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luveline · 4 months

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𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐳, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Eddie has a staring problem that you barely notice, though you share an aching, awful crush. One of you has to bend first, and it’s not who you’d expect. fem, 5k

ditzy-ish reader, pining eddie, mutual pining, confessions, first kisses, fluff and hugging, idiots in love, mild states of undress

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

It’s a day fit for a funeral in Hawkins. Rain hammers his bedroom window like hailstones, plinking against the frame, condensation running down the panes in thick rivulets he soaks up with an old t-shirt.

It’s supposed to be spring time. Green grass, flowers, a gentle humming sun to warm the back of his neck while he sits out on the couch on the porch, a hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers, the tip shimmering with heat.

But the rain pours. He’s cleaned his room for the first time in a month, at least, and his back aches in the best way as he lays down amongst fresh sheets. His room feels strange when it’s organised, but he doesn’t mind. He pictures the state of it through a second pair of eyes. This is a boy who cares about things, who takes care of them, who could take care of me, too.

Rain again rackets on the metal roof above. He and Wayne keep a couple hundred bucks stashed for the day the roof flies straight off —they take turns hiding it, because cars break down and groceries get more expensive every year, but god will they need it, and so they safeguard it well.

He syphoned a little of the money recently with Wayne’s support. It was for a good cause.

“Jesus,” Eddie murmurs to himself, not tired but feeling dull as the clouds outside eat the remaining sun.

It’s depressing to be poor, and to lose a day trying to hide the evidence of an entire life in a small room. He could sleep a hundred years.

He’s just finished pulling the sheets over his shoulder when somebody knocks on the front door. Wayne opens it three rooms away, the sound of the rain doubled.

He gives a startling shout, “Ed! Your girl!”

Eddie topples out of bed. Doesn’t mean to, foot caught in the bottom of the sheets and stuck as he scrambles to slide out of the mess. He’s begged Wayne not to call you that when you’re within earshot, but Wayne’s a mean (kind) old bastard (middle aged dad) who wants Eddie dead (happy, and in love).

“Come on in, girl. You’re soaking.”

“It’s raining.”

“It’s pouring down. Did you walk here?”

“Took my bike. Thought I’d get struck by lightning in the car.”

“How’d you figure?”

Eddie goes to grab the door handle and spins on his heel, staggering onto his bed and up against the wall, where a mirrored tray once used by Dio himself for rolling hangs from the wall. He checks his face in the polished surface, his warped mouth and nose, too small eyes, and swears to himself that one day he’ll get a real mirror with a fully-functioning reflective surface.

Then he hops down off of the bed, causing a reverberation he knows traverses the entirety of the trailer floor. Eddie snatches a rare clean towel from his laundry chair and speeds down the hall.

“Hello,” he says, more casual than he feels to find you unexpectedly in his house. “You’re soaked.”

You give a sweet smile. “It’s raining out, did you not know?”

Your hair is dripping, water racing down the curves of your face to collect at your chin. Eddie can see the smudges of your makeup where it’s washing off as he wraps a towel around you, kohl on your cheeks, eyelashes turned to half-diamonds and sticky-looking. You grin at being covered, taking the towel from his fingers before he can dab you dry.

“Why didn’t you just call me?”’

“I can never remember if your phone number ends in three or four.”

“Seven. I wrote it down for you a hundred times.”

You rub your eyes and spread all manner of glitter and shadow over your skin. You wipe your neck and the glitter spreads like an alien rash.

When you talk next, you shiver, “I lost it a hundred times, sorry. Is it okay that I'm here?”

Wayne, who’s been watching with a distinct sense of amusement from the couch, lets out a chesty laugh. “Honey, it’s always okay that you’re here on my account. And it’s my house.”

“It’s fine.” Eddie turns your shoulder so he can mouth over it without being caught. Asshole.

Another laugh follows. Eddie would cut each of his fingers from his hand and then his hand from his wrist if it were something Wayne needed him to do, but that doesn’t make him any less of an opportunistic asshole. If there’s a way to fuck with Eddie, he tends to try it. He loves Eddie with all the tenacity of a father who loves his son, but Wayne got infected with little bitch disease or something and Eddie can’t cure it.

“Can I please wash my face? I didn’t expect to get soaked.”

“Didn’t you?” He regrets his flippancy quickly, leading you down the hall. “You could take a shower. What do you think?”

You’ve never showered here, but Eddie’s trying to, you know, date you. Romance you, get to cherish you, however anyone wants to say it. And it’s not a war of attrition, just a natural escalation of sharing, or a minimising of boundaries.

No, that’s pervy, isn’t it?

“I mean–” He starts to correct himself.

You interrupt with your answer, “Yes, please, do you think I could? But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I have your purple hoodie in my room, and there’s gotta be a pair of sweatpants here that fit you,” he says.

They’ve got a whole bunch of clothes here that floated in from somewhere else, Eddie’s other friends or stuff they’ve bought by mistake. He’s sure he can find something.

“You have my hoodie?” you ask, black kohl spreading across the towel as you wipe your cheek.

Eddie only smelled it one time. When he’d realised you left it in his van he brought it in and folded it, waiting for the next time he’d see you to give it back, but that night he’d been getting out of the shower wondering if he could call you or if that was too soon, and your hoodie had been right there. So he stood there in his pyjama pants with his wet hair and he didn’t think about picking your hoodie up, he just did, and when he pressed it to his face it still smelled of your perfume.

He put it back and felt like a loser for days.

“It’s in my closet, you left it in the van Monday,” he explains quickly, nudging you through the doorway of the bathroom.

The Munson bathroom is teeny tiny but not unnavigable. There’s a shower pressed to the far wall that could squeeze in two people, their toilet to the right, a sink basin opposite that with a medicine cabinet and just enough room for a dirty laundry box that’s always, always full.

Eddie opens the shower and turns it on. “It takes a while to get really hot but then it’s not hot for long, sorry. There’s my shampoo if you want it, and soap, and body wash. Sorry, none of it is super girly.”

“Sorry sorry,” you say, pretending to hit him in the stomach. “What’s with all the sorries, handsome? I can’t wait to smell like a boy.”

The way you say it. Eddie doesn’t know what it is, but it’s why he’s crazy about you.

Probably shouldn’t tell you that as you're taking off your jacket, though.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

Eddie heads out of the bathroom to their skinny linen cabinet hidden in the hallway. He grabs the last two towels from the middle shelf and takes pause, fabric starchy in his hands. Just be normal, he thinks, a pep talk from Eddie to Eddie. She hangs out with you all the time for a reason. She held your hand at the movies.

Eddie’s in better spirits when he remembers that. Your hand in his, your ring pushing his ring further down his finger, your cheek touching his shoulder as you’d leaned in and asked if he wanted some of your popcorn.

He opens the door without thinking, shower pattering against the perspex wall, your legs crossing tightly as he enters, turning yourself away from him.

“Woah!” you say, laughing.

“Holy crap.” The image of your red underwear immediately stamps itself into his mind as he pulls the door shut between you. They were really cute, red and white gingham, showcasing just the slightest curve of your– “I told you I was coming back!”

“I thought you’d knock!” you laugh. “Sorry I flashed you. At least I had my shirt on.”

At least, he thinks wryly, shoving his arm through the gap in the door, heavy towels pulling at his fingers. His head’s about to snap off, it's turned so far away from the door’s opening. “Here.”

