara ignored him as they continued to watch you.
“Has anyone ever told you how irritating you are?” Ghostface asked. He was using a voice changer, but you could swear he sounded tired.
“I’m an acquired taste,” you said. You shot your girlfriend a glare as you caught her nodding in agreement. She stopped when she caught your glaring, smiling innocently and mouthing ‘love you’. “Now for my death,” you continued, getting back to the important stuff. “Remember, slow and painful. I’m not just some side character.” You spun around pointing your finger even though you weren’t facing Ghostface. Though when you thought about it, he was probably watching you. “I’m not just some character that’s written off with a quick death. No, I’m the memorable bitch. I might not be the main but I’m the death you remember, you feel me?”
There was a long silence as you waited for his response. Your friends all leaned closer waiting for what would happen next even though they could only hear your side of the conversation. You furrowed your eyebrows when it had been over twenty seconds of silence.
“Hello? Hello?” you asked, pulling the phone away from your ear to look at the screen. “Hmm,” you hummed, tilting your head at the blank screen. “He hung up.”
You sighed, shaking your head as you turned back to your friends. You held out your hand, handing the phone back to Sam as you saw the shocked expressions of your friends. Everyone was staring at you wide eyed and mouths agape.
“So, does this mean I won or that I’m gonna die even more horribly than originally planned?” You asked. You raised your eyebrows waiting for a response as they continued to stare at you.
“You got Ghostface to hang up on you,” Mindy said in disbelief.
You shrugged. “I just have a way with some people.”
“Okay, I think it’s time we called it a night,” Sam said, pushing off from the dining table she had been leaning against.
“Can Y/N stay the night?” Tara asked, coming to stand by you.
You smiled as Tara wrapped her arms around your mid-section. You quickly put an arm around her, you would never turn down a hug and potential cuddles. You looked up at Sam with a smile. Sam shot you a tired glare, but you kept the smile on.
“Tara,” Sam groaned. “One phone call doesn’t mean I like her.”
You lost your smile, pouting at the older Carpenter. You had thought you did pretty good with the phone call. You had actually kind of enjoyed it, minus all the death threats you got.
“But she’s in danger now,” Tara argued. “If we send her back to her dorm alone then Ghostface can attack her and after that phone call he’s going to kill her horribly and painfully.”
“Wait what?” You asked, you head going back and forth between your girlfriend and her sister.
Sam tilted her head, raising her eyebrows slightly. Her head bounced around as she seemed to debate Tara’s words. You swallowed, gripping Tara a little tighter as you pulled her closer to you. You knew Sam wasn’t the biggest fan of you, but you didn’t think when it came down to your life that it was actually up for debate.
“Sam!” Tara snapped when it seemed like Sam had started to lean more towards sending you on your way.
Sam sighed, rolling her eyes. She had a small smile on her face, a smile she tended to only reserve for Tara when she was messing with her. “Alright, fine,” Sam said. “She can stay the night.” Sam lost her smile as she turned her attention back to you. She slowly made her way closer, glaring at you without blinking. “No funny business,” she pointed her finger threateningly at you. “Or I will throw you out.”
You nodded your head rapidly, letting out a small sigh of relief. Sam smiled sweetly as she turned away from you to face the others, but you could still see the lingering threat in her eyes. You shifted, tightening your grip on Tara again. She looked up at you smiling and despite just being threatened by her sister you couldn’t help but smile back. You were excited to be able to cuddle your girlfriend all night without the worries of waking up early to sneak out.
“Do you guys want to stay as well?” Sam asked the rest of the group.
“Nah, we’re good,” Chad said.
Sam nodded and walked them to the door. Chad and Ethan left, followed by Mindy and Anika who were wrapped up in a hug. Sam instantly got to locking the various locks on the door. Quinn pushed off her chair and went to her room with only a wave as a goodnight.
“Wait,” you said, causing Sam and Tara to look at you. “How much danger am I actually in?”
Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m going to bed,” is all she said. She walked past you and Tara and made her way to her room. “Goodnight!” she called out, giving a final wave of her hand before you heard the room to her door close.
“But seriously, am I next?” you shrieked, leaning back to look Tara in the eye.
Tara bobbed her head back and forth, opening her mouth to say, “Well-”
“Oh god!”
“Baby don’t worry,” Tara placed a hand on your chest in an attempt to comfort you. “I’ll protect you. For now,” she moved out of your embrace, moving her hand down until she could intertwine it with yours. “Let’s enjoy this rare occasion of you not having to sneak out and go cuddle.”