“If you wanna see me naked so bad you can just ask,” you tease.

“Take the towels, loser.”

You take the towels and he closes the door, preventing any more accidental creeping, and giving himself a reprieve. Gingham underwear. Wavy lettuce edgings kissing your skin.

Holy fuck. Being a person is so lame, Eddie thinks. He wants to have a crush on you purely, and yet seeing the way you’d crossed your legs to hide from him, smiling, he can’t not think about kissing you —touching you. If he doesn’t get you laid out in his bed soon for some slow kissing he’s not gonna make it.

Eddie opens the strip vent above his window and prays it doesn’t flood his whole room. Clean, it doesn’t look half bad, he could bring you in here respectfully, you could stay the night without fearing for your life.

You take a quick shower. He’s barely gotten over his nerves when you’re walking into his room, a towel around you, not a hint of shyness about you.

“You didn’t bring me anything to wear,” you explain.

Eddie just stares at you.

“Eddie?” You wrap the towel tighter. “Come on, you’re staring at me.”

“Sorry.” His mouth is bone dry.

“You have my hoodie, right? Just need some pants.” You cross your arm tightly across your chest. “I don’t usually notice when people are staring at me.”

“You aren’t usually naked in my room,” he says, genuinely and embarrassingly apologetic.

“I’m not naked. Come on, please? Do I have to wait outside the door?” you ask with a laugh.

Eddie stands up. Shakes his head hard, almost trips over himself trying to get to his dresser. He decides honesty will be best at this point, lest you think he has only one thing on his mind, “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just in my head about something and I wasn’t expecting you to come out like that. It’s not right. You’re just… you’re really pretty.”

“Thank you.” He can’t see you, sorting quickly through his middle drawer and all his miscellaneous pants for a pair he’s sure would fit, if he could just remember where it was. “What are you in your head about?”

“What?”

“Eddie, are you okay?”

“No, no,” he moans, rubbing his face with his hand, ring scratching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not okay, princess, I’m overheating or something, Jesus Christ.” He finally lays eyes on the sweatpants he’d been thinking of, grabs your hoodie from the top shelf and drops them both at the end of the bed. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

“I don’t have any underwear.”

“And that’s something I can’t fix,” he says, leaving the room in a hurry.

Eddie gets to the living room and keels over. His hair falls in his face, his shirt slides down his back. What the fuck is wrong with him?

Wayne, sliding his shoes on in the recliner, gives a start. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie lifts his head, yanking hair from his face, the skin of his under eyes pulled down harshly. “Oh my god.”

Wayne wrinkles his nose.

“No ones ever been such a pathetic excuse for a man before,” Eddie says.

“Your dad’s in jail,” Wayne points out. “And not for the impressive stuff.”

“I’m pathetic.”

“You’re fine. You’re not supposed to be not pathetic, you’re twenty.”

“I’m twenty one.”

“The extra year doesn’t mean much. I know you think you’re all grown up, but you’re still an idiot.”

Wayne stands and shrugs on the jacket laying over the armrest.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I thought you were definitely gonna ask her?” Wayne asks knowingly. That’s what Eddie told him, after all. “Next time I see her, Wayne, I’m asking her to go steady.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You can’t leave.”

“Eddie.” Wayne gestures for Eddie to stop slouching like some fiend from a bad horror. “Listen. I get that you’ve always been sort of… behind everyone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. She likes you. She biked here in a hurricane.”

“What if she says no?” he asks.

Truthfully, Eddie’s more scared of you saying yes.

Wayne shrugs. “Girl like that’ll still be your friend after. It’ll be fine, okay? Do you need a hug before I go?”

“No.” Eddie rubs his eyes some more, sore now from being touched. “Maybe.”

Wayne crosses the room to give his shoulder a squeeze. “It will be fine. You’re great with rejection, Eds, but I have a good feeling about this one.”

Eddie felt better about it, before he embarrassed himself staring at you. But Wayne’s right, even if Eddie’s read things wrong between you, he’s sure you’ll still want to be his friend. You and Eddie are the same kind of weird, though he’s more angry where you’re carefree. If everything goes wrong, you’ll probably just give an unnecessary apology and offer to braid his hair. Which will be torture, but Eddie’ll still say yes.

Wayne calls goodbye, and you shout, “Bye, Mr. Munson!” to which Wayne wiggles his eyebrows.

“Get lost,” Eddie says.

“Go make her a drink. I’ll see you later.”

That’s not a bad idea. Eddie makes you a mix of orange and grapefruit juice with a couple of ice cubes and a plastic straw, your reaction predicted and then proved.

“It’s a cocktail,” you say, pleased, sitting on the side of his bed.

“It’s not a cocktail, just juice.”

“Can I have some socks, please, Eddie?”

Eddie passes you your drink, fingertips brushing. “Yeah. Anything else?” He pretends to be exhausted as he trudges back over to his dresser.

You laugh and sip your drink. “No, I think you’re treating me quite well.”

Eddie grabs a random pair and finally gets to sit down beside you, the dresser drawer left out, a spare sock fallen to the floor. You shuffle back into his pillows, propping your juice on his side table, and holding your hands out for the socks. Again, your fingertips touch his as he passes them to you. You seem to enjoy it, a smile lighting your face as you pull your knees up to put the socks on.

“Thank you for waiting on me,” you say quietly. Not shyly, just quiet.

“You’re welcome. Came all this way to see me, didn’t you?” He gives you a shove. You shuffle back further. “In the pouring rain.”

“It felt important at the time.”

“Yeah?”

You get the socks on and don’t care about them once they're past your heels. Eddie does the honour of smoothing out the bands so that the elastic won’t dig into your skin, and when he’s done he can feel you looking at him heavily. You’re not one for continued eye contact, but you smile like you were waiting for it all day, like it’s a relief to see him.

“Bad weather,” you say, slouching down. “I think I’m still wet on the inside.”

“Gross,” Eddie says, pushing you over bodily to sit beside you. This isn’t new, he doesn’t need any nerves, and he’s grateful when they don’t come. “Here, I’ll pull the blanket over you.”

“Can’t move,” you say, leaning back against the pillows.

Eddie stretches his legs out. You keep yours up, but you turn to his side, and before he can really make any sense of you, you’re dropping your face into his shoulder.

“Are you still cold?” he asks, searching for the truth in your strange comment.

You nod into his shoulder. “I’m freezing. The shower didn’t get very hot.”

“Sorry,” he says, letting his cheek rest on your head.

You lift your chin as he does it, his lashes pressed to your forehead, the two of you stuck together like two warped jigsaw pieces. You probably weren’t made to be together, but you make a nice picture, and you fit snugly now. That’s what Eddie thinks.

This is the sort of moment that makes Eddie wanna ask you out. Maybe you’re just the best friend he’s ever had, but something about this closeness feels different. You wrap your arm around his stomach in a hug and he knows this is different.

“It’s okay,” you say finally, sighing as you shift downward into his side, getting comfortable.

“Please don’t bike here in the rain. It’s, like, torrential. You could actually get sick.”

You feel warm where your body presses against his, but Eddie doubts that’ll make a difference if the cold already made you sick. The bike ride from your place to his isn't short. He covers your arm with his and tries to be your space heater, cheek sliding over your forehead.

“Eddie…” You hug him with tenderness. Eddie’s reluctant to say cuddle, but it’s close. “This might be a surprise to you, but I think it’s worth the rain and the cold to see you. Especially when you do this.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re rubbing my arm.”

He hadn’t noticed his hand caressing up and down your arm where it rests on his stomach.

“You make me feel amazing,” you say, dropping your face into his chest.

That’s his last straw. Eddie gets both arms around you and cuddles you (it’s a cuddle, okay! he’s a loser!) to him, arms tight but not cruel. All this fuss and you’re finally laying on top of him. He decides he won’t ask you after all. He’s not that brave, and he doesn’t want this to end.

Your legs fall onto him. You relax completely. Even after you shower he can smell your perfume.

“You smell nice,” he murmurs.

“It’s on my hoodie,” you murmur back.

Right. Eddie should remember.

“You make everything smell like you.” Even his van keeps your scent most days.

“Too much?”

“The right amount,” he says firmly.

You lay on his chest for a while, just breathing. Eddie rubs your back, tells himself he will ask, actually, because he can’t imagine not getting to do this again. You might even stay over. He could live hours of this. He didn’t know having you lay on him could make him feel like this.

He can’t believe you’ve never done it before.

Rain pounds the window. Condensation drips down onto the sill. You let your legs stretch out flat and then manoeuvre to be laying half atop him, hoodie riding up your back.

“Any warmer now?” he asks.

“Yeah, you’re warming me up.” You lavish in his arms for a moment, and then lift your face. “Oh, this is a bad angle.”

“For me or you?”

“For me, duh.”

Eddie doesn’t think you could have a bad angle. He rubs at your upper arm as you start to shift. “You know, your bike has just as big a chance of getting hit by lightning as your car does. More, probably.”

“You think so?”

“It’s physics. So, please don’t do it again.”

You hum. “Hm, should I risk getting struck by lightning, or spend the evening without you?” you murmur, your arm moving, moving slowly, your hand resting gently on the column of his neck. There’s something ironic in your voice, wry, but your eyes are warm. He’s paralysed. No one has ever spoken to him like you. “I think I’d rather get struck by lightning.”

You stare at one another. He laughs. You join in, your thumb a pressure at his neck, and when you move up his chest to lean in, he isn’t expecting it.

“We’re very close together,” you whisper.

“Super close,” he whispers back.

“…Eddie, can I ask you something?” Your eyes slip shut, your lips so close that something in him aches, just enough wit about him to cup your shoulders in his forearm.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t sound half as calm as you do.

“Would you… Do you think we could be official? Would you want that?” You tilt your head to the side. “Is that stupid?”

“Official?” he asks, panicked, his eyes squeezed shut hard enough for a moment that they ache.

“Like, you’d be my boyfriend. I’d be your girlfriend. We’d be close like this all the time.”

Eddie panics so hard he just says the first thing that comes into his head, “Like, we’d kiss?”

“I hope so,” you say, your nose pressing against his, the tip to the side of his, and then against his nostril. The heat of your breath is hard to ignore. “What do you think?”

What does Eddie think about it?

He catches your lips in a slow kiss. Achingly slow, not even sure it’s a kiss until you reciprocate, and your fingers dig behind his neck to tease his hair. Your lips part against his, the heat of your tongue sudden and undeniable —Eddie didn’t know you had it in you. He squeezes you to him, attempting to crane his neck downward, reliant on your enthusiasm as you move up, as you use his neck to pull yourself closer.

Your noses crush together, and it actually hurts. “Sorry,” he says, easing you back, “you okay?”

“‘Nother kiss,” you say hopefully, distractedly.

He can’t not give it to you.

Your hand spreads flat against his chest and you kiss, you kiss, long and slow movements against him before turning your head to take it again. Eddie doesn’t always know what to do with himself, but he knows kissing, no matter what anybody might think about him, and he takes the lead.

His hand screws into a fist against your hoodie, the slip of your back further exposed as you shiver into his mouth, a sound you shouldn’t make sweet on his tongue.

You pull away, breath on his lips. “Wanted you to kiss me for so long,” you murmur.

Eddie knows you’re not saying it to flirt, and that makes it worse.

“I should’ve kissed you a long time ago,” he says roughly.

“You wanted to?”

“Yeah. Yeah, so much, I’m a loser about you–”

“I’m always a loser,” you interrupt, “but especially about you.”

You scratch your fingers through his hair, encouraging his head down for another kiss. This one rougher but not rough, his arm slips finally behind your head where he’d needed it to be, hooking you in his elbow to keep you in one place. To kiss you soundly, without interruption. Your almost feverish ebbing inward is a dream, your nose rubbing up against his is a fantasy.

His heart hammers and hammers at his ribs.

You pull away to let him breathe. “You’re very excited,” you tease lightly.

Eddie kisses you, breathless. He kisses you so much he’s surprised you allow it, but your thumb rubs his cheek, and he knows he’d been right all along. You want him like he wants you, with startling, mildly pathetic urgency.

He feels like a fucking prince. Girl of his dreams in his lap, everything he wants, and he didn’t even have to ask.

—

Eddie spends a week in bliss. You’re suddenly everywhere, all the time, attached to his hip or some other part of him, and he forgets for seven whole days that he bought you a ring.

The rain dries up, the Munson emergency fund lives to die another day, and he remembers the ring only minutes before you’re knocking at his door.

He trips over himself trying to answer it before Wayne, who’s taken to being as painfully embarrassing as is possible for one human being, can get it for him.

“One day you’re gonna eat shit and break your nose,” Wayne says.

Eddie yanks open the door. “Yeah, thanks. Hey, beautiful, what’s with the sunglasses?”

You slide them down your nose. You’re a vision on his front step, not that you’d ever notice your own intrigue. “The sunglasses?” you ask, tucking them away. “What do you think they’re for? Three guesses.”

He grabs your waist, leaning down out of the doorway so as to save Wayne the agony. “That’s smart,” he says, kissing you quickly in hello. “You’re funny. Need anything before we go?”

“No, I’m okay. Hi, Mr. Munson!” you add.

“Hey, honey! How are you?” Wayne calls.

You look up into Eddie’s face with an obvious delight. “I’ve never been better.”

Eddie grins back.

He waves a quick goodbye to Wayne and then he’s out the door. You grab his wrist and practically dance him to the car, where you offer your keys, and he deigns to drive. From there it’s smooth sailing, familiarity with a better twist, Eddie driving with the windows down and your hands twined on your thigh. Things haven’t changed much since you asked him to go steady, there’s just a whole lot more of this. Touching, kissing, no weird guilt about staring.

As it turns out, you’re as eager to be laid out in his bed as he is to lay you out. He’s never wanted to kiss you more, and now he’s allowed.

“Eyes on the road.”

He leans over to kiss your cheek. The sun has warmed your skin, and his kiss makes you smile. You look pretty no matter the weather.

“Before we get there, I have something to give you.” He takes his hand from yours to slide the box from his pocket. He holds it up. “But you can only have it if you swear you’ll call me tonight before bed. No excuses. You know exactly what number to call.”

“Ends with a three,” you say, nodding.

He sighs. “No, it does not.”

“I’m kidding! Two one nine seven, I have now committed it to memory.”

Eddie pays attention to the road, though it’s clear and long heading out of the trailer park and into town. “That deserves a gift.”

You’re back in your glitters today, a skirt to enjoy the fine weather, a button shirt with a cute triangle collar, you’re lovely as ever, if a tad much for some. Not Eddie. He loves the dark clothes, the tinkling bracelets, the fun way you smile like everything he says is a secret between him and you. People stare wherever you and Eddie go, but as long your arm is sewn through his he couldn’t care less.