You succeeded in your goal to piss off Ghostface it seemed. Your life was in even more danger than it was before by just dating Tara, Sam willingly allowing you to stay the night at the apartment confirmed that. Though you were reasonably terrified of your potentially upcoming death you couldn’t focus on that. The girl you were crazy about was standing before you and asking you to cuddle. You wordlessly nodded, allowing her to drag you to her room. You would never deny her after all.
#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x fem reader#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter imagine#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#scream#scream 6#scream vi#he hung up
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was i such a fool? | mark webber
part 1
ENGLAND
You felt embarrassed. You didn’t know who was the person who spread the confirmed rumor around the paddock, but you knew that being in the paddock was the last thing you wanted to do.
Your daughter, Grace, had been reading in her room while you were in your home office replying to some emails. Zak had let you get some time off, which you were hesitant to take at first but you knew how chaotic it was going to get in the paddock if you were present.
“Mommy!” Grace called for you from her room.
“What is it, my love?” You asked, closing your laptop as you stood up and walked to her room. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, i finished my book. Can we go to the bookstore and get more?” Grace asked.
“Of course we can, baby.” You replied. As you were about to leave to go back to your office, Grace spoke once again.
“Can I go to a race?”
Grace had never attended a race before. She knew what your job was and why it required you to travel so much, but she never once attended a race. It surprised you that she even thought about it.
“A race . . .” You sighed. “You really want to go to a race?”
Grace nodded. “I want to see the fast cars.”
You thought about it for a second. It would be nice for Grace to see a race after years of only seeing it on tv. But then again only several people knew that she existed and you liked it that way.
“I’ll think about it.”
TIME SKIP TO ABU DHABI 2022
MCLAREN GARAGE
Grace watched as several men dressed in orange with helmets on sat in their chairs. She was introduced to the pit crew by you. Everyone on the team was more than happy to meet her. She was extremely excited to be able to watch her first race in person.
“I’ll be over there watching the race, okay? Stay here with Lucy.” You told Grace. Lucy was an old friend from school. When you explained that Grace wanted to attend a race, she offered to look after the girl while you worked.
“Okay. I love you.” Grace gave you a kiss on the cheek.
“I love you more, my love.” You replied and hugged her before you left.
From a distance, Mark watched the girl wave goodbye to you. It made him feel like the worst person ever. How could he do that to you? You never deserved it. You were always so supportive of him, comforting him when he needed it and that all changed the second Mark kissed someone else.
He thought about going up to Grace and making small talk, but he knew you wouldn’t like it. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t want to upset you even more. Seeing her, so close yet so far away, brought sadness to the older man’s heart. She had his eyes, his smile, they even shared the same laughter, something you loved when you were dating Mark.
By the end of the race, he had decided to talk to you.
He tried to find you, but it seemed like you knew he wanted to talk so you hid from him. Only it wasn’t like that. Grace wanted to walk on the track so you took her. Lucy was tired so you told her that you would meet her back at the hotel. She held your hand as you and her walked around. It was a perfect moment for you and your daughter.
“Did you enjoy your first race?” You asked.
“Yes! The cars go faster than on the tv, it was so cool!” Grace exclaimed. “Can I go to another race?”
“You’ll have to wait until next year, my love, and you have school. I don’t want you missing a day of school because of a race.” You explained.
“Okay. . .” She sighed. “Who was the man that was in the garage?” She suddenly asked.
“There’s a lot of men in there, Grace.”
“He didn’t wear orange like the rest of the team. He had one of these too.” Grace pointed to her paddock pass. “I think Lucy said he used to be a driver.”
You had an idea of who Grace was talking about and you didn’t like it.
When you made it back to the Mclaren garage, you saw that it was almost empty. A few members of the pit crew were cleaning up, but that didn’t catch your attention. It was Mark that was pacing around the garage.
“Mommy, that’s the man I was talking about.” Grace whispered to you.
Mark noticed your presence and stopped pacing. “Hi.” Was all that he said.
“It’s getting late, Mark. You should go back to your hotel room, get some sleep. I know you don’t like early morning flights.” You said to the Australian.
“Hear me out, please. Just this once and I’ll leave you alone. Give me five minutes.” He pleaded. The remaining pit crew took that as a sign to give you privacy so they left.
Grace held onto your hand even tighter. “Who’s that?” She whispered again to you.
“His name is Mark.” You said.