“A gift,” you say, smiling in your way, and taking the box politely. “I don’t think I deserve it for just remembering your number.”

“You deserved it for less. It’s not much. You can pay me back in three or four amazing kisses. Right here.” He points to the tight juncture beneath his jaw.

You attempt to lean over and kiss him immediately. He pushes you back, laughing, worsened by your own breathless laughter as you steal one exactly where he’d tapped.

You settle back down, Eddie’s hand dropping kindly to your knee. “I wonder what it is,” you say.

“Then open it.”

“I am!” You pop the box open, it’s springing hinge snapping into place. “Oh, woah. Woah. Where did you get this?”

It’s a slim ring, with a weirdly shaped band of quality metal around some cheaper but not totally worthless gemstones, of which there are three different colours: a topaz orange, a lime green, and a pinky-red ruby colour centre stage. They have nice cuts. It’s strange as you are, and he knew when he saw it you’d have to have it.

“If I put it on my marriage finger, are we engaged?” you tease.

“That one would be way heavier,” he says, giving you a squeeze.

You slide it onto your middle finger and hold your hand up in the sunshine. It fits in with your other ring nicely, though it is, to Eddie’s pride, far prettier.

He has half a mind to pull over and kiss each knuckle, but he’s trying to be less dramatic about you. It’s not working.

“Thank you, Eddie. I love it.”

“Best boyfriend ever?” he asks hopefully.

To his mild fear but better pleasure, you climb up onto the console to press three quick kisses to his cheek and jaw, your hand under his ear holding him in tender place. “Best boyfriend ever. Even if you stare too much.”

“How am I supposed to not?” he asks, with more weight than he’s intended.

You speak matter of factly for the first time in your life. “I am going to cause an accident,” you promise, attempting to kiss his nose. “A bad one.”

“Sit down, please.” He lets you kiss his nose, and then jabs you in the side. “Sit down, oh my god! That’s not funny, you’re so pretty I will total your car.”

“Now who’s not funny?”

You both laugh at the same time, the unfiltered, un-cute cackling of two idiots with the same sense of humour, and the same wealth of ridiculous honeymoon love.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. if you did, please consider reblogging or commenting!! thanks very much <3

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vividdentalsurgeons · 2 years

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Wisdom tooth extraction is a common dental procedure that involves removing one or more of the third molars located at the back of the mouth. Wisdom tooth extraction cost can vary depending on several factors such as the location, the complexity of the procedure, the type of anesthesia used, and the dentist or oral surgeon performing the extraction.

#wisdom tooth extraction cost #veneers singapore #metal braces #dental cleaning singapore #singapore #dental scaling and polishing

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honeytonedhottie · 7 months

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doll hand-book⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

how to feel prettier, some visual interest tips, a beauty handbook and how to glow up without doing something big/extra, little habits and things that u can incorporate into ur life to make u glow up without even thinking about it ✨ (constantly being updated)

double cleansing every morning and night for clean and sparkling skin

BODY GLITTER

exfoliate ur skin weekly (2-3x)

incorporate pretty words into ur vocabulary

drinking enough water everyday to be healthy and beautiful

sweet smelling body butters and body oils to moisturize

posture is important so sit straight and stand straight

wear sunscreen on your face and body everyday bcuz spf is important

jewelry to decorate ur body

carrying lipglosses and hand lotions and perfumes in ur bag for touch ups throughout the day

meditate, say ur affirmations and journal for a pretty mind

for journaling, buy a cute journal and journal with scented glitter pens and stickers

for visual interest

glitter is very feminine, in makeup, clothing, nails, and on collarbones. when i wear glitter on my skin i feel like a fairy ✨

jewelry makes u glitter (nose studs, stacked necklaces and stacked earrings, rings, belly piercings, and nail gems)

know what ur undertone is, since i have a warm undertone (gold>silver)

LONG is the way to go (long nails, lashes, hair, flowy dresses and tops and skirts)

for the sleek and shiny look (shiny and silky hair, glossy skin and lips)

glowing up subconsciously

prioritize sleep (sleep 8-10 hours a night)

drink at least 1L of water a day

eat a fruit or veggie with every meal to glow from the inside out

use coconut oil/castor oil on ur lashes and brows every night

facial massage everyday and practice mewing

move your body in a way that feels natural (for example, i go to a school where we have to walk a lot bcuz the campus is big so subconsciously i do LOTS of walking without even thinking of it)

if ur wearing ur hair up/in a protective style, use a hair mask

to look polished and put together

chapped lips are unacceptable, use an overnight lip mask and a hydrating chapstick throughout the day. if u notice ur lips just peeling in general, use an exfoliating scrub/brush ur lips with a toothbrush.

neat hair = a polished look

keep ur nails trimmed, filed, and polished and if u wanna do a little extra get them manicured

address skin concerns so that then you can get glossy skin

make sure all ur metals match and color coordinate

keep it simple

details make a difference

shape ur brows

whiten ur teeth + maintain good oral health

color coordinate

fixing posture

HELPFUL RESOURCES

how to smell dreamy - @flirtygirl-coterie

feminine archetypes - @prissygrlsorority

beauty binder - @prissygrlsorority

maintaining a clean and fresh appearance - by yours truly

makeup tutorial in pics - by yours truly

"your glowing" - by yours truly

general hygiene secrets and tricks - by yours truly

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commercialvehiclelightsuk · 2 years

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girlrotterr · 13 days

Text

Oath.

knight!abby x fem!reader x assasin!ellie summary: In a kingdom on the brink of new leadership, tensions run high as a coronation draws near. a/n: my apologies if this is all over the place! (wrote this while sleep-deprived..)

The grand hall of the palace was draped in regal tapestries, each one heavy with stories of past rulers, their deep, rich colors glowing under the soft light of chandeliers that hung like constellations above. The crystal fixtures sparkled like stars, casting delicate rays that danced along the polished marble floors. The fragrance of fresh roses filled the room, mingling with the sharp scent of recently cleaned stone, yet you barely noticed the elegance, your thoughts too distant to care.

You stood before the large, arched window, the panes of glass cool against your fingertips. Outside, the sun sank slowly, painting the kingdom in golden light that blended into the soft hues of amber and rose. The sky, streaked with the dying colors of the day, was beautiful—achingly so—but it felt distant. Just like everything else.

Your face remained impassive, cold, as you gazed across the horizon. Today was the day of your coronation, the day you would become queen. Yet the weight of the moment, its significance, felt strangely hollow. The echoes of excitement from the kingdom beyond the palace walls barely reached you. The crowd outside, buzzing with anticipation, their voices and footfalls merging into a dull roar, seemed as distant as the horizon itself. You were aware of the world outside, but none of it felt real.

Two maids worked around you in practiced silence, their hands quick, delicate, and efficient. One was at your side, fastening gold earrings into place, each one set with gemstones that glinted under the light. Her movements were precise, careful, though you barely registered the cool metal brushing your skin. The other maid stood behind, her fingers weaving through your hair, creating an intricate design worthy of the crown that would soon rest upon your head. They were skillful, and yet, their presence barely existed in your mind, your thoughts far beyond this room, slipping through the palace corridors like a shadow.

The maid by your side fumbled slightly as she fastened the last earring, her fingers trembling as they touched your neck. You didn’t flinch. You barely blinked. But you could sense her nervousness, feel the tension rolling off her in waves. Perhaps it was the gravity of the day, the immense pressure of serving the soon-to-be queen.

Behind you, standing just inside the doorway, was Abby Anderson—your most trusted knight, your oldest friend. Her armor gleamed in the chandelier’s soft light, the metal polished to a mirror-like shine, each plate a testament to her dedication and discipline. But Abby wasn’t watching the door or the crowd beyond the palace gates. Her focus was solely on you. It always was.

She had been by your side since childhood, her loyalty as unwavering as the steel she carried. You both had shared so much—moments of joy, of sorrow, of quiet understanding. But today, her presence felt heavier, her gaze more intense. There was something in the air between you both, something unsaid, as if she could sense the quiet storm brewing within you, the unease you hadn’t spoken aloud.

Abby’s eyes traced your face, searching for something, though you gave nothing away. The years had made her keen; she could read you like no one else could, and yet, today, there was a barrier even she could not penetrate. You were a queen in waiting, but in that moment, you felt more like a pawn—moved by forces unseen, drawn into a game far beyond your control.

At last, the maids completed their work, their fingers delicately smoothing the final strands of your hair into perfect alignment. They moved with practiced grace, their hands lingering for just a moment before they stepped back, retreating as if fearful that any further motion might shatter the silence that had settled over the room. The soft rustle of their skirts was barely audible, and their presence faded into the background entirely.

Abby’s presence lingered behind you, ever watchful. You could feel her gaze, piercing through the room’s stillness. Her armored boots softly scuffed the marble floor as she shifted, the slight sound making your spine stiffen, though you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“You’re prepared for this.” Abby said at last, her voice cutting through the quiet with a firm conviction. It was not a question; there was no room for doubt in her words. It was a truth—her truth—a decision she had already made for you. It wasn’t just encouragement; it was certainty.

For a moment, you remained silent, letting her words hang in the air like a blade unsheathed. Your fingers idly traced the cool glass of the window, the faint lines fogging slightly under your touch. The smooth, cold texture grounded you in the present, a fleeting comfort against the storm inside your mind.

“Do you remember how angry the servants would get at us?” you asked suddenly, your voice breaking through your own silence, but softer than you expected. The memory flashed in your mind, stark against the dread of the present.

Abby looked at you, her eyes flickering with a hint of warmth as she recognized the moment you were recalling.

“We’d sneak into the kitchens,” you continued, “stealing bread, fruits—whatever we could grab. And we’d feed it to the stray animals outside the castle walls.”

Abby smiled faintly, just for a moment, her features softening in the memory. “They’d scold us for it,” she replied, her voice softer now, a distant echo of your childhood, “trying to hide the food on higher shelves or locking it away in pantries. But somehow, we always managed to find something.”

The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you turned slightly, your gaze still distant, but now filled with the shadow of nostalgia. “And now those same servants quiver in my presence.” The words left your mouth like a quiet, bitter confession, their truth sinking deeper than you’d intended. “They bow when they see me. They fear me, Abby.”

The weight of your own words settled between you both, the warmth of the past quickly vanishing, replaced by the icy reality of the present.

Abby’s hand tightened around the hilt of her sword, her thumb brushing its pommel in a gesture that was as much instinct as it was protection. “They respect you,” she said quietly, her voice steady, though there was something deeper there, something unsaid. “They may tremble, but they will follow you, just as I do.”

Your eyes flicked back to her, meeting her gaze. For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke.

Abby, your oldest friend, had always been there, her unwavering loyalty a constant in your life. Yet today, that loyalty felt like a shield you might need more than ever.

The chill in your chest only deepened. This wasn’t about respect or loyalty—it was about survival, about strength in a world where softness was weakness. You knew the truth Abby didn’t speak. Your reign would demand coldness. It would demand sacrifice.

The crown, though it had yet to rest upon your head, already cast a heavy shadow over your soul. Its weight had not yet made contact with your brow, but you could already feel its burden pressing deeply into your very essence, seeping into your bones and shaping your thoughts.

───────

Ellie sat in the cool shadows beneath the canopy of trees, her back pressed against the rough bark, the familiar weight of her knife resting comfortably in her hand. With slow, deliberate movements, she ran the blade along the surface of an apple, peeling it in thin, spiraling ribbons. The soft scrape of metal against fruit was steady, almost meditative, and each curl of skin fell to the forest floor in a neat pile. Jesse and Dina stood a few feet away, their voices a low murmur as they discussed the crowd. Ellie didn’t bother listening. Their words were just a distant hum, like the wind rustling through the leaves above.

In the clearing beyond, the crowd surged and swayed, a restless sea of bodies gathered at the palace gates. From their hidden vantage point, Ellie could see the mass of people stretching far beyond what any of them had anticipated. The coronation had drawn the entire kingdom, it seemed, and the air was thick with the buzz of excitement, the occasional roar of cheers rising up like waves crashing against rocks. The sunlight flickered through the trees, casting dappled patterns across the forest floor, but Ellie’s focus remained on the apple in her hands, her knife carving each slice with practiced precision.

“They’re packed in there tight,” Jesse muttered, his brow furrowed as he leaned against a low-hanging branch. His eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the sheer number of people. “Getting close to the princess won’t be easy. Not with this many eyes on her.”

Dina sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at the bustling mass. “This is insane. Look at them. How are we supposed to get anywhere near her with this many people watching? We’d be lucky if we even make it to the gates without being noticed.”

Ellie didn’t respond. The blade continued its slow dance along the apple’s flesh, peeling away another thin ribbon. She could feel Dina’s frustration simmering, could sense her impatience like a crackling fire, but she wasn’t interested in engaging.

Dina’s patience snapped, her gaze shifting to Ellie with evident irritation. “And you,” she snapped, “you don’t even seem to care. You’ve been quiet the whole time. Don’t you have anything to contribute?”

Ellie’s hand paused mid-motion, her fingers tightening slightly around the knife handle. She looked up slowly, her gaze sharp and unyielding. “If you’ve got something to say, Dina, just say it. Or maybe you should focus on the task at hand instead of whining.”

Dina’s eyes flashed with anger. “Whining? You’ve been sitting here like this doesn’t matter. Do you even know what’s at stake? Or are you too busy with your little apple to care?”

Ellie rose to her feet, her movements deliberate and controlled. The knife still glinted in her hand, the apple now stripped of its skin. She fixed Dina with a steady gaze. “I know exactly what’s at stake. You think I got this job because by some mistake?”

Before Dina could say anything, Jesse stepped between them, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Alright, enough,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. “Both of you, just stop. This isn’t the time for bickering.”

Dina huffed, her gaze still directed at Ellie but with less venom. Jesse turned to Ellie, his expression softening slightly. “Ellie’s here because Maria trusts her. She’s new to the group, sure, but she’s not new to the work.”

Ellie observed Dina’s expression shift from anger to reluctant acceptance, the tension still hanging in the air like a storm cloud. Jesse’s voice took on a firmer tone. “ If we’re going to make this plan work, we need to support eachother, stick to the plan, and cut out these pointless arguments. Got it?”

Dina didn’t immediately respond, but the rigid set of her shoulders softened slightly. She gave a grudging nod, still clearly annoyed but willing to cooperate. Jesse turned back to Ellie, offering her a brief, understanding glance

Ellie nodded in return, her eyes scanning the crowd, “There’s no way we pull this off in front of all these people. There’s no clean escape, no cover. We’d be exposed, and the guards would have us before we even got within striking distance.”