Four words was all it took to break Mark Webber even more. He was just Mark to his daughter and he had to accept that.
“Three minutes and that’s it.” You said.
“I’ll take that.”
@glow-ish @vicurious28 @dannyriccsupremacy @viennakarma @pear-1206 @nathalielovesonedirection @jaydaaasworld @shimmermotorsport @honethatty12 @a-beaverhausen
#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x you#f1#mark webber one shot#mark webber x reader#mark webber imagine#mark webber fanfic#mark webber#mclaren team principal!reader
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synopsis. zenin naoya and his lack of respect for women. [part of the dynasty series]
wc. 970
tags/warnings. rich boy!gojo, idk what else, zenin naoya exists, established relationship
a/n. i switch between present and past (like five mins prior) throughout BUT IF IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE PLS LET ME KNOW. this has been sat in drafts for 2 months.
“i wouldn’t have stopped you from punching him.”
gojo scoffed, pushing his hands through his hair frustratedly. the two of you sat together on the cold stone steps outside of some large historic building.
“i don’t think i would’ve stopped,” he let out a ragged breath and you rested one of your hands on his knee. his fingers naturally came to intertwine with yours and you think you saw his shoulders relax ever so slightly at the contact.
a silence settled between you, but it wasn't an awkward one. your boyfriend was reliving the last hour and you were doing your best to try and forget it.
“is he always like that?” you asked quietly. the he in question being zen’in naoya.
this was the first event that you had attended with gojo, and the first event gojo had ever attended with an actual date. he’d always turned down all of the girls his father offered to him (the children of other tech ceo’s that his father was encouraging him to get close to only for the benefit of his own bank account) and he’d never had a real girlfriend to bring prior to you.
“unfortunately,” he hummed quietly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles lightly. you shivered from the cool breeze and dared to shuffle closer to him.
you’d experienced many sides of gojo since you’d begun your relationship, but never had you seen him so irritated that he couldn’t verbally communicate it. he was the one who annoyed people to the brink of insanity, with his cocky remarks and over-the-top, excitable behaviour. few people had ever tried to one up him, and even fewer were successful in managing to get under his skin.
zenin naoya, though, loved the challenge.
“do you think your dad will mind if we’re out here?” you asked tentatively. gojo’s hand reflexively tightened briefly around yours at the mention of his father, his jaw clenching.
several minutes after gojo had led you inside the elegant infrastructure (to say you were getting imposter syndrome was an understatement), he’d left you by a confectionery stand in search of geto. according to him, you looked ‘too pretty’ and he didn’t want your dress to be ruined in the crowds. in other words, the less you mingled, the less likely you’d be harassed by his father’s rich peers – he’d already ‘accidentally’ knocked one drink over onto a woman who dared to hiss the word ‘gold digger’ under her breath as you passed.
it had to have been less than thirty seconds before the zenin appeared by your side, a sickening smirk on his twisted face. you knew who he was, you’d seen him once or twice around campus and you’d heard the stories, but you’d never been this close to him; not close enough to breath in the expensive cologne that smellt cheap.
“probably,” he clicked his tongue, tilting his head back to look up at the night sky. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have brought you here.”
you nudged his shoulder gently, “i wanted to come.”
a mistake on both of your behalf – though neither of you could have predicted that naoya would try and make a scene when you rejected his advances.
"you two alright?"
both of you turned your heads back to see geto coming down the stairs towards you with a little skip in his step.
once naoya had your attention he wasted no time getting to his point – bigging up his status and telling you how gojo’s dad was doubting gojo’s position in the company. if you wanted a real man, in his words, you needed him.
obviously, you’d given him a disgusted look without much thought and denied the offer, taking a step back to try and find your tall, white haired boyfriend in the crowd (an oddly difficult task). you figured you were safer weaving through a crowd of high society snobs than you were spending another minute here. naoya, though, was persistent and didn’t hesitate to pull you back towards him with a harsh grip.
"just trying not to bash that zen'in's skull in," gojo muttered as he gently traced the red marks on your wrist. it looked worse than it felt – the pain had dissipated pretty quickly once you’d broken from naoya’s hold.
"i could get on board with that," the dark haired male dropped down next to you on the stairs, stretching out his legs and smoothing down his pants.