“So what? We just give up?” Dina said, “Go back to Maria and tell her we couldn’t handle it?”

Ellie shook her head, the faint smirk returning to her lips. “No, Dina. We don’t give up. We adapt. We do this the right way. We go in slow.”

“Slow?” Dina scoffed. “We don’t have time for slow.”

“We make time,” Ellie countered, stepping closer. Her voice dropped, cold and deliberate. “If we want this to work, we have to get inside. We need to learn everything—the layout of the town, the routines of the guards, how the people move, how they think. We slip into their lives like shadows. We blend in, become part of the scenery, and when the time’s right, we make our move.”

Dina shook her head, her arms still crossed defensively. “And how long is this supposed to take? A week? A month? We don’t have that kind of time.”

Ellie’s gaze flickered back to the palace, the sun casting long shadows across the stone walls. “As long as it takes,” she said quietly. “You’ve done this longer than I have, Dina, but you know this isn’t a regular kill. This is the queen-to-be. We don’t get a second shot at this. We do it right, or we don’t do it at all.”

Jesse finally spoke up, his voice calm but firm. “She’s got a point, Dina. If we rush this, we’re asking for trouble. We need to know what we’re dealing with before we act.”

Dina’s frustration was clear, but after a long moment of silence, she exhaled sharply, her shoulders dropping in reluctant acceptance. “Fine. We do it your way. But if this goes sideways, Ellie, it’s on you.”

Ellie nodded, her expression unreadable. “It won’t.”

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting an amber glow over the town as the crowd continued to swell. The distant cheers grew louder, the anticipation in the air thickening as the coronation ceremony drew closer. Ellie watched the scene unfold, her mind already working, planning, calculating each move.

They would become part of this place—unseen, unnoticed—until the moment was right. And when it was, they would strike from the shadows, swift and lethal.

There was no room for mistakes.

───────

You jolted awake, your lungs burning as if they were being scorched from the inside. Coughs wracked your body, each spasm sending searing pain through your chest. Blinking rapidly to clear the haze from your vision, you realized the room was shrouded in thick, acrid smoke. The dim light that filtered through the dense fog was ghostly and indistinct, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

With your heart racing, you struggled to sit up, your movements slow and unsteady. The smoke clung to your skin, making it difficult to breathe, and you could feel your head growing light as if it were floating away from your body. Your eyes watered uncontrollably, and the oppressive weight of the smoke made every breath a laborious effort.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you staggered out of bed, your legs weak and uncooperative. The smoke seemed to thicken the longer you stayed in the room, and the oppressive heat made the air feel almost molten. You stumbled towards the door, each step a monumental task as you tried to shield your face with the crook of your arm, hoping to avoid inhaling more of the choking smoke.

You emerged from your bedroom, the palace engulfed in chaos. The once-grand hallways were now a nightmarish landscape of flickering flames and billowing smoke. The once-polished marble floors were now slick with soot, and the ornate tapestries that once adorned the walls were reduced to smoldering husks. The flames crackled hungrily, consuming everything in their path with an insatiable fury.

You pushed through the haze, your eyes watering, your throat raw from coughing. Your mind raced as you made your way towards your parents' quarters, the thought of them being trapped in the inferno spurring you on. The corridor twisted and turned, and the smoke grew denser, each breath feeling like it might be your last.

You reached their door, but your heart sank as you saw the chains wrapped around it. The metal glinted ominously in the firelight, each lock fastened tightly as if mocking your desperation. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you grasped at the chains, yanking and pulling with all the force you could muster. The locks resisted stubbornly, their mechanisms cold and unyielding against your frantic efforts.

The smoke was getting thicker, searing your lungs with every inhale, and your vision was beginning to narrow as you struggled to stay conscious. You coughed violently, the sound echoing harshly in the confined space, but you didn’t stop. Your fingers clawed at the chains, your voice a ragged plea as you strained against the cold metal.

“Help! Somebody—please!” Your voice was a mere whisper against the roar of the flames, barely carrying over the din of the burning palace. The locks seemed to mock you, their resistance only heightening your sense of helplessness.

Just as the smoke began to envelop you completely, your vision dimming to a suffocating blur, a figure appeared through the haze. Abby, her armor glinting in the flickering light, burst into view. Her expression was a mix of determination and fear as she dashed towards you, her eyes wide with alarm.

“Come on, we have to get out!” Abby shouted over the roar of the flames, her voice cutting through the smoke like a lifeline.

Before you could react, Abby grabbed you by the arm with a grip that was both firm and unyielding. The intensity in her eyes brooked no argument. She began dragging you towards the corridor, her strength propelling you forward even as you struggled against her.

“No!” you yelled, your voice cracking from the strain. “My parents—please, Abby! They’re still in there! You have to save them!”

Your protests were met with a resolute silence as Abby continued to pull you away from the door. Her pace was relentless, driven by a single-minded focus on getting you to safety. You flailed against her, trying to wrench free, your fists landing weakly against her armor.

“Let me go!” you cried out, hitting her with all the strength you could muster, but Abby remained unmoved. Her face was set in a grim line, her eyes fixed ahead as she navigated the treacherous path through the burning palace.

“I can’t!” Abby shouted back, her voice carrying an edge of desperation. “We’re not safe here!”

The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly as Abby dragged you away, each step pulling you farther from the locked door and your parents. The smoke thickened, wrapping around you like a choking shroud, and the heat became unbearable. You could see the door now, its chains glinting through the smoke, but it was growing smaller and smaller with each passing second.

“Abby, stop!” you pleaded, your voice a strained whisper. “We need to go back!”

Abby’s grip tightened, her determination unwavering. “It’s too late,” she said firmly. “The fire’s spreading too fast!”

You could feel the heat intensify as the flames roared closer, the walls of the palace crumbling around you. The inferno’s glow painted the walls in flickering hues of orange and red, and the once-familiar corridors were now a labyrinth of destruction.

Your parents’ door was now a distant memory, the vision of it being consumed by the flames etched in your mind. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the sweat and smoke as Abby continued to pull you away, her determination a beacon in the chaos.

“Don’t—don’t leave them!” you sobbed, your strength waning as the fire grew fiercer. Your struggles became weaker, your body exhausted by the smoke and the frantic escape.

───────

“We must go now, Your Majesty.” A maid’s voice echoed through the room. She stood at the doorway, her head peeking in cautiously as if unsure whether to intrude on the final moments of your preparation. Her uniform was impeccably crisp, and her eyes darted nervously between you and the room, her posture stiff and formal.

You blinked, the trance you had been in dissolving as you scanned the room with renewed focus. The reflection in the mirror caught your eye. For a moment, the reflection seemed almost foreign, a ghostly echo of the queen you were about to become.

You turned to face Abby, who stood steadfast near the door. Her presence was as constant and reassuring as ever, her armor gleaming softly in the dim light. She hadn’t moved an inch from her post, her gaze locked on you with an intensity that was both protective and unwavering. It was as if she was willing to stand there for an eternity if it meant ensuring your safety and success.

You met her eyes, holding the gaze with a mixture of determination and an unspoken bond that had been forged over years of friendship and loyalty. The moment stretched, silent and weighty, a silent conversation passing between the two of you.

With a final, lingering look at the mirror, you straightened your posture and adjusted the layers of your gown, the fabric rustling softly with the movement. The intricate embroidery glinted in the light, the gold threads catching the soft glow and accentuating the grandeur of the ensemble. You took a deep breath, gathering the last of your composure.

“Shall we go?” you asked Abby, your voice steady but carrying a hint of the gravity of the occasion.

Abby’s expression softened, though her stance remained resolute. She nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting both pride and a hint of anxiety. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said softly, her voice carrying the unspoken promise of her protection.

The maid stepped aside, allowing you and Abby to pass. As you walked towards the door, the echo of your footsteps seemed louder than usual, the soft click of your heels against the marble floor punctuating the stillness of the room. The grand hall awaited, filled with the thrumming anticipation of the crowd, the culmination of everything you had worked towards.

You took one last deep breath, feeling the weight of the crown and the enormity of your impending role settle over you. With a final, resolute glance back at the room—the sanctuary you were leaving behind—you stepped through the door and into the corridor beyond. The sounds of the cheering crowd and the distant murmur of the kingdom’s voices grew louder as you approached the grand hall, each step bringing you closer to your fate.

#ellie williams #abby anderson #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie fanfic #ellie x y/n #abby anderson x reader #abby fanfiction #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson au #ellie williams au

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allfearstofallto · 7 months

Note

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

#mai<3 answers #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #genshin childe x reader #childe x reader #historical au

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boatdetailmiami · 2 years

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galacticgraffiti · 11 months

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✿⋅ Oh, to be Alone with You ⋅✿

NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 2.6k Descriptors: I try my best to write inclusively. Reader uses she/her pronouns and is mentioned in her physicality but not described in detail. If anything escaped me, please let me know! Sorry I couldn't make this more gender neutral, but since this fic is a gift to @naariel I thought I'd use her pronouns. Warnings: dirty daydreams, yearning, lusting after someone, male masturbation, dirty talk, fantasy of PiV sex within the daydream, bath sex, this is written from Halsin's POV

⋆⋅ Inspired by this insane artwork by @naariel ⋅⋆

Author's note: I've been pondering, rotating and marinating this artwork in my mind for WEEKS. It haunts me in the best possible way and I am so happy Naariel gave me permission to reference her art! If you are not already following her, you definitely should - her skill and talent are infinite.

Masterlist ⋆ If you prefer AO3

───── ⋆⋅✿⋅⋆ ─────

Oh, to be Alone with You

Halsin sighs when he finally sits down, long limbs sprawling on the too-small chair that can barely contain him.

Chairs. What superfluous oddities, where a big tree stump might have sufficed. If one has to make them at all, why not at least make them comfortable? Why not sit in the meadows, why not find a place to lay where the sun has warmed a rock that has been washed and polished by the rain? But no, the rules of the city demand he be contained within four walls instead of roaming free, they demand he bathe in a wooden tub instead of out in the wilds, they demand he wear clothes and be polite to people even as they trample the Oak Father’s creations beneath their boots without even stopping to look and enjoy nature’s gifts.

Halsin shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the oncoming headache. It has been a long day and he is so tired. A long week. A long few weeks, if he is being honest with himself. In all these centuries, times have been- well- rough, to say the least. But whatever haunts the Sword Coast now… it’s different. Bigger than the invasions of Goblins across the land, bigger than the Shadow druids, bigger even than the Shadow Curse that has occupied Halsin’s every waking hour for nigh on one hundred years.

At least, Thaniel and Oliver have been reunited, some life returning to the lands as it always should have been. A victory, chased for so long, tasting sweet only for a moment before the stale urgency of the matter at hand had seeped back into Halsin’s mind: Mindflayers infecting innocents, magic-infused tadpoles, an Elder Brain… There are too many battles to be fought, and not one of them to be won.

Halsin presses his lips together and tries to banish the dark thoughts from his mind. There are some good things that have come out of this: They have not lost a fight yet, and his newfound companions are… stimulating, to say the least. Fighting alongside them has been a joy and a privilege - watching their blades sear, their magic erupt, their arrows pierce their targets as the bear Halsin rips through flesh and bone. The fighting is necessary, and his companions are more skilled than he could have ever wished for. This day may have been hard, but it was successful nonetheless, and now he is here, freshly bathed and ready to find some rest for the night. If only it could be under the stars, far outside the city walls, he would almost call himself happy. Instead, he must bed down alone, encased by too many walls and a too-small bed frame.

Halsin misses the smell of grass that has not been trampled by hundreds of boot-clad feet, he misses the feeling of bark against his fur, he misses his wildshape and trodding through calm forests instead of bloodied battlefields. He misses air that is crisp and clean and doesn't smell of artificially molten metals. He misses the Grove, he misses Thaniel and he misses the woods. The city has been forsaken by Silvanus, and even if this place is a small oasis of nature, it is not the same as being out among the Oak Father’s creations.

He cracks his neck, his hair tickling his collarbones. Halsin curses quietly to himself, pushing a curl behind his ear. He needs to cut his hair - it’s getting too long. And he needs to braid it again, his plaits are all out of sorts. It might be a hassle to do it without a mirror- but maybe he could ask-

No.

Shaking his head as if to will the thought away, he slumps into the discomfort of the chair a little more.

No, he shouldn't ask her anything. Nothing that would involve her hands on him, at least. Certainly not her fingers buried in his hair, tugging softly, her voice gently commanding that he tilt his head a different way. He can’t ask for that. It would only lead to him asking for more:

More of her hands on him, more of her skin against his, more than innocent touches and whispered goodnights across the campfire. He would ask for everything: To bury himself inside her until the world fades away, to devour her until she is slick with sweat from the pleasure he brings her. To be the keeper of her heart, just as he yearns for her to be the keeper of his.

Halsin can feel the familiar tightness in his back as the golden shimmer of his wildshape travels up to his shoulder blades. One thought of her, and already the bear stirs.

He remembers everything that happened today, even as he tries so hard to think of something else:

He remembers the way she smells, of sweet berries, blood and leather. He remembers her looking up at him, as her fingers clutch her weapon tightly. He remembers the fire in her eyes after the slaughter, the glow in her cheeks when she turned around to look at him and found only the bear. He remembers how she smiled at him, even after all that violence, a smile like the sinking sun, bloodied and red, but more beautiful than he could ever have dreamed up.

And as the day progressed: Her arm bumping into his, her head tilting up when she asked him a question and wanted to read his expression. How her hands slipped around him to reach for some food at the campfire earlier when they rested. Her sweet breath on his face and a mumbled excuse when she walked into him, still drowsy with sleep. And all Halsin wanted to do was pull her into his lap and bury his nose in the crook of her neck and forget about the world, forget about everyone watching, and have her, right then, in that moment. Have her all to himself, make her his very own. To feel her around him, to show her the depth of his affection, the desperation of his desire, the magnitude of his commitment.

All he wanted in that moment - all he still wants - is to touch her, to feel her in ways that he cannot ask for because he is scared she will not want the same thing he does. Halsin wants to lick the sweat off her skin, he wants to be buried between her thighs whenever they can steal away, even for a few minutes, he wants her taste on his tongue when he fights, and to wrap himself around her when they sleep.

The force of his own thoughts makes Halsin shudder, glowing desire stirring deep in his belly.