"geto.”
you figured out pretty quickly that gojo and geto were a package deal. best friends since diapers and equally as resentful to their parents’ ways of life and the pretence they’ve been raised in. two sides of the same coin, both of which willing to go extraordinary lengths for the other with no regard for consequences.
such as the jail time that would come with the aggravated assault of naoya.
though you would give it to geto – when gojo and him got to you and naoya, it was him who was ushering gojo to just take you outside, not to engage with the spoiled man child.
“geto,” geto mocked you with a grin, shrugging carelessly, "the kid’s an ass. he’s got it coming."
there was no more than a second until geto spoke up again, with an idea you were sure he’d had from the beginning of the night, his plans had just been accelerated: “shoko’s house is free now. her parents are away so she wasn’t forced to attend this bullshit,”
gojo’s head perked up at this, looking above your head at his best friend, “you think she’ll have the stuff for a smoke?”
“it’s ieiri,” you said in a ‘duh’ tone because when was she not smoking something. how she was top of her classes, you’d never know.
“god bless that girl,” geto blew a kiss to the sky.
taglist. @hyori2 @ja-zz @animeflower26 @jar-03
#dynasty#rich boy!au#rich boy!gojo#gojo x reader#gojo#gojo satoru#gojo drabbles#gojo fluff#gojo imagines
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you bump into him
expl: while looking down at what you were holding, you didn't notice the person in front of you; bumping straight into them
a/n: the poll is still going but i'd say this won with the overwhelming vote of 61 to 38 | the poll of the last imagine
second-person writing no pronouns used | uses of the pet name baby in heizous part
It seems that the Zapolyarny Palace was bustling with people today. It was no surprise when you entered the palace and were welcomed by a lot of people going which-ways trying to find their places. It was usually this busy regardless, seeing as the Fatui were extremely important, especially in the roots of Snezhnaya.
Tasked with being Pantalone's personal assistant, you also found yourself rushing between rooms and meeting with several other business owners hoping to borrow money from the organization.
This meant that breaks were rare since Pantalone worked you to the core and was always finding things for you to do. And you also met with a lot of the other Fatui members and were remarkably close to them. Those who Pantalone favored, were also in your favor, and those he disliked, you stayed away from.
"I need to you bring these to Pulcinella. Make sure to keep them all in order and once you give them to him, tell him I also marked the presentation for the next Tuesday." Pantalone said without giving you a glance. He seemed too interested in the vials that The Doctor had given him, Dottore was also present in the room.
You nodded, opening the door and leaving the room to make your way across the building. Continuing to look down at the documents, you marked every number at the top of the page in order to make sure they were in the correct order once you arrived. Knowing that there was hardly anyone in the hallway, you didn't mind not looking where you were going.
You were able to take 2 more steps until you collided with a hard surface. "Oof!" Came from your mouth until you watched as the papers burst into the air and landed in multiple different spots in the large hallway.
The distress you felt was ignored when you looked up and saw a large patch of ginger hair. The 11th Fatui Harbinger standing in front of you after turning around from the commotion. This was one of the harbingers that Pantalone did not like.
"Sorry about that! Seems like I was taking up a lot of the hallway." He said, before reaching down to help you pick up your papers. You also bent down to pick up some, noticing his lingering glances towards you in your peripheral every now and then.
Once the both of you picked up the papers, he handed you the ones he got and stepped back a bit to give you some space. Smirking at you while putting one of his hands on his hip.
"You're Pantalone's assistant aren't you? I know a familiar face when I see one." He said, walking behind you and putting a hand on your back while he urged you to keep walking to your destination.
That was when Pantalone's voice reached both of your ears, calling you to turn around and face him. You did, seeing as he was standing there with his hands crossed over his chest.
"I see you're taking my assistant somewhere Childe, may I ask you to halt your plan and return them at once." He said, his voice hinting at a small amount of irritation underneath.
Childe smiled, before reaching down to take your hand and place a kiss on top of it. "We'll meet again," He said, before walking away with a sly smirk on his face.
The Traveler always seemed to excite their old-time friend and companion who came around once in a while and indulged you on the matter more times than you could count. This was a blonde-haired man who wore a black and blue cape, with a very mysterious personality.
But you never met him, of all the times you heard about him, you could practically call the two of you friends. You knew so much about the man but never came in contact with him once. This did spark curiosity, but at the same time, you were never going out of your way to finding him.
This changed when you and the Traveler were exploring the 3rd Windblume event in Mondstat. Multiple shops were open for longer, with new and exciting things to explore in them. It seemed the two of you, or, three of you, including the white-haired thing following along, were out for quite some time. This was evident when the sun began to set across the tall walls surrounding the city.