Her tongue in his mouth, his hands on her skin: How soft she would be against him. How wonderful to hear her voice break when she cries out for him, how she would taste if he could lick her off his fingers, the honey of her thighs, the salt of her sweat. He would give anything to know the expression on her face when she is lost to mindless bliss- he would give everything to know that he is the cause of it.

A low moan escapes his throat then, and Halsin presses his lips together when his mind returns from memory and sweet imagination to this house in the midst of a bustling city. This is not nature, where he can do what pleases him when it pleases him. No, the city - ‘civilisation’ as they call it - comes with rules, expectations, limitations.

He is in someone else’s home, exhausted from the day, the blood barely washed off his skin. And yet, all he can think about is… her. All he can feel is the constriction of his clothing, the confinement of leather where he longs to be touched. He wants to shed like the bear sheds his fur after the winter, he wants to feel free again.

Halsin hums, breathing deeply, willing away the golden sparks of his wildshape that dance along his fingertips. He listens intently, fingers dancing across his thighs, drumming an impatient rhythm.

Nothing in the house stirs. Maybe they are all gone still, running their errands, finding bath houses, visiting old friends and merchants they used to know before they return here for a long night’s rest. Maybe Halsin can have a small pocket of time to himself. Time to dream himself away, to give in to the desire he has harboured for so long.

Maybe… he could use this opportunity to release some of that tension that has settled deep in his belly. Refocus his attention. Maybe it’ll be for the best- not to think of her constantly anymore, not of her smell, or the colour of her eyes, of the way her fingers linger on his for a moment too long whenever they touch, or how much he wished they could have bathed together when he sank into the tub earlier that night.

The city has many downsides, but baths are one of the few things to enjoy. Hot springs are wonderful, but few and far between. Nature provides: The bear does not mind the coldness of a stream in the woods, or the iciness of a mountain lake. But there is nothing like a steaming bath to help prevent the sore ache that settles in his bones after a fight.

If only it was acceptable to ask her if she would join him. If only it had been her hands washing dirt and grime and blood from his skin, brushing his hair, kneading tired muscles, her hands much smaller than his, but strong and determined. Loving.

Halsin lets his head fall back, spine cracking as he settles in the small, uncomfortable chair, spreading his legs to cup his hardening cock. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine it…

She glistens in the dim light, thin streams of water trickling down her skin when she emerges from the bath, her lashes stuck together as she beams at him.

“Mhh, we should have done this ages ago!”

“I could not agree more, my heart.” Halsin loves seeing her like this. She looks happy, like she has not a care in the world.

She crawls up into his lap, settling on him, her thighs bracketing his. Her hands run across his chest, lathering him in soap that smells of lavender and thyme. Halsin’s heart is beating in his throat when she leans in to kiss his collarbone, her lips soft, her hair smelling of smoke and flowers as it always does.

Desire surges inside him, crackling like lightning in his veins, and he sends the bear away, far away. This is a moment he wants for himself: Skin against skin, tongues exploring, hands intertwined. This is no place for fangs and claws, not tonight. Halsin unlaces his trousers with steady fingers, though even those few seconds seem unbearable to him. When his hand finally wraps around his cock, he breathes a sigh of relief, only to feel dissatisfied moments after. He wants her hands, her eyes on him, her voice dripping with lust. For now, his imagination will have to do.

He dreams himself back to the bath, thinking of all he could have had, if he had only had the courage to ask.

Her skin is burning hot against his, her fingers leave a flaming trail wherever she touches him.

“Is this alright, my love?” Her voice is full of concern and affection, as it always is when she asks about his comfort and well-being.

“More than alright.” Halsin’s breaths grow shaky when she moves her hips, shallowly grinding down against him. “Gods, I want to-”

“Mhhm?” There is a curious twinkle in her eye. “What is it you want? Tell me. I’m sure I could make your dreams come true.”

Halsin shifts when the wooden backing of the chair digs into his back as he bucks his hips, fucking into his hand that is wrapped around his cock - a poor substitution for what - for who - he really wants.

A growl rings out in the empty room when he closes his eyes and imagines her again.

Her thighs look so lovely, spread wide so he can fit between them. She smells of the bath salts and of herself, and her voice talks to him through the thick fog of his desire.

“I know what you want, don’t I, bear? I’ll take such good care of you if you let me. I’ll make sure you don’t even have to ask for it. I’ll let you taste me, whenever you want- wherever you want. I’ll help you focus- you can focus on me, can’t you? There you go…”

Halsin is panting, his hand moving faster.

She feels good, so good when she sinks down on him, wet with arousal and so willing to take him.

“You, little flower, are the jewel of nature’s creation,” he mumbles. “You are all I could ever want and more. I want to taste you on my tongue, always- for there to never be a day where I won’t know the way you drip for me- for you to never go a day without being satisfied, without feeling loved and cared for. Your happiness is all I want- your ecstasy all I desire. Let me take care of you.”

She moans, her head falling back as she starts to roll her hips, taking him deeper and deeper with each stroke.

“I’ll take care of you as you do of me,” she whispers. “I’ll make sure to provide for you all you could ever need or want. You give and give, let me give you everything I am in return. Be selfish, bear. Take what you want, swallow me whole, devour me without worrying whether it’s too much. I want you to. Mark me- make me yours. Tell the whole world I belong to you, whichever way you desire.”

Her movements are desperate now, her words only sighs and moans, breathless as she buries her head against his shoulder. Halsin inhales the scent of her hair, sinks into her words as the fog of lust that has settled on his brain grows thicker and heavier, until there is not a thought left on his mind but her.

“Halsin-” Gods, his name sounds so sweet off her tongue. “Halsin, I want you to fill me. Please- please, I want to feel full with you, today and every day you’ll fucking let me. I want to fight knowing you are still dripping down my thighs, I want to kiss you under the stars and know I’ll never be without you again.”

The curses that are falling from his lips are ungodly, but Halsin does not care. He is desperate now, mouth open as he calls her name and thinks of the words he wishes he could hear her say.

“Come for me, bear. Come inside me, lay claim to me as only you ever could- f-fuck- make me yours- please- Halsin, I’m yours, I’m yours and yours and yours, as long as you’ll have me- forever if you want to-”

With a cry of her name on his lips, Halsin gives in to pleasure and lets himself be overtaken by a wave of bliss. His thighs tremble as he spills over his hand, sticky warmth dripping from his fingers. He does not open his eyes. Not yet. He wants to stay in the fantasy just a moment longer.

“Halsin, I-”

His eyes open, blood rushing to his cheeks as he returns to the real world and finds her standing in the doorway.

I'm going fucking feral. Running into the woods hoping to find him there, who's with me -

@purgetrooperfox @ashotofspotchka @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ulchabhangorm @queen--kenobi @samspenandsword @rescuethewretched @pinkiemme @baba-fett @witchklng @ladykatakuri @certified-anakinfucker @fanfiction-i-llike @voidinfernal @foxferret02 @rosieofcorona @savagemickey03 @perseny @margoisthemoon2 @shiiunn @saucyhedgehog @tonysoffice @pupshr00m @supercalifragilisticprincess @palpipeen @silly-gooseastarion @mila-bee @shit-i-say-throughout-the-day @idkwhatsgoingonwithme @aeryntheofficial @jekasha @gub @nogitsune-the @solarrexplosion @hexqueensupreme @unofficialavenger90 @frankiesghost @curtaincaramba

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#bg3 #halsin #halsin x reader #in some capacity i suppose #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #halsin bg3 #nsft #halsin x f!reader #gala writes

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