You were looking down at the new souvenirs you acquired on your trip to the shops and didn't notice the man standing in front of you near the front gates. With a swift moment, you managed to bump right into him when he seemed to be in a trance at the other shops along the coast.
This caused the both of you to get spooked in result, his hands coming to grab your waist when you tumbled backward and almost fell. When you finally opened your eyes, you were met with a very handsome blonde man... wearing a black and blue cape.
"Dainsleif! It's great to see you!" The white-haired creature exclaimed, learning that her name was Paimon after you asked who it was following the Traveler around all day. This also resulted in you receiving an awful nickname for your ignorance.
"Traveler, Paimon, I see you two are enjoying the festival." He said, with his hands evidently still on your waist. A small blush crept onto your face when you noticed he wasn't letting go either.
"Oh? Do you two know each other already?" The Traveler spoke, with a small smirk forming when they noticed the position both of you were in.
"No... I don't think we've met." He said, still completely oblivious to his action. Paimon also exclaimed, asking if the two of you were dating, which then called his attention to what was happening. He let go and dusted his hands off lightly on his pants, clearing his throat in slight embarrassment.
"Apologies, I'm Dainsleif, I also travel along Teyvat like the Traveler here."
Your rosy cheeks didn't seem to help your case when you spoke, "Nice to meet you... I think I'm going to head back you two, but I'll see you later." Speaking towards the Traveler and Paimon, you took a swift escape down the bridge and back to where you originally came from.
Dainsleif also found himself watching you leave until you were completely out of view, his left hand tightening a bit in remembrance of feeling your waist in his pocket.
The Tenryou Commission was not where you wanted to be right now. But Thoma said it was the place to go when finding out where your lost change went after that robber passed by you in a flash.
He said you could find someone where to help you since all of the crime in Inazuma seems to be solved in the walls of the famous and intellectual detectives here.
It was noted that you really didn't know where you were going. The building was huge and you had never stepped foot in it before.
Multiple people could be seen going back and forth between rooms and others were off to the sides talking to themselves. It was really confusing, where did you go to talk to someone who'd help? Would anyone here help?
While walking around mindless, you hadn't looked where you were going and immediately bumped into someone. The man wasted no time grabbing you before you fell, and when you opened your eyes, you were immediately met face-to-face with bright green pupils.
"Woah! Watch out there, glad you bumped into me rather than anyone else Baby." A man said while still holding onto you when he lifted you up. You looked straight at him and tried to pick a name with the face, but came up with nothing.
"My name is Heizou if that's what you're wondering." He spoke, looking at you with a kind smile. "Can I ask what you're doing here? I can't imagine someone as attractive as you coming along." His flirtations seemed to pass by you one by one as he kept piling on compliments left and right.
The sound of the clan's head boomed across the hallway towards you too. "I've been waiting for your arrival! Thoma told me what happened, I'm here to help." Kujou Kamaji's voice was followed. You tried to turn and look at him but were still trapped in Heizou's arms.
"I see you've met Detective Heizou. Are you two perhaps close?" He asked once reaching you both. Your flustered face practically blew up and before you could say something, Heizou had already beaten you to it. "I'll be helping with the case instead Sir, but thank you for coming all this way." He said with a smile.
Your stuttering pleas for help didn't seem to reach either of their ears while they chatted and by the time they stopped, Kamaji was already walking away. You sighed looking back at Heizou to see him already looking towards you with a smirk.
"So anyways, how can I help you?"
Working for the head of the Kamisato Clan was scary at first, you didn't know how to act around such important people. Eventually, you warmed up though, Thoma was very nice showing you the ropes and telling you that it was gonna be okay.
You also met a lot of people on the way through working your way up the ranks. You were just below Thoma's role and were helping him help the two siblings who ran the whole place.
Today was the day that the Traveler and a couple of other friends came to visit for some dinner. You and Thoma were invited of course, but the duties of cleaning came first and seemed to take up most of the time they were there.
The both of you worked as hard as you could, making sure every place around the house was spotless and clean. You eventually had to run back a few times to refill the bucket of water you were using, which was something you were tasked with doing again after getting through 4 rooms with the same bucket of water.
You managed to pick up the heavy bucket and insisted you do it when you saw Thoma's concerned glance. Walking out of the room you two were currently cleaning and watching the water as you walked to your backyard to insure you didn't spill, you hadn't noticed the person standing in your way in the hallway.
Met with a hard back, you shut your eyes and let out a grunt before stumbling backward with the bucket in hand.
"I'm really sorry, I didn't watch where I was going." You said before looking up at the man in front of you. Kazuha, that was his name. You remembered from the numerous amounts of visits he and the Traveler paid here.
He looked at you with a soft smile and glanced towards the soaked clothes you now wore after bumping into him. His eyes didn't seem to return to your own for a bit, and he looked more in a trance than anything at the fact that you were now soaked and more exposed.
"Apologies," he finally spoke, "I should have moved more off to the side in case of anyone going down the hall." His kind words reached your ears, and you smiled back. "Please, it's my fault, I was the one not looking where I was going." You said with a closed eye smile, that was until you felt something touch your chest and immediately shot your eyes open in surprise.
Kazuha had taken out a handkerchief and was dabbing the area where you had gotten wet. He seemed pretty focused on doing it too, his hand occasionally being too one to touch more of you than the cloth. You began flusteredly stuttering out words of assurance that it was okay and you were fine being a little wet. He didn't seem to hear you though and kept making sure to soak up as much water as possible in the tiny little handkerchief.
Once he was finished, he stood back up straight again and kept smiling at you. If you focused, a small blush coated his cheeks from the interaction.
"My apologies again, you've worked so hard making this place look nice." He said, and you smiled back with a larger blush on your own. Moving around him, you walked past to keep your journey going outside to empty the bucket, not before his hand brushed along your side as he walked the other way.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin imagines#dansleif x reader#dansleif imagines#childe x reader#childe imagines#kazuha x reader#kazuha imagines#heizou x reader#heizou imagines#atskiruma
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eddie or steve with alternative!reader, like face piercings, black makeup, allat stuff
and nsfw or not but they would just be so smitten and follow them around and nod dumbly to whatever reader says bcus theyre so pretty and scary looking
<33
- 🦴
Belly button piercings. Steddie x female reader. Smut. Blurb.
I’m so sorry this is basically not what you asked for but I tried!! Hope this is okay! I really got in ‘the zone’ and wrote this all in one lmao!
You first noticed them when you were working, it was a Thursday afternoon, and you were waiting for your next appointment to arrive. Your client wanted a belly button piercing, something you’d done a million times in your job as a body piercer, it was second nature to you now. Especially since you have so many metal adjustments to yourself too, several facial piercings that happen to catch people’s eyes. You get complimented on your vertical labret often, but your favourite was the piercing that only you were allowed to see at the moment, single life really was keeping you from excitement.
They stood shyly in the doorway, the dark haired boy seemingly more confident than the brunette. He stood a little taller, had some ear piercings himself and as he took off his jacket, handing it to the other guy, you noticed his tattoos. You had a few of your own, some of which you’d actually given yourself. The long haired guy fiddled with his rings, he basically had one on each finger, the skull one catching your eye the most. It was cool, you make a mental note to see if you can find one of those for yourself.
The more metal looking of the men spoke, “Hi. I’m Eddie. I’m here for my piercing?” He had a great voice, he definitely was confident like you had expected. You offer him a friendly smile and show him out back to your studio after taking his payment, giving him his consent form and running him through the aftercare. “Can my boyfriend come too?” He questioned shyly, holding the brunette man’s hand behind his back. You nod and laugh, assuming he can’t be afraid of needles if he’s got so many tattoos. “Follow me, both of you are welcome, there’s always room for an emotional support person. Even if you are a pretty metal head or a…” You stood still and looked him up and down. “Frat boy?” You laugh, hoping to get the same reaction from them, it always helped to make jokes to ease your clients nerves.
In the kindest possible way they looked stupid, like they’d seen a ghost. Eddie’s jaw had dropped, he’s practically drooling at the compliment and his boyfriend? His cheeks are bright red. He nods dumbly, like every single thought in his pretty head had been knocked out by your comment.
“I don’t need!- whatever. This is Steve.” Eddie shakes his head and chuckles at your joke. “Thank you for letting me watch, I kinda wanted to see how you do this whole piercing thing, I’m tempted to get one myself.” Steve spoke finally, his voice a lot softer than Eddie’s. His face was flushed, embarrassed by his own words.
You mark up Eddie’s belly button, making sure the lining you drew was straight and offer him a look in the mirror. As he stands upright, staring at the pen marks on his midriff you notice them for the second time that day. But it wasn’t just them, it was how they looked at you. Their eyes followed you, ever since they stood hunched over in the doorway of the waiting room. Their eyes never left you, dancing around your face and more recently, your pants.
You’d been ogled over before, sort of part and parcel of the job. Men had come into your studio just to ask you if you had any “naughty” piercings or assume you must be freaky in bed because you’re tatted and pierced. But you didn’t mind the way they were looking at you. Almost like you were an enigma, a paradox.
“Stevie here’s acting scared but don’t let him fool you, he likes a bit of pain.” Eddie giggles over his own words whilst Steve shoots him a look, giving him daggers. You noticed the way Steve blushed again, it’s adorable really. His cheeks flushed at everything. “Is that so? Well the belly button piercing is just a little pinch really, the clamp is the worst part. Just breathe through it and it’s over. I promise, I’ll be gentle. To you that is, might have to be a little more rough with this one huh? He seems insistent on embarrassing you doesn’t he, sweetheart?” You motion to Eddie, wiggling the capped needle around in your fingers. Steve threw his head back in laughter, squeezing Eddie’s hand in his own, “t-thanks.” He stutters through his words, you could definitely see this guy being a submissive. His entire nature is submissive. Your mind escapes you as you imagine what he’d look like tied to your bed. Would Eddie join you in dominating Steve or would you have them both at your mercy?
That was a hell of a way to break the ice, finding out your client’s boyfriend is a pain slut definitely was a new one. Fantasising about your clients even more so, but they are so endearing.
“Okay you ready?” You glance up at Eddie, he nods and you position your needle. “And 3, 2, 1, aaaand done.” You feed the needle through his belly button, you remove the needle and leave the plastic tube inside the freshly pierced hole. “And here’s the stingy part.” You mutter as you thread his chosen jewellery through the plastic tube of the needle and twists the ball on top, wiping and sterilising his belly button. “How was it?” Steve questioned, still looking at Eddie through his fingers across his eyes. “Completely fine babe, princess here has magic fingers.” He shoots you a smirk in an attempt to fluster you back for earlier.
“Sure do. Are you up next Steve? I have time to slot you in now, I’ve got a free hour.” Inquiring as clean up your work space once more. “N-no. Maybe next time.” He responds with the weakest smile you’ve ever seen. He’s scared, if any of the goosebumps on his skin suggest, that’s understandable. Poor thing, he’s a completely blank canvas and a piercing is a pretty big commitment to make. Eddie smiles, whispering something in-audible to Steve which of course left him with a flushed face again.
You squat down to your drawers to reach a form, and as you bend over you hear a groan. Well more of a grunt, you smirk whilst your back is turned. These boys were too cute. Wondering which of them you could make yours first, maybe take the easy frightened little lamb and watch his protector follow. What sounds would they make? You could break down the act that Eddie puts up and make him melt in your hands? Was the act he puts up all a ploy, was Steve the top? So many questions run through your mind, but you knew something for certain. This was precious. These boys were precious. Behind you, you hear some giggling. Still searching for the feedback form you have to leave it up to your imagination, but it ate at you. What were they giggling about? You hadn’t imagined the handcuffs attached to Eddie’s belt, maybe he was teasing him by showing Steve what he’d be tied with that night? Maybe they’d pointed at you pretty ass bend over so nicely on display for them and daydreamed about having you in those cuffs?
You twist your face over your shoulder to face them as you pick up the form, your elbows squeezing together ‘accidentally’. Steve shys away from looking but you can tell he wants to, it was obvious. His eyes darted around the room, from the mirror across from you, and back to your chest. Whereas Eddie? His jaw was on the floor, his vision transfixed on your chest.
“Okay, well in that case when you’re ready I need you, Eddie to fill in this form about how your experience was here today. We give them to all our clients.”
You commanded, handing him the form and a pen, watching as he filled it out pretty quickly. It was cute, through the whole time you’d spent together, Steve hadn’t let go of Eddie’s hand. Following him around like a lost dog, but he still couldn’t stop his eyes from moving over you. Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand again and he looks down at his lap. Oh. Was it the pain of the piercing or your body that made that tent in his pants appear? Steve bites his lip and reaches out to palm his hand over Eddie’s bulge. He squirms and swats at his boyfriend’s hands. Oh god could they get any cuter, flustered and bratty? The things you could do.
He shuffles his jacket across his waist, hoping you hadn’t seen it. Handing you the form back, you walk them both back into the waiting room. You sign the form to prove you had administered the piercing, handing it back to Eddie to take his copy home for safe keeping. Chewing on your pen lid, you giggle as the leave your studio. You wonder how long it will be until they read the note you left them on the paper.
“Let me know if you want that piercing Stevie, I think you’d both suit little matching belly bars. The cutest boys. If I’ve read this wrong ignore me and I apologise but if I haven’t? Call me. *phone number*.”
Well you’ve had worse days at work.
#steve and eddie#steve x reader#steve x eddie#eddie stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie blurb#eddie smut#steve harrington#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#Eddie Munson x fem!reader#steddie x female reader#steddie au#steddie x reader#steddie imagine#steddie smut#poly steddie#steddie x you#Eddie Munson smut#Steve Harrington smut#boyfriend!steve harrington#boyfriend!eddie munson#established steddie#piercer!reader#mine#stranger things#eddie munson#steddie#bi steve harrington#bi eddie munson
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Vox brainrot entry #1
(Part 2 fic)
A/N: I've been thinking about this all morning, and I want to talk about it and it's driving me crazy. I've never really ever shared anything like this ever, so I'm a bit nervous haha
CW: 18+ SFW - NSFW (marked as such), spying/voyeurism, gn reader
Disclaimer: This is purely fiction and is not to be applied to any real context. If someone is like this IRL, that is not okay.
- This man definitely watches you through whatever technology you have, and I refuse to believe anything less.
- In some fics, I've seen the reference to him spying on people through cameras but I mostly see it in yan AU fics where he is doing it to intentionally try to control and manipulate them. I think instead he does it because he's a pathetic simp. 💀
- Vox seems like he would be very much against directly pursuing anyone for romantic relationships due to how insecure he is underneath all of the egotistical bullshit he puts out at all times. This imo would manifest as also having a severe fear of rejection - especially if he does manage to get romantic feelings for someone else.
- Due to this, he spends a borderline obsessive amount of time watching the person he's attracted to without their permission as he's too chicken shit to seem *too interested* in them by actually asking them about their interests and things about yourself.
- At first it's just very rarely watching you - mainly after meeting up with you to see how you are after. He wants to see if you are happy or if you secretly hate the time you spend together with him because he is insecure as shit.
- It gradually becomes more and more frequent the more he falls for you, until it's a pastime watching what you're doing.
- He learns what your favourite things are, what you hate, what you do in your spare time, who your friends are, who your family are, etc. Etc. He knows just about everything you do in your free time.
- He will then use this information to try to get closer with you in everyday life.
- If you ask how he knows he will respond like he's just 'that good' at knowing what you like. You don't miss the way he starts sweating slightly as he's further prodded though.
- After you prod him for more on the subject he's going to be sitting in slight horror with his hands covering his face the second you leave.
NSFW starts below
- It also begins to extend to watching everything as well the more desperate he gets.
- For a while, he refuses to continue to watch you if you start to take your clothes off as he feels like that's crossing the line even with his tendencies.
- But a mixture of his desperation and craving to see that gets to him.
- The first time he watches you get undressed, he's flustered as all hell, brain telling him to switch the feed off while the other part of himself is absolutely screaming in excitement over seeing your naked skin slowly being revealed to him.
- It becomes an extremely shameful tendency after that as he begins to watch more and more as it drives him absolutely wild.
- I just have the mental image of him sitting in his studio after-hours and watching you pleasure yourself while he does the same. Him being embarrassed as hell, filled with self-loathing about it, but still desperate to continue watching you arching and letting out whimpers and moans of ecstacy.
- I feel like if he saw you after these sessions he'd not be able to hold it together as well as he usually does when you pry into something to do with him secretly spying upon you. He'd be smiling a tense smile, little animated sweat drops on his face along with light blue flush across his cheeks as he stutters with glitches while being questioned about why he was acting up.
- Giving you bullshit reasons in his normally cocky tone that were so obviously bullshit you don't even need to squint at them to tell.
- If you pry into it he may just start error-ing.
Someone needs to put me down about him.
- Afterwards, he'd probably be mortified in private. I can see him laying face down while blue screening on the floor of his room out of embarrassment whining with his ego in tatters about failing so badly to fully keep his 'extra-curriculars' under wraps in front of you.
#hazbin hotel#vox headcanons#vox#vox x reader#vox smut#I may write a drabble pertaining to this maybe maybe#idk we'll see#im thinking about writing one where reader knows he's doing this and they use it against him to degrade him#i want this bitch w h i n i n g ✨️
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